A Temanite, a Shuhite and a Naamathite Walked into a Crisis

I am re-calibrating my life. I have taken a long look at some of my presuppositions and expectations, sorted through them and have discarded a few while carefully embracing others. One of the the assumptions I have corrected is my need for and willingness to be connected to people. My conclusion? Having people around is inevitable and sometimes enjoyable but I don't need it. I used to think I was fairly social. I used to think that friendships and relationships were a necessity for my sanity. I couldn't have been more wrong. People make me crazy.

Recently I have been going through "it" and "it" has been kicking my tookus. The culmination of life events and health problems have rendered me unable to cope. I am the one people come to for advice and encouragement. When I confessed to not being OK I became the pariah. People scattered from me like cockroaches run from the light. I experimented with vulnerability and experienced a failure of biblical proportions. The only thing I lacked was a wife to tell me to curse God and die.

Please don't mistake my post for bitterness or trying to step on someone's guilt glands. I learned some valuable things. First of all it was reinforced for me that no man keeps my space warm for me. I owe no human being rent for the air I breathe. God alone is my benefactor. He is my only need.

The second valuable lesson for me was how to prioritize my time. You see, my friends didn't know what to do for me and/or didn't have time or energy with which to do it. Just like me, they were treading water as fast as they can. Or they knew I would get over myself soon enough and waited for the inevitable and are expecting life to continue as normal. Something's changed though. Just like I didn't shrivel up and die without your kind words and attentiveness you will similarly survive without mine and will more than likely be better off if I hang on to my two cents worth of advice. In exchange for not being there each time you call me and at whatever time you call, I will taking care of my own health and well being and getting some sleep and waiting for God to sort things out. You can still expect the same amount of prayer from me though. That's something that will not change.

Please don't mistake my comments for callous disregard of those in need. I am saying that my not being OK and not being supported by anyone during the process has taught me that I am not lacking for anything. I had this impression from being left by my mother that I lacked some basic nurturing and was a deficit. I don't lack a thing. We're all broken, self-centered and self-absorbed. More of that isn't the answer to what ails me and certainly a contest on who is more scarred isn't helpful.

Here lies the answer to my needs and here is my prayer:

¹⁴For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, ¹⁵from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named,¹⁶that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, ¹⁷ so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love,¹⁸may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, ¹⁹and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

²⁰ Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware. Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers? What happens when luscious blooms are discarded? When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty? Perhaps we'll find out.

rambling rosemarie

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