Yet every distance is not near

I talked to one of my close friends about all this church and Christianity stuff yesterday, and she was kind of encouraging. She said I need to contact the guy who gave us that weird word and ask him about it. Ray got me his email address today, so we will see what happens. My friend also said she thinks I am being targeted by "the enemy" because I am "powerful." I hate that kind of language.

I am again thinking that I just need to go to a different church (like this Episcopal one that is two blocks away). I think half my problem is the church we are going to. But it would be really hard for my husband if I stopped going. My friends would be sad too. And my daughter would probably be confused about why we weren't all going anymore. And I am kind of fascinated by our church--whenever we miss a Sunday, I am afraid I am going to miss some interesting charismatic production or that I am going to miss experiencing God or something.

All that to say, as much as it would probably be a good idea for me personally to go somewhere else, I don't think I can or will. I am too people-pleasing and social--and our church is our primary community right now.

She's gotta be strong to fight them

The other thing I have become aware of, mostly during parenting, is how difficult it is to actually love people the way God supposedly loves us. Some fellow mom who happened to be a psychologist told me a couple years ago, when my older daughter was just starting to be naughty, that she did not really believe in discipline. I was pretty horrified, and didn't really like her overly-attached parenting style anyway, but the more I think about it, the more sense the idea makes.

She is also a Christian and her perspective was that we need to imitate God's parenting style. He doesn't really punish us when we are wrong (though my possibly screwed up view of God does include punishment and wrath), but that he does let us suffer consequences. When we make mistakes and fail and hurt others or ourselves or disobey rules, he is always there for us, every single time, ready to forgive us and help us figure things out. (Remember I am saying this because it is ingrained in me because it is what I believed before I started doubting, but it is not necessarily what I believe now.) I have the hardest time being patient with my daughter, even if she is being disobedient just because she is tired or hungry or sick, much less when she is being unkind or rebellious for no good reason. It is actually pretty incredible to picture a being who is infinitely patient and loving with us, ready to take us back and help us do whatever we want, even when we are scratching and hitting and biting him.

Yesterday, after a long, hard, multi-temper-tantrum-filled day with my daughter who happens to have a flu of some sort and who I was being extremely impatient with, she told me, "You don't love me anymore." It was horrible. She wouldn't repeat what she said after the first time, because I hardly heard it and couldn't believe my ears, and asked her to say it louder, but I know what I heard. She is also struggling with jealousy of her baby sister, who gets most of my attention. Anyway, the point of the story is that I still wasn't patient with her--I dragged her upstairs, ripped off her clothes, and forced her to take a bath in water that she deemed "too hot." I don't know why I was having such a hard time being patient with her sickness and exhaustion, but I was. So besides the awful guilt I feel for being so cruel, I also can't really picture a God who would be THAT patient with us. It's very unlikely.

You may call me R.J., you may call me Ray

I was talking with one of my best friends the other day about how our parents don't have close friends. It's like after some period of time or some certain age, you don't maintain good friends any more. We were trying to figure out why, and we came to the conclusion that you become less and less willing to be open and honest and vulnerable about who you really are.

You develop a need to maintain some facade of righteousness or normality from everyone outside your family. Look at children--they are completely honest, and then we slowly train them not to say and do certain things because they are inappropriate (which is often true--e.g. don't hit or bite) or because other people might not approve (e.g. talking about poop or farts in public). I am painfully aware of this with my daughter. Whenever I say poopy or anything like that outside of our home, she says, "Don't say that, Mommy. People will think you are yucky!" But she is just fine with whatever scatological vulgarity that comes out of my mouth at home. I think this issue is especially true of Christians, particularly those in ministry, like my parents or my friend's parents. They have this need to maintain a certain Christian image--even if it is not what they necessarily believe--for the sake of not upsetting or offending other people or losing respect and their reputation.

That is why maybe I need to make this blog public. I am beginning my journey towards dishonesty and secrecy about what I really think and believe, and I need to change directions FAST.

I dream of gardens in the desert sand

Doing much better today. My friend offered to share her yard with me to plant a garden together. Always dreamed of it.

I find it hard to tell you

I just did something I shouldn't have done. I looked at blogs of friends of mine who are living in other exotic places in the world doing the sorts of things I dream about. I hate that I shouldn't do that sort of thing because it just puts me into a funk about my own life, but it does... every time. God, if you are real, please just give me contentment and peace.

My daughters both have bad fevers tonight, and my husband is at a friend's house watching basketball. I feel alone and sad and worried. I wish I felt like I could just be with Jesus or something. It's times like these that I wish he would save me from myself and my deep sadness. And I don't even know where my sadness comes from.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares

I remember being so frustrated when my sister stopped believing in God at some point in her life because she just wasn't making enough of an effort. Since then she has moved on and probably has more faith than me, but it is weird to think of how I just didn't get it. I thought not believing was her choice.

I have been thinking this evening about the course of this whole process and when my doubt all began this most recent time, and I think it really started when I entered grad school in September 2006, over 2.5 years ago. I didn't really have time to spend on all my Christian stuff (praying, reading the Bible, etc.) anymore, and sure enough, doubt set in. (Some would say, I made way for "the enemy." So annoying.) I want to write more about this tomorrow, but the point is that I do blame myself. I still feel guilt about it. If I had just worked harder to stay focused on God and keep this negativity at bay, maybe all would still be fine and dandy.

But if I really believe in the Jesus I used to believe in, who preaches that love and grace cover all, I shouldn't have all that awful guilt. The truth is that I don't think we as Christians actually believe that love and grace cover everything.

