Repentance redefined: Giving up exhaustion and opening to change

Day 4: Repentance redefined: Giving up exhaustion and opening to change

“exhaustion was not fertile soil for growth and change”

We had been meeting for about two years when my directee said to me: “You know the most helpful thing you’ve said to me since we’ve been meeting is

“God is not in favor of exhaustion.””

As a woman who struggles with over-work, conversation about balance and spiritual practice were a large part of our conversations together.  But it wasn’t until we began to talk about the theology behind  exhaustion that change began to happen. What does chronic exhaustion say about what I believe about God?

Many of us have heard it time and time again:  “You have to lose your life to save it.”

Jesus said that or something similar repeatedly in Scripture.  I grew up hearing that those words meant that I was to work until I could work no more, sacrifice until I was depleted, and then I would be deemed as faithful and transformed by that exhaustion.

But in my life, that view made less and less sense. I found that it just wasn’t working.  I was just exhausted.  And exhaustion was not fertile soil for growth, change, or anything that looked like love, joy, or peace.

And then I read three words that came just before one of those statements by Jesus:

Remember Lot’s wife.

Remember Lot’s wife! Whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it.

When I went back to Lot’s wife’s story , what I saw was a woman who died because she was afraid to change. She was called to flee from the city to the mountains, told by angels no less, and turned back to her old life instead.

Change is hard. Really hard. Even good, freeing, soul-satisfying wonderful change is hard.

Even change that leaves behind exhaustion is a challenge.

 Or change that reconnects us to family.

 Or change that lets us shine in our giftedness.

If you’ve followed this blog this lent, my hope is that you have experienced that non-traditional upside down redefined repentance is bringing light and joy and freedom to your soul…. that freedom to connect in messiness, to speak and to stand tall is producing the fruit of God’s spirit.  Counter-intuitively, at the same time, I trust that it has been hard. Actually even more difficult than if I had asked you to give up chocolate or facebook or a lot of your hard-earned money.

As women, an invitation to more sacrifice can deepen our ruts of caring for others and is often not helpful.

 Self-care challenges those ruts, and sometimes even our theology.

As Brother Vryhof writes in today’s version of Brother Give Us a Word,

 We may be afraid to be totally and unconditionally loved by God. What would it mean for us to begin to see ourselves – and to live – as beloved children of God? What image of myself might I have to let go of in order to embrace this new identity?

– Br. David Vryhof
, Society of Saint John the Evangelist

Letting go of old beliefs and patterns is hard, even if those old patterns are destructive forces in our lives.

How would your life change if you really believed that God is not in favor of exhaustion?

One of the changes I am opening to presently is the delight of being welcomed into our daughter, son-in-law and grand-daughter’s life. My parents and I always struggled to connect. I am sure it was a co-created reality that we never managed to get past.  There was no estrangement; simply little connection. So, though I worked and hoped that that same distance would not be true with my own children, a part of me fell into that rut and never expected anything different.

But it is different.  In fact, we are going to our daughter’s house this evening to witness Georgia eating sweet potatoes for the first time. If recent history is a predictor of the future, it will be wonderfully enthusiastic, impossibly messy, great fun. To say “yes” to the invitation to go and make room in my life for such joy is what it means right now for me to lose my life (the distance I experienced and expected) to save it (to be transformed by the love of God in the form of a 6 month old and sweet potatoes.)

Who knew repentance could be such fun?… I promise I will share the pictures!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Repentance redefined: standing tall

” Not one more day did Jesus want this woman to live bent over.”

As I was completing work on my third book, My Own Worst Enemy,  I encountered the story of the woman bent over.

Listening once more to this Jesus-initiated, compassion-driven, Sabbath day healing of a woman bent over for 18 years, I was suddenly overwhelmed with all the ways that we as women may live bent over:

  • We tend to the needs of others while neglecting our own.
  • We exist in life as a “living apology,” seeking to earn worth through service, never quite hearing “well done.”
  • We diminish our gifts, wisdom, and brilliance.
  • We apologize for our voice or perspective, even if it’s helpful.
  • We feel selfish when we wisely choose self-care.
  • We relegate our desires to the “if I have time or extra resources” status…. and rarely “find” the time or resources.
  • We accept being “second class citizens” at church and in the world

Standing tall is not about elevating our ego, but about living into the freedom and dignity of our personhood.

