The Beautiful Messiness of Faith

Spiritual Thoughts Are Provoked In . . .

2011-03-26T02:26:00.000-07:00

Spiritual thoughts are provoked in interesting places, such as watching Dirty Sexy Money. Without going into the details of the show, I'll high-light the relevant part. There is a character who is angry, bitter, lost, resentful, frustrated and a Reverend. He has these paradoxical moments where he shares beautiful and insightful thoughts on faith and spirituality that are mixed with moments of violent disdain and meanness.

The quote below is said when his life is in a state of crisis: career, family, everything is upside down. He is in a church and he asks (his otherwise life long rival - the good guy in the show)to sit next to him in this pew. He says:

"This is what church is for. Dragging the ruined past, through the messy present, into the perfect future... And then ruining it, together."

Initially I loved the first part but the second part ("ruining it")seemed unnecessary; but then I listened to it again. The second time I thought about the importance of the word "together" being added at the end.

A moment, even shared between rivals, when a person opens their heart and utter vulnerability and recognizes that in our brief human existences all we have is this concept of past, present, future - and we are there, together in the mess yet with hope for a perfect future - is a powerful moment.

Together we face the reality that the ugly parts of our past will have to be brought to a forefront - hopefully as a part of forgiveness, love, and healing - and we will wade through that mess but we will not wade alone. And then, because we are human and imperfect, we will likely ruin the next beautiful and hopeful future together. But ruining isn't necessarily ruining it in the ugly way, but stumbling through like we always do.

If that is what church is for, to stumble through life together, to confront our scars, and rejoice in even the messiest of times, then that's a beautiful thing.

So there it was, inspiration in a show called Dirty Sexy Money. I guess God can happen anywhere - but that is not news.

Me or The Other?

2011-03-21T00:11:00.000-07:00

Lately I have had a lot of anger about religion. For so long I battled with how to reconcile my life with how I used to experience religion, not faith really, but the church. The people. I have been part of amazing and loving communities, but I have also seen a serious deficit of grace in my experiences with what I consider, “the church.”

When I set out to write this my thoughts were in a different place, but putting my thoughts to pen (or keyboard) brings up a different side of the story. I cannot help but think of the amazing people who acted as shepherds in my life. The beauty I saw in their hearts and actions. I knew there were exceptions to the un-named and general mass of people to whom I have assigned my anger, but I had not thought of how many. I guess this is to the faceless, the generic crowds that I have encountered, some specifics, but more to the experience with groups of congregants.

Perhaps my anger is also at myself.

I was judgmental. Perhaps it was having to defend myself for simply not agreeing with others who often "defended" themselves by saying that I must be judgmental and narrow minded. It was a ridiculous circle. And all I wanted was for it to be simple, black & white. Good & bad. I wanted life to make sense. I knew it wouldn’t always and it was messy (hence the name of this blog), but I needed some semblance of order to function in this crazy world.

Now I could go on forever so I will narrow my focus here: Anger at how people change in the church. Anger at how it was me who did it first.

1. When I was 19 I had not gone to church in a while, but when I went back I asked a friend for a favor and I expressly remember what it was. I asked my friend Kat to tell me if I became someone else. I knew that I had the habit of disappearing into a church. I knew that I loved being connected so much that I would leave behind my friends (who did not seem to fit), even though I loved them. I think she tried to tell me, but I wasn’t listening and at the time she was changing too. She was busy falling in love. I was busy jumping head first into a culture in which I felt I really fit; I spoke the language, I got the concept and I had things in common with people on a deep and fundamental level.

But over the years I changed. My life took dramatic changes that were not always good and up until 2005 God and I always seemed to work it out. But then we didn't. Well I didn't. The girl who had judged person after person with the goal of loving them could no longer look herself in the mirror without shame and self loathing. And even when I got passed that, I no longer felt that I could "fit" within a church community because I no longer put "right" & "wrong" in clearly labeled boxes. Now logically I knew that wasn’t “required” but I could not connect. I did not know how to live within that world.

