incarnational
it’s a beautiful, messy story.
i do not like shopping. i do not like crowds. i do not like commercials and all of the nutty emphasis on buying stuff. and i definitely do not like cold december weather.
but i do love christmas.
i love christmas because i love the christmas story. i love the wild & crazy way God reveals himself to the world, in a way that most everyone would never expect. i love that angels announced Jesus’ birth first to the the shepherds & the pagans and they were strangely drawn toward this light from the very beginning. i love that the earthly parents God chose were basic people with basic jobs and a basic faith. i love the reminder that from the beginning of Jesus’ life, power was trying to destroy him but never fully prevails. i love that the story of Jesus is a beautiful, messy one not a clean & sterile one (even though that’s usually how the storybooks make it sound).
the christmas story wasn’t neat and tidy.
it was messy. and beautiful.
like ours.
for this season of advent at the refuge we have been focusing on our stories–God’s story, our stories, and how they all intersect. on the first week of advent my friend karl shared how “every Bible story is a christmas story.” i’ll add “every one of our stories is a christmas story, too”.
here are the elements i think are present in the christmas story and in our stories, if we look carefully:
1. pain and struggle
2. something that doesn’t make sense in our own or others’ eyes
3. some kind of redemption, hope, or healing
4. a reminder that somehow, someway, God is emmanuel, always with us.
when i look at almost every Bible story i can think of, these 4 things apply. when i consider the weird twists and turns in my own story & many others along the way, these 4 things are somehow always present.
i want to focus for a minute on #2 because i think it’s the one that might give us the most trouble–”something that doesn’t make sense in our own or others’ eyes.”
we humans have a desperate need to make sense of everything. we want it to “work” the way we want it to work. we want to understand things we’re not supposed to understand. we want to cram God’s weird & wild ways into our own boxes so we can feel more comfortable. we want neater, tidier, easier.
i know i do.
but the christmas story reminds us that some things just don’t make sense in our eyes or other’s eyes. the Jesus story sure didn’t.
two contradicting things can be present at the same time.
the christmas story is beautiful & ugly. filled with faith & doubt, peace & confusion, fear & courage. these things living together don’t make sense in our linear-little-brains. but part of redeeming our story and participating in God’s story more fully requires us to open our hearts to letting both exist at the same time. and like all things of faith, this is a heart-journey, not a head-one. our brains can try to rationalize “sure, both dark and light exist in me” but still do everything in our power to clean it up and make all be good, “right” or okay or go the other direction of leaning completely into only the dark side where everything is hard & ugly & painful.
we can easily become focused on the dark & blinded to the light.
or we can do an excellent job of pretending like everything’s light and dismiss the reality of our darkness.
a lot of our church experiences haven’t helped us to live more comfortably with paradox in our own lives, either. black & white thinking has often morphed into black & white feelings, too.
we did a little exercise a few weeks ago at our weekend gathering, to open ourselves up to remember that light & dark exist at the same time in our stories–and in all of God’s stories, too. part of cultivating hope this advent season is living in the tension of both existing but straining to see the light, the good, the beautiful because these are often more difficult for us to see in ourselves.
here’s the exercise we did:
choose one word from the left hand column that describes this season for you. then choose one word from the middle column. if the words that come to mind aren’t on this list, use them instead.
right now, my story is ________ & __________.
my two words are “strong & fragile” and those usually don’t make sense together. in my humanness, i only want to be strong or i only see my fragility & weakness. the beauty of the christmas story in me is seeing that both can exist at the same time, and they don’t have to make sense. and like most all of them, my story is one of pain & struggle and redemption & healing & God-with-me-in-the-thick-of-it.
yeah, all our stories are christmas stories.
i’d love to hear what words describe your story right now.
