Disunity

"Disunity distorts truth, wastes resources, hinders witness, impoverishes worship and discredits the gospel." Statement by an anonymous Irish Methodist; quoted by the Most Reverend George Carey, Archbishop of Canterbury at ecumenical vespers, 2000-MAY-17.

Three years ago when the controversial book, “The Shack” came out, I was reticent to read it myself, for fear it would be heretical.  A trusted friend talked about how much it challenged her preconceived notions on religious topics, so I decided to tackle the infamous tome myself.  It was a roller coaster ride of emotions, but one that I was thrilled to take, for it opened to me a new world of understanding of who God is.

Years ago a counselor recommended “Your God is Too Small” to me, by J.B. Phillips.  As the title attests, my God was in a box, and I needed to let Him out and know Him as He really is.  This was the start of a journey of rediscovery, of breaking the bonds of legalism.  The places that say, “We are the only right church,” or “we are the only right Christian organization.” 

No matter where I go, I seem to attract people who want to keep God in a box.  First in a church that literally said, “We are the only right church.”  Then, in a college organization whose secret agenda was, “we are the only right organization.”   I had had enough confusion to last me a lifetime. 

Unfortunately, I have experienced a new wave of boxed in believers.  And in my own church, of which I have been a faithful member for seventeen years.  I know my church and the leadership within it are not like my predecessors.  Even so, there are some who have created dissension and division, and have put God securely in His box. 

Another controversy that has played out in the last few years, including now, is Rob Bell.  If spoken, it is as if one had said an offensive word, as it is to some, I presume.  After personal experience of others making false judgments of me without getting to know me, I decided to read his work for myself.  “Get it from the horse’s mouth,” as it were.  Although I don’t agree with everyone Bell writes, I find his writing style refreshing.  He only says out loud what most of us are thinking.  Bell doesn’t purport to give the final answers, but to challenge us, like “The Shack,” to open the box and discover God and who He really is.  As I like to say, “You can’t throw out the baby with the bathwater.”  As well in this case, Bell makes some eye-opening statements that bear thinking. 

The boxed in believers like to accuse my church and others of becoming emergent churches.  As I said before, I need to go to the source itself to get the truth.  The Emergent Village is a specific organization.  The emerging movement is a postmodern movement in the church community at large.  There are different understanding of the emerging movement, so it is confusing at best, mind-boggling at worst when one is trying to defends one’s church against accusations of being an ‘emergent church.’  I don’t purport to be a seminarian, so I will try to explain this in terms that make sense, I hope.

The first question to ask is do they believe in absolute truth?  There is absolute truth, but our doctrine is also affected by our culture, our times, and our communities.  Our Christianity is Americanized.  Another question to ask is how do they worship?  Most churches have a minister, sermon, pews, and once a month communion.  The emerging church seeks a more experiential worship, not one that has been so sanitized to be devoid of any emotionality.  Another question is what does one believe important?  Of course, but another necessary component of Christianity is not only right beliefs but also right behavior.  In the story of the sheep and goats in Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus explains the meaning of the parable in that we will be judged by how we treated those who we consider the lowest of society.  In being helpful and merciful to the least of these, we are doing the same to Jesus.  Another question is who is in and who is out in regards to heaven and hell.  The emerging church seems to state that it is not always clear who is on or out.  The dividing line is not always so clear.  It is not up to us to determine that.  Finally, the emerging church tends to lean left politically.

I don’t know if my church is emergent or not.  I don’t think that emergent churches are necessarily a bad thing.  All I know is that when I discovered Church of the Open Door seventeen years ago, I felt I finally came home.  The spirit was alive, and the truth was spoken.  Some in the church think things have changed over the last few years. I don’t think so.  I just think these same people, the boxed in believers, have anger in their hearts, a padlock on their brains, and an unwillingness to embrace the power-under kingdom that Jesus talks about.  Instead of going to the staff at my church, they have chosen to spread their perceptions to others, creating confusion and division in the body.  In fact, this is the very thing that Jesus prayed about in John 17: 20-23, that we would live in unity as the Godhead three-in-one, to demonstrate to the world that God loves us.  I can see why nonbelievers have trouble trusting us, how can they when we are so divisive?  This is not love; it is anger, in which we are called to put aside in Colossians 3:8-15.  Instead we must put on love, humility, and patience.  In addition, we are called to peace, knowing that Christ is in all of us, all of those who believe.

