Political disagreement can be just that...disagreement. A difference of views, invitation to discussion and conversation, and an opportunity to gather more information to evaluate positions and inform views. Political disagreement does not need to automatically trigger judgment of character and faith.
When someone makes comments in public about someone's faith and or character based on the fact that there is a disagreement, that can result in judging without full insight, also known as prejudice, can feed arrogance, and builds walls between "us and them." This in not a life giving situation. It is not an invitation to grace.
We can and will disagree, and we can still find a way love our neighbor with whom we may disagree. We can model respect and offer dignity to the person. People do this all the time, but it tends to be quieter. We find common ground and move forward.
It's when in disagreement, I take power and speak badly about someone's character or faith that I believe I dis-grace God's call on my life. God values all life on the journey of redemption.
Character and faith jabs for political gain are just cruel tools in a shallow and manipulative campaign tool box. I do disagree with some of the positions of current politicians and the current president. I will not brand the character or faith. However, I will use the positions to determine who I will side with. You can still be a good person with a strong faith and line up opposite me on many issues. Many do. One does not discount the other. Do not discount me. I will not discount you in this context. I will learn about you and from you.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Wisdom Worth Noting - Abandon & Abide
Abandon the worries… and Abide in the Word.
Abandon the fears… and Abide in the Father.
Abandon the hurts… and Abide in His heart.
Abandon the cares… because Christ will never abandon you.
It’s what I self-preach again and again to the fearful sinner who is me: Abandon and Abide.
From a favorite blog's post: A Holy Experience
The blogger, Ann Voskamp, also included this song:
http://youtu.be/54ALmQZ_NiA
Abandon the fears… and Abide in the Father.
Abandon the hurts… and Abide in His heart.
Abandon the cares… because Christ will never abandon you.
It’s what I self-preach again and again to the fearful sinner who is me: Abandon and Abide.
From a favorite blog's post: A Holy Experience
The blogger, Ann Voskamp, also included this song:
http://youtu.be/54ALmQZ_NiA
Friday, February 10, 2012
That Lovely Slippery Slope
My friend on my faith journey recommended this blog post to me. He thought I might like it. I did. Very much.
"They Were Right About the Slippery Slop (and Wrong)"
http://rachelheldevans.com/they-were-right-about-slippery-slope?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RachelHeldEvans+%28Rachel+Held+Evans+-+Blog%29&utm_content=Google+Reader
"They Were Right About the Slippery Slop (and Wrong)"
http://rachelheldevans.com/they-were-right-about-slippery-slope?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RachelHeldEvans+%28Rachel+Held+Evans+-+Blog%29&utm_content=Google+Reader
Sunday, February 05, 2012
Jesus Is a Liberal Democrat Video
Food for thought...find the truth in the comedy from December 2010. And then how will I live differently in response to truth?
The Colbert Report
Get More: Colbert Report Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,Video Archive
Get More: Colbert Report Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,Video Archive
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Violent Loss & Suffering/Sticky, Stinky Endurance
My friend is in the one-year anniversary of a tragedy involving the reckless homicide of a friend/colleague. As I think of her and talk with her, some new reflections of my own experience with a tragic loss oozed through and spilled into my mind. On any given day, if you have survived a violent loss, images and thoughts and emotions collide to create chaos or new strength. Heart break is not pretty, but it can become the art of the honest heart.
There is the immediate crisis that follows the actual event and managing to get through that minute-by-minute, but often the pain lingers and the bruises to our souls get bumped with the calendar...a birthday, a year after, and so on. We wish for some relief and work toward acceptance and a return to normal. But normal is now very different. Sometimes the goal is just to hang in there and remember we are not alone, though our personal journey to healing will be our own.
I heard myself say just the other day in an appropriate context, "One of my students was murdered in 1996...." People gasped. I paused and tried to connect to the violence of it all, the bruise that still lingers to each of our souls that knew her. Still felt surreal and my mind tells me I must have made it up. Awkward.
After all these years. Still no acceptance. I think that is the way it is and I think there is actually some wholeness in that ugly. If I were to truly accept it, I'd be giving up on a world the way it should be, with people treating each other safely. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done.
What happened to my student and my friend's colleague is NOT OK. It never will be. We live in that tension. That is what I must learn to accept. Like we are tuned between radio stations, sometimes totally annoying, sometimes I can block it out, sometimes I can accommodate the tension, and sometimes I am able to tune in to the beauty that is still with us.
I realize now that violent crime rips a hole in the peace of mind of any who witness and/or cared about the victims. An act against community. Do we forgive? Do we forget? Who has answers to these questions? I think there are moments of both that flash by and become stronger, like clapping for Tinkerbell to grow stronger. But the broader questions for me are always, "What now?" and since life will never be what I knew to be normal, "What good will come out of the darkness that includes me?"
