Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Gratitude day #30
I am grateful for the people in my church cell group. I am grateful to have people with whom I can be authentic and who can be authentic with me. There is nothing like having that space to be real, knowing that you are accepted no matter what, but that you will not just be accepted - you will also be challenged and held accountable. Love it! Love them!
Friday, March 29, 2013
Does God really exist?
*This post was supposed to have been posted on the 7th Mar, but because of internet issues, I see now it wasn't. Oh well!
When Zoe died, this was a question I had to grapple with. What my faith real? Even atheists have faith - they have faith that there is no God. So yes, my faith was real. Was the God I believed in real? Hmm... That was a harder one.
It wasn't the first time I'd asked that question, but it was the first time that I really took the time to think about it, to allow myself the space to contemplate the possibility that there wasn't a God. It was the first time that I gave myself permission for it to be okay if I decided there wasn't a God. (Well, if you read my blog regularly, you'll know what answer I found in my search.)
I've recently started reading a blog by Rachel Held Evans. She writes so beautifully, and honestly, and about deep stuff. I love her heart - she has such compassion for others. Her recent post, about the fact that so many Christians ask this very question, and have to grapple with it, really touched me. What touched me even more was the number of comments affirming the content of the post.
Our experience when we returned to SA was that we were surrounded by people who had NO IDEA of the pain we were in, or how much we hated the fact that they could experience such apparent joy - they had CLEARLY never suffered. While I now see that my response was very much coloured by my own grief, I do believe that, too often, church is a place where people pretend, where they behave in the manner they think they 'should' or 'ought' to.
Even now, my praise of God is always tinged by a halo of grief. I doubt that will ever change. I can't praise the way I used to, because now I know that there are times when God will not intervene, where He will not save, where He will not redeem, where He will not perform a miracle. It's not for lack of desire on his part, or lack of ability. It's because he has chosen to allow himself to be bound by the laws of physics and chaos. The world is far more chaotic than we think it is. The so-called 'Butterfly Effect' theory explains that well. So I still struggle to abandon myself in worship. Yet:
Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name
I think that is far more authentic worship - to know the depths of grief and pain, and even there, to be able to worship. But to the outside world, it doesn't look like "worship". There are no smiles, no adoring sighs, no hands raised, no head raised in wonder to the ceiling, no dancing a jig. Instead, there is hesitancy in uttering words, tears aplenty, groans that words cannot express, heads and shoulders bowed - not because we DON'T believe, but because we do. We believe, despite everything. We are broken, at the foot of the cross.
Too often, we judge the exterior appearance. Too often, we heap scorn on those who are different, who worship differently, because we cannot hear their heart, or know their inmost thoughts.
I am guilty of this. I am guilty of looking around during worship, judging who is *really* connecting with God, or wondering what others think of me & my worship style. I, too, need to remember that for many, the fact that they are in church is a victory, a miracle, a sign that there is forward movement in their faith. I need to be gentle, loving and kind with others, and with myself.
Each of us, at least once in our lives, will have to ask and answer this question. For some of us, it comes around with regularity. Just as you think you've got a handle on the answer, you discover another angle, another facet you hadn't considered, another obstacle in your path. Once again, you will have to dig deep to find the courage to face this question head on, to be honest in your search and honest in your answer.
To those who have yet to start this journey - don't judge us: we are not weaker than you, or less faithful than you, or less intelligent than you - we are merely struggling with the vagaries of life and with a cognitive dissonance that must be resolved if we are to move forward. Don't patronise us: nothing hurts more than Biblical exhortations and social niceties. Don't ignore us: the questions we ask have value beyond belief, for us personally, but for the Church as well. Don't exclude us: we need you as much as you need us - we are part of the same Body.
To those who have already completed this journey - have patience with the rest of us still on it. Pray for those of us on this journey - we need the encouragement, support and prayer of 'that multitude of saints who surround us'.
To those on this journey, I applaud you. It takes guts to walk this road. I pray you reach your destination.
When Zoe died, this was a question I had to grapple with. What my faith real? Even atheists have faith - they have faith that there is no God. So yes, my faith was real. Was the God I believed in real? Hmm... That was a harder one.
It wasn't the first time I'd asked that question, but it was the first time that I really took the time to think about it, to allow myself the space to contemplate the possibility that there wasn't a God. It was the first time that I gave myself permission for it to be okay if I decided there wasn't a God. (Well, if you read my blog regularly, you'll know what answer I found in my search.)
I've recently started reading a blog by Rachel Held Evans. She writes so beautifully, and honestly, and about deep stuff. I love her heart - she has such compassion for others. Her recent post, about the fact that so many Christians ask this very question, and have to grapple with it, really touched me. What touched me even more was the number of comments affirming the content of the post.
Our experience when we returned to SA was that we were surrounded by people who had NO IDEA of the pain we were in, or how much we hated the fact that they could experience such apparent joy - they had CLEARLY never suffered. While I now see that my response was very much coloured by my own grief, I do believe that, too often, church is a place where people pretend, where they behave in the manner they think they 'should' or 'ought' to.
Even now, my praise of God is always tinged by a halo of grief. I doubt that will ever change. I can't praise the way I used to, because now I know that there are times when God will not intervene, where He will not save, where He will not redeem, where He will not perform a miracle. It's not for lack of desire on his part, or lack of ability. It's because he has chosen to allow himself to be bound by the laws of physics and chaos. The world is far more chaotic than we think it is. The so-called 'Butterfly Effect' theory explains that well. So I still struggle to abandon myself in worship. Yet:
Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name
I think that is far more authentic worship - to know the depths of grief and pain, and even there, to be able to worship. But to the outside world, it doesn't look like "worship". There are no smiles, no adoring sighs, no hands raised, no head raised in wonder to the ceiling, no dancing a jig. Instead, there is hesitancy in uttering words, tears aplenty, groans that words cannot express, heads and shoulders bowed - not because we DON'T believe, but because we do. We believe, despite everything. We are broken, at the foot of the cross.
Too often, we judge the exterior appearance. Too often, we heap scorn on those who are different, who worship differently, because we cannot hear their heart, or know their inmost thoughts.
I am guilty of this. I am guilty of looking around during worship, judging who is *really* connecting with God, or wondering what others think of me & my worship style. I, too, need to remember that for many, the fact that they are in church is a victory, a miracle, a sign that there is forward movement in their faith. I need to be gentle, loving and kind with others, and with myself.
Each of us, at least once in our lives, will have to ask and answer this question. For some of us, it comes around with regularity. Just as you think you've got a handle on the answer, you discover another angle, another facet you hadn't considered, another obstacle in your path. Once again, you will have to dig deep to find the courage to face this question head on, to be honest in your search and honest in your answer.
To those who have yet to start this journey - don't judge us: we are not weaker than you, or less faithful than you, or less intelligent than you - we are merely struggling with the vagaries of life and with a cognitive dissonance that must be resolved if we are to move forward. Don't patronise us: nothing hurts more than Biblical exhortations and social niceties. Don't ignore us: the questions we ask have value beyond belief, for us personally, but for the Church as well. Don't exclude us: we need you as much as you need us - we are part of the same Body.
To those who have already completed this journey - have patience with the rest of us still on it. Pray for those of us on this journey - we need the encouragement, support and prayer of 'that multitude of saints who surround us'.
