Hypotheticals

This morning I've had a flurry of hypothetical questions on my mind. What if things were different? What if my plans included y instead of x? Would (or will) I regret choosing one set of options over another? What am I willing to relinquish? Other than my faith in Jesus Christ, what will I cling to at all cost? Could the call of God in my life be answered obediently in more than one way? Or maybe it's better asked this way: Is God's calling in my life something that is specific or general? (I think God calls some people to specific tasks and others to more general ones - which kind of calling is mine?) Can I live fully, faithfully, joyfully with a different set of circumstances than those I envision? Can I with the ones I'm choosing now?

Some of these questions we answer for ourselves. We get to learn to live into them, accepting the outcome as the end that we chose over other possible ends with the hope that God is somehow in the midst of that process - guiding us, journeying with us. Some questions are answered for us, for better or for worse, and we learn to live with those too. Other questions we can only answer alongside others. Here's where the questions of what we are willing to leave behind and what we will not release become the most complicated and the most urgent to answer.

Such hypothetical questions and the world of dim, hazy possibilities behind them are like planted seeds. They each seem to hold the potential for life that gives way to more life. Given the conditions of soil, water and temperature, some will germinate while others lie forever dormant. For now, the surface of the soil is still smooth - who can tell which fragile shoots will break through?

Beginning Again

This morning I arose in time to watch the sunlight break over the eastern horizon. (A rare event for me.) I stood shivering, camera ready, in the crisp morning air, wanting to capture it at just the right moment. I'm not a great photographer, but this seemed like a good image to end my blogging sabbatical. (Chances are no one bothers to check my blog anymore... that's probably for the best.)


I can't explain it, but I felt a baffling sense of loss as the light of dawn spread across the once inky landscape - not my normal response to such scenes. I'm still unsettled by my morning gloominess. I've been on the edge of weeping all day long - just a moment or two away from completely losing it. I managed to keep it together until I got home from work this evening, but it was a stretch. I guess it's just one of those days.

It's been a difficult and wonderful 6 months. There has been heartache and loss (the kind that comes in waves), stress and anxiety, feeling incompetent at nearly every turn, loneliness. But the same months held moments of deep joy (that even outlast the waves of loss), a feeling of completion and accomplishment, new jobs, a sense of calling, meeting new friends, deepening old friendships, and a growing, hopeful realization that God isn't finished with me yet. Needless to say, there's quite a bit to to catch up on.

This is a time of ambiguity and uncertainty in my life, much like the sunrise: whether it begins with bright, golden hues or just the gradual lightening of gray skies, it's hard to tell what the day will hold. The Lord was right: each day has enough trouble of its own. But there's hope and excitement for a fresh start too. Fortunately, we always begin again.

New Year's Eve - what better time for a reflection on planning for the future?

Going back to the church where I grew up means a bundle of mixed emotions to me. I love the Northlake Church of Christ - these folks modeled the way of Christ for me in such a compelling manner that I knew I wanted to throw myself into it too. Still, there's nothing like the distance of a 1,000 miles and seven and a half years to hamper our reunion. As graduation quickly (and yet slowly) approaches, there is a significant increase in the number of people who ask that question I don't know how to answer yet: "So, after you graduate, what's next?" I respond with a goofy grin and flashy, hope-the-parachute-works-cause- I'm-jumping-anyway eyes and say, "I don't know yet." Like most major life changes, this one fills me with excitement and dread all at the same time. Ever the optimist, I try to let the excitement triumph over the dread.

This was a somewhat more difficult to pull off this morning because I was feeling a little discouraged. Our service was centered around the communion table. In so many ways it was refreshing. The seats were arranged so that you could see most people in the room. We read the whole book of Ruth in lieu of a sermon, highlighting the way that the Lord provided abundantly for Naomi and showed steadfast love through Ruth and Boaz. The repeated references to grain and Bethlehem made the connection with the Lord's Supper natural. We participated together in our Great Story of God's faithfulness in Jesus Christ. I'm still thinking about it... and yet, it was discouraging too.

Like every other worship service at Northlake, this one was led exclusively by men. (And Northlake has always been a moderately progressive congregation.) A few years ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about it. This time it stood out like a brightly festooned, strutting peacock in the middle of a multi-laned highway. It strikes me, nearly every time I'm in church, that the most important criterion in whether a person can play an active role in the worship service is not age, spiritual maturity, competence, or thoughtful preparation. It's gender. Maleness is the common denominator. What seems to me to be the most arbitrary consideration of them all is the deciding factor.

The table is a crucial moment in worship, one which is, among other things, an expression of our unity in Jesus Christ. And yet, we do not approach the table as equals. Well, we do in theory, but our practice suggests otherwise. In Matthew, Jesus says, "Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks." Usually we proof-text this passage when we're discussing holy speech. But it further suggests that our concrete actions correlate to the inner reality. Jesus' teaching conflates mind, body, and soul over against the faulty distinctions we make between them. What we do outwardly matters as a tangible expression of who we really are, what we really believe. Regardless of what we might say we believe about gender equality, our practice at the Lord's Supper, indeed at anytime in worship, reveals that as a corporate body we believe that men are inherently spiritually superior.

Anyway, this renewed realization gave me pause as my graduation date approaches. "What's next?" they ask with genuine interest. Giving my normal response aloud, I silently wonder to myself, "What indeed?" Maybe the best answer is to rely on the same loving-kindness that the Lord showed to Naomi (without renaming myself "bitter" in the meantime!). Thus, a single worship service delivers discouragement while also giving significant impetus to press on with hope and trust. I'd like to hold to the latter without being smothered by the former, but for that task, my anamcharas, I will need you!

You know what I hate? It seems like every time I start to write something about my future plans, it ends up being a complaint about my battle with the suffocatingly low glass ceiling. I'm sure my friends and family are as weary of this topic as I am. This isn't the post I thought I was sitting down to write. Perhaps I'll try again tomorrow. After all, if there's any day for reflecting on future plans, it's New Year's Day, right?

coming soon...

My silly little blog has been in need of a makeover/transformation, for quite some time. I just happen to have a little window of time for making such changes, so it's coming soon, perhaps before my next post. This might even include a new name, new colors, and perhaps a little refocusing and reframing. Dare I go as far as including a profile picture?! I don't know... I generally assume the world's better off without my highly unphotogenic face floating around in cyberspace... but maybe, just maybe...