"fearlessly expanding the feminine voice"

When I first joined the Redbud Writers Guild, I saw this phrase on their website: 

"Fearlessly expanding the feminine voice in our churches, communities, and culture."

That resonated with me.

Because even though I have a voice and I want to use it, I am still timid about speaking up in the catholic (read: universal) Church. 

Perhaps this is curious to you.

You might be asking one of two questions:

1.  Why does the feminine voice need to be expanded?

2.  Why would anyone be fearful about using their voice?

I write today from a place of love - I am not angry or bitter as I write these words.  But I do want to explain why that phrase resonated with me and why I think the catholic Church needs to intentionally make steps to be more inclusive to women. 

*****

I am the researcher in our family.

I have researched everything from housing options to strollers, partly because I think researching is fun and partly because I want to make wise, informed decisions for our family.

So when we moved to Omaha it was only natural that I started researching churches.  I would collect all the information and then talk through each church with my husband, pulling up their websites so he could look too.

I scoured their websites and listened to podcasts of previous sermons.  I downloaded bulletins and researched their childcare policies.  

And I always read about the pastors.  At that point, we were only considering churches who had male pastors.

That's when I noticed a sad trend.

As I looked at their book recommendations, and as I searched their social media accounts, all the Christian authors, pastors, and speakers they recommended and were connected with were men.  On a very long booklist, I saw only one female author mentioned, but only about "female issues" (i.e. one book on the wife's side of marriage and one book on parenting)

These pastors didn't have women speaking into their lives.

Of course, you could argue that my method for finding this out wasn't the most accurate. You could say that who someone follows on Twitter is an arbitrary way of finding out who they listen to.

But I think it is indicative of more.

Are these men doing it intentionally? 

I don't think so.  

But they are ignoring half of the church.

Intentionally or not, it sends the message that not only should women not teach, they also don't have anything valuable to add to theology or Christianity.


*****

I attended a church with all male pastors.  That wasn't an oversight, it was what they believed.

This church sent a group of their pastors overseas to mentor local pastors in a country where the government is trying to repress Christianity, yet it was flourishing.

When I saw a picture of the trip, I laughed.  A tiny room of someone's apartment was packed, wall-to-wall with women.

The church set a group of all male pastors (men who believed that only men should be pastors) to teach a group of all FEMALE pastors.  Really, it was comical.

They came home talking about how much God was doing in this country.  How amazing it was!

I wondered if these men ever considered that they had half of their team benched.  And maybe, just maybe they would play a better game if they used all their players.

Did they consider these female pastors second-best?  Did they think God was only using women because He couldn't find any men in the country?  Or does God just use people? People who love Him and are committed to Him.

When I tried to bring this up to someone, it was excused as "cultural".

Instead of laughing, I got angry that time.  But I didn't press the argument because no one wanted to be pressed on it.

Passages about women being silent in church and men alone being pastors were taken literally at this church.  If I had tried to say that those passages didn't apply today because they were cultural and were written to people over 2,000 years before, this church would have said that I was denying biblical truth.

Yet here we were, two churches at the exact same point in history, and the difference could be dismissed as cultural?


*****

She laughed as she told me, "When they gave me the job, they called me the children's minister, but if they had hired a man, the position would have been children's pastor."

Exact same job description.  Exact same work load.  Exact same responsibilities.

Different title.

Whether or not that woman was called a pastor, she was pastoring.

It was semantics.

*****


I've heard it in college.  I've heard it in churches.

A prophet just means a preacher.

They say this when we're studying the Old Testament prophets, of course.

They don't mention the six women in the Bible who are called prophets.

They don't mention that Act 2 quotes Joel saying that a sign of the Holy Spirit coming will be that "sons and daughters will prophesy" (emphasis mine).

They don't mention I Corinthians where Paul calmly gives instructions for when (not if) women prophesy in Church.

So...a prophet means a preacher, unless that prophet is a woman?

*****

When I've said these things to people before, I usually hear one thing from them.

"Don't you think it is self-seeking?  Don't you think women just want these things because they want attention?  Aren't we called to humility?"

Here is my answer: It can be self-seeking.  They may simply want attention.  And yes, we are called to humility.

But all of these thing can be said for men as well.

Yet when I've seen men who say they feel called to preach or called to the ministry, I see them encouraged.  People are excited about it.

But women?

When a woman says she feels called to ministry (or to preach), her motives are immediately questioned.  Her character is vetted.  She has to prove herself over and over again.  

