“why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” luke 6:41

“do to others as you would have them do to you.” luke 6:31

* * * * *

i have been reflecting a lot about these words from Jesus this week in light of our conversation about equality.

i think they are possibly the least-applied-passages-that-could-actually-change-the-church in the Bible.

honestly, it’s a little comical, how much time and energy has been spent picking apart passages about homosexuality, of which there are few, and women in leadership in church, of which they are even fewer.  book after book and blog after blog have been written about those ones, that’s for sure.

i wonder how come we prefer those to Jesus’ powerful words in the sermon on the mount? how we’d much rather talk about who’s right & who’s wrong than live out the beatitudes?  how we’d much rather spend time & energy defending what’s a sin and what’s not a sin than feeding the hungry or loving the lonely?

umm, i’m pretty sure of that answer (and i’m not certain of much):  it’s a helluva lot easier.

laying down stones, worrying about our own logs & treating others how we long to be treated is some seriously heavy lifting.  one of the things i love the most about the 12 steps & recovery is that people are focused on our own stuff, not someone else’s.  one of the most important rules of the process is to stick with our own struggles, our own hopes, our own work and do what we can to stay on our side of the street as best we can.

it’s really quite beautiful.  and freeing.

and really hard to do in human skin that loves to control.

control is a way to protect ourselves, to distract ourselves from the bigger work of looking at our own painful patterns that keep robbing us of life, of love.

but offering ourselves in humility is what Jesus told us we needed to do–to worry about our own logs instead of anyone else’s.  to worry about the inside of our cups not the outside.  to offer mercy instead of sacrifices to satisfy the law.  to love our neighbor instead of judge our neighbor.

my theory is we’d much rather talk theology and ministry theory than be spiritually transformed ourselves.    it’s a great distraction.

spiritual and personal transformation is painful.  loving our neighbor is easier said than done.  loving God & ourselves, sometimes even harder.  reading blogs & defending positions is a piece of cake.  looking at the logs in our own eyes–pride & control & ego & self-protection & a whole-bunch-of-other-character-defects–isn’t nearly as fun as defending a couple of Bible verses to the bitter end.

i also wonder for all who love using the Bible in every conversation, how come not much time is spent on passages that challenge us on greed?  or power and control?  or comfort and pride?   or sacrifical love?  or humility?

those ones aren’t nearly as fun to rattle on about because they are seriously convicting in our own lives, not just the lives of others.

i get the irony here of me being a hypocrite, of pointing the finger, of throwing stones in a blog post but that’s about not doing that.   and i guess in this moment i would say “yep, i often am”; but i’m being convicted, too.

i can’t help but think that the world is crying out for hope while we’re talking about theology.

people are starving while we’re feeding on blog debates.

women & children are being violated while we’re haggling over whether a woman should be called “director” or “pastor.”

refrigerators are empty & electricity is getting turned off for people while we’re giving money to pay for flat screen TV’s.

if we layed down our stones and worried about the sin in our own lives, i have a feeling we’d be having radically different conversations out here.

if we tended to the forest in our own eye and didn’t give the speck in our brother’s another glance, i have a feeling we’d be plenty busy.

i think Jesus told us these important words for a reason.  he knew we’d much rather throw stones & worry about others’ specks than be radically transformed.

the church has so much it can learn from the 12 steps and the incredible wisdom of the beatitudes.  they embody an attitude of humility & mercy & meekness & purity of heart instead of an attitude of pride & judgment & control & division & finger pointing.

they help us lay down our stones.
they help us focus on our own logs.
they help us let go of needing to be in control or be “right.”
they help us be set free.

free to follow Jesus instead of defend Jesus.
free to learn instead of have all the answers.
free to listen instead of talk.
free to love instead of hate.

God, help us lay down our stones & worry about our own big ol’ logs so we–your body here on earth–can be wonderfully transformed.