To those on this journey, I applaud you. It takes guts to walk this road. I pray you reach your destination.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Transformation, not preservation
The saying goes that you never know what you've got till it's gone. There's truth in that, which I guess is why I appreciate my little groupie group so much.
Last year, in October-ish, G and I started leading a new cell group at our church. 3 months ago we took a break so that we could attend a parenting course. At the time, I was grateful for the break, as I'd found leading more intensive than I'd bargained for - as usual, too many other things on the go.
As much as I really enjoyed the parenting course, and loved the people in my new group, after a few weeks, I really started to miss my little groupie group. So it was with great joy that we finally met together again for the first time tonight.
I am re-energised for the next 6 months. I am looking forward to growing with these people, being challenged by God and held accountable by them, leading them to deeper depths and higher heights in their relationship with God and each other.
Maybe that sounds all a bit airy-fairy and pie in the sky - typically religious. Hmm... yet it's true, never the less. One of the things that has stuck with me from the past few months is a statement that one of the preachers made: if you're in the same place that you were a year or 18 months ago, then you're dying, because God is in the business of transformation, not preservation. That sums up what I believe God has been challenging me on. It's time for me to respond.
So, these next 6 months I am going to do my best to be intentional about this group - about challenging them, about challenging myself, about making this group really accountable (we have a safe space, so that's possible), and about doing my best to respond to God's challenge to move forward and not stay in the same place. You can hold me accountable to it too.
Last year, in October-ish, G and I started leading a new cell group at our church. 3 months ago we took a break so that we could attend a parenting course. At the time, I was grateful for the break, as I'd found leading more intensive than I'd bargained for - as usual, too many other things on the go.
As much as I really enjoyed the parenting course, and loved the people in my new group, after a few weeks, I really started to miss my little groupie group. So it was with great joy that we finally met together again for the first time tonight.
I am re-energised for the next 6 months. I am looking forward to growing with these people, being challenged by God and held accountable by them, leading them to deeper depths and higher heights in their relationship with God and each other.
Maybe that sounds all a bit airy-fairy and pie in the sky - typically religious. Hmm... yet it's true, never the less. One of the things that has stuck with me from the past few months is a statement that one of the preachers made: if you're in the same place that you were a year or 18 months ago, then you're dying, because God is in the business of transformation, not preservation. That sums up what I believe God has been challenging me on. It's time for me to respond.
So, these next 6 months I am going to do my best to be intentional about this group - about challenging them, about challenging myself, about making this group really accountable (we have a safe space, so that's possible), and about doing my best to respond to God's challenge to move forward and not stay in the same place. You can hold me accountable to it too.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
"A great cloud of witnesses"
I'm really enjoying our church's series on Tough Questions at the moment - "Helping believers think and thinkers believe". This morning's talk was entitled 'Isn't the Bible's sex ethic hopelessly outdated'? Although much of it wasn't new to me, I found the logical way it was presented, and the aspects the preacher chose to highlight, very helpful in thinking it through myself again. I won't spoil it for those who want to listen to the talk - you should be able to download it here from tomorrow. I'd highly recommend it.
However, I had another "moment" before then that I will share with you. I've just finished reading Jodie Picoult's 'Second Glance', which looks at eugenics in the 1930s in Vermont, USA (which the Nazis claim they based their practices and beliefs on). Another theme running through the book is about ghosts - whether they exist, or why they exist. It got me thinking about what I believe, and why, on this issue.
I definitely believe in the spirit realm, and I believe that people's spirits can roam free from their bodies, but I'm not sure whether I believe they can remain free roaming after death. I definitely believe that what we see here is not all there is, that this physical world is but one small part of the world that really exists, that the spirit realm is all around us, all the time.
As we started worshipping, I was reminded of the "great cloud of witnesses" (Heb 12:1) who surround us...
Hebrews 12: 22: But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, 23 to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, 24 to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant.
As we started worshipping I could feel these witnesses gathered around us and among us, as heaven was opened and we were ushered into the very presence of Jesus, worshipping him together - those who had been with we who are. I couldn't see him, or them, but I knew where we were, and I knew who was around us. It wasn't eerie at all - rather, it was comforting.
As I pondered this, I wept. I wept out of gratitude that I am counted in that number, that one day I will take my place among them, that God's grace has been extended to me. I also wept for those I know who are not yet in that number, those who still walk in darkness, not even aware of what they don't have, or else aware, but searching in all the wrong places.
However, I had another "moment" before then that I will share with you. I've just finished reading Jodie Picoult's 'Second Glance', which looks at eugenics in the 1930s in Vermont, USA (which the Nazis claim they based their practices and beliefs on). Another theme running through the book is about ghosts - whether they exist, or why they exist. It got me thinking about what I believe, and why, on this issue.
I definitely believe in the spirit realm, and I believe that people's spirits can roam free from their bodies, but I'm not sure whether I believe they can remain free roaming after death. I definitely believe that what we see here is not all there is, that this physical world is but one small part of the world that really exists, that the spirit realm is all around us, all the time.
As we started worshipping, I was reminded of the "great cloud of witnesses" (Heb 12:1) who surround us...
Hebrews 12: 22: But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, 23 to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, 24 to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant.
As we started worshipping I could feel these witnesses gathered around us and among us, as heaven was opened and we were ushered into the very presence of Jesus, worshipping him together - those who had been with we who are. I couldn't see him, or them, but I knew where we were, and I knew who was around us. It wasn't eerie at all - rather, it was comforting.
As I pondered this, I wept. I wept out of gratitude that I am counted in that number, that one day I will take my place among them, that God's grace has been extended to me. I also wept for those I know who are not yet in that number, those who still walk in darkness, not even aware of what they don't have, or else aware, but searching in all the wrong places.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Tough Questions
For many people, there are some BIG questions to be asked about faith and religion, and about faith in Jesus Christ in particular. They look at the Church (global) and they look at Christians today, and decide they want nothing to do with it, or with God. In the words of Rigby Wallace, though, if you think churches are filled with people who are perfect, or close to being perfect, then you couldn't be more wrong. Churches are filled with people who are all too aware of their sin, or their shortcomings - that's one of the reasons they're in church in the first place.
I'm not the best advert for Christianity at the moment either. Despite that though, people ask me the difficult questions - why does God allow suffering? Surely science has disproved the existence of God? Surely evolution and the Bible are incompatible? Wasn't Jesus just a good (moral) teacher and not really God? Surely all religions lead to God? Surely the Bible is a man-made construct, not the Word of God? Does God really hate all homosexuals?
Questions like this indicate me to that the person asking is genuinely searching for something. While I can attempt an answer, there usually isn't enough time to really explore these issues with the person concerned, so I usually recommend a host of really good books they can borrow from me - I particularly like C.S. Lewis and John Stott's books.
Common Ground Church is currently running a series looking at these tough questions. Last week looked at how a loving God can allow suffering. Today looked at whether or not science has disproved God and religion. So far, I've found the talks very good, given the limited amount of time to discuss the topic. If you are at all interested, then do click on the link and download the talks as they are uploaded to the site.
It might just change your life.
