Thoughts

I don’t always like the human nature. It would seem that sometimes we human folk are so tied up in looking inside ourselves that we assume that everyone else is looking inside us too. That everyone else is as critical of me as I am of myself. In my more rational moments I realize that this simply can’t be true. If I’m so busy looking at my own faults, surely others are too busy looking at their own faults to see mine.

In less rational moments, especially when I’m feeling insecure and as though my world is caving in, I read criticism into every word spoken or written to me. A passing comment about a child, the work place, or even someone else’s home is taken as a stabbing and painful criticism me, my child, my workplace, my home. I mull over the words looking for hidden meanings. I interpolate and extrapolate every phrase.

Of course what I’m really doing is examining my own doubts, insecurities and imperfections. The ones I know best. The ones others probably don’t see but I assume they do. I assume they not only see them, but that they spend as much time and energy worrying about them, talking about them, mulling over them as I do.

It’s a paranoia, really. Paranoia that feeds on my self hatred. Paranoia that is fueled by my need to be self-critical. Paranoia that is self sustaining and spiral in effect. The more I doubt myself, the more critical I am. The more critical, the more I read into others comments and the less secure I feel. It plunges when I strike out at others and further isolate myself from them with my scathing words in defense of my weak self-esteem. The more isolated I am, the more self-critical I become. It is a set up for loneliness. A game plan for depression.

How to end the spiral effect I don’t know. I do know that the only way out of the basement is to climb the stairs or crawl out a window. Reversing the downward climb means reversing the trend. Looking for the positive in everything. Being more like Norman Vincent Peale and less like the fear mongers. More like Emma Bombeck and less like Willa Cather. Not that I’d want to emulate either Bombeck or Peale. I can’t be someone I’m not. But the first step is to turn away from the negativist tendency. The second step is to find things in myself that are likeable and good.

Dish Towels and Churches

 They were perfectly fine for me. Those towels had been a wedding shower gift from Dan’s grandmother. She died over ten years ago. And those towels have wiped a lot of dishes and even more hands. I like my towels.

When a friend helped me out last spring, she noticed that my dish towels were “tired” and thin. So for my birthday, she gave me a new dish towels. She meant well. But I couldn’t bring myself to admit that the towels Dan’s grandmother gave me so long ago were no longer adequate.

We get attached to things. We don’t like to get used to new things. Yet in the lives of many of us, things change rapidly around us. We can cook dinner in seconds, thanks to microwaves. We drive cars that are more computer than automobile. Televisions allow us to watch three shows at once. And computers give us instant communication with people half the world away.

The world is constantly changing around us. Normal is only a setting on our washing machines. The world changes every nanno-second. But we resist change in the things that are most dear to us..... especially our churches.

My towels look fine to me. But to my friend, they are thread-bare and inadequate. She didn’t know them when they were new. She didn’t know who gave them to me or why. She only knew what she saw..... towels so thin you can see through them. And she couldn’t find any value in them.

The same thing is happening in our churches. Younger people who didn’t grow up in the church — or who left it a time ago — see what happens in our churches as thread-bare and not of much use. The music is so very old. Things happen so very slowly — especially to those who live with computers and watch MTV for entertainment. There’s a bobbing head behind the pulpit and the scene doesn’t change. They don’t understand the meaning of it. It’s not spoken in their dialect. And they can’t find any value in it.

I’ve not thrown out my old dish towels. They still work for me. I use them along side of the new ones. But someday they will fall apart and die. Hopefully by then, the new ones will be familiar friends with stories of their own. And they can carry out the work.

We don’t want to throw out our way of being the church either. It still works for us. But we must learn to adapt to a new generation of seekers, to be open to new ways of being Christ’s church. Because someday we will die. And by then, new generations need to be friends of Jesus with their own faith journeys.

And they will carry out Christ’s work.

Lent 1997

John 3 17"Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him….. 19And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. 20For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed.

Light of the world, push through the darkness of my heart and mind that I may see the light of
your goodness in all that is around me. Shine in even the deepest recesses of my being and
bring an end to all my darkness. Amen.

Mushrooms are an interesting part of life. Some are ugly but edible. Some are colorful but poisonous. If you don’t know what you’re doing when you into the woods looking for mushrooms, your choice can mean the difference between life and death. Whether edible or poison, all mushrooms share two traits: they grow best in rotten dead stuff and manure, and they thrive in the dark. I would not want to be a mushroom.

I’ve never had good eyes. From the time I was very small I remember turning on the brightest of lights because I couldn’t see very well and the light helped. When I got my first pair of glasses, the world became a different place. I could see little details like people’s dimples and the color of their eyes. But it was also uncomfortable because I could see the dust in the corners of my bedroom and the dirt on my clothes. Things that were unknown to me became evident. It was as though there was a great light shining on everything – the good and the not so nice.

Light is judgement. John says so. “And this is the judgement: that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil” (Jn 3:19).

Light shows everything – the good and the not so nice. Light gives us life!

Sometimes I choose to live like a mushroom: I look for the rotten stuff and the negative in everything. I find anything to complain about and something blame for my discomfort because I don’t want to shine any light on myself and find the real problem. I refuse to let God’s light shine inside of me and bring light to my darkness. Instead, I bring everyone else into my darkness so I don’t have to be alone in the dark. Sometimes I love the darkness because to bring light into it would reveal the not so nice in me.

Light shows everything. The good and the not so nice. Just like cleaning house, allowing the light into the darkness is not fun and it’s not easy. Putting on new glasses takes trust in the Optician, patience with ourselves, and hard work to sort through the good and the not so nice. God sends Light not to condemn us but that through the Light we can live. We’re not called to be mushrooms. We’re called to be lampstands.

There’s that children’s Sunday school song that we all learned:
“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. … Let it shine, let it shine, all the time.”

Keep me from being a mushroom, Gracious God. Let your light shine in me, and through me. Let it shine, let it shine, all the time. Amen.