Self Help Books

So generally, I'm not a fan of self help books. I'd rather talk to a human. I'd rather just live life and see what happens instead of taking someone else's experiences as proof.

I say that to say that my wonderful mother keeps finding and giving me these amazing books on dating that I can't help but devour despite my skepticism... because they're so amazing.

So for your joy and because it is worth rereading, here's an excerpt from "If the Buddha Dated" by Charlotte Kasl that seemed to follow up my last post so nicely.

"Giving and receiving help us enter the river of spirit that connects us to each other. To give to others is to feel the joy of creation spilling from us. To receive is to be humbled, to shed our ego and allow another person to penetrate our barriers. We let them know they matter to us, they affect us. Our receptive heart becomes a gift to the giver. When love pierces our hearts, tears may rise because love flushes out anything that is buried." (ch. 28)

The book does add a little much of the "river flowing" for my tastes, but it says so much good stuff that I'm happy to indulge the author.

The Task of Being Loved

Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to be loved? After the discovery this summer that much of what I first present to the world is a performance/mask, I have been putting a lot of energy to present an authentic self to the world for better or worse. I've been delighted to discover it takes a little LESS energy to do that as opposed to presenting the mask. Hooray.

So I've been reflecting on why it is so hard for me to be loved. I know without a doubt in the world that my family loves me and always has. It's all the others. The rest of the world that causes me great doubt.

So it was especially interesting for me to revisit my high school. In many ways, this first real community of people who's opinion I cared about (though it most likely started in middle school). In that place, I felt like next to nothing. I wasn't part of the popular crowd. I didn't get asked to parties. I didn't sit with the cool kids in the circle. I had my few people and I knew they loved me. I told myself that the rest of them didn't matter but I assure you it hurt every time I heard about another party or event I had missed out on. I hurt every time that group cracked up in laughter at an inside joke that I didn't get. I didn't really like high school.

Theater was one of the redeeming things for much of the time. That sort of fell apart senior year, though. One of my best friends and I essentially had a falling out. My other best friend was off at college already. Both of the boys I liked were dating other girls. Let's just say I was ready to go to college...

College, then, was a chance to "reinvent" myself. I was embraced by all these fabulously nerdy friends in my honors program. We had beautifully silly deep conversations about God, we fought over politics, we bonded over movies and music. Still, I felt like I should know more politics, more culture, more literature, MORE. How had I not heard of THAT movie? Read THAT book? Why didn't I know who the ruler of that country was? I was behind intellectually. THAT sucked.

I'm sure that was part of the reason I took a year off before going onto seminary. Took time to decide just who I was. I started working at the coffee shop and met people that I adored. They even liked me. We got along smashingly. We buckled over in laughter. Had heaps of inside jokes. It was bliss. It was my place.

Still, due in part of the outgoing nature of the barista position, my coworkers got worried when I wasn't that bubbly. What was wrong? I remember one particular day when I was feeling neither depressed nor bubbly and was simply mellow. Everyone asked me what was wrong. I knew then that something WAS wrong if I couldn't be NOT chipper for a day without causing a stir.

Seminary was next. I was worried before I even got here that this would be a place of snobby do gooders who never drank, swore, or moved a toe out of line. I am happy to report to my bliss and ongoing relief that this place is filled with humans like me. People who are struggling through their own stuff. People who are real. Tragically, I still pretty much only knew how to be chipper, bubbly, susie sunshine. I was presenting what I thought people wanted.

This is a good moment to add an aside. All along I've had amazing friends that have gotten past that surface level and in many ways, they have saved me. Accepted me. Loved me.

But, CPE happened. It challenged all the ways I was presenting a mask, giving a performance, or trying to be what I thought everyone wanted me to be (including what I thought I SHOULD be). It was a really, really hard lesson. See my post in the midst of it? This one? Yeah, that was heart open honesty right there.

And in a sense, I've been trying to keep my heart that open (that raw?). Loving the intricacies that make up me. The randomness. The silliness. The seriousness. The sarcasm. The holy. The profane. The writer. The singer. The bum. The go getter. The child of God.

Still, I find it remarkable when others like me, want to be around me, love me. So abundantly blessed that I just shake my head and wonder why.

Think God's trying to tell me something??

The Past and Present

I think I could start every post with an apology for not posting more often. But you'll forgive me dear readers, right?

I just got back from a lovely trip south for good friends and family. One of my good friends got married last weekend and I got to be there in FL to celebrate with him! I'm only jealous I can't get to know his beautiful bride more. I did get to spend some fabulous time with my coffee shop friends (they're family - let's be honest). Then we traveled back up to Chattanooga so I could have a day or two to visit with everyone else I love there. The problem is I never seem to have enough time. This was also the case with my Nashville visit but I did get lots of quality sibling time and a full day with each of the parents. Splendid.

One of the more extraordinary parts of my visit to TN was the fact that I did a blast through my past by visiting my college, visiting my high school, and driving past my middle school. Really enjoyed visiting the high school as I went to see two of my favorite teachers. Got to catch up with them. It was seriously strange walking down those hallways with all those little bitty kids though! Was I that small? Yes, yes I'm sure I was. I felt so grown up THEN but it doesn't seem right in comparison to how grown up I feel now. I know that feeling will continue to frequent my body, though, so I guess I best get used to it?

Good to see how much I've changed and how much I am still unshakably ME. That's the best part about visiting the past, right? Noting the change or lack thereof?