I'm not the best advert for Christianity at the moment either. Despite that though, people ask me the difficult questions - why does God allow suffering? Surely science has disproved the existence of God? Surely evolution and the Bible are incompatible? Wasn't Jesus just a good (moral) teacher and not really God? Surely all religions lead to God? Surely the Bible is a man-made construct, not the Word of God? Does God really hate all homosexuals?
Questions like this indicate me to that the person asking is genuinely searching for something. While I can attempt an answer, there usually isn't enough time to really explore these issues with the person concerned, so I usually recommend a host of really good books they can borrow from me - I particularly like C.S. Lewis and John Stott's books.
Common Ground Church is currently running a series looking at these tough questions. Last week looked at how a loving God can allow suffering. Today looked at whether or not science has disproved God and religion. So far, I've found the talks very good, given the limited amount of time to discuss the topic. If you are at all interested, then do click on the link and download the talks as they are uploaded to the site.
It might just change your life.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Distinctly discomforted
We were at some leadership training stuff at church tonight during which the leaders of the Common Good Foundation did a short presentation. Sarah through out two one liners that I really loved, and wanted to record for posterity, because they've made a real impact on my thinking (more on that in another post though - it's too late now...)
- Live lives of social justice; don't perform acts of social justice.
- The Common Good Foundation is not the out-sourced arm of the church's response to social injustice and poverty - it is there to coach and support individuals, leaders and groups as they respond.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
So much to say...
... and simply no time in which to say it.
I don't know whether you've noticed, but my blog title changed a while back. It's called a double-ended candle for a reason... I seem to burning mine at both ends all the time.
This weekend was no exception. In between trying to sort out the stuff for the Open Day at school, it was also Nellie's sports day (video will go up on her blog in due course), our maid arrived late and without her keys (so I had to nip home to let her in), we were shopping frantically to get prices on kennels for our new dogs (due to arrive next week some time), my study group was meeting to work on our project, and I had an exam paper to set and analyse...
I'm sorry to have to admit that I fell asleep on several occasions in church this morning. It was a great sermon, all about the importance of character, calling, striving for excellence and something else, as they relate to the work place. Thank God the church puts the sermons up, so I can go and download it in a few days and re-read it.
So much seems to have happened in the past few days I want to tell you about - a break through with another troublesome boy in one of my classes, my matrics leaving and their final pranks, Nellie's trip to the paediatrician, Graeme getting his scooter licence, etc, etc, etc.... but right now, I need to get some SLEEP if I ever hope of making it through this week.
One exciting piece of news is that I have my first proper nappucino tomorrow evening with a regte, egte set of clients!! I'm very excited, but quite nervous too.
Anyway, time for bed. Hope you all had a more restful weekend than I did!
I don't know whether you've noticed, but my blog title changed a while back. It's called a double-ended candle for a reason... I seem to burning mine at both ends all the time.
This weekend was no exception. In between trying to sort out the stuff for the Open Day at school, it was also Nellie's sports day (video will go up on her blog in due course), our maid arrived late and without her keys (so I had to nip home to let her in), we were shopping frantically to get prices on kennels for our new dogs (due to arrive next week some time), my study group was meeting to work on our project, and I had an exam paper to set and analyse...
I'm sorry to have to admit that I fell asleep on several occasions in church this morning. It was a great sermon, all about the importance of character, calling, striving for excellence and something else, as they relate to the work place. Thank God the church puts the sermons up, so I can go and download it in a few days and re-read it.
So much seems to have happened in the past few days I want to tell you about - a break through with another troublesome boy in one of my classes, my matrics leaving and their final pranks, Nellie's trip to the paediatrician, Graeme getting his scooter licence, etc, etc, etc.... but right now, I need to get some SLEEP if I ever hope of making it through this week.
One exciting piece of news is that I have my first proper nappucino tomorrow evening with a regte, egte set of clients!! I'm very excited, but quite nervous too.
Anyway, time for bed. Hope you all had a more restful weekend than I did!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The search for perfection
Since Zoe's death last year, we've been struggling with our faith. It's been really hard to reconcile the idea of an all-loving God, with one who would allow our child to die. For this reason, we've struggled to be part of a community of worship, because we haven't felt able to worship, and it's rather difficult to want to rage in a place where everyone else seems to be so peaceful and joyful. Needless to say, our church attendance has been rather sporadic.
While we sorted out jobs and home stuff, we decided to just return to our 'old' church, for the sake of at least having something stable in our lives. It was lovely seeing familiar faces, but the whole experience felt incredibly disjointed. We are different people (as one would expect after 8 years), and the church is different too in many respects. We used to be evening service people, now we have to be morning people. That in itself is a huge change.
But after a year of trying to make it work, we've decided that it just isn't. We've made some good friends through our cell group, and we will miss them if we leave. The problem is that our 'old' church, while being wonderful and having a lot of stuff we want to be involved in, just doesn't 'fit' with us anymore, or we with it.
It's too far away, for one. Living down the road from our church for so many years now, we've learned the benefit of being part of a local community. We want that again. The service times were also falling across Nellie's nap time, which made it very difficult for us to take part in the service (and their cry room facility leaves a lot to be desired). Being different people, it was very hard to be treated by many of the familiar faces as the people we were when we left. Of course, that's a natural reaction, and I'm sure we treated them as if they were the same people as when we left. It was also very difficult having to explain Zoe all the time when our grief was so raw, and most of them knew about her through someone else. Nellie also didn't like the creche, which meant that one of us never got to the service anyway.
Since we're planning another baby, we decided that we really need to find a church we can settle in for a few years - a place that will provide us with stability and support in the coming months. We will need that if we have another stillbirth. So a few months back we took the decision to start church shopping.
When you go church shopping, what do you look for in a church? Most people will agree - good teaching, good worship, good fellowship, good opportunities for service & mission-orientated. So far so good.
But then come the more difficult issues. Which doctrines are central for you? Which doctrines would you be willing to accept a different interpretation of Scripture on in order to attend? Some things are non-negotiable for us: Christ-centered, Bible-based, Holy Spirit inspired. But that still leaves a lot of room for manoeuvre.
Tonight we attended an introduction to the church we are considering joining. Everything sounded really good, but there were two issues raised for us:
1) Infant baptism vs believers' baptism by full immersion
2) Women in leadership
I want to discuss these in some detail, because I think each warrants a proper discussion, not only in terms of doctrine, but in terms of the importance of that doctrine to the big picture of becoming members (or not) of this church.
However, right now, my husband is waiting for me. Tonight I'm going to fall pregnant - I can feel it in my bones! And to be honest, that is more important, so this lovely discussion will have to wait for another time.
Sleep well, everyone!
While we sorted out jobs and home stuff, we decided to just return to our 'old' church, for the sake of at least having something stable in our lives. It was lovely seeing familiar faces, but the whole experience felt incredibly disjointed. We are different people (as one would expect after 8 years), and the church is different too in many respects. We used to be evening service people, now we have to be morning people. That in itself is a huge change.
But after a year of trying to make it work, we've decided that it just isn't. We've made some good friends through our cell group, and we will miss them if we leave. The problem is that our 'old' church, while being wonderful and having a lot of stuff we want to be involved in, just doesn't 'fit' with us anymore, or we with it.