What can be done about division?  I know my church has given sermons about such topics lately, and I don’t know if it has seeped into the boxed in believers’ minds yet.  I have known of members who have gone to the church for years and yet still live with such a mindset.  This boggles my mind.  It’s Church of the ‘Open Door!’  I know I must pray, pray, pray, as Jesus did, so that our witness isn’t ruined.  I know I’m not perfect, and have been guilty of this same divisive behavior in the past.  It saddens me now, to know how I distorted the truth and portrayed God as an ogre.  I still regret that.  I need to remember to ask God to help me love those who are angry, instead of being angry myself.  Why was I a boxed in believer?  I think I wanted to be god, I wanted to control everything and make sense of everything, so I could rest secure in myself and my rules, and be perfect.  How deluded I was!  I was the epitome of an idol, I idolized myself.  I thought I had it all figured out, until division happened while at college.  I realized I was my god, and I didn’t know the one and only true God.  I had to start over, just reading His Word.  I so love the Word, for I can rest assure that it is truth, and it sets me free.  

I don’t think division is a problem that can go away.  We can’t control what others think.  I do think it is the greatest tool that the devil uses to ruin our witness.  As I always say, God gave us a brain, and He expects us to use it.  Some people just don’t use it.  They’d rather let others make decisions for them.  That is much easier, but I’d rather be true to myself and God than to an idol.  All we can do is pray, and defend the truth, share God’s love, and be free. 

Half the Sky

I am thankful to be born in a country where I have the right to vote, as guaranteed by the nineteenth amendment to the United States Constitution.  I am protected by law against abuse and neglect.  I received compulsory education.  I have access to health care.  I didn’t earn these benefits; they came by default by way of place.  I am born in a place where I am free and equal in the eyes of the law. 

Others are not so lucky.  They are born in a place where they are not free or equal.  They don’t have protection by their country’s founding documents.  They are not protected by law from abuse or neglect.  They don’t receive an education, at least not equal to their counterparts.  They don’t have access to health care, at least not equal to their counterparts.  They are not being punished by any action on their part.  It is, be default, by way of place.

There is an ancient Chinese proverb that states “Women hold up half the sky.”  Maybe in industrialized, democratic countries they do, but in developing dictatorships they are not allowed to.  An African proverb affirms, “If you educate a boy, you educate an individual.  If you educate a girl, you educate a community.”  This is so telling, for in countries where girls are not educated, the nation is stagnant in its economy, violence is rampant, and society never enters the 20^th century. 

Because of place, a girl is mutilated in the guise of keeping her from promiscuity.  She doesn’t have the right to say no to this brutal act.  Because of place, a woman is molested by a soldier fighting a civil war.  No one hears her cries as she is just another enemy to destroy. 

Because of place, a girl isn’t educated.  She doesn’t have the opportunity to bring her community into modernity.  Because of place, a woman doesn’t get prenatal care, and dies trying to give birth to a baby, leaving her children motherless.

There are more slaves in the present slave trade than there ever was during the African slave trade.  These are enslaved in the sex trade, being bought and sold as a piece of property to be used, abused, and left for dead.

Literacy is the path to empowerment.  Thus, in countries where men hold and enforce power, girls are handicapped by their inability to perform these basic skills that we take for granted.

Women without access to maternal care are force to give birth unattended.  Prolonged labor can result in fistulas, which weaken the muscles of the bladder and anus, causing the mother to not be able to control her urination or defecation.

Women who are not allowed to work deny their communities half the resources it could use to help the very ones who need it: families.  If they work and control the family funds, the family is provided for, and the money is saved. 

Of course, we in developed nations don’t always have freedoms and equality.  It has only been near 100 years since we gained suffrage in America.  But we are getting there, slowly but surely, to the point where half the sky is not only a quote but also a reality.

In developing nations in Africa and Asia, due to the government, or lack thereof, women and girls are still living in the harsh reality of abuse, neglect, death, and horror.  But there are a few shining lights in the darkness of this hell.

Edna Adan built a maternity hospital in Somaliland.  This place has the highest maternal and infant mortality rates in the world.  Not only does her hospital provide maternal care where there is none, it also fights against genital mutilation.