Can we begin to imagine a world in which women stand tall?

Our inclination to bend seems to be written deeply within us.  It is recognized across many faith traditions. Integral theory proponent and author Ken Wilber has said that men need to bow to Buddha a thousand times a day and women need to stand up just as many times. For me, right now that looks like asking family, retreat centers, and others to accommodate some fairly burdensome dietary limitations.  (I had no idea how many foods contain night shade vegetables, MSG or MSG-like natural flavorings!) Why is it so hard to ask for myself when I would happily do for someone else?  I think it’s because somewhere inside there’s still a part of me living as a bent over woman.

We see many women in Scripture learn to stand tall:

Miriam

Hannah

Esther

 Jairus’ daughter

The women who followed him and watched at the cross

The woman caught in adultery

The woman who anointed Jesus

Jesus thought a woman’s freedom to stand tall was so important that he broke the law and healed this woman on the Sabbath. I hear in his actions a holy impatience: Not one more day did Jesus want this woman to live bent over.

Can we hear that healing and freeing passion now?  For us? For you and me?

On our pilgrimage to Germany last fall, I was struck by both the massive trees on the hill where the ruins of St. Hildegard’s monastery remain as well as several statues of St. Hildegard standing tall. In her life, she stood up against abbots, bishops, and royalty. She spoke up, at first hesitantly, later boldly about the visions God had given her, visions that reflected a more feminine spirituality that valued the earth and wholeness and welcomed all.

Will we dare to feel Jesus’ healing, freeing touch every time we are tempted to

make ourselves small?

apologize for existing or speaking?

diminish our accomplishments or contributions?

excuse those who exclude, silence, or diminish us?

forget our own needs or desires?

 It is not okay with Jesus for us to live bent over.

Did you hear that?

Living bent over is not an acceptable option to Jesus.

Repent, oh, woman. Stand tall. Stand tall.

How are you tempted to live bent over? What will it look like for you to stand tall today?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Repentance redefined: silent no more

Day 2:            “The pattern of Hannah’s spiritual growth echoes that of many, many other women in Scripture:

growth toward a larger sense of voice and personhood rather than silence.”

I grew up in a faith tradition that believed women were to be seen and not heard in the church and, for most part, at home, too. Based on a few verses from the Epistles, an entire gender, including myself, was silenced.

Yet new questions rose within me as I began to listen to the collective stories of women in Scripture. Only Scripture could unlock my cage and free my voice. I saw a completely different pattern. My first clue was Hannah’s story.

At first Hannah was silenced by the pain of her infertility, the open abuse she suffered from her fellow wife, Peninah, and even the subtle shaming of her desire for a son by her loving-but-unwise husband Elkanah.  But the story does not end there.

Hannah stood.

And in standing, she began her journey toward growth and voice.

Her next step was an unspoken prayer to God that reclaimed her desire for a son as a holy one and voiced a heart-broken request to be remembered by God. (I’ve been thinking lately that I need some lessons from Hannah on moaning and lamenting.)

Next, Hannah stood up to Eli the priest when he accused her of being drunk. “Not so, my Lord.” A woman… saying “no” to a priest… don’t miss the import of this!

Then Hannah named herself with “I am” and “I am not” statements, again owning her pain and desire.

After receiving Eli’s blessing (no hard feelings),

Hannah went her way.

She ate something, nourished herself.

Her face was no longer downcast.

Eventually, she had a son.

When her husband went to the temple, she did not go. She had a different plan that she boldly spoke and lived.

When she brought the boy to the temple, she left him there.

In the midst of the loss of her son’s presence, she sang a great song of praise to God.

“My heart rejoices in the Lord;
in the Lord my horn is lifted high.
My mouth boasts over my enemies,
for I delight in your deliverance.”

What a voice! What a woman! What repentance… silent no more.

The pattern of Hannah’s spiritual growth echoes that of many, many other women in Scripture: growth toward a larger sense of voice and personhood rather than silence.

Once more, Hannah has inspired me to new growth.  She has lived the wisdom I seek: growth through daring to speak. She is my inspiration to attempt to write about my passion each day this lent. My tools are different than hers were, but we are sisters nonetheless.

