We should name our walls

Yesterday I was watching "The Pillars of the Earth" Mini-series.  The story is set in the medieval England when struggles for power, wealth and revenge were brutal, secret, and led by swords.  The town of Kingsbridge is going to be attacked...this will not be the first time.  They get a few days warning and decided to build a wall to help protect their people, homes, and fleece (the main staple).  It isn't a pretty wall.  It isn't substantial as city walls go, but it helps.  The attackers are confused and more vulnerable when the town erects a wall to keep them out.   The wall gives the townspeople what they needed to protect themselves to live and survive another day. 

Walls are important for safety.  Walls can help to delay those on the outside from coming in too quickly before we are sure we are ready.  But sometimes I find that walls do such a great job of keeping people out, that they keep people out who are welcome and would help if they came in.  I have yet to meet someone that didn't have a few walls put up.  Walls are defenses that help us to manage our vulnerability with the people in our lives.  They are good as long as we know what they are and when it is appropriate to let them down.  When we are too comfortable with keeping our walls up it is like we invite a third person into a relationship.  One who monopolizes the conversation, is oblivious to the feelings of others, and makes it really hard for the other two to get past the surface of their relationship to something deeper.  In the end the very walls created to help, to protect, and to enhance our ability to determine who we will let in, can be the things that keep us from the relationships of depth, care and love that we hope for.

I wonder what it would be like if we named our walls?  If we were even a little more aware of the things we do to protect ourselves and were able to speak of them, would that help us to consider the best times to let them come down?  Would we be able to see opportunities to trust the people in our lives with the unprotected us?  It's a hard thing to vulnerable.  We risk being hurt.  We risk hurting the people who honor us by letting down their walls with us.  But without those risks relationship cannot go past a certain point.  Wouldn't it be great if before seeing a friend you could say, "by the way, Shirley the "last time it didn't work out" wall and Bob the "what if you see the real me and don't like me" are coming with me.  Maybe it would make no difference but I know that when I work to be more aware of what I bring into any relationship...I am more able to consciously choose when to take down a wall or two.  It can be really scary but it also can result in better, deeper relationships where I am safe to be who I am.

This isn't a practice that should be taken lightly...taking down walls should be done carefully and with people will take the time to learn and grow with us.  But if we never pay attention to our walls we might miss opportunities of letting in the people who will give us the most and help us to see ourselves with more grace and love.  Imagine the possibilities and let a wall or two crumble so you can build something more... 

Treading Holy Ground...the Divine and me!

 “This is amazing,” Moses said to himself. “Why isn’t that bush burning up? I must go see it.” When the Lord saw Moses coming to take a closer look, God called to him from the middle of the bush, “Moses! Moses!”  “Here I am!” Moses replied.“Do not come any closer,” the Lord warned. “Take off your sandals, for you are standing on holy ground.  I am the God of your father—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” When Moses heard this, he covered his face because he was afraid to look at God.  Then the Lord told him, “I have certainly seen the oppression of my people in Egypt. I have heard their cries of distress because of their harsh slave drivers. Yes, I am aware of their suffering.  So I have come down to rescue them from the power of the Egyptians and lead them out of Egypt into their own fertile and spacious land. It is a land flowing with milk and honey—the land where the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites, and Jebusites now live.  Look! The cry of the people of Israel has reached me, and I have seen how harshly the Egyptians abuse them.  Now go, for I am sending you to Pharaoh. You must lead my people Israel out of Egypt.”   Exodus 3:3-10 (MSG)


I grew up in holy places...and so did you.  Holiness is inherent by God whose presence is Holy.  So in the places of our lives where God is, which I believe is everywhere, we find ourselves on holy ground. The story of Moses and the burning bush always comes to mind when I hear the words "holy ground."  And I remember that God tells Moses to remove his shoes.

I'm a barefoot kind of girl.  (Ask my mom and she'll tell you that growing up it wasn't rare to find me without my shoes and socks on at any time of the year.)  I always loved visiting our friends with the practice of taking shoes off at the door.  It was, for me, like a fancy treat to walk around barefoot in some else's home.  Something about it made me feel like I was "at home" there.  I am sure it was a practical thing to keep the floors clean but when you think about it...there is an implied intimacy to inviting people to remove their shoes in your home.  Instead of the impersonal shoe touching your floors, the person touches them.  The connections are made and illuminated when we make ourselves "at home."

Now back to Moses, I always thought that it was disrespectful to walk on the holy ground with sandals...but what if it was an invitation for closeness.  Imagine how different it is to touch the ground barefooted.  It's risky on the gravel, hot pavement in the summer, and in the woods with who knows how many branches and other things just waiting to stick you (no pun intended).  What if it was a way to connect more fully with God in the moments of the burning bush conversation?  What if it was God's way of saying find yourself "at home" with me?