Rebecca Lolosoli founded the Umoja Uaso village in Kenya, a safe refuge for women and their children to escape the abuse and neglect from the men in their lives.  They raise chickens and sell native crafts to sustain themselves and provide an education for their children.

Somaly Mam rescues girls and women from brothels in Southeast Asia, and provides these victims a home, education, health care, and vocational training. 

Urmi Basu provides education, health care, vocational opportunities, and legal aid to women and children trying to escape prostitution in the red light district of Kolkata, India. 

There are many more, countless numbers of brave women who decided to, in one way or another, live out the old adage and lift the sky, for all of their fellow countrymen, and women.   They defied the constraints they face, in their place, to enact a better place for the generations to come.  Because of these brave women, maybe someday all women around the world will be able to join us, in this place, to “lift the sky.” 

www.halftheskymovement.org/

All Because of My Body

In a vintage Twilight Zone episode, a woman is coming out of anesthesia after cosmetic surgery.  As she impatiently waits for the doctor to remove the bandages around her face, she nervously anticipates the results.  As the doctor slowly unwinds the wrappings, the nurses surrounding the patient look on, trying to hide their feelings.  For when the camera pans to the woman’s face, we see a beautiful face, and wonder why.  We finally see the faces of the medical professionals, of who have the faces of a pig.

This television episode explored how beauty is relative.  To us in the real world, pig people appear rather hideous.  Here, pig faces are the epitome of beauty. 

I was born with a physical disorder that affected the way I look, move, and sound.  My body is asymmetrical, including my face, limbs, and crooked spine. Due to my cleft palate and resulting surgeries, I sound like a child with a perpetual cold.  Because of my crooked spine, causing parts of it to be naturally fused, my movements are stiff. 

Throughout my lifetime I have been stared at by all ages, from a brief moment to throughout a meal at a restaurant.  I have been followed in stores, mocked like a monkey, and treated as if I was intellectually delayed or about to break. 

All because of my body.  It betrays me, the mind, heart, and spirit within.  I am so much more than my body, but yet I am judged solely by it.  I have been rejected by men, discriminated against in school and in the workplace, and bullied in said places.

My body is a science experiment, an anomaly in the world of genetics.  I have been poked and prodded by medical professionals, displayed naked in the doctors’ office as if an animal in a zoo, and a constant sense of wonder and surprise for any new doctor I meet.

All because of my body.  It is only a suitcase, to take me from Point A to Point B.  It holds in all my organs, bones, muscles, and cells, and protects me from the elements.  And yet because of my disfigurement, I have been treated as if I am an alien from outer space.  I come in peace.

In God’s Word, it tells me that God created me, wonderfully and beautifully.  People say, “God don’t make no junk.”  Yet I struggled with my body for forty years.  I did all I could to look and sound as “normal” as I could.  I walked straight as a board to belie my crooked spine.  I wore make-up and had long and curly hair, to hide my face and crooked neck.  I wore fashionable clothes that accentuated my skinny form.  I did all I could to create a “false” me.

Not that there’s anything wrong with doing any of those things.  It is good for your back to walk and sit straight.  Make-up, styled hair, and fashionable clothes can exude confidence in a woman.  But nothing I ever did could hide this body of mine. 

So I gave up on make-up.  I cut my hair to shoulder length.  I still get it colored and permed (due to genetic factors I also grayed early).  I don’t wear fancy clothes anymore.  I wear jeans and tops.  Comfortable clothes that still manage to look good on my body. 

I started instead to eat better and exercise.  Instead of my body being a curse, it was something I needed to take care of.  It’s going to be with me until I die, so if I want quality of life, I better be healthy. 

Now I like to look at myself in the mirror.  I focus on the good parts: my figure, clear complexion, hazel eyes, full lips, slim body, hands and feet.    I still can’t see myself on video, my stiff movements, or hear myself on audio, my stuffy childish voice.  But I love me and like me.  After forty years. 

I like to think that in Heaven, I’ll get a perfect body, with perfect voice, and perfect movements.  I’ll finally be able to sing without anyone yelling at me to shut up, and dance without looking like a robot.  Until then, I will just have to pretend I have the voice of an angel and the dance of a ballerina.   

