Fun With Couches

We love our couches around here. 

Small Things

Houston grime sticks to my legs;
my summer dress blows in the slight breeze, stirring the smog.

//

I think of emaciated Clemencia who held my hand and wouldn't let go in the slums of Kenya.
I think of Ashmirah wearing her size-too-big rags, carrying her little brother Raju through the dirty streets of Kolkata.
I think of my homeless friend Cowboy who cried when he sat in my dining room for Thanksgiving because it had been so long since anyone had invited him into a home.

I think of the dirt, the pain, the loneliness.
I think of the hunger, the tears, the helplessness.

Sometimes it feels like there's just too much to do anything, to make any significant changes.

Then I have to remind myself of Clemencia who smiled when I wasn't afraid to touch her because of her AIDS.
I remind myself of the times Ashmirah and I danced on the sidewalks, and the times I played soccer with her brothers.
I think of the joy Cowboy had when he was invited to be a part of my family, if only for a small while.

I was not made to do exceptional things, to save the world, to change the course of history.

I was made for small things, for small moments, for small joys--the joys that come from listening, hand holding, and playing.

Maybe it's all the small kindnesses and small acts of vulnerability and love that will change the world.

I hope so. 

Being In Communal Love

I love the people I live with.
I really really do.

We get on each other's nerves.
We have hard conversations.
We have to confront ourselves in the guise of one another.
We struggle. A lot.

But at the end of the day, I'm committed to each one of them, to working it out.
And I think they're committed to me.

I was reminded of this several times yesterday while hanging out with Heather and Charlie.

Living in Community is the only way I want to live.

 

Subtle Beauty

I want to see the world in such a way that the beauty overwhelms the not-so-beautiful.
I want to see Light.

This week has been hard.
But it has also been full of beauty.

This week we said goodbye to Blue, the cat who has been living in the bushes by our apartment door.
We buried him this morning.

That was hard.

While that pain lingers, I see Life happening around me, in me, and through me.
And I have reasons to celebrate.

Taylor gave me a tattoo for my birthday.
The Chambered Nautilus.

"Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea!"
- Olive Wendell Holmes

 And the subtle Light in my neighborhood is sometimes staggering.
 

I have reasons to celebrate. 

What's Your Alternative?

I spent the last two days at a seminar for non-profit organization and grant writing. It doesn’t sound thrilling, but the speaker, BJ Douglass, spoke with such fierce and gentle love that she exposed hope in the midst of a sigh. Like a Southern Baptist preacher, she bellowed love and light from the front while we, her devoted pupils, shouted back, “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!” at each new revelation.

She said a lot of beautiful things, but one thing stuck out as an idea I had been contemplating this week. She said: 

“If you point out a problem and don’t have an alternative, you are part of the problem.”

There is a lot to complain about.

There are a lot of issues.

There is a lot of hurt.

I could complain all day long (and sometimes I do!), pointing out the harm and oppression brought about by patriarchy, fundamentalist religion, paternalism, racism, gentrification, classism, the misuse of limited resources, corrupt governments, child abuse, inadequate health resources, poverty, unequal housing and educational opportunities, colonialism, etc etc etc.

There is plenty to complain about.

But if I don’t present an alternative I’m just another angry woman playing into the system, being part of the problem.

If all I do is get angry and tell people how miserable the world is and how horrible we are to each other, I am the problem.

I need something else to offer.

Racist, sexist, classist systems exist and limit us from reaching our full potential and really living out of our true selves, so I seek racial, gender, and economic reconciliation by encouraging dialogue across divisive lines, looking into myself to find the root of the division hidden within and inviting people into that root to help me cut it down.

Patriarchy is oppressive and harmful to both women and men, so I unite with both women and men who are living in ways that reveal the dignity and equality of all people along the gender spectrum. I educate myself, listening to stories of people’s experiences, and seeking to share those stories in order for others to become aware.

Rugged individualism leads people into loneliness, isolation, frustration, and depression, so I live in community to show people there is another way to live; there is an alternative to self-dependence and co-dependence: INTER-dependence.

When you see the problem, don’t just get angry and complain about it, making dichotomies of the good people and bad people, pitting one group against another.

Get angry.

Go ahead, get real angry.

But let it go before it leads to hate.

Then start living a lifestyle that models an alternative. 

And let that lifestyle be ruled by love. 

Meet Me In The Bathroom

“Meet me in the bathroom?”

I read the email, squinting through the tears.

“ok,” I replied.

I turned away from my computer slowly to see my roommate walking into the bathroom, tears already in her eyes.

I followed her into our office’s bathroom. She shut the door. I fell onto her shoulder and sobbed, deep heaving sobs that bled the pain I’d been carrying around all day. Her arms held me tight in a way that told me she understood completely. I didn’t have to say a word. I was safe in that moment to be whatever I needed to be, completely understood, completely known, completely me.

When I was able to take a breath I pulled back and wiped my tears and snot off her cardigan. We looked into each others’ red brimmed eyes and attempted to smile.

