What a difference a few months makes…

Wow… Didn’t realize I haven’t written since April. How time flies… How things change…
Time to come back, methinks.

And so soon…

Affirming Ministry Celebration – AARGH.

After such a beautiful day, I am pissed.

A church in my hometown had an Affirming Ministry Celebration today. What does this mean? This means that a United Church of Canada congregation commits itself to becoming a welcoming and inclusive congregation in regards to bisexual, lesbians, gay men and transgendered people. The second part of this is to work, encourage, educate and support this directive to that end.

So what has me so angry?

I was speaking with an elderly friend today who expressed upset over this celebration. A conversation ensued to which she stated her beliefs and I, mine. In the end, it seems homosexual folk do not really bother her to any great extent (though to which extent is still under discussion) but that she just doesn’t feel a homosexual couple should be wed in God’s church for she doesn’t think God intended a homosexual union under God. However, she felt a minister should have the right to choose to marry them elsewhere. She admitted she just isn’t very broad minded.

I told her that I must be even less broadminded and in fact, very small minded for I didn’t even get to the marriage question. I told her that I figured since homosexual folk are in God’s world, welcomed into this world by God (or whatever Spirit we each hold dear,) created by the Spirit, just as heterosexuals are, that it never occurred to me to question something so minuscule a thought as the marriage of a member of this beloved flock. For doesn’t the fact the Spirit’s flock is purposefully diverse, chosen by God, wipe out the need for the second question?

So again, why am I angry?

I am pissed not because this woman holds values that differ from mine. I am not upset that she voices her opinion. I am not even upset that she truly doesn’t understand that an affirming church is much more than where a couple is married. I am upset because she mentioned that someone who “had” to attend this ceremony stated she didn’t really want to go and certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. I am upset because this is the same person who told me she was disappointed in the turn out because “how could one not support this within their own congregation?” she stated incredulously.

That would be why I am angry.

I suppose if I were to broach the subject with this woman that I would hear the recurring theme of, “Well, you know one can’t change the mind of someone from that era so I just went along with her,” or “You know her views.”

Well, to that I would have to say, “Yes, I know her views because she states them and stands behind them. That is precisely why I know her views whether I agree or not.” It is the sand vs. rock views of others, like this second woman, that worry me.

Today, the minister spoke of endurance and how it is folks who stand in the face of persecution who endure for the greater good who change the world. I submit that it is also folks like my elderly friend who help to change the world for their antiquated views are where we must seek to both accept and enlighten.

It is in neither endurance nor persecution that I worry about our world. It is the in-between where two steps forward can quietly and inexplicably become two steps back.

I know I will be okay

The intro to this blog says it all. I know now I will be okay.

After having moved recently, I started the arduous journey of finding a new church home. Yesterday, weeks after this search began, I walked out of a church after a reflective Saturday service and smiled – knowing I would be okay.

It was the first church I walked into upon arrival in town – only to waste some time on lunch – with no intent of making it my regular Sunday sojourn. It was downtown. There was no parking. There was no need. Surely with its male minister, there was a patriarchal bent?

But I must admit that on the surface, it was love at first sight – with its Celtic crosses, with its meditative music reflection, but nope. I’m NOT doing downtown and I need to shop for a church. Still, I attended a few of this church’s functions but never on Sundays. I found the minister to be someone who, like my last minister, doesn’t let you just sit in the pew and stew, waiting for the clock to catch up to your mindset. So finally, after being a lost sheep for weeks, I decided yesterday, that I would attend proper Sunday services at this church I first intuited “fit.”

I arrived and sat in the antiquated back pew – this church being the first foundation of a church in my denomination. I chose the back pew not to bow out but just so as not to join in. That is how I do life. The problem is that though my heart is a back row kind of heart, my brain is a first row kind of mind. I want to breathe in all that is going on and it’s hard to do from the back pew.

I saw an older lady I recognized but did not look in her direction as I rarely assume folks recognize me back. She circled around the back of the church and was gone. Within seconds however, a hand came over the back of the pew and a warm voice welcomed me with, “Well, hello. I’ve been waiting for you.” This is the same voice which told me previously, “Don’t go away so long that I forget what you look like.”