These women aren't always self-seeking.  In fact, often it is a bold step of faith for them to simply say aloud that they feel called to preach - they know the reception they will receive.

A person's motives may not be pure when they decide to become a pastor, but I think that has much less to do with their gender and more to do with their character.

*****

Do you see the need to expand the feminine voice yet?  And do you see why sometimes we are fearful about using our voices?

Regardless of what is said, the feminine voice isn't always welcome in the Church.

the best of the month: APRIL

Last month I started a series called The Best of the Month where I share my favorite articles and blog posts from the past month.  Each day I read multiple articles so when I come across one that I really like, I save the link.  At the end of the month I sort through all the links, divide them into categories, and share my favorite from each one.  Hope that you enjoy these reads as much as I did.


PARENTING

Jessica at Jessica Lynn Writes: Hope For My Military Child

This morning I was holding my newborn daughter, and for the first time I felt a twinge of sadness. She didn't choose this lifestyle. Her dad will deploy in the future and leave her for months at a time. Through her tears, I'll have to explain why he left and comfort her when all she wants is him. I love that she'll grow up experiencing new places, but it absolutely breaks my heart that she'll see her family's faces more on a computer screen than in person. 

This may be the life I chose, but I didn't necessarily choose it for her, so I hope I can show her the positive aspects of this military life and I hope they'll outweigh the negative just a little bit. I hope the friends we make across the world will become her surrogate family, giving her the physical hugs, kisses, and playtime when her real family is far away. I hope my husband and I will be a good example as parents so when he jets off for the sandbox she'll know he's coming back to a family bound by love. I hope, whether we move across the world or down the street, that she'll understand—as cliche as this is—that her home isn't defined by an address, but by where her heart is planted.

BLOGGING

Laura at Hollywood Housewife: Blogging is My Favorite: When I Blog

Your favorite bloggers - those that write well, post frequently, or photograph recipes, fashion, or crafts - are spending a lot of time on their blogs. They’re not squeezing it in during naptime. If they don’t have some sort of help...or kids in school all day, I guarantee you that they’re getting up extra early or working late into the night. Solid blogging takes a lot of time. The content itself takes hours, but then if you want anyone to see it you have to have a presence on social media, respond to reader and professional emails, and deal with various backend issues.

FEMINISM

Sandra Glahn at Her.meneutics: The Feminists We Forgot 

This "new woman" is not an invention of second-wave feminism either. Betty Friedan did not start the "woman movement;" Christians did. Motivated by the belief that men and women were made in God's image to "rule the earth" together, these pro-woman, pro-justice believers sought to right wrongs for those who had less social influence.

HEALTH

Eve O. Schaub at Everyday Health: Our Year of No Sugar: One Family's Grand Adventure 

 I wanted to see how hard it would be to have our family — me, my husband, and our two children (ages 6 and 11) — spend an entire year eating foods that contained no added sugar. We’d cut out anything with an added sweetener, be it table sugar, honey, molasses, maple syrup, agave or fruit juice. We also excluded anything made with fake sugar or sugar alcohols. Unless the sweetness was attached to its original source (e.g., a piece of fruit), we didn’t eat it. 

Once we started looking we found sugar in the most amazing places: tortillas, sausages, chicken broth, salad dressing, cold cuts, crackers, mayonnaise, bacon, bread, and even baby food. 

CHRISTIANITY

(I'm including two from this category because there were SO MANY amazing choices - I finally narrowed it down to these two)

Rebecca Wohl at Commission on Biblical Gender Equality: I Can't Change My Spots

I took her hands even tighter into my own and led her to a chair so we could talk. Her sweet spirit and kind words moved my heart, and I could tell we had more to chat about. 

“Well, after all these years of believing that women shouldn’t be in the pulpit, I just can’t change how I feel about that. But your – ,” she hesitated again.

I smiled again and tried one more time, “Sermon?”

 “Ok, for lack of a better word, yes, your sermon was really one of the best sermons I have ever heard, and it challenged me in my faith – imagine that, after 80 years of walking with Jesus.”

I was very humbled and grateful for her generous words, but wanted to push further…  “Ah, thank you so much! It was my true honor to bring God’s Word today. I’m so thankful that the Spirit ministered to you. So you are not sure if women should preach, but you think that maybe, I’m an OK preacher though?” I pushed further.

“Oh yes! The best! But that’s just you honey, I don’t know about any other woman out there.”

“So, if I’m a good preacher, and I am a woman, isn’t it possible that there are other good preachers out there who are women too?”

