"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Category: religion

God, Church, and People

As I’ve posted about recently, I’ve been struggling in the God department lately, more specifically, about where God is in all the messes that take place in this world. On a broader scale, I am talking about ISIS, innocent people being blown up, and children going hungry and being abused. On a more personal scale, my thoughts immediately go to good people I care about going through one crisis after another, without getting a break. And of course, my own struggles with constantly having to deal with daily medical issues and never seeming to get a reprieve from all of that.

My spiritual life has been even more challenged lately as I have found myself, along with my husband, in a dilemma about my (our) church life, something that has been an integral part of not only our individual lives, but our marriage as well.

When I first started going to church regularly and consistently as an adult, sometime in 2005, it was church that brought me closer to God. And I became dependent on that. But over time and especially in the last several years, I have come to learn that my relationship with God is not, and should not be, church dependent. Don’t get me wrong, I am a BIG church advocate. I think churches can be a beacon of hope, strength, and love in a community. I could spend the next several hours discussing with you all the reasons why, if you believe in God, it would be helpful for you to be a part of a church community.

But here’s the other side of it. What happens when church is not going right for you? The reasons can be many, or few. What then becomes of your relationship with God?

The past couple of months have left me with more questions than answers about God, church, and people in general, but this week, I hear God speaking to me. Sometimes I just need to shut up long enough to hear him.

I have been hearing God speak to me through the voices of others and it is starting to shift my perspective about where God is in all of the messes in the world. For example, I see God working through a friend of mine as she makes solid preparations for the future of her and her children for after her husband leaves this world. I see her strength and determination in carrying forward, despite this monumental loss that she is facing.

I hear God in her husband’s voice, my friend; a friend who has been with me for almost thirty years. We have have had the best of days together, him and I, and also some tough ones, the toughest ones being most recently. But it was God who created this amazing person in my life; one who has brought me so much laughter and love. I feel God in the authenticity of my conversations with this friend…the conversations which now include how much time he may have left and how him and his wife are handling THAT conversation with their young daughters.

Most recently, I heard God in a different friend’s voice as well. Her perspective on where God is in all the messes in her own life was the opposite of where mine has been up until recently. She saw the sequence of difficult events in her life as God supporting her and preparing her for her challenges. I’m making it sound more simple than she probably meant it, but I think you know what I am trying to say. Her message wasn’t that God was being punishing or didn’t care, but rather he was putting into place what she needed to get through it all and continue forward.

While listening to her speak, I could truly see where she felt God was in all her messes. It lightened me. It also made me wonder why we, as Christians, are not having these conversations more…the conversations about God. Are we too busy? Or are we so busy just trying to survive it all?

And when I say talking about God, I don’t mean regurgitating scripture over and over again, tossing words around in attempts to get others to subscribe to our way of believing. Or using God as a weapon to bash whatever group of people we feel are violating some Biblical law that man has misconstrued for his own use.

No. I am talking about conversations where we share with each other, on an intimate level. Share our struggles and our strengths. Our weaknesses and our victories. How we see God working, or even not working, in our lives. What our challenges are in leading a good and faith-filled life. What roll does church play in our spiritual life? How important is it? What makes us spiritually fulfilled? To me, those are some of the most important questions.

What are the important questions for you?

Reclaiming My Voice

 

“Music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain, subdues the rage of poison, and the plague.” ~ John Armstrong
 
 

Grief is a sneaky invader; creeping up on you when you least expect it sometimes. Maybe it makes its guest appearance after a random conversation or during those still hours when the house is quiet. Sometimes grief is over the loved one we have lost. Sometimes grief comes in the form of losing something that we were once capable of doing.

My invader made a visit last Thursday. I wasn’t prepared for it but then again, are we ever really prepared?

