Faith – Revvin' it Up

Why I’m Still a Christian

Well. The Christian faith in America… the progressives and the Conservatives. Currently, there are more Conservatives in government and their faith is sometimes on display.

For example:

-selling a Bible with your name on it for profit.

-stating that White Nationalists (who are frequently very Conservative Christians) who believe there are good people among those committed to racism so much that they would travel and gather and run over and kill someone. And chanting “Jews will not replace us.”

-stating that you agree with, believe in, and enjoy an interpretation of scripture that turns women into baby making machines, without a voice, or rights, or anything.

There’s lots of talk about deconstructing your faith. I honesty don’t understand that process very much but I do know what an Examen is. And I did write a substantial paper called a Credo 20+ years ago. I know what I believe on paper, specifically, having studied, prayed, and discerned. I know that I am a panentheist, for example.

But these are just details. Details like those listed in our Creeds. There is so much of the Creeds that I dislike. The Apostle’s Creed was developed by men, more than 1500 years ago, when they were trying to make the main points about what it means to be a Christian.

The thing is, I believe in Jesus. Not because of historical proof but because of my own experience with him. The Creeds say absolutely nothing about what Jesus taught. They don’t say that when he was asked, he said the Greatest Commandment was to love God and love your neighbor. He didn’t say believe in the “virgin birth”, “resurrection from the dead”, blah blah.

I want to say that I no longer associate with the word “Christian” but so many would not understand my meaning. I want to explain that I am a follower of Jesus. I believe what he commanded.

And he didn’t command that we post the 10 Commandments in public schools. A Texas congressman just made very good points in argument with the woman who was pushing the bill. He pointed out how Congress doesn’t even follow them.

A Congress of mostly white men with money who are devout followers of a man that doesn’t know Alaska in a US state.

I’ll keep praying to Jesus. It’s the only way we can survive this time.

Amen?

The Monarch, the Checkbook & James Taylor

Sometimes I buy into superstitious things: avoid stepping on cracks, don’t walk under ladders, black cats in general and the killer? Break a mirror:

I’m refusing the entire idea of 7 years bad luck. Nope. When that happened, the A/C went out.

Oh no.

I called for repairs and prayed a lot. For this moment, I could get it cooler for just shy what I had of emergency funds. But I had just enough and the house is cooling off.

The guys who got the A/C kicking took the box of broken mirror pieces I picked up but could not lift.

I went outside and what did I see? A monarch butterfly moving with the breeze. That happens so rarely now but it was big and beautiful and it made me smile.

When I came back inside, James Taylor was singing “You’ve Got a Friend” on the radio. (If you didn’t know, I’m JT’s biggest fan.)

I heard it differently this time. JT wasn’t singing about his being a friend. The song reminds me of someone who once sent me a card that only read “winter, spring, summer or fall”- the next line is “all you’ve got to do is call”. He didn’t put that and he didn’t show up. I was going to a funeral & didn’t need another gut punch.

So the song reminds me of my love of JT. However, on the wings of the monarch and under a cooling house, I heard the song as if God were singing it. I heartedly recommend doing that.

My friend. Yes. That’s why I haven’t ditched the whole religion. Because he has come to me, I believe. Plain and simple.

And today God sang to me.

Living to Die

Living to Die, Dying to Live

I remember when my best friend’s big brother was killed in an accident. The whole town grieved. I remember, very clearly, telling God how loved this guy was, the world needed him back, so please take me and bring him back. I later had a dream that cleared things up for me, but this was the first time I really thought death was better than life.

I grew up in a home with a dad and his weak heart. We were told, quite strictly, to not upset him. Therefore, nothing emotional, as a general rule, was ever discussed, at any length, as I was growing up. I knew he could die any minute, although at the age of five, I was pretty unclear on what that meant.

At some point as a teenager I decided that eternity with God was a whole lot better than to trudge the road here on earth. In the depths of my own-of-control and poorly managed depression, I was often suicidal – not in a “I’m going to jump off this bridge” sort of way, but basically the belief that I’d be better off far, far away, long gone from this earth.

I had no respect for my body. In fact, I hated it a lot. I hated being female, because I saw how we were treated like fragile china plates. I also knew that being female made me vulnerable to sexual abuse. I was all too familiar with that.

At the age of 20, I went to the Air Force recruiter and asked about signing up. My dad had died about a month before my inquiry. They told me I had to lose 15 lbs, I think. At the time I did not feel I was overweight, just that I hated my body and didn’t care for it one iota. Obviously, I never lost the weight, not then anyway.

My untreated depression came to a head when my childhood trauma began to come back to me in flashbacks and body memories. Boy, did my hatred for my body increase then! I was tried on all the different ones, plus mood stabilizers, tranquillizers, benzos, you name it. And another ten pounds would be on the scale.

I have to stop and interject that before and after this time, I was determined to NOT take care of my body in the hopes that it would give out and I could die. I continued to smoke and drink and eat whatever. I didn’t care. This life sucked anyway, what did it matter?

Ok, back to the story. So I met with the shrink in seminary and got lots and lots of meds. After three years, gaining about 40 pounds, I developed a blood clot in my leg which gave me a lot of nerve damage there, and pain. I was on a walker. I was in my internship and thought God had done a cruel joke in calling me into ministry.

I graduated from seminary as a size 24. When I started I had been a 14-16. My leg was painful and numb at the same time, I didn’t know what I was doing, and off I went to be a fulltime pastor. The walls frequently felt they were falling in. I would have a brief reprieve from the depression and feel hopeful, but then crash down again.