It's too far away, for one. Living down the road from our church for so many years now, we've learned the benefit of being part of a local community. We want that again. The service times were also falling across Nellie's nap time, which made it very difficult for us to take part in the service (and their cry room facility leaves a lot to be desired). Being different people, it was very hard to be treated by many of the familiar faces as the people we were when we left. Of course, that's a natural reaction, and I'm sure we treated them as if they were the same people as when we left. It was also very difficult having to explain Zoe all the time when our grief was so raw, and most of them knew about her through someone else. Nellie also didn't like the creche, which meant that one of us never got to the service anyway.
Since we're planning another baby, we decided that we really need to find a church we can settle in for a few years - a place that will provide us with stability and support in the coming months. We will need that if we have another stillbirth. So a few months back we took the decision to start church shopping.
When you go church shopping, what do you look for in a church? Most people will agree - good teaching, good worship, good fellowship, good opportunities for service & mission-orientated. So far so good.
But then come the more difficult issues. Which doctrines are central for you? Which doctrines would you be willing to accept a different interpretation of Scripture on in order to attend? Some things are non-negotiable for us: Christ-centered, Bible-based, Holy Spirit inspired. But that still leaves a lot of room for manoeuvre.
Tonight we attended an introduction to the church we are considering joining. Everything sounded really good, but there were two issues raised for us:
1) Infant baptism vs believers' baptism by full immersion
2) Women in leadership
I want to discuss these in some detail, because I think each warrants a proper discussion, not only in terms of doctrine, but in terms of the importance of that doctrine to the big picture of becoming members (or not) of this church.
However, right now, my husband is waiting for me. Tonight I'm going to fall pregnant - I can feel it in my bones! And to be honest, that is more important, so this lovely discussion will have to wait for another time.
Sleep well, everyone!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Farewell
Barry's funeral was on Wednesday afternoon. It was as beautiful as these things can be. Unusually, it was a communion service, but it felt so right given that my uncle was such a devout Christian - I learnt that not only is he a warden and sidesman, but also the treasurer.
The church tradition is 'high' church (or at least, it's a lot 'higher' than my experience of Anglicanism). This means that the clergy and others helping to run the service all wear robes (and stoles for clergy); when entering or leaving a pew, or when crossing the church in front of the altar, one genuflects to the cross; crossing oneself when certain words or phrases are used is expected; the congregation stands for the reading of the Gospel. I was surprised that the Gospel wasn't paraded into church and that incense and bells weren't used. A lot of it felt odd to me, because my tradition is much 'lower' church - I'm not a pomp and ceremony kind of girl. And yet... and yet...I realised something that I would not have previously anticipated.
G and I have recently been going to a non-denominational, charismatic church. (Ooooh boy, I can see how admitting that is going to open up a whole can of worms for some people!) While we love a lot of things about the church, it's not the perfect church, and I'm not even sure if it's the perfect church for us.
Sitting in the funeral service on Wednesday, I realised that I have really missed the Anglican liturgy. I found myself not only able to sing the hymns by heart (apart from one), but I was able to participate in the liturgy by heart too. (From a practical perspective, that was probably a good thing, because I was crying so often during the service that I would have struggled to read text anyway.) I finally had an experience of how liturgy can be a useful, supportive, encouraging thing. This is not to say that I've been anti-liturgy, because I haven't been; merely that I am not a liturgy kind of girl.
I don't like formulaic religion that does what it does because that's the way it's always been done. Religion like that is often empty and meaningless. For many years, as a child growing up in the church, I would recite liturgy without even thinking about it. When I realised what I was doing, I began to hate liturgy. I needed something to make communion 'fresh' to me, to help me realise what it's all about, why it's such a sacred (and yet secular) experience. I didn't get that from liturgy.
But on Wednesday, I suddenly saw a new side to liturgy. I found being able to recite the prayers comforting. In many ways, being in that church felt like coming home, which was odd since it was the first time I've ever set foot in that building. But that's precisely what one of the aims of liturgy is - it's supposed to make it easy for Christians to go to an Anglican church anywhere in the world, and feel at home; it's supposed to remind us that we are all part of one family, with one purpose for gathering together. On Wednesday, it succeeded in that role for me.
But I realised something else on Wednesday.... right now, my precious Zoe is getting to enjoy her great-uncle! His laugh, his sense of fun, his twinkling eyes - his love of children - she is getting to experience that right now. And he is getting to experience her in all her beauty and grace. And that comforts me too. I miss him, and I miss her, but at least they are together now, and one day, all of my family will join them, and together we will worship our God - there can be no more precious experience than to worship our Maker and Master as a family. I look forward to that day.
The church tradition is 'high' church (or at least, it's a lot 'higher' than my experience of Anglicanism). This means that the clergy and others helping to run the service all wear robes (and stoles for clergy); when entering or leaving a pew, or when crossing the church in front of the altar, one genuflects to the cross; crossing oneself when certain words or phrases are used is expected; the congregation stands for the reading of the Gospel. I was surprised that the Gospel wasn't paraded into church and that incense and bells weren't used. A lot of it felt odd to me, because my tradition is much 'lower' church - I'm not a pomp and ceremony kind of girl. And yet... and yet...I realised something that I would not have previously anticipated.
G and I have recently been going to a non-denominational, charismatic church. (Ooooh boy, I can see how admitting that is going to open up a whole can of worms for some people!) While we love a lot of things about the church, it's not the perfect church, and I'm not even sure if it's the perfect church for us.
Sitting in the funeral service on Wednesday, I realised that I have really missed the Anglican liturgy. I found myself not only able to sing the hymns by heart (apart from one), but I was able to participate in the liturgy by heart too. (From a practical perspective, that was probably a good thing, because I was crying so often during the service that I would have struggled to read text anyway.) I finally had an experience of how liturgy can be a useful, supportive, encouraging thing. This is not to say that I've been anti-liturgy, because I haven't been; merely that I am not a liturgy kind of girl.
I don't like formulaic religion that does what it does because that's the way it's always been done. Religion like that is often empty and meaningless. For many years, as a child growing up in the church, I would recite liturgy without even thinking about it. When I realised what I was doing, I began to hate liturgy. I needed something to make communion 'fresh' to me, to help me realise what it's all about, why it's such a sacred (and yet secular) experience. I didn't get that from liturgy.
But on Wednesday, I suddenly saw a new side to liturgy. I found being able to recite the prayers comforting. In many ways, being in that church felt like coming home, which was odd since it was the first time I've ever set foot in that building. But that's precisely what one of the aims of liturgy is - it's supposed to make it easy for Christians to go to an Anglican church anywhere in the world, and feel at home; it's supposed to remind us that we are all part of one family, with one purpose for gathering together. On Wednesday, it succeeded in that role for me.
But I realised something else on Wednesday.... right now, my precious Zoe is getting to enjoy her great-uncle! His laugh, his sense of fun, his twinkling eyes - his love of children - she is getting to experience that right now. And he is getting to experience her in all her beauty and grace. And that comforts me too. I miss him, and I miss her, but at least they are together now, and one day, all of my family will join them, and together we will worship our God - there can be no more precious experience than to worship our Maker and Master as a family. I look forward to that day.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Arise!
A milestone reached.... Graeme and I went to the evening service at church on our own for the first time EVER since we've returned home, and I think even for the first time since Janel was born.
The preacher was a friend of ours who runs a project called 'The Warehouse'. Their aim is community upliftment through various projects that they run. As a result, he works with the poor a lot. More about that in a moment though.
