Mother’s Day and the Polar Bear of Reawakening

Last week we were at my parents’ for Mother’s Day when my mom mentioned that she would have loved to have been a landscape architect. She’s mentioned this before, but she sounded sadder than usual this time. She also would have liked to be a meteorologist or a construction worker. However, she had a very strict mom who believed women could only be stay-at-home moms, teachers, nurses, or secretaries. My mom became a (kickass) stay-at-home mom, and later a secretary and then a cashier at a department store. She also has a front yard that strangers stop to admire, and she’s done every bit of planning and planting herself.

Mom always told me and my sisters that we could be anything we wanted to be. As I’ve written before, despite what Mom said, I never felt like I could be anything I wanted to be. But why? Even after I had a degree in my chosen field I had little confidence. Why?

Mother’s Day evening, back at home, for some reason I was thinking about some of the other messages I’d grown up hearing about women. We didn’t go to church except for a very short time when I was young, but American culture is steeped in church messages, and two things I remember knowing about being a girl were 1) I was only created because men needed companions (and I was supposed to feel proud of this), and 2) women were supposed to obey their husbands, while husbands were supposed to love their wives.

Suddenly I became furious with Paul, the unmarried author of the verses about wives submitting to their husbands. And I became furious with myself. My husband was not even a Christian when we married, and I put the burden of obedience on myself. My husband had no idea I was doing this to myself. I started attending a lovely little church where people would give you the shirt off their back and older, married women told me that I could tell my husband my opinions but he got to make the decision in the end. Some of these women had stayed with abusive husbands, so who was I to complain about letting my nonviolent husband make all the decisions?

Submitting to your husband is a concept of concretes. You either do what your husband says or you don’t. And I did, from spending money right down to the direction of the toilet paper roll. Loving your wife, however, is abstract and vague. Realizing this was really what made me furious with Paul. Husbands can say they love their wives, and that’s that. Show some love here and there, and voila. Wives submit day in, day out. Minute in, minute out. At one point I remember reading Proverbs 31:16 about the perfect wife who considers a field and buys it with her earnings. This wife seemed to have significant authority, but maybe it was easier for me not to contemplate too much.

Around the time our daughter was born, my husband started attending church with me. I was thrilled when he was baptized. I’m still thrilled he was baptized. But even though we were attending the same church, he says now that he’d had no idea that I was learning at my women’s groups that he got to make all the decisions. I’m sure he has no idea how many things I would have liked to have been different.

When I fell asleep after Mother’s Day, I had a dream. In the dream, I had some raw steaks. I wanted to put the steaks outside on a wooden table (or fencepost?) but I didn’t want the white bear to get them. I put the steaks out and kept an eye on them. Almost immediately, though, here came the white bear. (At this point in the dream my inner editor said “polar bears don’t live down here” and my subconscious mind said “shut up, it’s a symbol.”) The bear got one of the steaks, and I put out some more steaks and kept a closer eye on them. This time when I saw the bear I ran and grabbed the steaks before the bear could get to them.

When I awoke, I knew that the raw steaks represented my raw emotions. But what about the polar bear? Not sure I’d believe what I read there, I went to, a site I’ve enjoyed before. According to them, seeing a polar bear in your dream means a reawakening. I don’t know who decides these things, but I knew it made sense even before I made sense of it. Incidentally, raw emotion was one of the things they said raw meat symbolized.

I thought about my raw emotions. Do I want to leave my raw emotions out for all to see? Yes. I’ve been telling friends far more about my personal life than I ever did before. Lately I find I’m desperate to share my feelings. But what about the polar bear? In the dream I was afraid that the polar bear would get the steaks. Am I afraid that if I leave my emotions outside for all to see, it will lead to a reawakening?

I had to answer “yes” again.

And it hurt. Reawakening necessitates change. Change is scary.

Yesterday my friend posted on Instagram “Even on my worst day I’m deserving of hell.” This was one of the many moments recently that it was obvious how much I’ve already begun a reawakening and changed in the last year. My friend’s post was the kind of thing I used to think. But when I saw it on Instagram I said to myself “No! There is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus. I don’t want my religion to be about how terrible I am anymore. I don’t want my daughter to hate herself the way I’ve always hated myself.”

Thank God, when I told my daughter the other day that I’d been taught by other women that I could tell Daddy my opinions but he got to make the decisions, she said, “That doesn’t sound very fair!”