 So in the stories about people walking on holy ground and taking off their sandals I imagine that they too had a sense of finding themselves "at home."  Although to be honest the thought of being "at home" with the Divine although amazing...also makes me a little wary of what I will be invited to do.  I know God to be radical and loving in ways that call me out of my comfort and into an amazing freedom of finding abundant life.  God has rarely invited me into the life I expected but I have always found that God's ideas were better than anything I could have imagined.  So I have learned and am learning still to let go of what I expect and to live into what God intends.

I want to be close to the Divine.  So shoes off and toes down...holy ground here I am, where do we go from here?

I'd rather be...where?

So I am sitting here in a coffee shop, reflecting on the many things that I am waiting to understand.  What's next and how do I get there?  For a person who loves to have a plan I am not much for waiting...but here I am doing just that.  

In the beginning of December, I spent the weekend working with the Regional Youth Council of the Mid-States of the Moravian Church-Northern Province (wow that is a long title...)  to plan Tar Hollow Senior High Summer Camp.  With the theme of "I'd Rather Be," camp will be thought provoking to say the least.  Interesting that I am already provoked by the theme and as I sit here waiting...I'd rather not be waiting anymore!  As we brainstormed about possible biblical characters or narratives that speak to the theme of "I'd Rather be" some of my favorites came up: Moses, Esther, Jonah, Jesus...the list went on for a while.  Of people for whom the call of God was not exactly what they expected or what they might have chosen if it had been their plan.

So as I wait, I wonder if they were like me, waiting for God to give direction or if they were blissfully unaware until the time came to change direction?   Take Moses for example, after being a prince of Egypt turned son-in-law sheep herder.  I imagine out there with the sheep gave him lots of time to think.  Did he long for the intrigue and excitement of his former home or was he content with the slower pace of the wilderness?  Was the burning bush, although frightening in its awe-fullness a welcome adventure even as tremendous doubts about the call at hand came to the surface? Moses, although a self-professed bad speaker, seemed to be quick on the uptake with his refute of God's plan.  (Good news for me on my most snarky days :) )  Moses was pretty clear about the holes in God's idea of a strategy to free the people of Israel.  And yet he came away from his encounter with "I AM" ready for a journey that promised more days of uncertainty and insecurity.   I am not Moses but when I think of it...I would rather have been anywhere but there if I were in his sandals.


So how in the world did Moses get it together...what kind of thoughts helped him take the next steps to follow along with God's plan even though it seemed like a crazy shot in the dark?

I imagine that Moses like many others before and after him followed God's direction not because it made sense to him but because he trusted that God knew more about EVERYTHING that was going on  that any human being could.  I can only imagine the courage that it took for Moses to put it all on the line, to risk sounding crazy to those closest to him, and to become "that guy" with the ludicrous ideas about freeing slaves and some promised land that most people had given up on long ago. 

As a child it seemed clear to me that Moses made the right choice and I wondered how anyone could choose not to follow God's plan...enter 29 year old Rebecca who finds herself facing one of those decisions that seems to be the choice between something safe, predictable, and reasonable or some half-baked idea that God may have some plan for my life.   A plan that may not look anything like I thought, but it will be an amazing journey of the unexpected and joyful realities that come with taking step in line with the God of Justice and Love that has so formed my life up to this point.  It is still difficult to have the same kind of blind trust of my 8 year old self.  She knew that there is no reason not to take the path of God but now I can feel the tension of waiting that weighs so heavily I can understand taking the safe route of the expected because the alternative is risky and scary.  It's tempting that's for sure... 

That 8-year old still speaks her unabashed truth that following God is the only right choice, may her courage and tenacity help me to listen and follow in the way God invites me to go.

Floating 101

When I was little, we were members of a neighborhood pool. We went almost everyday during the summer to play and swim. As soon as I was big enough to learn I took swimming lessons...you know so I could finally go into the deep end ;). It was such a big deal to be able to go into all of the sections of pool, but it took some effort. You had to earn the privilege of swimming in the deep end and jumping off the diving board.

I remember learning to swim was a series of kicking, floating, doggie paddling, and putting those things together to move in the water, which some people like to refer to as “swimming.” I really loved my lessons until we got to floating. I just wasn't sure about it. I mean how was I gonna be able to float? What if I sunk under the water? It just didn't make sense to let go of the edge or my teacher to float in the water. I was scared of what it would feel like to be untethered. To be moving with the water without giving input into the direction I would go. I remember totally freaking out! I didn't trust it and almost decided to give up because I couldn't imagine how this floating thing would actually work. I wanted to be able to skip it and was a little miffed that I had to to learn it anyway...what did my teacher know about swimming? Swimming was about getting some place in the water...people didn't need to know how to not go places in the water! But I stuck it out since I really wanted to be able to go to the deep end. I can certainly see now that I was a little over-zealous about my knowledge and experience...