I don't shine if you don't shine

The Sirens

I never knew the road
From which the whole earth didn’t call away,
With wild birds rounding the hill crowns,
Haling out of the heart an old dismay,
Or the shore somewhere pounding its slow code,
Or low-lighted towns
Seeming to tell me, stay.

Lands I have never seen
And shall not see, loves I will not forget,
All I have missed, or slighted, or foregone
Call to me now. And weaken me. And yet
I would not walk a road without a scene.
I listen going on,
The richer for regret.

A real big heart and a father's grace

Tonight we went and listened to our friend's band perform. He is a friend from church, and everyone there that we knew were friends from church. I ended up having an awesome conversation with one couple that totally renewed my faith. Just kidding, though I know that is an absolutely horrible thing to kid about. Actually, the conversation was about losing faith. The husband has been struggling with his faith for about three years now, pretty much ever since the two of them got married. He went to Moody Bible Institute (a super Christian college) and grew up in a Baptist family, like me. He has stopped going to church for about a year now, though his wife is still very actively involved.

He said that he has basically stopped struggling with it. He has almost completely decided it is too difficult and exhausting and has ended up on the side of not believing. Interestingly, they are expecting a baby this summer, which I am sure complicates matters. At least it would for me.

I asked if he is just waiting for faith to come back to him suddenly, to alight on his shoulder like a dove as I picture it (I didn't actually provide that cheesy image), which is what I feel like I am kind of waiting for. I expect that one day, hopefully (and I had previously assumed surely) before Easter, I will suddenly be filled with complete belief again. It will all be real and true and indisputable once more. But maybe I have started on a longer road than I had originally anticipated, like Odysseus. Maybe it isn't going to end at Easter.

Go get me my pistol, babe

I went running with my friend this morning (and all four of our kids in two jogging strollers), so I am feeling good. It's amazing what the outdoors and a good dose of happy hormones can do for the human psyche.

While jogging and amid many heaving breaths for air, I was telling my friend about my mom's family. It is her father who is dying, and she has three siblings and a somewhat crazy, probably Borderline mother (my grandmother). My mom's youngest sister has devoted her life to money and being beautiful. She was a small-time model for a while, and she is tall and thin and dark and quite pretty, especially after the nose and boob jobs. She used to have a massive Greek shnoz. My mom has a smaller one, which I find very unique and beautiful, but apparently, my aunt thought hers needed to go.

My aunt did not have any kids because she didn't want any and got married to a guy named "Rich" a few years ago, in part because of his name. She and my mom have since had a falling out. And my aunt, let's call her Sue, has still not visited her father, my grandfather, in the hospital, even though he was given 5-10 days to live about a month ago. How insane is that? We aren't sure if it is because she is trying to avoid my mom, who lives in the same town as my grandparents, or if it is because she is angry at my grandparents because of some money she thinks they should have given her. Either way, she has absolutely no excuse. She has limitless funds, a job she does from home, and no kids to be worried about. It doesn't make sense. This same aunt apparently has complained in the past about how my grandparents have given so much of their money away "to people they don't even know," namely poor children they have created sponsorship programs for in developing countries via their mission organization. Who says that kind of thing!?

So I mentioned to my friend, while we were jogging, that Aunt Sue is a good example of what happens when you worry too much about money and your looks. My friend agreed that my aunt seems extremely greedy and selfish, but she asked what is so wrong about caring about money and looks, which made me think about my comment more. I guess it isn't wrong to care about those things, but there needs to be a balance.

But actually, I kind of do think those things are shallow things to care about, even though I worry about them myself, to my shame. In and of themselves, they are not meaningful. Money can be great and useful and save lives, and taking care of yourself physically is healthy and good for your self-esteem. I don't know. I just want to be a hermit. With my daughters and husband and garden right outside of our little hermit cave.

Looking for a pot of gold

I have started tithing again, not because I am wanting to worship God with my finances or obey what he tells us to do in the Bible by giving, but because our financial situation sucks right now, and usually tithing seems to help. So here goes.

The speaker at the conference last weekend talked about how tithing is really good for your finances and my husband just told me that our pastor told him that if you don't tithe "that money just disappears." Also, in the past I have noticed that when we make painful tithes that don't seem to make sense to do, we do seem to end up being okay and even ending up with more than we anticipated. One Sunday morning we gave a painful $1000 lump sum tithe, and that afternoon Ray's grandparents told us they wanted to pay off his college loans. Pretty cool. In that particular circumstance it seemed pretty miraculous and kind of attributable to God, but in general, I think tithing just forces you to be more conscious of what you are spending money on.

So on the phone I told Ray that I wasn't tithing out of worship but out of a desire to make more money. He was appalled. Then I explained that I am just trying to be more honest about this stuff, and that once again, someone (he) was jumping down my throat for it, making me feel like a greedy, unbelieving jerk. I am curious, though, if the tithing principle (give more, get more) will work if you aren't doing it for the right motive. They say not to test God, and that really isn't what I am trying to do, but I am curious.

