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Monthly Archives: June 2013

Rain

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We have heard often that “it rains on the just and unjust alike.” It isn’t that bad things only happen to good people. Bad things just happen. Being good is no shield against pain and loss.

Nobody “deserves” for something bad to happen to them. People may make bad choices and they have to deal with the repercussions. That isn’t what I’m thinking of when I say “bad things” That is an expected event. It isn’t “unfortunate” when a man gets heart disease after a lifetime where his only exercise consisted of making yet another trip through the buffet line. “Unfortunate” has at its root “fortune.” There is nothing about luck going on here.

I’m thinking about when an accident occurs or a mistake. When you go in for a tonsillectomy and the surgeon cuts your foot off instead. Or when a tornado comes to town and reduces your just-paid-off house to toothpicks. That “something bad” is what I’m talking about here.

Yelling at God won’t help. Wondering if you are guilty of some unknown sin won’t help. You aren’t being punished. It just happened. Now what? What do you do with your one-foot-having, no-house-having self?

Accept it and move on. Deal with your new reality.

Don’t cheer about the “bad guy” when “bad things” happen to him either. That is gloating. It wasn’t polite or pretty when you were five and did it. It is even uglier now.

So what do you do?

Practice with the idea of loss and disappointment just being a part of life. You can’t always get what you want, and sometimes that is a real blessing. Sometimes what we want isn’t very good for us.

Some parents will get their child a hamster as a gentle way to warm them up to the reality of death. Hamsters don’t live very long. So the child has the hamster as a way to brace themselves against the time when Grandpa is going to die.

Learn acceptance of what is, and forget about what was, and what might be coming. The past is gone, and the future is always changing. All you have is right now. Fighting against it only makes it harder.

Remember the Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr?

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.

It isn’t just for people in recovery from drug and alcohol addiction. It is for everybody. We are all addicts. We are all recovering. We are all returning to our roots, to our source.

We had it all figured out when we were babies. Then things got harder, and we got given a lot of rules and ways of thinking that weighed us down.

It isn’t easy to do this, this recovery. I think there is something in first acknowledging that we are broken. I think there is some healing in that.

I think there is some healing in knowing that the “bad stuff” isn’t personal. That it just happens.

You still get wet when it rains, but you don’t have to feel guilty about it.

Well, unless you are constantly forgetting your umbrella or hat, then that is all on you.

The story of Samuel

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I love the story of Samuel in the Old Testament. There is so much in it that I find really meaningful that I’d like to share it with you. All verses are from the New Revised Standard Version.

The story starts with Samuel’s mother, Hannah. Hannah is a woman who is unable to conceive a child, and her husband’s other wife has many children and constantly berates her for her lack of children. Hannah is deeply upset and goes to the temple to pray for a child.

I Samuel 1:9-16
“9 After they had eaten and drunk at Shiloh, Hannah rose and presented herself before the LORD. Now Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the LORD. 10 She was deeply distressed and prayed to the LORD, and wept bitterly. 11 She made this vow:”O LORD of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death. He shall drink neither wine nor intoxicants, and no razor shall touch his head.” 12 As she continued praying before the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. 13Hannah was praying silently; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard; therefore Eli thought she was drunk. 14 So Eli said to her, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.” 15But Hannah answered, “No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the LORD. 16 Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”

The priest doesn’t even know what a praying person looks like. This is really amazing to me. A priest should be acquainted with the idea of a praying people. He should know the difference between holy and crazy.

Here’s another interesting part. She is upset and pouring out her heart to the Lord. She is making a vow that if she is able to have a child, she will give him up to God. She is asking God for something that she is then going to give back to God. This is amazing. She isn’t asking for something for herself. She wants a child, but then she isn’t going to keep him.

When he was weaned, she took him back to the Temple and put him in the service of God. He was a child. She didn’t have him for very long. She kept him just long enough to wean him so that he didn’t need her any more. She honored her promise. How many of us make promises to God in a time of distress and then we go back on them or forget them when everything is fine? I know I do.

Samuel first heard the voice of God in the middle of the night.

1 Samuel 3:1-9
“Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the LORD under Eli. The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. 2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; 3 the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was. 4 Then the LORD called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” 5 and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down. 6 The LORD called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” 7 Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, and the word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him. 8 The LORD called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the LORD was calling the boy. 9 Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place.”