I understood the circumstances of why I was feeling particularly sad last Thursday. I had been spending some time last week with a friend of ours at doctor’s appointments. He had asked me to be, as a nurse and as a friend, a second set of ears in preparation for a major upcoming surgery he was having this week. A surgery he was going through without his wife, who suddenly passed away at such a young age; almost two years ago.

His wife, my friend.

Of course I have thought about my friend in these past two years, but it has been a long time since I have mourned her. I had gone through my grieving process and I had chosen to remember her with fond memories and joy. However last week made me stop and think about how very unfair life can be sometimes. It didn’t seem right that he couldn’t have her there with him by his side. What a loss this world experienced when she left us. The grief felt palpable once again.

Once I came home from the second day of doctor’s visits, the house was quiet when the grief hit me and I decided that maybe the best way to deal with it would be to go on my computer and browse through some photos and videos of my friend. Remember her with laughter. Like the photos she took of me eating soggy grilled asparagus. It looked like I was eating worms. Don’t ask! I eventually ended up scanning YouTube for videos as our church posts its services and choir performances videos on there.

Choir.
A tough place for me to be lately. Actually, I haven’t been there as much.

My friend was in the choir and she was the one responsible for getting me involved in our church choir. Singing for God has been one of my steadfast passions until recently. I say recently because not being able to sing for the past few months, due to struggles with my autoimmune illness, has been a loss for me. Sometimes the difficulty has been with my lungs, fatigue, the dryness of my vocal cords, or issues with reflux affecting my throat. The fact that this has happened to other Sjogren’s patients has just discouraged me all the more. A lot of the time, I truly cannot physically sing and sometimes it is just energy that I cannot afford to spend that particular day or week. Although I have to be honest, I do wonder if occasionally I am just so exhausted and discouraged, that it is just easier to sit it out. Don’t tell anyone though because most of the time, people don’t understand that part of having a chronic illness unless they have experienced it themselves.

As I was looking through these church videos, I came across a YouTube video of my fiance and I singing the song “Mary Did You Know?” at our church Christmas cantata last year. A cantata dedicated to my friend’s memory. A song that has become significant to me because I had to overcome respiratory issues to be able to pull off that performance. It was a good performance. And I was grief stricken again. Because when I heard my voice on that video, I felt like physically, I wasn’t in the same place as last year. Actually I know I am not. My illness has taken more from me physically this year, including at times, the quality of my voice. Is that selfish? Maybe. Because let’s face it, compared to my friend not being here, it’s not as significant. But it is still my loss.

Fast forward to Friday. I am sitting at a Women of Faith conference in Hartford, CT. An incredible event that you will probably hear more about at a later date. I am thoroughly enjoying listening to a Christian comedian. A man named Mark Lowry.

Mark Lowry.
Why does that name sound familiar?

I decide to stop torturing myself trying to place the name because this man is so funny, I don’t want to miss a word that he says. He’s that good.

What I didn’t realize, until he opens his mouth to do so, is that this man can also sing. What a voice on him! What a talent to be able to make people laugh and to be able to sing like that.

What I also didn’t realize? That this man write songs.

How do I know this? Because at the end of his performance, he sang a song that he wrote. A song that over thirty recording artists have performed since he wrote it.

The song?
“Mary Did You Know?”

Seriously? Come on.

Now you can say what you will about coincidence and such but here are the facts. I had tickets for this conference for months, but did not know that the man who wrote the lyrics to this song was going to be there. I had not watched the video of that Christmas cantata in at least eight or so months. I also did not know about my friend’s surgery until last week.

So I don’t believe this was all coincidence. I am typically not a person who makes radical proclamations and I certainly do not typically write about them publicly online; although maybe I will more often now.

I believe this was God speaking to me.
I believe this was my friend speaking to me.

I believe they were telling me that as long as I am not harming myself, to keep singing as best as I can, when I can, but to push a little harder.

I believe they were telling me to stop comparing myself to other people. To get back to my speech therapy exercises, to do some research online, to stop reading about what other Sjogren’s patients can and cannot do for a while.