And it will come. Good will come from this. We will be different, just like seeds die in the ground before forcing their way back into the sunshine to bloom in a new place after they were pooped out by some bird. God is at work. Love wins. God loves us. God is here. God is enough. I truly believe those concepts to be true and broader than I can conceive. I cling. Hope invites. Again.
Three resources that immensely continue to impact my journey in difficult, painful times of loss include:
Drops Like Stars -- a book and a DVD (I was blessed to see this in person):
"We plot, we plan, we assume things are going to go a certain way and then they don't and we find ourselves ..."
http://www.amazon.com/Drops-Like-Stars-Creativity-Suffering/dp/0310275032
And another book, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp
http://www.amazon.com/One-Thousand-Gifts-Fully-Right/dp/0310321913
And a movie, Lars and the Real Girl, quirky, odd, and uncomfortable at times. It portrays loving community responding to a tragic loss for the main character. I found it simple, profound, and inspiring in leading me to just be with friends who have experienced suffering and/or loss.
In closing, we are in this together. If you are in a time of pain, suffering, grief, and/or loss, I pray you are well connected with a loving community like a small group at the local church or dear, committed friends and/or family. I also pray you watch carefully for hope to light the way a moment at a time, like a flickering candle in a dark room. And I pray that through this, through finding your "new normal," you will bring more to this world than was taken out.
Overall, knowing that Jesus died and rose again took on new meaning in all this for me. What is the eternal force in the world that is major evidence that God is? Love. What breaks the heart of love? Death. The separation from those we love. The love for those lost continues, but the separation breaks us. Jesus brought victory over death making it possible that love is not lost, and death is, well...in the brilliant words of Rossiter Worthington Raymond (1840-1918):
"Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight."
Dear reader, I do not know what suffering has crushed you. Perhaps even disappointment because expectations of how life was to look for you does not match your current reality, like your shoes, purse, and outfit so easily do. Hold on. Be patient. Grief does not follow my rules. Bummer.
I am learning to go hide in my "grace space." I run there to wait for help from God. Maybe you recognize your need for a time-out in your grace space place. I'm learning to recognize the symptoms of when I need to go sit in that emotional room and be quiet, which for me include when I'm feeling anger at others, fear of the future, guilt over the past, and anxiety. All related to my myth that I can control my life's circumstances in full, my "myth of control."
Dear reader, I do not know where you stand on who you trust to save you. Beyond circumstances, it is spiritual. We all believe in something. I could not survive without my faith in Christ and trust in God to be with me now and in the days to come. I hope you are with me in that journey. I hope you can find comfort today and recognize blessings that come in spite of suffering. Perhaps you can even find energy to go serve others on behalf of Christ's work and/or on behalf of the loved one lost. Generosity, if you can get to that point, brings good out of pain. And on days when that is just not possible, I pray that you sense an intangible God in those moments through tangible others around you, and the remaining beauty in life and nature.
Photo credit: http://spitshinedsoul.wordpress.com/tag/dream-2/
There is the immediate crisis that follows the actual event and managing to get through that minute-by-minute, but often the pain lingers and the bruises to our souls get bumped with the calendar...a birthday, a year after, and so on. We wish for some relief and work toward acceptance and a return to normal. But normal is now very different. Sometimes the goal is just to hang in there and remember we are not alone, though our personal journey to healing will be our own.
I heard myself say just the other day in an appropriate context, "One of my students was murdered in 1996...." People gasped. I paused and tried to connect to the violence of it all, the bruise that still lingers to each of our souls that knew her. Still felt surreal and my mind tells me I must have made it up. Awkward.
After all these years. Still no acceptance. I think that is the way it is and I think there is actually some wholeness in that ugly. If I were to truly accept it, I'd be giving up on a world the way it should be, with people treating each other safely. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done.
What happened to my student and my friend's colleague is NOT OK. It never will be. We live in that tension. That is what I must learn to accept. Like we are tuned between radio stations, sometimes totally annoying, sometimes I can block it out, sometimes I can accommodate the tension, and sometimes I am able to tune in to the beauty that is still with us.
I realize now that violent crime rips a hole in the peace of mind of any who witness and/or cared about the victims. An act against community. Do we forgive? Do we forget? Who has answers to these questions? I think there are moments of both that flash by and become stronger, like clapping for Tinkerbell to grow stronger. But the broader questions for me are always, "What now?" and since life will never be what I knew to be normal, "What good will come out of the darkness that includes me?"
And it will come. Good will come from this. We will be different, just like seeds die in the ground before forcing their way back into the sunshine to bloom in a new place after they were pooped out by some bird. God is at work. Love wins. God loves us. God is here. God is enough. I truly believe those concepts to be true and broader than I can conceive. I cling. Hope invites. Again.
