custer's first stand...

so my dad is here.

since wednesday.

and in the middle of all of this i have been working like a dog to get my friend's house market ready. she moved out of town about a year ago. the bankruptcy of her husband's "flip that house dreams" and some dalliance in infidelity on her part left them ashamed and quick to move on. they should have sold their home at that time, but didn't have the heart to kick their daughter out in her last year of university in our town, so it became a bit of a frat house. no real destruction, but lots of neglect. i needed the money and had the time, and have a huge heart for their story, and when pushed to admit it still very co-dependent with her. because she is 12 hours away i thought that i could help, when it still looked much more like rescue.

anyway - i finished yesterday and was downstairs doing laundry when my dad struck up a conversation about his new favorite tv preacher. ugh. tired and already itchy from his old-time-religious language in the five days we have been together i listened quietly. then he gave me his new book, he ordered 4 copies to make sure that everyone he loved had one. i was touched, but sensing the beginnings of the allergic reaction i have to that kind of conversation. he had his back to me as i thumbed through the book quickly trying to assess what stripe of religion this man was peddling.

self-taught, proof texting, itinerant guy who wants to teach everyone how to "interpret scripture" biblically. ugh. the hives begin to crawl over my skin and i can feel my throat start to contract. must get air....

and he goes on like he's found a new best friend. he is smitten, in love, a twitter. the only thing i can do when he asks me if it's what i believe and what i learned a 'bible college' is say that i have learned over the years that when people aren't building a theology in community you can make scripture say anything you want it to say. removed from the context of accountability (tried to use his language) there is a danger that can come from being a person with that much authority and no balance of responsibility. people like that can be dangerous and that is how cults can form. i said i knew nothing of him but can see from his book that he has never learned in community and isn't within a context of people and that makes me concerned that he could be dangerous.

well that set him off. he grabbed is big old fat bible, whipped it open and shaking threw it in my face - THE verse. the biggie. see i knew you didn't take this seriously anymore. read this, how can you do the things you do, preaching now - this verse tells you you are to be silent and ask you husband if you need to know anything...blah, blah, blah...

by this time i had sat down. and i knew that i had a choice. absolutely exhausted. filthy from work, stressed by having my safe home invaded and knowing that all of the work outside of my house had left my own in need of a lot of attention. i could choose to shut down like my programming had wired me to. know when to fold 'em, know when to hold 'em, know when to walk away... should have run. didn't fold.

i blasted him with both barrels - and once i got going there was NO way to stop.

i said every last thing i have wanted to say to him for 44 years. screeching, bawling, shaking my finger in his face. i was the banshee - and it felt so damn good.

"how can you who spends 23 hours a day watching television, goes to one hour of church a week, and it's even a church that doesn't even believe this shit. how can you come here and judge me, who has devoted herself to serving god since i was 13 years old? you don't know anything about me or my relationship with god. all i have ever wanted in my whole entire life is not big money, or fame or power - but just for you to once look at me and the life i live and say 'i don't get it, but i am so proud of you' - just once"

"if my preaching is a sin, then so is your judgment of me - you have no right to throw this at me, you don't live by this ugly theology and you never have - i lived every jot and tittle for 30 years of my life and you know what? it doesn't work - and you know it - you know that the house you raised me in wasn't that story book christianity you like to spew - you know that mom hated the silence even more than i did" bam, bam, bam.

it was never how i wanted it to happen, but i honestly can say that i don't regret it. i finally stood up to that man who has tried to keep my feet in those tiny, little shoes.

"YOU NEVER LOVED ME FOR WHO I WAS, you wanted a son, you never loved a daughter, you have never even honored the female parts of me that you always told me were all i had, my home, my family, my silence - you only ever acknowledged me for the male things i did, playing sports, killing animals, scraping their flesh off their bones - those were the only things you ever gave me attention for"

pink heard me 2 stories up. and i was so glad.

"for the past 10 1/2 years i have read the bible, every night before bed, 10 1/2 years! you think i wipe my butt with those pages, but i have devoted my life to those pages, it's all i have ever wanted and i am really good at it. peoples lives, even mens lives are changing because i am telling my story. in your paradigm i haven't even erred, my husband, my pastors, the leaders in my church - all of the people in the umbrella of authority i'm supposed to live my life under (his language, not mine) are inviting me to use the gifts that god has given me. they are all cheering for me - all except you - and guess what - you have given away any authority you have over my life to my husband and god loves me enough to not have me married to a cave man!"

i think i went on for about 5 straight minutes. then he looked at me, cocked his head and said "i guess you've been waiting a long time to tell me that. i think you'll sleep better tonight."

i think the volume and emotion actually cracked a bit in him that an honest conversation (like we had in oregon 2 summers ago - and i had intended to have again) wouldn't have. and it empowered me to know that i honestly really don't need his approval or support. he is a weak, small little man who i love deeply, but have given far too much power over me for far too long.

as i sat on the edge of my bed last night i remembered my word for this year - blaze. i smiled as i realized that the fire burns as it purifies.

i apologized after for the way in which i said those things and that i had wanted to hurt him for the hurt i had felt all of those years. he hugged me and told me that he tells everyone else how much he thinks of me. never could use the words, but i don't really need to hear them anymore.

i am proud of me and mom would be too.

fear factor

okay, i've just finished the post on my other blog about my day yesterday. and i'm having a lot of fear. i haven't owned this much of my own story and personal writing "in public" and under my own name before and it's freaking me out.

dang.

i know that this is a huge part of why i'm stalled lately. my fear of rejection and judgment is massive.

yesterday was so personal. so important. it would have been so natural to write about it here where i am safe. with all of you. the people who get it. the people who know me without knowing me. but there. there anyone could read it. there people from my past lives can access it. it's fed into my facebook profile. what have i done?

dang.

tears are streaming down my face. the temptation to delete it and repost it here is huge.

it's not like i've taken my clothes off and pranced around for all to see, but it really feels like i've left part of me there for people who "know/know" me to see. and judge. and reject. and talk about amongst themselves. leaving me out. and judging me. and saying mean things. and dang. why is this so hard?

why is being me so much easier to do when no one is looking?