Eli, the priest, hadn’t ever heard the voice of God.

Here is a person set aside to serve the Lord and he hasn’t heard from the Lord. Ever. He is following the rules and regulations. He is following along with tradition. But he has no real connection with God. He is doing the way they’ve always done it because they’ve always done it that way. But he’s never heard from God. He is just following along in the book.

He also is squandering the offering. He had been using the offerings for himself and for his children.

So just because someone is ordained, it doesn’t mean that they are holy. Sometimes it is just a job to them.

Be careful of who you trust. Be careful of who you follow.

The Lord told Samuel that Eli was about to get punished, along with his children, because of their iniquity.

1 Samuel 3:10-18
10 Now the LORD came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” 11 Then the LORD said to Samuel, “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle. 12 On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. 13 For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God,[b] and he did not restrain them. 14 Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever.”
15 Samuel lay there until morning; then he opened the doors of the house of the LORD. Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. 16 But Eli called Samuel and said, “Samuel, my son.” He said, “Here I am.” 17 Eli said, “What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.” 18 So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, “It is the LORD; let him do what seems good to him.”

I’m actually amazed that Eli listened to Samuel, that he believed that the Lord was speaking to him. But then that amazement is cancelled out with the last line “It is the LORD; let him do what seems good to him.”

As if it is some random thing the Lord is about to do to him. As if he doesn’t deserve what is about to happen to him. The Lord doesn’t strike down Eli and his sons on a whim. They intentionally didn’t do what was right. They got what was coming to them. It wasn’t random.

There is a lot that goes on in this little story, and I’m sure there is a lot more that I’m missing. Samuel grows up to be a great prophet and leader, and Samuel is the person who is lead by the Lord to find and anoint David as king.

I miss my Dad.

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I miss my Dad.

He’s been dead since 1994. He died of a heart attack while living in his old room at his Mom’s house. He and my Mom were separated. They couldn’t see eye to eye.

There hadn’t been a lot of real communication all along anyway.

In a way I could say he was never really alive.

He was abused by his parents. He was never good enough for them. They treated him like a stupid child. He was sullen as a father, and greedy as a person. I was embarrassed to bring boyfriends home.

But I miss him.

Do I miss what could have been? Do I miss the Dad of my imagination? Would I feel an opposite amount of joy for my sadness if he were still alive today?

I can’t know.

I know that when I saw a picture of him today, laughing, joyful, I was struck with sadness. I am sad for what never was. I am sad for a life not lived fully. I am sad that I never saw him live up to his potential. I am sad that he was crushed by life, by other’s demands on him. I’m sad that he didn’t live at a time where mental health professionals had better tools in their kits.

He taught college English anywhere and any place he could. He did distance learning before anybody had a word for it. He would teach people the joys of writing and reading fine authors in the evening in high schools, in the afternoon in prisons, wherever a class could be formed. Teaching was his life.

It has been nearly twenty years since he has died. I think he would be very proud of the person I’ve become.

I know that he loved me more than he had words to tell me.

I know that he tried his best.

I don’t know if I’m crying more for me, or for him.

“The Natural Look”

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There is something very radical about hair and makeup.

If you go natural, people look at you funny.

I celebrate black women who don’t straighten their hair. I celebrate white women who let their hair go grey. I actually cheer them on. I want to counteract society telling them that they aren’t quite good enough unless they conform to the norm.

Why are we told that we aren’t beautiful unless we change ourselves? We are asked to lay ourselves down at the altar of Avon. We are asked to grind ourselves up in the crucible of Clairol.

What is the motto of L’Oreal? “Because we’re worth it”.

Something sounds very backwards about that, now that I think about it.

Like we don’t deserve respect for looking exactly the way that God made us.

You want that natural look? Go natural. Get some natural sunlight and drink some natural water and eat some natural food. You’ll look great.

When you have to buy your “natural look” in a bottle from Walgreen`s, then you know something is wrong.

Our society is telling women that they aren’t beautiful unless they alter themselves.

Shave your legs and armpits. This is reducing our appearance to that of a prepubescent girl. This is really creepy. We are telling women to stop looking like adult women.

High heels are the modern equivalent of foot binding. Uncomfortable shoes cause damage to women’s feet that can only be fixed surgically.

It takes a lot of energy to escape the gravity of this cultural training. It takes a high level of self-esteem to achieve escape velocity.

