Almost Perfect

I've worn the hat of teacher this year, and student, and wife, and daughter, and friend. But I have greatly missed the hat of aunt.

The longer I stay with Blake and Tina, the more I fall in love with my nephews, Martin and Eugene.

They are precious, and life is good.

Martin mimicks everything. Mannerisms, simply sayings, body language...he pretty much covers it. He wants to do everything the "big kids" are doing, and sometimes he succeeds, and other times gets severely frustrated at being two feet tall.

Eugene just soaks up loving.

I can write about these wonderful nephews all day long, but let me just leave you with pictures, since they're each worth a thousand words.

Continued Thought

Many of you emailed with great wisdom and love to yesterday's blog.

Thank you.

Time is precious, and it means so much to have your thoughts on this topic.

I'm still processing.

Some of you emailed saying I have a right to be hurt and angry, which makes me think you understand exactly where I'm coming from. You, too, somewhere along the road, have had hurt from the church.

Some of you responded with caution. Thank you. I in no way want my heart to become bitter or hardened because of this, and I also don't want to portray my home church as bitter or hardened. They have laws I don't understand, some I don't agree with, and I'm questioning the purpose of those laws. But I have peace knowing God is in control, and not me. He'll lead and direct so much more gracefully than I, and he'll lead in love when I believe I would probably lead in frustration.

Some of you responded with love. Just when I think I've gotten that practice down, I realize I have so much further to go. Your example reminds me to continue in that mind and heart. Thank you for loving me when I am reeling with hurt and anger and emotion.

Some of you called me out. Thank you for being honest and bold with me. My past hurts should not be directed on this new pastor. He's trying to adjust to a new church and that encounter was probably tough for him, too. Did he handle it perfectly? Nope, but neither did I.

Others of you responded with passion...which makes me think you're my dad. Thank you for being my protector. While you may speak with biting words at times, I think your words are filled with love because of that passion. You don't speak with so many words often, but when you do, I listen. I am more like you than I realize because my passion, too, often clouds my filter.

My heart is resting with the Psalms.

119:145-152 "I call with all my heart; answer me, O LORD, and I will obey your decrees. I call out to you; save me and I will keep your statutes. I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word. My eyes stay open through the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promises. Hear my voice in accordance with your love; preserve my life, O LORD, according to your laws. Those who devise wicked schemes are near, but they are far from your law. Yet you are near, O LORD, and all your commands are true. Long ago I learned from your statutes that your established them to last forever."

For those who continue to seek God's law, I know these peripheral human laws will be corrected.

I really vacillated over whether or not I should have written yesterday's blog. Part of me thinks, yeah, I probably should have waited until my emotion thinned out a bit, but the other part of me is so thankful to each of you for sharing your wisdom, your love, and your passion.

Thanks for walking with me. Now that's the body of Christ.

A Rude Awakening

I try so hard to forgive the wounds from my childhood in a church full of loving people who I think meant well. But sometimes, those wounds resurface, and I'm angry all over again.

As a 15-year-old who just spent her first summer in Jamaica, I came home knowing God had called me into missions, I just didn't know what that meant. Five men came to me after I spoke to my church, telling me I had to be married to do that, and my husband would have to be the missionary.

I was so crushed. I thought God wanted to use me, not just make me a wife.

And so began the stubborn pride in me to be single and prove to everyone I knew that God could use women, single, in the ministry.

God broke down a lot of that pride in me. He placed a calling in my life to be a teacher, then he introduced me to Josh Blain, the man who stole my heart and who I longed to serve alongside. God has used Josh as a beautiful example of what unity and partnership should look like. Josh has given me a glimpse of the true joy of marriage because he walks beside me, he doesn't make me follow. He and I are in ministry together.

I thought I was okay with those wounds. I've spent many years working through them, begging God to take them away. But yesterday, they resurfaced.

Without going into a full-out soap-box, let me just say I hate denominations. People get so wrapped up in a title that they forget the body, and Christ's church is divided.

I was asked to sing at my home church while on my travels, something I enjoy doing and look forward to. The church just got a new pastor, I met him Saturday, and really had a great impression of him.

Sunday morning came, I lugged my guitar to church, and was asked to "step into the office," a sign that should have told me something bad was coming.

Remember, I had a great first-meeting with the new pastor, so when he said, "Our by-laws state that only Baptists can sing at church," I thought he was completely joking.

I burst out laughing, then heard the following statement come out of this new pastor's mouth.

"We can't let just anyone sing. If a Mormon came in and wanted to sing a song, we wouldn't let them."

Wow. And 'denomination' just became a dirty word.

Forget the fact that I am a Christ follower. I didn't realize Wesleyans were grouped with Mormons. Forget the fact that I got saved in that church, and the fact that I grew up there. Forget the fact that I traveled on three missions trips while at that church, and followed God's leading into the ministry.

I was so hurt.

Because I am Wesleyan, I'm not good enough. And all of my childhood insecurities came flooding back.

I looked at my dad's face, and it donned on me. This guy was being serious.

The pastor said, "Are you mad at me?"

I didn't know what to say. A weak "No" slipped out.

"Okay. Good."

He left, and I turned to my dad, and instantly burst into tears.

Rejected by my home church. That one stung.

I tried to sit through the worship, but I could not regain my composure. I hate that one man's words cut me so deeply. I finally wrote my dad a note telling him I was going to walk home, stood up, and walked out of the doors, telling myself I would never go to church there again if it meant more hurt.

My mom walked home with me, and talking through some of that emotion was good. But if I'm being totally honest, I'm still reeling. I am so hurt and angry and disappointed and disgusted.

Denominations divide the body of Christ. People who think their name gets them to heaven or qualifies them for more holiness than others make me so frustrated. I understand that it wasn't the pastor's opinion- he's new and is trying to follow the church constitution, but I'm still hurt by him.

Shouldn't we all be working on the same goal? Shouldn't we all have the same focus? Shouldn't we walk together and love one another with fierceness?

I fail to understand.

In 1 Corinthians 1, Paul is getting onto the church for this very issue. People were following Paul, and Peter, and several other missionaries, and Paul called them on it, saying, "Shouldn't we be followers of Christ?"

Verses 10-13 state it much more eloquently than I am, but that's the gist. Jesus never said, "Be Baptist," or "Be Wesleyan," or "Be Church of Christ." He called both Jew and Gentile to follow him. But people's rules make that simple practice difficult.

And the body takes a beating.

Any wisdom out there? I would certainly welcome it.