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comfortable in our own skin
one of the things i’ve always tried to do here is write from my heart. to be as honest as i could. to not worry about who would think what. it’s pretty hard to do! there are so many different tribes out here in online-land with different passions & people & ways-of-living-out-their-faith. for the past five years, i have always struggled with not fully connecting with any of them. for some folks, i’m not sufficiently theological or liturgical or serious or christian or universalist or denominational or missional enough..to feel like i’m tracking all the way. i love & value them all and appreciate the various expressions more than i can say. but sometimes it can just feel..weird. off, somehow. like i don’t fully have a place in any of them.
and at any moment something i say here can bug pretty much any of them for one reason or another.
this is a really familiar feeling for me. all through middle & high school & college & pretty much all of my adult life i have always been friends with a bunch of different people that rarely all come together in the same place. i love it because i know such beautiful, diverse, amazing people. but it can also feel unsettling & uncomfortable. i miss some of what you get when you are deeply embedded in a particular tribe. i think one of the things that i appreciated about being on a mega-church staff for those couple of years is that it’s so big that you don’t really need anyone else. it’s its own island and a really clear tribe with no room, or apparent need, really, for much else. now, out here floating around on a lifeboat for the past five years clinging for dear life i have had to learn something that i knew i needed to learn–how to be comfortable in my own skin.
my skin.
not someone else’s.
not what this group is doing or that group is doing. not what this church is doing or that church is doing. not what this ministry is doing or that ministry is doing. not what this person is doing or that person is doing.
i’m learning to become more comfortable with what i believe.
not what this group believes or that group believes. not what this friend believes or that friend believes. not what this blogger believes or that blogger believes.
yikes, it’s hard to do! the systems of the world are built upon people conforming to each other somehow. my friend & awesome refuge teammate karl always says that we mistake uniformity for unity. true unity is diversity, bound together with a common thread. to me, when it comes to issues around “church”, that thread is God. but we’ve built systems that call for uniformity, that we need to be like “them”, whatever the them is, in order to belong.
i do not think that any of the things i believe are really very heretical! they’re just one expression of faith that i feel dearly and passionately about, and stem from how i view the gospels & the Bible & what God has stirred up in me through the years. my point in my last post, yep, i guess i’m a heretic, is that by believing & practicing these, somehow i’m “out” of certain circles because of their interpretation of theological truth. that’s so bizarre to me. and sad.
but alas, my responsibility is not to change that system or anyone’s minds.
my responsibility is to learn to be comfortable in my own skin.
my skin, not someone else’s.
but the skin God made that’s me.
this is maturity. this is healing. this is transformation.
and this doesn’t have to have to be perceived as something that only has to do with faith or church or anything “spiritual”. it has to do with becoming better human beings, stronger, more secure, more free men & women, who discover who we each are in deep places of our hearts & practices.
one of the things i love about the christmas story and this time of year is the reminder of Jesus’ humanness. he had to learn to be in his skin just like us. and obviously, many, many people didn’t really like his skin. he had to have his feet on the ground & his head in the clouds in order to walk out the journey he was on here on earth. he had a huge advantage, being God and all, but i take great solace in knowing that Jesus understands humanness.
in all its mess & all its glory. in all its struggle & all its joy. in all its reality & all its beauty.
the wise & prophetic father richard rohr says that other “a” words for advent are: alert, awake, alive, attentive, aware. i’m not big on alliteration but i love these words! this season i am trying to be awake, aware, attentive to my story, God’s story-in-me.
and i think it’s a story of growing up somehow, of learning to be comfortable in my own skin. learning to be be less codependent & independent and more interdependent. to be more free. to be less afraid. to be more clear, even if its only about a few important things. to be more brave. to be more weak in some areas & stronger in others. to care less about what people think & more about what God might think.
God knows our struggle to be comfortable in our own skin. God is E/Immanuel, with us. here, now. down here in the muck and mire of our real lives, our real struggles with life & faith & relationships & all that it means to be human, created in the image of God, living in this broken weird wild world.
enthusiastically wanting to teach us to be comfortable in our own skin.
i’m trying to listen.
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ps: i stumbled upon this original advent song this weekend by matt staniz. i loved it & thought i’d pass it on to you today as we reflect on our skin, God’s skin.
present, humble, vulnerable.