homosexuality

i have been blogging for nearly five years here now and i have chosen to avoid this subject for a couple of reasons. first being i am no expert. second being this subject cuts very close to home for me. third is probably just not wanting to weather a troll storm in my comments or just plain lack of courage, but i have come to realize too late that my silence needs to be broken.

as a recovering sexual addict i have spent far too much of my life with my nose pressed up against the rough edges of life. i haven't written about my sexual addiction in quite some time, mostly because i have had 7 1/2 blessed years of abstinence that i cherish deeply and probably don't want to "jinx" it. i don't believe that's really true when i write it, but sometimes we get superstitious and don't really even know it.

in the past few months i have crossed paths with some amazing new bloggers. most of them are recovery men who happen to be gay. i love gay men. i really do. penni and i have said many times that they are the best friends a wounded woman could have. they live out of a beautiful place in their souls - and usually they've been wounded along their path too, so they just plain "get it".

i am writing about this now because much of the woundedness i see happens at the hands of the church in the name of a very vengeful, atrocious god. it breaks my heart.

as a woman raised in a female hating denomination i had that god on my back for most of my life too. the worst part of spiritual abuse is that the very comforter who should be there when the rest of life turns on you is taken away and made into the one who orchestrated it all. instead of finding comfort from god those of us with vast boatloads of shame are told that the shame is there because we're so screwed up and that god created that shame to get our attention so that we will behave in the way that we're supposed to. it's a really f-ed up logic, but to a child raised in a strict, religious home we're too naive and wounded already that we just can't tease apart the error.

the best part of my recovery journey has been the line from the step 3 "god as i understand him." somehow that gave me permission to begin to peel back the edges of the rigid doctrine i had been raised with and start to question. what i saw was an ugly idol. as sick and twisted as the old testament idols we were warned about. maybe, just maybe this wasn't really god. maybe, just maybe my understanding, and the understanding of those who hurt me so was WRONG. maybe. it's what i'm devoting the next two years of my life to. it will hopefully be my thesis.

maybe that idol needs to be pulled off it's altar so that we can fully find a real god who truly sets us free and is worthy of our devotion.

why this theology stop in a post about homosexuality? it's who i am. a sexual addict who loves theology and i adore the god i've found in recovery. and i so long for others to find that god too.

you see i think the church uses homosexuality as a red herring. i'll shake the red flag over here to divert your eyes so that you don't see my sexual brokenness. i know that in my own life the times i was overly concerned with other people's bedrooms/sexual lives/behaviors was when mine was helter skelter all over the place (mostly in the gutter).

can we all just agree that god wants us all to be more sexually healthy than we are today? whatever that looks like. please, can we stop shaming other people because our own shame is so great and looming that we feel like we need to spread it around?

there isn't some great dividing line that says my sexual brokenness is okay with god and that person's over there isn't. we're all broken. we all need redemption. we all need a god who is big enough to help us heal. let's stop wagging fingers in peoples faces and start to sit with our own brokenness. we all struggle at some level with self acceptance, intimacy and wholeness. homosexual marriage doesn't threaten your family. your own sexual brokenness threatens your family. focus on your own damn family and stop using others as an issue to assuage your guilt.

we who call ourselves christ followers must, in the most honest places of our souls, acknowledge that we know that jesus sat with all who were sexually wounded and offered friendship, healing and hope. how dare we say that there are those who must heal themselves before they can experience the grace of god?

shame on us.

us.

of all people we should be the most understanding - but we're so afraid to acknowledge our own sexual sin/fantasies/behavior that we can't even afford ourselves the grace god extends to us for our own sexual healing.

please understand that i am in no way saying that i expect that jesus will heal anyone of homosexuality. i make no claim/stand/opinion on this - i just know that each of us needs to be more healed and healthy than we we are now. if that healing is found in a committed homosexual relationship before god that is none of my business and i glory in the fact that it's not mine to judge. i want to live a life that accepts, embraces and invites others to the healing i have found and continue to grow in.

if you have been wounded by the god of the religious right i am so sorry. for whatever role i played in that crazy mixed up world i repent. and i invite you to begin to pray, to a kinder, gentler god and ask to have the lies removed, to clear away the error, to do away with the hate and begin to feel the love and peace promised. that prayer continues to be answered in my life and i truly believe it will be in yours too.

here's something my friend steve wrote that might help those of us raised with that right wing god and need to learn to open our hearts and have more mercy and grace:

ragamuffin ramblings: what i wish straight christians knew

pondering on patriarchy

yesterday i was invited to write a woman i deeply respect and admire. i told her my story and knew that she would understand at least part of it because she was raised in the denomination that i grew up with. it was very cathartic. i longed to express my deep love for her and her husband because they helped me come out and away from that very backward world.

while i was writing i stumbled upon the idea that the demanding patriarchy my parents fell into when they converted to christianity caused a lot of confusion for not only me, but for both of my parents too. if you've ever read back into my archives you will know that my pseudonym here is my own mother's name. i am writing in her name to honor the words she was never able to own, speak or write. she entered the world of the silent and head covered when she was just shy of 30 and died when she was 43. neither of my parents had ever given any thought to 'creation order' or 'biblical hierarchy' before that time, they just found god and wanted to please him. they were told that this would make him happy and did their damnedest to follow along.

i realized as i wrote yesterday that this damaged their souls too. neither one of them "fit" the code or knew the rules. my mother was as passionate and outspoken as i am and my father was so content and happy behind the scenes helping everywhere he could. both of them were squeezed, prodded and shamed into becoming something at church that neither of them had the skills, spiritual gifts or natural inclination to be. respect for themselves and each other plummeted. and i could sense it like they sent of pheromones of falseness and fear, panic and confusion.

because my father wouldn't/couldn't "take leadership" in the home and at church, both my mother and i thought less of him, but i'm sure not nearly as little than he saw himself. because my mother and i just couldn't seem to pull off the shut-up and submit routine we lost respect in his eyes too, but again, not nearly as much as we lost in our own.

i began to wonder if the shame this type of enforced hierarchy brings imprisons not only the women forced into it, but also the men themselves.

the loss of confidence, the questioning of self, the assumed condemnation from your community and the wall that slowly builds between the self and god. what have we constructed?

i wrote in that letter yesterday about the little white box with the avocado carpet and the gold upholstered pews being the box that trapped god in. then i realized that i have always felt like a square peg in a round hole until i found the emergent discussion and the blogosphere. i realized that that little white box had defined me too. i finished that letter by telling her that she and her husband helped me kick down the walls of that box until i realized that i am me-shaped - no round, no squares, and definitely no boxes.

i hope that one day i can talk to my father and help him begin to dismantle that little white box too, so he can be free and get to know himself and god in a brand new way.

dear patriarchy

bob at the corner linked to this letter/article written by science fiction/fantasy writer elizabeth bear. she writes:

Dear Patriarchy:

I don’t care what you think.

