Author Archives: Eileen
Do I Dare Call Myself a Christian?
Christianity
Christianity is accepting and sharing the love of God fleshed out in a Jew named Jesus.
Christianity is both an encounter and a relationship. It’s an experience and a process.
Christianity is growing in the knowledge and understanding of the unconditional love of God with both our mind and our heart, so that we can continue to respond, “Yes,” to God even when the going gets rough.
Christianity is, as Henri Nouwen writes in Reaching Out, a journey inward through our own brokenness to find God within, a journey outward to a broken world, and a journey together as earthen vessels, unique, flawed, but empowered.
Christianity is about realizing that though we have been filled with the Spirit of God, we leak.
Christianity can free us to recognize that the Spirit of God works in diverse ways in diverse people; sometimes like a geyser, sometimes like a brook, sometimes like an underground river.
Christianity involves recognizing that God is bigger than anybody’s bread box.
Christianity is valuing the fruit of the Spirit, peace, joy, and love, in whatever ethnic or religious context we encounter it.
Christianity is loving people more than loving thinking we’re right or feeling chosen.
Christianity is summed up in 1 Corinthians 13:1-7
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant of rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrong doing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Vs 12-13 For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three: and the greatest of these is love.
If this doesn’t humble us when we are claiming to be Christians or judging others, nothing will.
The American Tragedy
The tragedy of today’s America is that the middle class is systematically being wiped out by the policies of both political parties.
Neither party is willing to put the goal, of finding a way to fulfill every American’s right to life in a time of exorbitant costs for medical care, before political expediency. There is no longer the caring, commitment, and creativity needed to seek and find other solutions than leaving it to the government to solve the very real and critical crises of survival for many hardworking, middle-class Americans.
Thus, from necessity, the government will fill the void; its bureaucracy growing ever larger and more inefficient. And eventually the means will defeat the end of decent, affordable medical care for all Americans.
And the conflict from attempts to prioritize our rights to life and liberty will end with diminishing both.
Instead of regurgitating totally unchristian vituperation and polarizing political propaganda, why don’t we focus on recognizing the reality and severity of the problem, brainstorming solutions across party lines, and every single one of us praying, not for our personal agenda, but for enough love, commitment, and creativity to live up to our American dream of life, liberty, and justice for all.
What Is My Bliss?
One of the hardest things about life is discovering that it is NOT about being happy. Happiness is a by-product of the life long process of becoming the person that we were created to be. Ultimately, that involves becoming wise and loving.
Along the way we acquire knowledge and skills in order to survive, though obviously surviving is not the end purpose in life. We all die eventually.
Important parts of the process are recognizing that knowledge is not wisdom and need is not love.
Financial success and even accomplishment are not a necessary part of the process for everyone and most definitely not a substitute for becoming wise and loving for anyone.
Some of us just accept whatever we were taught by family and our particular era and culture. Others rebel against these in total. Both responses leave us trapped in a time warp and defeat the larger goal of helping humanity also become wiser and more loving.
Political opinions, philosophies, religious beliefs, if left unchallenged by questioning or other viewpoints, generally get carried to extremes to the point of becoming not only ridiculous, but destructive.
Truth is paradoxical. Our limited human perception leads us to half truths or warped truths. Our human tendency to delude ourselves that we see the whole truth and nothing but the truth pushes us into polarizing and alienating conflicts. And we never develop our ability to truly listen and to stretch our world views to encompass much needed balance.
Wisdom and love are inextricably linked. What often passes for love is destructive to both the giver and the receiver. Wise-love discriminates between needs and wants and respects the needs of all.
“What is my bliss?” is not the same question as “What makes me happy?” Rather it asks, “What are the ways I personally can best grow in wisdom and love?”
Pecs and Buns
Breathes there a woman, from age so dead, who never to herself has said, “Now, there goes a nice set of buns.”
I was asked recently, “When did you realize you were getting old?”
Realizing and feeling are two very different things. At seventy-eight I still don’t feel old, because all the people I’ve been at different ages are still part of me. Remembering is not like imagining. Remembering takes me back. I don’t have to imagine what it feels like to be young, because I’ve been there, done that.
But, I also remember clearly the day in my fifties, when I first realized I had reached the age of invisibility. I went into an auto repair shop for some help and though several men glanced my way, no one came forward to ask what I wanted. It was a wake-up call leading me to notice that men’s heads didn’t turn anymore when I came into a room or passed them on the street.