“13 – therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselveswith compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. 14 – bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. forgive as the Lord forgave you.  15 - and over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

in the wild and crazy conversation last week about equality, the verse 15 song came to mind–“over all these virtues put on love, which binds them together in perfect unity.”

my friend & copastor at the refuge, karl wheeler (who just started a new blog–check it out because it’s going to rock, details below), often says that we mistake unity for uniformity.  this is so true!  we think that when we are all on the same page, we have unity. but that not true unity; instead, it’s homogeneity that was never the idea. the kingdom of God is about holding our differences in love.

real unity is honoring our differences and being bound together by love.  

it’s the virtue that binds us all together.

one of the things i most deeply respect about life in our little wild refuge community is that we do not agree on everything.  we don’t have a statement of faith that automatically discerns who believes what (you can read what we do have written down; it’s one of my most favorite things we’ve ever written) and weeds people out.  we don’t espouse a “here’s what we are sure God says about this or that” or a membership class that people need to sign in on before they can be part.   when it comes to some of these tough issues of our faith, we are all over the map, with far left & far right and everything in between all tangled up together.

it’s honestly one of the prettiest things i’ve ever seen.

rich & poor alongside, even though life is so different from each other.  educated & uneducated alongside, because people are people no matter how much schoolin’ we’ve had.  liberal & conservative alongside, because love supersedes political viewpoints.  gay & straight alongside, even with different views theologically.   married & single alongside, because we need each other desperately.  men & women alongside, because friendship is a way to practice & learn the ways of love.

we don’t see each other through any of those labels.  we see each other as human beings, created in God’s image, all with the most important thing in common–a desire to love & be loved.   

when it comes to last week’s conversation, i want to highlight an important point about our life together.  our gay friends aren’t here making sure everyone agrees with them & our straight friends with a more scriptural conservative bent aren’t trying to prove anything. the same is true about any of our other differences.  the reason this works is because love is the thread that binds us all together.  as a leader in this community, that’s what we work our asses off to try to cultivate: a culture of safety (not of comfort but of real safety in a loving, challenging christian community).

and in a true culture of safety, we can disagree.

in fact, disagreeing is good.  when we don’t allow room for seeing things differently then we are in danger of creating more pockets of conformity and not living humbly in the tension of being uncomfortable.  our discomfort & differences force us to rely on God’s spirit to help us let go & trust & learn & wait and love more freely.

the world doesn’t need more pockets of conformity.  there are plenty of those to go around.

what we need are more brave expressions of little pockets of love & freedom, where Christ’s restoration of human dignity and value is at the center despite our differences. where humility is practiced in a very active way. where submission, one to another and not just one-way-that-works-for-those-with-the-most-power, is embedded into the fabric of life together.

but even though i think the refuge is awfully pretty (it’s ugly to the un-Jesus-trained eye, though, i promise), it is also a very tricky space to hold.

some have left over time, frustrated that we hold the tension between differing views on the Bible & theology.  they want us to draw lines in the sand and make things clearer.  some get annoyed at having to make friends with people who aren’t like them.  others really want better music & teaching & comfier chairs & something a little more predictable.

we refuse.

because we think there’s much more to learn about the ways of Love through our differences and discomfort than through our we-all-think-and-believe-the-same-thing and church-is-about-being-comfortable default.

my hope for the movement in the body of Christ and community cultivation is not that we sway everyone over to a new side on any of these issues and then all camp out together.   that would be way too easy (and is what i fear these hot topics will tempt people to do).  my hope is that we find a way to be together in our differences.  to create a culture of true safety that bravely lets go of telling-others-what-to-believe-with-utter-certainty-on-one-biblical-interpretation and instead wrestling with these hard realities of life together.  to see God’s image in each other and have that be enough to keep us united even when we might see the scriptures or life or a whole host of things different from each other.

love’s the thread that binds us all together in perfect unity.

it’s stronger than we think.

* * * * *

ps: karl’s blog is called church dreamer.  check out the about page & his first blog post, Jesus hates flatscreens.  oh yeah, it’s going to be fun.

]]> http://kathyescobar.com/2012/05/14/loves-the-thread-its-stronger-than-we-think/feed/ 26 http://kathyescobar.com/2012/05/11/unless-were-all-free-none-of-us-are-free/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=unless-were-all-free-none-of-us-are-free http://kathyescobar.com/2012/05/11/unless-were-all-free-none-of-us-are-free/#comments Fri, 11 May 2012 13:20:32 +0000 kathyescobar http://kathyescobar.com/?p=6170 “freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.“

- martin luther king, jr.

