GIVEN

 (Part 5 of a 5-part series. Part 1 here, Part2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here.)

Given.

Every year since we moved here, my spouse’s aunt has invited us to join her and friends at her country club for Thanksgiving dinner. (I know, I know.) The last time we went (2019) we all talked about our families and lives at the aunt’s house afterward. Then someone brought up politics. With the exception of one person, everyone listened when others shared their opinions and no one was shamed. We knew they were Republicans from previous years, but getting to know them as people before we really got into it – not arguing, just getting deep into the discussion – helped us see them as people, not caricatures. It was a beautiful and holy communion.

Given.

We are saved (however we define that word) not to just go through life for ourselves and follow certain rules. No, we are saved to continue Jesus’s work of loving people. That is what we were all doing during that Thanksgiving evening, loving people. Believe me, it was hard not to come at them with facts and anger, but, you see, we had just learned about their families and that connection was more important. Recognizing the dignity of others is the basis for loving them. That means mocking, making fun of, wishing others ill for their opinions, are all off the table. God’s table is about love.

Given to be Consumed

We are given to those around us to love them in whatever way they need love. There are so many ways to love others – helping, advocating, mourning when they mourn, healing, listening, being available, voting, supporting, smiling, saying hello, sharing meals. Jesus took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to the disciples to eat. To be consumed. Our lives in Christ are to be given and used for a higher purpose, spent in service to those around us.

Consumed.

The funny thing is this doesn’t just happen once. At least in my experience, as we grow in our spiritual lives, more is revealed to us and we get (re)broken, blessed, and given in many ways. I say broken, but here it is more of a reorientation of our thinking and way of being. Our ideas get broken and reformed as do our lives. We do not become all wise or all knowing when we follow Christ. In fact, all our defects will come up in our relations with others. Ideally, we work through them together, forgiveness is offered and accepted, and all are transformed in the process. And the cycle continues.

Given.

We have not seen any of the Thanksgiving attendees since that dinner. We don’t know if they supported the insurrection or believe the lies that the election was rigged. My spouse’s aunt doesn’t seem to, but for the rest, we don’t know. I have thought a lot about whether we will all be together again. If so, what will that look like? Will we be able to love them? Will we be able to be able to let ourselves be given again?

B

 

TAKEN

  (Part 4 of a 5-part series. Part 1 here, Part2 here. Part 3 here.)

 Taken. Chosen. Set Apart.

In my Intro to Theology class at seminary, we had to do a Holy Spirit project and present it to the class. I used the metaphor of the seasons to ground my project. Winter was the wind blowing and pushing us, sometimes to places we don’t really want to go. Spring was rain and refreshment and growth. Summer was warmth and light. Fall was cool and connection; a slowing of our pace. Today, I want to talk about the Holy Spirit as winter, blowing and driving us where God wants us to be.

Taken.

Sometimes to places we don’t want to go. Like church on a Sunday morning. Like seminary. Not only was I not looking for Jesus when I found him, I was not interested. I was only looking for a better life. That, however, did not stop Jesus from looking for and choosing me. I used to joke that seminary and ministry was for people who really needed it. Because what I learned in seminary wasn’t so much theology, but how to live in a community and how to love those I might deem unlovable. I got a lot of practice on that last one in seminary. I learned more about being loved too. And about myself. I’m not sure I would have learned these things otherwise. Although everyone there didn’t necessarily need it, I really needed seminary. I was chosen.

Chosen.

The thing is – God chooses everybody; in their own way. I have a friend who follows the Lakota way. She tells me that the spirits are always looking for someone to talk with, to teach, to love. If we’re too busy going about our lives, we won’t hear them. I like that. God is always broadcasting love. If we don’t listen, we won’t hear. In that sense, I chose God in choosing to listen. That sets those of us who listen apart from those who don't, but we're also set apart by what we hear God saying. My spouse and I routinely hear different messages, because we are different people. God is not calling him to the same service to which he is calling me.

Set Apart.

We’re taken or chosen or set apart – however you want to look at it – not because were awesome or special but because we heard, we listened, and we responded. What was once broadcasting has become a dialogue. Even if we grumble and complain, God still calls us to continue deeper into loving ourselves, loving him, loving others. Always.

And that leads us back to blessing. Because to follow Jesus, to go where the persistent wind of the Holy Spirit is blowing is to practice love, and to practice love is to be blessed by love. Even if I’m being blown where I don’t want to go, or asked to love someone I don’t want to love.

