Category: Prayer

Truth: Beloved

by ShethChristianity / Life / Loneliness / Prayer / Truth TuesdayLeave a Comment on Truth: Beloved

“She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else.

“The caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

“This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I-I hardly know, sir, just at present – at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”[1]

 

 

“Who are you?” A question posed by the hookah-smoking Caterpillar to Alice, a girl lost in a topsy-turvy world who struggles to find an answer to the question. Her response to the Caterpillar – that she knew who she was – demands explanation, but all she can say is, “I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir…because I’m not myself, you see.”[2]

As the COVID-19 pandemic took hold of the world in the late spring of 2020 I was living into my Christian vocation and working to fulfill all that I believed I was called to be in this world. In the span of three months I had graduated from seminary, married my partner, moved to a new state and started my career as the pastor of a small, rural church. I had defined the essential characteristics of what was most important to me: degree-holding, small-town-living, left-of-center husband, preacher, writer, and pastor.

Over the past year-and-a-half I’ve struggled with maintaining most of these characteristics because of the loneliness of the pandemic, because I was the new kid on the block, because I couldn’t find support, because a thriving marriage is hard work. Mostly, though, I’ve struggled with preserving these characteristics because they’re not entirely preservable: they shift and change, ebb and flow. And now, with most of these characteristics in shambles (my marriage is good, though!), I’m am standing in Alice’s shoes, finding difficulty in explaining myself because I, too, am not myself anymore.

I’ve spent the past month moving our belongings and setting up our apartment. I’ve been cooking and cleaning, tending to my partner’s needs and wants. I’ve been doing a lot of reading and reflecting on my life over the course of the pandemic, seeking to shed some burdens and tend to some wounds. I’ve been mourning the loss of all these characteristics that I have leaned on, trusted, and felt comfortable being. All these things have been parts of who I was and what I did but, as much as I trusted them to be, they were never essential to my innermost being, to the createdness of who I am. Now I, like Alice, am standing in a topsy-turvy world faced with the ‘who are you’ question and my response is absolutely similar to hers: I hardly know who I am.

Truthfully, the Caterpillar question has loomed over my head for most of my life, one that I have returned to year after year. Notebooks have been filled with my own words as I have tried to spell out who I am. Books and psychology journals have been read and digested as I’ve sought the right words to define who I am. Therapists have spent countless hours guiding me on my quest to understand who I am. In the end, though, I hardly know much more than when I started because at the end of reading all those books and writing in all those journals and attending all those therapy sessions I always come up with the same definition of who I am: beloved.

 

Beloved. It’s one of those words we know, but we don’t really know. Etymologically it’s a compound-like-verb of be+loved. Love, we know, is “a feeling of strong or constant affection for a person”[3] – here it would be like the love between a parent and child, between siblings, between close friends. The prefix be- is and Old English element meaning “about, around, on all sides”[4]; beloved means ‘to be surrounded by love and constant affection’. Encircled by love. Loved on all sides. No matter where one goes, as one who is beloved you cannot get away from the love. No matter what one does, as one who is beloved you cannot out-do the love.

My Creator’s love is a beloved-love. No matter what I do, no matter what I don’t do…no matter where I am or how I live, my Creator’s love never abandons me, never leaves me, never stops surrounding me on all sides. I am beloved by God. That’s who I am. My belovedness is the core of my existence, the reason for my living and being and doing. Without it I am not – I am nothing. Beloved is who I am and honestly, beloved is all that I am.

Despite my knowing that I am God’s beloved I struggle with accepting it. I struggle with trusting it. I struggle with living it. The books and journals and therapy sessions have all been a constant attempt to discover something more than my belovedness because it seems too simple. All of who I am is narrowed down to being beloved by God? Absurd. Preposterous. Unimaginable. Which is why I have continuously been seeking more. There has to be more, right?

In the absurdity and unimaginable is where we try to do and be so much more. We try to fill in self-perceived holes because being God’s beloved can hardly be enough. We seek money and fame, glory and prestige because to the world around us that is enough…that is who we are. We seek careers and promotions, job titles and jobs because that is enough…that is who we are. We plant our being in partnership, parenthood, friendship, and career because to the world that is who we are. To the world, being the beloved of God and resting in that belovedness is simply not enough.