That was a traumatic entrance into an angst filled change of life.
Rites of Passage
Grieve with us for youthful beauty lost,
remembering our vibrant gracefulness
bright’ning eyes and turning manly heads.
Mourn it with us. Keen our woman’s loss.
A strange invisibility is now our aging fate,
like graying ghosts, unseen, we walk.
Beat your breast. Shred your public garment.
The maggot of our egocentricity
leaves a hollowness of empty vanity.
Wail. Keen. Howl. Beat the ritual drum.
Celebrate the death of youth until it can be borne.
EoN 1993
However, as I moved into my sixties, I discovered there actually was an upside to becoming invisible. This stage of my life involved a lot of travel, so I was spending many hours waiting in airports. There I discovered the fun of watching the young men walk by. I worried that someone would notice and consider me a dirty little old lady, until I remembered that I had on my invisibility of age cloak. After that, I spent many enjoyable hours comparing buns and deciding whether I was a pecs or buns woman. Someone needs to write a ‘Pecs and Buns’ song, similar to ‘Tits and Ass’ from the musical, Chorus Line.
Created for Comic Relief
Young Klutz
Created for Comic Relief.
I have a large collection of ‘being a klutz’ stories starting at about seven years old. This is one of the more memorable ones from when I was twenty.
Back in the days of the dinosaurs, young girls were not supposed to wear black. I never understood the why of this. But since I lived at home until I married at twenty-one, my mother had veto power over what I wore. When I was in my junior year in college, I finally got permission to buy a sophisticated black cocktail dress with a slightly daring neckline and swishy taffeta skirt. I was also allowed to wear mascara for the first time. I even pushed the envelope and wore dangly black and silver earrings and strappy high heels.
I thought I was the most glamorous and sexy gal, since Liz Taylor.
I got my mother to position my date strategically, so I could make a dramatic entrance coming down our staircase. All was well until about the fifth step from the bottom, when suddenly my sexy, strappy, high heels slipped out from under me. I bumped the rest of the way down on my slippery taffeta covered tush, landing finally with legs askew and mouth agape.
My date jumped to his feet, eyes large with horror, but hesitant as to how to extract me from my tangled plight. My mother, bless her, started hooting with laughter.
There was nothing else to do, but laugh. Once I did, the hilarity was contagious and we all laughed helplessly, tears streaming down our faces. By the time mom and my date calmed down enough to hoist me up, my tear streaked mascara made me look like I had come down the stairs on my face.
Some of us just weren’t meant to be sexy and glamorous. Some of us were created for comic relief.
Ignorance Is Curable. Stupidity Isn’t.
Ignorance is curable, stupidity isn’t.
Stupidity is thinking we personally know the whole truth, nothing but the truth, thus making us equal to God.
I remember reading a book by Henri Nouwen almost half of a century ago. It was Reaching Out. Nouwen writes about the Three Movements of the Spiritual Life: Journey Inward, Journey Outword, and Journey Together. The first part resonated joyfully for me, the second part I felt tentative about, but open to it’s possible truth, the third part threatened some of my most cherished beliefs and I rejected it immediately. Over the years I reread the book. The second time, I could joyously affirm the truths of both part one and part two. The third part still made me uneasy and didn’t find a home in my picture of reality. But since I had grown in my understanding of the other parts, I put it into my “possible” file. Eventually, I reread it and found that I had stretched my view of the world enough to encompass those truths.
Stupidity is when we don’t admit that the truths that make up our view of the world will always need stretching.
Woo Hoo! Still THE MAN.
Whoo Hoo! Still THE MAN
Through Memories
I look at you through memories
of running in the rain,
of funny children’s stories
and haunted Halloweens.
Of how you learned to hold me
and simply let me cry,
listening to my many fears
to heal me of my fright.
Of you overcoming phobias,
so I wouldn’t be alone
while camping in the woods
or giving talks on Type.
Of nightmare trips in broken cars
and cabins full of scouts,
houses filled with strangers
and jeep rides in the night.
Letters shared in parking lots
and rooms full of golden flowers,
the kaleidoscope of memories
that fill my heart with love.
Fifty-four years.