This brings me to another issue I have been having, which is that our church seems to be pretty into making money recently. I don't like it. They are against the sort of poverty mentality, whereby you think God wants us all to live like the poor and suffer, etc., but when I look at Jesus' life, I don't see someone trying to make a bunch of money. For example, this one church we seem to be trying to model ourselves after sells everything they have... for a lot of money. Their bookstore rakes in millions each year. I need to ask someone about this, but my gut reaction is that that sounds just like the people selling doves and whatnot at the tabernacle when Jesus blasted in and started overturning tables. Why do we all just seem to pick and choose what we like about the Bible? I, for example, love the depressing Bible stuff, like the story of Job. Not stories like that of Solomon, who gets tons of wives and concubines and money just because he chose wisdom. I pick and choose just like everyone else. But I don't like other people's interpretations of the Bible, so what am I supposed to do?

Just a stranger on the bus

Well, our trusty old iBook just stopped working while I was working on my thesis presentation on it. I don't exactly remember when I last saved the document or even if I will be able to get the computer started again, so I am not feeling too positive.

However, on the whole, it has been a good day. On "good days" I don't think about my faith too much. I just enjoy my kids and the outdoors and make connections with my friends and feel love for and loved by my husband. Good days do not seem to have correlations with my spirituality or Christianity. They are just kind of zen and peaceful.

I watched the beginning of Hitch last night because my parents and in-laws had recommended it and it happened to be on TV, and there was this line about how we should not try to see how long we can live but how many unforgettable moments we can have. Something like that--basically that the quantity of moments should matter much less than the quality, which I think I agree with.

Unfortunately, I keep thinking cynical thoughts about what happened at church yesterday. This is the basic outline of my negative thought: The only reason that the intern from the visiting church called me and Ray to stand up and have a word was because he happened to know our names. He probably only knew the names of about eight people at church (maybe a few more), and nobody else besides our friends, Leticia and her husband, knew that he knew us at all. Of course he picked us out of the masses. First of all, we had some sort of rapport already and even a mutual respect or understanding. Secondly, it must have looked that much more incredible and supernatural to the rest of the congregation when he called our names, almost as if God had just given him those names out of the blue, as though he wasn't even sure there were two people with our names at the church. You could hear a general sound of awe coming from the congregation when he called us, and that is probably why.

The other part that bothers me is that the verse and passage he prophesied over us was not really positive. In fact, besides the fact that he compared us to God's chosen people, Israel (a concept I have struggled with, as it is--that God has one "chosen" people), whom had been blessed profoundly, there was nothing very encouraging about the passage. It is about how we have rejected God and given up our faith. I wonder if the intern even knows that. Supposedly, the whole point of "words" is to reveal really positive good stuff, the "gold" within people. I cannot see how that passage calls out the gold in us. When we went up to have the guy pray for us, I expressed the fact that I wasn't really sure if I believed in God anymore, and then when he prayed, he didn't really have much to say. I wonder if it is because he realized this whole situation.

So that's my purging of negativity towards God for today. I wonder if he sent Jesus to say "I love you" to me (to REALLY prove he exists) if I would even believe it was Jesus or if he really truly actually meant that he loved me. Even if I did believe, I would probably just feel guilty that Jesus had to come waste his time to talk to me just because I am such a doubting Thomas. This sucks.

A buck forty, hydroplanin'

So today was kind of the end of this conference. The people who came to lead it are leaving today, but they led the morning church services. The singing and worship was really good, and I even went up to the front with my baby daughter, which is what all the really "into it" people do, though they are usually waving flags and dancing and jumping around and annoying me. Still, I felt pretty self-conscious and like I was succumbing to emotion by going up there. We sang all these songs with the lyrics "holy, holy" in them, which is what our pastor feels like is the angels way of singing. When the service should have been done, he (the pastor) went up and suggested indirectly that there were lots of angels around with us and asking if we wanted to keep worshiping.

I went and got my older daughter from Sunday school, afraid I was going to miss something exciting, as I had felt when I went to that dinner party instead of the conference the night before. When we came back into the sanctuary, we went up to the front to be with Leticia and her kids and let our children wave flags and enjoy the music. By this point the team of people who had come to lead the conference came to the front and began to share the "words" they had for us. There were things about the church, about single mothers, about people with Down syndrome, you get the drift.

Now we had met the two interns who had come with the main pastor leading the conference and his wife, because they (the interns) were staying at our friends' house where our daughters were sleeping. They were nice and seemed quite intelligent and interesting.

So at this point in the service, amid all the general words, one of the interns said, "Ray and Marie, please stand up." Nobody else had been called by name like that. Ray was in the back of the room, but he came up and joined me. I don't really remember what all was said, but I felt like I was going to laugh and cry and was very trembly and nervous, which all seems to be part of the production.

The guy then said something about how our family had been chosen like the people of Israel and God's loincloth. I didn't get it, but being compared to the people of Israel is scary and intimidating and not entirely nice. He also said something about "a people, a name, a praise, a glory." After it was all over, Ray wanted to go up and have the guy pray for us. I told him right off the bat that I didn't really believe in God anymore, but he didn't seem too judgmental or surprised. However, when he prayed, he didn't really say anything. And usually, these people go on and on when they pray, with all this wordy, annoying eloquent stuff. It was kind of awkward, but not too bad. All in all, I left church feeling extremely special and loved, chosen by God to do something special.

Since coming home this afternoon, however, I have looked up the verse he told us he had been given for us, Jeremiah 13:11, I am more confused than ever. It is really not positive.

" 'For as a belt is bound around a man's waist, so I bound the whole house of Israel and the whole house of Judah to me,' declares the LORD, 'to be my people for my renown and praise and honor. But they have not listened.'"

I read the whole chapter and it is even worse. I then looked up some commentary on it, and it gives me the feeling that God is saying he chose us, gave us all these gifts and opportunities, and we rejected it all. Now we have a sense of entitlement because he chose us, but he has nothing left for us.

