The Teapot's Wish List

We've hit Christmas time. It came quickly this year. November flew by as I was working on my master's class, doing early shopping, working, and planning for the holidays. It's that time when I ask, and am asked "What do you want? Do you have your wish list? No, really, what do you need?"

Well, I'm at a point in my life where I have a lot of things, too many actually. And the material things that I might want or need are related to home improvement or vehicle upgrades. In other words, stuff way too high priced for a typical wish list. So I usually mumble something like "iTunes gift card" or "candles" or "chocolate." I don't really want or need much of anything. I'd far rather give them something that makes their eyes light up, and their breath catch in their throats, and brings them absolute delight. That's a better gift than a million dollar gift card.

With all that said, I've been spending a little extra time in my van doing a few extra errands. For me, that means some deep thinking and intense prayer time. I can pray out loud, and if (read "when") I start to cry, I can pull over for a few minutes, and sob without freaking out my family. Last night was one of those times. I have my own personal battles to face, and last night I took time to ask God a few hard questions. And in the darkness of my van, as I drove to a place to stop for a few minutes, I heard a still, quiet voice ask "What do you want from Me? What do you wish for your life?"

I honestly was stunned that I had no good answer. I mean I have thought about what three wishes I would share should a genie ever pop out of a lamp. But what to ask of God? Peace? Happiness? Money? The outcomes I wanted to the hard questions that I asked? But all of that seemed selfish and they all fell short of a good wish list to give the Almighty. My mind raced around characters in the Bible, and what their answer would be. 

And then Solomon's answer came to mind. He asked for WISDOM. Not riches, or knowledge, or love, or material goods, but WISDOM. And God granted his request. Solomon became wise, and rich, and loved, and blessed and blessed and blessed. Asking for Godly wisdom was the ultimate wish. If he received money, he knew how best to use it. If he was asked to settle a problem, he had the best answer, and he knew how to handle the talents and resources God provided.


So my request of the Most High, Creator of All? Please Lord, grant me Godly wisdom. Show me how to treat those who cross my path and show them your light. Show me what to do with my money. Help my heart to stay tender to your leading. And help be wise enough to be at peace with your will. 

Merry Christmas!

Teapotjan

Picket Fences and Rainbows, Part Three

I enjoyed hearing from a few of you concerning things you believed made you a "good Christian." Some of your comments made me laugh, and others brought back some pretty strong and ugly memories. On the light side, many of you share my extreme dislike of hose and culottes. But one of the most hurtful things I heard concerned the treatment of women.

One reader wrote: "How about women are to be seen and not heard? Or women should never question a man in authority, pastor, husband, Sunday school teacher....ANY MAN for that matter! Obey and never ask why!!" In some families, this applied to any male in the family over the age of twelve! And in many, many churches, women could not prayer or read scripture if a male was in the audience. This puzzles me because God treats each of us as His children, and the Holy Spirit dwells in all of us.

Suffice it to say that many of the things we did in the name of being a good Christian really messed with our thought patterns and attitudes. A friend shared an article on Facebook this morning pointing out some of the common issues. Here's the link: The Sad Twisted Truth About Conservative Christianity's Effect on the Mind. And the promise that all will be well if we were "good kids" and "rejoiced always" and "praised the Lord anyway" fell through and hit the depths of our heart with a sickening and resounding thud.

We grew up. And some marriages failed. And some of our children turned away from God. And bad things happened. Not just a few bad things, and not just little things, but huge life-altering, OH GOD, WHY? things, one on top of another. And the picket fences broke and the paint peeled, and cancer, and sickness and death happened, and debts came, and the rainbows hid behind dark clouds or ended in the yard of some awful low life that didn't deserve the blessing like you did. Why? Why? Why?

And then, the Holy Spirit gently reminds us of the good things that actually do come from the source that all those long sermons and empty promises of our childhood claimed to use but messed up: God's Living Word. 

I Corinthians 4:7-12 (ESV). 

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken;struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

Pleasing God has nothing to do with wearing hose, cutting hair, working ourselves silly, and going to church every Sunday. It has everything to do with His provision and grace. We suffer because we live in a sinful, imperfect world as sinful, imperfect people, where the effects of sin cause bad, imperfect terrible things to happen. But God, says that he fills these sinful, imperfect vessels or "jars of clay" with treasure. Showing that He gives us the good things, and that we can not earn them. It's just Him. That's all. Period. 