2. Other people. I know I am not the only person who has done this. I have watched countless people come to the church and leave behind perfectly healthy friendships because it is so hard to maintain what felt like multiple lives. And while there is so much beauty in faith and it is wonderful to become part of a community, is it any wonder that people dislike Christians? People who get cast aside because they don't fit? Yet as I am watching someone else do this - or believing that this is what is going on - I wonder if it is anger towards "other people" or anger towards what I have done to other people that is gnawing away at me.

A friend became a Christian not too long ago, well, got involved with someone who is Christian and now is actively involved in a church. I feel awkward and in many ways horrible for not being anything but happy for them. But my unhappiness is not a lack of support for their new found faith, but in their changes and their leaving behind people they have been great friends with for well over a decade.

The worst part of the whole thing though, for me, is that they are living up to my judgments.

As many people know I am very protective of people I love and often get angry on their behalf, even if they don't want me to. In my protective nature I become kind of mean and very judgmental and while it comes from a very good place it turns ugly pretty fast. And apparently when it connects to religion it is bad.

My friend's partner did not make bids at an actual relationship, even though I had. Which is generally fine. But then they both began to invite us to church, continually. No relationship building or maintenance, just church; which frustrated me. The friend started cancelling plans, over and over. My judgment and some deep seeded frustrations with Christian communities set in. I said that the sad reality was that as this person became more involved with church that they would leave behind their non-Christian friends. That even if they had been friends for years and years it wouldn't matter because I have seen it happen and I have done it myself.

And then it happened. I was right. Or think I am. And I don't want to be right. I have spouted on and on about my frustration that they were trying to convert me but that if they were my friend, they would know that I do not need conversion.

This sounds convoluted. I guess it is a question of who I am angry at, rather legitimately angry at. Myself? Them? Their church? This is of the type of church that I do not want to attend and have what are apparently very negative feelings about. Am I angry at God? For letting us be such a closed people? At “the church” which I cannot fundamentally agree with in so many ways? At my sentiments that I have become some sort of religious pluralist because I cannot reconcile so much?

I don’t know. I just know that I am sad. I have seen my own bitterness grow, I have felt the call to return to being connected to a church community (one specific Episcopalian one - the denomination with which my heart and beliefs seems to align with most), and my anger at “the other.” The other that I am not supposed to judge but so harshly do. Based on my own feelings of exclusion and disagreement?

What do I do? Do I pray? Do I go to church? Do I confront the friends with whom I am not that close but someone else I care about is? Do I just let go? Do I find a way to breathe out the anger? I do not like how angry I have become at “the church” or how distant I have become from my own faith. And yet I do not feel that I am committed enough to change anything. It feels futile and selfish. That was what I wanted to do for lent, to be a less selfish being. To connect to God. To open my heart. But I didn’t. I haven’t.

I feel stuck and in my own way.

Willow Tree

2010-04-05T12:16:00.000-07:00

It looks like sun, I can see it through the hanging branches of the willow tree. Lighting up the softest, sweetest greens. Yet the water taps my windows and moves the newly formed pond around the apparently broken drain in the parking lot below.

It was pouring this morning when I left my doctor. I was pouring, the sky was pouring, we were in a synchronized dance - we struck a perfect balance. And then it let the sun out. Is it trying to tell me something?

I look into my spreadsheets and documents. I review work samples and folders. I think of writing letters to my students, but instead know I need to prep a presentation, and apply for a job. A job so that I can pay rent next month. And then rent makes me think of bills. Bills that are late.

The world is heavy and burdensome. But I am eerily calm. Empty? It is hard to say what I am. I am moving forward through the stacks of homework, but not making the needed calls to get the bills paid and stop the threat of collection. Is there a threat if nothing in red has arrived? Is that how I should be seeing my world?

And the bank. And the kitchen sink. All things in need of attention. But I write, and stare at willow trees and passing birds, and at my sleeping cat. I feel the knots in my stomach tingle, and the joints in my hand contract and pull into themselves. Straining my neck to crack I try to release its pain. And it makes that sharp sound, and I feel my tendons reject the pull on the shoulder, but the spot inside my neck is happy, if just for a minute or two. I stretch back and hear the popping through my hips, feel the aching in my shoulders. And I think, "Lately, I feel so old."