This concerned yet non-intrusive comment was a large part of the reason I decided to choose this church as the physical building to house my spiritual self. Or at the very least, try this Sunday service. I wasn’t certain I believed her “I’ve been waiting for you,” statement but realized it was true as she painfully lumbered to a back room immediately afterwards. I felt good.

As the music began, I realized it was organ music. I realized the hymns were OLD. I began to panic! What did I commit to? I am not the kind to ever back out of a commitment so there I sat fretting. I looked around at the congregation. It was small. It wasn’t particularly varied across age groups. What if the feeling I had yesterday will all but dissolve while sitting in a puddle of archaic mantra? Though I knew the words of the minister’s sermons worked for me (from past readings of them) I needed the music to speak to me in equal measure. A friend of mine says it is through the music she finds the Spirit. I have come to realize I have need for both and it was starting to look as though I could not have my cake and eat it too.

Sadness started to seep in as another lady I recognized stepped up to the pulpit for an announcement. She started talking to the children in the front pew and asked for their help. She revved up her voice and started calling each by name and to my surprise, she purposefully called clear across the church to the very back row where I was seated and said my name as well – the only 35-year old I’m sure who has ever been included when seeking help from the children! I began to feel great and yet it also deepened my sense of sadness in knowing that though I would surely stay based on these two interactions only but would pay the very steep price in terms of music.

And then, it happened. A song which was not included in the Saturday’s service of reflection boomed out from the choir loft. The chorus came and even men, lone men in the congregation started a “not the first time we’ve done this” clap, leaning down to sing to children by their side. By the end of the song, I didn’t know whether my chest was going to burst with exultation or whether my eyes would explode first with tears of joy. It was the first time I’ve ever been enveloped in that moving of a church moment; perhaps born out of my current “sheep situation” but I didn’t think so. I was wholly moved to collapse.

Having had some exposure to the choir director, I shouldn’t have worried so much. I think I was hurting so badly spiritually and gone through so much tough stuff since moving to this new town, that I finally had pinned my hopes on this day and this church and these people. I hadn’t had a “real” sermon since a Lenten luncheon weeks back and I think it was taking its toll on me without my knowing. Thankfully, my fears were unfounded.

After an anthem which also didn’t make Saturday’s shortened service, the sermon began. Again, I was surprised. I had yet to be disappointed by the minister with his subdued method of “Think about it” kind of delivery, but he certainly changes it up for Sunday. Out of what I perceived was a quiet, reflective man, boomed a sermon which almost made me quit missing my past minister’s sermons. Almost. Plus, the sermon started out discussing the Olympics (not the Tibet discussion but the endurance of tenacious Olympians) and I like anyone who can bring that into play.

Could it get any better? Yes. There was a drama which revolved around one of the readings and I laughed heartily. The choir director also spoke to me by name as I made my way to coffee time and eventually I was surrounded by folk – not one of which inquired as to which of my “gifts” could help out the church. Not one of which asked of my private life or my past. “No gossip” was the order of the day. And finally, the same lady who welcomed me to the church came and took me by the hand to meet the Minister of Faith Formation who had earlier done Youth Time during the service – a minister who made each child feel important during her talk. This I liked immensely as I’ve come to learn that when one is as impressionable as young children are, every moment matters.

She spoke to me intently and though not displaying overt leadership qualities (though they were definitely present) everything about her was perfect. She was youngish, articulate, empathetic and had a quality which inferred that we were all in this together and there was a future here – within these walls.

If this sounds like a review of a religious institution, I apologize. It is merely the mumblings of a happy heart, a euphoric seeker, who was lost and needing a home. Today, it seems I’ve found one.

The Bible’s Relevance (or Irrelevance?)

I’ve been struggling with a question about the validity of the Bible. For example, many interpret Pilate to be innocent in Jesus’ persecution but then this thought process is turned on its head when I read my minister’s view. “Of course, Pilate washed his hands of Jesus!” says he (loosely quoted.) “What was his alternative? Stand up to empire? Who in today’s society wouldn’t wash their hands of Jesus and go along with the crowd?” Only one other sermon has turned such sensibility on its head as severely as the first and that was the skewing of the “Good Samaritan” ideal. Another sermon where the switch up, saved me for I was living as the man in the ditch for a good long period.

