Tag Archives: spirituality

Creating Meaning from Creation

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Many people believe in a literal interpretation of the Bible’s creation story. There are whole conferences and lectures dedicated to defending this point of view. My position right now is that I don’t care.

Regardless of whether you take the Adam and Eve story literally, the point of the narrative is to create meaning. How would Christianity–or better yet, how would our neighborhoods look different if they embraced some of the significant meaning communicated in this story? How would things be different if we understood that…

  • …we were intended to be at peace with the earth, with plants, animals, and each other. The Garden of Eden was a space where all the creatures lived in a mutually beneficial peaceful existence. Adam was even created from the dust of the earth! Essentially the story communicates that if it weren’t for the earth we could not/would not exist! How different would our world be if we tried to lean into this intended reality?
  • …man and woman cannot be separated. I’m not making an “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” play here. What I am saying is that according to the story woman cannot exist apart from man (it took one of his ribs to make her) and man cannot be complete apart from woman (missing that damn rib). In a world filled with broken relationships would it change anything to know that apart from others we are incomplete? We were not created for isolation or complete individualism! The whole man-woman thing is not at all tied to superiority or control, rather it is about connectedness. We are forever and completely connected to each other.
  • …we are partners with God. God invited the humans to name the animals, he invited them to be a part of the creation process by actually giving the animal kingdom some of its identity. How would things change if we viewed ourselves as partners with God in the continued identity-giving process of life?
  • …not only were we intended to be at peace with the world around us, but originally there was a peace and casual relationship between the creator and his creation. It was normal for Adam and Eve to walk together with God in the dew of the morning! How would life be different if we knew that we were intended to be at peace and in relationship with God?
  • …Adam and Eve were naked…and I’m pretty sure they were dead sexy (though probably a bit freakish looking without a belly button). I don’t think this necessarily invites us all to come to a place where we can all be naked together (though some could argue that). Rather I think this reminds us of our intended innocence. We were intended for purity, innocence, and simplicity (don’t clothes bring heaps of complexity to our lives?!). What would our world look like if we embraced our original calling to simple, pure, and innocent living? Jesus invited his followers to be like children…seems strangely similar.
  • …we are good. God looked at his creation over and over again and mused to himself “wow, this is pretty good!” and regarding you and I he even thought “Wow, this is really ridiculously good!” So often Christians start the story with brokenness and sinfulness but the reality is that the story starts with goodness. How would our world be different if when we looked at people around us we saw (and believed) their inherent goodness. It’s not that we’re all good or that given the opportunity we’ll all make good choices, rather its that our starting place, our origin, or beginning is in perfect goodness…what a better place to find our identity than in our brokenness!
  • …destructive things are only bastardizations of the good stuff. The devil came in the form of a snake and tempted the humans to eat the fruit. What I love is that early on in the story we’re reminded that the best that evil can do is bastardize good things. Snakes aren’t evil, they’re kind of awesome. But the devil used it to bring about broken relationship. If we look at most everything that is destructive in our world it turns out to be a bastardization of something that was originally good. Evil doesn’t create. How would like and Christianity be different if we had the courage to own everything good?
  • …work is a gift from God. Work isn’t something we HAVE to do, it’s something we GET to do. God didn’t place humanity in a box, in an empty field, on a cement pad, or in a spa resort. He placed them in a garden with plants and animals to take care of. Work was part of the beauty of their existence–how would life be different if we understood labor as a beautiful part of being human? How would we choose our jobs differently? Hmm…I wonder.
There are so many other bullet points that could be included here! Again, regardless of whether you take this story literally or not the reality is that it is the the defining start to the Jesus-narrative. And I think we have a great opportunity to be shaped by the meaning that this story seeks to bring into our world. Peace, communion, relationship, enjoyable labor, partnership, goodness…this is who we are and what we were intended for…what if we tried to live THAT out?

It's All Spiritual

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We all love boxes. You love boxes, I love boxes, we all love boxes.

I’m not talking about moving, I’m talking about how we love to create boundaries around things. Even you weirdos that say you’re an ‘outside the box person’ still find your value as an ‘outside the box person’ based on an ‘outside the box’ box that you’ve created. Boxing things allows us to simplify the way we think and view the world around us. It makes life easier ’cause it reduces the amount of thinking I have to do. If I look at you and place you in a box (which we all do!) then I can move forward with a whole set of assumptions about you, about how I relate with you, about how I should treat you, etc. If we’re being honest, boxes are essential…maybe not beneficial…but generally pretty essential.