I’m not here to convert you. I’m not here to enlighten you. I’m not here to try to earn your respect. I don’t need it.

I am not scared of you.

You see, I can win without you. I can make a living without you. I can reach a broad readership of women–yes, and men too! lots of men! men who are enlightened, and emotionally secure!–without you. It’s really kind of awesome. After fifteen years working in corporate America, actually, where I usually had to do what a particular type of authoritarian men wanted if I wanted to keep my job, these days, I can pick the audience I care to appeal to.

nolove, Bear.

wow. this is so powerful i think i'm going to write my own! she ends the article with this line:

Because nothing is more terrifying to an extant power structure than a frictionless surface. And the magic of it all is that they have no power over me.

i think that is one of the things the internet has done to/for the church - it has made the kingdom a frictionless surface - the women sitting under neanderthal teaching have access to truth now - they can't build the walls high enough anymore. and there are no footholds on this frictionless surface for them to stand and abuse anymore.

they have no power over me. i LOVE that phrase. i found out last week from my aunt that my father freaked out when she told my aunt that i was preaching at church, right in the middle of a restaurant, which is so not his style. i joked with her he'd rather tell his conservative friends who ask about me that i have backslidden and am a crack whore than i am using my gifts in the church and god forbid "teaching men"...

dear patriarchy,

the walls of power you have built in the church can no longer hold me in, keep me down or silence me. you have no power here, the kingdom of god is bigger than the fortress you have built to keep us in check. you tried to keep us making the coffee, cooking and cleaning up and making you fat with our meals.

i am not afraid of you. i don't need you anymore. there are women and men who love jesus all over the world who know the truth now. you can't stop this because we're taking our wallets with us. your source of income will dwindle to the size of your small, shrunken hearts.

and just so you know, it really is awesome out here, you're welcome to join us, the kingdom is wide and deep and full of life. you will have to set down your power though. it doesn't work here. you see true kingdom life is the kryptonite to patriarchy. jesus came to set the captives free. and we are free indeed.

no love, bobbie

question and answers - part two

one of the bloggers who always makes me think outside the box, kristen noelle asked:

Have you had a chance to visit any soup kitchens? If so, what kinds of thoughts or feelings were evoked?

i remember visiting the famous "Pacific Garden Mission" in downtown chicago as a teenager. it was a very "us and them" situation to me at that time. the smell was overwhelming and all i could think of was how long before we got to leave.

facing my own addictions and living under crushing debt and in a situation where we had no options but the food back during our first time in ministry i realized there is no "us and them" in my life. we were one bad debt away from loosing everything. we probably wouldn't have been homeless as liam's family would have taken us in, but i know that the church we were killing ourselves for wouldn't have stood by us at all. they promised us when they hired him "part time" that we wouldn't starve. i think they invited us to their homes about 6 times in 30 months and like i said we were eating out of the foodbank. we starved in more ways than one.

this was where the seed was planted for this ministry dream. we had sold our house at a loss, moved away from family, had 2 kids under 4 and all we wanted to do was 'serve jesus'... in no time we were in a deep financial hole. as we slowly climbed out of it i remember being at the grocery store and seeing the donation boxes for the foodbank. a penny dropped and i began to ponder a better way.

at the same time i had begun reading henri nouwen. he wrote in one of his books (i think it might have been reaching out, but i can't be sure) about the idea that our western world is so full of people talking about doing things and never really getting things done. i knew i was one of those westerners. i hated that about myself. so i decided to take his advice. he called it 'furnacing' - allowing our ideas to be ours and god's and to spend time thinking about them instead of talking about them, and pouring the steam created by the excitement back into to project and allowing that to propel us farther on in the doing.

it was then that i decided to begin to furnace the idea of the foodbank. i worked on it in secrecy for 5 years. it became a wonderful dream, i designed logos, brainstormed contacts and prepared it all to the point of not having anything left to do except hand it away.

i told god that it was ready and i was willing to give it to anyone to do - (this is a HUGE project, not just a single foodbank, but a total revamp for feeding people with dignity and creativity). i told god i would wait until he told me who to hand it to.

it wasn't a month later that he did. he told me to give it to tony campolo. i laughed out loud. i knew i had misunderstood. i keep waiting and nothing else ever came. tony is one of my heroes. i literally would have followed him around the country with a little notepad writing down everything he said. i had never heard anyone speak so clearly about the heart of god, helping those in need and actually putting feet to the gospel.

i knew he would be at the national youth workers convention in pittsburgh that year, so i told god "fine, you won't give me any other names, then you have to work this out - you have to introduce me."

i went to every one of tony's seminars. after each session he is so kind and he stays to speak to anyone who will wait. i would stand to the side and so many pushy, male (sorry guys) youth workers just had to tell him something or other. i just couldn't get a word in edgewise. after the second seminar i looked at the front row and sitting there was peggy, tony's wife. she is a dear, sweet, spunky woman and i decided to make her acquaintance.

after introducing myself i asked if she could tell me how to get his attention. she told me that one page typed, no more, sent to his office at the school with an overview of what i wanted him to know would be the best way. i thanked her and left him to the swarms of pushy youth workers.

that same week tony's son bart's ministry, mission year had a booth in the exhibit hall. one of the goals of exhibitors is to get addresses for their mailing list. to do this a lot of the booths give away free ipods, laptops, gamecubes, etc. well mission year was having a 'free lunch with tony campolo'. i saw that and thought 'okay god, i'm calling your bluff, if this is real (and trust me i doubted it with nearly ever fiber of my being) i need to win that lunch.

you had to be on site during the draw to win. i found out when i got there there would be four winners. they picked the names and the final entry wasn't present. i was so disappointed. i really wanted it to be real. the girl reached into the bowl and pulled my name out.