Being in church was both amazing and unbearable. Graeme and I have really been struggling with the issue of not really feeling like we belong to a church, and therefore, with trying to find somewhere to belong to. Before we left SA in 2000, we were members of the evening service. Since our return, we've been going to the family service. We don't know the people there, and it's really not a service we feel comfortable in for various other reasons that I don't want to air here. Mostly, we want a community like we had at the Ascension. We want to be part of a small to medium sized church where you can actually know everyone by sight, and where you can actually know a large number of people by name. We also want a church that has great teaching, great worship, and great children's church. So, not much then really.
In the past, when I've moved churches, I've known which church was the right one to join by the feeling of coming home I had when I sat down in the church. It's happened every single time I've moved to a church that has blessed me and challenged me. As yet, I haven't had that feeling when we've been back to our 'old' church, and I haven't felt that in any church we've visited.
Sadly, I didn't feel that last night either. (I bet you thought that was where this story was going, didn't you?!) However, as I looked around at the people in the service it struck me how many of the faces were familiar. When we left Ascension, everyone there had stood round us, as communities ought to, in grief over losing Zoe. I looked at these dear people, who had meant so much to us, but who really had never known us. I wondered how they would have reacted if we had lost Zoe here instead of in the UK. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by a desire to share our story with them, to tell them about our loss, to have them put their arms around us and enfold us in love.
It struck me though, that it was in this community, rather than any we had thus far experienced, that we were probably most likely to find the depth of relationship I am craving. I know these people loved us in their own way before, and they could do so again. Revelation #1.
As we began to worship, I promptly burst into tears, and proceeded to spend the rest of the worship with my eyes and nose overflowing, and no tissues anywhere in sight. I was battling to sing the words and mean them. All I kept thinking was, 'How can I say You are worthy of praise, or God Almighty, when you let my child die?' - or thoughts to that effect. I know that my real problem is that I'm struggling to trust God. As C.S.Lewis expressed it - the problem of pain is that the only solution to it seems to be that either God is not all-powerful, or he is not all-loving.
As I was grappling with this, I heard God's quiet voice asking me just to let go and trust Him, not to try and reason it out. And I just couldn't. I want an explanation. I want to know why. I'm not sure what effect knowing will have, whether it will drive me further away or give me a way out.
As I continued grappling, once again God spoke quietly to me. He reminded me of the last time He asked the seemingly impossible of me. For most people, if you asked them what they would most hate God to ask them to do, it would be to go to China as a missionary (or something similar). For me, it was to give up my dream of coming back to SA and staying in the UK permanently. I grappled with that question for months before I could come to a place of relinquishing my home and my family and saying, 'Not my will, but Yours, o Lord.'
But God hadn't asked me to give up my family, or South Africa. In a sense, at that time, I felt like Abraham, who had been given the son he craved, the son God had promised, and then had been asked to sacrifice him. He got to the point of having tied up his son, put him on the altar, and was raising the knife to kill him, when God stopped him. At the time, I felt like God granted me a reprieve. Once I was able to submit, He told me that he didn't require that of me. (Sjoe! That was a close one!)
As I was remembering all this though, it suddenly struck me that God was now asking the 'impossible' of me. The 'impossible' thing God requires of me is not to give up my family, or my home. It is not to give up my job and live without an income. It is not even to give up my own body and live as a disabled person. No, the 'impossible' thing God requires of me is to give up my child, my little Zoe, and to trust that even though she died, God is still all-powerful AND all-loving. Revelation #2.
From experience, I know that until I can do that, I'm not going to move forward in my relationship with God. We've reached an impasse, and God is not going to surrender to me! However, again, from experience, I know that God is patient. He will give me the space and time I need to work through this until I can do the seemingly impossible.
And then, as if that wasn't enough, someone shared a passage that had been given to a group she was praying with on Saturday. It was given in the context of praying for transformation in South Africa. The passage? Isaiah 43:18-19. For the benefit of those who aren't good Jews and can recite the Old Testament prophets at will...
"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland."
Well, I think you can gather how startled I was as that passage was shared. In fact, in reading through the whole chapter earlier today, I nearly wept (especially at verses 5-7). The first part of that chapter has always had deep significance for me. It's one that God has given me time and time again at crucial times in my life.
Then, the Bible message email thingy I belong to sent me the following verse today...
"ARISE [from the depression in which circumstances have kept you - rise to a new life]! Shine (be radiant), for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you!" Isaiah 60:1, from the Amplified Bible.
Do you think God is trying to say something to me? Just maybe?
Isaiah has to be one of my favourite books in the Bible. God has spoken to me through it so often. It strikes me then as no real surprise that these two passages are both from Isaiah.
I guess the question is: will I have the guts to step into the unknown and let go of my need to understand? Will I trust God despite my lack of understanding. Will I stretch out my hand to take hold of the one He is stretching out to me?
And if I do, what will the implications of that be? Does that mean I will never again be allowed to remember my baby girl, or miss her, or grieve her? Does that mean I will never again allow myself to ask the question my heart most longs to have answered?
Who knows?! Who knows. What I do know is that at the moment I'm stuck, and I'm not capable of moving forward on my own. And I also know that if I continue to stay in this place, I am going to lose my faith - as a consequence of neglect, rather than anything else - and then where will I be? I think this is what is euphemistically referred to as being between a rock and a hard place.
Edited to add... sorry, I forgot to tell you about the sermon. I'm exhausted now, so will do that another time.
The preacher was a friend of ours who runs a project called 'The Warehouse'. Their aim is community upliftment through various projects that they run. As a result, he works with the poor a lot. More about that in a moment though.
Being in church was both amazing and unbearable. Graeme and I have really been struggling with the issue of not really feeling like we belong to a church, and therefore, with trying to find somewhere to belong to. Before we left SA in 2000, we were members of the evening service. Since our return, we've been going to the family service. We don't know the people there, and it's really not a service we feel comfortable in for various other reasons that I don't want to air here. Mostly, we want a community like we had at the Ascension. We want to be part of a small to medium sized church where you can actually know everyone by sight, and where you can actually know a large number of people by name. We also want a church that has great teaching, great worship, and great children's church. So, not much then really.
In the past, when I've moved churches, I've known which church was the right one to join by the feeling of coming home I had when I sat down in the church. It's happened every single time I've moved to a church that has blessed me and challenged me. As yet, I haven't had that feeling when we've been back to our 'old' church, and I haven't felt that in any church we've visited.
Sadly, I didn't feel that last night either. (I bet you thought that was where this story was going, didn't you?!) However, as I looked around at the people in the service it struck me how many of the faces were familiar. When we left Ascension, everyone there had stood round us, as communities ought to, in grief over losing Zoe. I looked at these dear people, who had meant so much to us, but who really had never known us. I wondered how they would have reacted if we had lost Zoe here instead of in the UK. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by a desire to share our story with them, to tell them about our loss, to have them put their arms around us and enfold us in love.
It struck me though, that it was in this community, rather than any we had thus far experienced, that we were probably most likely to find the depth of relationship I am craving. I know these people loved us in their own way before, and they could do so again. Revelation #1.