So, where are our picket fences and rainbows? In I Corinthians 4, we read in verses 16 through 18:

Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

Our picket fences and rainbows come on this earth in the smile of a friend, the warmth of a child's hug, and for me-chocolate. 
But our eternal "picket fences and rainbows" wait ahead in Heaven, where all our struggles and worries will seem as silly and transient as the tears of a toddler crying over a perceived injustice. 

We have just a short time here in this imperfect, sinful, temporary world. Our destination is perfect, timeless, and forever! What now seems so monumental and virtually unbearable (and it is as long as we are here) will dissipate. Glory is ahead. We shall see Him! We won't even need picket fences, and the rainbows will circle the throne of God! 

That's a wonderful promise, something to really hold on to take us through these awful times. Heaven is waiting! 

Looking ahead!

Teapotjan

Picket Fences and Rainbows, Part Two

As mentioned in the first part of "Picket Fences and Rainbows" I've been walking down some of the darker paths of my memories. There's been some sorting and categorizing, and a lot of pondering this week. I apparently touched a nerve with many, and I think I'll poke a few more this week.

Looking back at many of the things I thought I HAD to do in order to be a good Christian this week, I've been angry, guilty, sad, and giggly. Here's some of the things I recall, and I'd love to hear from you and some of your "had-tos." These are not universally from all fundamental churches and schools, but these are some of the things that I have heard or experienced in my fifty-three years.

1. House must be clean at all times in case company came over in order to not have a bad testimony. Yes, I heard this preached from a pulpit more than once.

2. Dresses, and skirts all of the time for us gals. If you were wearing pants around the house, and company came over, you changed while someone appropriately dressed answered the door.

3. Church attendance "every time the doors opened" unless you were dead, in the hospital, or dead. I have to confess that as a teen I found church very, very boring, but I went anyways because I had to.

4. Clothes that didn't "cup" any body part, even a little. I seriously heard one very embarrassed lady speaker say that we really shouldn't appear to have round breasts or hips. 

5. Don't question God's anointed, meaning only the pastor or evangelist or missionary that preached. And I have so many things that wished I had questioned back in those days.

6. At one point, no wire rim glasses for men because that's what "hippies like Jon Lennon wore."

7. From another preacher, around the same time, no big, plastic glass frames because of that "Elton" rock musician.

8. One terrible piece of women's clothing: hose. I personally believe that panty hose were invented by a very angry man who hated women and his lecherous brother who was secretly a "leg man."

9. No current secular music, at all. It should be at least a decade old, and then listen only if it fit the approved style, beat, words, etc.

10. God's anointed apparently required much nicer cars than a lay person because they drove so much. (This one really gets me, when I realize that many usually sent deacons, and junior pastors to do the visiting).

11. Door to door witnessing and visitation. I can't say that this was entirely bad, but saying that everyone should be ashamed if they didn't do this on a regular basis? What about family life?

12. Leading at least one soul to Christ a year, preferably one a month or more.

13. Remembering the exact date and time and place and outfit and every detail about when you were saved.

14. 1611 KING JAMES VERSION. I am still hearing preachers on the radio say that if you were not saved through the KJV, then you should question your salvation. I. AM. NOT. MAKING. THIS. UP. Pretty sad for all those non-english speaking folks, am I right?

15. And suits and ties for the men, the male equivalent of wearing hose. Every service, every visitation, every speaking engagement except at a Christian camp when jeans became temporarily acceptable.

16. Speaking of jeans--just no. Not for women-ever, and most men-unless they were needed at work. Denim was for work, and any time else-the Devil.

17. NO pre-recorded sound tracks for special music. They were worldly, and the beat was "the Devil's music."

18. Just one word: Culottes.

19. I would say that we were told to avoid gay people, but honestly I didn't know or hear much about them except from sermons about some awful place that they all apparently ran around naked having constant "illicit, unnatural relations and abominations."

20. Worldliness. We could never be "worldly." That included everything from using a current word like "groovy" (Handle it. I'm a child of the sixties.) to the styles that we wore. Example? Maxi skirts were banned at my high school because it was the current trend. 

I know some of my comments are rather tongue in cheek, but this list contains actual things from sermons, and rules I have heard, and followed all in the name of being a good Christian. These seem very shallow now, but I believed they were necessary back then. Thank God for growth, and wisdom and Grace.

Share some of yours, if you will. I'd love to see what we have in common. Next post, we'll do a little bit more traveling in the dark, and then come the rainbows!