i got to have lunch with tony and peggy, and three other very pushy youthworkers (i know you all aren't, but how could someone sit at lunch with tony campolo and decide that what they had to say was more important than what he or peggy had to say?? they commandeered the whole conversation) but i didn't care. i knew the lunch wasn't the time to get his attention, i just wanted confirmation. and i got it. i knew that when i said "i am the red haired woman you had lunch with in pittsburgh" he would know who i was.

i got home, typed up my one page, put it in a big, official envelope and mailed it away. i dusted off my hands and thought "good, now that is DONE". about 10 days later i had a letter from tony telling me that he loved my idea, i was to put together my board and enroll at eastern for their module masters degree in microbusiness where we would make this the project for the year and get it off the ground.

i shook, i cried, i called those who were in my tribe. i was dumbfounded. now i had to talk to my husband. in his defense (which by the way, he has repented of all of this, but at the time it was dastardly indeed) we had just moved to a new, huge church and had two pre-school aged children. he nay-sayed and bemoaned the possibilities that this could be real, that this could be god and that this could be for me. with my background i had two HUGE hurdles to overcome, patriarchy and the silent god. if the 'head of the household said no it meant no' and who was i to think that god really spoke to me?

i folded. i had no idea how to tell him i wasn't who he thought i was. it must have all been a mistake. the door slammed shut and i never even wrote him back to at least say thank you. it is the biggest regret of my life.

but i know that god is the god of second chances, and this idea really has legs. i don't know if it is for now, and looking back it probably wasn't for 'then' either - but it is really good and god did speak to me, and one of my heroes spoke truth into my life in a way i will never forget.

so while it might not ever look like i dreamed, the seed to feed the hungry has been placed deep within my soul and i know that it is a call on my life. thank you kristen for your question and encouragement. i need it. it's a lonely call and not immediately gratifying. you can see from above that i get easily discouraged. i need stamina and steam and a tribe. if you are the praying type please pray for me. i truly long to fulfill this and put it into the hands of those who can take this dream and make it a reality.

links-a-lot

two thought provoking articles on sex and patriarchy i wanted to give you a head's up on:

Indulgences, MSM Bias & Evangelical Patriarchy over at Christian Egalitarians

and

Abstinence, Sex Education, Rape, Desire and Who Ought to be Wearing a Millstone by Hugo Schwyzer over at CBE Scroll

the benguines

i have stumbled across one of the most inspiring spiritual ideas i think i have ever found and cannot seem to find any tangible information on this subject. there was an intentional community of women in the early 1200's called the benguines. i had never heard of them previously and am searching for any links, books or articles anyone can provide. there is one piece of art entitled the benguines at prayer and an article on beatrice of nazareth that i have found, but there is little else online.

i am going to quote here bits from the book i've been reading by david james duncan called 'god laughs and plays' (pgs. 96-99) and hope nobody minds. i have so few icons and spiritual heroes to emulate. these women and their passion stirs my own. (i have left out the political references duncan uses as i don't find them helpful for my purposes here.)

"A sustaining spiritual community would be a self-sustaining physical community rooted in its own particular soil and watershed, with its own idiosyncratic expression of universal spiritual truths. To my mind, such a community might look a bit like an Amish community, physically, if it was rural. But an ever better model might be an updated version of the medieval Beguines.

The Beguines...were communities of what I would call "feminist mystics" that rose up in the Rhine Valley before and during the time of my greatest Christian hero, Meister Eckhart, and spread all over Europe. The Beguines had several great leaders - all of them women, all experiential mystics - and many powerful allies in the church, chief among them the incomparable Eckhart. The Benguines had a daily devotional life which was taken very seriously, but differed from the life led by nuns in that they lived comparatively free of the church, and right out there "in the world." Beguine women lived on their own private property, not Roman Church property - which was stupendously freeing for them, and they prospered because of it.

Their independence was fierce, but so, in the spirit of Christ, was their generosity. They raised their own food, they educated the local children, they took care of the sick and dying, they took in orphans, and, like Echkart - they read and unpacked the Bible to everyday people in their native tongues, so that the example of Jesus could be understood and emulated by all. Their communities were both self-sustaining and woven into the society at large, and they were of huge benefit to society. Yet they were based on experiential mysticism - or, to use your term, "the communal expression of spiritual wonder."

The church of the day, however, the STRUCTURE, was a Rome-based patriarchy uncomfortable with the existence of women at all, let along self-giving, heroic, Christ-adoring women who expressed their spiritual wonder in the striking manner of the great Beguine mystics - or any women mystics. Here's Pope Gregory the XIII holding forth on a certain mystic, for example: "Theresa of Avila...is a filthy and immoral nun who is indecent in the highest degree and simply uses her busy efforts...as an excuse for indulging in her dissipated lusts."

The passion, power, and beneficence generated by the Beguines showed good ol' boys like Pope Greg to be the power-drunk misogynists they were. Which enraged them. So down came the Iron Bible of the Inquisition, ka-thunk! The Beguines and Beguinages were crushed mercilessly, their greatest leaders imprisoned or burned at the stake, their brilliant mystical texts and poems and songs of love burned with them, their mercies and loving service revoked, the poor and sick whom they'd served turned back out on the streets, their homeless followers sent to nunneries or ghettos.

The Beguines' teachings and joys were so mercilessly eradicated that I'll bet not one in a thousand modern Christian (he uses Adventist) women have heard of them. And this haunts me. I can't help but feel that if women in Europe and the Americas had been encouraged to study and celebrate the lives of communitarian example of these loving, creative females of their own Christian tradition - the "filthy and immoral nun" of Avila, Hadewijch of Brabant, Mechtild of Magdeburg, and Marguerite Porette (burned at the stake by men for her beautiful love of God), to name just a few - we may have gotten a better handle on what my Korean pen pal calls "the REAL ONE BEING deep in their each one's heart,"...

...In the five centuries since the destruction of the Beguine communities and posthumous excommunication of Eckhart, mysticism has died as a popular force within Christian culture. I believe this loss of mystical vitality goes a long way toward explaining how Christianity has become so splintered and politicized, and the rest of the Western world so secularized. Without applied mysticism and Christ-like giving and living saints and angels and heroic poverty, chastity and obedience, Christianity becomes rote, heartless, and BORING! People sense this - the idealistic and gifted young, especially, sense it - and leave the faith.

