The Compromised Teapot

Okay, today I have two entries. Don't get used to it. 

Many things have changed for me on this journey from guilt to grace. A few decades ago I would have called the person I've become thus far in the journey a "compromiser." Maybe some of you would still call me that. It's okay with me. Pray for me whether you think I am wrong or not. Just don't turn away when you see me or look over my head or past me like I don't exist. I'm still me and I love the Lord more than ever before. Surely, we can still fellowship and share our love for Him. At least I'm willing. . .

Oh, the big "C" word. I heard it multitudes of times from,  my pastors, my teachers, my parents, my fellow believers. Those who did not dress, eat, attend church, worship, sing, wear their hair, or clothing the same or more conservatively that we did were all labeled with it. Really, back in those days I equated their compromise with a lack of salvation or at the very least a lack of understanding the Scripture.

I am cringing again at the memory of how I felt. But it did get me to thinking. What composes actual compromise? After searching for several minutes, the only Biblical way to use the word "compromise" in a negative sense was to use it as a term meaning "give into temptation and sin". . . . Please note that this does not include wearing a nice tee shirt instead of a shirt and tie, among other things. 

So what is sin? I don't think there are big, hidden mysteries involving sin. God is loving and just. Why would He murk up the list of things we aren't supposed to do? 

Many look to the Ten Commandments. As paraphrased by yours truly living in grace, here is how they go: 

1. There is no other God. Only the One of the Bible. Don't put any other thing, god, desire, person, etc. above Him. Period. 
2. Don't bow down in worship before ideas, inanimate objects, statues, idols. Bow down only to the only God from the first commandment.
3. Don't speak of or use God lightly. He is not a joke. He is not a curse. He is the Creator and the Only God. To disrespect Him shows contempt.
4. God blesses rest. Many folks believe this is a commandment involving not eating out on Sunday or not doing lawn work, etc. From my studies and research, I see this as a call to take care of your health, and to set time aside for personal communion with God every day, not just one. Remember, I'm living in grace, not under the Old Testament.
5. Honor your parents. What if they are scumbags? Pray for them. Honor their position as those who gave you life. They are not perfect, and honoring them does not mean allowing them to abuse you.
6. Don't commit murder. I think we understand that one.
7. Stay away from immoral sexual acts. Sex is for marriage, and for pleasure within marriage. Not for any other relationship. 
8. Don't steal. Okay, that's another one we probably understand.
9. Don't lie about your neighbor, your kids, your. . . Don't lie. Tell the truth.
10. Don't envy other people and what they have. That's putting yourself above others.

And then there are the two commandments Jesus used in the New Testament to sum up all of the above commandments. Love God with all your heart above everything else, and love your neighbor as you love yourself.   

Forgive me. I know I have sinned. I know I will again. But I don't see any of the things I use to think involved compromise listed here. I don't see them listed in the original non-paraphrased version either. It is fine to have standards. But as soon as those standards become symbols of "proper" spirituality, they become idols and dilute the love we have for others
and for God. Judging other's spirituality or salvation by man-made standards brings about division, discouragement, wrongful pride, and deception. In today's world, I don't think we need any more of these things.

As always, I welcome comments or ideas. Feel free to share. I'm not one for debate, so remember these are my beliefs and ideas. If you don't agree, that's okay. We can meet in the middle and agree to disagree. Hmmm. Now that's REAL compromise. 

In His Grace,
Teapotjan

                        

A Tea Light in the Dark

Growing up I lived in the country about three miles outside of a small town. We had a few neighbors scattered about, but far away from street lights and big buildings, night time blanketed all of us in dark. It amazed the little, younger me that it was far easier to spot the location of some neighborhood houses after dark than in the bright daylight. We were surrounded by trees, and greenery blocking the view during the day. But at night, the neighbor's lights peeked through the tree branches until the final light was clicked off by the last person awake in that house.

I live the life of a city dweller now in a subdivision with many neighbors, street lights, and buildings close at hand.The night never quite gets its blanket tucked all the way around my home. So I shut the curtains at bedtime, and turn off the lamps, and the light fixture above the bed, and close my eyes to sleep the deep sleep of the tired and stressed. But even through tightly shut eyes I still see a glow emanating from the digital display on the cable box. It's not really noticeable during the day unless I'm looking straight at it, but without the competition of sunlight and table lamps it sears the bright light of its message straight into my brain. So, I throw a cover over it, or hide-it-under-a-bushel-yes!--so to speak. 

A few days ago, I wrote about life in the Bubble. The Bubble stands to be a place where lights go to learn how to burn brighter, share tips on how to maintain a good glow, and how to share the light with others. Not a problem, this is a good thing. The problem comes when all the lights stay in the Bubble. All gathered together blazing and illuminating the nearby dark. "Nearby" being the operative problem term. The brightest light in the Bubble overwhelmed in the midst of all the other bright lights.

We must take our light out of the Bubble. Friends, there exists an entire world blanketed by the dark. A world asleep to the knowledge that God loves them and wants to give them eternal light and life. We can be like that one display on my cable box shining brightly enough on its own to light the whole room around us.

Hide my light under a bushel? No! Hide it in a Bubble with a bunch of other lights? No! Let my light shine and show others Him? I pray YES!

In His light,

Teapotjan

Bitter, Bitter Tea

I have many, many thoughts crowding my head and stirring my heart today. Fallen heroes from my childhood. Changes in my beliefs. Christians taking firm stands against . . . . other Christians.

This short-but-not-sweet-entry finds me questioning the reasons behind separation from other Bible-believing, Gospel-preaching Christians. I, in my frail understanding, cannot see how it serves the cause of Christ. All of us who have accepted Christ as our Savior will fellowship in Heaven regardless of what style of Christian music we choose, what translation of the Bible we hold in our hearts, and how our pastor dressed in the pulpit. 

Dear Lord, please draw your children together. The world is in tumult and grief and sorrow surrounds us. Please, Lord, help us point others to You instead of pointing our fingers at others.

Matt Olson's Pursuing Transparency with Change

Northland Transitions Leadership

Yesterday's Stale Tea

Sundays bring lots of memories, good and bad. I can't help looking back on Sundays past. Growing up the way I did, so many things in my life revolved around church, church attendance, and church people: along with all the rules and "false heresies" that came with being a big "F" fundamentalist.

Don't get me wrong, I did learn a great deal of God's Word, and my parents tempered things through great home instruction. But in our early days of church attendance, my parents were still relatively young in their salvation. So they did what many young Christians do, and followed their pastor's lead and trusted that he was led to do and say the things he did by the Holy Spirit.

Before I get too far I must credit a blog entry shared by one of my friends. Bob Bixby's blog entry "The New Fundamentalism."  Many of the things he shared struck chords deep in my heart, and I knew I had to share his thoughts and mine.

In my time as a child and teen in church I believed that what you wore defined your spirituality at least in part. So as soon as I was old enough, I begged to wear hose and heels to church and school. I remember wearing hose to a camp meeting held in upstate South Carolina on the fourth of July because hose were what good Christian women wore to worship the Lord. Sawdust ruined said hose, so I had to have another pair for the next night, and the next and you get the picture. And the temperature was well into the 90's that week.