As we began to worship, I promptly burst into tears, and proceeded to spend the rest of the worship with my eyes and nose overflowing, and no tissues anywhere in sight. I was battling to sing the words and mean them. All I kept thinking was, 'How can I say You are worthy of praise, or God Almighty, when you let my child die?' - or thoughts to that effect. I know that my real problem is that I'm struggling to trust God. As C.S.Lewis expressed it - the problem of pain is that the only solution to it seems to be that either God is not all-powerful, or he is not all-loving.
As I was grappling with this, I heard God's quiet voice asking me just to let go and trust Him, not to try and reason it out. And I just couldn't. I want an explanation. I want to know why. I'm not sure what effect knowing will have, whether it will drive me further away or give me a way out.
As I continued grappling, once again God spoke quietly to me. He reminded me of the last time He asked the seemingly impossible of me. For most people, if you asked them what they would most hate God to ask them to do, it would be to go to China as a missionary (or something similar). For me, it was to give up my dream of coming back to SA and staying in the UK permanently. I grappled with that question for months before I could come to a place of relinquishing my home and my family and saying, 'Not my will, but Yours, o Lord.'
But God hadn't asked me to give up my family, or South Africa. In a sense, at that time, I felt like Abraham, who had been given the son he craved, the son God had promised, and then had been asked to sacrifice him. He got to the point of having tied up his son, put him on the altar, and was raising the knife to kill him, when God stopped him. At the time, I felt like God granted me a reprieve. Once I was able to submit, He told me that he didn't require that of me. (Sjoe! That was a close one!)
As I was remembering all this though, it suddenly struck me that God was now asking the 'impossible' of me. The 'impossible' thing God requires of me is not to give up my family, or my home. It is not to give up my job and live without an income. It is not even to give up my own body and live as a disabled person. No, the 'impossible' thing God requires of me is to give up my child, my little Zoe, and to trust that even though she died, God is still all-powerful AND all-loving. Revelation #2.
From experience, I know that until I can do that, I'm not going to move forward in my relationship with God. We've reached an impasse, and God is not going to surrender to me! However, again, from experience, I know that God is patient. He will give me the space and time I need to work through this until I can do the seemingly impossible.
And then, as if that wasn't enough, someone shared a passage that had been given to a group she was praying with on Saturday. It was given in the context of praying for transformation in South Africa. The passage? Isaiah 43:18-19. For the benefit of those who aren't good Jews and can recite the Old Testament prophets at will...
"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland."
Well, I think you can gather how startled I was as that passage was shared. In fact, in reading through the whole chapter earlier today, I nearly wept (especially at verses 5-7). The first part of that chapter has always had deep significance for me. It's one that God has given me time and time again at crucial times in my life.
Then, the Bible message email thingy I belong to sent me the following verse today...
"ARISE [from the depression in which circumstances have kept you - rise to a new life]! Shine (be radiant), for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you!" Isaiah 60:1, from the Amplified Bible.
Do you think God is trying to say something to me? Just maybe?
Isaiah has to be one of my favourite books in the Bible. God has spoken to me through it so often. It strikes me then as no real surprise that these two passages are both from Isaiah.
I guess the question is: will I have the guts to step into the unknown and let go of my need to understand? Will I trust God despite my lack of understanding. Will I stretch out my hand to take hold of the one He is stretching out to me?
And if I do, what will the implications of that be? Does that mean I will never again be allowed to remember my baby girl, or miss her, or grieve her? Does that mean I will never again allow myself to ask the question my heart most longs to have answered?
Who knows?! Who knows. What I do know is that at the moment I'm stuck, and I'm not capable of moving forward on my own. And I also know that if I continue to stay in this place, I am going to lose my faith - as a consequence of neglect, rather than anything else - and then where will I be? I think this is what is euphemistically referred to as being between a rock and a hard place.
Edited to add... sorry, I forgot to tell you about the sermon. I'm exhausted now, so will do that another time.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
When you least expect it...
Today we went to church to witness the baptism of one of the children of a couple in our cell (Bible study/ fellowship) group. It was a lovely occasion, with 5 other children being baptised and one being dedicated. The kids ranged in age from babe-in-arms to a 4 yr old. All was well, and Nellie was being an angel. The service was lovely, and we were all enjoying ourselves.
Then it dawned on me that, had Zoe lived, we would have been up there, having her baptised too. I couldn't hold back the tears and had to run to the bathroom.
It never ceases to amaze me how suddenly, and without warning, the grief surfaces. It has left me feeling low all afternoon - everything just feels like too much effort. I had to drag myself out to visit show houses for a couple of hours, but I felt better for doing it. Having something external and tangible to think about, something that also poses a problem to be solved without requiring too much intellectual input (like trying to imagine us in a particular house), is always helpful. Graeme has been a star, as always, managing Janel and the house when I fall apart. What would I do without him?
Then it dawned on me that, had Zoe lived, we would have been up there, having her baptised too. I couldn't hold back the tears and had to run to the bathroom.
It never ceases to amaze me how suddenly, and without warning, the grief surfaces. It has left me feeling low all afternoon - everything just feels like too much effort. I had to drag myself out to visit show houses for a couple of hours, but I felt better for doing it. Having something external and tangible to think about, something that also poses a problem to be solved without requiring too much intellectual input (like trying to imagine us in a particular house), is always helpful. Graeme has been a star, as always, managing Janel and the house when I fall apart. What would I do without him?
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Generosity and other stuff
This week has been a mixed bunch. On the one hand, it's been great as I've managed to get some business stuff done - like getting my business cards printed. YAY!! I've also managed to update my business website with images that don't take as long to download. I'm still fixing bugs on it though, so if you go and check it out, it may not all work brilliantly.
On the other hand though, I'm still feeling very low. At my obs-gyn appointment on Tuesday past I was told that my APS is not just a contributing factor to Zoe's death (as I was told by my UK specialist), but is in fact the direct cause. In addition, it would seem that the type of APS I have means that any clotting event is a sudden thing, rather than a gradual one. This means that Zoe would have suffered more than I thought. With a gradual clotting, her asphyxiation would have been gradual, meaning that she would have slipped into a coma gradually and painlessly, a bit like people who commit suicide using carbon monoxide poisoning. With a sudden event though, her asphyxiation would have been sudden - a bit like being strangled. Needless to say, I have found that very upsetting.
As I think I've told you before, our medical aid has refused to pay for any of my APS treatments for a year. When I saw the obs-gyn I asked her what that would cost if I paid for it myself. Wait for it - my entire monthly salary before tax!! GULP! So there is definitely no way Graeme and I can afford to fall pregnant before Oct next year. I'm gutted. I know that there are plenty of very good, logical, sensible reasons why having to wait till Oct next year is a good thing, but on an emotional level it just plain sucks. It's just so damn unfair.
We're in the process of joining a new small group from church. I'm excited about that, because it means we finally get to make some friends. Our church assigns people to groups based on a questionnaire that you complete about the sort of group you're looking for. So until this week, we had no idea who was in the group. Turns out that there's a woman in our group who recently suffered a miscarriage, also of a little girl, who was also called Zoe. Plus, it turns out that there's an old family friend of Graeme's in the group. And then, there's a guy I used to be in a band with from a previous church. What a small world!