Every generation gets a little closer. My mom told us we could be anything we wanted even though she was told no such thing. My daughter might actually do it.

Come, polar bear of reawakening. Come back to my dreams, and I won’t be afraid of you this time.


A Hundred Answered Prayers

The idea for this blog entry came to me not as a blog entry, but as an anthology with many contributors from my town. I thought maybe the concept would take wing, and people from towns all over the world would create their own “A Hundred Answered Prayers” (A Hundred Answered Prayers in Denver! A Hundred Answered Prayers in Dublin!) and God would be glorified. Alas, people who were excited to share their answers to prayer in Bible studies were less enthusiastic about opening up to the world. I can’t blame them. And so my anthology ended before it began.

After a while, I realized that I could probably remember a hundred times God had answered my own prayers! If I’d kept a prayer journal over the years, I could blog them all right now! Unfortunately I never did keep a prayer journal, so I’m going to list some of the amazing answers to prayer that have stuck with me and come back and add others as they happen or as I remember them.

Tell me one of your answered prayers in the comments! Together I know we’ll get to a hundred and a hundred hundred.

Here are mine.


Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. —James 5:14

My sister told me I’d better get to the hospital to say goodbye to Dad. He’d been sick for almost a year, misdiagnosed with “anxiety and depression” and now told that he only had a few days to live. They were pretty sure it was liver cancer. Only awaiting the biopsy results.

Dad said that he was okay with going to heaven now; I wasn’t to worry about him. But I cried, put my hand on him, and asked God to heal. My dad was my softball coach, never mind that it had been twenty years ago. He taught me The Lord’s Prayer. He carried my band instruments. He loved dogs and birds and March Madness and Mom’s cooking and panning for gold. He was my dad!

I felt terrible leaving Mom alone at the hospital. I shouldn’t have left. I listened to Tree63 and cried all the way to my other sister’s house, spent the night there, and drove home the next day, whereupon the first sister called.

“Dad’s going to be okay!”

“What?” Isn’t it funny how we’re surprised every time God answers a prayer? “What,” I said.

“It’s an infection.”

The kind of infection doctors call each other in the room to see. The kind of infection none of them had ever seen in someone who was alive. But an infection nonetheless. Prayer answered mightily. 12 years later, my dad is still on his feet.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy  —Psalm 103:2-4

My daughter had abdominal migraines (possibly called cyclic vomiting syndrome) when she was little. Pretty much there’s no stopping it. Every couple months she’d wake up in the night (sometimes not totally wake up, which was scary) and barf every couple hours until around noon the next day. After a couple years, it started happening about every month. Then it happened about every 12 days a few times.

I think she was about six. I told her, “We’re going to pray about this EVERY night. We’re going to pray hard.”

And so we did, every night, with total faith and desperation.

12 or so days passed, and it happened again. I had a private talk with God. “What are you doing?” I asked. “This was a really good opportunity to show her that You answer prayers!” (Yes, I talk to God like that sometimes.)

So I told my daughter about the Bible saying that we should be persistent in prayer. We kept praying every night.

Meanwhile, my daughter kept asking for the Pedialyte popsicles we always kept on hand for rehydrating after her episodes. I’d always told her we needed to keep them in case she threw up, but I decided what the heck, I’ll just buy them all the time. She started eating about three a night, and guess what. She STOPPED having her episodes.

Did God heal through Pedialyte pops or just heal some other way? I don’t know, because she’d been having Pedialyte every day since and has only had one or two barfs over the decade since. (Pedialyte is not meant for constant use, so use caution, but we were desperate.) My daughter still gets headaches, but with an Advil here and there, she’s doing okay. If this were the only prayer God had ever answered, I’d be forever grateful.

While you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus. —Acts 4:30

For a year or so, I woke up at night with my arms, face, and chest numb. I got so worried that I went to my doctor and asked if I might have a circulation problem. He assured me that it didn’t sound like a circulation problem but didn’t know what it was. Then, at our annual church picnic in the woods, I stretched my arms up and behind me to try to make my chronically uncomfortable (though not painful) back more comfortable.


My spine zipped from the middle all the way to the top. No more discomfort. No more numbness. Thank you worship time. Thank you God!

Social Situations

When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. —Psalm 34:17

Okay, this one’s kind of funny. When my daughter was a baby, there was another baby in the nursery who liked to shriek. They weren’t crying, they weren’t being bad, they just liked to shriek. This startled my daughter every time and she bawled uncontrollably.