Who knows what this website, but read the following exegesis of the verse:

"He (Jeremiah) confirms what we noticed yesterday, — that the Jews entertained a foolish confidence, and promised themselves perpetual happiness, because God had chosen them as his people. This indeed would have been a perpetual glory to them, had they not violated their pledged faith; but their defection rendered void God’s covenant as far as they were concerned: for though God never suffered his faithfulness to fail, however false and perfidious they were, yet the adoption from which they had departed availed them nothing. But as they thought it an unalienable defense, the Prophet again repeats that they had been indeed adorned with singular gifts, but that, as they had not remained faithful, they would be deprived of them"
(http://www.ccel.org/ccel/calvin/calcom18.v.v.html).

Basically, I feel more hopeless than before.

Also, at church Ray told me how he had another picture for me in which I was holding a baby constantly, but holding the baby was keeping me from doing other important things. The point of the dream was that I needed to pass the baby to him so that I could actually do something. This sounds more like it. Maybe I need to pass on my dreams to him so that I can stop carrying them and trying to make them happen. He can take over that responsibility so that I can finally rest, and trust that he will take care of making them come true.

Don't let me drift too far

Yesterday at the afternoon session of this conference a couple of our friends (a husband and wife) sat next to us. The wife wrote me a note asking if I was okay, etc., and I responded honestly, telling her I felt really yucky and evil and like I was radiating negativity and feeling really guilty about it. She responded with... you guessed it, a "picture." Her picture was a rock with a crack in it, and I was the crack, apparently. However, in my mind it makes more sense that I would be the rock itself. So she said the rock needs to just split and crack fully open instead of being sealed or glued shut again.

Though you know I am extremely skeptical about all of this stuff, I chose to interpret the image to mean that I need to just deal with the @#%$ inside of me instead of trying to fix it up and make it go away. The problem, that I have expressed to a few people, is that I don't know how far down I am going to go if I let myself. It's kind of scary.

My husband, let's call him Ray, though I do not particularly like that name, said that he, also, had something for me. Remember, all of this is not too abnormal in our church. Ray said that he just kept hearing God telling him that I need to be more confrontational, on every front. I need to be confrontational with him, Ray, with my friends, with my family (which is terrifying), with our church, and most importantly, with God. Our friend, Leticia (not her real name either), was listening in, suggested, "I hate you and I don't believe you!" I was pretty shocked to hear her suggest saying anything that offensive to God. She is a people pleaser too and very Christiany, in a good way. I think I just have feel so guilty for questioning at all. Guilty about hurting my family and offending my friends at church and about disappointing God and about leading my children astray and about needing attention or thinking I am too smart for this stuff. You know what I mean. So hearing her say that was almost offensive to me. I was pretty shocked. It seemed like it would piss God off.

Last night I also chose to go to a dinner party of some old friends (actually my sister's friends) instead of going to the evening session of the conference. It was really good, because most of those friends are very cynical former-Christians. I think I needed to be around people who understood my resentment and skepticism more, even if we didn't actually talk about it. It just felt wonderful to not feel like such an offensive alien, as though I could almost say whatever I wanted.

You can have all this world, just give me Jesus

Tonight and tomorrow we are attending a conference at our church. The conference is supposedly going to be about "a culture of honor" which is some radical concept that changed this church out in California (some Bethel church) and brought about this crazy revival there. Basically, I think our church is trying to mimic whatever happened to them. Think lots of crazy antics and super-spiritual, hyper-enthusiastic people. I am doubtful that this is the best sort of event for me to attend in my current frame of mind, but as usual, I am just going to put my head down and go with the flow. I will just stifle all my doubt and irritation and act like I am somewhat "into it" as usual. I just feel like the better place for me at this point in time, would be more along the lines of a silent retreat. I just really need the time and space to figure out what I think, without the pressure of hundreds of other people around me, including my closest friends, urging me to "let the Spirit move me," etc. It just feels like such a production.

I keep hoping that maybe I will suddenly come upon the missing piece that will answer all my questions and doubts, and that perhaps, just maybe, this conference will be it. But the problem is that I keep pinning my hopes on things like this and then they disappoint me, leaving me even more befuddled than before. When am I going to finally hit the bottom of this doubt? Will I believe in anything anymore? How angry and ugly will I be by then? Is there a bottom? I had been so convinced that if I just devoted this Lenten season to figuring out my issues with God, I would come to some good, solid conclusions and ultimately feel so close to Jesus once again.

I was sure it would be one of those things where I would instantaneously be reunited with him and feel amused by the fact that I had ever doubted, if I only committed myself to something like this. On the contrary, I feel like I am pushing myself farther and farther away by addressing the problem. It's the way I feel when my husband and I fight and there is no resolution, only greater distance between us. This is really not what I wanted. I need some kind of magic bean to make me believe again and turn everything back the way it was.

I will let you down, I will make you hurt

I really don't feel like blogging right now, but I know I need to do it. Today I have been thinking about the problem of evil, which is a regular faith-challenger.

Yesterday, the dismembered body of a 30-something Hispanic man was found in four garbage bags in an alley only two blocks from our home--only meters from the park I take my daughters everyday in the summer. This is sick and disturbing and sad and even frightening.