But it is enough. Being God’s beloved is enough; in fact, it’s all there is. At the very core of who I am is my belovedness, is my being surrounded by the love of my Creator God. The very essence of who I am is God’s beloved. The reason for my living is because I’m God’s beloved. I love my partner and my parents, my siblings and my friends because I am God’s beloved and I express my love out of my belovedness.

And every good and pleasant and pleasing thing I do in my life is an expression of my belovedness. I seek my neighbor’s well-being – their welfare – because they, too, are God’s beloved. I care for all of creation because it, too, is God’s beloved. I seek the end of death in all forms because life is God’s beloved. I pursue mercy and justice for the oppressed and imprisoned because they are God’s beloved. I work to shelter those experiencing homelessness, to feed those experiencing foodlessness, to give drink to all who are thirsty because they are all God’s beloved. Alice and the Caterpillar, me and you and them – we are all surrounded by the love and affection of God – we are God’s beloved.

I’m living in a topsy-turvy world right now where nearly every worldly definition of who I am has been stripped away (again, marriage a-ok). I don’t know what I’m to do next, where I’m to live next, how I’m supposed to live out my vocation. I’m scared and worried, depressed and medicated. I’m looking at myself, questioning: “Who are you?”

Right now I don’t know much more than this:

Emmanuel, you love me.
I am your beloved.

And that is enough.
That is enough.
That is more than enough.

much love. sheth.

—–

[1] Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (New York: Books of Wonder, 1992), 57-60.
[2] Ibid, 60.
[3] Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, s.v. “love,” accessed February 8, 2022, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/love
[4] Online Etymology Dictionary, s.v. “beloved” accessed February 8, 2022, https://www.etymonline.com/word/beloved

Truth: Heart, Pt. 2.

by ShethChristianity / Life / Prayer / Seminary / Truth Tuesday2 Comments on Truth: Heart, Pt. 2.

A while back I had to have a few tests done for my heart (I wrote about my heart stuff here).  The first test was a treadmill stress test which showed an ‘abnormality’ and necessitated a second, more complete test (which should have been the starting place, but the healthcare system is broken and out to make money blah blah blah). 

This second test was called a CTA scan – a technicians injected me with dye and then they took very detailed pictures of my heart as it was functioning and working.  After the test I was discharged from the hospital and sent home to wait for the results, which came back a few weeks ago.  It turns out that I have a ‘grossly normal’ heart, meaning there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with it at all – it’s ‘right as rain’ as they say.  I’m fine!

And honestly, I was slightly disappointed.
Disappointed that there were no abnormalities…
Disappointed that there was nothing wrong with my heart…
Disappointed that the only explanation for my chest pain is high blood pressure…
…and that I did this to myself.

It’s because of my poor choices that I am in this situation and I can’t blame anyone else, which makes it hard to not beat up on myself.  I don’t know where else to put the blame, the anger, the sadness that this is what my life has become – it’s solely my fault.  I am to blame, and it’s hard to not be mad and disappointed at me.

 

But somehow I thank God for that.  I thank God that as I go through this process of medications and walking and dietary changes, I know that I got myself into this mess and I can get myself out of it.  I know that I have the power to make poor choices and I have the power to make good choices.  I know that God is there with me through it all – disappointed in my choices but never in me – and will give me what I need when I need it.  I just have to listen to God’s still, small voice – or the really loud one that I definitely hear!  It’s not easy to make lifestyle changes…nor is it easy to make internal dialogue changes…but it can be done with time, patience, and persistence.

And grace – lots of grace.

much love. sheth. 

This Life.

by ShethChristianity / Life / Prayer / SeminaryLeave a Comment on This Life.

We’d planned to have dinner together, Chelsea May and I, but because I was on-call at the hospital, she was to meet me there and we would get something from the cafeteria (classy, I know).  The moment she messaged me that she was leaving her apartment and heading over, I received a page to call the hospital operator.  I returned the page and they patched me through to a frantic sounding NICU nurse: “Um, hi.  Can you come to the NICU right now?  Like, NOW, right now?”  She hung up the phone.  I called and told Chelsea May that I was going to run upstairs, see what was going on, and I’d let her know what the plans were going to be.