most of you know i’m a nut case for equality.  you hear me talking a lot about gender equality but that’s just because it’s a critical starting place.  when half of the population of the world is thought of as “less than”, we’re in serious trouble.  in a church that is supposed to be the free-est, most liberating place in town, we’re in even deeper trouble.  christians should be leading the way on equality in absolutely every area, yet we all know that on the whole, we are lagging behind, stuck in white privilege & imbalanced power & segregation and all kinds of things that are not reflective of the kingdom of God Jesus called us to create.

equality isn’t just about gender. it crosses into race, sexual orientation, socioeconomics, and any other ways we are divided that strip people’s dignity.

it’s not a side issue or a pet project  equality is a core issue of an active faith and one that as Christ-followers we are called to participate in creating.  here, now.

the fight for equal rights has never been a simple one.  all over the world, there are wars & battles & movements calling for change.  people are sacrificing all kinds of things on behalf of change, even their lives.   i believe passionately that we re called to be dignity restorers and champions of equality in every way, shape and form.  toni morrison says “the function of our freedom is to free someone else.”

i am supposed to use any freedom i have to help free my brothers & sisters who aren’t free yet.

yeah, unless we’re all free, none of us are free.

this week was a historic week in our country in the movement toward marriage equality.  i always say it’s easy to be against equal rights when we have the ones we want. i love that our president stepped out in a big and bold way to advocate for change that’s been a long-time-coming in this country.

it was brave.

i hope it calls all of us to be brave, too.

the reason it’s so risky to stand on behalf of change in a public way is because we’re scared.  we’re scared of what other people might think.  we are scared we’ll lose our jobs.  we are scared we’ll lose our ministries.  we are scared we’ll lose others approval.  we are scared we’ll be bullied alongside the outcast.

and the truth is that we might.

but it’s worth it.

because unless we’re all free, none of us are free.

galatians 5:13-15 says: “for you have been called to live in freedom, my brothers and sisters. but don’t use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love. for the whole law can be summed up in this one command: “love your neighbor as yourself.” but if you are always biting and devouring one another, watch out! beware of destroying one another.”

i am so tired of all the destruction, all the ways christians have used the Bible & power & control to separate, divide, and strip others’ dignity.

but i firmly believe the solution is not in looking at how jacked up the system is and spending energy there.  it’s fun to rant & rave about it, but the truth is that ranting and raving won’t change anything.

what will change things is when we begin to vote with our feet (and in ballot boxes) and refuse to be part of churches & systems & groups that oppress.  period.  they aren’t going to get our money or our time or absolutely-anything-anymore and i don’t care how good their music, teaching, or kids program is.

when we risk our reputations and speak out for equality and freedom.

when we actively participate in setting others free.  that means creating little pockets of love & freedom where equality is practiced & dignity is restored.

our freedom is all tangled up together.  our dignity is all tangled up together.  our hope is all tangled up together.

Jesus shows us what love looks like–laying down our life for our friends.  this means we will pay a cost on behalf of love.  i am reminded of what cornell west says: “justice is what love looks like in public”

it’s time for change.  so many are starting to rise up from below.  there’s a holy stirring.  a hunger and thirst for justice and righteousness.  we are done sitting passively in our fear & complacency while our brothers & sisters are marginalized, oppressed, and stripped of their dignity.

the cost to us will be great.

we’ll lose our reputations, jobs, respect, friends, appearances of theological credibility, and a whole-bunch-of-other-things-that-are-worth-losing-on-behalf-of-doing-what’s-right.

it’s the least we can do.

so that’s why i’m writing this today.  to say strongly and clearly that i stand on behalf of my brothers & sisters and their fight for freedom.

because unless we’re all free, none of us are.

the other day when i was driving in my car thinking about this series, an old post that i wrote 3 years ago came to mind.  it’s called “i-used-to-but-now-i”. i thought it actually might be a helpful exercise as part of our conversation on rebuilding after deconstructing because it’s centered on respecting where we were and where we are now.

it’s about recognizing & giving language to some of the new.  it’s honoring shifts and helps us say “here’s what’s changed.”

it’s funny, my list from 2009 is so long, but as i looked through it many things still resonated, although maybe not as important to me today as they were then.  as part of this practice, i decided to make a new list, some are from 3 years ago and there are definitely some new ones, too.  i thought maybe some of you might want to give it a try, too.

my 2012 i used to…but now i’s…:

i used to have a fear-centered faith.  now i have a love-centered one.

i used to think the christian life was one of ascent & i kept feeling like a loser because i couldn’t get there. now i think it looks more like descent & it takes away the pressure.