Look at all the women getting plastic surgery to “fix” something that isn’t broken.

Do you want to have a radiant smile? Take the money you were going to spend on that plastic surgery and give it to a charity.

Mother Theresa was far more beautiful than Paris Hilton will ever be.

Our society tells women constantly that they aren’t good enough. Too fat. Too thin. Hair too stringy. Hair too dark. Skin too pale – get a tan. Skin too dark – bleach it.

No matter what we look like, it isn’t good enough. We have to learn to see through this deception.

We are never “just right”, according to the media and the marketers. We need to remember that the media and the marketers make money on feeding us poison.

Our goal needs to not be beauty but health. I exercise and eat well not to be thinner but to be stronger.

I go to the Y out of a sense of rebellion. I eat vegetables as a political statement. I skip deserts and fried foods to show that I can.

I don’t want to be ruled by autopilot.

Each act is a stone I’m adding to my wall that I’m building to shore myself up against this wave of collective insanity that we call modern society.

My goal is to become fully awake, and to inspire others to do the same.

My goal is to let you know you are beautiful, and you are loved. That you matter. That you are important.

Supplies – to paint or not to paint

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I have so many unused art supplies it isn’t even funny. I have canvas, paint, and image transfer tools. I have books on how to do new techniques. I have fabric and beads. I have stamps and magazines for collage.
And sometimes they just sit around because I’m afraid of messing it up. I’m afraid of using it wrong and wasting the materials. I have to admit that I’d rather do nothing than do something.
Beads are a little more forgiving. I can restring them if they don’t work out the way I planned. But paint and canvas and collage? Not at all. Once it is used, it is used. That is money wasted if it doesn’t work out. But I’m wasting money by not using it either.
I’m trying to change my mind on this. I’m trying to see it as process, not product. Working on a piece is a process. Every failed attempt is a learning event. Everything I learn from trying something new will end up in teaching me how to do it “right”.
I want everything I make to be perfect. I’m not very good at giving myself second chances and do-overs. I’ve found the way through this with writing. I’m OK with the idea of writing about the same subject from different angles. I’m OK about using the same idea or concept in different pieces.
But that isn’t as easy with artwork. Some pieces are permanent. I could make copies of things and use them, but somehow that lacks legitimacy. There is a risk in using the real thing. There is something about that risk, that legitimacy, that I crave. Yet that is also the very thing that I fear.

Southern fried pride

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More meat, less vegetables – that’s the Southern way. More obesity, diabetes, and heart disease, that is also the Southern way. It is as if we make it a cultural thing to be fat. It is as if we are proud of how out of shape we are.

We are proud of our fried food and our fatback and our meat-centric meals. We have made our stunningly unhealthy food an essential part of our culture. To drop the food is to deny our Southernness. It is time to redefine what it means to be Southern, because right now it means that we are killing ourselves.

There is a certain amount of shaming that occurs for those who take care of themselves. I’ve been told “you suck” for my efforts to get in shape – like this is a game of musical chairs and I got the last one. Just because I’ve decided to get healthy doesn’t mean that others can’t. There is room for us all.

This isn’t the only time I’ve gotten attitude for getting healthy. I wonder how many people decide to quit because of this social shaming. The weird part is when people say “Oh, you’re still skinny.” Of course I am. I’m still exercising and eating well. I want to say “Oh, you’re still fat.” But that isn’t nice.

It isn’t easy to get healthy. There are a lot of adjustments. There is a lot I’ve given up. I don’t have anywhere near the time I used to have to read. I don’t like exercising, but I like how I feel afterwards. I’m not a fan of having to think before everything I eat as to whether it is healthy or not, but I like how my clothes fit and how clear headed I am.

This isn’t a whim. This is a lifestyle change. I decided I wanted to live a long healthy life. I decided to be intentional about my health. I quit a lot of bad things and started doing a lot of good things. Plus, I don’t have any children, so nobody is going to be around to take care of me when I get older. So I have to do it myself.

In the South, we don’t have any idea what “normal” looks like. We see someone who weighs 200 pounds and we think he is just fat. No – that is obese. Then we see someone who is 300 pounds, but because she is larger than us, we think we are fine.

Nope. We are all out of shape.

We’ve come to think of “exercise” as a dirty word. We see it as a punishment. We see it like physical therapy – it is something you do for a little while, under doctor’s orders, and then you can quit.