Are these interpretations correct? The answer lies in the word “interpretation.” So there is no right or wrong answer, is there? But kudos to the ministers who take on the accepted and unchallenged “norm” and challenge us and presumably moreso, themselves. Of course, they will be tossed out on their asses at some point but hopefully, it will have been worth it.

But here is my point, this “minister is leader of a church” idea and “the Bible can be interpreted many ways” leads one to question A: the minister B: the interpretation C: neither or D: both. In my case, I have (like most of us) gone with the interpretation I’ve wanted to hear but it doesn’t mean I was right to do so. It just means I belong to the larger “life congregation” at present time who doesn’t like to work too hard at discomfort and instead, prefers minimal upset to the routine.

Yet, this practice bothered me greatly and continually. But in reading a book recently, the question of the Bible came up and the author chalked it up to: the Bible is relevant because God ensured that it made its way into our hands as it is.

Yes – it is an industry unto itself and written by man but it, like you and me, are here through the Spirit. Sure, there are supposedly books missing but aren’t they missing for a reason? Do we lend ourselves to the belief that for centuries, a conspiracy has been successfully carried out to keep say, the Book of Judas from us? Or maybe even an undiscovered Book of Feminism??! Or can we rely on the fact that God’s Word navigated thousands of years and millions of hands to still manage to sit on my shelf with prominence, albeit among its various competitive and interpretive versions?

I may entertain the former with gladness (only to keep my fellow man on his toes) but I am finally content to accept the latter and with assuredness say, so be it.

God sure did good work in Nova Scotia

I took a drive down around rural Nova Scotia on the weekend, along the Eastern Shore. As it’s not even May yet, no deciduous vegetation shone green to light the way. But still, my chest puffed up with contentment and I could not help but think, “Boy, God sure did good work in Nova Scotia.”

Forget the doubts, the rationale needed by “evolution only” folk. Forget it all. Take a trip to Nova Scotia’s countryside, oceanside, harbourside. Or its cities. Even a drive down into the capital holds wonders.

Just look at the hand that holds the steering wheel as it navigates through God’s country. To quote, it is “fearfully and wonderfully made,” then doubt no more.

Praying in Cars

Yesterday, I sat in a restaurant, sipping a coffee and looking out a window.

I saw something happening in a car which felt vaguely familiar to me yet at the same time, completely foreign. A couple was saying grace.

It was a phenomenal thing to witness. Without audio, there was a vibrant story. From a distance and without words, a palpable connection was in existence both between this couple and moreso with the Spirit. To grace prior to turning the key, hitting the road and gulping down a Coke might seem silly to some but the energy of faith coming out of that car was intrinsic. You could tell it was a partnership – both human and divine – born of many years.

And there I sat, the beneficiary of seeing God’s grace.

God Rush

I recently had the good fortune to speak with someone who said that God talked to her. I am glad to know that: #1 – I am not the only crackpot in the area and #2 – that I am back…

Indeed the delay in feeling all-things (or anything!) spiritual has passed. A man-made dilemma of the past few months for me but seemingly on its way out.

We agreed our butts needed to scrape bottom of the barrel for this unparalleled event to occur and never could there be a greater expression of warmth or peace available to wash over us. Perhaps sadly, never to be again.

But not a feeling which can be forgotten. An uneraseable moment where we don’t forget the face over time, we don’t grope for light in the darkness, we don’t stutter for the right words or stumble over a crack not there… It’s all palpable; ready to be pulled back from the recesses of memory as though it occurred within the last second of time, as though it is the only thing sitting quietly in one’s soul.

2 Corinthians 7-15 (NIV)

7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11 For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. 12 So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

13 It is written: “I believed; therefore I have spoken.”[b]With that same spirit of faith we also believe and therefore speak, 14 because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you in his presence. 15 All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.

16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Reaffirmation

Ok – I just re-read that last blog post and I am thinking that I still agree with it. Although I have to admit that I am starting to regain a tiny little bit of my soul and we’ll see where it goes.

Who knows?

What goes around…

Prior to my grandmother’s death, I was chock full of “what goes around comes around” vim and vigor. Upon her death, I scoffed at such a notion. I scoff today. She died without being rewarded for her hardships. No thanks. No mercy. No nothin’.

I think “Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease” is a more apt description of the world today.