Yesterday, also, a German teen killed 15 people, including himself in a school shooting and subsequent standoff with police, and a man in Alabama shot 10 people to death. There was even a three-month-old baby who was shot but will probably survive. How do we process these things and not feel confused, sick, and resentful? All I can think about is my beautiful, perfect young daughters sleeping in the room next to me, only feet away.

How do I raise these children and believe in God in a world where these things happen? In many ways, it is the only thing I can do--to have faith in something greater amid such sickness. But that still doesn't answer the question of why those things must happen in the first place. Believing in God to make it all mean something seems like an easy way out of the pain.

Two paths

There are two ways to think about my life right now. One, I am supposed to be patiently waiting right now. God is teaching me something. I am being prepared, honed for our future, wherever that takes us. And God knows the desires of my hearts and is going to bless them, beyond what I can even imagine. If I only stop complaining the the Israelites in the desert, and trustingly give him everything--complete control of my life, submitting my will to his--we will live fulfilling lives of joy, service, and meaning, and ultimately arrive at the promised land... which I sure hope is a perfect little bungalow on the beach, surrounded by people we love. This will happen after my husband makes a difference at his job and is fully prepared for our future life, possibly even after he makes a ton of money. This last part in particular (the millions of dollars) is not part of my vision at all, but has been suggested by people at our church, who are fully convinced of the beginning part of this way to think about my life.

And here is number two, the other way you could look at our lives. We are stuck here. My husband happened to get a job that matched his skillset to some degree and which he likes quite a bit. He is an optimistic, enthusiastic, charismatic person who would enjoy and succeed at whatever he set his mind, but this is where he landed. He will now enjoy and succeed at this part. I, his pessimistic, cynical, not-so-"better half" am meanwhile resenting this life, as many wives and mothers throughout history have presumably resented their lack of say in such things, and the fact that it is not at all what I envisioned my/our life/lives to look like. If I was a stronger-willed, domineering, manipulative wife, I would force my plan for the future to take shape, but as it is, I am only passive aggressively trying to take my path, my secretly hoping my husband fails at or loses his job or decides he is sick of the freezing weather and would prefer more access to the outdoors, like me.

Now the Christian perspective on the latter interpretation of our lives would be very negative and judgmental. How could I be so ungrateful for God's provision for our health and finances and family and how could I be so untrusting that he will someday make all my fantasies come true? In fact, maybe if I forced it to happen, as I suggested would be a solution to the second life interpretation, I would actually end up ruining the path he has planned for me, ultimately "straying from his will" (though I admit that many Christians do agree that it impossible to be outside of God's will, which only reinforces that I should force my plan, even if it means a lot of stress on my marriage and family because ultimately, God will fix what I have @#$%ed up anyway).

So therein lies the rub. And I can't seem to just adopt one interpretation and run with it, which would make everything much easier. I am stuck between the two, some days joyfully believing the first and other days being angrily convinced of the second. This is part of the curse of being raised Christianly, to be horribly negative yet again. Man, my armpits are sweating and I just took a shower, after that level of blasphemy. But then again, am I right and feeling unjustly guilty or am I in big trouble with God for having such a bad attitude about him? Or does he actually have mercy on me? Maybe neither of these paths are the real way, but there is something else I don't know about yet.

Dazed and confused

Today I am feeling much better than I was on Saturday. I went back to our church for the first time in three weeks yesterday and was reminded of all my confusion. Everyone is so convinced that anything that could possibly interpreted as movement by the Holy Spirit to, in fact, be the Holy Spirit. It is like a free-for-all. If you feel God "giving you a word" or "telling you" to do something, whatever you say or do will make other people respect you more and think you have this great connection with God.

For a while we were in a House Group (which is like a devotional or Bible Study), and at that time I was feeling much "closer" to God. Occasionally, when we were praying or singing I would get the desire to say something based on an intuitive feeling I was having, and when I did everyone would be so touched and impressed by what I said. For example, one time I said I had an image of the couple who we were praying for walking down a hallway with many doors open to them and then reaching one that they ultimately walked through. How generic is that? It simply evokes many Jungian symbols and images, inspiring a sense of meaning. After the prayer session, the wife told me that my particular "picture" was the most meaningful for them, but even while I was telling them about it I felt like I was just making it up. Periodically, people would tell me that everything I said (things that I usually felt were extremely cynical, like "God, I don't know if you are there right now, but...") really resonated with them. I was only being honest and at times forcing myself to relay images and thoughts that I did not entirely trust myself. At one point, someone told me that they really felt like I had a "gift for prophecy" or something like that.

Then I have heard the pastors at our church talk about how you have to "practice" hearing God. Like you just say whatever you feel him telling you and some of it will be true and some of it won't. Supposedly, this practice will be fine-tuned until you are eventually relaying information that is mostly from God. I know people are not perfect and that there are even examples of Jesus redoing miraculous stuff in the Bible, but this just makes me uneasy. I feel like the same stuff could be said of fortune-telling. In fact, I feel like I could use my current skills and be a fabulous mystic. It doesn't feel very Christian or spiritual. I am perhaps just good at associating universal symbols with my interpretations of what is going on and then reading people's body language and stories enough to be perceptive. Is this the "Holy Spirit moving"? It feels pretty far-fetched to me. But at our church, anything goes. I feel so alone. Does nobody else feel like it's all fishy?

On the other hand, I am really, really, really ready to just believe in Jesus again, even if he is not real.

Eternity in their hearts?