i used to think church was about getting what i wanted–inspiration & wow.   now i think it’s about getting what i actually need–a place to practice loving & being loved.  

i used to feel the need for things to be black and white and make perfect sense. now i really appreciate the gray & the mystery of the “i don’t knows.”

i used to think people could pull themselves up by their bootstraps & change their lives with enough prayer and hard work. now i see how truly complicated poverty, mental illness, and a host of other problems really are.

i used to think that if i talked about God enough & my kids could regurgitate enough scripture verses i’d be a good parent. now i see our actions are far more important than words.

i used to be two people, one on the outside & one on the inside.  now there’s just one of me, with all my strengths & all my weaknesses.   

i used to read the Bible for knowledge.  now i read it for beauty & challenge.  

i used to never even notice the lack of women and underrepresented groups in church leadership. now i can see and smell it from a mile away.

i used to hold on to everything and so tightly.  now i’m trying to practice a looser grip. 

i used to think the kingdom of God was really really narrow. now i think it’s bigger than i ever imagined.

i used to spend a lot of energy shaking my fists. now i am most interested in planting new trees.  

what are some of your “i used to…but now i’s…?”

i’d love to hear!

almost every hurting person i know has a least a couple of stories of things people-said-and-did to them along the way that really was not helpful.  in fact, it often hurt–sometimes deeply.  simple fixes, trite spiritual phrases, and direct messages about getting-better-quick left many of us feeling more shame, anger, and loneliness.

at the same time, often there are people along the way who offer healing balm for our wounds, who stayed with us in the darkness, who provided love & hope & encouragement in such beautiful tangible ways.   their gifts of peace sustained us.

in my own journey through healing from personal pain and physical pain also through my faith shifts, i have experienced both. i know who and what was good for my soul and i know who and what did more harm.  who i willingly drew closer to and who i avoided with a 10-foot-pole.

i think we’re all pretty clear by now that the deconstructing-rebuilding process is a messy, painful journey, not only for us but sometimes for those around us, too.  and we all have stories of things that people said-and-did along the way that helped us and may have also hurt us.

the purpose of this series was to provide some hope & a loose framework for fellow sojourners. my hope was also to create a space to say out loud some things that needed to be said so that we could learn how to navigate through this process ourselves–and with others–better.

as an appendix to the last 2 weeks of posts together centered on rebuilding after deconstructing, i’d love to create two lists that we can share with the world:

1. a list of things people said and did during the bloody messy deconstruction process that helped, soothed, encouraged, and strengthened us.  

2. and a list of ones that were oh-so-not helpful.  it can become the top 10 please-don’t-ever-say-this-to-people-in-the-deconstruction-process.

i’m going to compile all of the responses into something cohesive as part of this series so i really hope you’ll take a few minutes and participate.  this is a time to honor what worked and be painfully honest about what didn’t.  a time to celebrate the good & let it rip on the bad.

here are mine, the helpful & the oh-not-so-helpful things people said to me during deconstruction:

helpful:

#1, without a doubt – when people just listened & didn’t offer any advice.

“it’s really hard”

“i’m with you no matter what”

“oh, i know that feeling”

“i care about you, not just your beliefs”

oh-not-so-helpful:

“when are you going to stop being so bitter?”

“i’m scared for you” 

“i have a sermon that you really need to listen to.”

“the church is made up of imperfect people–what do you expect?”

“my church is so awesome! you’d really like it”

“you’ve got to be careful of the slippery slope.”

i know some of you have much more painful ones than these.  please, share them freely.  others need to know how nuts it can be.

what about you? what helped?  what hurt?  thanks for sharing.

my hope is that we can all keep learning how to be safer for others along the way.