Three resources that immensely continue to impact my journey in difficult, painful times of loss include:
Drops Like Stars -- a book and a DVD (I was blessed to see this in person):
"We plot, we plan, we assume things are going to go a certain way and then they don't and we find ourselves ..."
http://www.amazon.com/Drops-Like-Stars-Creativity-Suffering/dp/0310275032
And another book, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp
http://www.amazon.com/One-Thousand-Gifts-Fully-Right/dp/0310321913
And a movie, Lars and the Real Girl, quirky, odd, and uncomfortable at times. It portrays loving community responding to a tragic loss for the main character. I found it simple, profound, and inspiring in leading me to just be with friends who have experienced suffering and/or loss.
In closing, we are in this together. If you are in a time of pain, suffering, grief, and/or loss, I pray you are well connected with a loving community like a small group at the local church or dear, committed friends and/or family. I also pray you watch carefully for hope to light the way a moment at a time, like a flickering candle in a dark room. And I pray that through this, through finding your "new normal," you will bring more to this world than was taken out.
Overall, knowing that Jesus died and rose again took on new meaning in all this for me. What is the eternal force in the world that is major evidence that God is? Love. What breaks the heart of love? Death. The separation from those we love. The love for those lost continues, but the separation breaks us. Jesus brought victory over death making it possible that love is not lost, and death is, well...in the brilliant words of Rossiter Worthington Raymond (1840-1918):
"Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight."
Dear reader, I do not know what suffering has crushed you. Perhaps even disappointment because expectations of how life was to look for you does not match your current reality, like your shoes, purse, and outfit so easily do. Hold on. Be patient. Grief does not follow my rules. Bummer.
I am learning to go hide in my "grace space." I run there to wait for help from God. Maybe you recognize your need for a time-out in your grace space place. I'm learning to recognize the symptoms of when I need to go sit in that emotional room and be quiet, which for me include when I'm feeling anger at others, fear of the future, guilt over the past, and anxiety. All related to my myth that I can control my life's circumstances in full, my "myth of control."
Dear reader, I do not know where you stand on who you trust to save you. Beyond circumstances, it is spiritual. We all believe in something. I could not survive without my faith in Christ and trust in God to be with me now and in the days to come. I hope you are with me in that journey. I hope you can find comfort today and recognize blessings that come in spite of suffering. Perhaps you can even find energy to go serve others on behalf of Christ's work and/or on behalf of the loved one lost. Generosity, if you can get to that point, brings good out of pain. And on days when that is just not possible, I pray that you sense an intangible God in those moments through tangible others around you, and the remaining beauty in life and nature.
Friday, November 18, 2011
A Holiday, the Homeless, & Hope
Friday, November 11 - Veteran's Day and a day off from work...a great day. I woke at 4:00am to go five blocks from home. I'd volunteered with a city project to identify the homeless for possibly later accessing services and housing for the more vulnerable. It was part of a nationwide effort taking place in cities throughout the United States. One of our leaders mentioned how impressed he was with the diversity of our group: church groups, college students, high school students, social workers, business people, and neighbors. I felt glad to be part of that.
We went in teams of five, into the pre-dawn darkness, searched quietly through alleys and a park, in little coves tucked into buildings, and on benches, looking for our homeless neighbors. I was nervous at first, concerned about what I might encounter, both the heartache and the question of safety. We learned to spot earthly belongings hidden in bushes nearby, and find human-shaped lumps under blankets. We practiced a deeper dimension of respect for the least of these in our town.
We obeyed our training to never touch anyone to wake them, to never shine our flashlights in their faces, and to squat down to their level for conversation. We used our lights to illuminate our path, read our paperwork, and identify our faces to others. We would call out to the person to gently wake them, and ask if we could have their permission to take a survey and take their photo.
We sat on the cement together in several situations. We interviewed six people -- two couples and two singles, three women and three men. One refused to let us take her photo. That was OK. At times we laughed together because some had such humor in their circumstances. It was an odd, yet powerful moment to hear the laughter of a group of people newly connected and from such diverse circumstances. I felt happy. I learned about these people in my community.
We asked all the questions on this survey: social security number, height, weight, victim of violence on the streets, health condition and details, been to jail and/or prison, pets, how long they'd been homeless, how they make money, etc. It was very interesting. The data we collect will be dded to a national study and used to access services and possibly housing for the most vulnerable. The people we visited were articulate, sober, and engaging. Some of my stereotypes were shattered that day. We were back to volunteer central in two hours.