As for women in pants, they were acceptable only if you were out of town on vacation, and culottes were the preferred choice for the modest Christian woman. They still are for many. But after climbing up a steep grade to get to a waterfall at camp and seeing what the girl's culottes above me revealed, I changed my mind about that. Then, it became knee pants with a flap in the front and back to conceal the fact that I had two legs. According to the pastor and his wife, these garments had to look like skirts or they were sinful. I'm serious. "Women should never wear men's garments." Unless you weren't in your own town. You could wear them in someone else's city, but not yours. 

A good friend of mine who grew up in the same area I did with very similar experiences was told that men did not wear wire-rimmed glasses because they were "worldly." Horn-rimmed glasses ruled the day for the church men in our area because they were acceptable and set them apart as Christians. We both also apparently heard the same sermon about having animals in the house as being wrong. "Bless God. If you want hair in your gravy, go ahead and have a dog in your house. Satan would just love for you to have dog hair in your gravy, but I won't be eating at your house." 

There are many, many other similar things, large and small, that I remember from those days. I was taught to trust my authority. I was taught not to question-at least not out loud. I obeyed and judged others and lived in fear of displeasing God, my parents, the pastor, and the other church people. I did have one pair of pants I wore to elementary school so I could play on the monkey bars. I remember praying that God wouldn't return that day so I wouldn't go to Heaven wearing pants.

Many of you will realize how silly and wrong proclaiming these things as sinful really is. But some won't. There are still things proclaimed in churches today that are just as silly and foolish. You may get upset with me. But I'll say this: None of those things were wrong in themselves. But basing your own spirituality and the spirituality of others based on how they handled these items was and is wrong! These are preferences turned into "false heresies." False heresies make believers feel guilty for no reason, and Satan feel happy for their distracting properties.

That's all the stale tea I have for now. I'm grateful that God led me to seek out His truth and bring me into the light of his Grace. Search your heart and beliefs. Everything comes down to the Gospel, nothing more. Any additions or preferences lauded as indicators of true salvation and spiritual may lead you to swallow the lie of "false heresies."

In His Grace with fresh tea everyday,
Teapotjan

Teapot in a Bubble

A few days ago, I wrote about how some Christians actually pull away from unsaved people, and expect the unsaved to act like the saved. Baffling. How do these folks expect to show the love of Christ to the unsaved? From afar? With a tract? Maybe a radio broadcast? Those things may help, but the best way to share the Gospel is to share yourself as Christ did with us. 

I have lived and worked in a bubble. In that bubble, we had certain standards to follow, our own phrases and inside jokes, a distinct style to our dress, and a certain way to do things, and certain churches to attend, and on and on. Visitors that did not come from other bubbles just like ours stuck out like pins on a pincushion. Many were sure these visitors would pop the precious bubble and change life as we knew it. We were Christians, working in a Christian place, with Christian co-workers. Our Christian children went to a Christian school, and we went to meals and church with Christians. There were months at a time when I had no personal interaction with the unsaved masses. 

I know all the excuses to pull away from those unsaved masses and hide in the Bubble. Bad influence on the children; I'll be tempted to join in their sin; People will think I'm compromising, etc. I've used some of those excuses myself, and I'm repentant of that. Still, I know really sweet, amazing people who are still in the bubble and still using those excuses. Do I think life in a bubble is bad? Hold on while I pull out my pincushion---Yes, if it's the only place you ever inhabit and interact with others, yes, yes I do. PoP!

If you have received Christ as your Savior, and you are led by the Holy Spirit, and in the care of the One who created all, don't you think that He can protect you and your children while you are sharing His Gospel? Didn't He go to the unsaved, eat with publicans, and preach to the unsaved masses. Yes, that's the very reason He said He came to us. 

So, what is my point? Should we pull our children from Christian schools, get jobs outside of our bubble, and evangelize in downtown bars on Saturday night? No, not unless you feel that God is calling you to do so. We have to use common sense. However, we should fervently pray for opportunities to befriend those God puts in our way, and show that we care for them, the person, that individual, that God created. Talk to your waiter or waitress in your favorite eating place about their families, and work to remember their name. Engage those around you in line with small talk if you're not too shy. If you are shy, remember, sharing the Gospel starts with caring about others. So, find one person that you see often in a store or in your neighborhood. Befriend that one person or that one family and show them that you care about them even if they smoke, are divorced, homosexual, or whatever. You don't have to endorse their sin or lifestyle. You just need to love them enough to let them know you will help them and show them that you have a peace and grace that they don't.  That's exactly what the Bible refers to by "letting your light shine." You don't have to light a stadium full of people, just those God puts around you.

As always, there is more to say. But I'll save it for another entry. I'd appreciate any questions or comments you have. Is there something that you want me to discuss that I can ponder and prayer about writing? Let me know.

Out of the Bubble and still in His Grace!
Teapotjan

Empty Teapot

Anyone seen my blog today? I can't seem to find it. It usually bubbles up in my head by now, but so far nothing. . . . 

Maybe in a little bit. I'll keep looking.

Assembly Line Teapots

Teapot after teapot after teapot rolls down the conveyor belt, each like the first and the one right after. One design, one plan, one mold for all the teapots sitting side by identical side on the shelf. All shiny, and clean, just like the teapot designer wanted. All the same. All the same. Maybe a different colored flower there, and a slight change of a leaf there, but pretty much the same. Ah, bliss! No aberration, no decisions, just a teapot like all others.

I must confess that if I received one of those teapots, I'd have to paint it or ding it or something to make it different. We thrive on individuality. God made each of us different so it must be part of His plan. He doesn't want His children to be "cookie cutter" Christians. He wants us to chose Him of our own, God-given, free will. And then serve Him with our unique, God-given talents.

Look at the world He created and the variety of His creations! I doubt that He expects us all to be the same and to worship Him the same way. I know I said that I would talk about how Christians should react to the unsaved today, but a few things have come up, and I feel this is a pressing matter. My heart is burdened over a schism among His children, and I want to do what I can to help close it.

Those of you that have read this blog know that I have left big "F" Fundamentalism behind me as part of my journey from guilt to grace. But I have not left Christ or His service. In fact, I feel closer to Him now than any other time in my life. I found that I don't have to be the same as all the other "good" Christians. I don't have to wear the same clothes, I don't have to use the same Bible translation, I don't have to listen to the same music, and I don't have to worship God exactly like anyone else does. 

Recently, a Christian university in the northern part of the US made the shift to allow worship style music in their chapels, camps and programs. Some of the dress standards have relaxed-not to the point of immodesty--just more casual. It's a move I applaud. There are no doctrinal compromises. There is no desire to become more worldly. It is a move to bring the the school into the present pushing aside outdated cultural preferences. Yet many pastors and many leaders in other more conservative schools have felt the need to speak out in disagreement with the change. 

Why? Will the cause of Christ suffer because a group of people who believe the same Bible and worship the same God changed their worship style? Will Christ be more glorified if we disagree publicly with others who claim His name and serve Him? Will "compromise" send the entire Christian population down a slippery slope into Hell? NO! It will not. God's love and salvation is bigger than all of our disagreements. He deals with individuals. He leads Christians differently, and we have no reason to doubt the leading of the Holy Spirit. And we would be committing blasphemy if we dare to dictate how the Holy Spirit works with anyone other than ourselves.

