Tuesday, July 17, 2012
In with the Old, Out with the New
Nostalgia is alive and well here on the corner. My son, Austin, was recently here in Cross Plains for the summer, helping disassemble old barns and build new old furniture. He came up with the saying "In With The Old, Out With The New", and it sorta stuck. And somewhere along the way, I believe he got hooked on this love affair with the old, this sickness that has no cure (of course, no cure is desired anyway). I mean, after all, that is what we are about here at Corner House and it is our passion. Having just gotten back from the overwhelmingly huge Gift Market in Atlanta, I see more and more evidence that this sentiment is shared among many of us in today's society. Showroom after showroom this weekend was filled to overflowing with pieces made to resemble the authentic old relaimed pieces we love. Maybe it is because in grasping onto some of the old, we all find a "safe place", an assurance that tough times can be survived, and today and the future doesn't seem quite so worrisome. Or maybe it is because building character takes time, in furniture, in barn wood, and in people, and there is a realness, a wisdom, a respectable authenticity, that the old brings that just can't be replicated by the new pieces created overseas.
I was reading an old school-friend's blog just today and began reminiscing about the time our small hometown finally got a McDonald's. I was in high school, and I cannot begin to tell you how exciting it was to have it and a Pizza Hut. Up until that point it was either the Burger "Queen" or Scottie's 14 cent little square hamburgers (to which I attribute my love for Krystal burgers to this day). Oh!, and I remember when we got our movie theater, where we didn't necessarily have to drive across the state line to Kentucky just to see a movie, although it still felt like more of a date if you went to Murray. I, on occasion, pull my Gunne Sax by Jessica McClintock prom dress out of the cedar chest and look at it, or flip through old pictures. On our way to Atlanta this weekend, we had a 70s music fest of sorts and listened to all the oldies on Pandora. Funny how a song, a smell, or a picture can evoke such vivid memories.
And I guess that is the allure of something old. It causes us to reminisce, think of the good old days (although whether they were actually any better than today is questionable), and wistfully remember a long-forgotten moment in our personal journey.
A lady brought a box of stuff into the store the other day and although I had no need for a multi-colored suede patch pantsuit with maching vest, it was all I could do to keep myself from buying it, just for nostalgia's sake, because it evoked the very essence of my teenage years and remembering favorite clothes. I even had the suede patch saddle oxford shoes as an adolescent young girl, and I can still remember them and all their glorious colors and random patterns. (However, I did buy the Ms. Beasley:)
But, nostalgia can get you in a lot of trouble too if you think that nothing will ever be as good as a previous time in history or a previous time in your life. Perry said to me the other day, "remember the good old days", to which I replied "these ARE the good old days".
So along with all that reminiscing and remembering, don't forget to keep moving forward. In the store, we're moving forward, and just taking pieces of history with us. New to the store is an "old" style cafe room where you can come in and enjoy home baked goods and coffee and fruit tea any time of day. I wanted a new place for our customers to sit and talk and become friends. So I filled this new room up with old things and started trying out new recipes. (So far, my favorite is the peach-praline pound cake, or maybe the chocolate zucchini bread...well, maybe the fresh blueberry muffins or actually, the toffee crunch coffee cake I made today was pretty awesome too....
I also wanted to take a new approach to our jewelry area, so we painted the walls with chalkboard paint, hung old antique white frames on the wall, and added jewelry - something old and something new.
The best thing about the old is that it is still at home in the present. If it is rusty, chipping, peeling, wrinkled, or a bit crooked, you can be sure it has an interesting tale to tell, and more character than can ever be contrived in today's "new offerings".
But, as always, it is the mix of old and new that keeps life interesting. Old memories and new ones too. Old prom dresses and pictures, but for heaven's sake, losing the mullet or the Farrah Fawcett "wings".
When going through a difficult time, my mother once told me, "Teresa, it is just another season". There have been many seasons before this one, and there will be many more after it." And I have found that to be true.
So, while I type this blog on my iPad, I have my feet propped up on a reclaimed barnwood coffee table, the century old mantle clock is ticking above the fireplace, and I can hear the wide-screen TV in the other room, and the channels changing via remote control.
Don't get stuck in the past, but certainly bring a piece of it with you into the present. After all, the past is what made you who you are today, and these are the good old days!
Teresa
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Livin' it up before layin' it down
This has been a very eventful past week or two here on the corner. For the past two Saturdays, you may have missed us in the store because we've been graduating two of our kids from college, our son from MTSU - budding microbiologist and jazz saxophonist extraordinaire. A third gets his Master's in December and he is home for the summer to help disassemble barns and learn to build with reclaimed wood before returning to academia and the world of teaching literature and writing. We've also welcomed a new grandbaby to the family in the past few weeks. I was inducted into Worldwide Who's Who, and Corner House has the honor of being in Country Living Magazine online this month. I've also decided to delve into the world of painting barn quilts and hopefully get Cross Plains on the map for agritourism in the state of TN.
However, today I want to focus on one thing, living it up before you lay it down. Saturday, after Olivia graduated at Western with her degree in interior design, she hosted a wonderful party in Cross Plains at her grandparents' house. True to her personal style it was a great party and we saw people from the other side of the family we haven't seen since her high school graduation four years ago. One of those was her grandmother, Dottie Forewright, a short blonde-headed fireball of a woman, who has never hesitated to speak her mind. Upon greeting each other Dottie said "I hear you have started a new adventure and are working hard". Yes, I agreed, we had opened the store, and I am finally doing what I absolutely love, working more hours, and making less money than ever, but it really doesn't seem to matter. And to this Dottie said "do what you love as much as you can because there will come a day your body won't let you and you won't be able to do it any longer". Even at that moment, it struck a chord in me, maybe because this year is a milestone birthday for me and that realization has been staring me in the face and reminding me of its truth with both vague and blatant aches here and there more often than I care to admit.
The day went well, we all sat around talked, ate and enjoyed the day. Even the coolness and rain wasn't a problem as the day went on, as we mingled in the covered areas outdoors and ignored the weather. One by one, people said their good-byes, scurrying to their cars in the then pouring rain. We, too, decided it was time to leave, and headed home just one mile down the road. As we pulled into our driveway, the cell phone rang and it was my mother-in-law telling us they had just received word that Dottie and her son were in a car accident. We headed back over. The car had hydroplaned minutes after leaving the party, and Dottie's life as we know it here, ended in that crash.
It was shocking and surreal, those moments you just sit passing in and out of reality with all the news and the unknowns. And her words to me were all I could hear. It resonated when she first said them, but absolutely nothing like those same words were now deafeningly loud in my mind and heart. "Do what you love as much as you can because there will come a day..." Who would have ever imagined those words to be so prophetic that Dottie spoke, and that only a few hours later, the truth of that statement would be so strongly echoing in me?
It took me a while - almost half a century - but I found a life I live with passion here on this little Corner of this little town. Maybe because it took me so long, I always said it to my kids over and over, and over, while they were young. Don't do what's safe, don't do what pays the most, don't follow the rest of the people... find what YOU love and do it. Savor your life, savor the moments, savor your authentic self. In a book I have recently begun called Simple Abundance, I'm learning more than ever how to do that, to live the authentic life I was created to live. And I am more than slightly fulfilled at seeing each of my children do the same.