May we as women dare to repent, to come to voice today. The world, the church, and our families need our presence, our voices, our love, and our wisdom.

What will you speak today?

 

 

A Holy Rant

Why is it that most Christians assume that spirituality is a unisex reality?

Why have I, in 55 years of church attendance, never heard a sermon on gender differences in spirituality and only one that even acknowledged it as real (thanks Bob C.)?

Why is it that in a culture where we talk more and more about gender difference in how we shop and have heart attacks and think, we neglect to talk about how we experience God differently?

Why is there not a course in gender different spirituality in each and every seminary? Don’t clergy need to know about this, talk about this, wrestle with this?

Why is it that when women notice how different their experience of God is than the men they know, they think they are “wrong” or that the difference is unimportant?

Why is it that many women who have continued to grow spiritually have left the church and the church has been okay with that loss? In fact, tragically, many times the church has  said “good riddance” because the women used their visions and voices to challenge the status quo.

Why is it that we as women are generally the only ones apologizing for the complications created by gender difference? Why do we often see our perspectives as secondary?

Why is it okay with any of us to limit the authentic voice of anyone, often through hierarchy or through an assumption of a unisex spirituality?

Why is it that many men feel they know more about the stories of women in Scripture than do the women in their lives?  And why do many women think the same thing?

Why have we let the fear of boxing people into categories and narrow ways of being  stop the conversation completely? Using this conversation about gender difference to limit individuality is a real and dangerous possibility.  Caution is important.  At the same time, I believe we can name these dynamics in ways that free us and do not bind us.

So, what do you care about enough to dare a rant?

 

Focusing Self-compassion on Limitations

I admit it: I’ve not bought a single Christmas gift yet. My husband, God bless him, has ordered a few things.  My guess is that Amazon is going to become my best friend over these next few weeks. My work schedule has been full as well as continuing to make doctor and physical therapy appointments and block off several whole days for injections. Oh, and my husband had some minor surgery this month, too.

There are only 15 more days until Christmas (all of them shopping days online!)

As I face both that deadline and my calendar, the core question for me is

 “How will I relate to my limitation?”

Will I slam myself for my inefficiency?

Will I extend compassion to my “to do” list?

Will I feel shame over the fact that my desk is currently also piled a foot high with papers? (okay, maybe 6 inches, but it’s a big desk) Or do I feel compassion and actually (gasp) give thanks for all the wonderful opportunities I have had this fall that have occupied my life and energy and left me with a full desk?

When I think of women who handled limitations well, my mind goes to Naomi and Ruth.

The limitations they faced were different than mine:

The ache of grief

Poverty

Cultural rejection as women and, for Ruth, as a Moabite

It is an interesting thing about human limitations: we connect, even across centuries, around them as we relate to the feelings that our inadequacies generate, regardless of the particulars or extremity of our limitations.

In that sense, maybe we aren’t so different…

I have not suffered the death of a husband and son; yet I have certainly ached over the limitations that spring from my own chronic pain.

I have never gone hungry and scavenged for food; yet like many middle-class Americans, I have felt inadequate, especially this time of year, as I am often aware of money as a limited resource.

I have never known the overwhelming limitations that Naomi and Ruth’s feminine souls placed on them religiously, culturally, and economically; but I have known the pain of having my thoughts dismissed and my voice not heard because I happen to be a woman.

As I look as the lives of my fore-mothers, I see enormous and active faith in the face of their limitations:

In the ache of grief, Naomi just kept moving, putting one foot in front of another, seeking God as she moved back to her homeland.  She was honest about her bitterness when she arrived: she both exercised her faith and owned her limitations, even her emotional ones.

In the face of poverty, Ruth did the same; she kept going.  Because God is God, she “just so happened” to glean in Boaz’ field…. and eventually became his bride. Her limitation turned to miraculous provision when her faith met the grace of God.

In the midst of severe limitations imposed by a cultural and religious context that separated the “ins” and the “outs” by heritage, God “broke” all God’s own rules when, through the compassion of the levirate provision  of Jewish law, the Moabite Ruth married Boaz and eventually became the grandmother of King David.  She is also one of four women mentioned in Jesus’ genealogy.