James Hoskins at Christ & Pop Culture: "God's Not Dead" and the Angry Atheist Professor: That Was Not My Experience 

...I’m concerned that the movie God’s Not Dead perpetuates a false stereotype: that of the bully atheist philosophy professor who is out to destroy every Christian student’s faith. I’m sure there are some of those professors out there. But I doubt that they are a majority. Even if they were, though, I don’t think caricatures and stereotypes are helpful. When we uncritically accept a caricature of someone, we become less gracious people. Instead, we become more dismissive, presumptuous, and defensive. We also become more likely to misinterpret an honest challenge to our faith as an “attack,” and react in a way that is less than winsome.

MILITARY

Kim at She is Fierce: The Sound of a Silent Doorbell

All I could do was wait to see if my doorbell would ring. 

When morning came and it hadn't, I received a phone call confirming that Dh was OK.

What I felt then was almost harder than what I had experienced the entire sleepless night.

 It was the guilt that follows that moment of relief.

Because it wasn't my love, but it was most certainly someones.

It wasn't my heart broken, but the hearts of 4 other families.

MY WRITING

What Kept Me in Church Was Communion

When my eyes locked into the lay minister’s and he said, “Christ’s Body, broken for you,” I believed him.  When I dipped that scrap of bread, humble yet holy, into the communion wine, it sent shivers down my spine.  “Christ’s blood, spilled for you.”  This was the Gospel, simple and true.

It wasn’t a fancy program or a new method to “reach my generation.” It was following the example of Christ when He said, “Do this in remembrance of me.”  And I did: I remembered Him.

When the cynicism of Christianity scabbed over my heart, the simplicity of the Gospel ripped it open again.  In my remembrance of Him, the offenses I held against the modern Church faded away.  

What is the best thing you read (or wrote!) this month?

What Kept Me in Church Was Communion

"It wasn't preaching or programs; what kept me in Church was communion"

("Do This" by Matt via Creative Commons license on Flickr)

I am one of those Millennials who seem to be leaving the Church in droves (at least, according to everything I’ve been reading in Christian books, magazines and blogs).  

I grew up in the Church, was home-schooled and spent two years working with a Christian ministry before heading to a Christian college where I met my husband.  The perfect (American) Christian story, it seemed. 

But I am also a critic.  

When I left college, I took a long, hard look at Christianity.  I used to believe in all of it.  But I was no longer sure.  I had seen plenty of people who were Christians in the same way that other people are golfers.  It was their hobby; it was how they made friends, how they chose their reading material and it dictated where they spent their Sunday mornings.  

But I knew that if I was going to stick with this Christianity thing, it had to be something more.  Like so many of my generation, I wanted to be a Christian not because I was raised that way, but because I was convinced that I couldn’t live an honest life apart from Christ.

For a while I wasn’t sure where I would end up.  After twenty-four years of weekly sermons and four years of daily chapel services, I didn’t miss preaching.  I found community other places (in our case, with fellow military families).  I listened to beautiful music, saw beautiful art that spoke to me and propelled my soul into states of worship. To be unflatteringly frank: I didn’t miss Church.

But we kept going.  

And, like I assumed proper for a believer, I used small talk and a smile to dam up my doubts. 

Eventually, we started attending a new church.  They had good preaching and music.  The community was strong.  But what struck me was the fact that they practiced Communion every week.  I’ve attended many churches in my life, but this was the first time where Communion was an integral and expected part of each service. 

The first time I took Communion there, I was left shaken.  “Why?” I wondered.  “I’ve taken Communion so many times and never felt particularly moved.”  There were small differences, actual loaves of bread and goblets of wine, instead of stale wafers and tiny cups of grape juice.  But there was more.   

There was something in Communion that I couldn’t deny.

When my eyes locked into the lay minister’s and he said, “Christ’s Body, broken for you,” I believed him.  When I dipped that scrap of bread, humble yet holy, into the communion wine, it sent shivers down my spine.  “Christ’s blood, spilled for you.”  This was the Gospel, simple and true.

It wasn’t a fancy program or a new method to “reach my generation.” It was following the example of Christ when He said, “Do this in remembrance of me.”  And I did: I remembered Him.

When the cynicism of Christianity scabbed over my heart, the simplicity of the Gospel ripped it open again.  In my remembrance of Him, the offenses I held against the modern Church faded away.  

Had I seen Bible verses spewed as weapons against those we were supposed to love?  Absolutely.  But Christ’s Body was broken for me.  Was I disgusted that some Christians (including myself at times) acted like a person’s love for Jesus could be determined by their hemline or haircut?  Yes.  But Christ’s blood was poured out.  For me!