There is a verse from the Bible I love that says "Lead a life worthy of your calling". Think about the two profound things that verse says. First, LEAD your life. I like to picture leading a Labrador Retriever, well trained, on a leash. And I also remember the not-so-well trained Lab I actually took out on a leash (once and only once!). I wasn't the one doing the leading!! Nothing good came of it, but he did pull my shoulder out and I ended up landing hard on my fanny and being pulled down the hill in embarrassment. Isn't that the picture of too many of our lives? We let our life LEAD us, instead of US leading our LIFE. Or maybe we never engage in life, because we are waiting for somebody to lead us. But the imperative "lead" implies action and personal choice. The second thing is YOUR CALLING. Not "if you have a calling". Rather, it assumes the obvious - you do have one and it is up to you to recognize it, embrace it, and live it out. What is keeping you from finding the authentic calling you have and doing it. My calling is to write sometimes, teach others, study, paint most days, sew, grow herbs, love my babies, tend my little store, adore colors and textures, and the list goes on. You know, I tried sooo very hard to have the Pottery Barn look. In fact, when we moved, I had determined we would have Perry's beautiful real-deal barnwood furniture and white - linen, burlap, you get the picture. Well, try as I might in my decor adventures, I always end up with a room full of color, color, color everywhere. Yes, definitely barn wood, but also, velvet covered fainting couches, a few whimsical paintings, pieces from my mother and grandmother, a chandelier, and other odds and ends ... So NOT "Pottery Barn" trendy. And I absolutely love my special room at home. But realize this - fashion is seasonal, style is forever. My style is not your style. And yours is not mine and that is perfectly wonderful and actually preferable. Your home is your haven and I enjoy helping people make it so in some small way. And so, I lead this life until there comes a day... And as I do, I hear the voices of countless others who come in the store, dreaming of doing the same thing - leading an authentic life - trying something their heart has always wanted to do - taking a chance living the dream, LEADING. Unfortunately most of them never will. So I guess my question to you is, "who is holding the leash"? You or circumstance, you or another person, you or others' expectations, you or defeat, martyrdom, and victimization, you or fear?
Here's to living it up...
Teresa
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Something 'bout a truck - an Ode
Yep, I was there, smack dab in the middle of sprawling suburbia, minivans, luxury cars and soccer moms in workout suits. Without trying to sound negative or judgmental, the word "Stepford" comes to mind (and I cringe more than a little at the connotation). Then, one muggy August day, something happened. I got a wildhair. The our-kids-are-grown, let's-try-it, break-out-of-the-mold, it's-something-I've-always-wanted-to-do, unplug-me-from-the-matrix kind of wildhair! Now, I am prone to grandiose dreams and ideas, on more than an occasional basis, and I am equally prone to be the oddball hippie flower-child, Bohemian-eclectic type in the group of conformers, but my consistent and mild-mannered, although quite countrified, husband is not. He is the most content with the same thing for breakfast every day kind of guy. How I talked him into returning to his farmland hometown of Cross Plains and living in an old house in the tiny little historic district, while opening a store in the other half is beyond me. I think divine intervention had to have been involved.
As well, I had removed myself from country music for quite some time, tired of the equally "Stepford-ish" pretty girls and boys factory cranking out songs about things of which they had not the slightest clue - like living in the country and driving an old truck, smelling the freshly plowed dirt and eating turnip greens and fried cornbread, while drinking syrupy sweet tea. I instead would listen to jazz and drink a nice glass of wine while preparing a healthy Italian dinner in our new cookie cutter house.
But then, the last kid grew up and went to college, the house was empty, and my creative energy and restless spirit was rearing its head once again, and this time, there was no reason to say no. So... we went for it without hesitation ... well, at least one of us did. And here we are 1 1/2 years later, at Historic Corner House, on the corner somewhere between "culture and agriculture" as our local celebrity, Bill Cody, likes to say on his morning show on WSM 650. Heck, I even named a candle after him (Bill Cody's Creme Brulee').
A few good things went away, but they were replaced by another few equally good things. Namely, my "Daisybug", a VW Beetle Convertible that I drove everywhere with the top down, and usually some kind of antique or treasure in the back seat. She just wasn't cut out for the country life and hauling furniture, so we traded her...for a beautiful cherry red hoss of a boy, a Ford F150 truck. I thought I would be sad, but I was surprisingly excited. Big Red was a sign of good new things happening, a new chapter in life. Plus, I admit it, if you're gonna live in the country, you gotta have a truck. It's a necessary part of life out here.
Fast forward 1 1/2 years and country music or bluegrass will be playing on the radio in the store, and in my truck. Not because they know what they're singin' about, but because I, in fact, do now know what they are singing about! And all the stuff they sing about trucks is true. I have learned that a broken down old work truck crosses all social barriers in Cross Plains. It's just a plain ole' necessity, from the wealthiest to the regular Joe. It is a deep-rooted part of culture, necessity and tradition.
And you know what? Like the country song says, There IS something 'bout a truck! It is the quintessential icon of the country. It's the symbol of hard work, and authentic, real life people. The life where what you drive is not a reflection of who you want to be seen as, or a status symbol. It's a functional part of existence out here. And today, while I'm on the side porch writing this blog, if I were a counting girl, I'd be counting mostly trucks up and down the road. And a good deal of those trucks would have a window down with a dog's happy head poking out, the drooling co-pilot and elated chief wind sucker.
You don't see a whole lot of suits out here. Even the pharmacist at the local drug store and soda fountain is a farmer too, and yep, he drives a truck and you probably wouldn't find him in any attire different than a pair of jeans.
So when people ask me what I love about Cross Plains, one thing I'd have to say is the trucks and what they represent, all shapes and sizes, new or rusty, the ones that pull the cow and horse trailers and trailers piled high with bales of hay, the ones loud and dualed out by the local high school boys, the ones going by to take their own garbage to the dump before it closes at noon, the ones parked down at the meat-and-three for lunch in between plowing the fields or setting tobacco, the one across the street with the bed full of freshly picked strawberries for sale, and of course, the big red Ford in the back yard at Historic Corner House, pulling a load of freshly disassembled old tobacco barns up the drive, piloted by a big handsome country guy, and a happy old Cocker Spaniel co-pilot, head sticking out the window and sucking in the fresh air. It's real, it's authentic, it's hard-working men and women, it's agriculture mixed with culture, it's the Heartland, it's Cross Plains. And while you may not see a lot of StepFord wives, you will definitely see a lot of plain ole Ford wives.
And that's life on the corner today, Wednesday, April 18, 2012.
Teresa
As well, I had removed myself from country music for quite some time, tired of the equally "Stepford-ish" pretty girls and boys factory cranking out songs about things of which they had not the slightest clue - like living in the country and driving an old truck, smelling the freshly plowed dirt and eating turnip greens and fried cornbread, while drinking syrupy sweet tea. I instead would listen to jazz and drink a nice glass of wine while preparing a healthy Italian dinner in our new cookie cutter house.