//

Much earlier that morning, long before the sun rose, I laid in bed picking scabs of old wounds, touching the fleshy part beneath, reminding myself of the pain, wondering how I would be able to get out of bed the next morning.

The morning came and I stared at the ceiling wishing I could blend into the wall, chameleon-like, to disappear, to be part of the scenery.

All day tears moistened my eyes until they burned.  

After dragging my feet home that day, Taylor again came to my rescue and offered to make the dinner I was scheduled to cook. I crawled into bed and slept until dinner time.

After dinner and some refreshing laughter, I laid in bed again staring at the wall, wondering.

A comforting thought entered my mind, and I smiled:

You have always been a thought in God’s infinite memory.

I fell heavy into sleep.

How evangelicals won a culture war and lost a generation

Reposting this from Rachel Held Evans, who I had the opportunity to hear in Houston a few nights ago. 

Opinion by Rachel Held Evans, special to CNN

(CNN) - On March 24, World Vision announced that the U.S. branch of the popular humanitarian organization would no longer discriminate against employees in same-sex marriages.

It was a decision that surprised many but one that made sense, given the organization’s ecumenical nature.

But on March 26, World Vision President Richard Stearns reversed the decision, stating, “our board acknowledged that the policy change we made was a mistake.”

Supporters helped the aid group “see that with more clarity,” Stearns added, “and we’re asking you to forgive us for that mistake.”

So what happened within those 48 hours to cause such a sudden reversal?

The Evangelical Machine kicked into gear.

Albert Mohler Jr., president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, said the decision pointed to “disaster,” and the Assemblies of God denomination encouraged its members to pull their financial support from the organization.

Evangelicals took to Twitter and Facebook to threaten to stop sending money to their sponsored children unless World Vision reversed course.

Within a day of the initial announcement, more than 2,000 children sponsored by World Vision lost their financial support. And with more and more individuals, churches and organizations threatening to do the same, the charity stood to lose millions of dollars in aid that would otherwise reach the poor, sick, hungry and displaced people World Vision serves.

So World Vision reversed course.

Stearns told The New York Times that some people, satisfied with the reversal, have called World Vision headquarters to ask, “Can I have my child back?” as though needy children are expendable bargaining chips in the culture war against gay and lesbian people.

Many of us who grew up evangelical watched with horror as these events unfolded.

As a longtime supporter of World Vision, I encouraged readers of my blog to pick up some of the dropped sponsorships after the initial decision. I then felt betrayed when World Vision backtracked, though I urged my readers not to play the same game but to keep supporting their sponsored children, who are of course at no fault in any of this.

But most of all, the situation put into stark, unsettling relief just how misaligned evangelical priorities have become.

When Christians declare that they would rather withhold aid from people who need it than serve alongside gays and lesbians helping to provide that aid, something is wrong.

There is a disproportionate focus on homosexuality that consistently dehumanizes, stigmatizes and marginalizes gay and lesbian people and, at least in this case, prioritizes the culture war against them over and against the important work of caring for the poor.

Evangelicals insist that they are simply fighting to preserve “biblical marriage,” but if this were actually about “biblical marriage,” then we would also be discussing the charity’s policy around divorce.

But we’re not.

Furthermore, Scripture itself teaches that when we clothe and feed those in need, we clothe and feed Christ himself, and when we withhold care from those in need, we withhold it from Christ himself (Matthew 25:31-46).

Why are the few passages about homosexuality accepted uncritically, without regard to context or culture, but the many about poverty so easily discarded?

As I grieved with my (mostly 20- and 30-something) readers over this ugly and embarrassing situation, I heard a similar refrain over and over again: “I don’t think I’m an evangelical anymore. I want to follow Jesus, but I can’t be a part of this.”

I feel the same way.

Whether it’s over the denial of evolutionary science, continued opposition to gender equality in the church, an unhealthy alliance between religion and politics or the obsession with opposing gay marriage, evangelicalism is losing a generation to the culture wars.

A recent survey from Public Religion Research Institute revealed that nearly one-third of millennials who left their childhood faith did so because of “negative teachings” or “negative treatment” of gay and lesbian people.

Christians can disagree about what the Bible says (or doesn’t say) about same-sex marriage. This is not an issue of orthodoxy. But when we begin using child sponsorships as bargaining tools in our debates, we’ve lost the way of Jesus.

So my question for those evangelicals is this: Is it worth it?

Is a “victory” against gay marriage really worth leaving thousands of needy children without financial support?

Is a “victory” against gay marriage worth losing more young people to cynicism regarding the church?

Is a “victory” against gay marriage worth perpetuating the idea that evangelical Christians are at war with LGBT people?

And is a “victory” against gay marriage worth drowning out that quiet but persistent internal voice that asks, "what if we get this wrong?"

I, for one, am tired of arguing. I’m tired of trying to defend evangelicalism when its leaders behave indefensibly.