Each week it was the same.  I appreciated that our Church had good music and preaching.  And I learned and I grew from those.  But what brought me back each week was Communion.  I couldn’t wait until the end of each service to migrate from our seats to the stations at the front.  Each week I went away affected, changed.  It never got old.

Shauna Niequist writes in Bread & Wine,

 “Like every Christian, I recognize the two as food and drink, and also, at the very same time, I recognize them as something much greater – mystery and tradition and symbol.  Bread is bread, and wine is wine, but bread-and-wine is another thing entirely.  The two together are the sacred and the material at once, the heaven and earth, the divine and the daily.”

Growing up Protestant, I somehow got the impression that I shouldn’t take the Lord’s Supper too seriously.  “It’s just a sign, a symbol, after all”, said the voices in my head.  But I stopped caring about those voices.  I wasn’t sure what was going on as I partook in Communion, but I knew that it was changing me. 

In her spiritual memoir about converting to Christianity, Lauren Winner writes how, before she was even eligible to receive communion, she insisted on attending a church that practiced it each week.  “I didn’t understand what it was, exactly, or how it worked, but I knew, deeply, that the Eucharist was somehow essential, that it was the heart of what we do in those spired buildings”.  

Her words resonate with me: communion is the heart of what we do, which makes me wonder why many churches practice it so infrequently.  Why have preaching and music been elevated to a weekly status, but communion has been pushed to a monthly or even quarterly occurrence?  

It’s as if we’ve somehow decided that God can reach people with words (preaching), but He doesn’t really use actions (communion).  

But sometimes I wonder if there are others like me in the church; people who have heard enough words and really just want to see Jesus. 

And that is what I love about communion: it is so clearly about Jesus.  

In spite of my cynicism, I couldn’t deny Him when faced plainly with the truth of His sacrifice: His body, broken, His blood, spilled.  It is Christ, and him crucified (I Corinthians 2:2).  

And after seeing so many programs aimed at “reaching people”, I appreciate that communion is free of gimmicks.  It’s eating and drinking, and yet it is so much more.  Each time I partake, I remember that Jesus Himself established this act and that the church has practiced it through the ages with these same words and these same elements.  Amazing. 

Each week my soul is rattled anew as I receive Christ’s body and blood.  What that even means I’m not even sure.  But C.S. Lewis reminds me that “the command, after all, was Take, eat: not Take, understand”.  

And so, I take and eat with joy.  And hope that one day, perhaps, I’ll understand.     

("Christ Institutes the Eucharist" by Lawrence OP via Creative Commons license on Flickr)

**another post on communion: broken and spilled.

A Letter to the Incoming Freshmen Class at Christian Colleges

Dear Freshmen,

A few months ago you were filling out applications for college and comparing the list with your friends.  Last month you started anxiously checking the mailbox for college acceptance letters.  Your prayers may have started getting desperate: "Please, God, let me be accepted to at least ONE school!"  And then, as multiple acceptance letters came back, you realized that you had options!

All of a sudden the theoretical planning you had been doing for the last few years of high school came down to the big decision: which school are you going to choose?  

If you're reading this letter, I'm guessing that you've chosen to attend a Christian college.  Or as my alma mater put it: a Christ-Center learning community ("Because colleges can't be Christian").

I'm excited for you!!  The four years I spent at my university were some of the best of my life.  I have wonderful memories of friends, professors, dorm life, chapel and so much more.  My Christianity became more robust and profound because of friends, professors, and classes that asked me good questions and forced my worldview to stretch in necessary ways.  There is so much good that I could tell you, but I'm guessing you have heard many of those cheesy lines in the brochures and videos your prospective college sent you.  ;)

(A quick note: I've had many family members and friends attend secular universities who also loved their time in college, so I'm not saying that happy experiences are restricted to Christian colleges.  I'm simply writing from my experience.)

Now that I've been out of that the Christian college environment for a few years, I think I've gained some perspective.  I'd like to share a few tips to help you prepare for the upcoming school year.

It's Going To Cost

Christian colleges are expensive.  Many graduates (myself included) spend years paying off those bills.  If you want to reduce those costs, find out what job are available on campus.  That doesn't necessarily mean cleaning dishes in the cafeteria.  Students can join a cleaning crew, work in the library, tutor other students, run soundboards, and more.

It is an INTENSE Christian environment.

Think of Church summer camp on steroids.  It's not a bad thing, but it can feel a bit suffocating and myopic at times.

Go to Counseling.