That’s not the funny part.

Our quaint little old church didn’t have a speaker that worked in the “cry room,” so every week I had to pick up my baby from the nursery and sit outside with her. I felt very disconnected.

So I prayed for God to resolve this situation. I didn’t have the slightest idea how.

About a week later, the parents of the shrieking baby, whose family had attended our church for generations, up and moved across the country. Everyone in our small church was stunned and sad.

I felt a little guilty, and I missed the baby’s super sweet mom, but it’s also kind of funny.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good,[a] for those who are called according to his purpose. —Romans 8:28

I can’t tell you who this prayer is about. All I can tell you is that it’s someone my schedule didn’t allow me to avoid. Anyway, this person drove me absolutely bonkers. We all have people who grate on us, but this is the only person about whom I’ve prayed, “God, You say that all things work for my good. How is this relationship good for me?” I was actually on my knees, which I don’t always bother with. “Am I learning patience?”

You’d think that if God was going to speak to me audibly only three times in 43 years, he’d speak to me about something earth-shattering, but God chose this irritating social situation.

“I’m going to show you how a relationship can change.”

The funny thing is that I wasn’t at all surprised to hear God’s voice, but I WAS surprised at what He said.

So did that relationship change, you might wonder? It did. Maybe not as dramatically as I hoped, but it’s still changing.


I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. —Psalm 32:8

I used to write Christian songs. I have a binder full of songs, most of which no one has heard. Two have been heard by successful Christian artists at songwriting conventions. At the conventions, my songs weren’t among those the clinicians seemed enthused about.

So as I sat on my couch playing barely-passable guitar and scratching out lyrics, I sometimes prayed, “God, is it okay if I spend my time this way? It will seem like such a waste of time if these songs don’t reach the masses or bring in any money for my family. I could be working during these hours or at least cleaning the house.”

I prayed like that a lot. I got discouraged and my songwriting dwindled.

I think I mentioned above that God has spoken aloud to me. Three times. Well this is the one and only time He spoke to someone else about me, that I know of.

My friend Joel approached me at church one Sunday. He said, “I was lying awake last night, the wife was asleep, and God spoke to me and said, ‘Ask Marie when she’s going to write some more songs and when she’s going to bring out the old ones.'”

I immediately started explaining. Again, funny how I didn’t bat an eye about God speaking audibly. It seemed completely ordinary.

“Well I’ve been busy” etc. etc.

“So you DO write songs?”

“Well, yes.” I’d assumed he knew.

“Whew!” he said. “I thought you were going to think I was crazy, but God told me to ask you so I thought I better do it.”

Those kinds of things aren’t coincidences, people! That conversation gave me so much freedom. If I want to devote time to something that doesn’t bring in money and might never amount to anything, I can relax and put my heart into it. Later, when I wanted to write a novel, I remembered Joel and let myself invest the time. And yes, I wrote some new songs.

Also, I thought it was funny that God asked “When” instead of telling Joel to say “Tell Marie to write more songs.”


Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. —Matthew 6:8

Sometimes I forget to pray for what I want. There was a time when my husband and I needed to find a new home. Our landlord wanted to move back in to our rental. I had a toddler and a broken toe and we wanted to buy so that we didn’t have to get forced out of a rental yet again and my husband’s public school teacher salary was barely enough to get a loan for a two-bedroom townhouse. It was a seller’s market, and that’s an understatement. Places were going for 30K over asking price the day they went on the market. We were running out of time, and places were getting snatched away from us north and south.

So I probably prayed. I don’t remember exactly. But I DO remember that when our realtor drove us to one townhouse I exclaimed “I used to wish I lived here!” I had not remembered the complex and definitely didn’t pray to live there. I’d only thought it fleetingly years before. I believe in being specific with prayers, but sometimes God hears the specific even when you forget.

We got our keys to that townhouse 8 hours before we had to be out of our rental.

Delight yourself in the Lordand he will give you the desires of your heart. —Psalm 37:4

Before I had my daughter, I taught an after school band program. Then I stayed home with my daughter, and during her toddler years, I remember having the thought, “It would be perfect if I could find a band teaching job during the school day when she goes to first grade.” But I knew that would be hard because I didn’t have a teaching credential, only a music degree.

Then I forgot about that.

