Can we still be friends?

-Stephanie

P.S. You can find me back at home: come what may

My fear of being hurt can be controlled by me – by how close I let people get.

So as I think about chipping away at this wall, of letting go of this control, I cannot help but ask myself why? Why do I have to do this? Why is it important to be vulnerable with others? Why do I need to? What are the benefits?

Any thoughts?

I have the opportunity to take advantage of free counseling that the seminary provides for students. My counselor is an intern going through the Masters in Counseling program, and her time with me is part of her degree. I’ve had nine sessions with her, and I’ve found her to be insightful, thought provoking, and just really good at what she does. But had my counseling really helped me very much? Not really. It helped me understand myself a little better, helped me get over not being willing to talk to another about my struggles, but that was about it.

Then God kicked me in the can.

In one of my classes I am learning about my identity as a leader in the church. Last week our reading had a chapter about “understanding your tuning” i.e., knowing what your triggers are and figuring out why they are a triggers and learning to cope with them. In this context, I found myself wondering why I so frequently have overly emotional responses to things that aren’t a very big deal. So as I began to examine my tuning, I found myself thinking about the last time I reacted strongly to a situation that didn’t merit it. It involved a professor making me feel as though I didn’t take a personality test right I found myself frustrated and dejected, even though everything I knew about this professor told my head that he didn’t mean to make me feel that way. But I did feel that way.

Here comes the hard part, because it’s awful and sad and cliché:

I grew up with two parents who regularly critiqued me for a poor performance – whether it was how I made the bed, how I vacuumed the living room, or how I sang my solo on Sunday morning or baked that bread for 4-H. This became so painful for me that I remembered asking them, after they would yell or critique me, if they still loved me. They typically dismissed my question as silly and moved on to the next thing.

So yes, my counselor led me to blaming my parents for my trouble. See what I mean by cliché?

But the trouble is still there. My heart explodes in fear and panic whenever I am criticized. When something I plan doesn’t go perfectly, I beat myself up. I realize that many, if not all people experience a measure of this, so maybe I’m not all that special. But these emotions have debilitated me unnecessarily. Parents are right to correct their children to help them do better the next time, but they are not to make their child’s worth lie in success. And even if my parents’ intent was never to do that, their reaction to my emotional response should never have been dismissive or disapproving of my emotions. The combination of the two have led me down a path of many years spent in sorrow for my failure, fear of being seen as incompetent, and a stunted ability to grow as a person.

So now what? Typically after I process through something this significant in my life, like this, naming it is enough for me. Or, more accurately, what I thought was the end of the road. Not that I would still experience the pain in some way, but naming it was what allowed me to move on. But I can’t do that now.

My counselor mention in our last session that she thought I was moving on too quickly from things that were painful and difficult. When I asked her what else I needed to do, she didn’t give me any answers (as good counselors do). She asked me to think about how I was emotionally attached or not attached to a situation that was difficult for me. She told me she didn’t think I was “sitting in the emotion” long enough to understand it or process it. (Did I mention she did this before I realized why I am triggered by the slightly hint of criticism?)

So, in short, here is the timeline: a professor triggered me. The next week my counselor asked me to think about why I consistently move on from difficult things (using the situation with my professor as her example). Five days later I read the chapter on “knowing your tuning” and that same day I examined the trigger and realize all this stuff about the way I was parented. To say that God was providential in this is an understatement.

This is the first thing, I believe, in my life where I’ve “grieved the loss”. I’ve spent the last seven days crying at the very thought of how hard it was to feel unloved as a child when I screwed up. I’ve grieved the loss of a joyful childhood where I could have felt delighted in by my father and loved unconditionally by my mother. I’ve grieved the loss of what I thought was a great relationship with my parents to one that is full of sugarcoated thoughts because I’ve buried this for so long.
As self-indulgent and whiny as this feels, I don’t care. This is the first time I’ve feel like I’m experiencing life rather than just going through the motions.

Those are just the simple, logistical aspects of what I’ve experienced, never mind a dozen other little things like conflict with a logo I designed for a church ministry event, a tough meeting establishing rules for the church newsletter which I design, an major “ethical” decision I had to make regarding said newsletter, and all the church politics that go along with that. Needless to say, I’m feeling a little like I’m on sensory overload when it comes to the grey areas of my life.