What excites me about this state of affairs is the fact that divine desperation sometimes drives people to acts of great spiritual creativity. And, so far as I can see, there is no longer any Inquisitorial-type institution in place to prevent Benguinages, or something very like them, from forming once again. The tribes' recovery efforts and the Celtic and Breton resurgences show us that the five-hundred-year distance between us and the Beguines is not unbridgeable.

Especially not if, as I believe, we have no choice. I feel, I've always felt, that American and European women are exceptionally spirited, and that our men become lost, evil or just dull as hell without them. I'm sexist in this way. I sense that, in the next hundred years or so, Western women are going to do amazing things in terms of "communal expression of spiritual wonder." And Western men and the world will end up in wildly better shape because of it. Our lack of community is intensely painful. .. Without genuine spiritual community life becomes a struggle so lonely and grim that even Hillary Clinton has admitted "it takes a village." I meet a lot of men and women who want to do something about this - but the women tend to be more fired up about it, in part because the best qualities of women are largely banished from the mainstream industrial culture, in part because most women are not so big into beer, chips and football."

dear god, may i please have some of that divine desperation.

you don't just have a body, you ARE a body

awoke early to a quiet, christmas light filled home. so i lit my candles and sat in silence, waiting. it was a beautiful way to start the day.

after my knees gave out i sat on the stool, bemoaning the creaks i felt from the fall i took the other day. still so thankful nothing broke, but feeling every one of my 41 years.

i moved over to the computer and opened my email. each day i start with the storypeople. today's message said that he gets along much better with his relatives now that most of them are dead. it made me smile.

then i moved on to the newsletter from CBE - christians for biblical equality. they are a voice crying in the wilderness for me. i clicked on their newsletter and saw that this one focused on eating disorders and the church, body image and raising ourselves and our daughters to be engaged with their appetites, both sexual and regarding food. those two always go hand in hand.

i will link to all of the rich and wonderful articles here so you don't miss any, but i want to highlight the largest ah-ha i had this morning (many more will follow) that said "you don't just have a body, you are a body". obvious, eh? not for me.

the dualism that we, especially in the church, view our bodies with nears gnostic heretical proportions. did you know that rates for eating disorders are higher at christian colleges than others? something is drastically wrong with our theology and the way we are raising our girls.

i am a body. it's supposed to be that way. god made me that way. light bulb.

shocking that at 41 it had never occurred to me that it was not just a necessary evil, but that it's where i am, and the holy spirit is to dwell. it's always felt like two separate things. my body was (is, if i am really honest with myself) a curse. something that traps the real me inside who so longs to be free. lots of maintenance and much shame is associated with it. like i said in a post months ago, in my world women were either cooking meat or a piece of meat. there was no in between in my childhood.

i am a body.

i think i started to understand this a bit when i was pregnant with my kids. it was the first, and really, again, if i'm honest, the only times i have ever felt present in my body for extended periods of time. reading that back i realize how very lame (and sad) that is. i know much of what these articles explain is so necessary for me to understand. remedial, basic principles are necessary to re-wire the messed up circuitry in my head.

realizing things like this re-ignites the anger and betrayal i feel toward those in power in the church. i want them to have to answer for the mess they've made. disengaging generations of women from their bodies, the bodies god intended for them to inhabit and indwell, animate and engage the universe in. now you're reaping what you have sown. brokenness, confusion, inability to engage, addiction and even death. i hope it tastes like dust, cobweb filled dust.

i am a body. you can't take that away from me now. i will teach it to every woman, girl, boy and man i am able to. you are a body too. god meant it that way.

here are the articles from the newsletter:

• editors note - megan gruelich

• sheltering the body - lillian calles barger

• the church, sexuality and eating disorders - cissy brady-rogers

• body issues among the body - malia k.h. freeburg

• modesty - a word for boys and girls - marissa cwick

• disordered eating in the church - joy elasky fleming and bruce c.e. fleming

all artwork is done by eric nykamp of eyekons - read his story here:

about the artist

seattle protest - dec 3rd

great thoughts from shari mac donald on the upcoming seattle protest of the "wee-man woman haters club" here:

they thinks we doest protest too much

if you are in the northwest i encourage you to join. information here:

people against fundamentalism

UPDATE: rose madrid-swetman has blogged of the sit-down, face to face meeting held nov. 30th, so has mark driscoll. i must say that this turn of events makes my heart glad. i hope the protest continues as planned as they are using his own words to remind those in his pews of the damage they have had. i pray the future of the woman haters club and that it also grows into maturity to see the true potential that the other half of the kingdom of god truly has.

UPDATE #2 - wow - that was fast, as soon as i posted the above i checked my email and the link for people against fundamentalism cancellation of the protest because their objectives had been met.

wow! this was a beautiful way of drawing attention to this ugliness - i am so glad paul's courage and foresight has brought about such progress. thank you for standing up against this!

godmen: promiskeepers with an edge?

hugo has an amazing post on the article in newsweek about a new movement beginning in nashville called godmen. the article, "Real Men Talk About God, A new Christian movement lets guys be guys". it features a glimpse of the first event that hopes to one day grow into a movement within the church as a whole. i was unfamiliar with this group, but i know it won't be under the radar much longer with this article.

When the GodMen band seized the stage again, they tore into an anthem called “Grow A Pair!”: “We’ve been beaten down/ Feminized by the culture crowd,” they sang. “No more nice guy, timid and ashamed/ We’ve had enough, cowboy up/ In the power of Jesus name/ Welcome to the battle/ A million men have got your back/ Jump up in the saddle/ Grab a sword, don’t be scared/ Be a man, grow a pair!” Said Tholstrup, as he surveyed the crowd: “If 200 men are feeling this, other men are feeling it too.” Which ought to provide enough testosterone for plenty of GodMen gatherings to come.

hugo writes:

If there's one thing I loathe above all else it's the appropriation of the language of the oppressed by the oppressors themselves; all the Godmen are adding to this tired mix is the apparent imprimatur of our Savior Himself. According to the Godmen, Jesus didn't come to build a "peaceable Kingdom". He came, it seems, to restore traditional gender roles and act as a Savior to that most noxious of cultural archetypes, the "hen-pecked husband" in danger of drowning in feminist rhetoric.