I am feeling like life isn't worth being that disappointed about because it doesn't have the potential to be that great anyway. It is one of the more depressing thoughts I have ever had. Even if I was living on a perfect beautiful island in the middle of the Andaman Sea with just the right amount of civilization and the perfect hedonistic life, I would still be unfulfilled. After imagining that perfect place it is hard to imagine not being content, but I am convinced that even that life would be disappointing. People would die and let me down, the environment would change, I would never be sure what I was meant to do with my life, I would fantasize that I would be happier if I had or did not have children or a husband (depending on which I had), and I would age and lose my mind and body.

"From dust we came and to dust we shall return." That's what that means, right? And, "the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." That's what the Bible says...

Despite all signs to the contrary, I really don't think I am depressed right now either. I am just feeling like life is futile and our expectations of meaning and joy are worthless, only causing pain. Instead of trying to fulfill dreams or accomplish goals we need to simply seek out happiness in each moment, as much as that is possible. I am losing faith that helping others is even meaningful, even though that is all I have wanted to do: "to help the poor." In many ways, I think the best we can hope to do in our lives is to share love with the people around us, to seek truth for ourselves, and to peacefully let others believe what they choose and to encourage them on their own journeys.

I don't know why we need salvation, especially if it is simply for the purpose of avoiding hell. However, after you realize the fact that life is never going to fulfill all your dreams, there is a temptation to start living purely for the uncertain afterlife. The Vineyard and other similar church denominations is passionate about the idea that God wants his kingdom to exist on earth now, and I don't know how this fits in. I, for one, don't see how this earth can be God's kingdom, at least many of the urban places I have lived, like here in Chicago. There is no way to keep people from getting sick and dying or from losing all hope. How can God's kingdom be here?

Wheat and chaff

I have not been doing well at the praying end of this plan--though I have been blogging everyday, I have not been praying to God for at least five minutes in order to plead with him to give me clarity and faith, if possible. I worry that if I were doing that part of this plan it would actually be working--my faith would be increasing, and I would be regaining the fervor and love I once felt for Christ and my beliefs.

As it is, I am finding myself farther and farther away from where I was a year ago and closer, in a more specific way, to the place I have felt myself moving for some time. Still, the challenge is separating God from the stark truths of Christianity from Christian culture from my church itself. I can believe and support all of these different entities or I can choose to leave all of them behind. I think it is already clear that I want to say nos vemos to Christian culture as it is, since Christians, as Gandhi so aptly expressed, do not convey the message of Christ.

On the other hand, I love Jesus. I think that the portrayal of him in the Bible is incredible, and I really want to hold on to him and have him be my God. It is the God of the Old Testament that is hard to trust or even want to be associated with--a God who was violently aggressive about his "chosen people," commanding the deaths and torture of thousands of people and randomly choosing a family line to make his inheritors of the world. It doesn't make any sense to me.

Got to go. More later.

Homeward bound

It's difficult to care about your faith, much less blogging, when you are trying to take care of a nauseated, vomiting three-year-old who is periodically waking up the screaming 10-month-old sharing the room with her because of her sickness, especially knowing that you are about to spend the night sleeping--if that activity is able to occur--in that same room, before attempting an eleven hour car trip. In general, I think it is hard to care about God at all during this stage in my life. Having to take care of two kids full time with absolutely no peaceful time to myself makes it really hard to be serious about anything. Maybe that is the problem. Maybe this doubt really is just a phase.

I wanted to add to yesterday's blog, however, that I have also realized that I don't want to end my life as my grandfather is ending his--with a crazy, obnoxious spouse, only two children (out of four) who actually care enough to travel to say goodbye to him, a single, solitary friend who actually speaks his native language, and no beauty around him. He has had an incredibly successful life by many standards, but he seems lonely and depressed and inward right now. I keep wondering what he is thinking about. Is he thinking about his beloved baby daughter who has not visited in almost a year and may not even attend his funeral, is he thinking about how much he wishes he could have seen his homeland one last time, is he thinking about his bizarre marriage of so many decades, is he thinking about all the books he has written, or is he just wondering if heaven really exists, as he has been so sure it has his whole adult life? I don't know, and he really won't tell us.

Today I said goodbye to him, and tomorrow I will drive eleven hours north to my home where my husband is waiting for me and my daughters. I will probably never see my grandfather alive again, but I have never felt any real emotional connection to him. In fact, I have probably felt more tenderness from him during his few, confused, waking moments in the past ten days, vicariously through my young daughters, than I have ever felt in my life previously. I am actually very sad to see him go and feel more love and affection for him than ever before. It is confusing.

Improbable peace

Today I went to my parents' church with them for the first time in probably three years. It is the church I attended in high school, and it pretty much represents most of the things I can't stand about church. I could never tell this to my parents, however, because I can't imagine hurting them like that. The physical church building is gargantuan; it is costing so much money to build the structure itself that they have run out of funds and are meeting in the huge gymnasium. It was built on a huge piece of undeveloped natural land where coyotes used to live and was formerly a protected wetland. And then I just get annoyed with the kind of music they play, the way people act, the Israel-worship, the absolute lack of racial diversity, and the content of sermons. Basically, I shouldn't go there because I just think negative thoughts the whole time.