Taken.

May you be blessed to be taken ... chosen ... set apart.

B

 

BLESSED

 (Part 3 of a 5-part series. Part 1 here, Part2 here.)

BLESSED

One morning, I was praying the sorrowful mysteries on the Rosary. The sorrowful mysteries are the final humiliations of Jesus’s life: the trial, the beatings, the carrying of the cross, and the cross. So, I was thinking about severe abuse as I was walking in my neighborhood. That’s when it happened. I had a sudden and abrupt, almost violent, reorientation of my brain. I realized, for the first time, without a shadow of a doubt that Jesus UNDERSTOOD. All my life I had felt misunderstood by everyone around me; what I desired most in life was someone who understood. And Jesus showed me that he understood my pain, my confusion, my trauma. I knew it in a way I can’t explain. Jesus understood and loved me, not in the abstract, but in a real way. A way that made a difference in my life.

Blessed.

Being blessed does not mean we have wealth, big houses, fancy cars, private jets, or even a happy life. The blessing in life is to be loved by God, by ourselves, and by others. That experience was a corner-turning, defining moment in my own salvation story. Yet, in my faith tradition, we are not saved to then sit back and be comfortable. No. We are saved to serve, to be a blessing to others.

Blessed.

Sometimes, being a blessing to others comes at a cost. This past Sunday, the Rev. Dr. Barber preached a sermon that redefines what it means to be blessed. Using Dr. Martin Luther King’s writing, he points out that the push-back we get when we follow Jesus by advocating for justice is part of the blessing. King’s point is that when we follow Jesus, those in power don’t like it. Power preserves the status quo. There will be push-back and it will not be pleasant. Just look at all the violent push-back from the Black Lives Matter protests last summer. As Jesus says in Matthew 5:10, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Blessed.

Fortunately, there will also be support. As we grow further and go deeper in love, we will be able to do more than we thought. Barber himself talks about Jesus continually asking him to march, when his legs hurt badly afterward. I too have to ask why God wants me to march and work on behalf of the least of these when the sun wilts me. When I did outreach to homeless people in Chicago, my health suffered. God and my God-given desire to do the work in spite of the cost got me through. My body may have been scathed, but my spirit was joyous.

Blessed.

May you be blessed.

B

 

BROKEN

 (Part 2 of a 5-part series. Part 1 here.)

Broken.

But first, two caveats. There is no blame in what follows. Everyone involved has made amends and reconciled.

Second, if you love someone whose drinking is affecting your life, Al-Anon might be able to help.

Broken. Yes, I was broken through alcoholism in my family. Broken through the terror, the violence, and the abuse. Alcoholism is really good at breaking things. It runs through both sides of my family, so it’s no surprise that some of us were broken. I’m still broken in some ways. There are some traits I acquired in my childhood home that I’ll be dealing with until I die.

What do I mean when I say ‘broken?’ I remember sitting in church (nothing against that church) and hearing the priest talk about heaven. “Not for me,” I thought. I was six years old. I thought I was destined to hell. With my kid logic, I assumed I must have done something terrible for my parents to not love me. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what that was. I didn’t know then that they were doing the best they could.

Even so, I was broken in the same way our current government is broken; functioning, but only just barely. I was the embodiment of all the terrible things my parents told me about myself, or that my kid logic told me. I had no idea who I was. I certainly didn’t like myself. When I first got lupus, which is an autoimmune disorder wherein my body make antibodies to my DNA, I used to joke that I REALLY didn’t like myself. That’s not why I have lupus.

Anyway, that’s how broken I was. I had no sense of self whatsoever, no sense of safety or security, no sense of joy. I made impulsive decisions that put me in danger more than once. I needed repairing. My brain needed washing to get all my crappy thoughts out and to put some loving thoughts in.

My dad tells the story of how he realized he was an alcoholic. He was in a bar and was thinking about his buddies at the bar. As he went down the bar getting closer with each name, he thought how each of them was an alcoholic. Then he came to himself. He never took another drink after that night. I had a similar story. I had just been thinking that my boyfriend should really get to an AA meeting. Then I realized, no, I needed to get to an Al-Anon meeting.

Because I was broken.

But I finally realized I didn’t have to stay broken. After all the s#!t I put myself through, I still had hope for a better life.

While there’s life, there’s hope.

B