I would say this no matter where you went to college, but it is especially true if you're attending a Christian college.  Most likely this is the last time in your life that counseling will be free so it is great to take advantage of it.  Don't feel like counseling is reserved for people with "major" issues either - most people have life issues to sort through in their early twenties.  I cannot recommend counseling enough!!  

Majors and Spirituality Don't Correlate.

People who major into Bible-related subjects are not more spiritual than the rest of us.  Some of them are doubters, some are rebels, some will eventually leave the faith, and some are truly sincere.  Knowing the Bible doesn't necessarily mean that you know Jesus.

Abide By the Rules...Most of the Time

Speaking as a former RA, please try to obey the rules, ESPECIALLY if student RAs are made to enforce them.  The RAs I knew dreaded confronting other students, but we signed a contract agreeing to do it.  Since you knew the rules before you agreed to go there, you were subjecting yourself to those rules. 

That being said, college is also about fun.  If you grew up in a strict environment and take things seriously and avoid getting into trouble, make sure you take time to have fun.  My husband's dorm made an indoor slip-n-slide down the hall (definitely against the rules).  I was late to curfew a few times (against the rules).  My husband was thrown in the lake after we got engaged (a college tradition, but still against the rules).  I drank alcohol during summer break (against the rules although I didn't know it at the time).  I made it through all four years without any demerits, but I wish I had been a little more relaxed about the rules and had more fun. 

So obey the rules.  But break a few.  But be smart about the ones you choose to break. 

You Will Be Stretched and Will (probably, hopefully) Change. 

And it's a good thing.  Admittedly having your beliefs challenged and then trying to figure out what you believe can be very uncomfortable.  It is easy to rely on the answers you've been given your whole life, but this is a time to study and question and learn.  

People Still Get Hurt.

Multiple Christian colleges are currently under investigation for mishandling sexual assault.
There are many Christian colleges currently under investigation because they dealt with rape incorrectly.  I beg of you: don't be naive!  Please don't assume that a student, faculty or staff member is safe because you are at a Christian college.

Christians Cheat and Lie and Steal.

Don't plagiarize.  Don't cheat.  Etcetera.  

Try Very Hard Not to Judge.

With so many rules, it's easy to use those rules as the markers for good and bad Christians.  Skirt an inch shorter than dress code?  Bad Christian.  Never skipped chapel?  Good Christian.  Beyond making judgement about someone based on their actions, sometimes we make them based on their theology, like this: Doesn't believe in a literal 7-day creation?  Bad Christian.

I hope that you'll come to a gracious and winsome place as a Christian.  Even if you hold tightly to your beliefs, I hope that you'll be kind to others, that you will actually listen to them and that you'll see Christ as our unifier.  

Once You Leave, All Bets Are Off.

One of my former cello teachers attended a university known for being one of the most conservative and most strict in the country.  While she loved her time there and was still very involved in the university, I remember her telling me that there was a very high divorce rate among the alumni.  She said: "They've never been given any freedom.  They went straight from a strict household to a strict college where they were told what to wear and when we go to bed.  They meet someone, graduate, and get married and suddenly realize they have freedom to do what they want."  In other words, don't confuse conformity with character.

The Chapel Stage is Not a Shortcut to Heaven.

Yeah, yeah, I know.  Everyone seems to be rushing to get up there to sing or play an instrument or pray.  The people on stage get noticed a lot.  If you do end up taking part in chapel, that's great!  But if not, it's okay.  You can be known for a lot of great things on campus without ever stepping foot on the chapel stage.

You Will Absolutely, Undoubtedly See UnChristlike Behavior.

You will meet many marvelous, godly, and sincere people.  They will encourage you and challenge you and make your college years wonderful.  But you will also witness unChristlike behavior from administration, from fellow students, from professors, and staff members.  I'm warning you so that you are prepared.  It is disheartening to watch, especially when you're at a college that you love so much.  But it is a good reminder that we are called to behave like Christ (not like other Christians) even when the circumstances are skewed.  

I hope that your first year at college is fantastic.  I hope that you learn and grow and have fun.  I hope that you make friends and make a few mistakes (and realize that you can get over those mistakes).  I hope you find a gracious, welcoming community for these next four years.

Love,
  Callie

p.s. If you're looking for more general college advice, you can read the letter I wrote to my younger sister upon her graduation from high school.

Gossip is a Spiritual Issue

"I am a gossip.

I have spoken words about others that have been unnecessary, unkind and sometimes even untrue. I have painted others with verbal caricatures that have been unforgiving and unflatteringly. More times than I would like to admit, I have needed to beg forgiveness from God and others for my speech."