The NICU in this moment was different than I had experienced before.  Now, the medical team was trying to maintain calm and peace as they diligently and methodically worked on a 22-week-old body that rested on his mother’s chest.  She sat, her shirt stained with his blood and her pants stained with her own; her husband stood behind them, arms wrapped around her.  Doctors, nurses, translators, and me – we all danced around this family, our collective voices a hushed drone comprised of calls for medication and instruments, chart updates, medical jargon, Spanish and English prayers, questions and answers.

As I approached, the translator leaned over and told me the family’s names, then translated the words of the woman’s prayers: Thank you, God, for this life.  She repeated it over and over, a chant raised to the heavens.  In the minutes that followed, as the medical team took the body to the table to administer one last attempt, her prayers continued, and I somehow fell into the rhythm with her: Thank you, God, for this life.  Thank you, God, for this life.  Thank you, God…

 

This life could not take any more.

 

 

The medical staff apologized through tears
(though there was nothing to apologize for – they did their jobs and they did them well)…
they wept with one another, with the family, with themselves…
they wept as they removed tubes and lines from the body…
they wept as they returned the small body to the family. 

And she carried on: Thank you, God, for this life.  Thank you, God, for this life.  Thank you, God…

 

It’s been a little over two months since I was in that space, praying those words with that family, and it’s a prayer that I continue to this day.  I give thanks for this life which brought me to that space where I could pray with others.  I give thanks for this life which helped me understand myself and my vulnerabilities a little more.  I give thanks for this life which allowed me to be present with others.  I give thanks for this life which will be with me all of my days. 

Thank you, God, for this life.

much love. sheth.

Truth: Not Advocating.

by ShethChristianity / Church / Life / Love / Prayer / Relationships / Seminary / Truth Tuesday / WorkLeave a Comment on Truth: Not Advocating.

Earlier this week, Chelsea May and I waited patiently in a building’s lobby as a morning game show played on the TV; we were there for an introduction and potential interview at a small, rural hospital for her future work as a chaplain.  Neither one of us were quite sure what to expect, but she hoped to have some general questions answered and perhaps we’d receive a bit of hope that this location could hold a potential position in her future.  She had been my cheerleader in other things that weekend, but this was my time to stand with her and cheer her on as she explored her calling.

With substantial coffee breath, the man we were to meet with arrived and apologized for his tardiness, then introduced himself to us, “I’m _____.  You must be…Sheth?”  Then, turning to Chelsea May, “And you must be [mumbled/jumbled name]?”  She corrected him, “I’m Chelsea May.  It’s nice to meet you.”  Before she could get that little line out, though, this man had turned to face me and began the conversation: “So you all are hoping to volunteer here as a couple when you move to town?”

Obviously there was a communication breakdown somewhere.  I looked at Chelsea May and she clearly said that she was hoping to do a CPE residency in the nearby large city and she was looking to do her clinical experience remotely, either at this particular hospital or at one nearby.  She wanted to know how she could do this residency without having to drive long distances every day, a valid question with a (hopefully) simple answer.

I’ve heard about women being ignored in conversations.  I’ve heard about women being treated as ‘less than’.  I’ve heard about men ‘keeping women in their place’.  I’ve heard about blatant misogyny but had never seen it in action…

Within the first five minutes I felt a horrible pain in my soul as Chelsea May was ignored again, and again, and again as this man conversed with me – not her.  He remembered and used my name – not hers.  He asked me questions about her and wanted me to speak for her.  He acknowledged that she was present, but not-so-subtly indicated that she should remain silent.  He inferred that she was my partner, that she would follow my ministry, that she would do and say what I would tell her to do and say.  His ignorance said that she shouldn’t/couldn’t work and indicated where he thought her place should be: at home making babies.

