A Writer? #reverb10

I'm not sure that I really consider myself a writer.
 
Or at least, I haven't considered it before.
 
When I make a list of hobbies and things I like to do, writing never makes an appearance.
 
When I talk about the things that I am good at, I have never thought to include writing.
 
But, dammit, I am a good writer!  (or should that be "I write well" - ugh - I have never claimed to be an expert grammatically, and probably never will)
 

Over the last three years as a pastor, I have probably written more pages worth of thoughts than I did my entire college career.  I wrote a lot in seminary - so I probably haven't overcome that work yet... but I'm getting there!

 

It is a completely different sort of writing, however.  I'm writing not for a teacher and not an academic paper, but I am writing for an audience.  I am writing things that are meant to be read. I am writing things that I read/preach out loud - writing that becomes spoken and heard by many. I write for everyday folks. I write to make connections with other people and to bring things to life. And besides the sermon writing I do - and many times I would include sermons, also - I write because it brings me enjoyment.

 

And I love doing it.  I love bringing together different sorts of situations and concepts and making connections.  I love telling some one's story - whether it is someone in scripture or a stranger who has passed away.  I love to write!  I AM A WRITER!!!

 

So when I think about the prompt for December 2:

Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?(Author: Leo Babauta)

I think first and foremost that I do (did) not believe I am a writer.

And if I don't think of myself as a writer on a daily basis, then I do not practice my craft.  I don't work on it.  I don't give myself time to write.  I see it as something in the background, rather than a central part of who I am. 

I have tried at various times to be a musician and a chef and an artist and to play guitar and to sing and what not... some of those things I can do - and am getting better at doing the more I do it.  But I think if I look at all of those things, nothing really gives me the kind of satisfaction that I receive when I sit down and let my thoughts pour out.  None of them have allowed me to connect with other people the way that my writing does.

What I appreciate the most about this whole reverb10 enterprise is the fact that I am discovering so much about myself.  I'm letting go of doubts and self-denial and I'm just taking the risk.  I'm putting it out there.  And it feels so freakin' good to say it! 

I am a writer! And I can't wait to see where this realization takes me.

I believe... help my unbelief

The other night, I sat down to watch a film that has been in my Netflix queue for a while now:  King of California.  It's the story of a young woman and her mentally questionable father and his quest to find buried treasure beneath their suburban community.  It's quiet, a little quirky, but all and all a really good flick.

I think the thing that stuck with me long after the movie ended was the idea that you could follow along with someone - even if you weren't entirely sure you believed.  The character, Miranda, is about 90% sure that her father is full of crap, and yet she loves him and is interested in the possibility that he might be on to something.  She follows him all over the countryside.  She listens to his ramblings.  She does some reading and research of her own.  She gives up her job in order to get hired on with the Costco her dad thinks the treasure is buried beneath.  In spite of every instinct in her body that tells her he is absolutely crazy... she goes along with the plan.  She is there.  But she doesn't believe.

There are many days that I feel that way about my faith.  I know that God loves me.  And I want to love God with all of my heart, soul, mind and strength.  But I'm not always sure what on earth we are all doing.  I'm going along with the plan... seeing how things turn out... but there are absolutely doubts. I listen.  I read.  I would love to believe it all hook, line and sinker.  But there is too much of a scientific rationalist in my heart.  So I'm here.  I'm doing it.  I'm sticking it out.  But...   

There is that "but".  And I often worry about that "but." I worry that I'm not faithful enough.  I worry that the little "but" in the back of my mind is going to be my downfall.  I worry that maybe I am just going through the motions. 

King of California reminded me that it's okay to have questions.  Miranda was a faithful and loving daughter.  She would have done anything for her father.  She did the best that she could with what she had - and that included having questions, and doubts, and acting out in faith in spite of them. 

Maybe that's the key... acting in spite of our doubts.  Taking the leap of faith - even when it goes against every instinct in our bodies.  Deciding to follow - even if we are pretty sure that we have no idea where we are going.  Taking all of those doubts and carrying them with us and not ignoring them... but not letting them keep us from finding out the truth, either. 

There is a scene at the end - and I don't know that I'll ruin any of the plot if I say this - when something that Charlie (the dad) said actually came true.  Miranda is standing by the ocean at sunrise and a bunch of chinese men and women come running out of the ocean wearing only their underwear.  And she gets this look on her face - this look of curious wonder.  She saw for her own eyes the truth.  I pray that I might keep my eyes open and someday see for myself... see it all as it really is... and finally know.  Until then  I'm going to take my doubtful leap of faith and see what happens.

Lost my religion... or my religion lost me

Francisco Viri, "The Agnostic Survivor", Watercolor, 56 x 39 cms., 2002

As many of you know - my husband isn't involved at all in church life.  This whole church and religion thing just isn't what makes him comfortable and he's definately not sure that he wants to swallow the "truth" of the church hook, line and sinker.  And that's probably putting it nicely.

This week, I've had a couple of encounters that have reminded me why for some strange reason our relationship works - even though I'm a pastor and he's... well, if he were to call himself anything it would be Buddhist.

First, on Tuesday morning, a lovely woman who is in our small group came up and said that her husband and she had been talking about me.  He also isn't a churchy person.  He also doesn't get the whole religion thing.  And he was intrigued by the idea that if my husband and I can figure it out - then he and his wife can figure it out too. 

Then Tuesday night, I was given an amazing CD by a friend.  It's Susan Werner's "The Gospel Truth" and it has such a wide variety of musical genres and prophetic witness and a good mix of faith and doubt all rolled into one.  She describes it as "Agnostic Gospel" and I think in many ways that is true.

In her song, Lost My Religion, she talks about being told that girls were more trouble than they are worth by her preacher... and then comes the line - lost my religion... or my religion lost me.

I think for far too many people, they don't lose their faith, but their traditions lose them.  Church people can be too brash, they can be too forceful and judgmental, they can be too close-minded and far too empty of grace.

And some people just can't stand the hypocrisy.  Some people just can't stand being constantly judged for something they can't control.  Some people have too many questions and don't think they can ask them.  So they leave.  Or rather, they are left behind.

As I listened to Werner's album, and thought about my husband, and that woman's husband, I started thinking about all of the other people in my town that wrestle with deep questions of faith and life but don't belong in our churches.  I want so much to have a cup of coffee with them and talk.  I want to sit down over a beer and ask them what their questions are and promise them that I don't have cut and dry answers - but that we can wrestle with the questions together.  I want to spend time with my youth group parents and assure them that I know their lives are busy, and that Sunday mornings don't always work for them, but that we as the church can make room in our lives for them if they let us.

My heart is for people who religion has lost.