God’s Spiritually Challenged
I write often about Christianity being a journey, a process of growing wiser and more loving. Lest, I sound like I think I’ve mastered this, I need to share one of my more recent challenges in my seventies.
Until my sixties, I was a compulsive people pleaser, a gracious Southern phoney, who almost never confronted anyone. At some point, in my last few years, for better or worse, I have become free to be real. Maybe it’s a stage of life or a change in hormones. Whatever it is, I have become much less tolerant of rude and dangerous drivers.
Recently, in a burst of anger, I tried to make an obscene gesture at a particularly obnoxious driver. Unfortunately, due to lack of experience and an increasingly erratic short term memory, I gave him a “thumbs up” instead.
Frustrated by this, I decided that the next time I would yell obscenities out my car window.
But the following Sunday, the theme of the sermon was, If we are not growing kinder as we age, something is wrong with our Christianity.
Ouch!
I really struggled with this and when the next road test came, I did manage to compromise. I yelled, “Jesus loves you, but everyone else thinks you’re an idiot.”
Some of us grow more slowly than others. Feel free to pray for me. I may be old, but God isn’t finished with me yet.
A Change in Priorities
A joke about seniors illustrates very clearly how our priorities change as we age. Since I am currently re-evaluating what priorities are still within my skill set, this seemed like a timely re-post. 🙂
A senior citizen, who normally rode the Senior Center Bus on their outings, hadn’t shown up for several months. Then, one morning he showed up again.
Sam, his co-bus rider and pool playing buddy at the center, after being assured that Jim hadn’t been ill or out of town, asked him why he hadn’t been around lately.
“Well, I’ve met a lady at church and we’re going to get married. I came today to ask you to be my best man.”
“My goodness, sure I will. That’s great news. Tell me about her. Is she good looking?” Sam asked excitedly.
“Um, well, no, not really,” Jim replied hesitantly.
“Well, at our age that’s not as important as it used to be,” Sam assured him. “I bet she’s a real good cook.”
“Actually, she’s kind of a Kraft macaroni and cheese cook,” Jim said, shrugging.
“Oooh boy. You lucky son of a gun! I bet she must be hot to trot then. A between the sheets kinda gal?” Sam laughed, slapping his friend on the back.
Blushing and looking down at the floor, Jim mumbled, “She doesn’t seem very interested in sex.”
“Well, why in the world are you marrying her?” Sam exclaimed.
Jim looked up smiling, “She can drive.”
Death and Resurrection
Dying is messy. Most people don’t manage to die with their hair styled or tidily in their best suit and tie. Looking good isn’t what death is about.
Dying is often painful, both emotionally and physically. Even those, who find peace from acceptance or joy from a sense of God’s loving presence, struggle before getting to that point. Dying isn’t comfortable.
Dying is not a social event. It sometimes brings feelings of rejection, because some of our family and friends aren’t ready to face the reality of death, so they may get very busy elsewhere.
Dying is scary and lonely. Only a few have lived to tell about it. And though our loved ones may hold our hand, we know we must go alone.
Dying is an experience of total helplessness. No matter how rich or competent or powerful we are in life, dying wipes out the last illusion that we are in control.
Dying is the final cross. Not one we carry, but one we hang on, suspended between heaven and earth wondering if we’ve been abandoned on both sides.
Yet dying is the doorway to life. It’s a very narrow gate and it’s the only gate out.
The true Christian life (not the insurance game or the private club versions) is a series of deaths and resurrections that prepare us for that final one.
Deaths and resurrections such as:
Letting go of our need to look good by hiding behind masks: becoming free to be our truest and fullest self.
Letting go of our illusion of security from belonging to the right group: finding brothers and sisters where we never thought to look.
Letting go of our anesthetic of choice; work, competition, television, twitter, legalism, consumerism, food, sex, alcohol: by allowing ourselves to feel deeply the fears and sorrows of our lives, becoming capable of joy and love.
Letting go of our dependency on others: parents, spouses, friends, or anyone else for validation; recognizing the Spirit of God within our own hearts.
Letting go of needing talents, ministries, and achievements to feel valuable: finding inner peace from the unconditional love of God expressed in Jesus.
Letting go of everything as Jesus did:
“Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.” John 12:24-26
So, this is where it both ends and begins for us, on the cross with Jesus, being taken by Him through the doorway of death to eternal life.