Something I don’t take enough time to do in my life is process. When something tough, emotional or otherwise, hits me I usually have two reactions – fight or flight. I retreat when I am not sure about how to deal with a situation. I fight when I’ve had to time to think, understand and evaluate that has happened. Both reactions typically make me appear quite cold-hearted and detached from the world and from people. Sometimes I intend to be that way, most of the time I don’t. Every time it does happen, I have no desire to hurt those around me. But I do, and many times without even being aware of it. And it kills me knowing I’ve hurt someone in the process.

One major area of thought I’m experiencing right now is my identity in ministry. What is my role as the leader? How can I remain objective without appear cold-hearted? How can I love tough people well? How can I be friends with those I lead without being so emotionally involved that I can’t see the dysfunction or sin in their lives?  These very large questions are just a couple floating around in my mind as I seek to understand how to lead well within the framework of who I’m already hard-wired to be. I feel as though I’m consistently fighting against what is natural to me (and the RightPath4 and RightPath6 leadership personality test more or less confirmed what I already knew about myself,) I am left wondering what I can do to get rid of these awful, nasty feelings of trying to do what I should vs. doing what comes naturally to me… and how to stop my natural instincts from overtaking in high-stress situations.

With so many thing flying around in my head and my heart, I feel as though I’m struggling to survive, much less think, process and understand everything I need to think, process and understand. (Much less find time.) The three classes I have this semester plus my internship are not tough intellectually, but they require a lot of time to fully understand and apply. That’s killing me right now, and it feels like there is no end in sight. So I’m left just standing in the messiness of my heart, my sin and my life, unable to be objective and probably being too hard on myself. My feelings of inadequacy are overwhelming everything, and any encouragement I get simply makes me feel undeserving. It feels like a loose-loose situation, and I’m drowning in a pool with the heaviest woool sweater I own on my back.

This is part of my processing, I realize. I’m just so completely unsure of what step to take next.

Whose to tell how one hits the mark and the other doesn’t? My mood? The company I’m with? The environment? I don’t know. It’s simply a puzzle to me.

The Time Traveler’s Wife is a simple story. And when the story is simple, you rely heavily on the depth of the characters and their relationships with each other to draw you in.  That somewhat easier to do in a book than it is to do on screen with a limited amount of time.  I think that’s what was missing for me in this – the nature of the story meant telling things backwards, which is fine, except that the story is about their relationship. Watching it unfold for one person backwards, while for another it’s already happened is tricky business.

Rachel McAdams is as likable as always, and the two actors that play her daughter are delightful. I’m on the fence for Eric Bana’s performance… I felt Ron Livingston upstaged him as the best friend.

The best part of the movie for me was the soundtrack. Lo’ How A Rose  E’er Blooming is the focus of the compositions, and its melody recurs several times throughout the movie without every getting old. (It doesn’t hurt that it’s my favorite Christmas Carol, either, I’m sure.)

I don’t have a ratings system here, but if I did, I would give it  two thumbs sideways. The movie was just…. “eh”.

I know very little about the Men’s Fraternity – only what their marketing department writes for churches to use in advertising the program. There is a lot of talk about the “quest for manhood” and “authentic manhood” and in the most article in the church’s newsletter  “masculine spirituality”.

These terms seem strange to me, because I almost feel like it makes men believe two things: 1.) they are currently not man enough and 2.) men have their own version of the gospel/spirituality. This disturbs me a little.

The first one disturbs me because, while I believe all people need to grow, I don’t like the idea of the specific connotation that men should grow in their “manhood”. I’m am constantly trying to figure out how to be the best version of myself I am be, only a very small part of that is compartmentalized by the label “woman”.  Most of what I am growing in is becoming more like Christ …(uh, oh. He’s a man. Does that mean I’m becoming more like a man? Maybe I need to start my own Women’s Fraternity and make sure that I don’t become like Jesus too much. I don’t want a beard or anything.)

Do you see the conundrum? One of the most compelling questions posed to me recently on the issue of gender roles was this: the 10th commandment says “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his male servant, or his female servant, or his ox, or his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor’s.” (Ex. 20:17, ESV). Then 1 Timothy 3:2-3 says “Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable hospitable, able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money.” The question was posed as this: Why is it that we automatically take our 10th commandment, which uses gender specific language, to be gender-neutral, but we don’t do the same in the 1 Timothy passage? The man who posed this question addressed the issue of Hebrew vs. Greek, context, etc, and I found his argument strong. This makes me want to blow off the 10th commandment and let myself off the hook for coveting, because I’m not a man. (Just like the 1 Corinthians passage commanding men to examine themselves before they eat. Guess I’m off the hook for that one, too.)