But I am starting to think that maybe it doesn't matter what I think. Maybe it's fine that I don't believe or agree with what my friends and family believe, but they don't need to know that I don't agree. What does it matter anyway? The only one it really affects is me, and I am okay with that. I feel like I am a person capable of loving people a lot, and I am curious if not believing what others believe will change my ability to love, but I kind of doubt it. I think this is my problem-all of the things Christianity seems to offer can be found other ways. For example, I can have peace in the middle of stress by trusting that I can only do things to the best of my ability and leave the rest up to fate, because it is out of my control (much like Christians are told to their best and God will do the rest). And I still feel a great motivation to love others and take care of the poor and needy, because I believe those things are important, whether God told us to do them or not. I guess hope is difficult, because I don't know what to hope for. I guess I can hope that the world will become a better place for my children and children's children and work to actually bring about that change I hope for (liking bringing God's kingdom to earth).

I wonder, then, why I am heartbroken when I imagine telling my three-year-old daughter that though I have told her all about Jesus, I don't believe in him myself--that he doesn't really exist. Unfortunately (or fortunately, perhaps), I doubt she would even believe me that he isn't real at this point. But I don't think that is her being sad that I don't believe in him that makes me sad; it is the fact that she wouldn't have Jesus to believe in for herself. This seems to suggest that I do value, in some way, the fact that I have felt like I knew Jesus and had him in my life since childhood. In fact, I think that the issue of how to raise my children without all of my religious/spiritual issues is why I am having so much trouble with my faith in the first place.

At least in terms of my daughters, I need to just be really honest with them. I think I need to talk about Jesus like he is real and present and able to answer our prayers, but that I need to explain that we don't necessarily have proof that he exists. And more importantly, I need to ensure that they don't get loaded down with all the baggage that comes with Christianity, particularly the guilt and people-pleasing self-denial. I need to instill in them the most important values--the love and generosity--while keeping them from the temptation of legalism. At least that's how I feel today.

The other thing I am realizing is that Christianity doesn't seem to help you out that much, and I am not speaking in terms of money or friends or education or success. And I am not talking about getting to heaven, because I really don't know about that anyway. I am talking in terms of basic contentment and happiness--joy and peace. A person's own ability to manage their emotions and practice self-discipline seems to have a way bigger influence on one's outlook on life. Look at my grandmother versus Fabio, my favorite contestant on the last season of Top Chef. My grandmother thinks being a Christian is absolutely the most important thing in the world, but she is the most miserable, stressed out person I know, has been hospitalized because of a nervous breakdown, feels endlessly sorry for herself, and will most likely die from too much anxiety. Then there is Fabio (okay, obviously I don't really know him, but I feel like he represents other people I have known or do know, like my brother), who sees the good in everything. NOTHING brings him down; in fact, he makes everyone around him happier. He just has the very best attitude about life I have ever seen. I can't tell you if Fabio is just blessed by luck, genetics, a good chemical balance, or pure self-control, but I can tell you that I would choose his life over my grandmother's life every single time. Even if it meant "not being a Christian" and potentially "going to hell." Writing that scares me that I just condemned myself to hell, but I really and truly don't want to believe in Jesus and be a Christian just to avoid hell, because if that is what this faith is about, it is not worth anything.

By the way, God, if you are there, it is about time you intervene and provide some clarity. And I think I do still believe you are there. I don't know if I am capable of believing you aren't.

Hearing voices

1 Kings 19:11-13

The Lord said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by."

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

Then a voice said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"


I really don't know where this blog is going. On the one hand, if God exists, I am doing something really offensive and possibly even leading other people away from him with my horrible thoughts. If he doesn't, I still could be dissuading people from something that provides them a base of faith, while still not getting anywhere better personally. Because if I don't believe in God, I really don't know what other options I have.

Oh man, this is getting more and more difficult. Now I feel horrible guilt for doing this on top of everything else, when I actually thought it would help me resolve all my issues and finally draw near God again, whom I have felt great love for in the past.

Tonight I prayed that God would reveal himself to me if he (or she, I suppose) is real. I hate doing that, because it feels incredibly pompous and self-important of me. Why should he reveal himself to me anyway? How am I such a jerk or moron that I need that? And aren't there more important things for him to be doing, if he is real? Why should he pay attention to my prideful lack of belief that I am trying to capitalize on by writing this public blog? I don't know. We'll see what happens, though. And didn't Jesus say not to test him? Ahhh, this is going to drive me crazy. I thought by doing this I would quickly and automatically return to the comfortable faith I have always known.

Jesus, if you are real, forgive me for my disbelief and blasphemy, and help me to believe.

And then I remember all the contradictions...


Mark 9:24

Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"


But on the other hand, there is this...


Micah 3:4...

Then they will cry out to the LORD, but he will not answer them. At that time he will hide his face from them because of the evil they have done.


And of course...


Matthew 7:7

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.


And...


Psalm 46:10

Be still, and know that I am God.


I put that first segment of verses from 1 Kings up for no good reason, other than that I have always loved that idea of God showing up in a whisper, after all the dramatics had come and gone. That's the God I want to believe in. But I don't even know if I want to believe the God of the Bible, which I have been force-fed my whole life, and obviously defer to simply because it is stuck in my brain.

I want to put up a youtube clip that I keep thinking about, even though it doesn't seem to fit in with this post. But I am really trying to make this blog a purging of all my crazy thoughts rather than something solid and cohesive, so here goes:

WTF dude, WTF

Today I got to hear someone pretty much say that Obama is the antichrist. He mentioned seeing a newspaper he had read with the headline, "Obama: President of the World", which, in his mind, sealed the deal. And of course, this man is a friend of my family and a "good Christian." I don't want this blog to be a place for me to bash Christians, but it is really hard to feel passionate or even sympathetic towards a cultural faith that is tied to bigotry, segregation, and hate.