How have we gotten so far off the path?

We act like eating whatever we want is our cultural right. We’ve clawed our way to the top of the food chain and we are going to prove it by taking ourselves to our graves.

We act like being lazy is a good thing. We act like we’ve proven we are number one by the fact that we can sit around all day. We don’t have to work all day long, finding or harvesting our food. We don’t have to walk three miles with a bucket on our heads to bring water back. We don’t have to walk four miles one way with no shoes to go to school.

Maybe it would be a good idea if we did these things.

Then maybe we wouldn’t take them for granted.

I’ve noticed that parents from foreign countries consistently get educational books for their children. They work really hard with them to get them to work hard on their education. Meanwhile, American parents let their kids get whatever they want. They get comic books and cartoons.

Consequently, the ESL kids consistently do better than the American kids. Children who were born into an English-speaking family consistently read and think at a lower level than children who are born into other families. It is because of the parents. The foreign parents don’t let the kids pick what they are going to read. These parents expect their kids to work hard and they don’t take “I don’t want to” for an answer.

I wonder how much of our Southern Fried Pride comes from habit? I knew a guy who was at least 500 pounds. His skin was grey, he was so unhealthy. He said that everybody in his family was as large as he was. I have a strong suspicion it has more to do with what is in their recipe books than what is in their genes.

Our pride is killing us.

Meatless? Are you mad?

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I was at a local burrito place today and ordered “seitan chorizo con papas” as my protein option. The preparer checked with me to make sure I knew it was vegetarian. I told him that was why I ordered it. He then shared with me that a lot of people freak out when they learn this. They reject it and go with the barbacoa.

I’ve noticed a lot of people are like this. They are terrified of being without meat. I’m like this. I’m trying to eat less meat but I haven’t taken the plunge yet and gone totally vegetarian.

It is as if there is a fear of being without meat, like we will faint or fade away from lack of nutrition.

Looking at the obesity rates of Americans, there is no worry about fading away to nothing anytime soon.

I had a coworker that I invited to an Indian buffet. He asked what was available and I started to describe what we were likely to find. He was quite interested in the chicken tikka masala but bored by the spinach and potato dishes. He was a little dismayed by the absence of any beef dish. When I told him that the best dishes were the vegetarian ones he visibly got defensive.

What? Not eat meat? Are you kidding?

I pointed out that there are people who go without meat for their entire lives and they do just fine. One meal without meat wouldn’t kill him. He was so skeptical that he decided not to go.

I remember a conversation with the manager at an Indian buffet many years ago. He said that people in India and in America are both dying because of food. Indians are dying from not enough food, while Americans are dying from too much food. We are eating ourselves into our graves. We suffer from preventable diseases for many years beforehand.

Our doctors, insurers, and pharmacists make a lot of money on treating these diseases with palliative treatments. I don’t have all the words yet to explain how angry and upset I am about Western medical thought, about how it treats symptoms rather than addressing the cause of illness.

I know I feel better when I eat a vegetation diet. I feel lighter and happier. I know I am doing something nice for my body.

Our bodies are temples. Our bodies are temporal houses for our immortal souls. So why do we fill them up with trash? Why do we pollute them with preservatives?

I haven’t made the full switch because I like the taste of meat. I like the texture. I don’t want to limit myself to only two or three options on the menu when I eat out. I don’t want to be a bother to friends when they are kind enough to invite me over to their homes for dinner.

I remember when I was in college and had gone entirely vegetarian because my boyfriend was. It was as if I needed a buddy or a partner, like in a hike in the wilderness or in AA. I needed someone to participate in this different diet with me. Plus, he cooked.

I was invited to a cousin’s wedding and the invitation said that if you had special dietary needs to call. I called and told her that I was vegetarian. She said that wasn’t a problem. A day later I got a call from my aunt, her mother, saying how dare I insist that they change everything around just for me. I was immediately uninvited to the wedding.

It was years later before I realized that side of the family was crazy in an abusive kind of way.

There is a knee-jerk reaction against being vegetarian. It is seen as counter cultural. It is seen as rebellious. It is seen as other, as weird.

But the norm is to eat all you want, spend all you want, and die soon and poor.