I turn to the pile of orange folders to my left, and think I should put them in a traveling cabinet of sorts, make my class more organized. I turn my head to the living room and debate an episode of television with lunch, knowing it is a very bad idea.

But my hands hurt and I don't want to type. And I don't want to think of the pain or to-dos, for just a little while. And I want to not feel, physically, and to feel motivated mentally. And I want my doctor to be wrong, because I want a cup of coffee. And her theory of no sugar and no coffee is unacceptable. Can I follow the rest and leave those out? That may be my only choice.

Furious

2010-02-20T15:52:00.000-08:00

I am furious. All of a sudden it came clear. I started yelling at my ceiling. But really the sky. Really at God. Yelling this: Why did YOU make me broken?

Because that is what he did. He made me wrong. He made me broken. He made my brain incorrectly.

So I yelled. I mean I can be rational. I can think of all the things that are sad in the world. All the injustices. And those ran through as well. I thought of how selfish I am being, being so mad about myself and my broken brain - and then I was so upset at God for letting all those things happen.

And then I just gave up. I need passion steered towards productivity. My deadlines are looming! But I just can't get to them.

I just keep feeling so broken.

A Way of Prayer

2009-06-05T10:28:00.000-07:00

"Incluso si para lo que espero no es lo que va a ser, pase lo que pase, amaré a Dios que me creó" -una interpretación de las palabras de John de la Cruz

This is something to meditate on. I think it will be helpful to meditate on something in a different tongue, if for no reason beyond it will maintain my concentration better. And Lord knows I need that.

"I am a Christian"

2009-03-11T22:49:00.001-07:00

"I am a Christian"

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin."
I'm whispering "I was lost,"
Now I'm found and forgiven.

When I say..."I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need CHRIST to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
and need HIS strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
and need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
but, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain,
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
who received God's good grace, somehow.

~Maya Angelou~

Cast them Out

2009-02-02T12:15:00.001-08:00

Yesterday the Reverend at church spoke of the demons inside us and how, though we often think the idea of demons being cast out is archaic and irrelevant, we are failing to see that demons are something other than a "demonic presence." Demons can be anything that consume us - things that take over from the inside out. Like this cavernous space within me that is filled with jealousy, shame and aloneness. She spoke of the need for "the other" which is not a new concept to me. It is one we spent much time focusing on last Fall when reading Volf's, Exclusion & Embrace. But for me, the concept of the demon inside me was made crystal clear as was my exclusion of the other. My closed arms that do not embrace the other and the clarity of what my demons look like for me is still slowly sinking in.

Today I sat in class and listened about pathology, listened about mental health quandaries, realities and diagnoses. I listened and I slipped away. The cloak I often place around me, not of protection but of vulnerability, engulfed me. As I imagine most do, I try to be completely invested in my classes, but today I was so distant. So lost within my head. Oddly after hearing the sermon yesterday and feeling that clarity I was feeling the steps towards freedom were before me - the demons could be exercised - but today there it was, this silent girl who looked like me but held none of my spirit sat there in my place in class.

Was I not once such a spirited girl? How do I reclaim her? How do I open my arms and embrace the other? How do I invest in this world that causes so much ache? Where my mother needs surgery? My sister is given not a child but a struggle? Where loss seems to out weigh, to win? I don't normally feel the weight of a dismal world. That isn't how I view things, but perhaps the pain of others is what is weakening my spirit, distracting my brain. Perhaps the overwhelming nature of knowing my goals feel so far away; graduation, my career, marriage, children. Perhaps the many pieces of the world and my choice to consume them all at once is holding me down.

Yesterday the Reverend also spoke of how sometimes we are summonsed unexpectedly to wake up, to act. She spoke of Martin Buber and while I cannot recall the precise quote she used it reminded me of this one: “The world is not comprehensible, but it is embraceable: through the embracing of one of its beings.” That we need to live a life that is addressed - a life that is lived.

