The Cross & Atonement

This is the one where I put up my hands and said, “No. Enough.”

With every lesson, we have deconstructed each point of view with what felt like pros and cons. However, I cannot do this deconstruction to the cross. I have allowed holes to be poked into many of my ways of thinking, knowing that I was unsettled by it, and I tried to re-patch many of them.

If I want to look at the cross as a symbol of salvific work, I hear that it is really a symbol of torture. Women and children have been told their suffering is sacred, so they must continue suffering – at the hands of men. Being crucified was a horrific way to die. I have watched the specials on the History Channel, with enough horrific wonder, to know that it was a cruel way to die, like being buried alive or drowning. You have enough time to contemplate your death and pain.

If I want to look at the cross as empty because Jesus has been raised, I am denying what happened on Friday. I fear James Cone would sweep in and tell me, “You mustn’t forget Friday!” Celebrating Sunday does not mean I forget Friday. I don’t even forget Saturday. I’m not asked, I’m told that I must gaze at horror of what befell Jesus. If I don’t, I want things too clean and pretty.

If I want to wear a cross around my neck, I have made it a piece of fashion. I have brought it low and made it small. It’s not this looming sight on Calvary in the barely lit hours of the day. It no longer casts a shadow upon the landscape. It’s now a shiny piece of silver, decorated with twists and turns while being small enough around my neck.

Here is where I get upset – just because I am white and middle class does not mean I don’t get the cross and how it can hurt. I do understand. I have met people who are very wounded by what the church, and the symbol of the cross, has done to them. I do not deny or belittle their pain. It’s real, and it is worthy of consideration. I try very hard to understand, and it may come out in ways that seem naive, but I can only start with where I am.

However, the cross is something more than mere symbol to me. When I am hurt, and feeling low, I can gaze up at it and see the outstretched arms of Jesus beckoning me to come close. The scars, wounds and blood beg me to look closer and not judge by what I see. Things are not always what they seem to be. Jesus beat death, and I have hope that I can beat whatever trial comes my way. The cross around my neck is not just a decoration. If I ever have to take it off, I feel naked. It has become such a part of me that I don’t notice when it’s there, but I notice when it is gone.

The Father is in heaven, and He has never come down. I cannot embrace Him or feel Him near me. He does not hold me when I am wounded. The Holy Spirit is ever present. I feel touched by it in the oddest times, but even those seem like fleeting moments. I am left with a longing and desire after each time the veil between corporeal and divine thins. While the Spirit lives within my heart, my mind from time to time drowns it out. Jesus came down through emptying himself into human flesh, but he went back. He’s not here anymore. I love that, through his sacrifice, I will be able to transcend this body and this world to rest with him someday, but someday is not today. All I have left to embrace is the cross he left behind, and I will not surrender it. I want desperately to share it, but I cannot bear to watch it be chipped away like an ordinary tree – each person claiming a piece as his or her own and telling me why that piece is better that a part another person holds.

And this is why I throw my hands in the air and say, “Enough.”

Tell me lies; tell me sweet little lies

When is it ok to lie? Some say never while others don't see the need to tell the truth. I would be willing to believe that most think it's somewhere in between. We don't want to ruin a surprise birthday party, and sometimes speaking the truth hurts others when the fault lies within us. However, what is a good lie and what is just a lie?

Consider wall street. I know not many people want to think about them in the current financial climate, but it's relevant to the topic at hand. Did they lie? They didn't say anything false - they just didn't disclose the truth. Now, millions of people are hurting from their decisions.

Let's bring that to a smaller sphere. If I know about a dysfunctional relationship, and one person asks me about it, what do I do? Now the water is muddied. Is it my place to say anything? Can I, in good conscience, not say what I know?

