learning from the past

here's a little something I've been working on this morning (after getting up to go to church by myself and then being DUPED by stupid google maps' WRONG DIRECTIONS and getting lost, missing church and coming home):

maybe i feel natural doing "church" with a small fellowship of people in my home because it is a faded photograph of how my faith began.

let me explain.

in Tim Keller's book The Prodigal God, he says this regarding the early church:
"when Christianity first arose in the world it was not called a religion. it was the non-religion. imagine the neighbors of early Christians asking them about their faith. 'Where's your temple?' they'd ask. The Christians would reply that they didn't have a temple. 'But how could that be? where do your priests labor?' The Christians would have replied that they didn't have priests. 'but...but," the neighbors would have sputtered, 'where are the sacrifices made to please your gods?' the Christians would have responded that they did not make sacrifices anymore. Jesus himself was the temple to end all temples, the priest to end all priests, the sacrifice to end all sacrifices."

let me also paraphrase some of the other things Keller says. He tells us that these new ideas represented in the Christian faith were unlike anything of the day...and that's why the Romans dubbed them "atheists"--it was unclassifiable. They didn't have a category or name for it.

He also says "if the preaching of our ministers and the practice of our parishioners do not have the same effect on people that Jesus had, then we must not be declaring the same message that Jesus did." but that is actually a whole other topic for a whole other day.

Back to point 1. perhaps the traditional idea of Christian church today has become, in some ways, the Jewish temples of Christ's day. perhaps we are so caught up in the "temple, priest, sacrifice" rhythm of religion that it feels blasphemous for us to say that Christ is just as much in a home gathering of four people as He is in a stained-glass-window-church building filled with 200. to think of it practically, the early Christians began "church" this way. "Church" was really a word that described the entirety of the family of God--the larger picture of the family of Christ-followers scattered across the globe, across gender, age and ethnicity. now suddenly it seems to denote individual bodies of believers who often function as distanced islands on a secular sea, and voila! we find ourselves unable to place the lone Christian floating on a raft in the water who does not "belong" (and I use this satirically) to any one piece of land.

oh, please understand that I am not condemning the organized church. in fact, i feel the same misgivings, the same puzzlement, the same gravitational pull to belong to a building and a worship leader, a pastor and a bulletin and a system of doing things.

it's been harder of late to think that way, though. simply because of doubt and frustration and a heap of anger. because it's hard to sit down and want to read the Bible, or engage in prayer when you aren't so sure what it is or what it looks like, or to have a real, vibrant relationship with Christ when you keep coming back to all those ritual MUSTS and DO NOTS and can't seem to break away from them. golly, it's like these rituals are an atrophied limb that should just be lopped off, but you can't seem to part with it. they had their place once, but now they are just hindering learning to function in a new way.

so this morning, when it felt like God was playing a cruel joke on me--i was, after all, trying to go worship HIM, trying to be a part of a body of believers for HIM--i am going to claim that today is a lesson in this: "Yeah, I'm in a church building. But I'm also at Home. Let's have a cup of coffee."

goodbye, and thanks for all the fish

there's been no poetry in me of late.
what chases the poetry out of someone? is it a dullness of color in the world, or perhaps just a dullness of sight? probably the latter because as i sit here in the morning hours, even under a dense gray sky, the greens and browns are flourishing, shaking themselves dry from last night's shower. it is taking a lot of effort for me to tune my eyes to the song of nature this past couple of months.
it's hard for me to write poetry about summer. although I appreciate all that summer has to offer, i must confess that my soul feels dormant, sleeping until the heat passes over, waiting to wake again when the first breath of fall blows in to refresh me.
it is ironic how fall is my favorite season. it's a season of change, and i usually find myself bucking against change. but fall is also about harvest--bringing in the spoils of labor, gathering with others to enjoy and remember. and...well, and it's beautiful. yes, it's one of the only things in this world that could begin to convince me that change--as painful as it may be--is also vibrant, promising and lovely.


ah, what a bad omen this morning: a lonely school bus making its rounds down my street, extending it's arm for a second to my neighbors, then moving on, rejected. it reminds me that in a few short weeks, i will be standing before my students giving my initial speech of the year ("good morning, students, my name is Mrs. Fissel...") and handing out a syllabus that students and parents will sign, but not read.