But then, the last kid grew up and went to college, the house was empty, and my creative energy and restless spirit was rearing its head once again, and this time, there was no reason to say no. So... we went for it without hesitation ... well, at least one of us did. And here we are 1 1/2 years later, at Historic Corner House, on the corner somewhere between "culture and agriculture" as our local celebrity, Bill Cody, likes to say on his morning show on WSM 650. Heck, I even named a candle after him (Bill Cody's Creme Brulee').
A few good things went away, but they were replaced by another few equally good things. Namely, my "Daisybug", a VW Beetle Convertible that I drove everywhere with the top down, and usually some kind of antique or treasure in the back seat. She just wasn't cut out for the country life and hauling furniture, so we traded her...for a beautiful cherry red hoss of a boy, a Ford F150 truck. I thought I would be sad, but I was surprisingly excited. Big Red was a sign of good new things happening, a new chapter in life. Plus, I admit it, if you're gonna live in the country, you gotta have a truck. It's a necessary part of life out here.
Fast forward 1 1/2 years and country music or bluegrass will be playing on the radio in the store, and in my truck. Not because they know what they're singin' about, but because I, in fact, do now know what they are singing about! And all the stuff they sing about trucks is true. I have learned that a broken down old work truck crosses all social barriers in Cross Plains. It's just a plain ole' necessity, from the wealthiest to the regular Joe. It is a deep-rooted part of culture, necessity and tradition.
And you know what? Like the country song says, There IS something 'bout a truck! It is the quintessential icon of the country. It's the symbol of hard work, and authentic, real life people. The life where what you drive is not a reflection of who you want to be seen as, or a status symbol. It's a functional part of existence out here. And today, while I'm on the side porch writing this blog, if I were a counting girl, I'd be counting mostly trucks up and down the road. And a good deal of those trucks would have a window down with a dog's happy head poking out, the drooling co-pilot and elated chief wind sucker.
You don't see a whole lot of suits out here. Even the pharmacist at the local drug store and soda fountain is a farmer too, and yep, he drives a truck and you probably wouldn't find him in any attire different than a pair of jeans.
So when people ask me what I love about Cross Plains, one thing I'd have to say is the trucks and what they represent, all shapes and sizes, new or rusty, the ones that pull the cow and horse trailers and trailers piled high with bales of hay, the ones loud and dualed out by the local high school boys, the ones going by to take their own garbage to the dump before it closes at noon, the ones parked down at the meat-and-three for lunch in between plowing the fields or setting tobacco, the one across the street with the bed full of freshly picked strawberries for sale, and of course, the big red Ford in the back yard at Historic Corner House, pulling a load of freshly disassembled old tobacco barns up the drive, piloted by a big handsome country guy, and a happy old Cocker Spaniel co-pilot, head sticking out the window and sucking in the fresh air. It's real, it's authentic, it's hard-working men and women, it's agriculture mixed with culture, it's the Heartland, it's Cross Plains. And while you may not see a lot of StepFord wives, you will definitely see a lot of plain ole Ford wives.
And that's life on the corner today, Wednesday, April 18, 2012.
Teresa
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Life on .the Corner...an update
Hi friends. Wow, last time I blogged was a month after opening Historic Corner House. As they say, blink, and time flies right by you. And how true it is - almost every aspect of my life has changed in that short 1 1/2 year period. But fortunately, every aspect change has been a good one for the most part.
I've backed off on the medical work, I've felt the satisfaction of becoming completely immersed in a life of creativity and I feel like I am living the life I've wanted to live, well, for my whole life! And my husband, Perry, is having the time of his life now "disassembling" barns and rebuilding these old pieces of history into new pieces with a story for each home.
I had a guy from the NFIB visit the other and yes, I joined the NFIB, which is a small business organization. He was asking about economic times, gripes and complaints, and basically anything he could take back to lobby with. Maybe my answers surprised him.
Yes, gas is high and going up every day - but I hope that if people choose to spend their vacations at home, that Corner House can help them make their outdoor space a retreat in its own right with some of our outdoor iron products and our barnwood Adirondack chairs, and that Cross Plains, TN, can become a day destination for those who will venture just a few miles outside Nashville.
Yes, economy is slow and jobs are hard to find - but I find that necessity is the mother of invention, and that some of those exact situations are what catapulted us into starting this business. John Maxwell once said "you can't control the hand you were dealt, but you can still play the game to win". I see the spirit of overcoming and ingenuity in people all over, and I see more optimism than pessimism.
Yes, the unemployment rate is up - but I want to be a part of the movement that promises at least 90% of its inventory is from American made companies, or repurposed, vintage or antique. I think buying local and American is one way to begin to bring jobs back to the U.S. And I'm committed to being a business that has that as part of its mission statement. Don't complain too much about jobs until you've done what you can to keep Americans at work!
I see some really cool things now through the lens of a small town retailer. People want local, people want handmade, people want American made, people want earthy, authentic, real, and unique. People regularly now look at the labels to see where things are made, people are developing a new-found pride in their communities, people are choosing the mom and pop establishments over the Wal-Mart and Starbucks establishments. It's a grass roots movement at its finest that just seems to be sprouting up and taking root like kudzu in the country!
What else do I see? Oh, from my spot in the swing on the corner of East Robertson and Hwy 25, I see lots of farm implements going down the road, Harley Davidson bikes roaring down the road every weekend, some mooing cow trailers, horse trailers, teenage boys with loud trucks, the school buses and kids in the afternoon, locals, travelers, and day trippers, and a little bustling "city" in the middle of some of the most beautiful farm land this side of heaven. I see real, I see authentic, I see heartland, I see perseverence, I see America...
I've backed off on the medical work, I've felt the satisfaction of becoming completely immersed in a life of creativity and I feel like I am living the life I've wanted to live, well, for my whole life! And my husband, Perry, is having the time of his life now "disassembling" barns and rebuilding these old pieces of history into new pieces with a story for each home.
I had a guy from the NFIB visit the other and yes, I joined the NFIB, which is a small business organization. He was asking about economic times, gripes and complaints, and basically anything he could take back to lobby with. Maybe my answers surprised him.
Yes, gas is high and going up every day - but I hope that if people choose to spend their vacations at home, that Corner House can help them make their outdoor space a retreat in its own right with some of our outdoor iron products and our barnwood Adirondack chairs, and that Cross Plains, TN, can become a day destination for those who will venture just a few miles outside Nashville.
Yes, economy is slow and jobs are hard to find - but I find that necessity is the mother of invention, and that some of those exact situations are what catapulted us into starting this business. John Maxwell once said "you can't control the hand you were dealt, but you can still play the game to win". I see the spirit of overcoming and ingenuity in people all over, and I see more optimism than pessimism.
Yes, the unemployment rate is up - but I want to be a part of the movement that promises at least 90% of its inventory is from American made companies, or repurposed, vintage or antique. I think buying local and American is one way to begin to bring jobs back to the U.S. And I'm committed to being a business that has that as part of its mission statement. Don't complain too much about jobs until you've done what you can to keep Americans at work!
I see some really cool things now through the lens of a small town retailer. People want local, people want handmade, people want American made, people want earthy, authentic, real, and unique. People regularly now look at the labels to see where things are made, people are developing a new-found pride in their communities, people are choosing the mom and pop establishments over the Wal-Mart and Starbucks establishments. It's a grass roots movement at its finest that just seems to be sprouting up and taking root like kudzu in the country!