There are real people helped or hurt by the decisions we make. Sometimes the guilt gets to us. Is it a direct correlation of the pride we allow to get to us? There are so many questions and so few answers. I think this is why we need God's intervention. We cannot do it alone. We need an advocate in our corner. We also need someone to say "You tried to do your best. You are loved, and I forgive you." From my experience, people don't hear that often enough from each other.

self-worth for sale

The idea that your self-worth has been on sale is an unfortunate part of the American economy. Even worse now, they are selling identities. However, when did we start charging for it among other people?

Everyone wants something in exchange for something else, it seems. Nothing is for free or simply a kind gesture. There are personal ads out there that say something to the equivalent of, "You're ugly, so this is your last chance. Use it or lose it." What a horrible thing to say to a fellow human being! No wonder people are confused about the nature of love. No wonder people will clamor to anything that gives the illusion of it. Literally everything around us is telling us we are not worthy. I sent a reply to this person to ask why he wrote such a post. I have not received a reply, and I'm not holding my breath.

I'm not holding my breath because I want to live in something greater. I swim against this sea of chaos every day. Sometimes I create the waves I must crest, and other times they are made for me. This cannot be all there is to it. Dry land must surely appear from time to time. However, I try to remember that people saying hurtful things are telling me more about themselves than they are telling me about myself. It's not an easy thing to do, and I'm not always successful, but I do try to remember that.

So sorry buddy. I'm not ugly enough for you, if that's what you want. This isn't my last chance, and time (while marching on) is not running out. This life is temporary, but I have an eternity with my Father to look forward to. I'm gonna have to pass on your offer.

Sixteen candles

Faith seems to be a fickle thing. There's really no rhyme or reason to it. I have faith that the people I love will love me back just as much. I have faith that I can grow the plants sitting in my window. I have faith that I won't get sick. Yet, in some of these cases I know I will be let down.

I will eventually get sick. Last week a few people weren't feeling well, and today two people were coughing behind me. They didn't sound well, so I do my best, but I might get sick. I try to grow plants, but sometimes I don't water them like I should. I know the weather is getting colder, and I should probably move them, but I don't know what the decreased sunlight will do to them, so they stay where they are. (note to self - check moisture levels in soil when done with thought stream.)

Now love of others. *sigh* The two things listed above, I know I'll get over it if the worst should come to pass. I'll get better, and I can always get a new plant. What do I do about the love of others though? Each person is so individual and irreplaceable. This is where faith gets stubborn. I'm sure I'm not unlike most people that I have been hurt under the guise of love and affection. As much as I would like to pretend, my pain is not unique and I am not a gilded martyr in love. I want to throw my hands in the air and say, "forget it. You win. I'm done with this game." Then something strange happens - I go out and do it all over again. Why would I do that to myself?

Because love is not a game. There isn't one winner and a host of losers. There is no end point. I'm not really convinced there is a beginning point either. Love is like those horrible relighting birthday candles. I can huff and puff in frustration, but after a moment it will flicker and rekindle. Faith that things will be better is that flicker. It needs nothing else to ignite. There is nothing I can do to help it along except to have it. Faith does the rest of the work, and off I go to put love back in to the world... even around (and with) those who have hurt me in the past. I know all too well I might be hurt again, but faith will be there to rekindle the flame when I want to put it out.

This is how I'm coming to understand my faith in God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. All three of them work to rekindle a passion in me (the flame) when I want to put it out. The funny thing is, I don't even have to have faith in them for them to work within me. Yes, read that again. One does not need to believe in God for God to work within the person. For Methodists (and any other Wesleyans) this is Prevenient Grace. One could keep blowing out that flame, but without anything we do, God will spark and the flame will reignite. Now, it's up to us to do something with that flame. We can light another candle (even though they have the spark within them). We can join with other candles to increase the illumination. We can box it in and never let the light out. There are infinite responses to the illumination of the candle, but the point is - we must respond in some way to it. Even if it is plucked and dropped in water, God will ignite the flame. There is nothing we can do to earn that flame.