Today I'm sharing over my story over at RELEVANT magazine.  Read the rest of the article here.    

The Day I Was Published. (And Why I Need to Get Thicker Skin)

Two weeks ago I had my very first article get published at RELEVANT.  It is such a tiny step in a lot of ways - there are so many wonderful writers in the world who get published all the time.  But this first time was special to me.  It was special, but it was also a bit crazy and scary.

It was a very normal day.  I did laundry.  I ran to Target.  I got a migraine.  I picked up the toddler's food off the floor.  I skipped writing to huddle in bed watching Sherlock and tried to get rid of the shakes that accompanied the migraine.

But at the same time I was watching the article and seeing as people read it and responded.  It absolutely astounded me to see my words valued and see that my story resonated with people.

Most amazing to me was the fact that men (PASTORS, even) shared my article.  I know it is silly since I'm both a feminist and an egalitarian, but it is still a surprise to me when Christian men think I have valuable thoughts and bring something to the table.  That's sad, right?  I so deeply want my (imaginary) daughter to grow up feeling valued and important in Church and to know that her words matter.

When the article went live, I knew, of course, that I would get negative comments.  What I didn't know is how much they would sting.  I didn't know that sharing my story gave people permission to comment on my marriage and my life and make assumptions based on what they read.  But that's what they did.

A few days after it was published, one of the negative comments was still bothering me.  Every time I thought about that comment, it was as if those words were being etched into my heart.  I cried in the car, feeling vastly misunderstood and mostly worrying about the negative words affecting my family.  My husband had read and approved the article before I submitted it because I knew that this story wasn't just about me.  But had I made the right choice in sharing our story?  

As I drove, I kept listening to Aubrey Assad's song "I Shall Not Want" and the line where she asks to be delivered "from the need to be understood."  It resonated with me that day as I just wished I could sit down with those negative commenters and tell them all the bits of the story that didn't fit in the article.  I was sure they would understand then.  I needed them to understand.

The image of the negative words being etched into my heart wouldn't leave my mind.  But then, in an uncharacteristic Charismatic moment, I felt God tell me something.  I was suddenly sure that those words weren't allowed to remain on my heart and burn their way into my life.   My identity is found in Christ and he has already told me what he thinks of me.

I know that the more I wrote, the more negative comments I will receive.  And I also know that I need to let them go.  Writing has connected me to God and has been a way for me to "work through my salvation with fear and with trembling."  Writing has connected me to people, both other writers and people who have resonated with my story.  And, truthfully, I've always been a writer in some form or another.  In the past it has just been in the form of journals.  I am healthy and happy when I write.  And that is the reason I continue to write.

Scenes of Church

(Photo from Avidly Abide on Flickr via Creative Commons license)

"Bashing the Church is in."

I read that line last week and I have kept turning it over in my head.  I'm not sure how I feel about it.  In some ways, I suppose it is "in" to bash the Church, if that's what you want to call it.  Some people might even categorize my own writing this way.  But I don't think this "bashing" is always wrong.  Honest critiques of the Church have helped it to grow and change in good ways.

Some of these critiques have come from voices that were formerly voiceless, including women and racial minorities.  As these groups have spoken up, it has been beautiful.  Together we are achieving a more robust and honest version of the Church.

Other critiques are coming from those who have been hurt and, yes, even abused in the church.  People are realizing for the first time that they weren't the only one.  That they aren't alone.  They are standing up, crying for justice, and calling for change.  Again, beautiful.  And necessary.

Yet I know what that comment was getting at.  Even though I believe that there is a place for critiquing the Church, I want to be sure that I am celebrating the Church as well.

***

After I receive my communion wine and bread, I slip out the back door and to my son's classroom.  We're always the first ones to pick up our child because we love bringing him into "big church" with us for a few minutes.

As I enter the auditorium again, communion has ended and our Church is on their feet singing.

The song at the end is always my favorite, no matter which song we're singing.  Perhaps it is because we've just finished communion or because we just heard a compelling sermon.  But I think it might have to do with the fact that my son is there.

I love holding him in my arms and singing out.  I love seeing his eyes dart around the auditorium to see friends and to watch the musicians on stage.  I love standing together as a family and worshipping.  I love living out my faith in front of my son.

***

It is just a living room.  Yet something holy is happening there this night.

"We need help."

The words are simple, yet honest.  We rally around our friends.  We corral them in love.  We pray over them.

I stand far off, keeping an eye on the little ones who have wandered into the kitchen in search of mischief.  But as I look up, I see it:  the Church.