All these individuals send us emails, filled with compassion and messages of support. That's great, except that one of them is clearly from a much more 'spiritual' background than I think I can stomach at present. While I shouldn't judge, I can't help but think that they have never suffered any deep grief. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that this individual has led a charmed life. I had to rewrite my reply several times, to avoid telling this person where they could stuff their prayers. I know that everyone has their share of trouble, and I know that this individual was just trying to be supportive, and that means the world to me right now. But I really hope I don't say something I'm going to regret when we have our first meeting! I hope I can either hold me tongue, or that this person proves to be much more grounded than their email would suggest - because if not, I think we will have to find another group, and immediately.
So that's the background noise I've been dealing with emotionally all week. Then at church this morning, the sermon was on generosity. While most people look at generosity from the perspective of what people give (money vs everything else), from a Christian perspective the bigger issue is not what you give, but how and why.
Why do we give? Because we have received so much. God has been so generous with us (by dying on the cross) that we cannot help but respond by giving.
How do we give? Hysterically (translated as 'cheerfully' in many Bible translations). i.e., we don't give out of a sense of duty, or with a grudging heart, or because it's the 'right' thing to do, but joyfully and cheerfully and abundantly.
That's the theory, at any rate.
So our minister then points out to us that true holiness is marked by tremendous generosity, because God has been (and continues to be) incredibly generous towards us, and holiness is being like God. He then flicks a prayer up on the projector, for us as a community to pray together, asking God to make us more generous with each other, as a 'deep acknowledgement' of his incredible generosity to us.
And this is the point where I break down in tears, again.
Many years ago I had this discussion with my brother, about God's grace. He, being the older and wiser Christian, pointed out to me, the younger and less wise Christian, that if the only thing God had done was die on the cross for us, none of us would have any cause to complain, because that is the most generous thing anyone could have done for us. God could have done that and then washed his hands of us and had nothing further to do with us, leaving us to deal with a world devoid of love or grace, and we would still be held accountable for living a life of holiness.
Be that as it may (and he's absolutely correct), I couldn't pray that prayer. I can't ask God to make me more generous as a response to his generosity to me. All I kept thinking was - how is letting Zoe die generous? Where is the generosity in that? I can ask God to make me more generous - no problems there - but not in response to his generosity to me. I freely acknowledge that God has been generous to me in the past. I freely acknowledge that by dying on the cross God demonstrated the ultimate generosity towards me. But, blasphemous as I know it is, that is simply not enough for me anymore. If I am to believe that God has no limits to his generosity, then I need to know where that generosity is as regards Zoe, because I just don't see how taking her from her family is generous.
(And don't try telling me that maybe there something worse ahead in her future that God spared her from, because then you will need to explain why God doesn't take all children who are born to abusive parents, or born with AIDS, or born to drug addicts so that they are already addicts themselves or suffering from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or those that have severe mental or physical disabilities... because there is no answer for any of that, because there is no generosity in allowing those kids to live, and there is even less generosity in taking Zoe while allowing those kids to suffer on earth. So that rubbish doesn't cut it with me anymore.)
This afternoon I've been recalling the pictures we were given in those first few days after Zoe's death, of her in Jesus' arms, and of her with Graeme's gran. Thinking about them, I know that God was being compassionate and allowing me to know that she's ok. And I am still grateful for that - knowing that does bring me a measure of peace. But knowing that does not alleviate this gaping hole in my heart, through which I seem to bleeding a lifetime's worth of faith.
I will strive to be more generous, but I have to confess that it will simply be from a humanitarian perspective - because I know that it's good for me to give, because I know that it's the right thing to do, and because I know that God would approve. But right now there is just no way I can pray that prayer.
So, as the new term begins, I'm already emotionally exhausted. I long for this grief to be over. I long for the halycon days of an easy faith that never sucked the energy right out of you. But hopefully having structure in my week, and knowing that there are only 8 weeks to go till we break up for the year, plus joining this small group, will help me get a grip on this grief. I can only hope.
On the other hand though, I'm still feeling very low. At my obs-gyn appointment on Tuesday past I was told that my APS is not just a contributing factor to Zoe's death (as I was told by my UK specialist), but is in fact the direct cause. In addition, it would seem that the type of APS I have means that any clotting event is a sudden thing, rather than a gradual one. This means that Zoe would have suffered more than I thought. With a gradual clotting, her asphyxiation would have been gradual, meaning that she would have slipped into a coma gradually and painlessly, a bit like people who commit suicide using carbon monoxide poisoning. With a sudden event though, her asphyxiation would have been sudden - a bit like being strangled. Needless to say, I have found that very upsetting.
As I think I've told you before, our medical aid has refused to pay for any of my APS treatments for a year. When I saw the obs-gyn I asked her what that would cost if I paid for it myself. Wait for it - my entire monthly salary before tax!! GULP! So there is definitely no way Graeme and I can afford to fall pregnant before Oct next year. I'm gutted. I know that there are plenty of very good, logical, sensible reasons why having to wait till Oct next year is a good thing, but on an emotional level it just plain sucks. It's just so damn unfair.
We're in the process of joining a new small group from church. I'm excited about that, because it means we finally get to make some friends. Our church assigns people to groups based on a questionnaire that you complete about the sort of group you're looking for. So until this week, we had no idea who was in the group. Turns out that there's a woman in our group who recently suffered a miscarriage, also of a little girl, who was also called Zoe. Plus, it turns out that there's an old family friend of Graeme's in the group. And then, there's a guy I used to be in a band with from a previous church. What a small world!
All these individuals send us emails, filled with compassion and messages of support. That's great, except that one of them is clearly from a much more 'spiritual' background than I think I can stomach at present. While I shouldn't judge, I can't help but think that they have never suffered any deep grief. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that this individual has led a charmed life. I had to rewrite my reply several times, to avoid telling this person where they could stuff their prayers. I know that everyone has their share of trouble, and I know that this individual was just trying to be supportive, and that means the world to me right now. But I really hope I don't say something I'm going to regret when we have our first meeting! I hope I can either hold me tongue, or that this person proves to be much more grounded than their email would suggest - because if not, I think we will have to find another group, and immediately.
So that's the background noise I've been dealing with emotionally all week. Then at church this morning, the sermon was on generosity. While most people look at generosity from the perspective of what people give (money vs everything else), from a Christian perspective the bigger issue is not what you give, but how and why.
Why do we give? Because we have received so much. God has been so generous with us (by dying on the cross) that we cannot help but respond by giving.
How do we give? Hysterically (translated as 'cheerfully' in many Bible translations). i.e., we don't give out of a sense of duty, or with a grudging heart, or because it's the 'right' thing to do, but joyfully and cheerfully and abundantly.
That's the theory, at any rate.
So our minister then points out to us that true holiness is marked by tremendous generosity, because God has been (and continues to be) incredibly generous towards us, and holiness is being like God. He then flicks a prayer up on the projector, for us as a community to pray together, asking God to make us more generous with each other, as a 'deep acknowledgement' of his incredible generosity to us.
And this is the point where I break down in tears, again.
Many years ago I had this discussion with my brother, about God's grace. He, being the older and wiser Christian, pointed out to me, the younger and less wise Christian, that if the only thing God had done was die on the cross for us, none of us would have any cause to complain, because that is the most generous thing anyone could have done for us. God could have done that and then washed his hands of us and had nothing further to do with us, leaving us to deal with a world devoid of love or grace, and we would still be held accountable for living a life of holiness.