"i wanna die with you" crones my teenage neighbor along with his music. i can hear him through the window, open to admit the fan they placed there this morning. he's a little tone deaf, but i can appreciate the sentiment. there are ants invading my coffee cup but i must remember that i am imposing upon their territory this morning. okay....maybe a little more than tone deaf, if there is such a level of inability to hear musical notes.

i am losing another friend in a few weeks. i suppose in some ways, i should be thankful that these transitions have happened so quickly in my life--i guess its like ripping off a band-aid instead of slowly pulling it away from the skin. maybe i should be more specific: another of my close friends is moving away in two weeks. i know that i am by no means losing her as a friend, but i am losing her company, her closeness and the ability to be spontaneous with her. i have many dear friends here in the 'Boro, but at each "loss," it becomes more and more clear to me that they all play a special role in my life and are, therefore, absolutely irreplaceable. this friend is my cuddle buddy, and my bike riding buddy, and one of the best listeners in my life. i am thankful that we've both been available to be together a lot this summer--a secret gift, perhaps, from a God who knew what was coming even though none of us were sure. despite the selfishness of my rant, i will say that i am overjoyed at the reason for their moving and, well, its an answer to prayers that I prayed, so what do i have to complain about?

i remember at the beginning of the summer, in June, looking "far" into the future to this week of July with terror--terror that it would come to soon, and so i put it out of my mind (or tried). i have had a fabulous summer this year. i spent some precious time with people i almost never get to see, and spent time enjoying the sunshine. i slept in some mornings, or got up like today, to enjoy coffee outside before the sun moved in for the kill (it's been in the 100's this summer so i'm sure you understand where all this enmity is coming from, readers....). i traveled to see loved ones and spent long, quiet hours listening to waves crash and massaging my feet in the sand. i even went out of the country to expand my experience with beaches and to be alone with my husband. i played "mom" for a couple of weeks, taking care of house guests, cleaning my kitchen a dozen times a day (or so it felt). i've played a ludicrous amount of speed scrabble. and although i have some dread of that first day of school with students--getting up at 5am, hearing the bell ring, facing an entire new group of faces with nervousness and expectation--i dont feel as alarmed about the second, third, fourth days, or the months until next June. in fact, along with my husband, i have ceased to be able to "see" that far into our future. i'm not sure what the next year has in store for us. i dont think i could have guessed all that happened this year--with friendships and finances and church. maybe that's why i'm not doing much guessing about the next.

he's a little better at rapping than singing. i guess everyone has their niche.

reflections: a voice from a jail cell and homosexuality

i am ashamed that i have gone through 26 years of life without having read Martin Luther King Jr.'s "Letter from a Birmingham Jail." it is both amusing and bemusing that the issue that has brought me to its 10 printed pages today is homosexuality. at first, i was searching through its lines for a quote that i heard in a short speech by Andrew Marin on his blog http://www.loveisanorientation.com. it was a quote about healthy tension that caught my attention and, i confess, i wanted to nab this nugget to put in my facebook status. i thank God that i had the time and interest to read it in its entirety: i can already feel the surface emotions of a deeper impact with layers that i think, i hope, i am just beginning to peel back.

as i thumb through this letter, peppered by steadily-highlighted passages that spoke more loudly to me than others, i don't know where to begin this reflection.

in my life, homosexuality has been a distant issue on which i have developed vague beliefs, the foundation of which can be traced back to my spiritual and familial upbringing and the cultural "waters" i've done most of my "swimming" in. but this space between me and homosexuality has been impossible to maintain as i encounter gay men and women and, more personally, have dear friends who are coming out. it is no longer possible for me to remain impersonal, untouched by the issue, for what i have not sought out has seemed to seek me out instead. i am finding myself, unable to maintain apathy and distance, unsure how to proceed. i have been to a conference; i have heard speakers and read articles and excerpts from books and had conversations with gay and straight people alike but i think nothing has struck me so near to the core as King Jr.'s letter from a dingy prison cell.

here is a man pouring his passionate heart into a letter to his critics. it is a letter full of robust compassion and thunderous conviction. i am touched by the disappointment and hurt he expresses so honestly: rather than a clenched fist, it is an open palm. at that time, this country was torn: a face with two sides, unable to agree on a single expression. each side was equal in passionate certainty of their own belief. But there was a "right" and a "wrong." in the end, right prevailed. as an outside critic who is nearly 50 years into the future on the other side of a conflict that the majority can now agree on, i cannot help but feel a connection between the issue of segregation as King expresses it and our current struggle over homosexuality. i assure you, i am not trying to take away the significance or individuality of each issue in their own right, but similarities present themselves to me that help me as i think through certain questions that sit before me, unmoving. i dont want to talk about politics, though. i dont want to talk about laws and rights and governmental decisions. i do want to talk about how sometimes, we humans can be so certain of our "rightness" on an issue that we are unable to analyze our own motives or see the other side of the conflict. i feel strongly that this is often rooted in fear and self-worth.

i have shied away from tension. i have been uncomfortable talking through issues that seem to have no right or wrong answer, in which both sides have pieces of truth that are hard to contend with. remember that quote i mentioned earlier? "...I must confess that I am not afraid of the word 'tension.' I have earnestly opposed violent tension, but there is a type of constructive, nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth." i don't want to be afraid of tension, either. i don't want to be afraid to objectively evaluate my beliefs, nor do i want to be afraid of having faith--a universal thing no person can say they dont hold that contains, in its very nature, an element of blindness. i feel the tension between my Christianity and homosexuality and i have felt anger towards it, and fear, and sadness. those feelings have in no way dissipated as new emotions have recently been added to the mix: curiosity, and determination to figure out a "better way" of addressing something that, well, something that God has seen fit to use to GROW this plant of me.