And finally, I believe they were telling me to believe a little less in my illness and a little more in myself.


































































































Photo Courtesy of Google Images

Peace Be With You

“Peace is not something you wish for, it is something you make, something you are, something you do, and something you give away. ” ~ Robert Fulghum

On the first Sunday of the month, which is Communion Sunday, we pass the peace in my church. This is a common practice in many Christian churches although the way it takes places can differ from church to church and denomination to denomination. When I was growing up in the Catholic church, this was a process in which we would turn to the people to the sides of us, behind us and in front of us and say “peace be with you” and shake their hand. If the person was family, maybe we would hug or kiss them as well.

In my current Protestant church, the passing of the peace is a more gregarious affair. Depending on how familiar we are with the person, we either shake their hand or hug them. There is a lot more hugging, or rather embracing, than hand shaking compared to most other churches; at least ones that I have attended. We either say “peace”, “peace be with you”, “hi, how are you”, or whatever else feels appropriate. People rarely stay in their pews and they wander all over the place. It is truly an exchange of peace and good will in a Christian community of people. It is one of my favorite times of the month at my church.

Today I was passing the peace to a family my fiance and I have been spending some time with lately outside of Sunday service. The family consists of a grandmother and her four grandchildren. As I let go of the oldest child’s hand after wishing him peace, he said to me, “Chris, what does peace mean?”

Leave it to a ten year old to throw me off balance.
Such a simple, yet profound question.

Of course, this entire passing of the peace at church takes all of about five to ten minutes so I didn’t have time, at that moment, to sit down and discuss it with him but I simply said that peace meant calmness. It was really all I could think of as a response at that moment. I am not sure if he understood exactly what my response meant in the midst of of the flurry of peace passing activity, but that is a conversation that we can have more in depth at another time.

It got me to thinking though. Don’t we all know what peace is or the meaning of the word peace? I mean seriously, isn’t it obvious? If you look in any commonly used dictionary, you will see several different definitions for the word peace. You know what I think though? I think that most of the time, peace means something different for each of us. I think the paths we take to get to that state of peace is also different for each of us.

To that ten year old child, peace may mean having the comfort and security of a grandmother who tucks him in at night and loves him unconditionally. Peace for him may mean knowing who the adults are in his life that he can count on. Maybe it means to him knowing that as he grows older, he has a church community that is a home to him no matter what obstacles life hurls at him.

For me, peace means many things and takes on several different forms. It is a state of mind, of spirit, and of soul. Peace is when my spirit is full or when my mind is calm. The best is when both happen at the same time. A difficult thing for me, or anyone for that matter, to achieve these days. Peace is also when my body, soul and spirit are at peace with whatever havoc may be going on physically with my body at any given moment. A very difficult task to accomplish indeed.

Many people say that peace is being in harmony with other people. To me, that is not always the case because I have come to find that I have no control over other people, how they think about me, and especially what they do. So my peace, or harmony, comes from realizing this and also in realizing that the only person I have any control over is myself. Therefore when I think and act in a way that is true to myself, I am at peace.

I am at peace when I am able to pull myself out of the stress and anxiety of the misfortunes that life may throw at me and am instead able to appreciate what are considered the small things in life such as the feeling of my dog’s breathing as she sleeps quietly with her head on my chest. Or maybe the serenity of being in my house on a fall afternoon when the sun streams through the large glass windows and the loudest sound I hear is the birds playing outside on the deck.

I find peace with myself when I am able to not be preoccupied with the “what ifs” and the” I can’t” thoughts that often invade my brain. When I am able to put the negative thoughts away and instead replace them with positive thoughts and the thought that the only limitations I have are those that I put upon myself.

Peace with myself is when I accept myself as I am right now, right at this moment.