Scripture calls us to war. But it is not a war to be fought by men only, and it is a war to be fought with prayers, not swords. And war is, in the end, only a metaphor for the intense struggle we all fight on behalf of peace. Paul, in Ephesians 6:

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

Paul's audience would have known better than any modern one what a shield and a helmet looked and felt like. And the shields and helmets and swords Paul speaks of are entirely spiritual, to be used in congruence with a gospel of peace. Paul and Jesus take classic symbols of masculine aggression and artfully turn them into tools for building a peaceful, just world. For Paul and Christ, means and ends are radically, divinely congruent: peace is built peacefully with the shield of faith and a sword of the Spirit. To mistake the physical sword for the spiritual one is an old and tragic mistake, one that Christians have been making since, oh, the early fourth century.

read the whole post here: Cowboy Up for Christ: the Godmen, muscular Christianity, porn, and saddle imagery

rules against everything

i was reading over at scott's blog the other day and came across this post where he quotes a comment wendy cooper left on another post. i found it really thought provoking and remembered my youth, time at camp and bible college and i think i even heard myself make some of these rules when i was "in charge" at camp or various youth groups. i think it merits some further thought:

“Growing up I was taught that it was always the women’s fault. When someone was molested, raped, or whatever… she must have done something to provoke they guy into doing it. The idea that a man would have the ability to control himself was alien. At church this kind of attitude was reinforced by hearing guys say they couldn’t worship if a women at church looked “too hot” or something similarly stupid. When I got to college, I was told that and off the shoulder sweater that showed a bit of my one shoulder should not be worn as it turned on some of the other students. Again the idea was reinforced that men could not control themselves and it was my fault..

In college, the topics of sex, masturbation, and pornography was talked about openly but very little if any was talked about healthy interaction between men and women. Even if it was, it was undermined by the rules against how women should dress or rules against sweat pants just in case a guy got aroused (I am serious). Instead of talking about it, they just created rules against everything.”

what do you think?

Five Things Feminism has Done for Me

christy at dry bones dance meme'd me a couple of days ago, and it's a hard one for me. i've been sitting with it, and because it's rainy, i've got my period and i'm so pissed at my husband right now i think i'm ready to tackle this subject. sorry if it comes out all edgy, but i need to vent. this isn't much of a list, i'm not much of a feminist, but i am desperately trying to figure out what it means to be female and a woman apart from what the church or sex industry has told me.

Five Things Feminism has Done for Me:

1. the closest i ever got to feminism in my childhood was watching 'suffering till suffrage' on schoolhouse rock or the 'sister suffragette' song mrs. banks sings in mary poppins while they yell 'votes for women'. i was raised in middle america in very conservative christian background that grew out of a culture of playboy and pornography. the images from my childhood either made women meat or had them cooking meat. there was no in-between. the pendulum went from one extreme to the other. I was raised in the town where Hugh Hefner had his Playboy Resort. I can remember going out to dinner and having it served by women forced to wear stilettos, bunny ears and a cotton tail on their ass. i was probably six.

by seven we were in church and at camp and women were silent with their heads covered. my formation of all that is female was distorted and warped from a very early age. the amazing women on sesame street and the bionic woman were probably the only role models i was ever given that weren't these two extremes - but they still were caricatures of what a woman truly is.

2. in fourth grade ms. able came to our school from atlanta georgia. MS. in our little k-8 school she made quite a few waves. my mother had to demonize her quickly so she didn't have any influence over me at all. i think she was the embodiment of everything my mother wanted to be and she hated her for it. somehow though i was the little girl who got invited to sleep overs regularly at her home to play with her daughter (who went to the school in town, but we were in the same grade). ms. able fascinated me. i would love to reconnect with her someday.

in her own way she showed me that women could crack a mold (although looking back she wasn't much of a bra-burner herself - but my mother would say the word 'feminist' like she had something icky in her mouth when describing her.) and be something outside of what the church kept telling me i had to be.

3. my next brush would have been in high school where three of my teachers were lesbians. they were never out or vocal about their lifestyle. it was just 'known' and 'whispered' among the students. one was a speech teacher and two were gym teachers. i was a jock. one was my basketball coach and one was my volleyball coach. they were partners. i hated one and loved the other. i thought them brave, sad, but brave. i didn't think i could have ever endured such mocking jokes and hurtful things said about me. i don't know that they would have considered themselves feminists, but looking back i would say that they did not allow others to define their female-ness. they were probably just as confused as i was, (am) but being adults they were more formed in their lifestyles. i admired their courage.

it was also at this time that heart & fleetwood mac were prominent in the music industry and in my life. they cracked the box for me in some areas and began to chip away at what i had been told was true of women. they were strong voices and while it was only singing along their words started to become my own.

4. from high school i went to four years of bible college at the silent and head covered school - so women, especially the wives of the faculty were mostly bubble heads. some were amazing women, but none of them were living up to their full potential. it must mean something that i noticed this while still there. i'm trying for all i'm worth to think of any media that could have influenced me to think more highly of women, but i think back in the 80's women were still pretty stereo-typed into lame roles and sex objects.

5. motherhood and having a daughter has probably been the best thing that could ever have happened to me. wanting so much more for her than i was ever allowed. it forced me to begin to kick at the darkness and see what was outside of this box i had trapped myself in. pregnancy & breastfeeding put me in touch with my own body in a way that i had never been before. it made me present somehow in my own skin. watching her grow has made me ferociously guard her from ever limiting herself, or allowing anyone else limit her from fulfilling her dreams. my theology has gone though major transformations too because of this.

and here i sit, i didn't shave my armpits all summer because it put me in touch with a part of myself i had never allowed to exist before. it sounds so strange but it was one of the most empowering things i've ever allowed myself to do. and i want to erase it. delete it. but i will own it here. i have gotten the book 'women who run with wolves' recently and looked through it - haven't read it yet - but long to. i want to run with wolves, but i am so afraid. sore afraid.

so it's a pretty weak list. i love people like arianna huffington and her 'becoming fearless' mission - i want to be fearless. i long to live fully woman, fully human, fully alive. i know that so many women have paved this road in front of me, for all of them i am truly grateful. i say your names with honor and gratitude. feminism is no longer a dirty word in my vocabulary. i will one day be able to own it for myself.