I’m going AWOL on evangelicalism's culture wars so I can get back to following Jesus among its many refugees: LGBT people, women called to ministry, artists, science-lovers, misfits, sinners, doubters, thinkers and “the least of these.”

I’m ready to stop waging war and start washing feet.

Sick of This Fruit

I’m sick from this American Christian fruit I’ve eaten for too long.

At first it looked enticing, offering some vague form of freedom and happiness if only I admit my own failure as a human being and submit to a deity who finds me offensive enough to kill, even though I’m supposedly made in its image. But because this god chooses not to kill me, I should be grateful and full of praise, overflowing with love. Like other-worldly Stockholm Syndrome, I’m expected to fall in love with a terrorist.

It made sense to point out the inconsistency in others, to support policies that upheld a squeaky clean presentation of Western privilege, to side with the majority of American Christians and say who is right and who is wrong based on everything except relationships and dialogue. It made sense to tell people “the truth in love” because loving meant telling the “other” how terrible they were so they could fix themselves, because I was the bearer of the only perspective that mattered. MY interpretation of an ancient text was the correct one. What I understood from my middle class, white American perspective was reality, no matter how different anyone else’s life or upbringing had been. We’re all equal, right? We’ve all had the same experiences, right? Therefore, everyone should agree with me because I am in the class of people who make the rules.

This is the American Christianity that would rather pull food out of hungry children’s mouths than allow an organization to stop discriminating against same sex couples. This is the Christianity that separates, divides, and builds walls. This is the Christianity that says, “You are wrong,” to anyone who doesn’t express their beliefs in exactly the same way as they do, without opening a dialogue, without listening to the other’s point of view without making assumptions or revving up an argument in their head. This is the Christianity that shames Jesus and makes the Pharisees look good.

As I choke on the bitter fruit of this American Evangelicalism culture, I eagerly seek for anything that can help me, anything that can remind me of something good within this ugliness. A reason to hang on.

I look through my inbox, reading through the blogs fromChristina Cleveland who seeks racial reconciliation, helping people to listen to others instead of box them up.

I read the updates from Marty Troyer whose Houston Mennonite Church seeks dialogue and understanding with oppressed and marginalized groups.

I read Jim Palmer’s blogs that remind me of the Divine within me and all around me that is Love.

I read Rachel Held Evans' plea for American Christians to look beyond theology and “correct” thinking, and engage with real people with real experiences.

I read insight and love from Justin Lee, a gay Christian man who, for one reasons or another, has not rejected Christianity despite the hate slung at him on a daily basis.

I listen to the realities of everyday folks who feel the sting of American Christianity's rejection, and the love of a Divine presence that is so much bigger.

I have to look for the people who are doing real reconciliation work instead of those who are only trying to defend their way of thinking and believing and trying to get others to conform.

I have to look at the people in my intentional community, people who disagree on every point from theology to house cleaning, people who are willing to live together, respect one another, listen to one another, and love one another despite all their differences.

I have to look at my own friends who have not abandoned me because my theology differs from theirs.

I have to look to the explanations of Christianity from the perspective of the oppressed, marginalized, and economically disadvantaged to remember that Christianity is not about the rich and powerful, it is not about who can yell the loudest and use their financial privilege as leverage, it is not about right theology, it is not about a belief system. It is about a life of radical inclusive love that leaves no one rejected.

Western Christianity rejects. Love embraces.

I end with a quote from Life of Pi by Yan Martel that my roommate read for our devotionals this morning:

“There are always those who take it upon themselves to defend God, as if Ultimate Reality, as if the sustaining frame of existence, were something weak and helpless. These people walk by a widow deformed by leprosy begging for a few paise, walk by children dressed in rags living in the street, and they think, "Business as usual." But if they perceive a slight against God, it is a different story. Their faces go red, their chests heave mightily, they sputter angry words. The degree of their indignation is astonishing. Their resolve is frightening.

These people fail to realize that it is on the inside that God must be defended, not on the outside. They should direct their anger at themselves. For evil in the open is but evil from within that has been let out. The main battlefield for good is not the open ground of the public arena but the small clearing of each heart. Meanwhile, the lot of widows and homeless children is very hard, and it is to their defense, not God's, that the self-righteous should rush.”

I Sit Content

"I exist as I am, that is enough,

If no other in the world be aware I sit content,

And if each and all be aware I sit content."

-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

A Break

After baking all day Saturday, my team and I set up our bake sale in front of our church and hoped for the best.

The result was $350 going toward our team fundraising goal!

This trimester has seemed so short. I came back from Christmas break in early January and I'm already preparing to go back to Phoenix for Spring Break this Friday. After this there's the last four month haul, no breaks.

While I'm in Phoenix for a week I will be meeting with folks to discuss future intentional community plans in the Glendale/Phoenix area, as well as getting together for game nights and potlucks.

Phoenix is home for me in a way Houston can't be. I felt the desire to root myself in a place and build relationships with people, and I knew Phoenix was that place. I know I will continually be led back.

However, it's strange to think about life after this community we've formed here in Fifth Ward.