Will we do more damage to the cause of Christ by separating and criticizing each other over cultural differences? Yes. Most certainly. The only thing worth complete division is a corruption of the Gospel of Christ and the foundational doctrine behind it. That's really it. Seriously. Even then, we are dealing with people who are possibly unsaved, and any division should still be handled with care for their eternal soul. As for separating from those who criticize and and divide the body of Christ, they've already done that for us. But, I stil believe we should uphold them in prayer and let the Lord do His work with them.

We aren't going to be assembly line Christians. We shouldn't be assembly line Christians. God made us individuals and He gave us the Holy Spirit to guide us on how to use our individuality and talents to serve Him. We are handcrafted one of a kind works of art fashioned by our Creator.

Speaking of one of a kind, has anyone seen my cow teapot?

Hippy Teapots

I remember the shock wave that went through my small childhood church when they first walked in to the auditorium. If my mother had not made me turn around for the sake of politeness I would have stared at them as any fundamentalist nine year old child would at this embodiment of sin. The church members initial reactions ranged from looks of disgust to an actual withdrawing to other, safer pews. I snuck glances at them whenever mom wasn't looking at me. Sinners had entered the church! It was a young couple holding their beautiful little blonde-haired girl. He had hair down to his waist, and she had a dress halfway up her legs. I could only think "hippies!" It was 1970 after all.

The young couple came to church because they were scared and needed help. Their daughter showed adverse signs from their use of drugs and they wanted to change whatever they could to help her. Many of the church members truly would have nothing to do with them. Nothing. They raced by them avoiding all eye contact as if a glance would send them into drug-induced hallucinations. Thinking back, I am amazed that this couple didn't turn away from church and God completely. But the concern for how their lifestyle could hurt their child had drawn them in and their love for her kept them there long enough to meet one of the few people in that church that knew how to act. It was my mom. 

She and my dad invited them to dinner, cooed and cuddled their little girl, and led them to Jesus. For several years, that couple and their children were frequent guests in our home. They grew in the Lord, completely left behind all use of drugs, and raised lovely, healthy children. I haven't heard from them in decades, but I'm sure I'll get to see them again in Heaven.

It may seem that this kind of thing wouldn't happen today, but it does. I've seen it. Big "F" fundamental folk still seem to expect the unsaved to act. . . well . . . . saved. Any difference in dress, appearance, and action warrants a withdrawal. A guy with hair over his ears, a girl with a pierced cartilage, clothing too casual, too denim, too short, too long are all deemed worldly. And the very people that should be reaching out, self-proclaimed Christians, instead pull back, hush their children and warn them to stay far away. Then place their children in Christian schools, Christian sports leagues, Christian clubs, and then wonder why they can't handle the real world when they get there.

Now, I don't think that there is anything wrong with any of the Christian things mentioned above. I'll get into some of that in another post. But I do take issue of the complete separation of Christians from everything and everyone in the world. It leads to the same wide-eyed shock I felt when that young couple walked into my church seeking help. I can't help but think that the drop in church attendance and the influence of God's people came from this "not of of any part of this world no way no how" mentality. 

Again, in the interest of keeping these entries short, I'll stop for now and write more tomorrow. Meanwhile, let's examine our reactions to those who are not like us in spiritual matters and compare them to Christ's reactions during His time on earth. And pray that God gives us the ability to reach out to Hippy Teapots.

Teapot's Tidbits

I sat on my pergola this morning with a hot cup of coffee and prayed. The sun warmed me while a cool breeze blew my hair and launched little helicopter seeds from the nearby trees. My dog, Roscoe came up and nuzzled my hand  and I reached and patted his soft, black fur. I had no where to go for a while, and the morning air was sweet and fresh. The Lord brought to mind some of the things I've read recently about His word and from His word and waves of wonder washed over me there under the blue sky He had touched with soft, white clouds. 

Then I began to think of other things that have brought me those same waves of wonder and joy through the years: the sound of my children's laughter, the majestic sequoia trees in California, my mother's smile after she woke up from surgery, and the grace that God gave me when I accepted His gift of salvation.

There are many struggles in my past, and more to come in the future, but there have also been many, many blessings to remember and more to look forward to in the years to come and through eternity. These sweet times and the memories of them are another gift God gives in the midst of trouble. Little tidbits of sweet, precious, grace.

The smallest of pleasures and the biggest of blessings. Thank you, dear Lord for these tidbits. Help me savor them and use them to recall your love. May your name be praised and may I always be grateful for all you give and do.

Strong Tea, Strong Coffee, Strong Christian

Strong tea. Okay, I actually drink coffee more often, but the principle remains the same. The best tea or coffee has to go through some sort of process, usually involving heat, to become its best. It's the same for a Christian. In order to conform to Christ's image, we must go through processes that often involve things we don't enjoy.

How does these things fit into the journey from guilt to grace? Foremost, going through a trial does NOT always mean that you are doing something wrong. God will send trials at times to bring us back to him after we have wandered away from Him. He wants to restore fellowship with us. This chastening, or discipline, occurs to restore fellowship, not as payment.  When we repent, the whole issue is over. We should feel remorse at our sin, and strive not to repeat it. But even if we sin again (and we will), the depth of His forgiveness covers our sin. Wallowing in guilt over the situation will only hinder us from serving Him. I'm convinced that while remorse and repentance brings us closer to God, guilt serves Satan's purpose to cripple God's children. He desires that we live in grace, not fear and guilt.

Recently I encountered great conflict which still isn't completely resolved. My first reaction involved throwing up my hands, sobbing, declaring that I was pulling out of the situation entirely, and let the carnage lay where it fell. I didn't want to fight and I didn't want the pain. So THERE! Frankly, I don't enjoy conflict and trial. I believe that I will never be thankful for pain and anguish. You're probably never going to hear me say, "Praise God that hurt so badly and that I cried for days."

So, why is it necessary to go through trials if we don't have to like them? Why can't we sail to Heaven on flowery beds of ease? That would be my preference.  Like Daffy Duck, I'm not like other people: pain hurts me. But, the fact is humans learn more from trials than from success. We gain more compassion for others by going through pain. And we learn to trust in Him more when we cannot help ourselves. And the lessons learned and the trust gained helps us not only to grow more Christ-like, but strengthens us for future conflicts. 

How do conflicts help us? Often during a conflict we lose stuff that we just don't need. All things that grow need a good trim from time to time. Some of the things I have trimmed away (or lopped in some cases) during a trial include bitterness, judgmental attitudes, fear of the future, and self-doubt (not all of it, but some-I still have plenty-so I'm sure I'm not done with trials). 

In the meantime, I gained many things. In the midst of a terrible time, when nothing seems humanly possible, there stands no choice but to look to Him. Once we put our faith in Him and let Him handle the impossible, He faithfully delivers us, and we gain trust and confidence and peace. It's that peace in the tempest that I wrote about two days ago. I don't think there's a better feeling than knowing you can completely trust Him. And then later, when a friend faces a similar trial, we find new compassion for their needs and can be used by God to help them through the hard parts by sharing how faithful we found Him. We're more than we were when started, we're stronger and more refined.

Leaves picked, cleaned, crushed, dried, and steeped turn into soothing hot tea. Beans picked, roasted, ground, and brewed into steaming java glory. Christians tried, conflicted, refined, and conformed to Christ-likeness. Each better, stronger and more desired than at the start. It's all in the processing.