This is what the Church looks like.  A tangle of people, surrounding those who are weak in this moment.  Our small group isn't always this way, but tonight, tonight I can feel it.  Something is happening here.  I am glad to be apart of it.

***

That night six women came together from six different days and six different lives.  It was a "come as you are" night - as long as who you are was carrying food or wine.  Usually we meet with husbands and children, but tonight it was just us.

We filled our plates, then went back for seconds.  We finished the wine and had to search for more.

We sat and talked for hours, the conversation weaving together many topics.  We talked about parenting and marriage and dating and courting.  We talked about hurting for someone and about being hurt by someone.  We spoke.  We listened.  We disagreed at times.

I said I was leaving and, over an hour later, I finally made it out the door.  As I drove home that night I thought about these women and their families and how we've gotten to know them over the past year.  Together we've broken bread, babysat children, gone through trials, celebrated accomplishments and birthdays.  We are a small part of our local church which is an even smaller part of the universal Church.  But, together, we are the Church.

***

Sitting with a friend while our toddlers play, toys strewn around the room.

I am honest.  Deeply, vulnerably, embarrassingly honest.

She listens, then talks, then prays.  She is an agent of Christ as she ushers in healing.

It doesn't look like Church.  But it is Church.

***

I reach for my phone and try to discreetly take a picture.  Again.  And again, it doesn't turn out like I planned.

Our Church is taking communion and I want to capture the beauty of these sacred moments.  People stream from their seats and approach with outstretched hands to receive the Eucharist.  And it is b e a u t i f u l.

A picture could never do it justice.

***

Today I'm celebrating scenes from Church.  Do you have any to share?

So a post-evangelical walks into a Christian bookstore...

We left our Bibles at church one day, each thinking the other had grabbed them.  Our hands were full of the regular things (coats, a diaper bag, and a toddler clutching his coloring sheet) so we didn't realize we'd forgotten them at first.  Later, when we tried to retrieve them, they were nowhere to be found (this is one of the downfalls of church meeting in a middle school).

That bible had been special to me, a gift given by a sweet friend in college.  I didn't want to replace it because I wasn't ready to admit that it was actually gone.  But after a month or so, I gave in and told my husband with a sigh that I was ready to buy a new one.

"We'll need to find a Christian book store."  I was not enthusiastic.

"Look on Amazon." He suggested.

Caleb knows that I prefer to shop online for most things, so I know he was trying to be kind.  But you simply can't buy a Bible online.  At least, I can't.  I have to hold it in my hands and feel its weight.  I need to be sure there is enough room to underline and write in the margin.  I want to turn the tissue-papery pages and feel the leather cover.  (Of course, it is a luxury to be this choosy about a new Bible, but since I was paying money for one, I wanted it to be the right one)

As much as I dreaded it, I had to go to a Christian bookstore.

There was a time when I loved Christian bookstores.  It used to be my place.  After all, I love books and I love Jesus.  Surely this was the perfect combination.  But my faith has changed over the past few years.  I have fought with (and against) Christianity.  I have struggled to find a place in the Church and struggled even more at finding my voice within the Church.

Part of me wanted Christian bookstores to still be my place.  To go back to a time when Christianity was easy and comfortable.  When I didn't have so many questions.  Or (more accurately) when I just didn't ask those many questions.

But I went anyway, begrudgingly, but knowing that it would probably be good for me.

As I pushed open the doors I remembered what I disliked about these stores: it was Christianity commercialized.  Kitschy plates and figurines.  Bible verses snatched from their contexts to be embroidered on bags and t-shirts.  "Christian romance" books.  Little bits of Jesus packaged up into bland communion wafers.  Books and movies were tidily arranged, but I couldn't help but think of the Christian publishing world and how it isn't always so Christ-like.

I located the Bible section, and soon was opening up the boxes to find the right one.  A few aisles up, I noticed that they had a section for Catholic Bibles, unusual for these types of bookstores.  I nodded with silent approval.

Tired of my search for the right Bible, my toddler son raced down the aisles, his internal GPS lead him straight to the very thing I had tried so hard to avoid: the singing vegetables.

"Come on, kiddo!  Mama needs your help to pick one!" I said, scooping him into my arms.

As I carried him back, I kept an eye on the shelves we passed.  This bookstore surprised me.  All the kitsch was there (of course).  But so too were Bibles containing the Apocrypha.  And cards for the saints.  And toys that weren't outwardly religious.  The line between sacred and secular was just a little thinner here.  The lines separating denominations were less noticeable as well.  I liked that.