what does sexism say about god?

oh you know how i love the sister:

Kiko and Couric: Whew, that was close | National Catholic Reporter Conversation Cafe - Sister Joan Chittester:

"From where I stand, the answer is clear. It's not only what sexism says about women that's wrong. It's what sexism says about God that is the problem. Sexism says that femaleness is the only thing in creation before which God is powerless. It says that the God who parted the Red Sea, drew water from a rock and raised the dead to life goes impotent before a woman. It says that the only substance on earth that God cannot or will not work through is a female. Poor God."

read whole article here.

finally!

i received an email yesterday from the head of the program we start in the fall (who is also the pastor at the church we are attending). he just returned from the summer term in europe with the students and had a chance to listen to liam's teaching from a couple of weeks ago. he was so encouraging and excited. it's great to have he and his wife home. the part of the email that jumped out at me was him asking if i would consider teaching on a sunday in the fall. me. oh it's good to be involved in a place where i am a person too!

so i begin to prepare in my head. where to start? so many things i've wanted to say over 40 years? i feel like i've been granted a 'make a wish' wish. some people pick disneyland. i pick this. i literally have waited my whole life for this. it sounds insane doesn't it? but it's real and i am excited.

The CBE Scroll » (Trans)Gender and Science

this is so sad!

The CBE Scroll » (Trans)Gender and Science

patriarchy and pornography - part ii

stephanie has opened up a whole can of worms for me lately - her past two posts weight and gender and more gender questions are taking me places i haven't been wanting to go lately. i tried to respond on my other blog and found i couldn't be as honest under my 'real name' as i would have liked to be - so i set it aside. now i know i must face these issues. stuffing them, eating them and ignoring them aren't going to get me anywhere.

i have found many new plants to grow in that garden i spoke of (another garden metaphor...) on the grid blog for international womens day. i wrote:

patriarchy has planted and nurtured most of the plants in my garden. their roots go very deep. my hammer looks more like a machete some days - whacking away at the branches and leaves that overshadow everything else i try to plant. i can nurture it for a moment, for a small season, but then the well established roots catch up to me and i am left in the shadows again. too exhausted to care any more. too ashamed for even wanting this small life to grow on it's own.

the thought of a hammer makes me violent, smashing and crashing to release some of this deep, dark anger and rage i have against the machine. i realize it will make me no more than those who have made me this way. violence will solve nothing however tempting it would be to crush that which has wounded my very soul.

so, i am turning in my hammer for a plowshare to clear out these roots, once and for all, get to the bottom of that ugly theology that has made these plants that overshadow everything else i try to plant. remove them, shred them, burn the seeds so they cannot take root ever again. and maybe pink will grow up without them too. nurturing her own plants and bringing life to what god has planted inside of her.

i need to do some clearing out of the old plants - there is nowhere to plant the new ones that is clear enough and exposed enough for those tender new plants to survive. so i must root out the old, and i guess that happens for me with words - writing about it, asking questions, uncovering the questions to ask, and plain old allowing myself to get angry and sad and face the truth and allow myself to grieve it and then sit and allow the new plants time to grow. silence, prayer, writing and acknowledging my emotions on these issues (patriarchy and pornography) is my only way through.

and i am angry. really angry. these two issues have shaped and distorted my life more than any other issue except for my relationship with god - and the fact that that is marred by P&P is what makes me just want to explode.

you see, i bought in - i believed it all. i loathe that i was so easily manipulated and formed by it, but it has truly made me who i am today. spiritual formation is a powerful thing - anything can become a spiritual discipline. silence is one of the most treasured of all spiritual disciplines. sitting in the presence of god in expectation - oh what joy and rapture. but when that is distorted like it was in my church of origin - silence no longer becomes a tool, but a weapon.

and not only was i to be silent, but god was too. who did i think i was that i would merit a word from god - the written word from god was the ONLY WORD FROM GOD. so silence was pointless, useless, just a cause for creating a fantasy life to keep myself from utter boredom and sheer desperation. how totally cruel to make half the kingdom (at least the only part i knew) silent, but to then take away any input from god - it was sick, twisted and wrong and it makes me want to hurt someone. the anger deep in my soul is so vile. all i ever wanted, please understand me, all i ever wanted was to please god. to serve god. to be obedient. i was truly silent, my head was covered, my heart was even covered. while i was in that place i was there trying for all i was worth to please god. i didn't fight, question or challenge. that would have been sin, and the deepest place of my heart has always been to please god.

so i sat. in silence. and heard god. and pushed the voice away. do you understand how much they stole from me? i thought i was crazy. hearing voices. god was SILENT JUST LIKE ME. then why did i hear his voice? i fought that voice my whole life. thinking i was crazy. the level of distortion is cult-like in it's control and influence over my young, eager soul. THEY WILL PAY FOR THIS at the foot of god one day. they stole from me and i want it back. i want them to pay. i want to take that hammer instead of that plowshare and bash them all to bits. the anger is so deep and so strong that i feel it overpowering me as i type. i am reduced to a puddle and trying to keep from keening.

what happens when a church makes a young girl feel like she is insane?

patriarchy and pornography

stephanie at just etchings is doing some important work on her blog right now. this quote is so good i just can't let go of it and wanted to honor it here too:

The war on women is not a war of men against women. We naively assume that this war has been declared by and caused by men. That’s the big lie! This war is being fought against both sexes, against all of us. Men are not the author of this war, Satan is. This cause of the war on women is Satan, who uses the fallen powers and principalities of this world to keep us in oppressive traditions and structures. Jesus has taught us to know that the enemy is always the Enemy! Pg 106/107

Both man and woman participated in the Fall. Adam and Eve were both responsible (Gen 3:6; Rom 5:15-21; 1 Cor 15:21-22). A direct result of the Fall, gender mutuality was disrupted and woman became dependent on man and man became an authority over women. Sin, not God, destroyed the partnership between man and woman. Patriarchy is worshipping the curse. Pg 109