In the face of God’s grace, faith, and compassion, who are we to fear, rebuke, or judge our own limitations?   How about some self-compassion instead?

What limitation will you consider meeting with self-compassion instead of rejection, contempt, and judgment this year?

A love letter to my body

It seems I am forever just behind the culture curve… just outside the conversation.  But when this invitation from SheLoves and Megan Gahan came across my field of vision yesterday, through this blog of fellow Patheos blogger Enuma Okoro, I knew I wanted to attempt to include it here because it’s such a part of my current life struggle/growing edge.

A love letter to my body

Clearly, I need to begin with an apology.

I have not loved you well.

I have treated you like a machine

Rather than honored you

As the sacred space that you are.

I apologize.

Please, forgive me.

I have abandoned you in your time of need and of pain.

No, not completely.

But significantly.

I have held other’s pain while refusing yours.

I apologize.

Please, forgive me.

I have not listened to your wisdom,

Tending instead the voices of intellect or impulse or others.

I am listening now.

I celebrate your beauty and complexity.

I celebrate your wonderfully woven goodness and interconnectedness.

I celebrate your softness and resilience.

I celebrate the whole of you and how graciously and tenderly you hostess my soul.

I love you, my body.

And I commit to live into that love in new ways.

I will listen to you.

I will live within your limits as the very wisdom of God.

I will hold your pain with the largeness of my soul and pray for your healing.

May you find new health and strength and wholeness in my love.

May my love find the same in you.

In celebration of all women from Song of Solomon:

You’re so beautiful, my darling, so beautiful, and your dove eyes are veiled By your hair as it flows and shimmers, like a flock of goats in the distance streaming down a hillside in the sunshine. Your smile is generous and full— expressive and strong and clean. Your lips are jewel red, your mouth elegant and inviting, your veiled cheeks soft and radiant. The smooth, lithe lines of your neck command notice—all heads turn in awe and admiration! Your breasts are like fawns, twins of a gazelle, grazing among the first spring flowers.
6-7 The sweet, fragrant curves of your body, the soft, spiced contours of your flesh Invite me, and I come. I stay until dawn breathes its light and night slips away. You’re beautiful from head to toe, my dear love, beautiful beyond compare, absolutely flawless.
8-15 Come with me from Lebanon, my bride. Leave Lebanon behind, and come. Leave your high mountain hideaway. Abandon your wilderness seclusion, Where you keep company with lions and panthers guard your safety. You’ve captured my heart, dear friend. You looked at me, and I fell in love. One look my way and I was hopelessly in love! How beautiful your love, dear, dear friend— far more pleasing than a fine, rare wine, your fragrance more exotic than select spices. The kisses of your lips are honey, my love, every syllable you speak a delicacy to savor. Your clothes smell like the wild outdoors, the ozone scent of high mountains. Dear lover and friend, you’re a secret garden, a private and pure fountain. Body and soul, you are paradise, a whole orchard of succulent fruits— Ripe apricots and peaches, oranges and pears; Nut trees and cinnamon, and all scented woods; Mint and lavender, and all herbs aromatic; A garden fountain, sparkling and splashing, fed by spring waters from the Lebanon mountains.

I invite you to join the healing stream and write a love letter to your own body, too…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Subtle shaming

“He subtly shamed her deeply held desire for a child even as he sought to elevate the power of his love in her life. “

When I read the stories of women in Scripture, I often listen to my internal responses as a way of listening to the story.  For example, in Hannah’s story (1 Samuel 1), I would always cringe when I read Elkanah’s response to Hannah’s weeping.  So, a few years ago, I stopped and listened there for a while, trying to unpack the very complex and swirling relational dynamics as best I could or at least understand what was causing me to flinch. I  called it subtle shaming. That naming was helpful to several women at the retreat I did last weekend.  See how it strikes you.

“Subtle shaming

1:8 Elkanah her husband would say to her, “Hannah, why are you weeping?  Why don’t you eat?  Why are you downhearted?  Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?”

It is hard to imagine that Elkanah did not know why she was weeping, refusing to eat, and downhearted. He saw her pain, undoubtedly felt it alongside her. He was not really seeking information about the state of her soul. So, what was he trying to say?