Why people just can’t tell you what they mean vs. what they say is beyond me. Is our world so much now about getting the other guy first or screwing someone before they screw you that we as a people have been reduced to a bunch of me-wants who keep all their thoughts/actions hidden in favour of self first?

Where spirituality, grace and faith fits into this world is beyond me. I give up.

Just needing a pick me up…

‘Fear not I am with you, I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand……..For I am the Lord your God, who upholds your right hand, who says to you, ‘Do not fear, I will help you.’

Isaiah 41:13

Spirituality on hold

I never thought I’d say this – especially after my previous post but I think it’s time to hang up my spiritual hat for a while.

Is the faith journey supposed to hurt this badly?

A new type of “home”

Last spring I wrote an entry detailing how the United Church of Canada had become a home for me. My how things have changed over the course of a very interesting year. After a talk yesterday which prompted me to revisit that post, I realized though the United Church is definitely my home, its furnishings have changed in my heart.

Upon being confirmed, I didn’t realize I was personifying inanimate objects and animating “person objects!” I was giving worth to a building, a pew, a pulpit and a people (as a whole) and in most cases rightly so. However, I know now that though church anchors me, I don’t need the physical building and heaven forbid if worse came to worse, I also could begrudingly let go of a few people.

Don’t get me wrong for I truly believe it is in spiritual relationship with others that our faith is the strongest. As noted in Genesis, God wants us in relationship – both with God and others. Can we be Christians in isolation? To me, the answer lies in the ministry of Jesus. How would Jesus’ ministry have been different had he walked alone? How would anyone’s ministry be different if they walk alone? Yes, I don’t think we even wish to put energy in that direction.

What I am referring to is a change which is occuring within me. It is about faith getting stronger or more independent in all ways. I have noticed that in times of angst, joy or seeking, the main furnishing I need is an open heart and an open Bible. In the absence of fellowship and like-mindedness, I’ve found that God’s Word alone can sustain true faith in my heart.

I had a point this past year where I couldn’t physically attend church. I was at a loss each Sunday and continued to be until I had opportunity to touch base with a fellow congregant so that I could “pretend” to be part of the process. It more or less assuaged itself in my mind but not in my heart.

So I relied on the Bible not realizing the transformation which was about to occur. I had always been a devout chatterer to God but listening back through God’s Word was something I must have thought was somehow linked to duty. Not once, did I realize that the feedback I had so long been looking for was fully realized through such readings.

In this time of isolation, I found peace and prose, parable, prophet and much, much more. I had an inner calm, an actual physical wave of peace came over me, like I had only had once before in my life. It came in a rush, never wavered and though things are getting much tougher on this faith journey, praying to God and reading the Word sustains me wholly – until such time I can find my way back into the flock.

Even now, should I have no one to turn to, when the Pastor’s not present, when the Church is closed, when I’ve already talked God’s ear off, I come home to the Bible.

I guess I’ve learned that the church provides a way to be in like-minded company but at the end of the day, God is truly the company I like.

The Faith Club

Tonight I had the privilege of hearing a talk by three women of different faiths, all co-authors of The Faith Club.

Held at the University of Windsor, these women discussed the “club” which revolved around having the courage to question, seek, and resolve misconceptions, concerns and fears regarding what started out as a bid to clarify the Islam faith (perceived as vilified) in the days following 9/11. It ended up being much, much more.

Post 9/11, Ranya became concerned for her children, the only two Muslims in their class. A devout Muslim, she made the painful decision that unless that faith meant something to her children, they did not need to follow its doctrine for she began to wonder if the price was too high. Instead, she (a political sciences major) set out on a journey to write a children’s story which would help make sense of the Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) and clarify them for her children. She invited Suzanne, a Christian and Priscilla, a Jew – both strangers – in a bid to understand more fully, not realizing how it would play itself out. These meetings became the foundation of the book – no longer a children’s book once the power of transformation was realized. The one rule of the group’s gatherings (loosely quoted) was “Don’t edit the language. Enlighten the thoughts.”

Enlightenment certainly took place tonight. Interestingly enough, the individual who had the biggest bridge to cross was Priscilla, the Jew. In Christianity, Jesus is the God who is human and the human who is God (my words – don’t blame them.) In Islam religion, Jesus is a much revered prophet but to Priscilla, Jesus was a divider. During a stay at a motel, she told Ranya that she had taken a cross of Jesus down which had been hanging over her bed because she “didn’t want to sleep under a dead man on a cross who meant nothing to her.”