On a side note, despite concentrated efforts to throw off the familial opinion that I am a klutz/ditz, I left my cell phone in my mother's car when she dropped me off at the airport. So if you'd like to get in touch with me this week, please email (or stop by if you are able).

All the best. (insert comment to post more often here)

The Playground Problem (a sermon manuscript)

(Dear friends, this is the manuscript for the sermon I preached this morning on Luke 19:1-10. Thought a few of you might want to read it!)

Have you ever pictured Zaccheus as a little boy? To begin with, his name means innocent. He's short. We see him climbing up trees. Eager to see this grown up person, Jesus. Climbing down out of the tree as fast as he can because Jesus has said he's coming over to his house to play. I can picture them arriving at the house and this little boy eagerly taking Jesus' hand to show him all the cool toys he has in his room.

Or maybe you see Zaccheus as a grown man. He is a chief tax collector. He's rich. Today, his house would be strewn with the latest technology. He might drive a sports car. Either way, he's still the unpopular kid on the playground. Not throwing big birthday parties at his house but perhaps sitting alone at his own table at lunchtime, munching on a PB&J and wondering why he has so few friends. But we'd say he's a good kid. He gives away his lunch money and says he's SO sorry when he accidentally trips another kid on the playground.

Or maybe you picture the adult Zaccheus, sitting alone in his big house. He's a good man. He gives monthly to local and international charities that work to end poverty and is always quick to apologize if he makes a mistake at work or unknowingly does something wrong to a member of his staff.

We would call him a good man. Zaccheus is good kid.

So perhaps it is even more heartbreaking when we hear the crowd start to grumble. We know what's coming next. And then we hear it, “Four eyes.” “Stupid.” “Shrimp.” “Why is Jesus going to HIS house?” “Sinner.”

Is it any wonder that immediately after these grumblings, Zaccheus stands up straight and tells Jesus about his annual giving percentage and his track record of correcting wrongs? Looking up into Jesus' face and pleading, “I'm a good man.” Or perhaps, with tears on the playground, asking “Why?”

In those words, I find the story hits home.

This is the season of Endorsement, after all. The time when we get to tell our synod candidacy committees that we are fit for ministry. Ready for internship next year. We've written our essays about grace and baptism and finding our gifts here and we've added stories about how much we learned in CPE this summer.

I met with my committee two weeks ago. And I know that buried in my attempts to prove myself to them... lingered all my doubts. What if I'm not ready yet? Will they say no? What if God is calling me to do something else? What if I'm too much of a sinner to ever lead the church?

I don't know what your doubts are. Maybe they're a lot like mine. Maybe you worry if God can actually craft you into the kind of pastor you dream of being. Maybe you worry if you are doing enough. Studying enough. Attending chapel enough. And in that, we're like Zaccheus. As eager as we are to take Jesus' hand, we worry what the crowd will say.

Because Zaccheus isn't only speaking to Jesus but to the crowd gathered around him that is singing mockingly at the little kid in glasses, “Zaccheus can't see us!!” We're back on the playground, watching the other kids taunt us. And even though we're in seminary now, we carry those voices around with us.

So what does Jesus do? Here he is on the playground with this little child, Zaccheus; or, in the house of this man Zaccheus who is desperately trying to prove himself worthy. Offering up twenty different reasons why he's good enough. Telling the other kids that he's good enough to have Jesus over.

So Jesus says, “Today salvation has come to this house since he also is a son of Abraham.”

It is a profound statement. In it, Jesus claims Zaccheus as a child of God.

Important.

Worthy.

Loved.

In Jesus' response to the crowd's grumbling, he quiets them. He doesn't tell them Zaccheus won him over with his fancy house or fun toys. He doesn't tell the crowd that Zaccheus won him over by his laundry list of good deeds and gold stars.

Jesus tells the crowd that Zaccheus is a son of Abraham. Jesus claims Zaccheus as a child of God.

And I wonder why Jesus even stopped, called him down out of tree, from the margins, and decided to sleepover. Perhaps he saw the desperation of that face in the tree. Knew all that Zaccheus was doing to try to prove himself. Knew that he needed to hear that he was a child of God. Knew that he needed a visit from Jesus.

Jesus does that today, too. Claims us as sons and daughters of God. It matters not that we are children or adults. Jesus doesn't care about the depth or shallowness of our pockets. Jesus even knows that we ARE sinners. Knows all of our doubts. And Jesus quiets them again and again by claiming us.

My committee recommended me for endorsement... but some of you know that the experience was difficult. Instead of feeling affirmed about the things that God has been planting in me making me ready for ministry, I felt even more full of doubt. I was worried about my worthiness for ministry. I was questioning everything.

Sadly, it wasn't their telling me that they were recommending me for Endorsement that made me remember I was a child of God, but the community that wrapped its arms around me afterwards.

The friend who made me coffee and brought it to me when I said I didn't want to talk. And then stayed and listened to me talk for an hour. The friend who told me I was fabulous and reminded me of all those along the way who have told me that they want me to be a pastor.

They were Jesus to me. Quieting the crowd that was raging inside me. Reminding me that Jesus has claimed me. It wasn't about what I could do and it certainly wasn't about proving myself to my committee. It was the simple reminder that Jesus claims me.

Jesus claims YOU. Jesus claims each and every one of us as sons and daughters of God.