I wonder then, should I act and step out from this cloak, release these fears I hold so tightly, cast out the demons, answer the call that I have been summonsed to, would it change? If I were to TRUST in the truest nature of things - the ones that in the deepest corners of my mind and heart to be true - in the Thou, the very being that cradles the world, would I see? Thou who can wash out the scars, the stains, the hurt and open my eyes to the adventures ahead - the pains ahead, would it be real? The ugliness, the beauty, the believable and the unbelievable. The brokeness, the healed. The things scariest in the world to me. If I set down my guard, could the cloak truly go? Could I be set free? And could I live a life addressed?

That may sound big and convoluted, and as if I am talking about absolutes, which I'm not, but I am talking about trust. About freedom. About letting go and reclaiming my own spirit. About leaving the aloneness. Like what Buber wrote:

"The narrow ridge is the meeting place of the We. This is where man can meet man in community. Any only men who are capable of truly saying 'Thou' to one another can truly say 'We' with one another. If each guards the narrow ridge within himself and keeps it intact, this meeting can take place."

Can the demons be cast out - or will I refuse to let them go?

Martin Buber: "I do not accept any absolute formulas for living. No preconceived code can see ahead to everything that can happen in a man's life. As we live, we grow and our beliefs change. They must change. So I think we should live with this constant discovery. We should be open to this adventure in heightened awareness of living. We should stake our whole existence on our willingness to explore and experience."

Intentionally Placed

2008-12-17T01:34:00.000-08:00

It's snowing outside - or at least it feels like it. Our faucets are all running a little bit to prevent them from freezing. And my heart? It feels full, but small, then contracts. And my eyes? They don't stop tearing up and then crying. I push my fingers through my hair and I breathe out deeply and I wonder, why? Why the crashing? Why the feeling of no and yet too many feelings?

On account of the weather I have been taking the bus instead of driving. I forgot how much I enjoyed public transportation. More than not my experiences with trimet have been good but those few bad ones usually deter me.

One of the things I like most is that you have to slow down your day to fit in a bus ride. And while you are on the bus, often standing in my case, you get to watch the city go by. I live in a magnificent city. A deaf man gave me his seat yesterday. So today I gave my seat away - though less elegantly. I thought of all the little things that people do that are kind - even though it took me 2 hours to get home in 23 degree weather - I appreciated the reality of life.

I wonder if everyone has really experienced the world of public transportation. I think in the life of a car driver we forget about the people who don't have that luxury - or in the case of many people in Portland, who choose not to drive. I don't know. It gave me a greater respect for others. It is not easy scheduling your life and having it at the mercy of others - even though really we all experience that, most of us just don't feel it. I think if someone hasn't experienced this (or similar things) that they need to take away some of the luxuries and break down their barriers - or how will they ever understand or embrace beyond themselves?

How is this relevant? Well, I felt so peaceful today, like I was sharing in something. I know I have often written of my belief in our need for community and I feel like in the absence of one in my life, the feeling of community amongst strangers was pretty significant.

And yet with the people I love I am distant. I do not write the friends I want to write, I do not call my father, I am sharp on the phone with my mother and I am, lately, stingy with my heart to Kyle. I have been very anxious about life, having all kinds of existential crises surrounding death and both the inevitability of it and the fear of its sting capturing me or someone I love at any moment. Irrational? Probably, but it is only a piece.

It is not why I am crying. I am crying because something feels apart. I've said before, this time of year is hard. It is now when I miss parts of my old life. My different life. It is also when I have made my worst decisions. So when I experience the anxieties I am currently carrying I fear that there is any truth to them. And what if there is?

And yet I still don't know if that (fear/anxieties)is why I am crying. I tend to hold the tears in and it seems it has been long enough. So I need to cry. I need to fill this hole and I need to let my eyes flood into pools.

I need to exist, be thankful, be true and know that this is not all there is - this day, that twinkling tree, that anxiety, that fear, this love, the goodness of strangers - that these are all pieces and I am intentionally placed exactly where I am meant to be in something so much bigger.