Ranya’s comment? “Well, he must have meant something,” she replied, “or you wouldn’t have taken it down.” And so it goes. Well-versed protagonists all, they found themselves in a Muhammad vs. Jesus vs. Moses scenario and we, the readers are the ones to benefit.

The gathering at the university, a Windsor Women’s Interfaith Initiative, was as diverse as The Faith Club members. Age, religion, gender and nationality was varied and again, we the audience reaped the blessings. The night ended with a comment offered to the authors regarding the Q&A which seemed to be a little lacklustre in questioning voices. The explanation offered was that one didn’t want to intrude on the palpable spirit of unity which was a direct result of the uplifting and unifying message we all had shared.

In hearing this comment, the whisper of three hundred hearts agreed.

A Grace

God of abundance
Creator of LIFE
We thank you today for this bounty
Which sustains the body
And nourishes the soul.
It is only through you being Source of All,
That our table is laid
And our relationships prosperous.

May we in turn, give forth,
All that we have been given
By your grace.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

Like-minded Spirituality

The hunger for spirituality is turning me inward to a place that is not entirely safe, being that I have few there to anchor me. And I wonder is it possible though our spirituality should come from within, that without physical world like-mindedness, it is diluted in its potential and reward?

I have gone from being able to spend time with anyone who would have me to wanting only to frequent the company of the like-minded; preferably service-minded in fact. I am not implying condescension of my taste pallette in friends. I just don’t find such encounters to be satiating on many levels anymore. I never did but my tolerance level was much higher.

I do not discuss spirituality ad nauseum should I find a sympathetic ear. It is not that. It can be in the “silent knowing” and subsequent feeling of comfort that finds me feeling safe in reciprocal kinship. But how does one attain this level of nourishment before they succumb to physical isolation or spiritual disappointment?

Of those I am close with, one friend would go for my jugular should any spiritual talk ensue. Even worse, she will offer up out-of-the-blue disgust at times. Additionally, the only God-related book she has proudly shown me of late is one entitled closely to “God Doesn’t Exist.”

Another friend allows me ample discussion and spiritual nourishment but it is infused with fundamentalist opinion which reminds of the fact I am trying to become a better Christian – not one so full of judgment and spite. Along the same lines, a third friend is a little more elderly and as such, her prejudices are antiquated so who would argue with a 90-year old on things she was taught 85 years ago?

Another contact has told me that my faith simply isn’t strong enough; that I “obviously have no faith” during a discussion regarding money in times of hardship. Finally, a dear friend of mine who teaches me stewardship and worship through living, neglects to take into consideration a fair and equitable God. In her world, justice has no place. As such, I see an imbalance in the haves and have not’s. I’m sure God did not intend for a world without justice.

Luckily, I have a 6th friend who anchors all of this for me but to continue to expect such, is far too much of a burden to put on her. I already bend her ear beyond what I believe to be normal. My yearning has reached the point of wanting to attend five churches just to find enough people to be in the company of like-mindedness with.

I cannot explain it further than that other than to say it is truly an internal need, not an external want. Though I am able to sustain my spirituality through encounters with God and church, I know there is a way to satisfy this new need. I just don’t know when or where that answer will come from but I am hoping it is soon.

God, do you hear me?

I’ve been having a tough week. No biggie. Just is. What I don’t get about it is that when things get as desolate as they seem to, there are only two ways out. One is read God’s word and the other is to pray. Well, that or a good bottle of shiraz.

Yesterday, while driving down the road, I became rather melancholy. Driving tends to do that to me. So I do what I do whenever that happens. I talk to God. On occasion, I would call my pastor but only should I need physical world feedback for God is never absent.

The thing that concerns me about talking to God is lack of feedback. Don’t get me wrong. I always feel better afterwards. I always feel comforted. I always know God is there and I know in some way, whether comprehensible or not, God answers.

But here’s the thing I realized yesterday. I really NEED for God to hear me. As a kid I’m sure that everyone (not myself but others) was told that “God hears every prayer.” But how? If you think about the billions of people, animals, factories and such, how could anyone hear anything? I know… To God, all that is merely a whisper.