* this is part of the second november synchroblog is to celebrate the beginning of the season of advent. the theme different bloggers are writing on is: jesus is coming: what are we expecting? come back & check out the links of other bloggers writing on this topic at the bottom of this post (they will be added over the next week) and you can go over to christine sine’s blog this month for daily posts centered on this theme, too.
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“he has filled the hungry with good things” – mary’s song, luke 1:53
until 5 years ago i never celebrated the season of advent and the weeks leading up to christmas. honoring the church calendar was just not something i was taught, but over the past few years i have really come to appreciate the beauty & intention that comes from it. at the same time, i am not crazy over the typical definition of “expectation”, probably because it can be such a loaded word when it comes to some christian things. it can sometimes feel a little bit too demanding for me on one end or setting myself up for disappointment on another. it’s tricky for me to say “this advent season i expect….” a phrase that helps me with this is to substitute the word “expecting” with “being open to”.
so, if i were re-framing this entire phrase, it would be: Jesus is coming: what do i want to be open to?
when i am open, i am present. i am not thinking about the next thing i need to do but rather am present in the moment i’m currently in. i have room to listen, notice, experience.
when i am open, i am humble. i do not have everything all figured out. i am not closed off & hardened. my heart is soft & tender to God and other people.
when i am open, i am vulnerable. i am willing to feel, the good things & the bad, to let in the beauty & the ugly and somehow trust that God is at work in it all.
it is quite clear to me that none of these things are my first reflexes!
when i think of the christmas story & the events leading up to the birth of Jesus, mary’s “openness” comes to mind. she embodied being present, humble, and vulnerable. i feel fairly positive she had to be terrified in every imaginable way. i do not think the cleaned-up stories we read about mary are what it really looked or felt like for her in the moment. she was human and experienced fear & shame & doubt & confusion & trust & hope & joy just like we do. there are many different ways the story could have unfolded, but she chose the path of openness. of staying present, humble, and vulnerable in the midst of great travail.
like his earthly mother, Jesus embodied these three qualities, too–presence, humility, and vulnerability. all three are easy to talk about but tricky to live out. the pull toward busyness & thinking 10 steps ahead, self-centeredness, hardening and protecting our hearts & time, and a host of other distractions is really strong.
so what i am i trying to be open–present, humble, and vulnerable–to this advent season?
i want to be open to be awed by the little & beautiful things that i intersect with over the next few weeks that i might count as ordinary. i want to be open to God’s story being told in my life & the life of my friends. i want to be open to see slivers of light in the darkness. i want to be open to feel the ground underneath my feet instead of moving so fast. i want to be open to laughter and joy in the midst of carrying my friends’ real burdens & pain. i want to be open to experiencing peace & a sense of gentle strength in midst of the craziness of these busy & fast next few weeks. i want to be open to being patient & waiting instead of being impatient & demanding. i want to be open to God’s hope.
i know that this is a season of waiting for Jesus to “come” but it also helps me to remember Jesus is already “here.” working, challenging, healing, illuminating, strengthening, comforting, encouraging, revealing his story to us in our real lives, offering hope.
this advent season, God help me be open–to be present, humble, vulnerable .
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here are some other advent posts i’ve written for the past years & synchroblogs. yep, same song, different tune!
- making room for the unexpected
- God. alive.
- an advent confession
- hope is dangerous
- waiting, hoping, expecting the wrong things
- light: i’ll take a sliver anyday
ps: that guest post i wrote over at rachel held evans’ blog–insecure christians–has a pile of comments that have stirred up all kinds of feelings, both oh-i-so-agree ones & contrary ones. i definitely am going to have to do a part 2 over here to process some of it. it is so funny to me, how by saying that maybe there might be some good in us from the beginning since God made us in his image people get in an uproar, thinking i am dismissing sin & brokenness. it still baffles me that it’s heretical. people, good & bad can exist together, for goodness sake! we are living paradoxes. the problem i see is that many of us are blinded by the bad & completely forget the good and the church typically doesn’t help with that in a practical way. anyway, look forward to hearing some of your thoughts on it next week. happy thanksgiving & first week of advent!