In the spring of my daughter’s kindergarten year, a principal called my house. She wanted to know if my husband (a credentialed music teacher) needed a part time school to make his next year’s schedule full time. I have no idea why she thought that (cough cough, God) but I said, “No he doesn’t, but I’ll teach.”

Schools are desperate for part time music teachers, so she basically said “GREAT,” gave me a cursory interview, and off I went. Oh, it was one of the few places that didn’t require a credential, and it was a dream of a school environment. Organic garden, cooperative staff, the works. Deuteronomy 8:18.

Sometimes we forget to put the desires of our heart into a “Dear God, in Jesus’ name” format, but God knows. He always knows.


10 But Moses said to the Lord, “Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue.” 11 Then the Lord said to him, “Who has made man’s mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? 12 Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.” —Exodus 4:10-12

God has given me strength in ways that I don’t want to go into in this blog. But here’s a particular instance that’s easy to share, where God helped me be more than I am. I was getting ready for another beginning of the year band parent night. Every year I stammered through my list of vital information, always forgetting something even though it was right there on the list I’d made and stared unseeing at.

In short, I had the same public speaking problem many people had. I didn’t feel like throwing up, but I was far from eloquent and only passably informative.

One night, I LOST MY NOTES minutes before the parent night began. I tore through my trunk, my purse, everywhere. There was so much information to give the parents, and I knew I’d forget half of it. All I could do was pray.

This is one of those answers to prayer that some people would explain away with psychology. But I tell you, no one but an all powerful God could have made me the most comfortable I’d ever been in front of an audience. A switch was flipped, and I was never nervous speaking in front of people again. And I didn’t forget any more information than usual!


And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. —Colossians 3:15

I used to have terrible nightmares.

One night before bed I desperately prayed for peace in my dreams. That night I dreamed that a man at my church handed me an envelope that said “Col. (something I couldn’t remember)” In the dream I thought, “Who’s this colonel the envelope’s addressed to?” But when I woke up I knew the dream referred to the book of Colossians, which is abbreviated Col. and is a letter Paul wrote to the people of Colossae.

I read Colossians over and over. The man in my dream also told me to stay on the worship team, which I made sure to do.

No more nightmares!

Deepest Desires

If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. —John 15:7

When my dad was sick, he was so weak that he hardly participated in conversation at family gatherings. At some point I realized that I hadn’t heard him laugh in a very long time. We didn’t know if he was dying, but I remember praying to hear him laugh one more time.

I think my daughter was about to turn four. Not long after that prayer, we were at my parents and she and I were playing Uno on the floor, my dad sitting in a chair a couple feet away. My daughter “shuffled” the cards (have you seen a three-year-old shuffle?) and dealt them, and I got a hand full of one color. “I thought you shuffled these,” I said. She shrugged exaggeratedly. “I KIND of shuffled them.”

My dad, tickled, said “Ha!”

Your Turn

Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? 11 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! —Matthew 7:9-11

Of course I have many more answers to prayer I could list. Some aren’t interesting to read about, some are too personal, some would divulge private information about others, and some, sadly, I know I’ve forgotten. Yes, there have been times when God hasn’t answered a prayer the way I wanted, but many, many more times he has answered in miraculous ways.

I’d love to hear one of your miracles in the comments.


By the People (The Misuse of Romans 13:1-7)

The 2016 election was life-changing for many of us. I just read that 14% of Christians left their churches because of it. Many, many things bothered me (infuriated me, perplexed me, crushed me) during the election, but I’m going to try to stick to one topic for this blog.

After the election, I had no fewer than four Christian friends use their Facebook status to tell people not to complain about 45 so much. “We need to come together now,” one of them said. “We need to let him do his job,” another said. “It’s bothering people,” yet another said.

Aside from the fact that I have a HUGE problem with people passive aggressively telling me what to do with my own page, and apart from the fact that I suspect certain people didn’t mind the plastering of anti-Obama memes on Facebook walls, I believe there is a misconception about scripture at play here.

Romans 13:1-7 says:

13 Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Would you have no fear of the one who is in authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval, for he is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.Therefore one must be in subjection, not only to avoid God’s wrath but also for the sake of conscience. For because of this you also pay taxes, for the authorities are ministers of God, attending to this very thing.Pay to all what is owed to them: taxes to whom taxes are owed, revenue to whom revenue is owed, respect to whom respect is owed, honor to whom honor is owed.

