Year-end thoughts

As a writer (in my own way), I can’t help but try and put some year-end thoughts down on paper. This year could write a book by itself. I’ve traveled more than 30 thousand miles in my little yellow beetle, and if only I could quantify the emotional, intellectual, and spiritual journeys 2008 has taken me on, I’m sure it would amount to a number greater than the miles my odometer states in my car.
I’ve attempted several times to write something about this past year. As I am rarely brief and short winded, the endeavor has often led into a haphazard rambling mess. So to keep it readable, I’m just going to go for a few lessons learned.

On Passion

Passion is unpredictable, and can lead you to many different places, it can be volatile, jealous, and self-seeking, yet God given. It must be held in an open palm, but not let loose. Somewhere in 2008, I realized I had neglected my passion. In an effort to remember what it was I found myself driving across the country to spend another summer in eastern Michigan. It wasn’t until the end of the summer on a road trip where I found myself in Atlanta, GA that I reclaimed that passion and found the peace to come back home to San Francisco.

On Faith

Faith is yet another intangible that is more easily misplaced than expected. I spent a greater part of the year nursing the wounds that can sadly come with sharing faith in a community. While God is unchanging, people do not have that privilege. Even though I left my church, I can thankfully say I did not leave God. Unfortunately, bitterness settled into my wounds, and my relationship with God and the church as a whole suffered. There came a dark moment that scared the beejeezees out of me, when I realized that losing faith and my relationship with God wasn’t about leaping off the deep end, but rather small quiet steps. Thankfully the end of 2008 saw more steps towards God than away. My bitterness has edged off (I’m not very good at holding grudges for too long), and I’m reclaiming my faith.

On People

People come in and out of our lives. They just do. Sometimes, for better or for worse, people leave when you least expect them to. Other times, people stay when you wish they would just go away. And again, other times you get to do the coming and going. I did a lot of coming and going this year. So, in this moment I’m going to apologize to those who I left. There are a few people I couldn’t have made it through some painful times without, and I don’t think I took nearly enough time in letting them know how much they meant to me. Thank you for being there, and I’m sorry if I didn’t let you know at the time. With that said, I could say something similar (perhaps without the apology) for people who have come into my life this year. God does not leave you high and dry. He created us for relationship, so I’m sure it’s no mistake, as some go, others come.

I think that’s as brief as I can get for 2008. I’m looking forward to 2009 – the changes, the challenges, the triumphs, and the growth.

I hope everyone has (or had) a safe new years eve.

ramblings from your daughter across the ocean

This morning I read a facebook note by a teen that I had the opportunity to work with this summer. Tomorrow, the 23rd is the 11th anniversary of his father's death. 44 years young, just a year younger than my dad currently is. He states, "All I know, is that life is pathetically short." I don't know if this is what finally tipped my need to get in contact with my dad, but it struck something deep. So in honor of the memory of his father, and the memories I don't have with my living father, I wanted to share the email I wrote to my dad.

Hey Dad,

So you've come up a few times in my conversations with friends as of late, so I figured I should drop you a line, and let you know I've been thinking about you. The problem is, every time I get the urge to call or write you, I never really know quite what to say. It's always such a long time between the times that we communicate.
This past Wednesday my friends and I were celebrating Advent and we lit the candle of Joy. A friend of mine asked us to share joyful moments, and beyond small moments of joy for the week, I though of the first visit I had back to England when I was 15. It was such a difficult trip, emotionally. I was so angry at how poorly our relationship had been for the first 7 years I'd been living in the states, and I really wanted some resolution. From our conversations over the weeks that I was there, I gained a sense of anticipatory joy. Maybe not joy in the moment, but the hope of future joy in a possible relationship with my dad. I realized as I shared that story with my friends on Wednesday, that some of that hope and joy had fizzled out. We are so horrible and keeping up with each other, and honestly, I don't know what a relationship with you looks like. I feel like the whole father-daughter relationship that kids expect is unrealistic for us to have. Then again, the whole grown child and father relationship doesn't work well for us either, because I don't really know you. Again, neither of us are really good at keeping up with each other.
Sorry if this is completely out of left field (baseball terminology), but I thought I should share my feelings with you... since, well... you're the other party involved. With all of that said, I thought it might make sense to let you know what's going on in my little piece of the world. So here goes...