I don’t want to be normal. I want to live a happy, healthy life. But I also want the convenience of eating out. It is a sign of our culture that it is almost impossible to get vegetables if you eat from fast-food places. And when you do find vegetables they are either very salty, or cooked with pork, or they are just salad greens with little nutrition.

Perhaps it is time to Occupy the Kitchen.

There is nothing more countercultural than cooking your own food. There is nothing more rebellious than taking charge of your health.

Hat. (This being human is messy)

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There is a guy I know who drives a hover round. It is essentially his everyday car. He is too disabled to drive his truck, but he does it anyway in the winter or when it is raining.

It is summer now and it is very hot. I saw him today when I went to the post office. He was riding around with shorts, in a short sleeved shirt, and no hat. I thought about giving him my hat. I can get another.

He isn’t well off. He’s nearly died a number of times. His ex wife just died, and he is mourning her terribly. He’s been homeless before, for at least two years. His living conditions aren’t ideal, but they are better than a shelter. He’s a veteran. He lives on Social Security.

So I feel sorry for him. But then I remember his tales of going to Tunica, Mississippi and gambling. I remember how he’s constantly buying lottery tickets. I remember that his wife divorced him because he was cheating on her.

He’s made some bad choices.

He has chosen to spend his money on gambling rather than a hat. He was homeless because he chose to cheat on his wife. He is retired from the military and has chosen not to seek aid from them.

I dislike the term “enabling”. It really should be “disabling”.

To assist someone in their addiction is not loving. I’ve called it “aiding and abetting a sin.”

I know other people who are getting older and have some chronic health issues that are getting worse. They moved to be closer to their children. One of their children suggested that they move into a condo or an apartment so they wouldn’t have to worry about yard work or maintenance on a house. They ignored this advice and bought a house. Now they call their children to come take care of the yard work and the house maintenance. They have both become infirm, and this situation will only get worse the older they get.

I feel that they have made a bad choice and that they are abusing their children by asking them to rescue them from a preventable problem.

I’m very frustrated. I want to help people, but I want to do it in a way that really helps, instead of keeping them in the same old ruts. I want to prevent problems rather than treat them. I don’t want to cure anything. I want to stop problems from happening.

I’m frustrated when someone gets surprised that they have lung cancer after smoking two packs of cigarettes a day for twenty years. This is how my Mom died. It was sad that she died at 53, but not tragic. She did it to herself. It wasn’t an accident. She knew that what she was doing was harmful but didn’t quit.

I took care of her after her diagnosis. I drove her to her chemotherapy and radiation therapy. I cooked. I cleaned. I watched her die, bit by bit, piece by piece, day by day.

That takes a lot out of you, to watch someone die from making bad choices. It takes a lot out to see their pain and regret and fear and know that you can’t rescue them. She put herself in that hole, and because of it she put herself in her grave.

It is Christ-like to help others without question. Jesus didn’t ask people if they created their own problems. He didn’t say to the lepers – why didn’t you stay away from lepers? You knew it was contagious.

I’m finding it hard to be Christ-like. I can’t just touch them and they are healed. We humans heal people in slow motion. We have to get involved. We have to get into it up to our arms. It is messy work, this business of healing.

I wrestle with it. Am I healing someone to make it easy for them to continue to make bad choices? Why should I wake up every day and go to work just to give someone else money when they refuse to look for work?

This isn’t very nice, but it is honest. This isn’t very Christ-like, but it is human.

All the child rearing books say there have to be repercussions to bad decisions. If you let them get away with it, you are encouraging it. They advocate tough love.

“Difficult Conversations” tells you how to speak up, so you can navigate the balance between not being a doormat or a tyrant. “Boundaries” says that Christians are taught to sacrifice their own needs and wants to take care of others, and that this isn’t healthy for either person. “Codependent No More” says something similar but it doesn’t go into the issue of Christian guilt.

Somehow this sounds like an excuse to ignore someone else’s pain. But then it is important to encourage them to stand on their own. If someone has to lean on you all the time, you aren’t helping them grow as a person. And you will find you are not growing either.

This being human is messy.

I think it is lucky for Jesus that he died at 32. He didn’t have so many issues to deal with. He never had to juggle work and aging parents. He never had to deal with his own chronic health problems. He didn’t have a history of being abused by his family.

It is hard to follow Jesus, and it is messy. We don’t do it right even half of the time. But when we figure out the balance it is beautiful and amazing. I’ve given up the church but I’ve not given up on Jesus. I don’t understand the Way but I feel it is a good path.