When we read gender-specific scriptures, most of the time can make the adjustments in our minds that just because the masculine word used is the default, we understand it applies to us females as well. But why stop short on some issues, like leadership? Doesn’t this beg some pretty thought-provoking questions?

Many women on the egalitarian side of the fence say to me, “This isn’t about power. I don’t want to exert “power” over the church in leadership. This is about my gifting and what God has called me to do.” That’s fair, I think – all issues of interpreting a calling correctly aside.

Then there’s the argument: “When Jesus came, he reconciled every issue in the Fall EXCEPT this one?” Also a fair question. A counter to that I recently had to read for a class was this: “Jesus broke a lot of traditions of the time. Why not that one? Why not make a woman part of the 12 disciples?”

The issue of context and culture is a huge one, and became much more real to me in one of my summer classes, where we examined theologies of interpreting scripture such as synchronic vs. diachronic, minimalist vs. the maximalist, etc, … all things most people won’t understand, but would benefit from recognizing in dealing these kinds of issues.

I am thankful my call is not to the pulpit. If it was I would be a very torn woman. I believe in reformed theology, I believe that God created us, we fell, God redeemed us, and we will be glorified one day. I believe it’s wrong to devalue any human being no matter their gender, race, political beliefs or lifestyle. I believe we should reach out to the poor and help heal the sick. I believe I am forgiven of my sins. But I also believe there are women more capable then men and men that are more capable the woman. Why do we insist on assigning roles and labels to these capability issues?

I have a dear complementarian friend who asked me the question, “Why are you assuming roles are bad?” My answer was, “If my role as a woman is labeled as it’s better for me to teach children than to teach an adult Sunday school class, than “assigning me a role” is bad. I don’t have the gift of teaching children. You don’t want to put me there – it will be a disaster. But I do have the gift of teaching. Being told to suppress my gift because of my gender is unacceptable. Especially when a less capable man is doing the teaching.”

I read an article once that claimed that there are more qualified women than men, but that God will provide a qualified man to lead.  Maybe so.  So then my gift of teaching is to be wasted, then?

So where does that leave us? Truthfully, it leaves me with the oldest question in the book. Why?

There are a lot of rules in the Bible; there are a lot of good things God wants us to do that don’t come naturally to us. And the majority of them have a great reason behind them – like saving yourself for marriage. The reason is that sex is best and most fulfilling when enjoyed with someone you genuinely love and is committed to you. What about the rule of the Sabbath? The reason is that it’s best for us physically and emotionally to recharge. What about that 10th commandment I mentioned earlier? It’s best not to for the sake of our hearts. Yada, yada. You see what I mean.

But the only “answer” I’ve heard to this issue is: “God designed it that way.”

If I am being really honest with myself, that’s not a reason satisfactory to my head or my heart. I’m just not sure it’s an complete answer to the questions surrounding this issue.

A fellow student here at the seminary, when asked what her plans were after she graduated, her actual response was, “Whatever the PCA will let me do.” That truly grieves my heart. The other night I tweeted “I hate being this sad” (I was having a particularly emotional PMS kind of moment, FYI) and I got two lovely replies back, one from a man I don’t know personally, but is friends with the second man.  Both are pastors in a denomination in favor of women leaders, would probably label themselves “egalitarian”, and I see in both of them a love and heart for working alongside people who want to further the kingdom of God – no matter their gender. In their replies to me, I felt valued. And I’ve come to realize that isn’t too much to ask for. After all, God values me.

I trust God. I really do. I also trust he’s given me a calling to teach. That’s a calling I’ve ran from for years, and now that I’m in seminary I know more than ever it’s right for me. But part of being here, at this seminary,  means two things: 1.) Most “Conservatives” don’t think enough of me because I’m a woman and 2.) Most “Liberals” don’t think enough of me because I’m not called to the pulpit. Neither one of those is fair and to be honest, I’m sick of it. That’s one of the reasons I appreciate that the denomination I’m currently a part of that has “in all things, charity” as part of its motto. (In essentials, unity… in non-essentials, liberty, in all things charity is the whole, by the way. I love it.)