For a little background...I like to go fast, to see things change, and to hold some semblance of control over my environment. I am pretty sure that has been the case forever and the 4 year old me...struggled with floating for the same reasons that I do now when life calls for a time of letting the current carry me. My natural desire is to be in control. To know where I am going and to be in charge of getting there. But the thing about swimming in the deep end that my teacher knew and I did not was that sometimes we aren't able to swim; the current my be moving too quickly, you might be too tired, or you might just want to enjoy a few moments of sky gazing. As a child I didn't know that part of learning to swim was being equipped to survive in the water when swimming wasn't possible. Thankfully my teacher did know that at different points I would need to float and so she made sure I would know how.

Lately in life it feels like I have been swimming in the deep end. I long ago took lesson on the basics of life and have been practicing. So I dove in and started making some waves...who would have known that living life could be so wonderfully exhausting? I took on the task of getting myself from point A to point B—stopping to play some Marco/Polo and discovering some other people who have a similar direction in mind for themselves. For awhile things were great...but I'd be lying if said I haven't gotten tired. All this swimming has taken a lot of energy but now I am out in the middle of the depths. I am not interested in going back to the edge but I need to take a break before I can continue forward. So I go back to the basics and remember that practice of floating. I can release my grasp...my “control” on the direction I am moving and just be carried for awhile. I can trust the rhythm and current to hold me up while I rest and take in the view.

Even as I write this the idea of letting go seems so appealing but I still struggle to do it. That same feeling I got when I learned how to float in the swimming pool calls forth a stubbornness of wanting to be in charge of where I go and how I get there. The idea of allowing myself to be taken there is frightening and reminds me of my own inability to control everything around me, even when I'm not floating. Even if I kept swimming my hardest at some point I would be so exhausted that I couldn't go forward any more or worse that could be the end of it all. So why not take a moment now to float...to take it all in and gain my bearings? So I stop kicking, stretch out my arms, and turn my head to sky and breath. There isn't anything for me to hold onto but I am held up despite myself and have the time to see the beauty around me which is often obscured as I move through the water with focus and attention on the goal. I am pretty sure that the practice of letting go is one that will always take some effort on my part but each time I loosen my grasp and float I see the wisdom of my old swim teacher. Some times when we are in the deep end all we can do is breath and be held by the current that will give us the rest we need to continue diving deeper into life.

Songs of the Heart

Music has a way of infiltrating our souls...calling out to something deep within us.  It is akin to magic, the ways in which we resonate with one another and God. 

There is quote about friendship that goes something like, "A friend is someone who knows the song of your heart and will sing it to you when you have forgotten the words."  The songs of our hearts are some of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard, from those who invite to listen to them.  I am always astounded at the trust that others put in me to hold and learn the songs of their hearts, for I know how hard it has been for me at times to share my own song with another.  It is a frightening thing to let our songs fly forth into the world.  For there are those, who for many different reasons, may squander the gift of the songs we sing.  There are, however, people to whom our song arrives and finds a home.  This gift is indescribable!  How can we begin to understand the ways in which our hearts speak to one another...reason, I'm afraid has yet to explain it.

I think of these songs tonight because I had the opportunity to sing for a friend today--her song of joy and hope.  Reminding me of the times that she too has sung my song to me.  How easily we can lose the rhythm and cadence of our heart-songs for the sake of dreams and worries and doubts and busy-ness...

I wonder at my feeble attempt here to honor the joy and gratitude I feel for those who know my song because I have shared it with them and for those who so desire to know my song that they seek it out.  Sort of like Ariel in "The Little Mermaid," our songs define us, reach out to the ones we love and draw them to us.  As all the songs begin to mingle together there is a new sort of harmony.  A holy choir that sings with such passion and hope that it changes the world simply by being heard. 

When I am not sure of much, which seems to happen an awful lot...I am sure that the songs sang for me and by me are filled with the truth of God's love for all creation.  That God's song reaches out and draws us closer.  As we grow in likeness to God we too begin to sing a song of such powerful and amazing love that it changes us and the world around us. 

Thank you to all those who know my song and sing it when I have forgotten the words.  And thank you to those who entrust to me the holy task of learning to sing your songs. 