Serve God. Love others.

Teapotjan

Picket Fences and Rainbows

Meeting up with friends recently threw me into a particularly nostalgic mood. As is the usual case with this mind God gave me, that brings up both good and bad memories.

I'm very thankful for long time friends. God uses our shared experiences to remind us of His faithfulness during the difficult times, and His provision during the lean times. Sweet fellowship, tears, shared blessings and burdens renew our spirits for the journey ahead, and remind us of our purpose to serve Christ. These memories, precious and rare, are gifts.

And then, when the warmth of that sweet fellowship begins to fade, my mind (bless its heart) goes meandering down some of the darker paths in my past. But I've learned that those darker memories sometimes can also be a blessing in a different way.

Growing up in a very fundamental background, I followed the rules. I was the good girl. The example. The one church leaders pointed to and said "Ask her to help, she'll be glad to do whatever."

And they were right. I was dependable, hard-working, smart, and willing. I kept the nursery. I taught Sunday School. I sang solos when asked. I dressed modestly (no pants and always hose). I acted appropriately. Blushed accordingly, and I obeyed my parents, and respected my elders. My dad was a deacon, and church pianist. My mom taught Sunday school, and spoke in ladies's fellowship groups. In other words, we were a very good, church-going family. Indeed, we had two churches get their start in our living room.

I was saved at an early age. I am sure of that. God gave me assurance early and that has never been much of a personal struggle. My struggles come from a misperception rooted early in my life. The misperception that if I were the "good, go-to, I'll get right on that and work myself to death girl" that everything in life would turn out correctly. My spouse would be the love of my life. My children would be perfect and serve the Lord, and life will be easy-peasy, white picket fences, and rainbows.

All those high school chapel sermons said as much. If we did as we were told, and the guys grew to lead their homes, and the gals learned to submit to the guys, then God would bless us with sweet, obedient children and a Heaven on earth existence. Those families with problems like divorce, and drinking, and wayward children? They blew it badly somewhere, strayed and God had withdrawn His blessing. And we all knew that was pretty much the end of the world. One terrible thing, and that was it. Wasting away in the sea of sin until finally rescued by death or The Rapture, just barely saved by the skin of their teeth.

So, I went to weekend camps, threw my stick in the fire, and wept and prayed. I was always going to the altar at church to confess yet another weakness. And frankly, I felt being a Christian was really, really hard. Nevertheless, I continued on to attend a Christian University, and the teaching there was a little deeper, but the main point was the same. Do right, and life will be good. I followed the path set before me. Broke up with the guy that my parents didn't like, and married the guy that they did like. What in the world could go wrong?

In the next post, I'll continue down some of the dark paths of my memory, but not to worry, there are a few rainbows ahead.

Looking back to learn how to go forward,
Teapotjan

Treasured Teapots and Filthy Rags

Looking back on some of the attitudes and teaching from my fundamental past, one in particular keeps popping up in my thoughts lately. I sat through many sermons about the sinful nature of the human race and a Christian's own futile attempt to be anything but a filthy rag. I and the others in the congregation were call "vile," "wretched," "putrid," and "useless."  This often threw me into a fit of guilt and hopelessness, especially when I battled depression. Isaiah 64:6 was the usual text for this teaching: 

But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousness is as filthy rags;and we do all fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.

Please don't mistake what I am saying as heresy. Every human carries the burden of sin. All of us. Every. Single. One. From Adam to the newest child born seconds ago, not one of us can meet the requirements of perfection demanded by a Holy and Righteous Creator. We must look to Christ and His sacrifice to cover our sins and pay that debt. If you are reading this and don't understand what I'm saying, contact me and I'll be more than happy to explain.

But the consideration of that sacrifice started me thinking. Why would an omnipotent God make such a tremendous sacrifice for a bunch of throw away filthy, putrid, wretched, vile, useless beings? Then, I thought about the loveliness of my own children and how (on most days) it was hard to see them as "wretched.
I would do anything for these fellow sinners, and I am a mortal, imperfect human with a limited ability to love. How much more can God feel and do?
As I have often done in this journey, I turned to Scripture, and studied for myself, no longer dependent on man's interpretation, and I realized that the filthy rags mentioned in Isaiah do not refer to me, but to my feeble attempts to live up to His standards. If we attempt to do so, we fail miserably, and those attempts dry up and blow away like the leaves mentioned in Isaiah.

