Born Spiritually Breech

That is how Phillip Yancey refers to the spiritual life in his book "Reaching for the Invisible God." I thought it funny at first, but soon after I realized it was more of an accurate depiction than just a humorous antidote.

Being born breech poses a lot of problems for both the mother and the baby. It can be a much more strenuous labor and not to mention it just isn't the "normal" way a baby is supposed to enter the world. So when we compare a natural childbirth with that of a spiritual birth, we must also list all the complications that come with being born spiritually.

There are three complications that effected my being born spiritually.

1. I thought God and Santa Claus were a lot a like...

Until I was 7 I kind of looked at God like Santa. If you're good, you get good things, if you're bad, then bad things happen. I also believed in God like I believed in Santa. I thought Santa was real, but I never saw him. I thought God was real, but I never saw him either. The only difference in Santa and God at this point, was that Santa came down the chimney and stole your cookies, while God just had a bunch of quotes hanging on our walls.

2. My family went to church...

Now most would assume this is something natural and not a complication. However, church, in my case was a social gathering, not a place where we lived out the gospel Jesus preached. In fact, until the time I was 14 all I knew was that Jesus came, died, and rose again. And if I wanted to go to heaven I needed to be a good little girl and Jesus would give me gifts under the Christmas tree so I could add them to my mansion that sat on the streets of gold. There was something in their messages too about forgiveness, sin, and righteousness. I understood very little, and tried for all of 7 years (7 to 14) to do what was right so the God of Wrath didn't annihilate me or my family. So at 14 when I started to question the reason we went to church and what the Bible actually said I wasn't that popular among my friends. It wasn't that they were not interested in knowing God, He just didn't seem to have the same appeal to them as He did to me.

So in order to come out healthy I had to stop listening to what the preacher said and start reading things for myself. It was a painful process. Weeding through truth never is easy.

3. I thought I was awesome.

The number one spiritual killer. Pride. Yep, I had it. Like a bad case of chicken pox. I was always scratching and busting open the wounds that were scabbing over. I think I acquired my pride when I started asking questions and reading things on my own. My knowledge increased and so did my pride. I thought momentarily that I was God's elect and it was my job to tell everyone else how wrong they were for believing certain things about Jesus. And on top of all that, I am certain my pride was a cover up for the insecurity that was walling my heart in.

My spiritual birth wasn't easy. It wasn't incredibly difficult, but there were many times when someone would yell push and I would turn. I don't think it is ever easy to come to Jesus. Nor is it easy to stay with Him. My spiritual birth may be over, but now there is that whole growing up part. And God knows (literally) that has been more difficult than the initial celebratory birth.

Jesus, Gin, and the Cat Dish

And so it seems I am writing again. I haven't given up on writing, I simply moved it to a more comfortable location...my journal.

I've recently craved the often irreverent writings of Anne Lamott. She is funny and fresh. When I read her, I can smell the Bolinas salt water and taste the 3 day old coffee that is sitting in the sink. Every word is alive in all of my senses.

The most recent quote, "I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish." Now, I don't know if Jesus would drink gin. He seems more like a bourbon kinda guy (or girl) however you choose to interpret His/Her gender. (Yes, I too read The Shack) While the quote makes me chuckle, I've often wondered how true it is. Not in the sense that Jesus drinks gin, but more so, do I believe that Jesus is taken back by my thoughts? That He stands with His finger pointed at my face shaking his wispy white hair side to side. Sometimes in my head I can hear Jesus say "that rich young ruler had a better chance of getting into heaven than you do."

Obviously this isn't what I "actually" believe, but it is how I often live out my faith. Striving for perfection and stepping so carefully in order to hit each stone that I miss what is around me. And what I miss is often the beauty and mystery of God.

Perhaps I will fill my cat dish up with water tonight.

Honk & Holler Opening Soon

I read Billie Lett's novel Honk & Holler six years ago during an English class. I don't remember much about the book, only that the characters were different, and had stories, messed up stories, but somehow it all worked out. What I remember the most though, was the cover. It seemed warm and inviting, but quaint, very quaint. I thought about that book several months ago while driving, because I saw this image just over the horizon on my way to dinner. It was the cover of that book. And in a split second my mind raced back to six years ago, and all the thoughts and plans I had for my life. I wanted to trade in my small town roots for something much larger and more adventurous. I didn't care where or how, I just wanted to cut the apron strings and run. Now six years later I sit at the computer with some of the exact same thoughts. I typically do not divulge my feelings in this particular format. I save that for my thread bare journal with tea stained pages, but today is different. I feel uneasy about life come August. I think much too often about the future and wonder if my apron strings will ever be ripped away. I have difficulty deciding if my aspirations and dreams are just fluff, and if eventually I will be pulled into the reality of this world.

Perhaps in August I will drive to Oklahoma and find the now opened Honk & Holler...where the characters are alive and their stories resolved.

Recovering a sense of delight

Two days ago was quite possibly one of the warmest days in winter that I've had the chance to experience in some time. So to celebrate such, I convinced a few fellow house mates to take a trip down to the river. I have been missing the closeness I had in Boone to such beautiful sites of nature, but alas the Broad River is a fair substitute.

There was a particular part on the trail that I found myself alone for a few moments. When I turned to look out across the river, the sun hit the water in a way that made everything dance. The colors were vibrant and a stillness settled across the sky. For most it wouldn't have been an incredible act of nature, but for me, one who finds such contentment and rest in those instances, it moved me. And in that moment there was a part of my being that understood the view God has from above...the fact that his entire attention is absorbed into that one place. My heart is restless for more of those moments, but my time constraints seem to lessen them.

Midway through the writing of this blog, I paused to read a chapter from Marva Dawn's "Truly the Community" she said " I want to inspire holding fast to the good in each moment. To recover a sense of delight, to appreciate the flavors or fragrances or colors of beauties that surround us at particular moments, to feel things with our inmost beings, and thereby be sensitive to God's presence in a multitude of little ways."

Perhaps we should seek to delight in goodness again...