Moravian Momma...a story (Part 1)

One gorgeous day last summer a few friends and I sat around a table on an outdoor patio.  We were having a great time watching the traffic and enjoying the food before us.  At one point I told them a story about being out and having someone holla at me from the window of their car.  I was on the phone with my Momma and in the retelling I included that I said, into the phone, "Momma, I just got holla'd at."  As the story ended, the table erupted with laughter..after that had some what subsided, my friend said, "the funniest part of that story is that you referred to yourself in the third person as Momma!"--with that the table went quiet and erupted with laughter again as the rest of us laughed that Lisa had misheard me when I said I was on the phone.  Needless to say, it was a funny day and has continued to shape conversations, picture captions (I believe there is a facebook album of Hot Mommas), and discussions of if what Lisa heard was really so far from reality.  I must admit that I don't usually talk to myself about myself in third person--but if I ever feel inclined I am definitely going to use "Momma."  :)  With every laugh that has resulted over the past year because of this one story telling escapade I marvel at how it has become an identifying and unifying experience for our little gang. 


So I got to thinking about our stories.  The ones we tell, the ways they are heard, how new stories build off the old, and how our identities are shaped and change along with our stories.  There are many layers of truth, hope, sorrow, inspiration,and direction in our stories.  It is in the living, telling, retelling and listening that each of us is invited to shape others' stories and to be shaped by their engagement with our own.  It amazes me that stories from my childhood resonate in my adult life and continue to form me as I integrate the lessons of the past with present experience and the hope of the future.

Recently I have been privileged to have some inspiring conversations with Moravian clergy and friends.  In many denominational circles the conversations of tradition and communal identity are key to understanding the roles we play and the ways we engage with one another and more importantly** the world around us.  Growing up in a Moravian pastor's house left me no chance of getting out of being shaped by the Moravian story...which by the way is far too long for this particular blog post, i would be glad to point you towards further reading if you so desire.  One of the most interesting things about growing up has been living into and through the stories that shaped me, shaping them and starting some new tales along the way.

Like the story telling experience last summer some stories actually show their value when they are misheard or incomplete.  We happen into new ideas that lead us further along the path of discovery.  The beauty of the stories that shape us is only partly in the story itself and partly in the experiences of its telling.  What are your stories?  Who would you like to tell your story too?  What might becoming part of your future story as you live it right now?

Sometimes we are too quick to write the endings of stories before we get a chance  to experience the changes that add laughter, hope and joy as friends add their own marks to who we are and who we are becoming through story and its telling. 

(**author's emphasis and opinion)

BEautiful!

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder...why don't more of us behold beauty?

I have a friend who used to regularly greet me by saying, "hello beautiful!"  This was often accompanied with a smile and hug...I knew she meant it.  I would not say that before that I had a bad self image but something about hearing that word associated with me on a regular basis gave me the extra push I needed to really see what she saw and to celebrate the beauty I beheld in the mirror each morning.

The thing I learned was not that I didn't need to be active, eat well, and consider what choices I make to feel better and look better.  But I learned that most of what I see is up to me...that is true about all kinds of beauty.  I sometimes look at crumbling buildings around town and see a beautiful image of use and life in community.  Sometimes I see the opportunities for renewal which are also beautiful, new life just waiting to be embraced by someone with the vision to see other possibilities.  


Lately I have had a number of conversations about how amazing it is to meet someone who believes that they are beautiful.  The self esteem debate has been going on a long time.  So what are the things that make for a self-confident person?  I have been giving this a lot of thought...partly because I really do believe I am beautiful and mostly because I see so much beauty in the people and the world around me that is dismissed.  It is hard to know how to help friends and others see beauty in themselves...beauty that is so evident to me.  So the struggle isn't how to see beauty but how to help one another see it in ourselves.

As someone who is fortunate enough to see beauty when I look into the mirror and in those around me I wondered about what makes me different?  I had a friend ask me what I thought had produced my embrace and happiness with myself.  After some reflection, I think that my parents gave me the most by celebrating who I was becoming, reminding me that God made me just the way I was, and by loving me regardless of the awkward growing phases and the fluctuations of health, weight, and activity.  I have never doubted their love for me and the value that they believe I have as a part of God's creation.  That is VERY important because things like guilt, fear, shame, and distrust seem to lead many of us to places of self-destruction, secrecy, and harmful cycles of bad habits.

There is plenty of information that is included in the "nurture" debate.  But my parents weren't the only ones...friends who went out of the way to let me know they appreciated me and valued my presence in their lives gave me so much as I learned what it was like to be loved and cared for.  I have been fortunate to have people in my life that made it a priority to share their love for me in overt and subtle ways that proved to create a foundation for loving acceptance of myself and the beauty that is all over the world! 

I don't know how to reproduce the things that I feel have given me the openness to see beauty in myself and others except for each of us to remind those around us of their beauty and works to change the way of beholding one another as we recognize all that is beautiful, valuable and loved! 

"Kindness in words creates confidence. / Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. / Kindness in giving creates love… / Perfect kindness acts without thinking of kindness."

-  Laozi, 570-490 BCE