I say “misconception” giving people the benefit of the doubt. Abuse is certainly a more apt word in some people’s cases.

When Paul wrote his letter to the Romans, Nero was in power. (Some scholars believe that Nero was still a decent chap at this point.) There was no vote to put Nero in power; he was simply named emperor by his great uncle, Claudius.

I was raised to follow laws. Unless those laws are obviously against the law of God, I still believe that I should follow the laws of our land. However, if (and this is debatable) not resisting in Nero’s time meant not speaking out, I don’t believe that “those who resist will incur judgement” applies in America the same way it would have in Rome in the year 57.

Our government is by the people. God has given our nation a totally different way of making laws and appointing leaders. Our speech, and that includes social media, is a powerful way to keep our fellow voters informed. I don’t believe there’s any call to roll over for the current administration. We have representatives to call. That’s the system God gave us. We have laws about impeachment. That’s the system God gave us. Every one of us has the power to create new legislation. Pretty great!

I have a feeling that some people think my daily commentary about this administration is divisive. Here’s how I see it. I am shining a light on every lie, every sexist or racist or dangerous deed or comment, in hopes of affecting the 2018 vote in the system that God gave us. If other Christians are opposing me in that task, I say it is them doing the dividing. This person placed by God into authority is indefensible by Christian standards in a way no president has been before him, and we have God-given ways to oppose him. If you don’t feel comfortable doing that, I can’t judge you, but if you are actively defending him or passively doing so by telling those of us speaking out to be quiet, I am not the same religion as you.

Let us part ways.

Dear Christians

The other day, when Mo Brooks was trending for implying that people who live good lives don’t get sick (he did admit later that many people have preexisting conditions through no fault of their own) I commented on someone’s tweet by tweeting “A pastor’s wife told my friend, ‘your son has diabetes because you and your husband must have sin in your life.'”

Twitter being what it is, my tweet was retweeted by indignant antitheists with the alacrity I always hope for with my lonely, unretweeted writer-tweets. Of course, now the tweet was out of context and out of my control.

You might think that my “Dear Christians” is going to be a letter warning you about tweeting ammunition for atheists. It is not. I’m begging you not to get so conceited about your relationship with God that you think you understand his reasons for doing anything. You don’t know why your friend’s son is sick. You don’t know why someone died in an accident. There are so many Bible passages that warn of this conceit. The entire book of Job, where God gets mad at Job’s friends for telling Job that he was sick because he sinned; John chapter 9, where people ask whether a man or his parents sinned, and Jesus says that the man was ill in order to show the power of God and not because of sin; Luke chapter 13, where men ask Jesus what sin some other men committed that caused them to be crushed by a falling tower and Jesus says (my paraphrase) that they have a lot of nerve thinking they aren’t just as sinful.

This same pastor’s wife (and I know a lot of pastor’s wives, so if you know me please don’t try to guess) had a lot of good qualities, but she also claimed to know what a dream I had meant. I went from thinking God had called me to do something to second-guessing myself when she said, “No, that dream meant you’re supposed to help people who have gotten spiritually sidetracked.” I never pursued what I had woken up thinking God had called me to do.

The funny thing about my tweet was that I was immediately followed by angry atheists who thought I was one of them. The thing is, I AM angry about Christians who tell others that they have bad things happen in their life because of sin. These same Christians often decide that the bad things that happen to THEM are sent by Satan because they’re getting too powerful for God’s kingdom.

I sincerely hope that my new atheist friends don’t unfollow me when they see me tweet a Bible verse or something. These are people who have been seriously harmed by Christians. I’ve noticed that most people don’t blame wars on religion unless they have ALSO received deeply personal injuries from people in the church. They may have been assaulted by clergy, not received any grace from their parents, or simply had a Christian acquaintance tell them in passing that their illness was punishment for sin.

Atheists have plenty of ammunition against Christians. I don’t regret what I tweeted. I’d rather get it out there that yes, people within the church say unbiblical and hurtful things, and we’re sorry! My tweet was not retweeted because it was news to anyone, it was retweeted because so many people related to it.

Dear Christians,

Let’s read our Bibles. Let’s speak in love and let others figure out what God is saying to them. Let’s be humble about how many years it takes to really understand His word and be very, very careful with our words before fully understanding.



