Imagine that you have this beautiful vase. It is ornate, large, and has the most gorgeous glaze on the outside- deep complex colors, rich hues, fine detailed patterns. It is your favorite and not just to display, although people always comment on what a excellent example of art it is, but also because it is practical- you can display things in it, it holds water, is actually pretty sturdy. Since this is something that you loved- wouldn't you want to know if internally it was broken? Wouldn't you need to know that it is just a matter of time before the thing crumbles to pieces or more likely slowly leaks water? I don't think you would love it any less if you knew it was compromised; I think you would fix it and until it can be fixed you wouldn't use it in the same, you would treat it more carefully, more appropriately.
***
As a church community, I am sad to say that it becomes very easy to assume that the people around us are simply as they appear. Either perfectly functional and impervious to interior faults, or broken beyond repair and the same way they have always been. One of my goals for this blog was to help dispel the illusion that instagram helps us create. We take pictures, edit them, and post them of times when we are smiling, surrounded by friends, creating beautiful things, being dynamite parents, gifting our spouses; therefore it so easy to assume this is the all-the-time reality of each of our lives. Even though we know our own realities are far more complex, messy, petty, and down right broken. Why is this? We are smart people. We know what happens when you assume something. Yet still we continue, the mother with the pictures of at home crafts must be patient and brilliant all the time. The couple affirming and snuggling must have got the marriage thing down pat. The teenager who post scriptures must be impervious to peer pressure. The boy complaining always must never appreciate his blessings. But this is not so.
But these illusion, these assumptions keep us from seeing the better, deeper truths. It keeps us out and away from each other. In church this is rampant. This place- this church community- should be where we can all be open and honest and free to communicate our brokenness. To bring it from hiding, knowing that hidden brokenness doesn't get healing. When we hide our cracks it is too easy to assume we can continue to hold water, continue to walk around isolated from people who likely are the same.
I think there are two major things are play here: the first being that it is scary as hell to tell the people around you that you aren't as together as you seem. It is takes such courage to say, "I am smiling on camera, but I was yelling a minute ago." or "This marriage thing is hard, and I don't know what I am doing." or "I hope I am not trying my best to be a good parent, because this is going terribly wrong." or "I thought I had this addiction beat, but it keeps whispering my name and I am not sure how much longer I will ignore it." Those are some of the bravest words. They take such power and guts and trust.
And that is the second thing at play. Trust. I am not here to bash church or the church community; these I love. I am here to say I am going to be a part of a change to make this place a safer place for people to show their brokenness and pray like heck that God can use me and transform and heal. There is no other place that is [could be, will be] safer to open ones self up for healing. God's grace is big and powerful and we have all received it. We just forget. We forget that we too are [were/ will be] in great need of his forgiveness. We forget that those people around us who seem perfect have in fact been touched by healing, will be again touched, and might now be touched with pain and hurt and self-induced foolishness. We are all here at the base of the cross. And we are all in need of healing.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Saturday, February 8, 2014
snow many memories
In case you don't live around here or aren't friends with Oregonians on Facebook- here in the Willamette Valley we have been having uncharacteristically wintry snow fall for the past 3 days. Maybe once a year, we get snow and it is usually- from my Alaska grown eyes- a poor representation of snow, but this storm- it is the real deal. Big fat flakes falling, covering everything in the pillow white that my childhood was made of. My parent took Gabe and my nephew Logan sledding this afternoon while David and I clean the house (and by that I mean David) and bake cinnamon rolls (and by that I mean me).
This has made me nostalgic. Quick Bethany fact sheet: I was born and raised in Fairbanks Alaska. I lived in the same house that my dad build about 4 miles out of town for the entirety of that time. In fact, my dad (when he isn't commuting and working from Salem) and sister still live in a version of that same house today. It has greatly evolved- when I was born it was in fact in an entirely different location and about 1/4 of the current size, but they picked it up, put it on a trailer and moved it to its current home at the end of Tekoa Trail where it has been renovated, added on, adapted, and generally evolved.