* * * * *

ps: i just got back from chicago and a lovely weekend in conversation centered around sacred friendship.   i met so many wonderful people & it brings me so much hope, these conversations about men and women learning how to love & live & learn & lead alongside one another as equals, as friends.  alise wright blogged a recap each day, and you can read them here and here.  if you are new to this blog and haven’t read anything yet about friendship here, i have a list of posts on the bottom of the past series page.

next here:  soul care & spiritual practices that sustained us during deconstruction 

for me, one of the most important and beautiful parts of life together here has been what it looks like for men & women to live, learn, love, and lead alongside each other as equals, as brothers and sisters and friends.  often, i am in situations where i realize how rare this really is.

i respect that there are definitely places for only women’s groups & only men’s groups. but there is so much we can’t learn when we are always segregated, relegated only to being above or below one another, or full of fear.

i wish more men and women would bravely dive into the deep end of learning how to live alongside each other as leaders, brothers & sisters, and friends.

there aren’t a lot of great models of people sharing power, learning to be friends, and deepening connection across sexes “in church.” one of the greatest gifts i received in the life of the refuge has been meeting other people who are practicing “alongside” in their lives, their ministries.  they are diffusing power, developing cross-gender friendships, and cultivating intentional community where men & women are really equals.  they are few but growing in number.  their example inspires and challenges me to push against all of the voices that say “it’s not possible” and continue to live out the dream despite the obstacles.

here’s what i keep learning about men and women “alongside “ each other:

“alongside” heals shame.  shame has tried to ruin me, and so many other people i know. inequality perpetuates shame for those “underneath” others.  having to step up and live equally as a leader forces me to reckon with my shame.  the first few years of the refuge i felt so bad about leading–and wanting to lead–because i had been taught i wasn’t supposed to. also, “alongside” has helped shame from my past.  being honest with safe women friends was a huge start, but even more healing came when my male friends knew my real story, too, and help me release it.  to heal, i need not only mothers & sisters but fathers & brothers, too.

“alongside” is a reflection of the kingdom.  Jesus said that the kingdom of God was possible now.  that we didn’t have to wait until heaven to experience God’s reality.  Jesus blasts hierarchical divides and cuts through the things that separate and divide. equality is freeing. as we step into side by side relationships, the kingdom is reflected in both sexes and we participate in Christ’s healing of the brokenness that Genesis 3 brought into the world.

“alongside” teaches us courage.  i always say “courage is doing hard things scared.” alongside as equals requires courage.  when my husband and i moved from a complementarian-ish relationship to an egalitarian one, it freaked both of us out.  we were scared because we knew how to do the way we had been doing it.  when my friend karl called me to co-lead pastor with him instead of be an associate, it freaked me out.  i knew in my heart it was the right thing but i was terrified to not have the fallback of him being in charge of me somehow, the only model i knew as an evangelical woman.  the first time my friend shared with me the reality of his sexual addiction, it freaked me out, that level of sharing. but i knew that moment was a holy one. i needed to be brave, to stay in, to listen, to learn.

“alongside” requires faith. i’m constantly reminded how much of my christian life has not been about faith (even though it sounded like it) but rather about control (as a way for managing fear).  segregation between sexes is a way of staying in control.  integration and learning how to be more whole alongside each other requires walking out in faith, traveling a path without clear instructions.  i recently heard someone say, “you’ll never stub your toe standing still.”  we only stub our toe when we’re moving somewhere, practicing, trying, walking. oh, how many times i’ve stubbed my toe over the past few years!  but each and every time i have learned something about God, myself, others. faith is never strengthened staying still.

so that’s what i’m learning these days in the deep end of the pool.  diving in was one of the best things i’ve ever done.

God, give us courage to live alongside each other equally as men & women, brothers & sisters, lovers, and friends.  we want to be a reflection of you.

* * * * *

ps: it’s not too late to register for a challenging & inspiring gathering centered on cross-gender friendships called when jesus met mary: a sacred friendship gathering. it’s friday and saturday, april 27th & 28th in chicago.  i am really looking forward to being part of this and meeting some of you in real life there, too!

pps: i’m on a bit of a blog-roll these days, writing more than i have in a while. i’ve learned in these moments the best thing is to go for it and stay current, otherwise the moment’s often gone.    tomorrow i’m finally sharing a post i’ve been meaning to with a bunch of good stuff to check out.  on monday i am really looking forward to a new post-easter series called “reconstruction after deconstruction”, 8 posts centered on the brutal but beautiful process of restoring faith after loss & shifts.

these are just some thoughts off the top of my head, where i am today in the midst of all kinds of life & refuge wild and craziness (what’s new?), in a season of my faith that feels free-er and more connected than it’s been in a long time,  in a season where traditions & remembering-the-story seem extra important.

this year, 2012, the cross reminds me that:

God’s ways are always higher than my ways.  crazier, too. and a lot less practical.

there are no shortcuts even though i keep looking for them, longing for them. even Jesus tried, asking for an easier plan.