I was stunned as the minutes ticked by and this man talked with me about chaplaincy, a vocation that was definitely not mine but is hers – the woman who was walking with us.  She is the one called to this ministry.  She is the one who wants to work in hospitals.  She is the one who wants to care for the sick and walk them to health or to death.  She is the one who wants to care for people and their stories.  This was supposed to be for her and her calling, not me.

 

 

We endured the conversation through the hospital and steered it to an end because we had to catch a flight.  As the conversation closed, he told me he looked forward to talking with me in the future and was glad to meet me; he barely acknowledged Chelsea May and offered her a cursory handshake.  She and I exited the building and I immediately apologized for I-don’t-know-what…

…for wasting her time…
…for this man treating her as less-than…
…for not uplifting her vocation…
…for this man being a jackass…
…for all men who have treated her in this same manner…
…to all women who have had to experience this attitude and treatment day after day after day.

I apologized for not saying something more direct at the beginning
for not standing up for her and her right to be there
for her and her right to be in ministry
for her and her right to be a chaplain
for her and her right to be an equal.

Chelsea May, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that this man assumed you would be who you are not and denied who you truly are.  I’m sorry that this man ignored you and deferred to me.  I’m sorry that this man refused your presence, your call, your vocation.  I’m sorry that this man was the epitome of a hypocritical Christian, who “acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle.”[1]

I’m sorry that this wasn’t the first time you’ve experienced this, but is just one of many moments that you’ll undoubtedly forget because it’s such a frequent occurrence.  I’m sorry that men have treated you this way in the past and that you have had to struggle and work and push so much harder than I ever imagined just to have your voice heard.  I’m sorry that we are not – and probably never will be – treated as equals.  I’m sorry that this happens again, and again, and again.

I’m sorry that I didn’t say something at the outset when we both recognized that this man viewed women as submissive beings for men’s enjoyment.  I’m sorry that I didn’t correct him and his thinking…I’m sorry that I didn’t steer the conversation to you… I’m sorry that I didn’t make room for you to stand up for yourself.  I’m sorry that I didn’t end the conversation but instead played the game to protect some future interest, when the higher priority should have been to protect you and your interests.  I’m sorry that I failed you in that moment.

Chelsea May, I hope that I will be better and do better.  I pray that I will heed the Sprit’s voice calling me to advocate for you – and all women – in all situations.  I pray that I will rely on God to empower me to use my influence and privilege for the benefit of others and not myself.  I pray that I will be a true partner with you – lifting up and encouraging you equally in all things in all moments.  I pray that you can live out your calling to serve God in chaplaincy and can face these misogynistic attitudes with strength, boldness, and resilience.  And may we both call out the jackasses when we see them.

much love. sheth.

 

[1] Brennan Manning

Truth: Heart.

by ShethChristianity / Life / Love / Prayer / Seminary / Truth Tuesday2 Comments on Truth: Heart.

Nearly two weeks ago I passed the Bible Content Exam – a feat that has taken me four times to complete.  As I made my way to the classroom’s door that morning, my school’s dean of students told me I could celebrate by eating some free breakfast tacos.  Passing a hard exam and getting free tacos is usually a joyous occasion, but I, instead, broke down crying, sputtering out, “I can’t eat anything!”

“Stress has your stomach upset?  That’s understa-“

“No (sniff) I can’t eat because I’m fasting because I have a (inhale) stress test today because my heart has been hurting (wipe nose on sleeve) and I’m terrified that I’m going to die.”

I’ve been having some chest pain for over a year – lately it feels like someone has their thumb against my chest all the time, but for the past few years there’s been other weird feelings in my heart.  Practically speaking, I have avoided the doctor because paying for deductibles, co-pays, and medication as well as finding time to make an appointment is all overwhelming.  But emotionally, being scared to know the reality of what may be wrong with my heart has kept me from going to a doctor (ignorance is bliss, after all); but not going to a doctor has exacerbated my fears and potential health issues.  It’s a terrible cycle and place in life, but it’s my life.

As I unloaded my ever-so-brief medical history on her, I could tell it was not what she was expecting in that moment – she has been with me in all my previous attempts at this bible exam and she was hoping for more…joy…because I had finally passed.  This health exam news was new territory for both of us and she did her best to pour on pastoral care mixed with an overabundance of re-framing of the situation.  She suggested I look at some pictures of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and meditate on the humanity of Jesus’ heart.