The Time I Didn’t Go to Church on Easter

Easter is my favorite holiday. New Year’s Eve is a close second, but Easter wins because of Jesus. Christmas is nice, but there’s the stress of present-buying and the knowledge of all that little baby Jesus is going to have to suffer. Easter is the celebration. It is finished. He’s alive! Rejoice!

I haven’t voluntarily missed church on Easter since I started attending 20 years ago. My husband and daughter still attend our church, but I’ve decided that it’s not the right place for me. It’s Easter, April 16th, and it’s raining, and I’m at home blogging and watching people on Twitter criticize 45 for not going to church. My reason for not going to a service today is very different than his (he said he doesn’t need forgiveness, so I’m guessing that’s why he doesn’t bother) but it still feels strange and like something I have to rationalize.

Talk about awkward, my daughter was helping in children’s church, and since my husband was rehearsing with the worship team, I dropped her off. Everyone in their Easter best, and I hadn’t showered yet. Good to see you! Good to see you!

People in church leadership know that their church isn’t going to be a permanent home for every Christian who walks through the door, so why do I feel so awkward? I’m not uncomfortable with my reasons for leaving, so why am I uncomfortable with the thought that not everyone will agree with my reasons? Obviously they don’t agree, or they wouldn’t still be there.

I imagine they think I’m judgemental. I even imagine some of them think I’m a bit crazy. The truth is, most of them probably aren’t spending much time thinking about my reasoning at all.

Obviously, there’s no perfect church. I never thought I’d be the church hopper or the one who doesn’t go at all because there’s no perfect place. Don’t forsake the gathering together, I believe the Bible says. But here I am, home by myself on Easter and feeling utterly, well, okay with it. I believe in God with all my heart. I rejoice in the fact that Jesus came back from the dead and proved his resurrection to his followers so convincingly that they risked their lives to preach “We SAW him” for the rest of their lives. I am thankful that accepting his sacrifice is my ticket to eternal life in heaven.

I know many have been here before me. Some people will say, “You need to find a church family,” and some will say, “Do what’s right for you.” I guess the point of this blog is that we are all at various points along the “do what’s right for you” storyline. I recently realized that no matter what I’m doing, I have a vague feeling of “I’m not doing the absolute best thing I could be doing right now.” And I don’t even mean big things like career. I mean doing the dishes or choosing an outfit or teaching a concept. What a burden that I didn’t even realize I was carrying!

And so I’m probably making WAY too big a thing about not going to church for a while. I need a lot of alone time, and I take a long time to process things. I’m not a joiner. The thought of finding a new group of people who ask me to be a part of anything besides the music sounds exhausting right now. The thought of either grilling the leadership before joining or hanging around for six months to see how things run sounds exhausting, and frankly, futile. (Search for my previous blog about starting my own ideal church.)

I try not to write blogs that just meander through self-involved drama, and this is definitely a violation, but I know that someone can probably relate. Thank you for reading 600 words of me weaving my way to telling myself, “It’s okay. Stay home this Easter. God loves you just the same.”


Jesus Was on the Cutting Edge of Feminism, So Why Did the Church Fall Behind?

I was in the grocery store today, and I heard a man behind me jokingly telling his friend, “So manly.” He was clearly making fun of his friend for a “nonmanly” purchase or something, and the friend was in on the joke, too. It was all in good fun, and I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the exchange, but I wasn’t surprised to hear the rest of the exchange, in which I found out that they were church friends who had run into each other.

The man who had said “so manly” looked very, well, manly-man. Tall, bearded, with a short, pretty wife and a few kids. In fact, I recognized his wife from a multi-church event. I knew how much time and effort she put into parenting and volunteer work. I knew some very personal, heartbreaking struggles she’d had. She either didn’t recognize me or didn’t see me.

While I was checking out, a grocery cart tipped over and crashed to the ground, and everyone turned to make sure that a kid hadn’t fallen. “She’s okay,” we heard and all breathed a sigh of relief. It was only a child-sized cart that the young shopper had lost control of. Another man said, “Shopper in training!”

“Unfortunately she’ll become an expert,” I heard from behind me. Turns out Manly Church Man was checking out at the register next to mine. “Probably more of an expert than even my wife.”

Here’s what I wish I would have said. DON’T YOU SHAME YOUR WIFE! SHE PROBABLY DOES A SHITLOAD MORE FOR YOUR FAMILY THAN YOU DO! AND DON’T YOU TELL A STRANGER’S LITTLE GIRL THAT SHE’S GOING TO GROW UP TO BE A FRIVOLOUS SPENDER! But I only looked my cashier in the eye and wondered if she’d heard the same thing.