What else do I see? Oh, from my spot in the swing on the corner of East Robertson and Hwy 25, I see lots of farm implements going down the road, Harley Davidson bikes roaring down the road every weekend, some mooing cow trailers, horse trailers, teenage boys with loud trucks, the school buses and kids in the afternoon, locals, travelers, and day trippers, and a little bustling "city" in the middle of some of the most beautiful farm land this side of heaven. I see real, I see authentic, I see heartland, I see perseverence, I see America...
Friday, December 10, 2010
Time to re-evaluate, and it's not even New Year's!
Something has been happening that I just don't like. It's crept in over the past two months or so. We have become "business minded". And I'm not using that term positively but rather quite derogatorily. We are learning what it is as Christ-followers to open a business. And so far, I think we've already fallen into many of the traps that business owners become prey to and we're not doing too good a job of it. Opening the business has totally consumed us. Our life has become about how much coffee, candles, soap to order and which kind would sell the best, and how to get people in here, and making sure I put something on Facebook every day. Update the web site. About pricing, what to put on sale, how to market. Pricing it $20 or $19.99! Let's face it - in a little over one month of being open for business, we have become THOSE people. We have become sell-outs to trying whatever it takes to get somebody in the store to spend a buck. That is okay I guess for some people. But it's just not okay for me and I don't like where this could all head.
First of all, it was God who led us here to Cross Plains, to this little corner of the world, to live in and work in this house in this community, at this Crossroads of many Robertson County lives. And for me to think it was purely to make a buck would be the most horrible, shallow, selfish thing I can imagine. So I want it to stop before it even gets a chance to take root.
It is an odd thing - being a "Christian" business owner. In some ways, it feels like an oxymoron. I think God has allowed me to become consumed, so that he could see how empty it is. It's been a quiet week in terms of people coming in, but not in terms of the turmoil in my spirit. And I just want to get back to where I was with the Lord. That's the most important thing. With Perry and I both working our other jobs, as well as opening the store, that has sort of encouraged me to put God on the back burner to just simmer to himself while I take care of the bigger pots and put out fires.
So, how am I gonna do this so that it looks different? What is it God wants of me for his kingdom through this store? Because really that's all that matters. Seeking first His kingdom and his righteousness.
Perry and I spent a while praying about this just a bit ago. Praying over all the evil that has tried to invade our family - whether it's commercialism, selling out, illness, mechanical problems, an inordinate amount of flat tires, car wrecks, you name it. And I started to see, it is tiny little increments that the devil works his way into your life, and before you know it you are at complete unrest and he has tried to secure a foothold in every area of your life. So, not only did we pray to our Father, we also did some "talking" to the other side about vacating the property.
We want this business to not be a typical business. We want our focus to remain pure and true. We want to not be sell-outs to commercialism. We want to see every person that walks through this door in terms of eternity, not in terms of a sale. We want to say that God made a difference in peoples' lives at the corner of Hwy 25E and East Robertson. We pray for this to be a place of healing and peace to everyone who enters this property. That his presence would be what they sense. And if that is the only reason we are here, to be thankful that we have been chosen to minister in this way - what a privilege!
So pray for Perry and I, in that when we must do the daily things - the ordering, the placement, the pricing, the insurance and taxes, that we will be able through the power and presence of the Holy Spirit to look different than any other "business". And we honestly have no idea what that even looks like - we just know what we know we don't want it to look like.
First of all, it was God who led us here to Cross Plains, to this little corner of the world, to live in and work in this house in this community, at this Crossroads of many Robertson County lives. And for me to think it was purely to make a buck would be the most horrible, shallow, selfish thing I can imagine. So I want it to stop before it even gets a chance to take root.
It is an odd thing - being a "Christian" business owner. In some ways, it feels like an oxymoron. I think God has allowed me to become consumed, so that he could see how empty it is. It's been a quiet week in terms of people coming in, but not in terms of the turmoil in my spirit. And I just want to get back to where I was with the Lord. That's the most important thing. With Perry and I both working our other jobs, as well as opening the store, that has sort of encouraged me to put God on the back burner to just simmer to himself while I take care of the bigger pots and put out fires.
So, how am I gonna do this so that it looks different? What is it God wants of me for his kingdom through this store? Because really that's all that matters. Seeking first His kingdom and his righteousness.
Perry and I spent a while praying about this just a bit ago. Praying over all the evil that has tried to invade our family - whether it's commercialism, selling out, illness, mechanical problems, an inordinate amount of flat tires, car wrecks, you name it. And I started to see, it is tiny little increments that the devil works his way into your life, and before you know it you are at complete unrest and he has tried to secure a foothold in every area of your life. So, not only did we pray to our Father, we also did some "talking" to the other side about vacating the property.
We want this business to not be a typical business. We want our focus to remain pure and true. We want to not be sell-outs to commercialism. We want to see every person that walks through this door in terms of eternity, not in terms of a sale. We want to say that God made a difference in peoples' lives at the corner of Hwy 25E and East Robertson. We pray for this to be a place of healing and peace to everyone who enters this property. That his presence would be what they sense. And if that is the only reason we are here, to be thankful that we have been chosen to minister in this way - what a privilege!
So pray for Perry and I, in that when we must do the daily things - the ordering, the placement, the pricing, the insurance and taxes, that we will be able through the power and presence of the Holy Spirit to look different than any other "business". And we honestly have no idea what that even looks like - we just know what we know we don't want it to look like.
Friday, May 21, 2010
The Control Issue
This morning, I sat in the reading room, as I usually do, and just talked to God. There is so much going on - so much drama, so much pride,so much self seeking in our world. Heck, just thinking about all the texts and the twitter posts and the Facebook updates,,, it makes my head spin. I started to wonder how do we even teach this generation what it feels like to sit quietly in the presence of the Lord - just sitting there, still, listening, learning him, taking him in??? It seems such a frenzy today, and I'm talking about us Christians - I am not anti social media. I am totally for it and it is my link to my world and my friends! However, God is still sitting on the couch waiting for me. Did I really have to check my email and Facebook this morning before I checked in with Him? So I just said, "God I need you to talk to me instead of me talking at you this morning". And the thing he keeps saying is "REST". The implications of that word in my life are enormous. I am not a rester. I am a worrier, a tackler, a fixer, a worker, a busybody, a CONTROL FREAK. I am convinced if the phrase "Control Freak" were in the Thesaurus, they would have to actually create a whole separate edition for that one phrase. We don't even realize how much control has been a part of our life until we are out of control.
I want to tell my kids who to date, heck I want my kids to just DATE! I want to fix relationship drama that's going on around me, church drama, I want to convince our "friends" that there is nothing wrong with the tattoo my husband got. I want my granddaughter to know the safety of an intact Godly family. I want to make sure people know I know God and therefore have the many answers that they are seeking. I want to fix the ills of the machine we now call the church, I want to .....let's face it - I want to be God. I admit it - I do. Satan did, and that's the thing he enticed Eve with. And that seems to be the human condition now - at least it's my condition.