This suggestion has been on my mind these past two weeks as my heart continues to ache and test results show ‘abnormalities’, forcing me to even more tests and unexpected unknowns.  But it’s made me ponder about the humanity and physical body of Christ.  I wonder if Christ ever felt weak as he trudged up a mountain to get away from the crowds…did his heart pound in his chest as he weaved through the brush?  I wonder if his chest felt like a thousand elephants sat on it as he prayed in the garden, knowing what would happen in the coming hours…did he have trouble catching his breath as he knelt on that rocky ground?  Did the stress and pain of his work ever affect his physical body?

The mystery of Jesus’ heart is just as mysterious as mine, but perhaps the mystery is where I can find my rest in these uncertain moments.  I don’t – and won’t – know the answers to these questions about Christ, nor about my heart, for some time.  Answers to tough questions require a bit of time, a bit of knowledge, and a bit of trust: trust that answers will come…trust that I’ll know what I need to know…trust that God, indeed, is in control.  I find it assuring that my God might have experienced something I am experiencing and that we have something in common…something we can talk about…something we can complain about.

There are some things I know are coming next for me: more tests, more doctor’s appointments, more leafy green salads.  And there are still a lot of unknowns, and I will work to rest in those unknowns.  And I’ll hope to find comfort that God had a body like mine, and perhaps it, too, had some issues like mine.

much love. sheth.

Truth: Remember?

by ShethChristianity / Life / Poetry / Prayer / Seminary / Truth Tuesday / WritingLeave a Comment on Truth: Remember?

 

“Remember your baptism!”
said the old man with
arthritic hands, bellowing
from the pulpit.

“Remember…”
I sat in the pew, head skyward,
picking at the curled pages
of the bible.

“Remember your baptism!”
I stared at the dulled (muted)
stained glass Jesus
staring back at me.

“Remember…”
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I heard it last week
and the week before.

I sit in silence as he
drones on and on
and on, about what
I can’t remember.

I stand to leave; only
Mrs. Meyers notices.
She glares at me, but next week
she won’t remember.

Outside, the clouds are looming,
grey/black/purple
covering the sky.
They remember.

I get wet, the cold rain seeping
through my clothes, drenching,
soaking, saturating to the bone.
And I…
I remember.

 

much love. sheth.

Truth: Choices

by ShethChristianity / Church / Missions / Prayer / Seminary / Truth Tuesday / WorkLeave a Comment on Truth: Choices

Not too long ago my girlfriend and I were making our way to the store and I posed this question: “If you could pick three people from our graduating class to work in a church you attended, who would you pick, and what positions would they fill?”  Never turning down a hypothetical question, she pondered briefly and then quickly rattled off the three names and their positions…then quickly threw in an, “Ooh, wait!  __________ would be great in that position!  And…can I have four choices?”

We went back and forth, thinking of positions in the church and who would be good for them and how we would definitely want this person or that person.  We couldn’t be confined to the parameters of my question and we both quickly came to the consensus that we’d need a very large budget for our staffing because we’d like to have so many of our classmates working in churches we’d attend.

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of my time admiring my classmates and watching them gives me hope for the future, while simultaneously making me jealous of those lucky congregations who get to receive these new chaplains and pastors.  If my classmates are any indication of the future of the Church, I’d say it’s in good hands.

 

The Church has been in decline in the United States for a while and there’s been a cry for new leadership with fresh ideas to rescue the sinking ship.  I often wonder why these cries continue to come, year after year, because there has been a continual output of new leadership and fresh ideas from seminaries and divinity schools for decades.  I can’t help but wonder who’s at fault.  Have these new and creative voices been stifled?  Have these ideas been put aside for safety and security?  Has the Church rejected change simply for security despite declining numbers?  Will the Church ever come to a realization that there needs to be risk…there needs to be faith…there needs to be failure for growth and success?