I said before that I struggled to find a place in the Church.  But that statement wasn't completely correct.  I am struggling to find a place in the Church.  Present tense.

I know when I'm not welcome somewhere and it feels easier to slink out the backdoor, unnoticed, than try to fit in.  I don't want to make a scene, so when I disagree with someone at Church, my natural tendency is to brood silently and then leave to find a place where I am accepted.  I haven't actually done that yet, but I have thought about it more than once.

That bookstore brought me a bit of hope, in a strange way.  Walking in, I was sure that the store was going to fit a narrow demographic of Christians.  A demographic that didn't include me.

Deep down, I think I'm waiting for someone to tell me that I'm not a Christian if I hold to certain beliefs.  Or at least not the right kind of Christian.  That seems like a silly, irrational fear, but, truthfully, many Churches and Christians would classify me that way.

The bookstore gave me hope because it was a small sign that evangelicalism might be changing.  That there might be room for ecumenism.  That there might be room for me.
 

parenting as a post-evangelical

My son is young.  18 months, in fact.  He's just moved out of the nursery and into the toddler class at church.  Each week when we pick him up, we now receive a coloring sheet that coordinates with the lesson from that morning.  Never mind that our son actually doesn't color much, his sheet always come back with a few scribbles.  (I have a suspicion that a kind teacher is the one responsible for those scribbles!  And to that I say, God bless our ever-patient teachers who works with a room full of busy toddlers!)

Perhaps it's silly, but those coloring sheets represent one of my struggles with parenting: what do I teach my son about God?

I was raised in a world of Awana, Adventures in Odyssey, Veggie Tales, sword drills, and elaborate VBS programs.  I learned isolated verses and isolated stories.  I was told that this (very confusing) book was actually God's love letter to me.  I sang about being "a C, a C-H, a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N" and about "O-B-E-D-I-E-N-C-E" being the very best way to show that I believed.  (side note: speaking for all poor spellers, why did churches require so much spelling in their songs??)

I didn't just learn these things: I taught them too.  I spent two years in a Christian ministry teaching little ones about things like instant obedience and the umbrella of protection.  And, at that time, I really believed that I was teaching them truth.

Before I go further, perhaps I should clarify: this isn't a criticism of my parents, Sunday school teachers, or VBS leaders**.  I know that they all had the best of intentions.  But as my faith has evolved, I have realized that I am no longer comfortable receiving the pat answers and equally uncomfortable giving them.

Here's the problem, those pat answers, those cliches and platitudes, they are the script I know.  I am fluent in Christian-ese, but even more so in childhood Christian-ese.  I know the songs (complete with hand motions), I know the verses about obedience, I know the overly simplistic applications from stories like Jonah and the not-whale.  These are comfortable and familiar for me.

It's one thing to change my own views and wrestle with my faith.  It's quite another to figure out what to teach my son.

Right now, the best way I know how to teach my son about God is to live out my faith honestly in front of him.

I want my son to love God.  And I want him to have a big, big picture of God and of what He is doing in the world.  I want to teach him about hermeneutics, that there is more than one way to interpret a verse and that that's okay.  I want him to know that we can disagree with denominations and yet still be united in Christ.  I want him to see that my husband and I have a growing, questioning faith, and that we disagree about some theology, but that it doesn't make the other one "less than".

I don't want to shy away from hard questions or give trite answers to things that I totally don't understand (which seems to be a lot of things).  I want to tell him that I don't understand many parts of the Bible and that it doesn't mean I am having a crisis of faith.  And I don't want to shut down discussions by concluding that "God's ways are higher than our ways" so we just shouldn't worry about it.

Lately, faith for me has been getting down in the figurative mud and wrestling.  It hasn't been pretty or clean or dignified.  But it has been honest and sincere.  I want so badly for my son to see this in my life.

I know this isn't comfortable to read.  I know that some people will read this and think I am a horrible, God-forsaking parent.  But I timidly would like to speak up for myself and say that I am not.  I'm studying and seeking and trying to do the very best to teach my son a full picture of God.  I'm just not sure I can tell him pat answers to things I don't even understand and teach him verses hijacked from their context.

This parenting thing is HARD.

This Christianity thing is HARD.

Put those two really-hard-things together?

Whew!  I think, in the most sincere sense, I could use some prayers.




**It IS a criticism of youth groups because to this day I get the heebie-jeebies thinking about church youth groups.  To anyone stuck in a youth group now, I have one message: IT GETS BETTER.