And another question popped up. If God sees our works as filthy rags, why do we even bother doing them? Back to Scripture:

Psalm 149:4

For the Lord takes pleasure in His people; he adorns the humble with salvation.

Also, as Genesis gives the account of Creation, we find that we were made in His image, and that He called His creation "good." The advent of sin did not diminish His pleasure in his creation. We are His jewels, His treasure, His delight, and He actively pursues ALL of us to join in fellowship with Him. It occurred me to at this point, that ALL of us must actively choose to either accept or to not accept His plan for eternal fellowship. And when we do accept this gift, and give Him praise, He receives pleasure and honor and love. He delights in our worship and works in His name.

Treasured, and protected by God. Loved in spite of failings. Sought after by the Most High. I will praise Him and He will be delighted!

Teapotjan

Serve God, Love others.

If I Could Fade Away

If I could fade away

• by Teapotjan, 21 minutes, 4s ago

If I could fade away from this place, this earth, this mortal vale.
And leave behind no tears, no sorrow, no regret, no fail.
I would.
I would fade away and fade, until vapor marked my final tear,
And be not sad, not hurt, not mortal, not . . . .here.
I should.
I should not feel this way at night, in the morning, and the in betweens.
My own self wars against me, and loses, and wins, and screams.
I could.
I could leave, but the leaving would be like a slash in time.
And I would cause tears, and sorrows, and regrets not mine.
I won't.
I won't fade away until God erases my breath, my heart, my place.
I'll stay and work and live in Grace.
I'll wait.

RIP Robin Williams.

Teapotjan

Teapot Tedium

This summer has been a time of reflection, rumination, and the resulting melancholy that a mind like mine always seems to sink into when reflecting,and ruminating.

There has been change that heralds further change: some good, some bad, and some that completely fills me with uncertainty and dread. But through all of this, one thing remains constant and unchanging, the love and grace of the God of creation.

I've often said that my favorite attribute of God is His immutability. Humans have their ups and downs. Our daily routine, in spite of the mundane nature of the term, can send our spirits soaring or plunge our souls into darkness. We develop from innocent, helpless, small beings into flawed adults with emotional baggage and ridiculous expectations in less than twenty years. Friends come, and go. Loved ones visit, grow older, and pass from our lives into eternity. We live in a constant state of change even when life seems tedious. All the while, God watches, unchanging and and unsurprised.

                                                      Overwhelmed_by_marjol3in

Speaking of tedious, the past week or so has defined the word "tedious." One occurrence after another led me to question God. Have I not learned enough? Am I not patient and kind? Is this really what you want for me? Can happiness not last more than a few minutes? Must reality step up immediately and slap us in the face? I want to be happy. I'm tired of crying. If things must change, why can't I have the change that I want? 

Many questions, some doubt, a lot of hurt, and disappointment. This isn't the first week in my life that has been tedious, and it won't be the last. So, how to hang on? 

And then, reminded by the Holy Spirit, I remember: 

As tedious and difficult that our time on earth might seem, even as the day grows longer, and the tears flow, and the losses seem unbearable, in the light of eternity these days are nothing. NOTHING. For those who believe in God's plan, and His gift of salvation, this is as bad as it will ever get. Our worse day on this planet defines our worse day in all of eternity. 

That doesn't mean that these days aren't hard. 

And with my flawed memory,  I will need reminding again and again. 

But when the realization of that truth washes over me, it feels like a breeze holding the promise of a cool night on a very hot day. 

It shines through my dark clouds of depression like a lighthouse marking my home in the distance. 

I'm not yet comfortable all the time, and I'm not home yet. But I see it ahead. Our unchanging, loving God waits there. He knows my path. He knows I struggle. He loves me. 

Looking ahead,

Teapotjan

Teapot's Resolution

The Place I Should Stand

Janet Lindsey O'Brien

Grasping an arm. 

Clutching a hand. 

But still being pulled from the place I should stand. 

Being pushed by the longings that tear at my heart,

and the knowledge that leaving could be a new start. 

I want that life. 

I want to be me. 

No voice to say "wait."

I want to be free. 

To live in the now, and learn from before, and look to tomorrow with promise of more. 

But…

The arm leads to shoulder, 

The hand wears a band. 

The voice calls "I love you" from the place I should stand. 

Promises made. Promises kept. 

The shoulder is wet, 

with the tears I have wept. 

I'll stay in the place I promised to be. 

But that pulling and pushing shook something big free. 