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other advent synchrobloggers // more coming through the 1st week of advent:
- Ron Cole at The Weary Pilgrim – advent: reimagining everything
- Liz Dyer at Grace Rules – expect the unexpected
- Sarah Styles Bessey at Emerging Mummy – in which i’m expecting something from advent
- Miz Melly at Perchance to Dream – parousia
- David Perry at Visual Theology – Advent As A Mirror of Possibility
- Christine Sine at Godspace – Jesus Is Coming What Do We Expect?
- Liz VerHage at Living Theology
- Sally Coleman at Sally’s Journey – Come Spirit of Advent
- Jeremy Myers at Till He Comes – Jesus Is Returning Today
- Glenn Hager – Antithetical Advent
- Carol Kuniholm at Words Half Heard – Advent 1: What I’m Waiting For
- Tammy Carter at Blessing The Beloved – His Gift … the way of escape!
- Ellen Haroutunian – Remember Our Story
- Mihee Kim-Kort - Advent Expectations: Keep Awake
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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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rising up from below
* this post is part of the november synchroblog, different bloggers writing on the same subject. richard rohr says “the role of the prophets is to call us out of numbness.” right now there’s a strong sense of change brewing in the church, the world; people are rising up and calling individuals, communities, nations, and everything in between out of numbness and toward justice, mercy, equality, and love. bloggers this month are writing on where we are being stirred and challenged by prophetic voices. check out the links at the end of this post.
* * * * *
“wake up, wake up, o zion!
clothe yourself with strength.
put on your beautiful clothes, o holy city of jerusalem..
rise from the dust…
sit in a place of honor.
remove the chains of slavery from your neck, o captive daughter of zion.”
isaiah 52:1-2
this scripture came to mind two weekends ago during our walking wounded gathering as i listened to two amazing women briefly sharing their painful church story of being silenced and unvalued in the church because they are female. honestly, in those moments, my heart physically hurts. i see their beauty, their power, their wisdom and wonder how in the $*!^$&^#%$ the church, the place that’s supposed to be Christ’s bride and a reflection of his image, could silence half its members so overtly (and somehow get away with it!).
the reality is that many other voices have been silenced by the church, far beyond only women. and because of this lack of voices, we have all suffered. we have missed the voices of the poor, the oppressed, the brown, the gay, the divorced, the orphaned, the young, the uneducated, the theologically incorrect, the tromped on, the forgotten. we have given our microphones and our pulpits and our programs over to the strong and the powerful and created a system where those on the margins are ignored and dismissed.
but something’s breaking out right now that can’t be squelched. we see it in the town squares that are filled with average people who are protesting wall street & starting to say “we’re tired of the powerful and greedy controlling our world, something’s got to change.” we see it in the mass exodus young people are making out of the church because it refuses to focus on issues they care about related to justice & mercy & equality. we see it in the long line of former-church-people who have deconstructed their faith & are finding something more real because they could no longer tolerate the deep inconsistencies between faith & practice. we see it in the groundswell of advocacy & support for equality and dignity for all regardless of sexual orientation.
in all kinds of places we are seeing it–a movement from below. a groundswell from the bottom. an uprising where little pockets of people are saying “we’re not going to do this anymore…..we’re tired of people’s dignity being stripped…it’s time for change.”
on the whole, the tops of systems aren’t changing. the hierarchy remains. the powerful and strong keep making rules & laws & policies & money. many are hunkering down, hoping they can weather this storm and eventually the unruly sheep will get back in line and start towing the line once again.
but it’s not going to happen. the sheep are getting tired of being jacked around by oppressive shepherds who don’t care about their well-being. who put their own self-interest above the common good. who allow others to be mistreated. who put chains around others necks instead of setting people free.
the sheep are rising up.
yeah, we’re rising up. not to rise up and away from problems and pain, but rather to have courage and strength to enter into it. all over the place, God is calling people to freedom, to living out the gospel instead of talking about it, to practice instead of theory. i call it a “holy stirring” and i think we will see it get stronger & wider & deeper over the upcoming years.
so many people i know are refusing to be part of oppressive systems anymore. they are finding their way outside of the traditional confines of religion & meeting God in unlikely places. they are renewing their passions and serving in all kinds of wild and beautiful ways that is viewed by the establishment as subversive even though it’s the closest thing to the gospel i’ve ever seen. artists are creating. silenced voices are speaking. young people are voting with their feet. chains are breaking. dignity is being slowly & painfully being restored in little pockets of love & freedom that are often unseen & unnoticed by the masses.
but it’s happening.
the prophets are emerging from below, from underneath, from unlikely places.