You won't die - you'll be like God, knowing both good and evil, he said. Sounded like a fine proposition to her. A pretty good sales pitch on the serpent's part. Who doesn't want to be like God??? Sign me up. And that's where it all started. She didn't know she was signing up to desire to be in control, to never be at rest, to know good and evil in a way she never imagined, to the point of seeing one of her children murder the other, to know what it is to hide from God, to know the agony of what it is to be one's own authority instead of submitting to a Sovreign who really knew you didn't need to know it all, and that was a burden he did not wish for you to bear.
This church change thing has opened a Pandora's box for me on how much control has ruled my life. Yes, the fruit of the Spirit is self-control, but I've been so busy controlling the world, that I don't have time to control self. The fruit of Teresa is attempt at others-control. It is hard to rest. It is hard not to be the teacher, it is hard not to "do, do, do for the kingdom". It's hard to let go of the "program" mentality of the church. It is part of my Christian DNA. I really didn't think it was, but I'm finding out it is embedded in me like a computer chip. It is hard to let people hear God for themselves. It is hard to let them be on their place on their journey, instead of coming to my place on the journey. It is hard for me to be still. I feel guilty. I felt guilty when I had 9 people from six different countries at my home and I didn't hold a tent revival and lead them all to the Lord, sending them back to their respective homes to set the world on fire for Christ because of my bold witness to them. I feel guilty when I make a decision that doesn't go like I thought it should. I feel guilty if I just sit and be still. I feel guilty if I let go of control. And I guess I feel a little scared too.
And that's part of the reason I'm questioning everything I've known about me in relation to the church. The church as an organization has controlled its people so long, we don't know how to rest. I'm sorry if that offends some of you, but let's get real. See I can finally speak my mind. I don't have to wear the mask of the teacher and the Bible college student that has the holy and right and sensible answers all the time. I'm taking off for the summer and I am literally dropping everything at the feet of Jesus. I'm gonna watch the garden grow, listen to the myriad of bird songs, watch the curious cows watching me, draw chalk pictures on the deck with my granddaughter, go to Florida with Sarah Beth and Olivia and Perry and forget everything. I'm going to celebrate my 10th anniversary to my wonderful hubby. I'm gonna laugh at all Shaelin's little self-coined phrases. I'm going to drive my little Beetle Bug with the top down and smile up at the sunshine, and maybe not even wear sunscreen or a hat! But to do all those things, I have to let go of the guilt of "being" instead of "doing". I think the only phrase I remember from the book "The Purpose Driven Life" is the one where he said "the glory of God is a human being - fully alive".
We as the body of Christ have not been fully alive. We have been fully controlled. We have been fully programmed. We have been fully burdened with expectations and comparisons and guilt and .... the list goes on. How many of you have ever felt guilty for missing church to just have a family day, for not being there every time the doors were opened, for not giving enough to the building fund, for questioning why you didn't want to show up for visitation and door-knocking, for not finding a local congregation to worship with during your vacation, for forgetting to study your Sunday School lesson, for not memorizing enough Bible verses, for not having your "quiet time" for a minimum of 15 minutes a day, for not verbally witnessing to every stranger your path crosses, for not having your pocket-sized Bible with you at all times, for questioning where your tithe money is going when you wipe your hands with fancy embossed cloths and a plasma TV at every corner of the campus instead of giving it straight to somebody who is in dire need of it, for wearing jeans to church, for letting a cuss word slip out of your mouth when you slammed the door on your toe...and for questioning God when you don't understand Him?? If you have spent any time in church or grown up in church, you know what I'm talking about. You may even be mad at me for even saying these things and think I am blaspheming and it is an abomination.
Before you burn me at the stake, listen to my "theory". It's where I'm sorta going with this thing- but this part of my journey is just starting so the disclaimer is this - I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! But just suppose -
just suppose that instead of the guilt of memorizing scripture by rote that you fell into such a deep relationship with its author that when you sat down to read his words to you, something gripped you and held you and that section of it took a root in your head and your heart and your spirit, and changed your life that day to where you shared it with people as a result of the living and active and alive thing that it really is...based on the starting point of relationship, not the ritual of scripture memorization. It literally jumped off the page at you because it was alive. I do know that every verse that I hold deeply in my heart has been one that has jumped right off the page and into my very being as I sat and struggled and cried and prayed to my Father and he showed me that day what I needed to see, that one little piece, and it became my own and I never forgot it. What if that's his idea of scripture memorization? Memorizing Him and letting it flow from there?
What if his idea of "evangelism" is not getting a list, knocking on doors, cold calling, taking classes on how to witness, reading books on the subject, marking up your Bible with the Roman Road, flitting in and out of people's lives to "save them", baptize them, chink a notch in your spiritual belt, and go to the next one. What if his only idea for evangelism was relationship? Lifestyle? Getting involved in people's lives and actually truly deeply genuinely loving them?
What if instead of huge businesses that produce "literature" and "curriculum" to dole out to the masses and the classes, what if what God had in mind was the Holy Spirit being your teacher? What if it really was okay to have a class that didn't finish the whole curriculum in time because somebody was suffering and they needed to be ministered to that day, prayed over, loved on? Or if God just wanted to use one phrase, one story, or one scripture verse and dwell on it, delve into it deeper and find treasure way down deep in it and get off the timeline? And what if that prayer for them took longer than you thought and you couldn't get out of your class in time to leave for the football game on TV?
What if when we were singing one day at church, we sensed the presence of God so strongly that we couldn't stop singing and couldn't stop worshipping him, and it was actually okay that we kept going and didn't follow the bulletin?
What if we quit looking at ourselves as the answer to the world? Like we have arrived and you, too, can arrive. What if we quit trying to "sell" Jesus. What if we looked at ourselves exactly the same as everybody else in the world, with the only difference being that you have experienced redemption, and they just haven't...yet? What if we admitted we don't have the answers, but we know somebody that does, and then shut up?
What if I quit praying manipulatively? If I pray hard enough, bold enough, long enough, specifically enough, pray enough scripture, do enough spiritual warfare, then I I I I can change things, or manipulate God into doing the things I am praying for? What if I just spend time thanking him for what I know of his character, what I know of his promises, what I know of his Sovreignty, what I know of his will for his children, and what I don't know of any of the above, and let Him be God for a while?
I don't know. I'm only asking. But when I look over my questions, it becomes blaringly obvious, to me at least, that everything we have known is not relationship. It is methods, rules, expectations, and bondage. I think we might be so far removed that we resemble nothing of what God had in mind for the world as a whole. What if the thing Jesus hated the most - Phariseeism - is the very thing that church actually has embraced? And it was so subtle and so well masqueraded that even the thought of that makes you bristle with anger at me for even mentioning it?
There is a generation of people the age of my children, including some of my children, who hate "church". Who question God. Who think it is a joke. And maybe, just maybe, it's time for us to agree with them, and apologize to them, and wipe the slate clean, and find out what it really is to be a Christ-follower.
