crux

23 february 2005

Wednesday night was our second meeting of the small group from church now called "Crux". Aaron and Angie have a rather out-there idea for this group; going out and being with people, and going out and serving people. Radical love.

The group right now is comprised solely of young people, except for me. Jonathan, Ethan, Aaron and Angie - all young people who grew up in the church. And me - the former wild hippie chick. It's strange to be the elder of this group and know that you've lived more on the edge, more on the seedy side of life then these younger ones. But I guess that makes me a good candidate for going out there on the streets. I've seen what habitual alcohol consumption does, and tasted my more-than-fair share of drugs, and sold my soul without even knowing I'd agreed to a transaction. I also lived and believed wholeheartedly in the idealism of the peace movement when I was a teenager. No wonder I have embraced a savior who was radical and called us to love one another.

Love One Another. That's where the name "crux" for our small group comes from. Because this small group has a specific focus on mission work, I thought it needed its own identity. Jesus' core commandment was to love one another. And the core, the primary focus, the center of something, is the crux of something. And the "x" in crux is a cross. And then I took the X and elevated it above the U. The U became in my mind the empty vessel of us, the longing of our spirit to be filled, and the X above it symbols the answer to that longing and emptiness. It is also to me a symbol of the sacrament of communion, and Christ's sacrifice upon the cross. And besides all of that, it is still decidedly an unChristian looking logo, which was also an intent. I'd rather have people recognize us as followers of Christ by our actions then by a symbol on our shirts. If we ever have shirts.

I miss half of the first meeting when everyone went out and rode the bus around town. A good thing for those of us with cars to do. Last night we studied scripture about loving people, and also discussed how God showed love to Adam and Eve even after they had betrayed him with the apple thing. There is an awful lot of grace shown there in a passage which at first glance looks full of anger. After all God could have just obliterated his creation. Started over again. Maybe created people that wouldn't have been so disobedient.

Then we talked about what we could do next week to just go out and love people. I mentioned that I sent a letter to our local mosque after September 11 apologizing for any mistreatment the people there may have suffered at the hands of Christians. There were incidents of that - one Arab-American closed his gas station down entirely after suffering several damaging attacks on his building. Another person there just for the evening mentioned that he has a web site as a go-between for landlords and potential renters. Aaron came up with the idea that maybe we should go and clean bathrooms for college students. So that is what is on our agenda right now. Scrubbing toilets and writing letters of apology to those who may have been offended in any way by Christians, and offering to be of service.

Yes, it's a different kind of small group, and my heart tells me that it's exactly where I should be. Just out there loving radically in Christ's name.

Nightmare

I just woke up from a bad dream. I have such a pounding headache now. Carman kept needing to be rescued, including pulling him up on a moving train when he lost his footing. I wonder if it's because I'm a single parent that I have so many dreams of rescuing or looking out for others?

One time recently I was praying in my dream, and I knew God was around. He wasn't in this dream, when Carman was about to be crushed by a train. But two of my friends were there, who both jumped in to help me. Both of them are Atheists.

Recently a Christian friend of mine let me down, and one of these Atheist friends was very good to me. Maybe I trust that my Atheist friend would be there for me in dire straits, but not the Christ follower. At its best that is ironic, at its worst it is sad indeed.

Winter

I catch glimpses of the outside world through the windows at work.

White snow on grey branches, white sky with silvered clouds. There comes a time when the beauty of this winter world's purity is lost in me, and only the oppressive lack of life and color remains. I have to grasp on to glimpses of sunshine and blue skies, drink in the grace of light on a day that aches with cold.

My spirit struggles in the bleakness of these months, and all I can do is keep exercising my soul to see all the blessings in the quiet time of winter.

God & Hats

It doesn't really seem as though God would have anything to do with me buying a hat today. (Two hats actually. One a grey-green with these lovely flowers...but I digress.)

It was a nothing-degree day outside but the sun was brilliant. Not being the recipients of much sunshine here in Kalamazoo, that alone is note-worthy. Some women may have considered it just a fun thing to do - meeting friends, buying lovely hats, having coffee together on a Saturday morning. But I knew it was something exquisite and precious.

Sharing life with friends. Laughing at ridiculous looking chapeaus perched on our heads. Scones and coffee. God has so blessed me. I used to stay too hidden away from everyone, alone all weekend, working too much, isolating myself. And so now each time I live in relationship with others I am filled with such joy and a profound sense of what a gift it all is.

People I love. People who love me. How could I not see God in that?

Dreaming

There was a man in my dream last night. I was going to do some work for his new business and went to his shop to visit him. He was someone I'd known quite awhile, and we stood there talking and then he leaned over and kissed me. Oh no, he didn't just kiss me. He put his arms around me first, slowly and tenderly, and then kissed me, slowly and tenderly. It was the most blissful feeling. I think I dreamt that because of a hug.