“forgive them father, for they know not what they do” heals.  these words continue to give me new eyes of compassion toward myself & those who have hurt me.  

on the road to golgotha, Jesus had to receive help.  someone else carried his cross.  it symbolizes the power of receiving, not only giving.

it’s easier to live in “friday” and “saturday” of the easter story than “sunday.”  at the same time, if we are always trying to skip quickly to sunday, we’re not really living because life includes pain & struggle.

shame must always be scorned.

the path of least resistance is usually to be victims or survivors instead of thrivers.

picking up my cross & carrying it is tough stuff.  i like wearing crosses & talking about crosses & hanging crosses on my wall.  carrying them is a whole other story.

“it is finished” continues to become more and more comforting to me as i expand my view of what that might really mean. 

i need hope.  without it, i’m toast.

my son asked me today why they called today “good friday.”  he thought it should be called “sort-of-confusing friday” instead.  for me, this year, it somehow feels less confusing than others years, maybe because i’m not caught up in trying to make sense of anything but just accept its rawness, weirdness and beauty with an open heart.  it feels really “good”.

what about you?   what does the cross mean to you this year?

happy easter weekend to all of you.  peace & hope, kathy

this post also reminded of the series i did last year on the beatitudes so i put those links at the end in case you missed them.  have a great week!

* * * * *

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be satisfied.”-
- Matthew 5:6, NLT

“Justice is what love looks like in public” – Cornel West

When I was in high school and college, I was an activist. I cared about causes, paid dues to organizations that advocated for equal rights and social change. I was passionate and idealistic. In my early married years, a few years out of college, I started to lose some of that passion. I was the first in the my family to ever switch political parties from Democrat to Republican (yeah, I’ve since switched to Independent). I became increasingly more secure in my Christian bubble and began to pay less attention to wider issues. I instead began to focus on issues that the people around me were spending energy on–the erosion of the morality of America, the horrors of public education, and making sure tax money wasn’t spent on things I disagreed with. Even though they looked like worthy causes at the moment, the truth is that my support for them had nothing to do with anyone else.

They were all about me. My protection. My kids’ protection. My Christian-world’s protection.

I laugh when I look back at that season in my life, not to mock it but just to acknowledge that as different-as-it-from-where-I-am-now, it was part of my spiritual journey, and I’m really glad I’m not there anymore.

Then, I was not hungering and thirsting for justice. I was hungering and thirsting for a false feeling of safety and protection that I felt entitled to as a Christ-follower.

And it didn’t satisfy.

It actually only made me feel more afraid.

Deeply embedded in my thinking was “I must protect us from them.” It was for more focused on being “right” than being kind, on distrust than love, on self than others, on division than unity.

That was many years ago, and as I’ve grown up, my passion for justice–a more others-centered kind–has increased exponentially.

I love what Cornel West says–”Justice is what love looks like in public.”

What does love look like in public?

I think it looks like all of Beatitudes, not just one. Humility & radical dependence on God. The ability to mourn and grieve for ourselves, others, the world.. Mercy. Gentleness. Meekness, power under control instead of passivity. Purity of heart. Justice and the pursuit of righteousness and goodness. A willingness to be persecuted for love.

Yeah, love in public looks like sacrifice.
It looks like restoring dignity where it’s been lost.
It looks like humility and gentleness.
It looks like unity instead of homogeneity.
It looks like caring when no one else cares.
It looks like advocating.
It looks like diffusing our power and resources on behalf of others.
It looks like practicing equality across gender, race, socioeconomics, and host of other things that keep people over or under others.

All of these things are the Beatitudes-in-spirit-and-in-action.
They look like Jesus.
Reflected in the here and now.

In all my efforts to protect myself, I was not reflecting Jesus. I was reflecting Christian culture.

This Lent, as I reflect what I’m hungering and thirsting for, I am reminded of how easy it is to seek safety, comfort, and protection instead of brave Jesus-centered love in public. How easy it is to get sucked into power games, division, and building walls between “us and them” instead of opening our tables and discovering what we have in common. How much more familiar self-centeredness is than others-centeredness.

Self-protection, culture-protection will never satisfy, will never quench our thirst.

The scriptures say, “Why spend money on what is not bread and labor on what does not satisfy. Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare” (Isaiah 55:2).