The next two pages consisted of a long rambled monologue of my current life in San Francisco, which I will spare those who end up reading this.

Life, on this earth feels "pathetically short" sometimes. There are days that I don't want to face the broken relationships that exist in my reachable reality. However, there are days, and people that remind me of the preciousness of life and no mater how messy relationships get, God created us to be in them. Yesterday, we lit the fourth candle of Advent symbolizing love. Hope, peace, joy and love for the coming celebration of the birth of Christ.

It is in this very moment, that I'm starting to grasp onto an idea of what the Christmas season could possibly mean. While I push against what Christmas has become, and the strangeness of all our many traditions. It pulls deeply on my soul that celebrating the birth (even though it's not really at the right time) of an unsuspecting saviour that didn't quite fit the idea of the Messiah in that time, is a powerful and sacred thing.

What's your focus?

“In my thinking, church doesn’t exist for the benefit of its members. It exists to equip it’s members for the benefit of the world.”

-Brian McLaren, A New Kind of Christian

This quote might just incapsulate my greatest struggle with the church right now. Sadly, it is not my only frustration – but a big one. The thing is, how is this measured? Can one church equip one person and not another?

election night

I will post more at a more reasonable time, because 6am comes too fast and I do need to sleep at some point in the very near future. Tonight was a moment in history that no one can take back. America has elected an African American as their president. The words he spoke were beautiful and awe inspiring. I hope even those who did not choose to vote for him, could hear the passion and drive he has for this country. Not to mention, the beauty that surrounded him. Each person listening to him in person, had their opportunity to view history in the making. I felt it while sitting in my living room surrounded by 8 teenage boys, my coworkers, and the volunteer tutors. The adults, more so than the teens let the reality of what was happening soak into us slowly. Most of us, admittedly had tears in our eyes. The teens whooped it up by encouraging people through the windows - even buses honked their horns.

I'd attempt to sleep at this point, but I live so close to one of the biggest epicenters of the controversial California Prop 8 that helicopters haven't stopped covering the area since 9pm.

Church buildings

From the pages of my journal 10/29/08

When I was a young child, about five or six, my mom allowed my neighbors fro across the street to take me to church with them. It wasn't too far, maybe two or three blocks. It was a big, old Methodist church, at least that's how I remember it. For all I know it could have been small and quaint. I have fond memories that almost feel like dreams now, of playing hide and seek after service - usually opting to hid under the choir pews, or up in the raised lectern thing. This church I've decided, was also where my love for coffee came about. Without fail, coffee and tea were available in the back of the sanctuary after service. As I wasn't accompanied by an adult I could have my fill of either beverage. Since tea was regularly available with my babysitter, Audrey, I drank coffee at church. Though it could hardly be called coffee after all the sugar and cream I poured in.
From what I can remember, I was greatly loved at that church, and I'm sure they made every attempt at seeking out my mother. She came once, when I received a Precious Moments Bible, and a copy of Lucy Atwells' first book of prayers - keepsakes I have long since lost track of. My last memories of that church are captured in photos I have somewhere at my mom's house. A few weeks before I turned eight I had a combined Birthday and going away party in the basement, that was used as a multipurpose room, just a week or so before I moved to America. I've never been back since. That was a little over 16 years ago. 2/3 of my life.