The world is fallen. As a result, all things live in the grey and not the black and white. While my heart longs for the black and white – the easily understood issues and the straight and narrow path – that’s not what I get. I get the confusing and frustrating situations with the rough and rocky path.

There will be more to come on this, I promise. I miss having time to blog.

I’ve had it for almost a week now and I can’t stop listening. It’s incredible.

1.) The Public Space of Belonging
2.) The Social Space of Belonging
3.) The Personal Space of Belonging
4.) The Intimate Space of Belonging

Before I talk about these spaces, let me preface it by reminding you that Presbyterians… or maybe just the people around here, are really good at talking about their sin

There is pressure here for everyone to be in my intimate space of belonging. So much of it could be due to the season of life seminary is, but I am not really comfortable with that. As I realized this intimate space of belonging wasn’t what was actually bothering me, I started to look at relationships differently.

To define the different spaces…

The public space of belonging is about connecting with a broad movement. (Perhaps something like a Lion’s Club at the national level would be an example of this). This type of belonging does not require much participation, simply association with the movement. You may attend a meeting or two, but you do not invest time or money.

The social space of belonging is the next step, by connecting with groups of 70-120 people, called “neighbor relationships”. You share small talk and may be willing to do small favors for this group.

The personal space of belonging is defined by groups of 10 or 12. Such groups become close friends, share each others’ lives with one another, and they invest personal time and energy to see that the group succeeds.

The intimate space of belonging is the final level. To have two or three people in the space is normal, as it is where you “share ‘naked’ experience, feelings, and thoughts.” (pg 179).

We like to think we have intimacy with a person when we really don’t. We want to know about the person, their likes and dislikes, what’s going on in their life. We want to know their views on political and theological issues and we maybe even want to know how they are doing from day to day. But is this real intimacy? I don’t think so.

Real intimacy comes when your heart is laid bare, with all your glorious ruins out there for someone to see. Then beyond that they help you through what may be a great hurt in your life. They see you cry and scream and hate everyone, and are still there to walk alongside you when it’s over. This is what the author calls “refrigerator rights” – the people who can come into your home, go to the fridge and help themselves without asking or worrying you’ll be offended. The kind of people who you are willing to let see you without makeup and with your home a mess…

I recently deactivated my facebook account, for a period of about seven weeks (in the middle I came back for a few days, but then deactivated it again). I chose to do this because I was feeling some hard hits on my self-esteem as the community of people around the seminary were consistently talking about how great some of their get-togethers were, get-togethers to which I wasn’t invited. (That’s just one example… there were other things that bothered me, but they aren’t important now) I decided it wasn’t worth my self-esteem and gave facebook up. But this weekend I reactivated my account, and deleted nearly everyone of my seminary “friends”. (It came to around 60 or so people. Crazy.) Part of it was because of my self-esteem, but tonight I realized a much bigger reason why.

Real relationships with people, especially people who are close to me geographically is becoming more and important to me. Facebook is great for keeping in touch with loved ones far away, but I think we can use it as a replacement friendship with people we are around every day. Instead of calling or visiting someone to find out how their week was, I would just check their facebook page. This made me feel like I had real friendships with people who in all honestly I was merely acquaintances with.

I don’t want to have relationships like that. I don’t was a social space of belonging, because it’s too tempting to stop there. I have to push myself into personal and intimate spaces of belonging. I want people with refrigerator rights, I want people in personal and intimate space of belonging. These are the people who know how tired you are at the end of the day, the people who sit beside you on the couch and hold your hand when there are no words to say, the people who know what you’re thinking just by hearing the tone of your voice or the look in your eyes.

God help me be this kind of person, and help me not to resent those who aren’t willing to be that for me.

Who’d thought Regina Spector would have a hint of reformed faith in her music?

Carlos, over at ragamuffinsoul.com posted last night about leaving his great and wonderful job aa Creative Programming Director at Buckhead Church.

So, I’m going through my reader this morning, see the post and so I head over there to see what the deal is. Per usual, God is doing something awesome, and I won’t explain it here ‘cuase it’s too complicated.

But this exchange in the comments? Was a great way to start my day.

Sire’s comment: “Carlos, you are a brave man.”

Carlos’ reply: “No, Sire. Brave would be staying when God says go.”