Be that as it may (and he's absolutely correct), I couldn't pray that prayer. I can't ask God to make me more generous as a response to his generosity to me. All I kept thinking was - how is letting Zoe die generous? Where is the generosity in that? I can ask God to make me more generous - no problems there - but not in response to his generosity to me. I freely acknowledge that God has been generous to me in the past. I freely acknowledge that by dying on the cross God demonstrated the ultimate generosity towards me. But, blasphemous as I know it is, that is simply not enough for me anymore. If I am to believe that God has no limits to his generosity, then I need to know where that generosity is as regards Zoe, because I just don't see how taking her from her family is generous.
(And don't try telling me that maybe there something worse ahead in her future that God spared her from, because then you will need to explain why God doesn't take all children who are born to abusive parents, or born with AIDS, or born to drug addicts so that they are already addicts themselves or suffering from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or those that have severe mental or physical disabilities... because there is no answer for any of that, because there is no generosity in allowing those kids to live, and there is even less generosity in taking Zoe while allowing those kids to suffer on earth. So that rubbish doesn't cut it with me anymore.)
This afternoon I've been recalling the pictures we were given in those first few days after Zoe's death, of her in Jesus' arms, and of her with Graeme's gran. Thinking about them, I know that God was being compassionate and allowing me to know that she's ok. And I am still grateful for that - knowing that does bring me a measure of peace. But knowing that does not alleviate this gaping hole in my heart, through which I seem to bleeding a lifetime's worth of faith.
I will strive to be more generous, but I have to confess that it will simply be from a humanitarian perspective - because I know that it's good for me to give, because I know that it's the right thing to do, and because I know that God would approve. But right now there is just no way I can pray that prayer.
So, as the new term begins, I'm already emotionally exhausted. I long for this grief to be over. I long for the halycon days of an easy faith that never sucked the energy right out of you. But hopefully having structure in my week, and knowing that there are only 8 weeks to go till we break up for the year, plus joining this small group, will help me get a grip on this grief. I can only hope.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Bye bye birdie!
Okay, I think I need to accept that I'm only going to blog once a fortnight now. That way I can stop stressing about it.
We're settling in nicely, I guess. I'd forgotten how hectic Cape Town is, or maybe that's just because we have a toddler who is so busy, busy, busy and always wants you to do stuff with her. Not that I'm complaining! Far from it. Today, for the first time in months, Mommy was flavour of the month again. YAY!! All day long she has been hanging onto my jeans, asking me to pick her up, asking me to play with her - she even wanted MOMMY to push the swing this morning, not Daddy. And then, best of all, she crawled into my lap this afternoon while we were visiting her godparents to fall asleep. What a privilege and blessing! I lapped up every minute of her, kissed her till I was sure she would tell me to go away, cuddled her, absorbed her smell and her smile, and basically did whatever I could to to be near her. It was heaven! My Nellie tanks are full again and it feels wonderful.
G and I have been thinking hard about which church to join, and had defaulted to our old church. However, this weekend we decided that this really is the church for us over the next year or so because we've decided to give 'Jesus Ministry' another go. This was something that our church back in London started doing a while ago - shortly after I was turned down for ordination training. We both loved it, but have found it very difficult to work through and deal with, for various reasons. We'd also seen very little change in our own lives and had seen various people hurt by it. This has had the result that we'd become disillusioned by it.
Little did we know, but our church in Cape Town has been involved in it for longer than our church back in London has been, but is implementing it in a completely different way. Talking to the key players in it, we've both found our passion for it is being rekindled. The way it is talked about here, and implemented, seems to have avoided the mistakes we'd made before. The big difference is that it is implemented in community. Community seems to be the key. So - we've decided to give it another go, and to get stuck into a community that is keen to do it, so that we can avoid the mistakes we'd made before. That means committing wholeheartedly to this church. That, in turn, means we're less likely to follow through on some of our other plans for a few years.
Since coming back, we've been trying to reconnect with friends, and I've realised why we had so much time (by comparison) for our friends back in London - we didn't have a massive clan of family to see! I love my family, and I'm thrilled to be able to see them and spend time with them, but doing so means we have less time for friends. I guess the key is just to be more organised.
And I leave you with news that we have a rat. No, not a pet. And yes, it's living in the house. It's been stealing our bread every night, and we've finally tracked it down to coming into the house via the floorboards under the kitchen cupboards. Graeme got a glimpse of it last night (after everyone else said that it couldn't possibly be a rat but had to be something bigger - like a cat, but Nicole said, no - it definitely was a rat. I should have bet on it!). So tonight my dad has put the Ratex down, and put a trap in. I hate traps and poison, but with Nellie in the house I'm not going to risk anything. Yet another reason why we're getting a cat when we move into our own place!
We're settling in nicely, I guess. I'd forgotten how hectic Cape Town is, or maybe that's just because we have a toddler who is so busy, busy, busy and always wants you to do stuff with her. Not that I'm complaining! Far from it. Today, for the first time in months, Mommy was flavour of the month again. YAY!! All day long she has been hanging onto my jeans, asking me to pick her up, asking me to play with her - she even wanted MOMMY to push the swing this morning, not Daddy. And then, best of all, she crawled into my lap this afternoon while we were visiting her godparents to fall asleep. What a privilege and blessing! I lapped up every minute of her, kissed her till I was sure she would tell me to go away, cuddled her, absorbed her smell and her smile, and basically did whatever I could to to be near her. It was heaven! My Nellie tanks are full again and it feels wonderful.
G and I have been thinking hard about which church to join, and had defaulted to our old church. However, this weekend we decided that this really is the church for us over the next year or so because we've decided to give 'Jesus Ministry' another go. This was something that our church back in London started doing a while ago - shortly after I was turned down for ordination training. We both loved it, but have found it very difficult to work through and deal with, for various reasons. We'd also seen very little change in our own lives and had seen various people hurt by it. This has had the result that we'd become disillusioned by it.
Little did we know, but our church in Cape Town has been involved in it for longer than our church back in London has been, but is implementing it in a completely different way. Talking to the key players in it, we've both found our passion for it is being rekindled. The way it is talked about here, and implemented, seems to have avoided the mistakes we'd made before. The big difference is that it is implemented in community. Community seems to be the key. So - we've decided to give it another go, and to get stuck into a community that is keen to do it, so that we can avoid the mistakes we'd made before. That means committing wholeheartedly to this church. That, in turn, means we're less likely to follow through on some of our other plans for a few years.
Since coming back, we've been trying to reconnect with friends, and I've realised why we had so much time (by comparison) for our friends back in London - we didn't have a massive clan of family to see! I love my family, and I'm thrilled to be able to see them and spend time with them, but doing so means we have less time for friends. I guess the key is just to be more organised.
And I leave you with news that we have a rat. No, not a pet. And yes, it's living in the house. It's been stealing our bread every night, and we've finally tracked it down to coming into the house via the floorboards under the kitchen cupboards. Graeme got a glimpse of it last night (after everyone else said that it couldn't possibly be a rat but had to be something bigger - like a cat, but Nicole said, no - it definitely was a rat. I should have bet on it!). So tonight my dad has put the Ratex down, and put a trap in. I hate traps and poison, but with Nellie in the house I'm not going to risk anything. Yet another reason why we're getting a cat when we move into our own place!
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