Peace in the Tempest

The world is in turmoil. In America we have had another taste of what many in other countries deal with virtually everyday. Our country no longer stands untouched by terrorism within its borders. The divorce rate is out the roof. People ignore the sanctity of marriage, and in doing so lay waste to the foundation of moral strength and character (and I am not talking about just homosexual marriage, but the breaking of vows, and the lack of commitment to spouse and children). The entire country obsesses over insignificant offenses, while crying for the deletion of other's rights.  Natural and manmade disasters changed how we assemble and disseminate information. Inflation is rampant. Crime is up. There are few voices, if any, in the media or the government that we can trust. We turn on the television, and most of the news concerns terrible things done by terrible people that did terrible hurt to others. No peace. No peace. No peace.


Isaiah 23:6 states: "You (God) keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in You." We need revival in America. We need revival throughout the world. Some believe that this revival will be brought about by scaring people into conformity with threats of judgement and doom. But as the tempest wanes, so will their fear, and so will their "need" for God.

For a long time, those of us from strict fundamental backgrounds were taught "in the world, but not of the world" meant that we dressed differently, listened to different (or at least older) music, talked differently, and acted differently in order to show just how saved we are. 

But the real way to show how we are  "not of the world" comes from sharing the grace and peace that comes from trusting in God. Trust in Him dictates our actions, words, and reactions to all situations. Trust in Him brings peace in the midst of chaos. Even when we are surrounded by devastation, lies, and disaster we can carry on contentedly knowing that God is in control. When those "in the world" can look to us and see that we have something they don't, we can reach out to them and share how God gave us calm in chaos, and light in the dark. And maybe then they'll join us in trusting Christ and receive peace in the tempest.

Water is Ready, But I Can't Reach the Tea

Since you are joining on my journey from guilt to grace, I'm going to be as transparent as possible, tell you my problems and frustrations, and then see how God makes them a lesson. He always does. So . . . let's talk about this morning. 

It's my last day off before doing a three day work weekend: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, twelve hours each day. I don't get much accomplished on these weekends except work. I'm no spring teapot and thirty-six hours in three days just takes a bit more out of me now than it would have twenty years ago. That being said, I try to get a few things done ahead of time. You know, silly stuff like cleaning, and spending time with my family and so on. 


I slept in for a bit. When I woke up, I lay there planning what to do. I've been putting off my bedroom until I could put away winter clothes and bring out the spring and summer stuff. So today was the day! My husband wakes up, and he's sick. Running a fever. Tired. Needs to rest. In the bedroom. Argh. Not mad. Just can't reach that goal. Grumble. Need breakfast, need coffee.

Since I don't have to work, I think a biscuit that I don't have to eat in the car on the way to work would be great. Hubby doesn't want one. My dad wants a sausage, egg and cheese, the one other person awake wants bacon, egg and cheese. Sounds good. Make coffee. Go to get in van, and I'm parked in. Since I wear my emotions on my sleeve these days, I cry dumb tears of sheer frustration. I could have a meltdown. I'm tired. I deserve it. But then I won't get a biscuit, and neither will my dad, and neither will the other awake person. So, I have to rouse the driver of the car that parked me in, and have them move it. I somehow muster enough kindness to offer that person a biscuit as well, but they were going back to bed. BACK TO BED? 

I guess I haven't mentioned that my next plan of attack was to clean and vacuum the hall and family room before I went this afternoon to babysit for one of my dearest friends and hangout with two of the cutest twins this side of anywhere. But that would wake the sleeping-in person whom I had already gotten up to move the car so I could get the biscuits. ARGH.

Thankfully the trip to the biscuit place was uneventful, because the Lord knew this teapot was probably steamed up enough to commit some serious road rage crime. I delivered the biscuits to their proper recipients and sat down in the uncleaned, not-vacuumed family room to watch television, drink my coffee, and eat my biscuit while not in a car. And I can't find the remote. I think I have, but it turns out the one I found was the old, broken one that had the batteries removed and was thrown away. But, like a zombie, it had returned from its grave and was now apparently searching for battery brains. ARGH! ARGH!

What to do? What to do? Pray? No, I'm too mad. Get up and look for the remote? No, the old one would just eat its batteries. Plot murders? No, those are illegal and I work in law enforcement-too much paper work. Ah! I'll write. That's the outlet the Lord has provided and that's what I'll do!

And as I write, I think. What does the Lord want me to learn? Why am I frustrated to the point of tears. I have the stupid hot water, why can't I reach the stupid tea? It's just tea. . . .It's just cleaning. . . .It's just a minor delay. It's just . . .minor. 

Where once I would have continued to be frustrated, I'm sharing my lesson learned  through the outlet the Lord has provided. Instead of feeling wretchedly guilty that I'm not a good wife, mother, friend, daughter, I'll look to Him for grace to do what I need to do today. Even while writing this, I feel calmer and eager to see my friend in a short while. It doesn't hurt that I'll get in some cute, twin snuggles later today, either. 

Is it a perfect day? No, no, it's not. Is it an awful day? Yes, partly it is. Is it a day to be defeated? No! I don't have to enjoy the struggles and frustration. But, I can sure learn lessons from these struggles and any others that come my way today. Will I cry again today? Maybe, maybe not. But that's another outlet the Lord has me use now, so no big deal.

It's Grace, folks. Not guilt. It's lessons learned, and forgotten and learned again. It's crying, and laughing, and helping, and loving and apologizing and whatever it needs to be to serve Him.

Besides, I actually like coffee better. And I CAN reach that. 

Parked in, but okay with it. Sorry I groused.

Teapotjan

The Broken Teapot: Part Two

"If there was just one sinner on the planet, Christ loves each of us so much that He would have come to earth and died just the same." 

I've heard that rather dramatic, poetic statement made over and over in countless sermons in dozens of fundamental churches. I don't find it offensive. I don't argue that it's wrong. I bring it up here because some of the very mouths that I have heard quote this sentiment in a sermon, later spoke in whispered, covert terms about ABUSE and how the individual's own problem must be hidden to protect the work of the Lord. So I ask, if one person's sins are enough to send Christ to the cross, then why is one person's abuse not enough to condemn one abuser to legal punishment for a crime?

Yesterday, I stated that our first reaction to any report of abuse should be one of love, not judgement for the abused. Next, that abused person needs protection and security. Contact the local authorities. God is in control. He doesn't want us to cover up wrong for His sake. We have treated abuse as a private matter for too long. People have suffered and people have died because of this attitude, and those who covered these egregious acts bear the shame of it. 

How do we fix this? What steps should we take? First, do not allow the emotion of the situation to overcome common sense. This is a call to help the abused, not a call to a witch hunt. While in no sense do I support the actions of an abuser, we must remember that Christ loves ALL of us including the worst of sinners. In our legal system they have a right to a fair trial and they must accept the consequences of their crime. In our practice of Christ's teaching they need counsel, and forgiveness, even while they suffer the consequences of their sins. As much as the abused must be protected, the abuser must be held accountable.

Holding the abuser accountable does not allow full fellowship with the believers even if they are not in jail. Just as offenders have restrictions placed on them after release from jail, an abuser needs restrictions placed on them from the church. In one recent very famous case, the abused was sent away, while the abuser was allowed to stay in his home church. I do not know all of the circumstances, but this seemed . . . skewed.

Finally, at least for this post, if you are a victim of abuse please let someone know. It is not your fault, and you are not alone. If you have no one nearby contact Godly Response to Abuse in the Christian Environment or GRACE. From their homepage: "GRACE is an organization whose sole purpose is to equip and assist the Church and those within the Christian community to fulfill Mark 9:36-37."