As I’ve been watching and listening to my classmates talk about their hopes for the Church and their future communities, I pray to God that they don’t put it all aside for their own security.  I pray that these future chaplains and pastors don’t ‘fall into line’ simply to maintain their jobs.  And I desperately pray that the churches that call these women and men don’t stifle their creativity, their new ideas, or their plans for revitalization.

My task to the Church is this: be willing to take risks with your new leaders.  Call to your leadership positions people with big ideas, challenging ideas, wild-out-of-the-norm ideas.  Call to your leadership positions people who don’t fit the mold, people who you’ve overlooked for so long, people you know will challenge you.  And be willing to step into the discomfort of the unknown with your pastors and chaplains – their ideas may be exactly what your community needs in this moment!

My task to those moving into church and chaplaincy is this: be willing to take risks.  Don’t deny who you are for a paycheck.  Don’t let your ideas, your creativity, your dreams for the Church be stifled by old ideas and ancient ways.  Be ready to say ‘yes’ to things you’d never dreamed of and be willing to fail in big ways.  Meet with other pastors and dream, plot, and scheme together.  Step out of the well-trod pathways and look for other paths, easier – or harder – paths than the one you’re on.  And be willing to quit if you need to…be willing to recognize when you’ve hit a wall and move on.

The future can be bright for the Church if the Church is willing.  May God grant us all an abundance of hope and vision for the future, and may we all have an excess of grace and encouragement for one another.  The change is here…are we willing to take it?

much love. sheth.

Close

by ShethChristianity / Love / Poetry / Prayer / Seminary / Truth TuesdayLeave a Comment on Close


He spoke of silently weeping
after he had climbed to the top of Mount Sinai
and witnessed the rising of the sun
quickly light up the sky
in a splash of vermilion.

He told tales of slowly wading
into the muddy, reedy waters of the Jordan
standing as He did and baptized as He was
in those hallowed waters,
though, this time for the experience.

He recalled solemnly watching
as bodies moved to and from the Western Wall,
those silent – and loud – pray-ers who offered up
their petitions to God, who
no doubt listened intently.


Once, I visited my grandmother
after a long absence, and
as we silently sat in her room,
I held her hand.

I can confidently say, this:


I was closer to God.

 

Truth: Burning.

by ShethBeauty / Christianity / Friends / Life / Loneliness / Love / Prayer / Relationships / Seminary / Suicide / Truth Tuesday1 Comment on Truth: Burning.

Villa Grove is a dot on the map, not even a stop – it’s simply a place people drive through, and while there are a few residents within the immediate township, most of the people are scattered around the San Luis Valley.  The residents of the area moved there to enjoy the tranquility of the valley, while others moved there to run away from civilization.  If you mind your own business and don’t get overly friendly, the area is a great place to live.

As a pawn for the USPS, I worked the Villa Grove post office quite often as they were seeking a permanent employee.  The office, situated on the side of the highway, faced east towards Hayden Pass and was prime viewing ground for watching smoke plumes from a forest fire in 2016.  The initial days of the fire were unnerving for people on both sides of the pass as it was unclear which direction the fire would travel. Would it remain on the east side of the pass and head towards Coaldale or would it crawl over the pass and head west towards Villa Grove?

I had a customer come in to the office and she made it clear that she was terrified of what may happen, pounding the counter and demanding that the fire be put out.  She wanted to know why there weren’t more planes and helicopters dropping retardant and water, and why there weren’t more firefighters creating fire lines.  She didn’t want to see the destruction.  She didn’t want to see the dangerous after effects.  She didn’t want people to lose homes and property.  The raging fires were too much for her and she couldn’t see any good in it.

*****

Today I was talking with one of my friends and I was trying to explain why I was taking on more than my fair share of some group work we’re doing together.  And out of nowhere I started to well up with tears because I know this person is facing some big fires in their life, and that’s why I’m doing extra.  The fire in their life is moving along, taking out a lot of old, dead wood and I hate that they have to face the destruction.  The truth is, I’m a lot like that woman at the post office: no more pain, no more struggles, no more danger.  I want the fires out!

*****

That fire on Hayden Pass ended up moving across more than 16,000 acres of land, burning vast areas of deadfall trees and brush – things that needed to burn.  In the following months after that fire, it was difficult to imagine the good that could come from it.  The burn scar had no protection from the rains and there ended up being great deluges in gulches, bringing down dead and burned trees and giant boulders.