So, I go out to love another day. People annoy me. Taxi cabs annoy me. Drivers of the 57 bus really annoy me. A host of things annoy me, but they cannot take away my desire to love and be loved in return. I know that somewhere along the way, my candle will meet with another candle responding in the same way. Until then, I will try to be an example for other candles who don't know they have a flame that needs and desires a response. And that's why I can't let love die. Not because I'm the pinnacle of love, but because I'm always being ignited and there's no way for me to ignore it anymore.

security blankets

I am told time and time again that it's important to let go of the baggage that weighs us down. Christians follow-up with "give it to God." However, I'm still trying to learn the art of how to let go of things I know are unimportant.

Sometimes I feel like a child who clings to a blanket. I have taken that blanket everywhere with me, and now it's dirty and starting to smell. It needs to be washed, however I can't seem to part with it for that short amount of time. My fingers clutch around it as it tried to be removed from me. Just why do I cling to it knowing it's not right for me?

Like a child, I probably like the comfort and security. If someone attacks (or accuses) me of faults, I will have faults of theirs with which to counter. Holding on to pain is my ammunition. I carry the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with with me - all the while hoping that I don't hurt myself first with their poison tips.

I don't yet have an answer about how to let go. I have to pick a topic to write about this semester for one of my classes, so I think I'll take up the topic of forgiveness and look at it theologically. More on this topic to come in the future...

I just want...

I attended a baptism today in the muggy Boston weather. It seems the baby was the only one not affected by the humidity. She was looking at everyone in the room and treating them to a smile. She had everything she needed at that moment, and she didn't desire anything else.

So I got to thinking - why do we use the phrase, "I just want (insert object here)?" Whose desires are being placed first in that statement? During the baptism, there was much talk about putting all our faith in God and resting on Him. By asking this question I think we take something away from our relationship from Him. Here are some questions and answers I thought about while riding the "wonderful" 57 bus home.

"I just want to find a job. Is that too much to ask?"
"I just want you to learn the value of things that are not material."

"I just want to be in a relationship. I want to feel love"
"I just want you to love yourself first for I love you already. Don't you know that I am love?"

"I just want to pass this test."
"I just want you to grow closer to me through My written word."

"I just want a nap. I'm so exhausted."
"I just want you to fill yourself with things that nourish you and not those things which tide you over."

There are so many "I just want..." things that could go here. I think each one of them could have a counter argument by God, but in His statement He would want something better for us. In your statement,the individual is asking for something for the self. It's no wonder "do onto others as you would have them do to you" seems to breakdown at times. I'll have to ponder this one some more...

Welcome back Kotter

It's time to start a new year in Boston, and I am so ready to get at it. The petitions and forms are filled out for my new degree program and advisor among other things. My new room is all set up and organized. (I'm determined to keep it in order this year!) The fans (yes, plural) are in the window and the desk. My room really does get that warm. By 3 or 4pm my room feels about 95 degrees (35 Centigrade for my friends outside the US - I'm trying to learn).

What I realized was how much I missed worship at school. I couldn't put my finger on it right away though. I processed it with a professor (and personal mentor). I started thinking it was because the people in worship were mostly my own age. I thought maybe it was because we are mostly on pastoral tracks in our lives. Then I realized the answer came in the singing. It didn't sound like a dirge. The singing was alive - especially the songs that weren't in English. From the singing I realized that there were spirits ready to worship instead of bodies fulfilling a duty. That worship space was alive and so was I in that moment.

I have worked with people who made fun of those who sing praise songs. I agree that some are cheesy and have very little theology in them, but others are born out of a history of oppression and strife. They speak to an undying spirit that clings to faith like a child to a mother. I had never sung "The Summons" as a praise song, and I now think I prefer it that way. I love Bach, Luther, Wesley and the other great musicians who gave us worship music. I just don't think they meant for us to sing with less than joyful hearts.

Bring on the school year! This girl's ready for it!