I'll stay in this place, but I can't be the same. 

There'll be no more waiting. 

I won't play that game. 

I want the support of that arm, hand and voice. 

But if it's not there, I chosen my choice. 

I'll act on my own while I stand in my place, 

And I'll fight to be me and set my own pace. 

Squeezing an arm. 

Holding a hand. 

Still staying put in the place I should stand. 

I can be me, and he can be he. 

And my pushing and pulling brings that new start to me!

With love,

Teapotjan

Abusing the Abused

Tom, cowered and limping walks into his local bank asking to meet with the loan officer, Howard. Tom's face is drawn, and dark shadows surround his eyes. He avoids looking directly at the loan officer at first, but after a deep breath, he looks up and says "I need help. My store was robbed two years ago by the Mayor's son, Robert. He stole most of my inventory, and I have never quite recovered the loss. I didn't report it because I was so ashamed that I couldn't protect my store. But, I've come to the point that I must do something in order to buy food, and escape from the fear of being robbed again." 


Howard motions Tom to sit, and after 

confirming that Tom has spoken to no one else, begins: "Well, we shouldn't take this to the police because public knowledge of the Mayor's son thieving ways would really hurt our little town's reputation, wouldn't it? But I'll be glad to lead you through the process of recovery.I really, truly want to help you, Tom. You're a good friend, and the city loves you." And then Howard begins his questioning. 

"First, did you in any way ever invite Robert to steal your merchandise? You know, did you ever give him a discount or a free item?Because that's like an open invitation to someone like Robert. Oh, and did he take anything that you were glad to be rid of? If so, he really kind of did you a favor, didn't he? And finally,have you called Robert to tell him that you have forgiven him for stealing your things, and to ask him to forgive you for allowing it to happen?" In desperation, and disbelief, Tom gets up quickly, and leaves without so much as a glance back. Two days later, they find his body in the burned ruins of his store. And Robert's father complacently carries on the work of running his small town. "Poor Tom," the mayor says, "I hate he lost his store, but he kind of brought it on himself. At least our fine city is still safe and sound in the eyes of the public."

Honestly? I feel silly writing this, but I'm trying to make a serious point. This is how many Christian organizations treat victims of sexual and physical abuse. The abused, already broken and ashamed, finally muster the courage to come forward about their abuser, and are questioned about what they did to cause the abuse. What convoluted thinking! Further, one of the first things they are asked to do is forgive their abuser, and ask their abuser to forgive them. ARGH! Now, I agree that we must forgive our enemies and those that hurt us. I know that's an important part of the healing process. But it is rarely, if ever, the first part. Pushing for a major move like that early in the process compares to asking a gunshot victim to rummage their own wound for the bullet. 

The following comes from Rebecca Davis, a friend of mine who stands staunchly in support of abuse victims. She just posted this on her Facebook page as I sat to write this entry. In lieu of what I had planned to write, here is what Rebecca shared, followed by a link to her page so that you can read the comments and responses:

**I just received this from a survivor friend who asked to be kept anonymous. Please read and tag any friends who might be interested in having a better understanding. It's public, so anyone can read it.**

I want to share something through Rebecca to many of you who read her posts. I am one of the many who Rebecca speaks for when she posts about abuse that happened at BJU. She knows many of the details of my experiences and BJU’s response to it.

Many of the things that Rebecca posts, I experienced first hand. She has seen some of the written records of my experiences. I wonder sometimes, what it is that makes so many read her posts and turn away, either without commenting, or telling her that she should remain silent. I realize that many don't know very much personally and don't want to comment on something they have little understanding of, but there are some who believe these things shouldn't be stated. If Rebecca has seen evidence of what she is writing about, does that not qualify her to be free to speak? to be free to plead for understanding?

There are many of us reading her posts and wishing that we had the freedom to share our experiences ourselves and know that we are still welcome within the church community. I am one of those who has found that church is not really a safe place for survivors of abuse. While there are most definitely specific people and even leaders within some church communities who have shown me much kindness and compassion, the church--both locally based churches as well as the Church in general--just really doesn’t have a place for us; many in the churches want us to remain silent.

I know many of the people who reported to GRACE about their experiences at BJU. Most remain silent and most stay away from churches. I don’t know of many who are willing to openly discuss the abuses and responses at BJU. When I read your comments on Rebecca's posts, I feel very alone and know that “church” is not really a place for me, nor is it a place for other survivors, particularly for those whose offenders are well liked and admired by the Christian community.