I'm sure that this is not my last post about abuse. I wish it could be. But sin and apathy still exist. If you need or want to contact me about a problem or a question, please do. I will be discreet, and I will answer prayerfully.

Broken teapot, broken people, broken lives. Perfect Savior.

In Christ Alone,
Teapotjan

Teapot, Biscuits, and Bo Rounds

My eighty-six year old father lives with my family. We have a special bond, my dad and I. Because of his work, he was often around during the day and he used that time to teach me to read, and take me on adventures in his old Chevy pickup. He still has a great sense of humor, and a clear, sharp mind. And I think I would do just about anything for him, no questions asked. 

Last night as I left work, I called him to see if he wanted me to pick anything up for him on my way home. He mentioned he had a prescription waiting, and then he paused. . . . "Hungry, Dad?" I asked. "Well, I could eat," he answered. "Steak biscuit and Bo rounds?" I giggled back. "That would be great, honey. Be safe coming home." 

Be safe coming home. I'm a fifty-one year old mother of two adult children and one teen child. I've traveled to twenty five states, Canada and Mexico some  with and some without my husband. I've been a single mom for weeks at a time when my husband was working, but my dad still admonishes me to "be safe." I didn't always appreciate it, but now I love to hear it.

I ordered his food at the drive through, and had to pull forward and wait for a few minutes for the Bo rounds. As I sat there I watched a young shirtless, black man carrying a basketball come down the sidewalk and walk to the store entrance near where I waited. I smiled as he put down the basketball and began to put on his shirt, thought nothing of it and looked back down at the phone in my hand. 

Then I heard his voice, "Ma'am, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but I'm not from Greenville." "Be safe" my dad said in my head. The young man continued "I'm from Baltimore, and I've been here only a couple of days and I have a job lined up tomorrow." I smiled back still thinking about "being safe." "Ma'am, if this makes you uncomfortable that's fine . . . but I'm hungry and I don't have much money left." 

Dad's voice said "Be safe" and God's voice said "You are safe." And I thought of angels unaware and my own kids and the cash in my pocket. "I won't hurt you, ma'am." "I know, son. I serve Christ. You can't hurt me unless He allows it." What was I saying? What would my dad say? That young man smiled a brilliant smile as I handed him a five dollar bill. He looked as surprised as I felt. We chatted for a minute. He told me he had come to Greenville to find a job because there was nothing back home. He was starting work at a nearby company the next day, and he was the same age as my oldest child. 

The server brought out my dad's food at that time. I waved goodbye to the young man, and watched him go to the counter and begin ordering his food. I was safe. Safe in the knowledge that God has me in His hands. Safe knowing that God had used me to help someone. Now, I won't make a practice of going around handing out money to strangers, but this was a time and a place when God granted me complete peace and comfort so that I could help a stranger in need. I made my way safely to the pharmacy, and then safely home.

And my dad smiled when I handed him the steak biscuit and Bo rounds. And he smiled when I told him about the young man. And we both smiled as Dad reminded me that God does protect us so that we can serve Him without fear. 


Either later today, or first thing tomorrow, I'll continue with Broken Teapot, part two. But for now, friends, be safe. 


In Him,
Teapotjan

An Unexpected Post--Teapot Looks to Boston

A moment to pause from those worries that compass us about here in South Carolina. I pray that the Lord gives comfort and strength to those injured, and to the families of those who have died in Boston.

Those things which tear us apart and break our fellowship pale in the light of what these people are facing.

Serve the Lord. Love others. Pray.

The Broken Teapot, part one.

It is time. Time to talk about a very hard subject. Time to call out those who perpetuate the problem and then discuss it in whispered tones behind closed doors. It is time to lift up the broken, and punish those who broke them. It is time to bring abuse in the fundamentalist camp into the light of reality and deal with it in a Godly manner. Ignoring abuse will not make it go away, it will only make it worse. It is time. Now.

I have never been the victim of abuse. But, there are too many who cannot say the same. I have met some of them. They are often so broken that they can no longer function as a normal person. Their every thought and reaction is tainted with painful memories of abuse and neglect at the hands of the ones that should have protected them. Trust is a by-word, and guilt reigns their emotions.

As many of you know, abuse of any kind is about power. It is a selfish desire to lord over another being. The abused becomes less than a human and more of an object to be used. The point soon comes where the abused begins to believe   that they themselves are worthless, and they see no way out of the situation. This is the exact opposite of how Christ views them, and the exact opposite of how we should view them and treat them.

If a victim of abuse reaches out for help, it does not matter what we think about the truthfulness of the claim at that point. We have a person who has asked for help. Our initial response must be one of love, not accusation. Good, godly counseling will bring out the truth and the Holy Spirit will lead on how to deal with it. If approached by an abuse victim, procede prayerfully with love and kindness as Christ does when we come to Him. This stage is not one for any kind of judgement concerning the abused or the abuser.

The alarming trend in fundamental circles for the past several decades has been to sweep the entire issue of abuse in the church under the rug. I am not ashamed to say that those who claim that bringing it out in the open for full disclosure must not serve the same powerful God that I do. They do not need to "protect the cause of Christ" by hiding abuse and sin. Christ's cause is eternal and I think He can protect it all on His own. Sheltering the abuser, and blaming the abused protects nothing righteous. Call out the abuser, find out the facts, and let God take care of the rest!

In the interest of keeping each day's entry short, I'll continue on with this subject for most of this week. There is a lot to say, and my heart is burdened. I will leave you with a link to a letter written by my friend, Rebecca Davis: An Open Letter to Dr. Bob Wood, and another to a confidential survey from GRACE, i.e. Godly Response to Abuse in the Christian Environment for those who have suffered abused. 

The teapot may be broken, but I know of a Great God who can make the very worst whole.

Steeping in Guilt

Less than perfect. We've all felt that way. Goodness, by our very nature we are all less than perfect. Trouble comes when our feelings of inadequacy take us over and cripple us from doing anything. Without help we can completely shut down and no longer be able to take care of ourselves, help others, and lose all hope of serving God. A larger problems looms when that "help" comes from judgmental, our-way-or-no-way, legalistic christians.

I go back to my earlier post Tea Cozy of Clay. I mentioned that my son was going through behavioral problems, and I was seeking help. My fears were that I had ruined his life and faith by some terrible thing I had or had not done or some thing I had or had not taught, or by missing a church service or failing to teach the right bible lesson or not spanking enough . . .and the list goes on and on. I was as much as told so by the pastor of my church, and by the looks of pity I received when my son pulled a boyish prank or didn't behave like a perfect, fit-in-the-mold son. I so wanted him to change and behave and my cheeks burned with shame. Shame turned to guilt, guilt turned to anger, and anger turned to bitterness. And in turn, I spread that bitterness to my son. If you are steeped in bitterness, bitterness is what you brew.

I looked for help with the youth pastor, nothing but a lesson plan for Bible study with no follow through. I asked some young men for help by mentoring. No one had the time. I asked at his christian school. That got me a "you're not doing your job and you're leading that boy down the wrong path." Oddly enough, all of this actually led me to be turned down for several positions at a nearby christian university since I obviously was ineffective because my son misbehaved. I no longer wanted to serve at church or attend because I hated hearing what others thought I could not about my son. No help. No encouragement, and nothing but an empty promise of prayer that I'd find something or someone to help. 