Last night when I went to church, I ran into Ron in the sanctuary, as the band was getting ready to practice, and he came up and gave me such an enthusiastic hug that it made me laugh and felt so good. As I drove home I thought about the fact that this married man is so generous with his hugs, and I don't know if he realizes what a blessing that is to single women. I get hugs from my son, and my girlfriends, and occasionally others, but it's also nice to have hugs from men that I know. When you've been divorced for a decade, and singlehood looks like it may remain your way of life, hugs from the opposite sex are not a part of your everyday experience. And when you're a woman, there's something comforting about a man's hug - it's strength I suppose. Younger people probably don't realize that even we older men and women miss that simple human connection with the opposite gender. I don't even realize it most of the time. Until a man I know and like spontaneously reminds me of that basic thing - that I am human and I need not only God's arms around me but occasionally the arms of another human being.

What Jordyne said

I was talking to our secretary Rebecca at work this afternoon and she was telling me how she's been having a discussion with her pastor about witnessing, and obviously her four-year-old daughter Jordyne had been listening as well.

When Rebecca took Jordyne to church last Sunday she gave her two Junior Mints to eat while sitting in the pew. A friend of theirs was sitting behind them. He's a man who always has a treat for Jordyne whenever he sees her, but this time he asked Jordyne if he could have one of her mints. Rebecca wasn't sure Jordyne was going to be keen on sharing when she only had two of them, but she immediately put one in their friend's outstretched hand. Then Jordyne turned to her mother and said, "I was witnessing".

Rebecca was trying to figure out exactly what her daughter meant and asked her after church, "How were you witnessing when you gave your mint away?"

And Jordyne said, "He was hungry and I fed him."

Thanksgiving

I was standing outside the door of my sister's cottage Thanksgiving afternoon while the sunlight danced over the waves on the lake and made the snow on the ground sparkle like diamonds. I stood watching my brother Bill as he kept an eye on the turkey deep frying, and stood talking with our sister Sue, who is the most effervescent of the three of us. I felt filled with love as I stood watching them. Here we were, Bill and I at 50, Sue three years younger, now the official adults of the family with both our parents gone. I lit a cigarette and walked over to where they stood.

"You know what we all have in common?" I said.

"Not much," Sue replied a bit flippantly. "We are so different."

"Yeah," I said, "That's true. But what I see is that even though Mom and Dad are both gone now, we have such a strong loyalty to each other as family."

Bill agreed right away, and Sue did too. I've seen other families who don't stay in touch or stand up for each other that much. Despite our different personalities, the three of us are intensely loyal to our familial bond. It's just a given that we will always be there for each other.

Here stood my very fashionable, financially secure, soccer mom, new-age sister with her plethora of Sylvia Browne books, and the hodgepodge of beliefs she teaches her girls of Christianity, mixed with spirit guides and reincarnation. And there was my handsome, educated, successful businessman brother with his growing devotion to Buddhism, though still harboring a desire for a Christian church home, but not enough to leave his wife on Sunday mornings and venture out alone for one. And then me. The artsy, twice-divorced sibling, eking out a living as a designer, who lives much more modestly than either of them in a small mobile home, and is devoted to being a Christ follower and attending an emergent style church.

The other people at Thanksgiving dinner included my youngest son, who's also a Christian. My sister's girls with their new age spirituality blend, my brother's daughter who "doesn't do church", and my brother's teenage son who declared recently he doesn't believe in God. My friend/companion Noble who, when life was really hard, wanted to go to church, but now that life is better he tells me he doesn't believe in organized religion. My first husband was there too. He would profess to being a Christian, but I don't think he has any desire to talk of it or think about it too much. I think his mother crammed too much scripture into him when he was growing up, and he's never had a desire for much of it since. I don't think my sister's husband or my brother's wife are very much into any spiritual life. I have a feeling it just doesn't interest them too much. But for some reason my siblings and I, despite the lack of faith growing up, are all very spiritual people. But we walk down different roads. I can relate to Paul venturing to Greece and talking with all those Gentiles. My family is my Athens.

But I don't really talk about Christ with them much, except to say how happy and filled with joy I am at my church. I hope one day I'll feel so knowledgeable and filled with His presence that I can communicate more of the stories of this Jesus of Nazareth, because I don't think they really know his story and His words, and if they did it may make a huge difference.

Or maybe it wouldn't. But what I do know is that Christ said to get out there and love people. On a snowy Thanksgiving filled with sunshine, I found that so easy to do. We may be going down different spiritual paths, my siblings and I, but we talk and laugh and are totally devoted to each other. We love each other fiercely. And that, I know without a doubt, is a God thing.