For some reason, I want to know that when I pour my heart out God is there. Sure, it’s extreme self-absorption. I don’t understand “the why” of it for I do not doubt God is there. I just seem to need God so badly at times.

As a side note, if you’re thinking, “Well, if you’re whining to God who would want to listen anyways?!!” I never talk to God in that way. I may have wailed a time or two in my life – a “fall down on your knees”, deep guttural plea of agony – but beyond that, I have never been more joyous, thankful and blessed as when I talk to God.

Feedback or not.

Spirit working

Not much to say today… So here comes the inevitable posting I’ve been wanting to explain forever – the name/idea of spirit working… Where does it come from? Doubt anyone cares but I care more than enough for all of you…

spiritworking comes from a feeling I was lucky enough to receive in a rather large dose a few years back and on a regular basis now… It is a euphoric beautiful, feeling that prevails through my life almost daily. If I push it away, it will recede only for so long as I fight it. If I am absent-minded or not welcoming it in, it will still arrive when I least expect it and always when I most need it. But overall, it is always there. I just need to embrace it and when I do, I can simply feel the Spirit working (yes, it always should be interpreted as a capital “S”) in the trees, in the sky, in the people, in the smiles, in the catepillar trying to cross the walk but needing just a little help. Pretty much in everything but mostly in my soul. There is no doubt. There is only gladness.

If you are lucky, if I am lucky, it will be more than a feeling. It will wash over you and embrace you and in an instant, without fail, soften one’s heart and tug away at all the worries within. For me, it is God’s grace of letting go, of giving in, of giving up, of saying, “So be it. I am here and I am ready. Please show me.”

If it doesn’t sound heavenly, I’ve failed you in my words. It is the Spirit that speaks:

‘Fear not I am with you, I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand……..For I am the Lord your God, who upholds your right hand, who says to you, ‘Do not fear, I will help you.’

Isaiah 41:13

Encouragement

Often I’ve wondered how I could make change. Right now (as I am slightly compromised) the best I can do is the little things each day… Words of “Good stuff!” or a pat on the back for one in need of connection. I know this for often that “one” has been me.

Barnabas – Patron Saint of Encouragement… I’m a firm believer in the power of encouragement and support for my life came into being (mostly later in life) based solely on it… But even early on, a few teachers here and there kept me going when there wasn’t always reason to go anywhere – letalone go on…

But of late, one person and many people saved me. I can’t imagine the pompous ass I’d be today if I was given a solid diet of that encouragement my whole life! I lap it up like a thirsty pup on a hot, dry day… It gets me into trouble at times, but that’s a whole other post.

In recent years, my life changed immeasurably based on positive words when I thought I was nothing or the feeling of a friend’s hand on my shoulder during a medical scare. And I will never forget the reciprocal laughter after a teasing mockery of affection… Encouragement can be the start to a change in the world.

Imagine if all the children who are being told they are pieces of dirt or to “Quit crying or I’ll give you more to cry for…” are instead told “Good job. Keep going,” given a hand on the shoulder or simply any hand at all?

To quote Sam Cooke, “What a wonderful world this would be!”

Links to a better life…
Camp Barnabas – Kids being Kids

We don’t do “church”…

This journey began a few years back… I had no idea that church or ministers or parishioners or even a building would become so pivotal in my life… I joked. Heck, I even out and out mocked the notion… Where I come from, it just can’t be… Where I come from, WE don’t do church…

But the long and short of it is that I met people who changed my life…

One brought stability into my world – something I had never had and quite frankly, probably could never have understood until I truly owned it.

Another brought pride of self back to me… I always thought I had pride in my abilities but always walked the road alone. I met someone who allowed me to share an ability or two here and there and it’s grown and is growing as we speak.

Another brought family into my life… So much so, I have yet to find the courage or strength to admit it… Letalone know what to do about it!

A couple others brought love… Lots of love with no strings attached. There is nothing greater or more precious to my heart than that feeling where you know you are loved and that when you pick up the phone to call that person, that you can be quite certain they will not only be happy but excited to hear from you. I don’t know if there are rewards in the giving of that amazing gift… I hope some day to be the type of person who could answer that question. If I continue to keep company with those who offer it so unselfishly to me, then I am quite certain I will be blessed to know the reward of giving it also.

