Me

There's a part of Sara Bareilles' King of Anything song that goes like this,
"All my life to make everyone happy, while I just hurt and hide, waiting for someone to tell me it's my turn to decide."

Not that I haven't had my share of decisions but I spend a considerable amount of energy doing things I think I SHOULD be doing. And if you know me, you know I hate that little S word. Should is so.... so... shitty.

For a while, I held onto the notion that if I was perfect, then people would love me. If I had enough energy to listen to everyone's problems (and solve them), then I would have value. I believed that I had to earn love by being worthy.. and that my worthiness was external.

After all, what is the greatest lesson of high school? If you smell funny, look funny, act funny, talk funny, etc, then you are not worthy of ANYTHING. And let me tell you, I was awkward in high school. (Weren't we all?) College was a bit better. I could be nerdy. But then I was Christian and that was seriously outside of the major pulse of the honors program I was in. But I got into some women's rights things and did Vagina Monologues with that group. I tried my hand at student government again. I got my call to go to seminary.

And in between college and seminary was this amazing little group of people that absolutely embraced me for all my quirks and oddities. I could be bitchy at the coffee shop. I could be silly with the girls I was nanny for. I could love my indie hippie music, be book smart but know next to nothing about politics, love Jesus, and be addicted to coffee. My world was bliss.

And it continued to get better in seminary. Parts of me that got squashed in high school and college were suddenly embraced and encouraged. (Old Post references this.) My time in theater came back, my poetry writing intersected in sermon writing, and being genuine and giving a shit was celebrated. Having to know foreign dignitaries, being a perfect 10 (8, 6...), listening to the "right" music, and justifying my faith all fell away. Or at least they started to. I'd still like to be a perfect 10 (or 8...) and I still find myself justifying my faith. But I began to be loved without all the things that I thought I had to have. I even fell in love and had someone love me back. I surrounded myself with the most amazing friends and professors and faculty at seminary.

Then there's Montana. It is here I am finally understanding what strange standards I've been holding myself up to for years without knowing it. None of the elders care what I say when I show up to visit, they care simply that I show up to visit. None of my parishioners nail me (pun intended) for stumbling over the Lord's Prayer or the words of institution, and my energy levels are not being measured on some salaried meter of merit.

For the first time in a long time, I feel free. Free to explore this ministry thing and tape it to my skin and see if it sticks. To dye a panel of my hair bright orange. To chop off my hair. To write sermons that challenge people. To tell people what I really think. To be exhausted. To be energized by new things. To be vulnerable. All of it is up for grabs.

I am licensed to be myself to the full extent that God has called me to be. God didn't call me to be perfect. God called me to be me. I'm just unlocking all the quiet places that are still undiscovered. It's lovely.

Excuses

They say that the thing you hate most in someone else, you usually hate most about yourself.

I hate excuses. Crappy reasons to justify doing or not doing something. A rationalization or justification to do something.

For instance, while I fully believe that women should be able to do what they want with their bodies, I hate when women get an abortion and say, "Well, I didn't mean to get pregnant." Seriously? That's your excuse? Or insert any number of condom/pill/other failed methods of preventing said pregnancy.

Or excuses we all give for not calling, for not visiting, for forgetting. Yes, we're all busy. Yes, we get distracted. But why do we make the excuses?

My friend from Germany said that it is especially bad in America. People that will say, "Yeah, yeah, we should definitely hang out." And then never do. Never call. Never follow through.

I've done it. We all do it. But WHY? Especially when we all know how crappy it is to be handed an excuse. To be handed a pathetic reason for missing a planned get together. And I'm not talking about emergencies. I mean, there have been several times I've planned on attending some party or dinner when I call the friend hosting and say, "I just can't... I'm just not in the mood." Some friends are able to coax me out of this introverted homebody tendency and get me out despite my protests but most just say they'll miss me and okay.

I'm not sure why we do it. But we do. A lot. Provide excuses for not doing things we don't want to do... instead of just saying we don't want to do them. Excuses for being too busy and missing an important meeting. I don't think my not wanting to hurt your feeling or being over scheduled is a good excuse.

Perhaps the solution is to say what we mean and to slow down more. To make the appointments we set. To show up. To call. To do.

*writes on To Do list "Make Pastoral Visits"*

*big sigh*

The Cost of Discipleship

Discipleship is one of those big churchy words that doesn't have much anchor in today's world. For me, it means following Christ. It means the disciples that left their fishing boats and fathers behind to follow Christ. No belongings. No internship. No contract with benefits.

Today, I am about 2,000 miles from the birth of a friend's second baby. I was there for the first.
Today, I am coordinating vigil for someone who is dying in the nursing home I work for.
Today, my heart is not here. 

This is not how I saw ministry going. Away from a birth, preparing for a death. Exhausted to the bone and still without a finished sermon for Sunday. Wondering how I can spend the rest of my life doing this and wondering how I can spend the rest of my life doing anything else. But this is where God has called me. So I'm here. But today, my heart will be in TN, celebrating the birth of a new child of God. A new little soul to love and cherish. A new little soul to miss with all my heart.

Comfort and Challenge

As I weigh and wear the responsibility of a pastor on my shoulders, I am struck with the task of comforting and challenging those that I minister to. Not only of figuring out when some need to be comforted and some need to be challenged, but of presenting the gospel in a way that allows for both - AT THE SAME TIME.

For me, the gospel has always been about both. There are times when I am down in the dumps, depressed, and just need to hear that God loves me. There are times when my life is steady, unchanged, and unchallenged. I go with the status quo, with the norm, and trudge through my days. That's when I need the wake up call that life is about a lot more than passing the time - and I've got a place in it.

So what do we do with this Christ who has arrived on the scene? With those wise men who traversed afar bringing gifts that proclaimed that Christ was king? With this figure who gets baptized and the skies open up? Where is the comfort and where is the challenge? And which, at this moment, do we need to hear?

You should watch "Dakota Skye"

Jonah: I still have the dream sometimes.

  
I do. I come home from the store
and find you on my doorstep 

with a suitcase.

  
And that's your entire wardrobe.

  
Just a carry-on, a duffel bag.

  
We don't say anything,

  
but you have this look
in your eye that kills me.

  
It just...

  
And I unlock the door and let you in.

  
And that's it.
That's the dream.

  
When I wake up, I wake up happy...

  
...vibrating for a few seconds
with my head in the sand...

  
...content.

  
[Sighs]

  
Then it goes away, and you go away.

  
I really don't want
to get out of bed then

  
because it's cold out there,

  
but I do.

  
I get up.
Life goes on.

  
[Exhales]

  
Most days you never
even cross my mind.