The only thing I know for sure right now is that I have no clue! But my spirit knows something's wrong, and that's why I'm looking for answers. No, I'm not forsaking Christ, I'm not quitting church, I'm not hating on Christians. I'm just looking. And for now, I want to look straight at Jesus. I want to look at his character and God's character. And who he was. And what the words in red said because they were words from his beautiful mouth. Not what the latest twitter is, not what the latest hot selling book is, not whether traditional or contemporary is the answer, just Him. I have to clean the slate. There is so much noise, so many buzzwords, and it's all gotten so complicated. Something in my spirit is telling me it is related to control, and that it was never meant to be like this. And that is why I am searching. I am searching for freedom. And I believe I will find it. I may recount some of the things I said, I don't know. All I know is I am a seeker, and God is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. And that for now, I just want to rest. God reminded me He's big enough, but he asked me "are you small enough"?
I want to tell my kids who to date, heck I want my kids to just DATE! I want to fix relationship drama that's going on around me, church drama, I want to convince our "friends" that there is nothing wrong with the tattoo my husband got. I want my granddaughter to know the safety of an intact Godly family. I want to make sure people know I know God and therefore have the many answers that they are seeking. I want to fix the ills of the machine we now call the church, I want to .....let's face it - I want to be God. I admit it - I do. Satan did, and that's the thing he enticed Eve with. And that seems to be the human condition now - at least it's my condition.
You won't die - you'll be like God, knowing both good and evil, he said. Sounded like a fine proposition to her. A pretty good sales pitch on the serpent's part. Who doesn't want to be like God??? Sign me up. And that's where it all started. She didn't know she was signing up to desire to be in control, to never be at rest, to know good and evil in a way she never imagined, to the point of seeing one of her children murder the other, to know what it is to hide from God, to know the agony of what it is to be one's own authority instead of submitting to a Sovreign who really knew you didn't need to know it all, and that was a burden he did not wish for you to bear.
This church change thing has opened a Pandora's box for me on how much control has ruled my life. Yes, the fruit of the Spirit is self-control, but I've been so busy controlling the world, that I don't have time to control self. The fruit of Teresa is attempt at others-control. It is hard to rest. It is hard not to be the teacher, it is hard not to "do, do, do for the kingdom". It's hard to let go of the "program" mentality of the church. It is part of my Christian DNA. I really didn't think it was, but I'm finding out it is embedded in me like a computer chip. It is hard to let people hear God for themselves. It is hard to let them be on their place on their journey, instead of coming to my place on the journey. It is hard for me to be still. I feel guilty. I felt guilty when I had 9 people from six different countries at my home and I didn't hold a tent revival and lead them all to the Lord, sending them back to their respective homes to set the world on fire for Christ because of my bold witness to them. I feel guilty when I make a decision that doesn't go like I thought it should. I feel guilty if I just sit and be still. I feel guilty if I let go of control. And I guess I feel a little scared too.
And that's part of the reason I'm questioning everything I've known about me in relation to the church. The church as an organization has controlled its people so long, we don't know how to rest. I'm sorry if that offends some of you, but let's get real. See I can finally speak my mind. I don't have to wear the mask of the teacher and the Bible college student that has the holy and right and sensible answers all the time. I'm taking off for the summer and I am literally dropping everything at the feet of Jesus. I'm gonna watch the garden grow, listen to the myriad of bird songs, watch the curious cows watching me, draw chalk pictures on the deck with my granddaughter, go to Florida with Sarah Beth and Olivia and Perry and forget everything. I'm going to celebrate my 10th anniversary to my wonderful hubby. I'm gonna laugh at all Shaelin's little self-coined phrases. I'm going to drive my little Beetle Bug with the top down and smile up at the sunshine, and maybe not even wear sunscreen or a hat! But to do all those things, I have to let go of the guilt of "being" instead of "doing". I think the only phrase I remember from the book "The Purpose Driven Life" is the one where he said "the glory of God is a human being - fully alive".
We as the body of Christ have not been fully alive. We have been fully controlled. We have been fully programmed. We have been fully burdened with expectations and comparisons and guilt and .... the list goes on. How many of you have ever felt guilty for missing church to just have a family day, for not being there every time the doors were opened, for not giving enough to the building fund, for questioning why you didn't want to show up for visitation and door-knocking, for not finding a local congregation to worship with during your vacation, for forgetting to study your Sunday School lesson, for not memorizing enough Bible verses, for not having your "quiet time" for a minimum of 15 minutes a day, for not verbally witnessing to every stranger your path crosses, for not having your pocket-sized Bible with you at all times, for questioning where your tithe money is going when you wipe your hands with fancy embossed cloths and a plasma TV at every corner of the campus instead of giving it straight to somebody who is in dire need of it, for wearing jeans to church, for letting a cuss word slip out of your mouth when you slammed the door on your toe...and for questioning God when you don't understand Him?? If you have spent any time in church or grown up in church, you know what I'm talking about. You may even be mad at me for even saying these things and think I am blaspheming and it is an abomination.
Before you burn me at the stake, listen to my "theory". It's where I'm sorta going with this thing- but this part of my journey is just starting so the disclaimer is this - I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! But just suppose -
just suppose that instead of the guilt of memorizing scripture by rote that you fell into such a deep relationship with its author that when you sat down to read his words to you, something gripped you and held you and that section of it took a root in your head and your heart and your spirit, and changed your life that day to where you shared it with people as a result of the living and active and alive thing that it really is...based on the starting point of relationship, not the ritual of scripture memorization. It literally jumped off the page at you because it was alive. I do know that every verse that I hold deeply in my heart has been one that has jumped right off the page and into my very being as I sat and struggled and cried and prayed to my Father and he showed me that day what I needed to see, that one little piece, and it became my own and I never forgot it. What if that's his idea of scripture memorization? Memorizing Him and letting it flow from there?
What if his idea of "evangelism" is not getting a list, knocking on doors, cold calling, taking classes on how to witness, reading books on the subject, marking up your Bible with the Roman Road, flitting in and out of people's lives to "save them", baptize them, chink a notch in your spiritual belt, and go to the next one. What if his only idea for evangelism was relationship? Lifestyle? Getting involved in people's lives and actually truly deeply genuinely loving them?
What if instead of huge businesses that produce "literature" and "curriculum" to dole out to the masses and the classes, what if what God had in mind was the Holy Spirit being your teacher? What if it really was okay to have a class that didn't finish the whole curriculum in time because somebody was suffering and they needed to be ministered to that day, prayed over, loved on? Or if God just wanted to use one phrase, one story, or one scripture verse and dwell on it, delve into it deeper and find treasure way down deep in it and get off the timeline? And what if that prayer for them took longer than you thought and you couldn't get out of your class in time to leave for the football game on TV?
What if when we were singing one day at church, we sensed the presence of God so strongly that we couldn't stop singing and couldn't stop worshipping him, and it was actually okay that we kept going and didn't follow the bulletin?
What if we quit looking at ourselves as the answer to the world? Like we have arrived and you, too, can arrive. What if we quit trying to "sell" Jesus. What if we looked at ourselves exactly the same as everybody else in the world, with the only difference being that you have experienced redemption, and they just haven't...yet? What if we admitted we don't have the answers, but we know somebody that does, and then shut up?
What if I quit praying manipulatively? If I pray hard enough, bold enough, long enough, specifically enough, pray enough scripture, do enough spiritual warfare, then I I I I can change things, or manipulate God into doing the things I am praying for? What if I just spend time thanking him for what I know of his character, what I know of his promises, what I know of his Sovreignty, what I know of his will for his children, and what I don't know of any of the above, and let Him be God for a while?