I am reminded of those memories as I lay on the ground of the chapel in my house. It might be the smell that brought them, but I think it has more to do with the dark wood pews and ornate furniture that you would typically find in Catholic, or old traditional churches.
Funnily enough, my first thought as I took in the view from my low vantage point (laying on the ground of slightly raised but carpeted "stage"... is it called a stage in a church?), was where I could hide easter eggs in this room.
It's strange that I don't feel the same way towards the ornateness of old chapels, churches and cathedrals as I do about the more modern ornateness of newer, "high tech" churches. In the beauty of old churches, I see the attempt of humans trying to create an alter o the Lord. The painted tiles, stained glass windows, decorative wall hangings, and carefully carved wood fittings. Each an attempt to please the Lord. However, I am not disillusioned enough to believe that this was the soul purpose, or was it? Were these beautiful things added to draw more people to the church, to attract the purses of the wealthy. To make them more marketable?
What was the original purpose of the church? Was it to be a place that people came to list? When I wa about the church I suppose I mean the church as a building. Was it the result of Christians regularly gathering in the same location for the purpse of corporately worshiping God, praying for each other, and having the opportunity to catch up with the neighbor that lived a little too far away to see on a regular basis? Was it meant to represent the Jewish temple? Did it become a place where those who sought out shelter, food, or an ear, could find what they were looking for?

When did churches slowly start drifting away from that? When did they start closing their doors at night? Was it because they we're being vandalized, or did the vandalism occur because they closed their doors? When did we forget what Jesus said and did for the poor, the meek, the downtrodden? Yet as a body, most of us quickly become uncomfortable when an unbathed man walks into the sanctuary. We grow frustrated that our pastor spends more time helping people that come to his door from the "outside" seeking help, than the time he spends preparing for his/her Sunday morning sermon. Maybe, just maybe, his/her service to others is one of the ways he prepares his heart for Sunday.

The love experiement

This week I joined the love-daily experiment facebook group that fellow blogger Missio Dei is conducting with his emergent cohort (sort of like a Christian small group, or for those InterVarsity readers, an intense GIG) over in Sac-town. The task is simple in words, but in practice can be hard to execute. The idea is to "commit to not going to bed for the day until we intentionally loved our neighbor."

It is day two, and I'm already struggling. However as I was discussing with a friend last night, I don't think struggling is always negative. I'm struggling because I recognize the difficulty in the task. Even in the small things, like when I go to mental curse the drivers that keep parking their cars partially in front of our driveway when I'm trying to back out the minivan. Is that love? I quickly lose patience with the teens after they've hurt my feelings and continue to push boundaries. Out of my frustration with them I didn't cook a warm breakfast for them this morning, instead I put milk and cereal out. Is that the best way to love them?

Often times it is easier for me to show kindness and love to a complete stranger than it is to a friend that's getting on my nerves, or a person that has hurt me in the past. I don't think I'm alone in this sentiment. It's acknowledge by Jesus that it's an easy task to love the ones who love you back. My thought is that strangers haven't given you a reason not to love you, so it makes it easier in a way. Even if it's uncomfortable because they may not be as clean or as socially accepted I can grasp onto my understanding of Jesus and his love for people. People who have hurt me, however, it takes some serious effort.

It's a familiar passage, "The Good Samaritan," in Luke, along with the concept of Loving your enemies, from Matthew 5. I wish I could say I do an excellent job, but I don't. If nothing else participating in intentionally loving others, will continually remind me to think before I speak, or at least reflect after.

a quick thought on pain

Life hurts sometimes. It just does. We have found so many ways to try and escape the pain, to avoid the inevitable sting it brings. We wreathe beneath its weight, wishing to be numb. Yet when numbness comes we long to feel again. A part of our soul breaks, I think, when we pull away, and avoid our pain. So often we long to feel only the goodness of life, the joy, the hope, the love, the kindness. We rebuke anything that could pull or tear at those moments. Rightly so! Yet, it is important to acknowledge that so much of our pain is caused by those who we deeply love, those that we put hope in, those that kindness should be given and received in abundance. Our pain comes from missed steps, forgotten hope, and unspoken words. Pain is part of human being. Avoid it and we slowly lose who we are, live in it and the same occurs.