Why are so many church men stuck in this picture of manliness? Millions of dollars are spent every year on nonfiction Christian books aimed specifically at men. Just look at their titles and covers. Old school masculinity being sold like it’s not being sold to any other group of men.

Jesus spoke to women with as much respect as he spoke to men. Angels spoke to women just like they spoke to men. I still struggle with Paul’s words about women not speaking and wonder if God would really want them in the Bible. (Here’s a site that explores the misunderstanding about Paul’s words: )

Not only does the church’s view of masculinity hurt women, it hurts men. Young men who do not fit the typical picture of a church man don’t feel like they belong at church. What if they want to wear makeup? What if they don’t like sports or camping? Did Jesus die for them? Yes! Can they be powerful for the kingdom? Yes! Let’s not hinder them.

And if the manly church man culture hurts women and young men, it hurts Jesus. It hurts Jesus because Jesus feels the hurts that we feel, and it hurts Jesus because when nonchristian people don’t want any part of Christianity because it offends them (for nonlegitimate reasons—I’m not saying that we should deny Biblical truths to go along with society) Jesus loses many opportunities to save.


So, Manly Church Man, when you’re at the grocery store, people are listening to the way you talk about your wife. In a society that’s reeling from the misogyny of the current White House administration, they are listening more closely than ever.

Don’t limit Jesus.

And for goodness sake, tell your wife today how much you appreciate her.


I was on the verge of tears all day today. Donald Trump combined with having that stupid, heartwrenching audition song from La La Land stuck in my head, I guess. I actually did shed a few tears at random times. I kept thinking about all the art and beauty that would disappear if the article I read about Gorbachev is right. He thinks the world is preparing for war.

I thought I was going to cry watching my daughter’s honor band rehearsal, where she was playing under the direction of my college band professor, but I didn’t. I watched them rehearse at the incomparable Weill Hall, brought my daughter home for her dinner break and dropped her back off for the evening rehearsal. I’d planned to stay and watch some more, but the car was on empty, so I left to get gas and for some reason didn’t feel like hurrying back. I hadn’t had much dinner, so I ran to the store.

I’ve been shopping at the same locally owned market for well over a decade. It’s one of my favorite places. The cashiers feel like friends. As I checked out I found myself wishing they were good enough friends to ask for a hug. They aren’t. I thought about it on my way out, but they aren’t. Several of them probably wanted a hug too, but it’s just too weird. What a strange world.

At home, I pulled into my parking spot, got out, and said hello to a woman I see out walking a lot. Long ago I chatted with her about her dog, but the dog wasn’t with her this time.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “I fell recently and it’s been tough getting out in this cold weather. Luckily I didn’t hurt the fusion.”

I guessed from her gesture that she was referring to back surgery, but it was cute the way she said it as if I knew all about her surgery. I figure she’s told a lot of people in our complex and she assumed she’d told me before. We had never said much more than “hello” before. Now I told her that I was upset about the state of the world, and we just kept chatting. She told me her name was Margie (with a hard “g”).

We talked for a long time before she said something that began with “The Lord blessed me with…”

“I thought you might be a Christian,” I said. “I am too.”

She asked me if I knew any other Christians in our complex and asked where I went to church. When she was healthier, she’d attended a church that she liked except for its Calvinism. I had to have her explain that. I told her that I thought my church got Biblical principles right and explained the time that I did have one beef with them, whereupon she quoted Jude 3 (…contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints.)

What a hoot! How many people do you run into who can pull an appropriate Bible verse out of their mind? It was cold and dark, so finally I told her goodnight and walk carefully, and she gave me a hug! Suddenly I realized how strange it was for me to have wished for a hug at the grocery store. I’d never thought such a thing before, and here was Margie, out after dark which she said she doesn’t usually do.

I have often regretted not saying things like this, so I immediately told her, “When I was at the grocery store I wished I could ask someone for a hug! You’re an answer to prayer!”

She said, “Then you need another one,” and she hugged me again.

Thank you, neighbor. Thank you, God. Every day I need to be reminded that the beauty will NEVER be gone from this world. I seem to need to be reminded more than most, and God doesn’t seem to judge me for it. He simply reminds me one more time.