SexGod and strange insights
For months now conversations surrounding Rob Bell's
SexGod and relationships have been a part of life. And there always seems to be another conversation to have about the subject. And today the thing that runs through my mind is how sick to death I am of people being all wrapped up in relationships. Because relationships are complex, I know, but I don't think they need to be nearly so complicated as people make them. People are always
over thinking thngs and placing way too much importance on things and getting all crazy about relationships.I'm tired of boys who think they are so important that any interest I show in their life must be expressing I am in love with them. I am tired of girls who are so pathetically insecure that they make their issues into my issues--isolating, ignoring, or spreading lies about me because they don't love themselves. I am tired of guys who are too weak to stand up to pathetically insecure girlfriends, or too scared to find out why I have an interest in their life rather than making assumptions. Most of all, I am tired of people who have no better understanding of relationship than I do criticizing my supposed failures in the area of relationship. I actually know a lot about relationship, because I've had enough bad experiences to figure out what good relationship is really about in many ways.
Sure, there is a lot I still don't understand about the ways that people relate to one another, and I certainly don't get any awards for past romantic encounters gone right, but I don't think that the way I approach relationship should be looked down upon. People should love one another. People should take interest in one
another's lives. People should need one another and help one another and accept one another. And that isn't complicated--no matter how complex it may be. Because if we were really thinking about relating, connecting with the life of another, and not thinking about what benefits us, all the
over thinking and craziness goes away. And so does most of the hurt and confusion and insecurity and assumption that makes relationship seem like it may not be worth the effort. Loving people is hard work, but when you take out all of those negative things that arise out of our selfishness and extreme self-preservation, it is always worth the effort.
Right now, I am tired of other people making it hard for me to love people. Because their selfishness and their extreme self-preservation is bringing hurt and confusion and insecurity and assumption into my life and my relationships. They are creating struggle where none existed. And they are causing me to call into question whether being related with them is worth the effort. I hate that they have been able to do that--to cause me to question whether loving people is worth it.
It is worth it. Loving people is worth it. If I am worth dying for, like Bell says, then everyone else is worth dying for as well. So, love is worth it, even when loving others brings ugly stuff into my life. But it is hard to keep telling yourself that after so much ugliness has passed before your eyes. So I guess I need to remind myself of the good.
A couple weeks ago, Maxie spoke about the things that people are willing to die for--nobody dies for
Walmart, he said. And when I need to be reminded of what is worth dying for, I don't look to my supposed friends or assumed love interests or the insecure girls around me. I drive through the poorest, most crime-ridden parts of my city and I look at the crack addicts and the homeless and the gangsters to remind me of what love is and what is worth dying for. Ugliness reminds me of love, while people who once claimed to, appeared to, or pretended to love me bring ugliness into my life. Kinda funny, really.
So...relationships. I'm just gonna love people, and maybe I'll even figure out how to love them enough that I don't let them bring ugliness. Or maybe learn how to love them in spite of the ugliness. And I think the way to do that is to focus on not letting any selfishness or self-preservation invade my own heart.
For some reason show tunes are running through my head
Last night Scott reminded me that I am a poet and an artist. It seems funny I would have forgotten that. But I did forget that.
He said something about drawing things instead of using all of our words to try and explain them, and I thought about my sketches of self-portraits that I do every five or six months. Drawing myself says way more about who I am and who I was and where I've traveled than a journal does--and I can flip through six or eight pages and relive that journey, rather than reading page after page of daily thoughts in a journal. He also said something about poetry, and I went home and dug out a disk of poems I've written and I was amazed at the volumes those pages speak.
It is funny, but I think better when I am creating. I suppose that makes some sense--sort of like how I learn better when I am teaching--but it is still sorta strange. Strange, but true. Something deeper, more thoughtful, more raw and more challenging comes from me when I draw and write poems or songs. Something more true and more free seems to happen in my soul when artistic form is tied to my thoughts and emotions.
So, I wrote poems last night. And someday soon I will climb my favorite peak and sit in the brisk air drawing yet another self-portrait. And somehow I will be more true and more free and will gain greater clarity about where I fit in this crazy messed up world.