My first suicide attempt was in 1979. I didn’t find the right combination of medication and have my depression under control until 2014 or so.

I still hated my body. In addition to the weight, signs of aging were beginning and I also started having chronic pain. Now medicated with opiates, I fought with the same 20 lbs back and forth, hating every inch of me, feeling like a train wreck if I had to see a doctor and they had to see my medical history.

Then I saw a Facebook post from an old friend and how she had lost 70 lbs in eight months. I figured it was all Ozempic. I thought I would ask her about it. And then I became an Optavist.

It hasn’t been three months yet and I’ve almost lost 30 lbs. I’ve gone from a size 20-22W to a 16-18 W, which are loose. I feel GOOD. My pain is greatly decreased. Seeing the pounds come off, I have a great attitude. I want to be with God, yes, but I don’t have to die for that to happen. My aging body continues to grow and change because I am alive!

I am so grateful for this change. I’m so grateful God isn’t done with me yet, that God’s plans for me obviously include living longer and that’s okay. I want to help people not only in the faith walk, but in changing how they feel about their bodies because it will change their lives.

My word to guide me in 2025 is surrender. An old expression from AA used to be “Surrender to Win” and I am winning, y’all. I hope you are, too.

Here We Are Again, Lord

Here I am again Lord
Lonely and afraid
Although I know you are with me.
We sit together in this quiet time
Like an old married couple.
Its not necessary to talk
We’re both too tired
And you know what’s on my mind
without me saying a word.

Yet I feel compelled
to remind you
that I’m afraid.
I’m taking a chance.
I’m crossing the lane
Crossing that line
Jumping without a parachute
Flying without being tethered
to anything
but you.

Yeah, yeah you’re here.
Do my speaking
Do my flying
Make my pitch
and come back home
and tell me how it went.

Because I’m tired.
Its been a long life
No one knows
we live like this
in this sort of
relationship.

They wouldn’t believe me
if I told them.

My Mother the Whale

My re-creation of meditation

My Mother the Whale

At some desperate time in my life, another one when I felt alone and needing something to fill the void; I was befriended or I’d guess, absorbed by another similar blob & I learned from it. It took decades but I learned this very important lesson; how to commune with one of the most giant mothers of our world. It has grown and changed and transformed over the years But it begins like this:

I am alone on a beach on a gray fall day

I lie back on the sand; it’s not hot; it’s a little cool. I am alone. The tide is rolling in and as I hear this sound come and go, I also let it fill and empty my lungs. Sometimes there are are images I allow to flee from me but usually I focus on my breath. Tide in, breath in. Tide out, breath out. It takes some time to slow it down that much lest I hyperventilate or imagine a tsunami.

When my breathing and the sounds of the tide are in sync, I let the tide roll further and further in, so that it is first at my feet, but getting closer and closer to my head at a steady pace. By the time I fear the salt water in my face, I am relaxed enough to sink further into the sand, and also into the sea just beneath the surface of the sand.

It is there, deep down in the bottom of the ocean that I am initially blinded by the brightness of the white sand on the bottom. As I move around, I see the sand moves too and this feels relaxing and playful. It’s around this time that I remember I’m under water.

It is in just that moment, my mother, the humpback whale, lifts me up to the surface to take a breath of air; which will last me another 15 minutes of total self absorption and play.

I relax deeper and my trust increases. I realize that this magnificent aircraft carrier protecting me overhead from exposure – and danger – is my mother, the humpback. She refers to me only as her “dear one” and we play, she lifts me up for a breath and when I come to rely to on her to do so, she sees that I find my own way.

We have time together, this enormous creature, just the two of us, before we have to journey back north because her life’s purpose has basically been fulfilled.

It’s not an atonement, it’s not a ritual in any of those ways, but she has been genetically programmed to stay behind the herd, eat more, birth me and then escort me back to the northern pacific.

The “cute” orca out there? the killer whales? Kill. They try to get between my mother and me so they can hold me down long enough to suffocate me. The outloud cries and torment of her wanting to stop and “give up” struggle deeply with her recognition that she has to move on or risk dying herself; her life’s purpose stolen in a flash. I can see similar expressions with humans when a loved one dies.

But those thoughts usually flow right on through the water of which I am made; the water of which most of us are created from and filled with; ashes and ashes and dust to dust; why not sand to sand?

Faith has been compared to floating. If you fight, you’ll drown. If you relax, your journey can be magnificent.

My mother the humpback pushes her giant nose under me to lift me to breathe, she journeys right beside me, always watchful for those “cute” orcas who only want my eyes. She protects me. She leads me down an instinctual path that she knows but cannot map out. I know to trust her, without having had therapy with her. She births me. And each day of our journey, she saves me by forcing me to breathe (especially when I am busy at play and want to whine, ”but mom“) and she remains watchful for the enemy.

The ancient Hebrews, they say, were slow in asking directions and thus wandered the desert 40 years. The didn’t wander into the wrong place. They just took a long time getting there because it took THEM a long time to be prepared for where they were going.

My mother the humpback is like that, too. I have no idea if she’s leading me to slaughter, day care or eternal freedom. I only know that she will not leave me except in the case of her death and that if she dies before our journey is complete, most likely, I also will die.

My mother is a humpback whale. I don’t know her name or the name she has given me. But I would recognize her singing anywhere.