God is calling people out of numbness and complacency. and just like our hands feel when we warm them up after they freeze in the snow, it’s going to hurt. like really hurt. unfreezing our hearts, hands, feet, mouths, and brains is going to hurt as we thaw out and find our true identity created in the image of God. parts of us are going to come alive that were once left for dead. we’re going to have to use muscles that have atrophied. we’re going to feel things we haven’t felt before. we’re going to be more vulnerable and unprotected. we’re going to doubt our voices. we’re going to hear the critics tell us that we’re stupid & disgruntled & should quit complaining. we’re going to doubt ourselves and wonder if maybe “going back to egypt” will make it feel better.
some will go back to their “proper place” and feel safe again.
but far more others are going to keep waking up, rising up, and breaking free from the chains that once kept us captive. we are going to keep being set free and help others be set free, too. we are going to care about the things that Jesus cares about like justice & mercy & compassion & peace & hope & restoration. we are going to band together with others from below & form little armies of change that will shift laws & topple kingdoms & break down all kinds of walls that keep people stuck.
there’s a rising up from below, calling us out of numbness. calling us to freedom. calling us to justice. calling us to mercy. calling us to love.
God, keep thawing us out. we know it’s time.
* * * * *
ps: i have a post up today at shelovesmagazine as part of a monthly column called sheloves God. this one is called leaving the ninety-nine for the one & is adapted from the chapter in down we go called extending love, mercy and compassion. sheloves is a prophetic voice calling us out of numbness in all kinds of ways.
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check out other bloggers writing about the prophets this month (i’ll add more links as they come in tonight):
- Joy Wilson at Solacetree- The Blessing of Losing Your Faith
- Jeremy Myers at Till He Comes – I Have a Dream
- Glenn Hager at Breathe – Uncomfortably Numb
- Linda at Kingdom Grace – On Earth as it is in Heaven
- Sally at Eternal Echoes – Where are the True Prophets?
- Tammy Carter at Blessing the Beloved – No Compromise
- Alan Knox at The Assembling of Church – My Word of Prophecy: Quit Listening to Prophetic Voices
- Liz at Gracerules – Listen
- Christine Sine at Godspace – Surrounded by Prophetic Voices: Clouds of Witnesses That Call Us Out of Numbness
- Amy Martin – The Window of Suffering, the Beginning of Hope
- Kathy Escobar at The Carnival in My Head- Rising Up From Below
- K.W. Leslie at More Christ – What is God Challenging You to Do?
- Katherine Gunn at A Voice in the Desert – Where is Your Heart?
- Steve Hayes at Khanya – Murder of the Cathedral
- Leah Chang at desertsspiritsfire – Wall Street, Our Street
- Bobby Aunder at Deconstructing Neverland – Shift
- Minnow at Minnowspeaks – Day of Dialogue
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little pockets of freedom.
we’ve been talking a lot about wounds from the church at the refuge in preparation for our walking wounded gathering, which is this upcoming weekend in denver. i am really looking forward to it & oh do we have some fun stuff planned! we still have a little bit of room if you want to come & haven’t registered yet, do it today.
as we’ve been preparing for it, it is has been interesting how much has been stirred up for me about church.
as you all know, i love the church. it would have been so easy for me to throw in the towel a long time ago if i had only based things on my experience with “the system.” but the truth is that God’s people–together in some way, shape or form, living out the ways of Jesus in real & tangible ways–is sewn into my skin in ways that i don’t think i will ever be able to shake.