Just as importantly, peace is something that we can give to someone else. It can be simple and cost us nothing. When we extend ourselves and our love to another human being in an act of giving or generosity, we give peace. It may be in the form of a meal or a phone call. A listening ear or our time. In some way, when we ease someone else’s burden, we give another person some peace of mind.

Giving peace to another person may come in the form of not judging them and accepting them for who they are in their moment. No questions. No criticisms. Just love. So that they may feel free to feel less stress and anxiety; to be at peace with where they are in their life journey.

So maybe my answer to my ten year old friend was accurate after all.

Peace IS calmness.

Of mind.
Of body.
Of soul.
Of spirit.

Where do you find YOUR peace?

Photo: Courtesy of Chuck Myers (http://myerscreativephotography.zenfolio.com/)

Are You There God? It’s Me, Christine

“People see God every day, they just don’t recognize him.” ~ Pearl Bailey

Remember that book? Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret by Judy Blume was a pop culture sensation written in the 1970’s. As a child of the seventies and eighties, it was a must have for any teenager’s bookshelf. It is the story of a young girl’s quest for a single religion during a time in her life where she is confronting so many coming of age issues. At one point during the book, Margaret becomes angry at God and stops talking to him after she is in the middle of a confrontation between her parents and her grandparents. However by the end of the story, we hear Margaret praying to God again as she thanks him for being there for her.

When I woke up this morning my first immediate thought was to wonder if God was there with me. I have to admit, it is not the first thought I usually have in the morning but it was powerful enough to send me to my laptop at seven in the morning so here I am; writing a blog entry that it not intended to answer a question or a dilemma. One that does not describe some great lesson that I have learned. But rather an entry that just asks and explores difficult questions.

I tend to shy away from a lot of religious or spiritual topics and writings on my blog or anywhere else, mostly because  my spirituality is such a personal topic for me. Over the years my faith has become stronger than it ever has; adversity tends to do that to a person. But I have come to realize recently that I am at a critical point in my faith journey. This became strikingly apparent to me during a conversation with my minister the other day. I explained to him that I am just ticked off at God lately. Well, I may have used other words at the time but I will try to be a little more mature when describing it here. I further went on to explain that I feel abandoned by God lately. When I go to church, I feel lifted up and supported by him (my minister) and the fellow members of my congregation, but I am having a really hard time locating God.

This realization on my part startled me for several reasons. First, the events going on in my life right now health wise are truly not the most difficult times I have experienced in recent years. They may be scary and frustrating but I have been through much worse at times; times where I was not surrounded by nearly the amount of love and support I have now. Second, during those times, I have never asked “why me?” or have thought that God has not been as close by as I would have liked. So it confuses me as to why I feel so inclined to question my faith at this point. Maybe it is as simple as I am just worn down. Maybe I am feeling sorry for myself. Or maybe it is because that during this particular time of struggle is when I have to search for my faith and my connection with God using a little more effort.

One of the things that I really like about my minister is his ability to handle situations like this without judgment or condemnation and once again, he rose to the occasion. He listened and then he asked me if I had told God this; about being ticked off at him. Um, no. Who does that? But as we continued to talk, I realized well, why not? I pray, which is essentially talking to God. Prayer does not need to always be about thanking God or asking him to help someone else. Sometimes it can just be a conversation. If I was ticked off at someone else in my life whom I have a meaningful relationship with, I would tell them how upset I was with them. And God and I, well, we have a relationship. Maybe prayer does not need to be all that complicated.

Maybe it is as easy as asking “Are You There God? It’s Me Christine.”