i feel like the "privileged" one. as Andrew Marin of the Marin Foundation would say, i have never been labeled as "deviant to mainline Christianity" so i will never understand what it feels like to wear that Scarlet Letter. King says "Lamentably, it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily." i have grasped the Gift of Grace, worn it like a badge well-earned and from my golden throne, i have spent much of my life judging those who will never earn the same "right"--the "right" to have their thirst quenched by the same bottomless well; all the while, i have claimed to follow the One who offered this water to an utter outcast (*see John 4). i am a part of a culture that treats homosexuals like modern-day lepers, but seems to see that our predecessors who cast out lepers were wrong.

i am a "white moderate, who is more devoted to 'order' than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: 'i agree with you in the goal you seek, but i cannot agree with your methods of direct action'; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom." i am a daughter of the church that "commit[s] themselves to a completely other worldly religion which makes a strange, un-Biblical distinction between body and soul, between the sacred and the secular." i claim, ashamedly, that i have "blemished and scarred that body [of Christ] through social neglect and through fear of being nonconformists" (King Jr.). with deep conviction, i believe that the footsteps of Christ can be seen in apologetic "protests" and "confession booths" at Pride events (see http://www.timschraeder.com/2010/06/30/a-different-kind-of-demonstration-at-gay-pride/ and http://www.pluggedin.com/videos/2010/q2/lordsaveusfromyourfollowers.aspx). i believe Christ stands with members of my church family who step out to say "I'm so sorry for what the church has done to you." it has taken me a long time to take even this tiny step in my perspective on homosexuality and while i am still struggling with the issue's inherent mysteries, i feel excited and energized by this growing movement of apology and love as a step forward, a step into Christ's embracing arms extended towards adulteresses, thieves, lepers and so many other individuals whose lives were full of sins that the Bible identifies as such.

King Jr. cited a time when "the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society." he feared that "If today's church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century." i am a willing participant in this very deterioration that is occurring in the twenty-first century, all for the sake of my own reputation and gain. i dearly love a church that has become more about being right than becoming a home for the abandoned. i have great difficulty associating with the low, and especially with seeing myself as a sinner. the Brennan Manning quote that i have made into a personal slogan "we are beggars showing other beggars where to get the bread" has not penetrated my life in a meaningful way but been used to add layers to my self-righteousness so that i am able to feel superior not only to non-believers, but to other Christians as well.

i am on my own journey of redemption, one that i only glimpse in those precious moments when i am dismounted from my self-righteousness by a harsh truth about myself or some other such thing. despite a seeming hopelessness in the church and its place in the world and culture i live in, i do have a lingering hope. after reading King Jr.'s "Letter from a Birmingham Jail," i am reminded that he was writing about his convictions on a controversial issue that had some resolution. every generation has what C.S. Lewis might call a kind of "intellectual superiority" in which we believe we have reached the "final answer" on things, only to be proven wrong when we return to the Earth and are replaced by our children and grandchildren. perhaps these questions on homosexuality will experience a kind of resolution in the future, hopefully an advancement that won't leave Christians behind and one that will be aided by our lives, not in spite of them.

these reflections are dedicated to my dear, brave friends who are faced with these questions in a personal way that i will never experience (just as i can never truly appreciate the African-American's struggle for civil rights), and who have gently and graciously allowed me into their lives despite my ignorance and insensitivity as i grapple with questions about faith and sexuality. i love you; forgive my unloving-ness.

vulnerability

the oyster me
is faintly beating
a soft thing within that
a single moment could puncture
a fragile thing
full of fleshy, dependent life
it rises and falls with simple trust
in the center of its weighty shell

i like contacts because...

when it rains, i dont have to constantly wipe them off to be able to see.

when i'm snuggling, they don't poke my husband in the eye.

when i'm putting my hair up, the dont get tangled in my pony tail.

when im playing around on the computer at school, my students cant see the reflection of the computer screen in them and catch me in the act.

when i'm working out, i dont have to reach around them to mop the sweat off my brow.

when i open the dishwasher to unload the dishes, they dont fog up.

when they slide down my face...oh wait, they dont slide down my face.

when the sun is beating down on me in the summer, i can wear sunglasses to defy its obnoxiousness.

when you look into my eyes, you can actually see what color they are.

when i look up, i can see the whole picture around me rather than two square-shaped pieces of it.



why do i miss glasses?

ive always worn them.
my husband thinks they're cute.
i feel intellectual.
i can hide behind them.
they dont make my eyes dry out.
they take less time.

mostly, my husband thinks they're cute and i like it when he thinks im cute.