Let's fast forward to present day. My son does not serve the Lord. He is agnostic, and skeptical. He is inventive, proud, smart, funny, arrogant, and opinionated. And I LOVE him. He still lies even though I'm not sure he thinks I know it and he is far from perfect. And I still LOVE him. And he loves me. We still talk about the Bible, and faith. He talks, I listen. I talk and he listens. But I'm sure that he will never, ever listen to those who said he needed to fit into one kind of mold. And neither will I. I have tasted that cup of bitter tea, and I don't think I can handle it again.

On his birthday, just a few days ago, he wrote a comment on another entry on this blog: "I don't think you understand how great a mother you are. No one is perfect, but you have the biggest and most giving heart of anyone most people have ever met. I know that no one will ever love me more than you do, and I'm incredibly lucky to have you as a mom. . . . " That comment made for a very nice cup of tea indeed. And because of our relationship, I hold to God's promise that my son will come to Him.

I'm not perfect. I won't be until I see Heaven. None of us will. But in grace I know that I taught my son of Christ's love and gift of eternal life, and I am praying that he will see Christ's love in me. I love him. But, I do want him to change in one way. I want him to accept the Lord if he has not done so, and I want him to serve Christ as he is led by his own convictions and talents. I want to walk in Heaven with all of my children and praise Christ with them for eternity. I steep in the grace of God's love and forgiveness. 

Us imperfect people, we need help sometimes. Not judgment. Not a list of all the things we should be. But a loving hand, a whispered heartfelt prayer, and reminders of how God sees us as perfect through Christ's sacrifice. If you need help, seek out someone who speaks of changing through God's grace. If you know of someone who needs help, reach out in love. Don't turn away or spew platitudes and empty promises. 

Christ admonished us to love one another. And steeping and saturating in His love makes our brew the sweetest and best for ourselves and others. 

Crackpot?

Mental Illness: a term fraught with stigma and shame. According to the National Institute of Mental Health: "Mental disorders are common in the United States and internationally. An estimated 26.2 percent of Americans ages 18 and older — about one in four adults — suffer from a diagnosable mental disorder in a given year."

Given those numbers, we can be sure that each of us knows someone who suffers from a mental disorder. Probably several someones. And it's not unlikely to be the person in the mirror. As Christians, we can not afford to ignore a quarter of the population just because the term "mental illness" makes us uncomfortable. 


What Christians Need to Know About Mental Health provides a poignant insight into the mind of a young woman who has dealt with mental illness. She is also on the road from guilt to grace, and I'm sure her page will move you as it did me.

I'd love to hear from some of you concerning your struggles or the struggles of friends. My mission is to encourage those who are struggling in guilt and need help, inform those who could help on how to handle issues in love and grace, and enable all of us to work together to glorify God.

The Teapot SCREAMS

Since today is "Throwback Thursday" I thought I'd share an experience from the early 80's and take a break from the serious and sad, and go with light and fluffy.

I grew up an only child. I had eye problems that to this day cause issues with my depth perception. My parents were very loving, and protective and spent a lot of time and money to help correct some issues with my eyes resulting in three operations when I was six and seven. I stumbled on stairs (still do) and curbs (still do) and missed the other side on jumps (ditto) because I couldn't (and can't) judge the distance correctly.

All that to say this: When it comes to adventurous endeavors involving physical activity, I am a complete chicken. I don't need a big adrenaline rush from jumping off cliffs, parasailing, or roller coasters. I have plenty stored up right here in my near-sighted, imaginative brain.

But after I married a thrill junkie, and taught hyper high school kids for a year or so, I decided that I needed to conquer my inner-chicken and ride a roller coaster. Looking back, I'm sure it was all because of some stupid sense of pride, with the key word there being "stupid."

One lovely spring day my husband and I took off for Six Flags Over Georgia for a break from teaching and paramedic-ing. We went to shows, and rode the the water rides, and then came the question that changed the day: "Wife" he said, "Do you still want to conquer your first roller coaster ride?" "No." I answered. Then "Yes." Then "No," etc. for about an hour. Then finally, "Yes. Yes! Okay. Let's go."

We approached the park's famous roller coaster "The Great American Scream Machine." I should have known from the name that this was a bad idea, but now my stupid pride pushed me forward. As I stood in line, I watched children barely tall enough to ride this wooden monster jump into the frail looking cars hooked together with chains made of what must surely be paper clips. They hopped in smiling, took off, and returned with bigger smiles and shouts of "Again! Again!" I could do this. I'm no kid. I'm a GREAT AMERICAN and this is my MACHINE.

Finally, we came to the front of the line, and my husband in some fit of mistaken sense of help asked for the front car. "It will be easier" he said.  I smiled, (Not really) and climbed in and let the faceless executioner nice ride worker secure us "for our safety." And we began the click, click, click of our slow ascent to the top of the universe.

And I screamed. Then I screamed again, "We are all FOOLS!" Not even at the top, I began to cry. I mean really cry as in the big, huge drops that always melted my mom's heart. We reached the peak of the pinnacle of the top of all things known to man, and as we paused at the top I surveyed the world for the last time, and then we dropped. I get a little short of breath just reliving this, so bear with me. . . . Okay. We sped through loops and ups and downs while the tears that flowed from my eyes flowed back into my well-moused 80's style hair. And this GREAT AMERICAN helped this wooden monster earn its name and I SCREAMED, and I cried, and my hair blew, and I plotted my husband's death, and then it was over. 

Our car pulled into the station, and I sat there stunned. The nice ride worker mentioned that I should get out of the car because others were waiting. I looked at him, but didn't really see him. My husband led me out. "Take a step with your right foot, now your left. Oh, and you should breathe." I finally found my way to a curb clear of traffic, and I plopped down, and continued plotting the death of my husband, along with the death of that nice ride worker, all those little enthusiastic kids, and the inventor of the roller coaster. I could tell my husband felt badly for me, but he kept looking at me and stifling a chuckle. That chuckle did not bode well for the dismantling of my death plot for him. 

After around thirty minutes, the world came back to a semi-normal level and I went to the restroom to wash the dried tears from my face. I walked in and looked in the mirror. As I mentioned, my hair was moussed and that I had cried huge tears of terror. Those tears had flowed back into the hair at my temples, melded with the mousse, and dried. While the rest of my hair had a nice, wind blown look of death, that hair stuck straight out from the side of my head like the bristles of a broom. I began laughing. It was a hoarse, scratchy laugh due to the vigorous screaming. But it was a hearty laugh because I looked so ridiculous and because I was happy to be alive. 

This roller coaster created hair style was not a good look, and I am grateful that this all occurred before the advent of phone cameras. Not that I'm really all that vain, but because my husband would have taken the picture and make it my profile picture, and then I would have been widowed and in jail in my twenties.

I'm sure there's spiritual application in there somewhere. God's grace protecting all those innocents from certain death by allowing me to laugh at my hair. Perhaps the experience showed me that I could try some things that made me uncomfortable without actually dying. Or maybe, I just needed to mark this off my bucket list early before I had kids, so that I could allow them to ride without fear due to my great example of the past -because I certainly wasn't going to join any one on any future roller coaster rides. Or maybe, God allowed me to do this so I could make you laugh. Hope it worked. 