The Beatitudes are the food I want to eat not just for Lent, but for every season of the year.

They’re what love looks like in public.

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the series i did on the beatitudes in 2011:

• blessed are the spiritually poor
• blessed are those who mourn
• blessed are the meek
• blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness
• blessed are the merciful
• blessed are the pure in heart
• blessed are the peacemakers
• blessed are those who are persecuted

also, just a reminder if you or someone you know is feeling stuck & alone when it comes to past church experiences–we are hosting another “walking wounded: hope for those hurt by the church” online class starting april 9th. the last one was so beautiful!  all of the details are here:

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“get ready, God is preparing you for something really, really small” – shane claiborne

i have always tended to do everything big in my life.  i never really set out to have 5 kids, but i am the one who had 12 bridesmaids and over 400 people at our wedding & keeps the post office in business with how many christmas cards we send every year.  it’s just…me (and that my #1 strength on the strengthsfinder is “includer”, ha ha).

but i’m learning something really precious and beautiful in this season–just how powerful “small” really is.

i first earned my chops in big-church world, stepping into leadership a big chunk of years ago and then ramping it up a few years later on the pastoral staff at a mega-church.  the contrast between where i was and where i am now is actually quite comical and once in a while at some our refuge gatherings i find myself chuckling at the difference between the two.  i went from as professional & amazing & full-of-wow-and-tons-of-people as you can get to simple-pared-down-unplugged-and-small.  it’s apples & oranges.

and while i’m not saying that “big is bad” i think i’m more convinced than ever that  “small is plenty.”

here’s why:

transformational, redemptive relationships require a lot of time and energy. learning Jesus’ ways of love is complicated.  most people–no matter how put together they may look on the outside–struggle with feeling loved by God & people & passing on love to God and people.  shifting those deep places in hearts is not something that comes in a snap. it takes a long time to build trust, intimacy & connection.  it takes intention and fighting against the path of least resistance which will always tend toward “i’m too busy” or “i really don’t need people in my life, i’ve got it covered on my own.” after 6 wild years of life in the refuge community, i see up-close-and-personal just how much time and energy it takes to nurture transformation.   the tangled web of life together is impossible to navigate in a sea of hundreds of nameless faces.

real life is unpredictable and hard; the needs are great. $*!&!( happens.  marriages begin to crumble, jobs get lost, people get sick, family members die, relationships break up, kids get in trouble, people get inspired to adopt children from foster care & overseas, depression kicks in, the pain gets great enough to enter recovery.  real life is unpredictable and if i look around most of the relationships i am in–both in and outside of the refuge community–there’s a lot of real life going on that is complicated and messy.   sure, it’s easy to just stand by and watch when there’s no real connection between people, but in a small community dedicated to life together, in different ways we all share in the pain and struggle together. and while it is a beautiful gift, it is also  impossible to share these kinds of burdens on too big of a scale.   when it comes to the needs of real life, small is plenty.

everyone needs a space to use their gifts & passions & voice. this is something i’m most passionate about because the body of Christ is supposed to be a place where each and every person who is a part is contributing in some way, shape or form–bringing their gifts & passions & voice to the community.  in big settings, there’s only so much “room” so the talented & louder voices are the ones who usually get heard.  in our practicing community, we go out of our way to hear from as many different people as possible in as many different ways as possible.  and even then, it’s tricky to do.

growth doesn’t mean numbers. almost all church-planting and success-in-life models are focused on numerics & dollars–butts in seats & bucks in the offering plate or some combination of that.   the growth that i see really has nothing to do with the-number-of-people-who-come-to-our-gatherings but rather seeing people become more loving, caring, compassionate, generous, and kind in little & big ways.  of seeing people find hope when there wasn’t any.  of seeing people really “become more like Christ” even if none of those words were ever used.  yeah, there’s a big difference between building churches & cultivating communities.

never underestimate how much impact “small” can really have.  i feel so blessed to see this in some little ministries, missional communities, and individuals-who-are-dedicated-to-the-poor-and-marginalized-in-all-kinds-of-crazy-innovative-ways.  small pockets of love matter.  justice & mercy & hope ripple out from small acts of kindness & love.  one life can change one other life.  and that one life matters. if we are always thinking we’re not big enough, strong enough, cool enough, sustainable enough, we will miss out on amazing people & opportunities to love & live right in front of us.

learning how to embrace small as plenty means becoming comfortable in our own skin, accepting ourselves how we truly are individually & corporately.

it means bending our ear and heart toward the ways of the kingdom of God–where the ways of the world are turned upside down, the last shall be first and the first shall be last, where learning the ways of love one relationship at a time  supersedes everything else.

more than ever, i am discovering that small is plenty.