Dr. John Lonstein

Having had pain in my arm and hand for the last 8 months, and not having found permanent relief, I decided to finally see my spine specialist, Dr. John Lonstein, to see if it had to do with my Klippel-Feil syndrome. But when I called to make an appointment, I found that he had finally retired.  It was not a surprise, he is is probably my parent's age, but I was hoping to see him again one last time.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe just a feeling of accomplishment on our part, that I survived and didn't have to have spine surgery.  Something that neither of us wanted, knowing the danger of such a drastic step.  

I wonder if pediatric doctors think about their patients.  Do they worry about them?  Do they doubt themselves?  Do they wonder how their patients are as they grow up and are no longer needing their services?

I was always afraid of doctors.  Afraid that I would have to have yet another surgery.  Lonstein was from South Africa, so he had a strong accent that I couldn't understand, so my mom was the interpreter for me.  I hated the doctoral students standing there in a clump, looking at me like an animal in a zoo, with their clipboards clutched to their chests, not saying a word.

I feel bad now about what an unpleasant patient I must have been.  I know I was just a scared little kid, but I hope that Lonstein knows that I turned out OK. I managed to learn to drive, graduate college, have a career, and live on my own.  It may not seem like much to others, but to me, it was a miracle.

A miracle made possible partly by Dr. John Lonstein.  He saved my life, and made it livable.  Thank you.

Nursing Homes

My dad spent a total of a month in three different nursing homes in 2015.  The first was the worst.  It was so bad, we despaired of him making it out alive or at least sane.  I made a deal with God that if He got my dad home again and healthy, I would write a letter to the powers that be about the awful conditions at that nursing home.  My dad did make it home OK, and he is healed now.  So a few weeks ago I sent a letter to two places, describing my dad's experience at the home.  If you want to do this for your loved one, here are two websites that can help you:
http://www.health.state.mn.us/divs/fpc/ohfcinfo/index.html
http://mn.gov/dhs/people-we-serve/seniors/services/ombudsman/

Here is an excerpt of the letter I wrote:

"So I write this in the hopes that you do something about it.  The elderly and infirm need us.  They need us to stand up for what is right.  To do what they are unable to do themselves.  I hope you consider this and other complaints that I have seen investigated.  I know that in some measures this center is not much different than others across the USA.  That does not make it a good center by default.  It just describes the sad state of affairs that our nursing homes are in!  Our elderly have worked all their lives and sacrificed so much for their families and their communities for this?  This is the reward they can expect from years of paying their taxes?  To be cared for by temporary staff that have little inclination of what they are doing, and don’t seem to care either?"

During this time I also did some research.  I found a website that ranks nursing homes: http://health.usnews.com/best-nursing-homes.  From what I read, it seems accurate.  I also found another website that helps you get whatever services or help you need for your senior: http://metroaging.org/.  Aside from the nursing home rating site, the other sites are for Minnesota, but something similar should be in your state.  I also learned that when you enter a home, you get a patient bill of rights.  If you don't, ask for one; they are required to give you one.

My mom advocated for my dad every day.  If she was not there, I don't know if he would have survived.  I know the nursing assistants are minimally educated and trained, but that is no excuse for laziness, abuse, or neglect.  I know it is a sucky job, one I don't think I could ever do.  But that is no excuse either.  The elderly are vulnerable humans.  They don't always have the ability to defend themselves.  So it is up to the rest of us to do it.  I know it's hard to put your parent in a home.  There are some good ones out there.  I have seen them.  But if you can choose, choose wisely.  Listen to your intuition.  Ask questions.  Demand answers.  You are the consumer, you are paying the staff's salary.  You know what's best for your parent.  Think about what they have done for you.  Then think about what they would want you to do for them, if you can.  They deserve to live their lives out in dignity.

I'm Not Racist

About 15 years ago I worked as a special needs coordinator in an inner city child care center in Minneapolis.  I helped children with special needs get the help they needed.  I got along with the staff for the most part, a few not liking me or not willing to work with me because they were not willing to make changes in their classroom to help the special needs children I was trying to help.  Some teachers I just didn't like because they were controlling and not loving, or just standing or sitting around, not doing their job.