Love and screams,
Teapotjan

Turning the Teapot Away

Yesterday a close friend of mine had surgery. She came through it well, and I believe that she will feel the better for it. She's been a dear, sister/friend for twenty four or more years, and this is the first time I couldn't be with her during her recovery. Needless to say, we have some history. Our longtime friendship allows us to look back to hard times and remind each other that if the Lord got us through a huge mess before, then surely He will do it again. As I prayed for her my mind wandered back to a few of those huge messes and how the reaction of some of our acquaintances actually made the situations much more difficult. Judgement instead of compassion. Selfishness, instead of edification. Separation instead of love. I'm no longer bitter toward the people involved, but in my human form it wouldn't take much to get me back there. Fortunately, I serve a very loving, patient God.

Many years ago my friend's husband was killed in a motorcycle accident. She found herself in the midst of the spiritual battle of her life. She questioned God. She questioned living. She questioned everything. Our Sunday school class responded quickly, surrounding her and her school-aged children with support and love. That time stands out to me as a beautiful example of God's children caring for one another. Emotions ran high. Promises of support poured from the mouths of friends. For quite awhile, those promises were honored, and our group of friends grew very close. 

As time passed, emotions waned as did the support. There was one "friend" who had been close friends with the husband, and whose children were close to my friend's children. After a few months, he committed such an unthinkable act of selfishness, that he sent her children into a spiral away from all things remotely dealing with church and God. It was devastating to my friend, to me, and to those few who knew about what happened. Because of this unspoken act, our group grew apart, some of our children moved away from the Lord, and friendships were irreparably damaged.Those involved may be in Heaven before this issue can be fully resolved. But we often remind each other that God knows of the cowardice and selfishness involved. It's a bitter thing to swallow without becoming bitter. 

Being a young mother, my friend wanted companionship and a husband to help her guide and lead her children back to the Lord. Eventually, she began dating a series of men all thought to be properly Christian and faithful to church. There were lies, improper proposals, and many tears involved, until she met the man that is now her husband. They were engaged. We started planning the wedding. We were all happy for them. They were both smart, intelligent people. She was a widow, and he was . . . divorced. 

What? Divorced? Why? Did it fit within proper biblical standards? Where was his wife? He filed for it? Oh no, no, no, no. This can't be. Now, it didn't matter to the legalistic folks in our former group that the wife had left him, and moved in with someone else in another state. It didn't matter that both parties getting married were Christians, serving the Lord, and praying for wisdom. It only mattered that the man had filed the papers. The former wife had meantime gone around lying about physical abuse in her marriage, had obvious sin issues, and rejected counseling. But HE had filed the papers. These people (I can't call them "friends") refused to attend the wedding, and have since pretty much little or nothing to do with any of us willing to be involved. The hurt was great. It still is sometimes. These were people that had cried with us, shared holidays with us, fellowshipped with us. Friends that would keep each other's children, and share houses, and stories, and meals. And now, we are barely acquaintances.

I can respect people for having standards and convictions. But I do not respect those who separate from people who are demonstrating a true desire to do what is right. Christ's exemplifies the opposite. In my experience, judgmental actions and attitudes tend to drive those judged further away from church and from God. In grace, loving support can bring people closer to God far quicker than a standoffish, judgmental separation from those now deemed unfit for fellowship. Ah, legalism. If any of these folks read this and recognize themselves and are offended, I'm not sorry. But I do want them to know that living in the Grace of Christ, I would do anything for them if they needed help.

So, I look back, and I forgive (most days),  but I don't want to forget. I need to remember how it felt, and what repercussions their actions had on my friend's family and mine. I must remember. I don't want to shame our Lord by doing the same. I remember so that I can still reach out to those I don't agree with and still help them in love.

I remember because God reaches out to the unlovely, the sad, the confused, and the sinful, and offers love, help, guidance and wisdom. And I remember because God doesn't remember because of the cross.

Love in His precious name,

Teapotjan

Questions? Comments? Stories to share? Please feel free to comment or email me using the links below.

Tears in the Tea

Tears. I confess I'm a cryer. That fact intensified when I hit the wonder of the CHANGE OF LIFE. I cry when I'm happy, I cry when I'm angry, I cry when I'm proud, overwhelmed, sad, terrified and almost any other strong emotion a human can experience. I also cry when I am . . . depressed.

The "D" word. The boogeyman term that haunts christian counselors, and secular psychiatrists through their entire career. It turns good Christians into unsuitable servants, and shuts down amazing people just by showing its boogeyman face. It is blamed for suicide, pain, illness, apathy, weight gain, and the fall of mankind as we know it. Okay, that last one is a bit much, but if you've ever been depressed you know that's kind of how it can feel.

Back in my guilt-ridden days, I believed that any time depression came my way, that I was sinning and not trusting in the Lord as I should. I would cry and repent, and pray for help, and still feel depressed. This concept still reigns in many christian counseling and psychiatry classes. Those who hold that depression is merely a spiritual problem, mostly men, can go so far as to put PMS and post-partum blues in this same category. I cried ANGRY tears at that one. 

I wrote earlier that highly intelligent and creative people often suffer from depression more than other groups. It seems to go with the territory, though it's not exclusive. Depression can affect anyone. It can be crippling, especially when leaders like pastors, counselors, and teachers say it is a spiritual problem. That's just . . . well. . . depressing.

So my answer to all of this? Being depressed it not sinful. It is more often than not the result of an actual physical problem. Low levels of certain chemicals, genetics, stress, and several other medical issues can bring it on. Can it lead to sin and defeat? Why, of course it can. It can even kill us. 

Look at it this way. No normal person wants to be sick. if a person has a cold, they can self-medicate, rest and get over it. If they have a severe illness, like cancer, it needs to be treated by a medical professional.  The sick person leans on others for support. They go through therapy, if needed, and work at getting better. If they don't, they will die. It really doesn't help if the only thing the doctor says at the start is "You have cancer. You are going to be very sick."

Same with depression. No normal person wants to be sad but everyone gets the blues.There are those times when we are weepy, and sad for a short time and then it's over. But sometimes the blues get very dark very quickly and soon envelope those of us prone to depression in a dark, bleak cloud. As Christians, we must learn to recognize what is happening, reach out for help and work to get out of this cloud. If we don't, the depression will grow and we may not survive. Bless me, I don't think telling the person in the middle of a very dark cloud that it's all their fault and they should get out of it is really going to help. Do you?

Don't feel guilty about depression any more than you would feel guilty about getting cancer. Recognize it for what it is and find ways to treat it. I like the commercial that portrays depression as a dark blob that follows a person around. It's always there, but with work, prayer and treatment it can be controlled and made much less of a problem.

Here is a link to another blogger's solution to her battle with depression: My 21 Tips on Keeping It Together During Depression. The viewpoint is secular, but many of the principles are the same. Her original version was much-um-saltier. But at my request, she did what she called an "un-sweary" version. 
Thanks to Rosalind Robertson @www.diycouturier.com I really appreciate your gracious help.

This will not be my only post on depression, I'm sure. It's a battle I fight almost every day. And it is a huge subject worth revisiting. But now, living in grace, I know that I have a Creator who made me as I am. Funny, creative, intelligent, stubborn, and friendly, and prone to depression. He loves me. He understands how sad I am more than any human could. He loves ME. Since I am washed in His blood, He no longer judges me even while He longs for me to do right and serve Him. And He loves me. 