In Fairbanks, we do winter really well. Coming here to Oregon and experiencing seasons blew my mind. Oh, Thanksgiving is at harvest time and Easter actually is spring! Since Fairbanks is in the interior of Alaska, the temperatures are pretty extreme: moderately hot in the summer and very cold in the winter. Now to be clear, I loved living in Alaska while I was there, but I was not a sport-sy outdoors girl. My dad basically made me and my sisters go cross country skiing, we didn't have a snowmobile, and Fairbanks doesn't have mountains too close for snowboarding or downhill skiing. So when I was there the 9 months of deep snow and cold temperatures didn't necessarily fill me with delight. But it was my reality and all I had ever experienced and therefore it was good. And my parents really made my childhood fun. When people ask me about Alaska and whether I will go back to live, I am unsure- it seems unlikely, but I say, "It was a great place to grow up." When I was a kid we didn't have cable- no channels. We would watch movies every Friday night, but the rest of our time was not taken up with TV at all. So as a kid my sisters and I were forced into books and other creativity. The aforementioned cross country skiing was a favorite of my dads and so we did this pretty regularly. Although despite the occasional forced activity and absence of television, much of my time- especially as a middle school and as teenager was spent on the phone or reading or being with friends or wanting to be with friends. But there was certainly big chunks of my childhood where I was an classic Alaskan girl- out tromping in the snow, building caves, sledding, playing in the snowy sparse woods with our neighbor. And those I remember fondly. The way that moose in the backyard was normal, seeing gorgeous Denali from our driveway regularly, the pride and craziness of going to school always- even at 40 below, the way a hot springs is the best when it is super cold outside, the way it looks gorgeous and epic all the time. Even though come January I was so over the cold and was going cabin stir crazy. Even though the static electricity was horrible and you have to warm up your cars for 20 minutes before you could go anywhere. Even though it got so cold that you couldn't breath and your eyelashes and nose hairs froze right away. I am grateful for that being the place where so many of my memories exist and when I see the snow fall outside my Oregon window, I just love that glimpse.
This has made me nostalgic. Quick Bethany fact sheet: I was born and raised in Fairbanks Alaska. I lived in the same house that my dad build about 4 miles out of town for the entirety of that time. In fact, my dad (when he isn't commuting and working from Salem) and sister still live in a version of that same house today. It has greatly evolved- when I was born it was in fact in an entirely different location and about 1/4 of the current size, but they picked it up, put it on a trailer and moved it to its current home at the end of Tekoa Trail where it has been renovated, added on, adapted, and generally evolved.
In Fairbanks, we do winter really well. Coming here to Oregon and experiencing seasons blew my mind. Oh, Thanksgiving is at harvest time and Easter actually is spring! Since Fairbanks is in the interior of Alaska, the temperatures are pretty extreme: moderately hot in the summer and very cold in the winter. Now to be clear, I loved living in Alaska while I was there, but I was not a sport-sy outdoors girl. My dad basically made me and my sisters go cross country skiing, we didn't have a snowmobile, and Fairbanks doesn't have mountains too close for snowboarding or downhill skiing. So when I was there the 9 months of deep snow and cold temperatures didn't necessarily fill me with delight. But it was my reality and all I had ever experienced and therefore it was good. And my parents really made my childhood fun. When people ask me about Alaska and whether I will go back to live, I am unsure- it seems unlikely, but I say, "It was a great place to grow up." When I was a kid we didn't have cable- no channels. We would watch movies every Friday night, but the rest of our time was not taken up with TV at all. So as a kid my sisters and I were forced into books and other creativity. The aforementioned cross country skiing was a favorite of my dads and so we did this pretty regularly. Although despite the occasional forced activity and absence of television, much of my time- especially as a middle school and as teenager was spent on the phone or reading or being with friends or wanting to be with friends. But there was certainly big chunks of my childhood where I was an classic Alaskan girl- out tromping in the snow, building caves, sledding, playing in the snowy sparse woods with our neighbor. And those I remember fondly. The way that moose in the backyard was normal, seeing gorgeous Denali from our driveway regularly, the pride and craziness of going to school always- even at 40 below, the way a hot springs is the best when it is super cold outside, the way it looks gorgeous and epic all the time. Even though come January I was so over the cold and was going cabin stir crazy. Even though the static electricity was horrible and you have to warm up your cars for 20 minutes before you could go anywhere. Even though it got so cold that you couldn't breath and your eyelashes and nose hairs froze right away. I am grateful for that being the place where so many of my memories exist and when I see the snow fall outside my Oregon window, I just love that glimpse.
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