I felt connected to these six folks, though we'd just met. It was strange yet so humane. I walked away wishing I could come visit again from time to time and bring breakfast or pizza or wash their blankets, but I felt that ambition would probably fade once I returned to my routine. But I now drive through my city with different eyes and a bigger heart. I look carefully for the unseen living just beyond my view in this area. It felt like a dream to have time to hear a little of the stories of these fellow human beings.
That morning, it was my priority to shake the hand of each person we'd interviewed, look them in the eyes, and say their name as I said, "Nice to meet you." And I meant it. It was important to me because I think appropriate human touch is healing, no matter how insignificant. It was healing to me. I can't speak for the others. It was healing because I overcame my fear of these strangers, one at a time, after listening to their stories, and crafting some time in my life to care for them, even for just a moment. I will remember them. God bless you, Shawn & Tricia, Manual & Corrine, Bonnie, and Ector, a Vietnam vet.
On Veteran's Day, I served with others in my community to reach out to hidden people. In our current economic crisis, anyone can be homeless with a change in events and circumstances. I did not need to figure out if these folks were trouble to society, or evaluate if they deserved a break or not. I needed to figure out that they are human, too. I was moved. I am changed. These efforts in my life keep me aware of what really matters and keep my heart tender. These efforts keep the gospel fresh in my faith. All this, and it was barely 8:00am. Time for a nap and time to pause to reflect on the meaningful experience.
We went in teams of five, into the pre-dawn darkness, searched quietly through alleys and a park, in little coves tucked into buildings, and on benches, looking for our homeless neighbors. I was nervous at first, concerned about what I might encounter, both the heartache and the question of safety. We learned to spot earthly belongings hidden in bushes nearby, and find human-shaped lumps under blankets. We practiced a deeper dimension of respect for the least of these in our town.
We obeyed our training to never touch anyone to wake them, to never shine our flashlights in their faces, and to squat down to their level for conversation. We used our lights to illuminate our path, read our paperwork, and identify our faces to others. We would call out to the person to gently wake them, and ask if we could have their permission to take a survey and take their photo.
We sat on the cement together in several situations. We interviewed six people -- two couples and two singles, three women and three men. One refused to let us take her photo. That was OK. At times we laughed together because some had such humor in their circumstances. It was an odd, yet powerful moment to hear the laughter of a group of people newly connected and from such diverse circumstances. I felt happy. I learned about these people in my community.
We asked all the questions on this survey: social security number, height, weight, victim of violence on the streets, health condition and details, been to jail and/or prison, pets, how long they'd been homeless, how they make money, etc. It was very interesting. The data we collect will be dded to a national study and used to access services and possibly housing for the most vulnerable. The people we visited were articulate, sober, and engaging. Some of my stereotypes were shattered that day. We were back to volunteer central in two hours.
I felt connected to these six folks, though we'd just met. It was strange yet so humane. I walked away wishing I could come visit again from time to time and bring breakfast or pizza or wash their blankets, but I felt that ambition would probably fade once I returned to my routine. But I now drive through my city with different eyes and a bigger heart. I look carefully for the unseen living just beyond my view in this area. It felt like a dream to have time to hear a little of the stories of these fellow human beings.
That morning, it was my priority to shake the hand of each person we'd interviewed, look them in the eyes, and say their name as I said, "Nice to meet you." And I meant it. It was important to me because I think appropriate human touch is healing, no matter how insignificant. It was healing to me. I can't speak for the others. It was healing because I overcame my fear of these strangers, one at a time, after listening to their stories, and crafting some time in my life to care for them, even for just a moment. I will remember them. God bless you, Shawn & Tricia, Manual & Corrine, Bonnie, and Ector, a Vietnam vet.
On Veteran's Day, I served with others in my community to reach out to hidden people. In our current economic crisis, anyone can be homeless with a change in events and circumstances. I did not need to figure out if these folks were trouble to society, or evaluate if they deserved a break or not. I needed to figure out that they are human, too. I was moved. I am changed. These efforts in my life keep me aware of what really matters and keep my heart tender. These efforts keep the gospel fresh in my faith. All this, and it was barely 8:00am. Time for a nap and time to pause to reflect on the meaningful experience.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Practicing This Perspective
This is my current reference point. This is my motto for engaging others to consider my point of view on anything that may be different from theirs. I return the same respect to them. I've summed it up this way:
This is a quiet and peaceful way to get along. Or at least worth a try. In these days of campaigning and issues that impact life in this great nation, as well as in all things spiritual, this is my focus in respecting my fellow man...and woman, of course. Hoping for the same in return.
"Simple conversation. Gentle invitation. Sincere consideration."
- Cindi Peterson
This is a quiet and peaceful way to get along. Or at least worth a try. In these days of campaigning and issues that impact life in this great nation, as well as in all things spiritual, this is my focus in respecting my fellow man...and woman, of course. Hoping for the same in return.
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