"Silence"

2008-12-14T00:18:00.000-08:00

Madeleine L'engle wrote, "Deepest communion with God is beyond words, on the other side of silence." In my small understanding of monastic life, of people who walk in constant or deep and daily prayer, in the life of Jesus, and many more, a theme that is present in each, is that of silence.

Silence before God. Silence with God. And having faith when God is, or feels, silent. I think that is part of the "other side of silence," God is beyond our scope of understanding and in our finite perceptions, while God remains ever present, we remain restless wanting a booming voice. When we sit in darkness we want tangibles - God doesn't work in tangibles, well not most of the time.

Yes here it will sound obsessive . . . but the season finale (season 1) of Joan of Arcadia is entitled, "Silence" and much of the episode walks through these spiritual awakenings, these understandings of death and life's consequences and for Joan, of trust and silence.

God says to have faith in the silence but when He is silent she doesn't know what to do. So she pushes Him away. She tells Him to leave. She claims she does not believe in Him, that He is not real. And this is made worse by people around her not believing her, not seeing that her experiences with God were not hallucinations but true manifestations of God in her daily life.

How many times have I had the conversation with God where I tell Him I don't believe in Him or tell Him to go away? I remember clearly crying out to God and begging Him to leave me. There is a metaphor in the episode that I will surely state incorrectly but it went something like this: Believing in God is like getting into a pool. You put your toes in to test it and then your feet and then you get to the point where you are wading in the water. But then the water seems scary or the temperature feels off so you step out of the water, but even when you are out, the water is still there. It always is.

I am not good at it and I resist it, but I try to sit in silence. Sometimes in the muck of life where I know the darkness feels darkest and I just need to be there and wait. And I have to know, know in my gut, in my heart that God is sitting there with me, in the muck, in the darkness and that it may be silent, but I'm not alone.

Madeleine L'Engle also wrote the following, and it is how I feel too:

"I will have nothing to do with a God who cares only occasionally. I need a God who is with us always, everywhere, in the deepest depths as well as the highest heights. It is when things go wrong, when good things do not happen, when our prayers seem to have been lost, that God is most present. We do not need the sheltering wings when things go smoothly. We are closest to God in the darkness, stumbling along blindly."

Joan of Arcadia's God - and mine too

2008-12-11T23:37:00.000-08:00

The semester has come to a close and I have learned so much. Much about clinical work but more about humanity. More about the spirit, about relationships, about hope and faith. More about the construction and deconstruction of how we embrace, or exclude, the world and the people in it - as well as the one who created it.

I started watching Joan of Arcadia and while I recall that while it was on the air it caused some controversy over its presentation of a more general God, what I see is the message of the God I know. The God in the show says that the system is perfect - and they show how one choice, an action, an acceptance of a little direction or calling, has a significant impact on so many lives and how even the person who makes that choice is deeply effected.

If ever there were an existential television program here it is. Perhaps this is why I take my theoretical orientation to be existential. It is so often misinterpreted as something soul-less - but for me it is the most meaningful approach to life (and therapy). It recognizes our deepest cries, the reality of our souls, hearts, minds and our needs. It is not a lonely belief system.

I think the need for a collective experience and understanding of life is essential to the understanding of any human relationship. I believe, and continue to learn in every book I read or relationship I see, that human interactions need to be reciprocal. Two of the books I read this term explained that in order to experience true individuation one must know that they need the other. That relationship with the other is like, or best understood, like the example of the Triune God. The Trinity is an example of the most perfect relational experience - each has an individual identity, but each exists with the other. All three have room for the other within them, but uniqueness within themselves as well.

That may sound convoluted, but it is hard to articulate all the thoughts in my head into a coherent blog right now.

Lately I have been sad. It is one of those sadnesses that does not seem to have an obvious cause. This time of year has always been difficult for me - ever since I was a teen. Call it seasonal affect disorder or an existential crisis, or just a hard time for me, but this year is one of the "easiest" in a long time. No extreme changes or shifts in myself. However I am also cognizant of how risky this time of year is for me and my mental health so I try to stay on top of that as best I can.