Most importantly though, there has been one or perhaps it is better to say “One” who I have rejoined on the journey and it is in relationship with that One that I am able to fully grasp relationship with all others.

Life of abundance

How to heal a life… Indeed it must be through the Spirit. These past few months, everything broke down. Upon inventory, I realized there was not one area that didn’t need a quick fix or visit with the funeral planner. I may sound melodramatic for what I am going through pales upon scrutiny of real heartache. However, to each their own as it truly takes a “pain-o-meter” of sorts to understand the depth of importance each aspect of our lives takes on.

Obviously at this rate, you are probably anticipating that I am setting up a scene that will state my pain, my job woes, my selfish, egotistical “me, me, me” story… But not so. It is more of a spiritual awakening. I thought I was on the right track but this time the Spirit lifted me up and said, “Wake up and run, don’t walk!” It became obvious I am not living the life my minister referred to a few months back when he ended his sermon with a question VERY loosely quoted as “What can you give up/what is standing between you and a life of abundance?” He repeated it so I repeat it. What IS standing between you and a life of abundance?

As a result, I find I cannot wait a year or even six months. My soul is seeking. A life of abundance perhaps? Not perhaps but hopefully, consciously I run in that direction with lucid thought and God’s wind beneath my wings. Not because I don’t have debt or am lazy, not because I despise authority but simply because the life I want to live, the gifts I want to share, the peace my soul absolutely needs to find is all intertwined with learning how to “let go and let God” and possibly, “let love.”

Home…

For years I knew things worked differently for me but didn’t know why… Was trying to get somewhere but didn’t know how… Didn’t know who could help me… Didn’t anticipate who would hurt me. So I just kept on, struggling and tugging away – learning lots (not all good) but never finding the one thing I knew I needed most – a home…

Yesterday, all that changed. For yesterday, I was confirmed in the United Church of Canada and to quote my Pastor (who unabashedly oozes spirituality in her public role) from an earlier sermon I became John Doe, Christian. Or rather in fact, Jane Doe, Christian. We all have another name (I quote quite loosely) and it is… comma Christian.

I never doubted myself or jumped from this path to that… I just never knew that parts of what I was, had, did or believed had a place they needed to be. It dawns on me now that was all I ever wanted – to be accepted into a place where my soul felt at peace… To know it isn’t going anywhere and that finally I too, can stand strong, build foundation, grow roots and simply stay put – that no one has the right to reach in and threaten to unseat me, to pull the rug from under my feet, to out and out threaten my feeling of stability. Finally, I have a home and it will remain.

Often I would find myself with a tear rolling down my face in the middle of conversation, albeit a stoic front otherwise. But unable to stop the tear or know why or what it was my soul was looking for, I always felt as though I was standing on sand. At first, I thought it was merely a house my soul was needing. What a horrible thing to say, isn’t it? To “house” your soul… But then through seeing the Spirit working in people in the church, through music, through sermon, through fellowship, through God’s word, I truly “owned it.” I knew I found my home. My spiritual home… My spiritual heart…

The United Church helped to open all that up to me and more. Interestingly enough, prior to being confirmed I had the commitment of the congregation shown to me through their kindness, actions and outreach. But it took my committing to them, to “seal the deal” so to speak. It proves to me that I have a long way to go. For my need of paper and promise, exhibits some doubt in my eyes. Why wasn’t the pre-ceremony devotion enough? What does ceremony and certificate prove? I am a person of oaths and loyalties but trust is not a strong point. My guess is that I needed the ceremony far more than it needed me.

Insecurities aside, the feeling I have about the United Church – though not exactly a building, is that it provides security unparallelled and big strong rafters of potential faith (for not all who walk the road actually stop to worship under the roof.) It keeps me going and allows me to know I’m have a home. Yes as before, I could live without it but it is so much easier to live within it.

The journey…

I have started a journey towards healing… This blog is part of that journey… This blog is SOLELY part of the healing… If it were a vain, self-centered, self-involved, egotistical diary of me proudly beating my chest, I would say that… Honestly, I would. Being truthful has rarely scared me.

But it is not that. It’s the fairly recent awakening that sometime, somehow, somewhere – I became lucky enough to be the protagonist in my own soliloquy on how to heal a life…