I don't know. I'm only asking. But when I look over my questions, it becomes blaringly obvious, to me at least, that everything we have known is not relationship. It is methods, rules, expectations, and bondage. I think we might be so far removed that we resemble nothing of what God had in mind for the world as a whole. What if the thing Jesus hated the most - Phariseeism - is the very thing that church actually has embraced? And it was so subtle and so well masqueraded that even the thought of that makes you bristle with anger at me for even mentioning it?
There is a generation of people the age of my children, including some of my children, who hate "church". Who question God. Who think it is a joke. And maybe, just maybe, it's time for us to agree with them, and apologize to them, and wipe the slate clean, and find out what it really is to be a Christ-follower.
The only thing I know for sure right now is that I have no clue! But my spirit knows something's wrong, and that's why I'm looking for answers. No, I'm not forsaking Christ, I'm not quitting church, I'm not hating on Christians. I'm just looking. And for now, I want to look straight at Jesus. I want to look at his character and God's character. And who he was. And what the words in red said because they were words from his beautiful mouth. Not what the latest twitter is, not what the latest hot selling book is, not whether traditional or contemporary is the answer, just Him. I have to clean the slate. There is so much noise, so many buzzwords, and it's all gotten so complicated. Something in my spirit is telling me it is related to control, and that it was never meant to be like this. And that is why I am searching. I am searching for freedom. And I believe I will find it. I may recount some of the things I said, I don't know. All I know is I am a seeker, and God is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. And that for now, I just want to rest. God reminded me He's big enough, but he asked me "are you small enough"?
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Remaining. Running or resting?
Today is one of those days. One of the days you've been asking God a million questions and he starts answering. And you find yourself sitting at your computer working instead of being able to take note of every little thing he is saying, wishing fate had played the "rich" card on you so you could just sit and write and take in every little thing he is saying - that, or be a monk or a nun with lots of thinking time on your hands...
So, I decided just to stop what I was doing. There is so much going on here in my mind that not to document it would be to let it go by and be forgotten. I am writing it here in my blog because my new Windows 7 does not yet have a word processing program. This is the only place I can write. So, if you find it random and rambling, that's fine, it should have been in my personal files and for my own journaling. But maybe you can use some of it - I don't know.
Maybe some of you are on the same journey as I am. A Christian for my whole adult life, growing up in church, being there every time the doors were opened, knowing what a good Christian should "look like" and "do", well schooled in the art of mask-wearing, and now 30-something years later, starting to ask questions and re-evaluating everything I ever knew and learned about what a Christian "should be" and "should look like", and what the church "should be". Seeing that a lot of this somehow just isn't working. And if it was from God, why isn't it working? And, if it's not working, was it even from God?
That one topic alone is a book needing to be written - actually they are being written and selling by the truckloads right now. But I tend to work my way through my own thoughts and God's words to me, before picking up a book to copy their thoughts and revelations. Everybody's in search of the quote that will set the whole Facebook world on its ear. As odd as it might sound, I have never ever in my life read a Beth Moore book or done a Beth Moore study. Or any of those other "women's Bible studies" from great women of the faith in the Southern Baptist Church. I keep meaning to, but I keep getting caught up in what God is telling me himself. And oddly enough, sometimes it's stuff he's told those ladies too, and it's already in a book somewhere, but since I haven't read the books, I don't know that.
Recently, my husband and I heard God telling us and releasing us to go to a different church. It's really the first time I've heard that and it is an odd feeling, one that I'm not quite sure what to do with. As a good little Southern Baptist girl growing up in the Bible belt, I've experienced all the "ways" that "God has told me" to go to a new church. Ways like church splits, too many deacons in control, me wanting control, not liking the preacher, thinking the preacher doesn't like me, wanting to be a little more entertained with better music and speaking, not being "fed" enough. We all have used those phrases and more, and somehow managed to link them to God's will for our lives. Let's face it, we just didn't want to work through the conflict and do the hard things, and we couldn't stand the thought of being there another minute, so it was better (easier) to run away somewhere else and get caught up in their misery (or add to it). Or maybe we were in a church he never called us to be in, in the first place! Heck, even the preachers themselves are in this predicament! The bad thing about not hearing God for yourself from the get-go is that when you are years and miles down the road, boy it is a lot more difficult to start hearing then and doing all the over-correcting you have to do to undo all the false beliefs you've become entrenched in have been replaced by truth.
So that's where I find myself. Quite a predicament! I am called to a baby church plant that espouses the very things I am very uncomfortable with - community, relationship, honesty, giving up control and being real and transparent, and doing in connection with being. And I am more excited about it than I have ever been about a church in my life and at the same time a little concerned because I know there are a lot of changes already taking place that God wants to work through in my life. Not comfortable, but still exciting, because I know this is right and it's good and it's not something I am running away from.
My granddaddy was a preacher, my uncle, and others in my family. I think I was birthed on the back pew in time for my mother to go play the offertory song. I can still taste the iron in the water from the well at that old church I grew up in, feel the chill and smell the stuffiness in the building, when I went in early to unlock the doors and turn the heat or air on with my granddaddy. And I can just as vividly remember the first lie I told in church and how I was sure God was going to strike me dead then and there.
It was a Sunday night "training union" class, and I was about 11 or 12 years old I guess. This particular class was called Bible Learners and the whole purpose of the class was to read the Bible, a noble pursuit don't you think? We went on the honor system, telling each week how many chapters we had read. Well, like any 11 or 12 year old, saved or not, reading the Bible wasn't at the top of my list - especially since good old King James was the only translation at the time. I had good intentions and a lot of guilt and condemnation to go on top of the good intentions, but seems like I never quite made it to the part of the day where I sat and read the begats and begots and thees and thous. However, one particular Sunday night, the teacher was going around the room, asking how many chapters we had read and something clicked in me at that moment in time. I knew I was the preacher's granddaughter, I knew I was expected to be a good girl, I knew it was not acceptable to not read the Bible, so I had a choice to make. And I lied! I told the teacher that night that I read some unthinkable amount of chapters that week (something like 20 or so). The teacher's face beamed and lit up and she gushed over me as she complimented me and compared me in front of the class of young heathens that had not done as well as myself that week. I had that taste of what it felt like to have arrived and I was holy,and by far holier than everybody else in the room. Mission accomplished. Masquerade successful. And a few short weeks later, I stood in front of the church while that same teacher gushed about my dedication to reading God's word and pinned on me the coveted green and gold Bible Learners pin, signified by a gold B and an L intertwined, , but all I could see was the L - L for Liar! And it is then and there that I began to learn the fine art of Christian improv. Because, after all, what is most important in this Christian life I was learning about was appearances, convincing the others that you had no problems, that you were completely victorious in all areas of life, that you never had problems or issues or hang-ups or even hurts, and God help if you ever questioned anything. There would be a healthy ladle full of heaping guilt and questioning your salvation poured upon your curious and pondering little head.
And oh the stories I have to tell - deacons curled up in fetal positions with their ears plugged while my grandfather preached, ugly phone calls to his house, secret meetings, visiting churches on Easter where you were run out with a cane by some old lady who claimed you were sitting in her pew. Oh don't even get me started on the church.