One box, though, that I’m sick of is the spiritual box. Ok, don’t let me lose you yet, let me explain first. We love to create boxes around things spiritual and things physical. It’s these boxes that allow some religious groups to pray and never seek medial help. It’s these boxes that cause many Christians to pray instead of going to counseling. It’s these kind of boxes that cause some people to look for answers everywhere BUT their identity in God. It’s these boxes that create an artificial dichotomy that is not beneficial for our health, our healing, and our future.

The reality, I believe, is that everything is spiritual. Everything. Why did I get cancer? Some say it’s spiritual warfare. Others say it’s a disruption in my energy flow because of childhood trauma. Others say it’s a fluke. Others say it’s because I shop too much at Costco. The reality, I believe, is that all those things are spiritual! (Ok, maybe not Costco) It’s not one or the other.

So did I get cancer because of spiritual warfare (I realize this is a really bad term to use that’s loaded with nasty baggage. Please forgive me for using it and take it in its most un-baggaged way)? Hell yes! Of course its spiritual warfare (define it how you will)! Did I get cancer because something got jacked up in my body? Yes! Are those two things mutually exclusive? Absolutely not. The distinctions we’ve created in our western world between the physical and the spiritual is a much bigger blog than what I’m able to write today–but if the reality of Jesus walking on earth tells us anything it’s that the spiritual and the physical are forever and always intimately connected. If the idea of God being a creator God tells us anything it’s that the spiritual and the physical are forever and always intimately connected. If the idea of promised resurrection and victory over death tells us anything it’s that the physical and the spiritual are intimately connected. “Intimately connected” might not even be a strong enough way to say it because the two cannot be separated.

We may spend lots of our time trying to create boxes in our lives around people, ideas, and ways of living–but the spiritual should not be one of them. Everything is spiritual–how we eat, how we heal, how we live, how we love. It all matters and it’s all connected.

When Do We Stop Listening

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On a recent blog post a person commented “how long should we listen?” This question was in regard to me suggesting that regardless of your theological position on homosexuality–whether it’s right or wrong or whether the answer is to embrace it or live celibate or whatever*, we should take a posture of listening and open dialog.

I think there is a major assumption that underlies many people’s questions regarding the idea of listening and dialoging with those who see things differently from us. That assumption is that the only reason we listen and dialog to others is in order to achieve our desired outcomes. The assumption is that if somehow I know ahead of time that you will never ‘come around’ to my point of view there is then no reason to dialog with you. What’s the point if you won’t ever agree with me? While it is obviously impossible to know if someone will ever agree with us I think it is important that we challenge this assumption head on and question it for what it is…

We all do it at times. We do. Don’t deny it. But to only engage in dialog and to only listen to others when we think it’ll achieve our goals is unkind and denies the dignity of the other person. It assumes that they’re ignorant. It assumes they’re wrong. It assumes that we have nothing to learn. It assumes a lot. It is also slightly deceitful. Am I really listening to you if I’m only doing it in order to make you think as I do? I may pretend like I value your opinion, but if my purpose is to invalidate that opinion then how honest am I being?

What if we listened to each other because we valued the other’s voice? Because we valued that their opinions and thoughts represent who they are, what they value, and how they’re creating meaning in the world. What if we lived out of a place that recognized that while we cannot walk in their shoes and experience the moments that have shaped them, we can honor those experiences by valuing their voice–not because we want to change them but because we value who they are and who they are becoming. We’re all becoming something, we’re all being changed and transformed, and none of us are truly certain of who we are becoming (though we all hope to be changing in some kind of intentional direction don’t we!). So to listen to others, to make space in our lives for a posture of openness to dialog to those who think differently and see the world differently does not require that try to change them but rather that we believe we’re both being changed–that life is not static, and that life is not done in a vacuum but in relationship with others!

So how long should we listen? We should listen until they’re done talking or until dinner time ’cause then it’s time to eat and everyone knows it’s rude to talk with your mouth full.

 

* Not to suggest these are the only two options…or even to suggest that ‘options’ is a word to be used in this context!