Calling Patriarchy God’s will is like calling pornography God’s will. The analogy between patriarchy and pornography is quite fitting because the two are very similar in their effects. Pornography objectifies persons by turning them into property to be owned, demeans the feminine, trivializes sexuality, and perpetuates violence toward women. This is precisely what patriarchy does. Patriarchy treats women as objects, demeans and trivializes them, and provides a subtle theological framework for the right to abuse women. Calling patriarchy God’s will is theological pornography! pg 114

All quotes from Is it Okay to Call God Mother? Considering the Feminine Face of God

By Paul R. Smith

wow - i'm ordering this book today!

sophia - wisdom within

this is the second art piece i completed for lent. it's rendered in charcoal and based on (copied...) a piece by one of my favorite artists doris klein. the first time i saw the piece it made me gasp. most of her art does that to me. it touches a virginal place in my soul that little else has.

the parts of god the church destroys, denies and shames away are depicted by her with such beauty and emotion. doris klein's art touches the places in me that are awakening. a place that freaks me out, terrifies me and i must admit makes me feel like a pagan in my most honest moments. but then i remember tony campolo speaking of the feminine parts of god that most of the church denies and am comforted by his 'permission'. should i need that permission, no, but somehow it makes me feel safer. less on the edge of witchcraft, and more in the place of understanding the pieces of god that i have been denied so long.

i am coming to understand that much of my struggle (and that of many of my sisters) stems from that denial. this solely MALE god is a distortion and it has damaged and is damaging our ability to worship, and i don't just mean the female part of creation either - but creation as a whole.

i know that my healing and becoming real will take me to this place of a WHOLE god. understanding the feminine of the image i bear will allow me to realize in my own body and soul the places that have shamed me for so long. the temptation to delete this and avoid blogging about it is great. but i have realized that being labeled a heretic, avoided or shunned can't matter any more. i need to navigate this here if i am ever to find the healing and the life i long for.

this art piece was my first attempt to get in touch with this emotion and these questions. to express and allow myself permission to dip my toes into the water and worship this part of god i hardly know myself. i don't know about the morals of imitating someone else's art. it's not for sale or profit. i just knew that i was unable to create (yet) that place of birth or unique ideas from within myself on this subject. i hope it is seen as the most sincere form of flattery.

the metaphor of the shell and it's spiralling wholeness speaks to me of wisdom and knowing and deep elemental truth. it expanded sophia to me in such a rich and textured way. as i shaded and highlighted i understood a little more of the inmost places sophia resides. that time, silence and being fully present are the only ways to find those concealed, spiralling places. it is an offering of worship to the part of god i've yet to fully understand, but long to engender, to honor and know.

tears of joy

i have a friend who is being wrung out by powerful men in the church. she asked me to pray so that when she meets with them she would be able to refrain from tears. it's a subject close to her heart, and it's moving her deeply. it breaks my heart that in the 'power world' tears are seen as a sign of weakness. i'm praying for her as i type this so that she is able to hold her head high as she enters this meeting today and keep from crying so she is heard and respected by these weaklings. it angers me.

in their short set at the nywc in pittsburgh, jars of clay played 'god will lift up your head' from redemption songs. i haven't stopped singing it in my head since. this song is about breaking through shame.

in pre-teen/teen years my father would get so angry with me because when i walked in public i was always looking at my feet (he once asked my mother why i was looking at my breasts all of the time - sigh). my shame and awkwardness in that stage of my life was so overwhelming that i was unable to look people in the eyes. i still find it difficult to look people in the eyes while speaking to them. hearing the words of that song i realized that only god can take away the shame of my past, the hurt and the horrible choices i've made. only he can lift up my head.

i picture his hand on my chin, raising up my face to look into my eyes. i know that my emerging, the catharsis of this period is bringing me to a place where i will be able to look people in the eyes, stand with my head up and fulfill what god has for me to do.

this year was the first time in 8 years that i have been unable to attend a critical concern at the convention. while we were pittsburgh we were there as volunteers, so the work was more important than participating in my annual discipline of 'practicing the presence of god'. i was really disapointed because mark yaconelli was teaching it this year. the first time i attended it was 8 years ago, and he and his father co-taught the sessions. this year it began on my 40th birthday, and it was all i truly wanted for my birthday - to be reunited and celebrate the event - almost like things going full-circle. it was hard to give that up, but i knew we made a commitment and needed to stick to it.

the first day liam and i were welcoming delegates, a main occupation for the
'affirmation team'. he was dressed in a construction worker's hard hat, safety vest and wings, and i had on a tiara and wings. mark yaconelli happened by and i had the opportunity to speak with him.

it was at that moment that it hit me that i wasn't going to be participating in the critical concern. i wouldn't have chosen that moment, dressed in this silly way to speak with him, but i knew he was only there for a couple of nights and i didn't want to miss telling him how special that time 8 years ago was for me. how it was the first time i ever heard god speak. how it was because of he and his father taking the time in that cincinatti church to take a risk and turn the convention and youth specialties in a drastically different direction. and, of course, i needed to tell him how much i missed his dad and was so sorry for his loss. needless to say, i started to weep, ugly tears, screwed up red faced crying that i hate to do alone, even worse in public, let alone to someone i'm trying to speak with who means so very much to me.

mark was the epitome of grace. he heard my words, saw how deeply moved i was and was so very patient and kind. he told me as i apologized, and i will never forget it, that there was nothing to be sorry for. he went on to tell me that the catholics believe that tears are a spiritual gift, that they are used to water the hard ground to make it soft again. i haven't looked at crying the same way since.

i pray my friend is able to stand in front of those men dry eyed, but more i pray god lifts her head, and that if she cries she knows that those hard hearts need softened by her tears, and that god has given her the spiritual gift far too many in the church shun and disdain.

here are the lyrics to that song:

Give to the wind your fear
Hope and be undismayed
God hears your sighs and counts your tears
God will lift up, God will lift up, lift up your head

Chorus:
God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
Lift up your head

Leave to His sovereign sway
To choose and to command
Then shall we wandering on His way
Know how wise and how strong
How wise and how strong

Chorus

Through waves and clouds and storms,
He gently clears the way
Wait because in His time, so shall this night
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy

(3X)
God will lift up your head
Soon end in joy

(3X)
God will lift up your head
Soon end in joy

Jars of Clay, God Will Lift Up Your Head

i pray we all soon end in joy.