Anyhow, this time of year is bittersweet. I love the holidays but I feel a deep, deep sorrow. As I was recently told though, pain is part of it - not in those exact words, but comforting words nonetheless.

What I experience watching Joan of Arcadia's "God" and hearing last weekend's This American Life about the "Church of Inclusion" or Frank Schaeffer's interview on Fresh Air (NPR, Terry Gross) reminds me of why I have faith. When asked about why he didn't give up on his faith Schaeffer responded that if he wanted to, or even when he did, that he would talk to God first, for whatever reason. He also said that what brought him back, more or less, was finding liturgical guidance - stories that are not new or led by hot new pastor's the congregrations (in my words) worship and follow rather than following Christ (that could be a loaded statement but it is not meant to be) - but I hear that. I long for tradition, for history. I long for that in my faith, in my relationships and in my humanity.

I get lost in concepts, words, a scary and dangerour world. I get lost in loneliness and my own cold hearted actions. I get lost and lost - but occassionally I get found. Tonight on "Death Be Not Whatever" the episode ends with a Ben Harper song that sort of speaks my heart tonight (since it is unclear in this labyrinthine of a blog).

So much sorrow and pain
Still I will not live in vain
Like good questions never asked
Is wisdom wasted on the past
Only by the grace of God go I
Go I

I am blessed
I am blessed
I am blessed to be a witness

Integration

2008-10-30T13:19:00.000-07:00

The more I study the integration of faith and psychology the more fascinated I am by the polarities and yet similarities that exist within the fields.

In many churches there remains a stigma to mental illness, or even just mental health. This feels like an outdated statement, if that makes sense. But it feels that way because I am most familiar with contemporary churches - like Evergreen here in Portland, a church I briefly attended. It is a church filled with grace, love and a lot of clinicians. It was odd to sit in a round table style church in a pub (okay those in and of themselves should be considered odd but really aren't) and to hear people respond to Bob (the pastor) with sentences like, "I was processing this . . ." There is an integration of the two in that church. A respect I feel for the fact that mental illness is very real and not some sort of demonic plague. It is a painful experience that many people struggle with.

In other churches there seems to remain the feeling that mental illness should merely be surrendered to God and His healing powers will, well, do just that. How long did I wish that God would take away my depression? He didn't. It is my responsibility to respond to an illness and decide how to care for it. Lest I never escape its' power.

Mental illness all but destroyed me and my faith. It took from me some of the most precious things. Did I allow it to do so? No. I didn't know how to stop it. I can't completely blame that illness for big things that happened no more than I can blame God for not "saving me from them." But I can be cognizant that both played significant roles in the direction my life took. I am not the same person I was in 2005. My faith is not the same. My illness is not the same.

Thus back to the polarities. I held some very black and white views - I still agree with some but many I have had to let go of in order to experience healing. Many a healthy and a toxic church do not provide space for such things.

Generally speaking though both faith and the wonders of therapy and psychopharmicological intervention have significant powers to heal a person. Or in many (most) cases send them in the direction of healing. Healing is a lot of work. For me faith has been a lot of work - in the sense that I have struggled with the fact that I will probably never fit into the place that I once did in the church. I miss the church, I miss mission trips and youth group. I miss the community.

My mental health, my ability to have healthy relationships is probably better than it has ever been. I sometimes think of the many friends and relationships that I lost or damaged along the way. How many times was I terrified to put trust in people or myself? How many times did I claim that difference in "levels" of faith, or certain beliefs could keep me from loving someone, or rather being in-love with someone? How many times did I fear that if someone really knew me - especially my spells - that could not possibly love me.

These struggles have not completely subsided, well in love they have but that only recently and in friendships they remain. Kyle and I have walked through so much of that and I know the path is not at all complete or well paved for the future. With friends I remain longing for spiritual connection - for avenues to have calm and non-challenging conversations. Like the ones I used to have with, for example, my friend Kristie. Just talks of the wonder of God.