It's Simple But it's Good

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Six years of education centered around theology, eight years of college level education overall, working in Portugal as a missionary for two years, working for six years starting a new faith community, and beginning a new and different movement here in downtown Vancouver…and my greatest insight, the thing that has struck me the most, what I’ve learned most through my crisis with cancer is that the “good news” is…well…good. When it’s lived out (particularly when it is lived out radically) it is tangibly good to those who experience or observe it. For someone who considers themselves a follower of Jesus this should be common sense, “duh”, obviously, of course-type of information. And yet, and yet…AND YET it is not so commonly experienced! I see far too many people who are followers of Jesus and yet seem to not experience the goodness of it themselves! They equate following Jesus with going to church, they equate it with a system of rules, with a system of morality, etc. While I believe church is a part of the goodness of following Jesus, and while I believe that Jesus invites us to say “no” to certain things…the reality is that when those things are the core to your belief I think you’ve missed the boat! You’ve missed what’s so good about the “good news”.  Going to church isn’t good news–being a part of a community of people who love you no matter what, who will be honest with you, who care for you, and who invite you to learn to reciprocate–that’s good news! Understanding yourself by what you say no to is not good news to anyone (unless you’re a seeker of control)–but learning to say no to things that are destructive to self and others–that’s good news!

Simply put, good news is good. Its tangibly good. It’s noticeably good. It’s nearly irresistibly good. It’s attractively good. And it took me getting cancer to really believe, see, and experience this.

Jesus invites us into a life that the Bible refers to as gospel (good news) and I hope it doesn’t take you getting cancer to truly and honestly believe it in all its beautiful simplicity.

The Wandering Daughter: a short story (part one?)

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I wrote the following short story a few years ago for a worship gathering with my old faith community. (And I’ve shamelessly borrowed bits and pieces from different stories I’ve interacted with in the past) I’ve posted this on my blog before but the reason I am reposting it today is because I’ve had some new insights to the story. My goal was to write a follow up piece to post on the blog tomorrow in order to better flesh out and better tell the rest of the story…but I’m not sure I’m able to accomplish this feat…we’ll see…tomorrow.

I grew up in a good home, and I’m not just saying that, it really was a loving environment where both my parents cared for me and told me that they loved me often. As a little girl I was especially close to my dad. We would go on dates together, just he and I; he’d take me shopping at the mall even though he hated shopping. He said it made his wallet and his ankles hurt. Sometimes we’d just go out for ice cream and he’d dare me to get the biggest ice cream sundae they had, you know the one with 10 scoops that comes in a trough. We’d talk a lot over ice cream, and he’d always end the date by looking me straight in the eyes and saying that he loved me. My dad was amazing and I loved him very much.

But something changed my senior year. I shouldn’t say “something”, but I should say I changed. My dad was still loving toward me and my family was still near perfect, but I started exploring some new choices in life. I got a boyfriend who was quite a bit older than me. He was 25 and I was only 17. My friends at school said it was a pretty cool thing to date a guy so mature, but my parents told me it was a bad idea. I really liked Alex, that was my boy friend, and it infuriated me that my parents didn’t want us to be together. We loved each other…I thought. The moment that Alex and I started dating a chasm began to separate my parents and I. The relationship that was so close between my dad and I earlier on in my life became a distant memory. My dad still told me that he loved me but I would just scream back at him “if you really loved me then you’d let me and Alex be together!” I was so full of anger and frustration that I felt like a volcano building with pressure ready to explode at any seismic shift. Alex introduced me to a lot of new things that I had never tried before. I lost my virginity to him. We’d go to parties and get wasted on alcohol I’d never even heard of (which honestly doesn’t say much!). Alex always laughed at how innocent I was. At those parties I smoked marijuana for the first time, they all told me it wasn’t a big deal, but I knew that if my dad found out he’d be disappointed.

Right around the time I turned eighteen my family all went up to the cabin like we did every year. I said I didn’t want to go, that I was too old for that and had better things to do. Right before they left I lifted my dad’s credit and debit cards from his wallet and while they were gone I moved into Alex’ apartment. By the time my family got back I had withdrawn a bunch of money and maxed out a few of his credit cards. I don’t remember what I bought with it—probably lots of random shit.