Imagine for a moment what it must have felt like to be on the receiving end of these words.  The logic seems sane, the reasoning sound: “Why keep torturing yourself wanting something you can never have?  Why not simply decide to be content with what you have?”  Hard reasoning to counter, especially in a moment of conversation with a man who loves you and wants your pain (and his) to stop.

Look again at Elkanah’s questions.  What else was communicated?  Hannah’s well-meaning husband was seeking to diminish or dismiss Hannah’s pain by putting it on a scale of his own creation: weighing her desire for a child against the goodness of his love for her.  He subtly shamed her deeply held desire for a child even as he sought to elevate the power of his love in her life.  He assumed his masculine perspective could resolve her feminine soul’s anguish.  He did not understand that hearts and desires have little regard for logic or for scales.

How could Hannah possibly respond?  Should she deny her pain and desire?  Or tell him his love was not enough?  In his lack of wisdom, Elkanah once again accomplished the opposite of what he intended: rather than offering true comfort to his wife, his subtle shaming let her know that her pain was no longer welcome in relationship with him.

Subtly shaming messages like these are a part of all of our lives.  Consider the overweight woman struggling to remain on a diet whose friends grow weary of her pain and struggle and say to her, “Oh, honey, why bother?  We like you chunky and no one else matters, right?”  Or the daughter who is thrilled to find a pair of fancy pink sandals just right for the prom whose mother says, “Oh, no, dear, you don’t want those. You already have those other beautiful shoes at home, remember?”  Or the woman who chooses to go back to work whose husband says, “Isn’t what I provide enough?  I’d kill to not have to go to work every day.”  All are seemingly supportive messages that subtly shame a vulnerably expressed desire.

As women, we are often uniquely susceptible to this kind of less than noble persuasion.  We too easily doubt the goodness of our feminine desires, especially in the face of seeming support and convincing logic, simply because they are connected so deeply with our hearts and emotions.  The simple fact that these kinds of painful dynamics women face are written within these ancient stories can be very healing.  God knows our pain and cares about the ways we hurt and struggle.”                    Excerpt from The Feminine Soul

 

Uni-sex spirituality?

“Though the church may have missed noticing gender different spirituality, God had not missed writing it into that ancient sacred book.”

Many of us in the Christian world grow up with an assumption of a unisex spirituality. Though we readily admit that men and women are different biologically and psychologically, we often stop there in our thinking.  In 54 years in church, I’ve never heard a sermon on gender different spirituality.

If we do think further, sometimes we realize that the forms we have been taught as unisex have a distinctively masculine feel, understandably so given the disproportionate influence of the masculine voice on our faith for many centuries. So, what’s a woman to do?  Where can we find models for our feminine spiritual growth?

The following except from The Feminine Soul speaks of a time when I began to ask those questions and found myself looking beyond the church at first for answers:

“I began to consciously explore the world of feminine spirituality, both within the church and without.  I resonated with books on popular spirituality and feminism.  They validated and fostered my new growth.  The growth paradigms I learned seemed more effective for me than those I had heard in the church.   I drank in seminars and programming focused on empowering women.  I joined women’s groups.  I pursued experiences that fostered my feminine spirituality.  All these resources affirmed my uniqueness as a woman.   There was a whole movement out there that seemed to know and understand me.  Though at times I hesitated to admit it even to myself, this new path was definitely producing the fruit of God’s Spirit in my life: love, joy, peace, patience, faithfulness, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control.

This world also gave me new eyes to see even more in the stories of women in Scripture.  I was continually surprised at how much of the feminine wisdom I had found outside the church could easily be seen in these stories recorded centuries ago!  Though the church may have missed noticing gender different spirituality, God had not missed writing it into that ancient sacred book. “

“You will learn to eat new food

and find refuge in new places.”

Passover Remembered by Alla Renee Bozarth

As the poet says of the Passover journey, during that season of change, I had to learn to “eat new food,” to nourish my soul from a broader range of resources. I also had to “find refuge in new places.” My hope and prayer is that this space will become a conversation that will nourish the feminine soul within us all.

Do you believe in uni-sex spirituality?  Have you thought much about gender difference? What has your soul journey looked like? Where have you found soul food lately?  What is bringing you more love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control?