Photo Courtesy of Chuck Myers

Finding God

Church isn’t where you meet. Church isn’t a building. Church is what you do. Church is who you are. Church is the human outworking of the person of Jesus Christ. Let’s not go to Church, let’s be the Church.” ~ Bridget Willard

My soul felt empty and my spirit was restless. This is how I felt several years ago when I made the decision to switch religions and attend a non-Catholic church. Difficult times can do that to a person, make you question God and wonder where he is. For some people, God does not have to be in a church; people say they worship God in nature or by their occupation. I tried that. It didn’t work for me. That’s not to say it doesn’t work for other people, but I was looking for something different.
I had been raised in the Catholic church and had dutifully gone through all the rites associated with that including CCD classes, premarital classes, etc. I didn’t agree with many of the church’s teachings but it was all I had ever known. As a result, I found myself in a spiritual crisis of sorts several years ago. I belonged to a Catholic church but rarely attended. The times I did go, I left there feeling as empty and lost as when I went in. I know many people have strong negative feelings about the current status of the Catholic church, but my point is not to bash the Catholic church. It’s merely to point out that for me, it was not meeting my spiritual needs. I did not find God there, no matter how hard I searched.
I really needed to find God too. My marriage was crumbling. I vacillated between being depressed and being more depressed. I had managed to isolate myself from a lot of family and friends. I found every day to be a struggle. I thought that if I could just find a place that gave me comfort, restored my faith in the world, and helped me find God, I might be OK.
I was lucky enough to be given a book written by an evangelical minister named Joel Osteen. Although he has quite conservative views about many things which I did not agree with, his book inspired me. He presented the possibility that the concepts of religion, spirituality, and God could be found in everyday life. His presented faith and spirituality in a way that was understandable and meaningful to me. Through his book, I came to realize that there may be a way to worship that would hold meaning for me. It didn’t have to be all about rituals and rules that felt hypocritical. Coincidentally during this time, one of my best friends asked me to be a godmother to her daughter. They belonged to a United Church of Christ (UCC) and it was through that experience of her baptism, that I had the opportunity to see a way of worshipping that held significance for me. I decided at that point, it was time to start exploring other religions and churches.
I only made it through two churches in my quest. Belchertown UCC (BUCC) being the first. I only even checked out a second church because I felt like I owed it to myself to have another Protestant church to compare it to. I stopped looking because after I checked out the second church, I found myself really wanting to go back to BUCC.
It’s a strange thing to go from attending a Catholic mass to a UCC service. I remember the first time I had walked in the door for my first service, someone actually greeted me and said hello. I was shocked. Then after realizing that the ceiling was not going to cave in from me walking through the door of a non-Catholic church, I made another observation: people were talking to each other before the service even started and some were even laughing. Laughing in a church?? For me, that was like hitting the jackpot!
A lot of things were different. There were no kneelers (because we didn’t kneel…bonus.). Communion was once a month instead of every week. The minister was a minister and not a priest so this one was married, with kids even. The congregation was the most diverse group of people I had ever seen gathered together in a place of worship. I subsequently found out that the church is open and affirming which meant that everyone was welcome regardless of race, sexual orientation, disability, income level, etc. This church also seemed geared towards helping other people through mission work. At the end of my first service at BUCC, I was sold. I knew I wanted to be there. I wanted to have what they had.
As it ends up, that was one of the best decisions I have made in my life, ever. My church has become another family for me. I went from barely getting myself to Mass at my old church twice a year to feeling lost if I didn’t make it to BUCC for a Sunday or two. In the process of attending, I have begun to develop the relationship with God that I was looking for. It’s an ongoing process but one that I build on every time I volunteer with church members to work at the soup kitchen, help organize/work a walk against hunger, or attend a healing service. I actually read the Bible from time to time which for some reason, was a foreign concept to me before. I have made friends and established relationships that sustain and nurture me. I have learned to more effectively work through conflict. I have learned how to feel comfortable praying. I feel accepted and I have learned to be more accepting. I have learned the value of community.

I have had the opportunity over the past several days to talk about my church experiences with different people. It’s been good for me to look back and appreciate how much finding my church and subsequently finding God again has changed my life. I know it’s not for everyone, but if you are feeling lost and empty like I used to, take a chance. Step outside the box and maybe check out a church you have always wondered about. You just never know what you may find. You may even find God again.