I'm going to stop for today, but let me end it by saying this. Many of us and our children are quite jaded and cynical because of the things we've experienced in church. But I have to remember this before I go any further. Those people, many of them, at least, were actual "blood-bought, Bible-believing" Christians, just like we cynical and jaded folks are. Trouble is, they were taught lies too. I truly believe these people loved God and wanted to be holy and good people. They were just handed it down by the previous generation, and the time has finally come in our society to get real and question the way we've always done it. So, before we go to the next day jaded and judging, just try to believe the best about those people that have hurt you in your past church experience. Because, for me, what it's all about now is wiping the slate clean, unlearning everything I knew, and relearning it accurately and truthfully. And for that - I'm excited. Just this one week has been a tremendous social experiment in Christian expectations, as I will allude to one day later, and probably offend you with at the same time, haha.
The older I get, the less I know and the more flaws I see in me, and that is why I am on this journey, this journey for the truth and nothing but the truth - So help me, God!
So, I decided just to stop what I was doing. There is so much going on here in my mind that not to document it would be to let it go by and be forgotten. I am writing it here in my blog because my new Windows 7 does not yet have a word processing program. This is the only place I can write. So, if you find it random and rambling, that's fine, it should have been in my personal files and for my own journaling. But maybe you can use some of it - I don't know.
Maybe some of you are on the same journey as I am. A Christian for my whole adult life, growing up in church, being there every time the doors were opened, knowing what a good Christian should "look like" and "do", well schooled in the art of mask-wearing, and now 30-something years later, starting to ask questions and re-evaluating everything I ever knew and learned about what a Christian "should be" and "should look like", and what the church "should be". Seeing that a lot of this somehow just isn't working. And if it was from God, why isn't it working? And, if it's not working, was it even from God?
That one topic alone is a book needing to be written - actually they are being written and selling by the truckloads right now. But I tend to work my way through my own thoughts and God's words to me, before picking up a book to copy their thoughts and revelations. Everybody's in search of the quote that will set the whole Facebook world on its ear. As odd as it might sound, I have never ever in my life read a Beth Moore book or done a Beth Moore study. Or any of those other "women's Bible studies" from great women of the faith in the Southern Baptist Church. I keep meaning to, but I keep getting caught up in what God is telling me himself. And oddly enough, sometimes it's stuff he's told those ladies too, and it's already in a book somewhere, but since I haven't read the books, I don't know that.
Recently, my husband and I heard God telling us and releasing us to go to a different church. It's really the first time I've heard that and it is an odd feeling, one that I'm not quite sure what to do with. As a good little Southern Baptist girl growing up in the Bible belt, I've experienced all the "ways" that "God has told me" to go to a new church. Ways like church splits, too many deacons in control, me wanting control, not liking the preacher, thinking the preacher doesn't like me, wanting to be a little more entertained with better music and speaking, not being "fed" enough. We all have used those phrases and more, and somehow managed to link them to God's will for our lives. Let's face it, we just didn't want to work through the conflict and do the hard things, and we couldn't stand the thought of being there another minute, so it was better (easier) to run away somewhere else and get caught up in their misery (or add to it). Or maybe we were in a church he never called us to be in, in the first place! Heck, even the preachers themselves are in this predicament! The bad thing about not hearing God for yourself from the get-go is that when you are years and miles down the road, boy it is a lot more difficult to start hearing then and doing all the over-correcting you have to do to undo all the false beliefs you've become entrenched in have been replaced by truth.
So that's where I find myself. Quite a predicament! I am called to a baby church plant that espouses the very things I am very uncomfortable with - community, relationship, honesty, giving up control and being real and transparent, and doing in connection with being. And I am more excited about it than I have ever been about a church in my life and at the same time a little concerned because I know there are a lot of changes already taking place that God wants to work through in my life. Not comfortable, but still exciting, because I know this is right and it's good and it's not something I am running away from.
My granddaddy was a preacher, my uncle, and others in my family. I think I was birthed on the back pew in time for my mother to go play the offertory song. I can still taste the iron in the water from the well at that old church I grew up in, feel the chill and smell the stuffiness in the building, when I went in early to unlock the doors and turn the heat or air on with my granddaddy. And I can just as vividly remember the first lie I told in church and how I was sure God was going to strike me dead then and there.
It was a Sunday night "training union" class, and I was about 11 or 12 years old I guess. This particular class was called Bible Learners and the whole purpose of the class was to read the Bible, a noble pursuit don't you think? We went on the honor system, telling each week how many chapters we had read. Well, like any 11 or 12 year old, saved or not, reading the Bible wasn't at the top of my list - especially since good old King James was the only translation at the time. I had good intentions and a lot of guilt and condemnation to go on top of the good intentions, but seems like I never quite made it to the part of the day where I sat and read the begats and begots and thees and thous. However, one particular Sunday night, the teacher was going around the room, asking how many chapters we had read and something clicked in me at that moment in time. I knew I was the preacher's granddaughter, I knew I was expected to be a good girl, I knew it was not acceptable to not read the Bible, so I had a choice to make. And I lied! I told the teacher that night that I read some unthinkable amount of chapters that week (something like 20 or so). The teacher's face beamed and lit up and she gushed over me as she complimented me and compared me in front of the class of young heathens that had not done as well as myself that week. I had that taste of what it felt like to have arrived and I was holy,and by far holier than everybody else in the room. Mission accomplished. Masquerade successful. And a few short weeks later, I stood in front of the church while that same teacher gushed about my dedication to reading God's word and pinned on me the coveted green and gold Bible Learners pin, signified by a gold B and an L intertwined, , but all I could see was the L - L for Liar! And it is then and there that I began to learn the fine art of Christian improv. Because, after all, what is most important in this Christian life I was learning about was appearances, convincing the others that you had no problems, that you were completely victorious in all areas of life, that you never had problems or issues or hang-ups or even hurts, and God help if you ever questioned anything. There would be a healthy ladle full of heaping guilt and questioning your salvation poured upon your curious and pondering little head.
And oh the stories I have to tell - deacons curled up in fetal positions with their ears plugged while my grandfather preached, ugly phone calls to his house, secret meetings, visiting churches on Easter where you were run out with a cane by some old lady who claimed you were sitting in her pew. Oh don't even get me started on the church.
I'm going to stop for today, but let me end it by saying this. Many of us and our children are quite jaded and cynical because of the things we've experienced in church. But I have to remember this before I go any further. Those people, many of them, at least, were actual "blood-bought, Bible-believing" Christians, just like we cynical and jaded folks are. Trouble is, they were taught lies too. I truly believe these people loved God and wanted to be holy and good people. They were just handed it down by the previous generation, and the time has finally come in our society to get real and question the way we've always done it. So, before we go to the next day jaded and judging, just try to believe the best about those people that have hurt you in your past church experience. Because, for me, what it's all about now is wiping the slate clean, unlearning everything I knew, and relearning it accurately and truthfully. And for that - I'm excited. Just this one week has been a tremendous social experiment in Christian expectations, as I will allude to one day later, and probably offend you with at the same time, haha.
The older I get, the less I know and the more flaws I see in me, and that is why I am on this journey, this journey for the truth and nothing but the truth - So help me, God!
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