I fall, and I get up. I get distracted. I run away, just like Jonah. And yet I’m still on the path, all along. I think this is part of what it means to hear the call, and to follow Jesus. I want to do it right, and I know I’m not going to.

This is like exercise, like training for a marathon. But I’ll never get there because of the nature of the path. That is the price of being human.

Cycle (On taking time off for yourself)

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This being human is cyclical.

We aren’t awake all the time. We aren’t creative all the time. We aren’t at our best all the time.

When we “fall off the wagon” of our plans – exercise, diet, or any creative goal, we feel like we are failures. And it is very hard to get back on that wagon and get going again.

But it is essential to allow for these times of rest and reflection.

Just like a seed has to spend time in the dark to begin to sprout and grow towards the light, our lives need times of inwardness and quiet.

This is very hard. Perhaps it is a guilt thing that our society puts on us. We think we should always be active and moving and growing. We think we should always be working on our book or painting or exercising.

But this simply does not mesh with nature. Every creature has to sleep. Every plant has periods of growth and decay. We have simply to look around us at the natural world to realize we are fighting against what truly is.

We like to think we are above nature. We have done a pretty good job of separating ourselves from it. We live in houses where we can have light anywhere and anytime. We can adjust the temperature to anything we want to suit our needs or our whim. We have created things to eat that do not resemble anything in nature.

So of course we don’t know about the natural cycles. We think we are more than nature. We forget ourselves when we do this. We set ourselves up for failure.

When we wind down and stop going to the Y or start eating fried foods again and we gain some of our weight back we tend to beat ourselves up for it. We think we are failures. We don’t notice that we’ve only gained back 5 pounds when in total we’ve lost 50.

When we wind down and stop creating we tend to think the same thing. Whether it is painting or drawing or sewing or writing or beading, we sometimes have a tendency to notice all the blank canvases or raw materials than see the finished work.

There is certainly a danger in taking time out. There is a danger in that lull, that slowing. There is the danger that you’ll stay there, doing nothing. There is a danger that you’ll stay in the dark and never sprout.

Inwardly, we all know this. We may not be able to speak it out loud. But that feeling drives us to get over our “slow” times or “no” times as fast as possible because we are afraid we’ll be stuck there.

But then we may burn out. If we constantly work ourselves we will wear out. We need down time. We need slow time.

Scheduling it helps. Entering into it intentionally helps. Being patient with yourself helps. Consider it a Sabbath for yourself. It is a time out, a time off. If you plan for it then it is easier to accept. It is like scheduled maintenance for your soul. Don’t wait until the carburetor of your creativity breaks down.

Snake handling 1 (walks with God)

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I’m going to start sharing stories of when God has called me with the hope that these stories resonate with you. I want to inspire you to be able to answer the call. It is hard to hear, and hard to understand. Perhaps we can muddle through together.

I consider this like “Post Secret” but for hearing from God. Or maybe it is like AA. I’m admitting that God talks to me. I think God talks to everybody, but they just don’t have their radio receivers tuned clearly. Maybe if I share some of what I’ve experienced you’ll realize that you have been through similar experiences. The purpose of AA is to let others know that they aren’t alone, and to give them strength on their journey. I have the same goal.

So I’ll start with this story, and add more later.

Many years ago I was walking with friends in downtown Chattanooga. It was late, probably 10 pm. We were walking to our favorite hangout, The Pickle Barrel. It was mid-November, and chilly enough for a jacket, but otherwise pleasant. This was not uncommon to walk at night in downtown Chattanooga. It was a safe town.

I caught a glimpse of a guy sitting by himself in Miller Plaza. This is an open area where bands sometimes play on the weekends. He was sitting by a fountain that had been turned off because it was winter. Something about him caught me. I felt instantly that he needed help of some sort. I told my friends that I’d catch up with them in a little bit.

It was as if there was a hand on my head and it turned me in that direction. The entire time I was walking across the street I was arguing with God. What are you doing!? I don’t know this person. It is late at night. I am a small white woman!?

Chattanooga in general was safe to walk at night, but I’d been cautioned about strangers my whole life. My parents meant well with their concerns and fears, but they themselves were ruled by their fears. Fear is what killed them, ultimately. I wasn’t rebelling against them by doing this, but I knew that I had to do something. I had to get over my trained fear and listen to that voice that compelled me onward.