Such was the case for two new aides, who happened to be black.  I was talking to another staff person in that room, who I liked, and thanked her for being there.  I told her I was glad she was there and that I thought she was doing a great job.  I thought we were having a good conversation when I made a faux pas.  I complained about the two black aides in that room.  I shouldn't have complained at all to anybody about any staff, but as usual, I spoke before I thought.  Even though this teacher that I liked didn't know me, she went to our boss and accused me of racism.

I was shocked that she would say that.  To me, it suspended logic.  Why would I take this job, knowing that I would be helping children of all races?  Why would I tell this new teacher, a lesbian, that I thought she was doing a great job?  If I was racist, wouldn't I also be prone to being homophobic?  And finally, as someone who knows what it is like to be discriminated against because of my appearance, why would I be racist?

Even though I have been bullied many times through the years in my various jobs, this was the most painful thing I ever experienced in my employment.  I loved the kids I worked with, of all races.  I got along great with some of the staff, of all races.  I have worked with people who were racist.  I just couldn't believe that someone would accuse me of such a heinous thing.

I felt like it ruined what credibility I had with the staff.  It was hard not to feel paranoid about what people were thinking or saying about me.  I tried to keep doing my job to the best of my ability, but I always had that incident in the back of my mind.

So when people accuse others of racism, or anything other "ism," I want to take a better look.  I want to look at the whole person, not just what they sad one time.  It depends on what a person says, does, and believes.  It is not just a word ill-said.

I used to think my grandpa was racist against the Japanese.  Some men who served in the Pacific theatre during WWII called the Japanese "Japs."  So did my grandpa.  I used to correct him as a kid, I thought I knew everything then.

But as I grew older and learned more about the war, and about what my grandpa experienced during the war, I learned a few things.

I learned that when you have an enemy in a war, it is easier to do battle with them if you don't see them as human.  So you create a derogatory name to describe them.  In this case, Japs.

Also, my grandpa saw the destruction the Japanese military did on the many little islands in the Pacific.  These islands were inhabited by natives who had nothing, and yet, this was taken away too.  Their lives were changed by a selfish dictator who wanted more power, no matter the cost.

So I began to realize my grandpa wasn't racist.

It is not an easy thing to know someone, to understand.  It is much easier to judge and accuse, and damn the consequences.  We all do that.  I know I do.

But I implore people nowadays to do just that.  At least don't accuse someone of something so heinous until you see the whole picture.  If you don't have time or the inclination, don't judge at all. I know, I am just as guilty and need to take my own advice!  But realize the destruction that happens when someone is accused of an "ism."  Just because someone is in the "majority," it doesn't mean their feelings don't matter, or that they are without problems.

All lives matter.

Minnie

 

Over the last 6 months, since my dad fell, I have spent a lot more time with my parents' dog, Minnie.  I stayed there for a total of 6 weeks, helping my mom out and keeping Minnie company.  Not only did Minnie comfort us when we were trying to cope with my Dad's injury, she was a great comfort to me in my own grieving for my beloved pet, Chocolate, who passed away a year ago.

Minnie loves to just sit on our laps and be loved, or take naps with us on the leather couch.  She also loves to run around outside and bark at all the woodland critters, telling them to stay away.  Unfortunately, she also likes to eat animal poop!  But she is good hunter.  Last summer she killed 4 young groundhogs.  But usually, the chipmunks and squirrels are too fast for her, as they can run up trees.  But she doesn't give up, she keeps trying, in the hopes that someday, she will catch her prey.

Minnie loves her mommy and daddy.  She was so depressed the first few days when Dad was gone that she wouldn't eat her food.  When he came back, she was so excited, leaping and barking all over the place.   Actually, she does that whenever they come home, as if they had been gone forever.  She is not at peace until they are home.

She also protects us.  She protected me against a big, hyper dog, growling and barking at it to stop.  She protected my mom against a woodchuck, wrestling with it until my mom was able to kill it with a few good whacks from a shovel.  And she protected her doggy cousin from a big, scary dog that tried to attack her, by jumping on it and trying to stop it.  For her troubles, she got a few bites, but she was OK.
I love this dog.  I look forward to seeing her when I come over.  She always gets so exicted.  How could anyone not love that cute little face?  I am so glad mom and dad asopted her.  She is just what we needed.  And she needed us too.