Piano lessons saved my life
I'm sure my mom would be happy to know that piano lessons saved my life. It is true. I've just finished pounding out every song I've written (at least the ones I can remember) and banging out some chords that threaten to become a song someday, and I feel 10,000 times better than I did just an hour before. Piano lessons saved my life.
When life really overwhelms me and everything seems worthless, I play the piano. Since I don't own a piano, that can be a challenge, but I always seem to access one when I need it. This morning's piano resides in the 3rd floor youth rally room behind a bunch of stuff, so I had to crawl over stage lights and music stands and candles to get to it, but it was worth the challenge. Somehow playing lets me empty all the crud from my soul and I feel lighter and more free than I did before.
I'm really not a very negative person. I'm usually pretty hopeful. But lately there has been so much negative stuff, and the stuff that isn't negative is simply unresolved (which can feel negative) and that it is getting me down. And it seems I am not the only one plagued by negative stuff. Several of my friends seem to be falling apart in the same moment that I am. But creative release is good for the soul and I feel somehow stronger and better and more hopeful again after only an hour of piano. That feels good. And it feels good to know that there is always a way through the negative--I just have to press on until I find that way. Today the path leads over candles and lights to the piano. And tomorrow maybe it will lead to gainful employment and new relationships and time with loved ones and trips across the country. I hope that it might--and I am glad to feel hopeful once more.
For months now
Well...it seems that keeping up with my blog is not a priority the last while. I haven't written anything for months now. But, there is plenty I could have written. I could have written about my many classes that challenged and angered me this summer. I could have written about the relationships that have come and those that have gone--the many gains and losses of transition--or the job search, or the way that I cannot seem to leave what I love, even when it doesn't want me to stay. Actually, I think I will write about the thing I love and cannot leave, even when it doesn't want me to stay.
I sit in a poor excuse for an office at a church where I do not work. My internship was complete a couple of months ago and I wasn't hired by JonMark and Rob--mostly because I am overqualified and therefore have no true longevity to promise them. I keep showing up here. I volunteer where I can, I sit on Karyn or JonMark's sofas and read, or I just work on school stuff and emails in my poor excuse for an office. It is strange that I cannot leave. In so many ways I belong here. In so many ways this community needs my vision and my voice, but it doesn't seem to want that vision and that voice. At least not the whole community.
I have five ministers who support the idea of me being paid by the church to intern with Neighborhood Ministries while helping the church connect with the surrounding community. JonMark has even said that I am the missing link--one who can live in this context and live in the context of the poverty of the city and move from one world to the other. I am the bridge between middle class white society and the darkest corners of our city. But the church as a whole, while it needs the bridge, doesn't seem to want to cross it. So I remain here, hoping to be honored as the bridge, but never seeing that hope realized. And I dread the moment when I am forced to leave. I dread the moment when they finally say, not just with actions but with words, "We don't want this." I dread the moment when they verbalize that they don't want to be Christ--when they prove that Christ's call to love and feed and clothe and bring freedom is not a part of their agenda. I dread that moment because putting me out is not only hurting me, but it is denying the support of those amazing ministers who believe that I am what this community needs--that the vision God has placed in my mind, and the compassion and love God placed in my heart are what the people of God need. The gap between the visionaries and the "old boys" threatens to widen. And I hate to leave the people that I love divided and frustrated. But I feel powerless to connect them.
I will stay. Even after they clear out my desk and send me on my way, I will stay. Perhaps I cannot be of help to them in any official capacity. Perhaps I must find support for my ministry in another place. But I will remain a part of this community, and I will give the ministers who choose to accept it the opportunity to reach into the city and to work for change. I will build a bridge, regardless of how many people choose to cross it. I AM a bridge. That is my purpose. That is my call. And no amount of "old boys" can keep me from living out my calling.
I really love this crazy messed-up place. I belong here--at least one foot belongs here. The other belongs in the barrios and dark alleys of this city. And maybe my poor excuse for an office will remain for a longer time than I anticipate. Maybe my young minister friends have more influence than I know, or maybe God will grant my prayers and change hearts and budgets in favor of my support. I have a feeling that changing the world happens one heart at a time. I'm praying that enough hearts change that we don't need a bridge. Someday, we will all live on the same side.