As I got closer to him, and saw that he was probably 6 feet tall, maybe 140 pounds. He was pale, and had dark hair. He also had a silver ring on his wedding finger that could have been a wedding ring.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have a script or training for this. I was terrified. But I felt like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I was there already. I was looking at him, and he was looking at me.

I asked him if he was OK. He said he was. I knew he wasn’t. I kept talking with him. I wasn’t prying, and I certainly didn’t tell him that God sent me over because something was wrong. I just made light conversation.

We exchanged phone numbers and parted for the evening. It was months later that he told me that he was going to kill himself that night.

It was because I came up to him and distracted him that he didn’t.

This story has stayed with me for over half my life.

I still feel that pull to go up to strangers and ask them if they are OK. I still don’t know what to say or do. I don’t always go up to them. I wait to see if the pull is really there or if I’m just imagining it.

I don’t want to seem crazy.

It isn’t normal in our society to go up to strangers and talk to them. We are told not to. We are cautioned daily about how dangerous it is.

And then I remember this story. Normally we are told we might die if we go talk to strangers. Yet in this story, the stranger would have died if I hadn’t gone up to him.

It was a weird feeling, this pull. It was as if I had no say in the matter. I was as if I was a puppet. It was kind of unpleasant. It certainly was going counter to anything I’d been told by my parents or priests.

Yet it is everything.

We are told that if we are acting in accordance in the will of God, we are safe.

This is what snake handlers do. You know, the ones you’ve heard about in rural parts of the South or in the mountains of North Carolina. The ones who use snakes as part of their worship service.

They take their lead from the words of Jesus in Mark 16:17-18 “17 And these signs will accompany those who believe: In My name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new languages; 18 they will pick up snakes; if they should drink anything deadly, it will never harm them; they will lay hands on the sick, and they will get well.” And also these words from Jesus in Luke 10:19 “19 Look, I have given you the authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and over all the power of the enemy; nothing will ever harm you.”

I want to take that bravery out into the streets, into the market place. I want to take that and make it useful.

Snake handling done for the sake of snake handling is pointless.

But I also say communion for the sake of communion is pointless.

They both might make you feel closer to God. They both might make you feel connected, and may remind you of your covenant with God.

But they don’t mean anything if you can’t or won’t take that energy outside.

I don’t do this a lot. I saw a guy yesterday at my doctor’s office that I felt a small pull toward. I thought – what should I do? I walked out of the foyer, and I stopped for a moment, standing a few feet from the doors. I waited for the pull again. I waited for the hand on my head, directing me back.

It didn’t come. I don’t know if I missed it, or if it wasn’t something that I HAD to do.

I don’t know. I’ve not found books on this. I’ve not found a teacher.

Perhaps the experience itself is the teacher. Perhaps I need to just let God guide me through this. Sometimes this walk of faith feels like walking in darkness, with tiny pools of light to guide me. When I’m brave enough to step forward into the pool of light, another lights up before me. I don’t know where I’m headed, but I trust who is leading me.

I test everything. Does it feel crazy? That isn’t enough. Look at Moses – he talked to a burning bush. Look at Mary – she talked to angels who told her she was going to bring forth the Messiah.

Am I being asked to do something dangerous? That isn’t enough. Look at Peter – he walked on water. Look at Abraham – he was asked to sacrifice his son.

It is totally crazy to follow God. No wonder non-Christians feel like we are zombies. We pray about everything, asking God for guidance. We don’t rely on our own knowledge, because we realize that it isn’t enough. We are trying to tap into a bigger source. We aren’t lessening ourselves, we are plugging into Source. We are trying to upgrade from a 110 to a 220. We are trying to upgrade from a water hose to a garden hose. But it is hard, and confusing, and weird because there aren’t that many guides on this.

Here’s a test – is it for me? Or is it for others? Who will benefit from this action? If it is selfish, then run away. If it is self-less, then run towards it. If you are serving others, you are safe. Now, this doesn’t mean that nothing “bad” will happen – but it means that if it does, then it is also part of God’s will.

Confusing? Sure. But the Bible is full of stories that are confusing and yet many of us use them as the basis for our faith. I’m just bold enough to think there is some truth in these stories, and that it applies to us, right here and right now.