Things with Alex went well at first, but after a few months I got pregnant. I was kind of freaked out and excited all at once with the idea of bringing new life into the world, but he was furious. How could I even think of keeping the baby he asked me? He called me a lot of names and hit me for the first time. I’ll never forget terminating that pregnancy, I felt dirty. And relieved. And the fact that I felt relieved made me feel dirty again. Honestly I didn’t know what to feel but with each subsequent abortion I had less and less feeling. Eventually I got numb and as the numbness increased so did the substance.

I don’t remember a whole lot over the next five years. I remember that I hated myself. I was addicted to so many different substances that I could barely even function in society. Alex and I didn’t last too long, but because of my need for a next high I had to find someone else to support me. I couldn’t keep a job but I had to keep up with my drug use so I ended up getting together with another guy, Josh. Like I said, I don’t remember a whole lot during this time, but I do remember that Josh was pretty nasty. He got me into stripping so that I could “do my part”. He’d have a lot of girls stay over, but he always told me that I was his first choice. He told me that I needed him, that the only reason I got a job stripping was because he knew the club owner. Josh said I was ugly and that I couldn’t get a job a gas station let alone at a club if it wasn’t for him. Eventually he had me sleeping with different buddies of his. It got him some extra money to fill his tumbler with more Jack he said. I felt pretty ugly both inside and out so I did whatever I could to forget who I was and where I was.

The next solid thing I remember in my story is kind of strange. I was completely high but from somewhere deep inside I gained some remnant of my dignity. I told Josh that I wasn’t going to sleep with his friends anymore; I told him I was better than that. Saying that set Josh off and he beat me so bad that you wouldn’t have been able to recognize me. I finally looked as terrible on the outside as I felt on the inside.

Once my face healed up a little bit, I found that I didn’t have anywhere to sleep ‘cause Josh had kicked me out, I didn’t have any income ‘cause who wants to watch a scared up woman dance, and so I didn’t have any way to feed my addictions. My past was like a mirage, I could barely even see it anymore. I hadn’t seen my family in years, and I knew that they must hate me completely. But the only idea I had was to call my parents and ask for some money. There was no other option. So I called my parents…three times. And each time I got the answering machine. The third time I left a message, I remember that message like it was yesterday. “Dad, mom, it’s me. I was wondering about maybe coming home for a little bit. I need to borrow some money and I’m catching a bus your way. My bus comes in at midnight next Friday. If you’re not there, I understand, and I’ll just stay on the bus until it hits Canada.” That message still haunts me. As I left it I just kept thinking they hate me, they hate me. I know they do. I hate me, so why wouldn’t they? Everything I had done to damage their little girl began running through my head like a movie—one of those movies that you regret watching because it ends in tragedy and for some reason wins lots of Academy Awards. I’m screwed wasn’t exactly what I said, but that’s about the only word I can use here. But I had no other option, so I got on the bus and headed home.

By the time the bus ride ended I didn’t have any finger nails left I was so nervous. I spent the whole time rehearsing what I was going to say, “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’m a complete screw up. All I need is a few hundred bucks and then I’ll never bother you again.” It was my mantra, I kept saying it over and over again and in each scenario my dad had a different response some which ended in me killing myself, others ended in my dad strangling me, others ended with lots of shame, guilt, and me running away again.

As I neared the bus depot I put on my game face. “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’m a complete screw up. All I need is a few hundred bucks and then I’ll never bother you again.” I was ready. I was ready for a fight. As the bus stopped I mustered my courage and walked off the bus. “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’m a complete screw up. All I need is a few hundred bucks and then I’ll never bother you again.” But as my foot hit the ground outside the bus I saw my dad. Then my mom, then my old pastor, and my cousin with my aunt. There were nearly 30 people there to greet me. They were holding signs and banners. “Welcome home” “We love you” They all had goofy party hats on and those obnoxious noise makers. They were waving and screaming and as I walked off the bus my dad ran toward me and hugged me like I hadn’t been hugged in ten years. We were both sobbing uncontrollably. Through my tears I did manage to sputter out the words “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’m a complete screw up. All I need is…” “I love you” he whispered into my ear interrupting my well prepared request. So I started again, “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in…” “Shh, let’s not waste too much time here; you’ll be late for the big party back at the house.”