Don't let anyone condemn you for being depressed. If they aren't willing to lovingly help you, and they don't see depression for what it is, then get away from them, and find a loving Christian friend, pastor, counselor, friend who will guide you and show you how the light of Christ shines through the darkness of depression.

Seriously, if you already depressed how in the world is being told you're in sin going to help? Tears of laughter for that one. 

Questions? Comments? Please let me know.

Tea Cozy of Clay

Sunday. It's Sunday and I'm working. Years ago, I had a friend who also taught my Sunday School class. He stated one Sunday that he didn't think he could work a job that kept him out of church. When I asked the reason, he answered that all Christians should be in God's House every service every Sunday, etc. 

That statement was one of the first cracks in the clay of my old fundamental beliefs. At that time, Teapotjan had a cozy made of fundamental clay that had been carefully layered on by years of sermons, chapels, studies, and opinions. And suddenly, after having three children full of "why?", serving in churches most of my life, and standing staunchly in defense of big "F" fundamentalism, my teapot cozy was starting to show scratches and scrapes. I was asking myself about all the inconsistencies I had noticed all along, but had been schooled to ignore. 

Now,let me say that I am "fundamentalist" in the essence that I believe in inspired Word of God, the virgin birth, Christ's death and resurrection, His payment for sin, and the gift of eternal life. I prefer emersion for baptism, but believe that the act of baptism is more about obedience to God's word than method. I give thanks every day that I serve a living Christ, and I want to point people to Him more than anything.

But back to that statement and it's scrape-making powers: most of my family has been long involved in public service. You know the kind like seven days a week, twenty four hours a day, etc.? The day that statement issued from my teacher's mouth was one of my husband's scheduled work days as a paramedic. My father had been a fire-fighter, and we had missed services when he was working. Some of the sweetest Christians I knew had jobs that kept them out of church on a regular basis. Was this person actually implying that going to church all the time made you a better christian? Turns out, he was. Cra-ack. 

Still sporting my clever, clay teapot cozy  I went on to work at a christian university in public safety. (There's another blog post coming on that). So, I missed services from time to time due to work obligations. I must confess that in my adult life, I had never been an "in-church-every-time-the-doors-open" Christian, but I still loved the Lord, and studied the Bible. I felt crippling guilt over and worked at conquering my obvious weakness in fulfilling the definition of "faithful." 

In the meantime, the pastor of my church fell into sin and resigned from the church and from the ministry. That incident made a few hairline cracks. It hurt, but pastors are men and men fall, and God forgives. During this time, my son was having behavioral issues, and my husband and I both ran out of answers and needed some counseling. We met with the new pastor, someone we had known from the university, and asked for help. We were told, pretty much point blank, that we were bad parents. Cra-ack-kack! I was sitting in his office, asking for help and advice and I was a bad parent. I sobbed as we left his office overwhelmed with guilt, grief, and hopelessness. I never went back. Ever. Even now, I am crying as the memory of that day washes over me.

These incidents, along with several others I will probably write about at some point, caused me to question what I believed and why. Why were some of the most "faithful" and noted church members so . . . mean? Why did they call only when they wanted something from me? Why did they criticize, and then look away when we needed help? This was not the Christlike love I expected from the "faithful."

I left that church feeling unloved, and fragile. I worried over the future of my children, my christian walk, my marriage, my job. I began to search for answers in the Bible, from loving, christian friends in churches that didn't have Sunday night services, and from preachers, and teachers not of the staunch fundamental denomination that had helped me layer on this clay tea cozy.

And I found Grace. Loving, everlasting, peaceful, comforting, admonishing Grace. The scrapes turned into cracks, and the cracks turned into splits, and the clay cozy fell away leaving me, the teapot, as myself standing vulnerable and perfect in His forgiving eyes. And then, He wrapped me up in His love. I'm crying again as I type, not overwhelmed by grief and anger, but by the truth of His grace. I think I much prefer these tears to those earlier.

So, here I am working on a Sunday. Praising God. Worshipping Him and thanking Him. I know I'm not perfect and I still pick up pieces of that old clay cozy and try to stick them back on over little dents and kinks in the teapot. But I don't need them, and the Holy Spirit gently reminds me that I am wrapped in forgiveness and love. Since I'm human, I'll never be able to throw that old cozy completely away until I see my Savior's face. But, with His continued help, I'll pack them way back out of sight.

A Kink in the Teapot

When I was a little girl I had no idea that a woman married for thirty years, with three children, a live-in father, a dog, two fish, and two extra friends living in a house could ever be lonely. I grew up an only child, and my summers and holidays passed slowly while I entertained myself on my father's twenty acres surrounded by trees and sky and few, if any, children. I thought that was lonely. 

Now, I have a new perspective. Surrounded by a husband, children, my father, guests, and co-workers, I am often lonely. Deeply lonely. The kind of lonely that makes that kinked-up feeling in your chest that must be the inspiration behind the term "heart-break." 

I'm the kind of person that makes quick friendships easily, but finds making close friends difficult. Even now I can number all of the close friends I've ever had on my two hands. I'm sure it's a trust issue. I don't want to burden others with my problems. And I don't like sharing with someone who can't understand.

Not everyone has the same IQ and each IQ level has its own levels of understanding, strengths and weaknesses. That's fine. God made me intelligent, and I often notice things that an average person doesn't. I notice a LOT of things all at one time, and I can see most, if not all, the sides of a situation. I know people smarter than me. I can't imagine what must go on inside their minds. That much information changes a person's perspective. Studies show that most highly intelligent, artistic, talented people suffer from some level of depression.

All of this quirky intelligence makes me a rather complicated person to understand. Most people don't get it, family members included. The few that do--those are the ones that I can count on two hands. And those people are intelligent, quirky, talented and complicated. They tend to face the same issues I do. They also tend to: be male (having male friends just adds another layer of complicated), be incredibly busy, move away to take, or have some other complicated, intelligent person problem. And I'm still here. Alone. With an occasional phone call or text message the only outlet for months of built up happiness, frustration, and gossip. 

There's that kinked-up feeling in my chest again. Honestly, I feel badly for being sad. I have a loving, but overly busy, and overly tired husband. I have three kids with strong minds, and strong opinions. I have a loving father that thinks I can walk on water. I have a great dog that thinks I am second only to bacon. I also have many people who look to me for advice, a smile or laugh, and support. My biggest issue is that if I can't find a support for my own needs I'm afraid that someday I'll let them all down-BIG time. Signal huge kinked-up feeling and tears.

So, why am I not screaming, and sobbing in a fetal position under the bed all the while begging someone to help me? Well, I have been. And Someone came  to my aid. "I will never leave you or forsake you," He says. On a human level I think, that isn't quite what I meant, but on an eternal level,I realize it's perfect. I have a hope in Christ. A Christ that completely understands me, complications and all. He has promised an eternity free of that kinked-up feeling in my chest, tears, and loneliness. And He helps me understand that it's okay to be sad. But He also reminds me of the grace He gives day by day to handle what He allows in our lives.

Am I still lonely? Yes. Do I want a close friend around that can share my burden and laugh with me and cry with me and understand who I am? Yes. Will I perish if I don't find anyone? No. I have the greatest Friend of all, and He will give me the comfort and support I need.

With love,
A Servant of Christ, 
Teapotjan