As the years have passed, the benefits of the fire are becoming clearer, with healthier trees and grasses becoming more prevalent across the landscape.  The burn scar is becoming less noticeable and, if anything, it makes the unhealthy, non-burned areas more noticeable.  The fire and it’s immediate aftermath were destructive, painful, and left many feeling scared, but it’s made the landscape more beautiful.

*****

I know that my friend has to face these fires. 

I know that it’s going to be difficult, painful, and destructive.

I know there’s nothing I can do to put out these fires –
they’re necessary and have to burn.

I thank God that my friend will be cleared of all the deadfall in their life
and will come out of it with fertile and healthy ground
to grow stronger, deeper, and taller than they were before.

May the fires in our lives burn where they must, and may we face the flames with strength and humility.  May God bring us out of these fires and into growth…into thriving…into beauty.

much love. sheth.

Truth: On Leave.

by ShethChristianity / Friends / Life / Loneliness / Love / Prayer / Relationships / Seminary / Truth Tuesday2 Comments on Truth: On Leave.

Out of character, I’ve been pretty defensive lately, keeping my guard up with the people around me.  Part of it is because there are a handful of students who have learned some of the tricks of the chaplaincy trade and they can now crack the toughest shell with ease (and I need to maintain my mysteriousness). 

As she was working on worship bulletins, Carrie was nonchalantly talking with me, weaving her way through my defenses and she asking me the tough questions.  We talked about my feelings (ugh) and she mentioned that I haven’t been my usual, happy self lately.  I responded that I’m a bit behind in classwork…I’m tired of the school’s systems and unresponsiveness to problems…I’m weary of swings too far to the left and too far to the right…I’m feeling silenced because I’m stereotyped as the oppressor.  I said I’m done with the whole school ‘thing’ and want to move on.

“Maybe you’re beginning to mourn the fact that you’re going to have to move on?  Maybe you’re a little angry that you’re going to have to leave?”

*****

A few weeks ago I had come up with the theme for May’s student newsletter – ‘Leaving’ – and I was looking forward to writing on that subject matter because I have some things I’d like to get off my chest!  But as I think about it and the reflect on the conversation with my friend from earlier today, I’m realizing that she’s probably right – I’m mourning the fact that I’m going to be leaving.  The truth is that I’m ready to go, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to these people.  And I’m realizing that I’m not good at leaving.

I recall being in 4th or 5th grade and having to go to church with my parents outside of our ‘normal’ church time.  It wasn’t rushed or an emergency, but it was still a serious moment.  While not given all the details, I recall my parents telling me that the pastor might be leaving and the church was meeting to discuss it.

The adults met in the sanctuary and us kids went (unsupervised) to the gym to play.  As the evening progressed, it began to sink in that if the pastor left, his daughter – my best friend – would have to leave as well.  My heart dropped slowly through the evening, and I didn’t know how to process those feelings.  I ended up using anger and frustration to express my sadness and heartbreak, and from then on I’ve been protective of leaving moments.

Leaving for college was disastrous.  I intentionally have zero contact with any woman I’ve previously dated.  I slowly let friendships die off if they – or I – move away.  I’d rather cut off, cut out, or destroy any relationship than have to face the process of leaving gracefully.

I know that’s not a healthy way to live, and I think that’s why I’ve been wrestling with all kinds of feelings lately.  I don’t want to be defensive, angry, and holding back my feelings for people – but it’s a whole lot easier than remaining attached and doing the work to maintain relationships.  And it’s a whole lot easier than having to show my feelings and be vulnerable.

I don’t know how to leave gracefully. 

I don’t know how to say goodbye to some relationships and foster others.

I don’t know how to acknowledge that I won’t see most of these people again.

I don’t know how I’ll manage to be in ministry without these talented, loving, Christ-like people by my side.

This hurts my soul…and raises my defenses.

My God,
help me to leave this place well.
let me humbly return.
guide my heart to the new
and bring me often to old.

much love. sheth.