That is a trail away from the original topic.

What remains on that is this. Once while at First Pres. Burbank one of the women in the church, Roberta (or was it Nancy Cobb? well they were in a women's group together) asked: If a person were to come in to the church in the middle of service and walk straight to the front sobbing, how would we respond?

If a woman with a mental illness walked in suffering, would we call her crazy in our heads and then try to help her find treatment? Would we try to exercise those demons? I image the first.

Would we see the power of both the need for support in the mental health and faith communities for holistic healing? I hope so.

Humility Come My Way . . .

2008-09-24T13:17:00.000-07:00

Aa chip on my should is not okay. Being mean to friends is not okay. I struggle sometimes with embracing the reality that there are HUGE triggers in my life and that it is the process of how I respond more than the feeling beneath that matters. I need to process and settle the thoughts and feelings I have.

Doesn't it say somewhere about being slow to speak? Like I should think first or something?

I need to do this. So badly. I have become a cannon of reactivity. This is not the person I desire to be. I am okay with messy but not mean. My roots run deep by they are not made with spikes - I put those there.

So humility has come my way. It took an ativan and an hour of therapy, a conversation with both my mother and sister to truly calm me down.

Now I have sought redemption and forgiveness. Now I have let myself remember why I do the things I do, feel the things I feel and why I want to be in this field. Pain can equal progress.

This sounds illogical I realize, or random at least. But in my head and heart it makes sense.

Spiritual Identity

2008-09-13T10:24:00.000-07:00

I have been in my class, Spiritual Identity, for 2 days now. We have spent a lot of time in discussion about poetry, writings, identity, personas, mandalas. We have listened to Tom Waits and Leonard Cohen. We have heard our wonderfully intelligent professor pontificate on life and faith and share stories of spirituality and questioning. We have journaled on topics of spiritual authority, identity, absense of God, the spiritual shadow and response to the readings of Annie Dillard, Theophane the Monk and others. We have sculpted our spiritual shadows from clay and painted our spiritual personas. And we have had small group discussions with other's about their secrets, doubts and loves - to the extent that they would share.

In painting my persona I learned something about myself. Since I stopped going to church, I lost my, for the most part, spiritual persona. My real and pretend selves began to integrate. Who I pretended to be merged with who I am and I couldn’t pretend any more. So in creating a painting of my persona I was no longer that box that is pretty and together but am rather a painting that is a picture left incomplete. A work in progress.

I always wanted to seem together, like a pretty gift box with the box in place. I also wanted to seem creative and interesting so perhaps there might be multiple colors on one side. But I ended up painting this frame with mountains, trees, the sun and a heart all that run off in to white - into open space waiting for completion.

In the past two and a half years I unraveled all that I knew to be "me" and all that I had wanted people to see. I lost the hidden self and became a mess. Chaos everywhere. Kyle told me at coffee once that messy was okay sometimes, he wrote it on a post-it and stuck it on my computer. I slowly let that seep in to my mind and as I was aided in rebuilding my life the fake chipped away.

I want to be a woman of integrity, but that definition is no longer what I thought it was. Now it is not about being "right" but about being authentic and honest. I still struggle and keep a lot to myself or my close friends - but I am living more out loud than I used to.

The Messiness of Faith and the Beauty of Uncertainty

2008-09-01T16:01:00.000-07:00

I am Certain it is OK to be Uncertain.

I have been learning to sit within ambiguity - this is a process that I am not at all fond of. It is uncomfortable and to me often feels like sitting in wet sand that occassionally starts to sink. But what I have been learning, especially of late, that it is ok to not be certain, in fact sometimes it is absolutely necessary.

So much as I needed to learn that sometimes, in life, messiness if okay I am also learning that in faith there is also a lot of mess and a lot of beauty, thus the Beautiful Messiness of Faith is born.
In this blog I will write some reflections on the books and stories I am reading - as well as the way it has an impact on my heart, mind and life.

I hope to hear your stories too.