Clearly, other religions have sects that are also hateful, racist, and sexist. And obviously, the argument is, yet again, that I can't throw the baby out with the bath water. If I indeed believe in God and in Jesus, my work still isn't done. I need to figure out exactly what I believe about God and Jesus. I don't want to automatically join the ranks of protestant Christians seeking to evangelize the world. I just really don't know where I fit in.

I definitely don't belong in the sort of Christianity I was raised in, where everyone is a Republican, anyone who is not pro-life is a murderer, and everyone talks about God's call on their life all the time. On the other hand, I don't feel that comfortable in the church I currently attend, where any sort of intuitive perception anyone has about anyone else is interpreted as a word from God, members are encouraged to stand up and say or sing whatever they want at any moment, no matter how unfounded or disturbing, and minor physical changes are announced to be miraculous, stunning demonstrations of God answering our request for healing. I think I would most likely fit in in a Mennonite church, like the one I went to in college. It was pacifist and loving and simple and holistic.

What do I believe then? What are my faith values, I guess? I believe that it is our responsibility to take care of the beautiful planet God put us on (assuming God exists and he put us here). I believe we are supposed to love everyone, even people that are practically unlovable (like the guy who thinks Obama is the anti-christ). If God exists, I believe he does talk to people, perhaps in loud spoken word, but more likely, in everyday occurrences. I believe that God usually uses nature, biology, and humans to perform miracles, as opposed to big showy demonstrations. In fact, I have never heard of a big showy demonstrative sort of miracle that I could not somehow rationally explain. Okay, this is really going to offend people, but I really think God would be more a fan of Democratic ideals than Republican ones--not that he would necessarily want "big government" but that he would think it was important to share wealth and support the less fortunate, even if they are lazy, as some people think. I believe that Jesus, if he existed, was a "man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." I don't know what the @#$% I think about the God of the Old Testament who killed huge amounts of people willy nilly. Actually, therein lies the age old problem. Why does God let babies die in buckets of their mother's vomit? What kind of @#$%ed-up universe is that? How do you move past @#$% like that?

Maybe that is the hardest thing for me. Injustice. How do we trust a supposedly just God who overlooks injustice? I know there are some crazy explanations people have for this stuff, but I do not think it possibly makes sense in my mind.

Mysteries

I am reading The Brothers K by David James Duncan which is the perfect book to be reading when you have grown up in an uber-Christian home but don't know what you think about it all. There was a great line in the part I read today: "Work out your own salvation in fear and trembling," which I can only assume is something from the Bible that I don't quite remember. I just googled it, and it is from Philippians 2:12. So there you go. Some encouragement straight from God himself to ask the questions you need to ask. So that is what I am going to try to do.

Today we visited my grandfather. He has been moved out from one of the local hospital's hospice units and back to the assisted living facility where he was housed before he became critically ill. Yesterday he slept the entire day and was entirely unresponsive, but today, after we awakened him, he was fully responsive. He smiled, kissed, and put his arm around my daughter. And she treated him with more lovingly and tenderly than I have ever seen her treat anyone or anything. She--a three-and-a-half-year-old, fed her great-grandfather jello spoonful by spoonful. And she understands that he is getting better. And after spending endless hours in his tiny, boring, undecorated room without any toys, she wants to stay on with him and not to go home. It is truly incredible.

So I am going to need to start dealing with and writing about these spiritual questions I have been encountering, and I think I need to attempt to summarize my faith thus far in order to make headway. I grew up in a very conservative Christian denomination. My parents and the other Christians I knew were passionate about their faith and determined to share it, but they were legalistic about many things (particularly activities like drinking, smoking, swearing, etc.) and did not look favorably on the more charismatic methods of expressing Christianity.

I now go to a church where the supernatural is highly emphasized. The congregation is convinced that God is moving among us, but all I can tell is that these people are definitely having powerful emotional and psychological experiences. This all came to a head when I thought I heard angels singing at a church service about six weeks ago.

Mortality

So I determined to start this blog today, since it is, in fact, Ash Wednesday, in order to figure out what I think about God, who seems extremely distant. I don't have much to say at the moment since I have waited until the very last half-hour of Ash Wednesday possible to begin writing, and I am now entirely ready for bed, but I will give a brief outline of what I intend to do here.

I grew up in a conservative Christian Evangelical household. My parents were missionaries for fifteen years of my childhood. I went to a Christian college. I married a Christian. I have two small children. I now go to a charismatic Christian church... and I am beginning to realize slowly but surely that my entire conception of Christ and God could be socially and psychologically constructed. It may be surprising that I have not been forced to process this concept before now, but when you are taught from your earliest memories to believe in Jesus, you just don't question it. Perhaps the real reason I am questioning it now is because I am realizing that I have already begun the same process in my own children. My three-year-old daughter believes that Jesus exists. Just last week I overheard her yelling angrily at him for not helping her go potty.

For these reasons, I decided I really need to figure out what I think before she gets much older. Like I need to start now.

Adding to my Lenten experience is the fact that my grandfather is in the hospital dying. He is the first of my or my husband's grandparents to begin this process, and it is a bizarre experience, especially in the company of a curious three-year-old. It is forcing me to examine my life, my marriage, and what I value. For example, I am realizing that I do not want my marriage to look anything like my grandparents' in 55 years. It looks awful.

You can also imagine that watching my grandfather die is reinforcing my awareness of human mortality, which is what we heard about at the Ash Wednesday service I attended with my sister this morning. We are dust, and to dust we shall return.