at the same time, as much as i love the church, i also hate what it has done–and continues to do–to so many people. i can’t stand the way it limits people. i can’t stand the way it serves itself. i can’t stand the way it excludes. i can’t stand the way it reflects the powers of the world instead of the beatitudes-infused-kingdom-of-God. i can’t stand the way it puts programs over people.
my dear friend barb murphy is the founder and director of cans for hope, a grassroots ministry dedicated to raising money to help women heal from sexual abuse & sex trafficking. i heard her speak this past weekend at a ministry event & she shared something very powerful. she said “the things we can’t stand, we are called to fix.”
the things we can’t stand, we are called to fix.
out of almost everything related to “church” the one thing i can’t stand the most is how it limits freedom. i always say that the church of Jesus Christ should be the free-est, least oppressed, most inclusive, most grace-filled place on earth. yet, as we all know, it has the reputation for being the opposite. instead of being a pocket of freedom, many churches are pockets of oppression. limiting half of the population from leading freely. keeping God safely tucked into a man-shaped box. keeping gifts squelched and in the hands of the clergy. spending resources on perpetuating a system that has nothing to do with community & changed lives & healing & transformation and everything to do with mortgages & strategic growth. constantly giving into the gravitational pull toward comfort and making sure the powerful-people-who-give stay happy. assuming people only love God “their” way instead of lots of other wild & beautiful & untraditional ways.
this past saturday evening we talked about gender inequality and the church, and i left so sad (not because of the conversation, my daughter being on the panel sharing freely about this issue will inspire me for a long time!). my sadness came when i intersected yet again with the reality that on the whole “the church” is a terrible reflection of freedom when it comes to this huge issue of gender injustice. the world, with all of its cultural bias against the dignity of women, is actually much further along when it comes to embracing and valuing women than the followers of Jesus Christ are.
in the same way i think churches should just be little pockets of love, i think that pockets of love aren’t really possible without first being a pocket of freedom.
where all people have dignity & incredible value.
where no one is oppressed or silenced or considered less-than because of their gender or race or economic status or educational status or theology or any other things that usually keep people over or under another.
where questions are valued & doubt is honored because we trust in a God who can handle it.
where God is not contained by the limits of man’s teaching.
where each person’s gifts, no matter how big or small, have a chance to be expressed.
where men & women are seen as equals and sit next to each other as brothers & sisters & friends.
so that’s why i’m still in “church.” because the thing i can’t stand, i’m called to fix.
i can’t fix the whole big system. i know i can’t.
but i can refuse to participate in systems that knowingly perpetuate oppression. that’s a small & important place to start. it’s lonely at first, when we make a stand toward freedom, but it’s so worth it later.
and most importantly i can play my small part in fixing the little systems i am part of.
i can help create little pockets of freedom. for me, these are my family, the refuge & the different groups i am part of & the relationships that i am in. none of these are perfect; they are each made up of imperfect human beings, young & old ones, and i know everyone in them doesn’t feel fully free or fully loved all of the time. i don’t, either. we live this side of heaven so i don’t expect that. but regardless of our shortcomings, it’s still possible to play our small part in participating in creating the kingdom of God now by making spaces for freedom. real Jesus-infused freedom.
Jesus “sets the oppressed free” (luke 4:18) & i’m pretty sure this isn’t what he had in mind:
i’m also reminded again of what toni morrison says: “the function of our freedom is to free someone else.”
i hope that we can all bravely step into our freedom & quit letting man-made systems limit us. then, i hope we can use this God-given freedom to free someone else.
and someone else. and someone else.
yeah, a lot of little pockets of freedom, over time, can actually create big ones.
God help us play our small part in creating little pockets of freedom, a reflection of your kingdom in the here & now.
* * * * *
a few other things:
- thanks david hayward at nakedpastor.com for the awesome cartoon.
- i think this is an awesome addition to the list of questions from the downward mobility synchroblog post last week. thanks jeff! // read it here: being loved or being used.
- i’m doing a down we go workshop this afternoon at soularize. if you’re there, come say hi!
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