- harriet tubman

this past weekend i was in portland for a women’s gathering called convergence.  it is not a typical conference; there are no speakers, no people getting paid, no flash.  just a sacred safe space for a bunch of women leaders to share & learn & soak & be challenged & encourage & grieve & grow. i went to see dear & inspiring friends and get a little soul care; it was also an honor to get to process some of the material from down we go with women interested in cultivating intentional little pockets of love & freedom and planting new trees.

one thing that i am always struck with in these moments is just how many incredible women there are whose gifts haven’t been fully valued.  how many have been slaves to systems that mistreated them.  and how even though they have been used and mistreated and undervalued in all kinds of ways, they still have hope & passion & dreams for the kingdom and are finding ways to live it out despite the obstacles.  seriously, it’s amazing.

i know so many women–and men, too–who are being set free.

free from the bondage of religion.
free from the shackles of the system.
free from the oppression of abusive power structures.
free from being called nasty names & having our dignity stripped.
free from limitations on our faith.
free from a squelching of our gifts.

and freedom is costly.

when we choose the path of leaving systems & structures that continue to keep us in bondage, we choose a lonelier, scarier road.

but nothing tastes better than freedom.

the same day i arrived in portland, my wise & amazing friend phyllis mathis and i finished our first walking wounded online class:  hope for those hurt by the church.  it was so beautiful, so healing, so inspiring.

i was also reminded, yet again, how tough it is to find our way to freedom without a little help along the way.

my friend mar shared that walking wounded was a little like the underground railroad, a stopping spot on the way to freedom for the slaves.  a hidden pocket of love & hope & refuge on the journey toward freedom.  manned by others who believed in freedom, the underground railroad was made up of shelters & places of protection, places to be reminded that freedom was possible, places to be nourished, places that pointed others toward hope.

her words took my breath away.

i do not for a minute want to minimize the kind of oppression & human slavery african americans and so many other people experienced or are experiencing today.  i respect that as westerners escaping from the grip of the institutional church, our bondage is quite a different kind.

at the same time, the imagery works for so many of our journeys.

the slaves wouldn’t have made it to freedom without the underground railroad.

and i wouldn’t have made it to freedom without other people who first told me i was a slave (i didn’t even know it) and then carried me along this path, gently reminding me that there was, indeed, something better ahead.

6 years ago i didn’t know i was a slave.

i was happy settling for crumbs because i thought that was all i deserved.
i thought the weird power dynamics i was experiencing as part of a church staff were normal.
i thought i should just be thankful i was “allowed” to do anything and knew it could be a lot worse.
i was stuck working for a system that didn’t really want me, just what i had to bring to make their system more successful.

that harriet tubman quote has gotten under my skin:

“if i could have convinced more slaves they were slaves, i could have freed thousands more”

so many men & women don’t know they’re slaves.  don’t know they’re being bullied. controlled. used. limited. unvalued. stripped of dignity.

i certainly didn’t.  but as i started walking this direction, i started meeting others who had been set free, too.  they told their stories.  they fed me.  they gave me shelter. they pointed me on my way and told me to keep going, to not give up this journey.

years ago i watched a documentary on human slavery and remember clearly the story of an entire village who were slaves for generations upon generations in a free country.  they had no idea they were slaves until someone bought one of their people’s freedom.  then, one by one, the freed slaves helped the others be set free, too.

i believe in every fiber of my being that Jesus came to set people free, like really free.  free-er than we can ever even imagine although i hope we can experience more and more of it this side of heaven.

and my freedom isn’t only about my freedom.
my freedom is about our freedom.
i’m not really free until my brothers & sisters are.

your freedom isn’t only about your freedom, it’s about our freedom.
and we’re not really free until our brothers & sisters are.

God, help us recognize our slavery.
and that there’s a true & beautiful & bumpy path to freedom. 
for those of us already on the road there, may we play our part in offering shelter, hope, love, support, food, water, and courage to those walking this direction, too.