Please understand that I think we should always speak wisely and with caution. Accusations should not be made lightly. Also, we are limited in ever truly understanding the motivation of those who did wrong. Many involved in all of this are “nice” people. Many are people who have done many good things in their lives. I am not arguing this. It doesn’t however, negate the fact that many have been deeply wounded by “nice” people who have sexually abused and/or raped them. Many have been deeply wounded by the counsel from “nice” people who caused further harm to the victims.

I realize that because many of us still live within the vicinity of BJU, there are many very strong emotions that are stirred when this topic comes up. Some people comment directly on Rebecca’s posts. Others comment elsewhere, in writing and/or in varied conversations with others. I have a few questions for you.

Many of you state that you don’t condone abuse, but you still often make statements that we should be silent until there is proof. Why is that? What kind of proof is needed? Why do so many find it wrong that we discuss our experiences and/or allow Rebecca to be a voice for some of us? Why do so many feel that we all need to remain silent until the GRACE report is completed? Is each of us supposed to remain alone until an outside agency verifies our experiences? In one of the most recent articles published, some victims spoke directly of their experiences. Documentation was included in the article that backs the victim’s claims and show at least some evidence of BJU’s response. Yet many still act as if it isn’t enough. Instead, the news agency who reported is questioned about their motivations in reporting. Why? Some have seen it as wrong for victims to speak to a secular news group. Why? If they are willing to take the time to verify the truthfulness of the claims, what makes it wrong for us to speak with them? Telling us that we should not speak to a “secular” reporting group feels very much like what we were taught at BJU, not to report our abuse to “secular” authorities, to let the “church” handle it. We see how well that worked. Offenders simply moved on to other victims, and abuse continued.

I have waited for a long time, mostly silently, for the GRACE report to come out. As the months have dragged on, I wonder if the GRACE report will even make a difference. The fact that GRACE became involved at BJU is miraculous, but what if they had never been hired? Would we all be accused of gossiping by telling our experiences without an agency to verify our claims? Is truth true only if GRACE validates it? If our stories can’t be heard now, then what changes simply because GRACE reports our experiences? If you aren’t willing to hear directly from the victims, why will you listen to GRACE? What will you do when the report comes out? Will you believe it? Will you shun the victims who reported? How will we all respond when there are people we care about on both sides, offenders who are loved, others who are loved who covered offenses and provided traumatizing and wrong counsel to victims, and the victims themselves, all within our community? How will we sort this out?

Consider this: what if I witnessed my child killed by a drunk driver in my front yard. What if I held my child, realizing that he is dead, saw the driver exit her car stumbling around in an obvious state of drunkenness, saw her car filled with bottles of alcohol partially emptied. Would I need to remain silent? Could I share my agony, confusion, and suffering with my church family or the community at large, or would I be told to remain silent because the autopsy has not yet been completed and the driver who has admitted to being drunk has not yet been sentenced in court? What if the drunk driver is declared incompetent to stand trial due to some extenuating circumstances? Does that make it any less true that she has killed my child and I am hurting? What if she is a respected leader in the community? Should I hide my pain to protect her? What if she is a Sunday school teacher, well loved within our own church family? Does that mean I must remain completely silent and alone in order to not add to her pain? What if I have forgiven her and have compassion for the struggle she is facing? Does that mean I can’t struggle and be open about my own pain as well?

I have heard many sermons about living in "community" and on being open and transparent about our struggles. Why is that okay ONLY when our struggles aren't connected to Christian leaders who abuse? What if one of us stood in front of your church and recounted our experiences? How hated would we be if doing so brings to light some things that many just don't want to know? Do you know the risk that so many of us took in reporting to GRACE? Do you realize that many of us who did so are right in your midst hearing and reading your responses? Do you understand why we can't go to church?   

Link to Rebecca's Post on Facebook 

Standing in support of the abused,
Teapotjan

Facebook Post from Rebecca Davis

I See Living People

Do you ever look around at the people passing all around? Do you know the people who live five doors down? Three doors? Next door? How about the tired-looking waiter at your favorite lunch time hangout? You've spoken with him a dozen times, but you don't remember his name. I'm not fussing. I'm confessing. We're all busy. We're all tired. And we all need love.

During my time entrenched in the "big F" Fundamentalist mindset, I did look around at those around me. I've been curious all my life. But, often, I quickly dismissed most based on some skewed vision of with whom I should interact. "Oh, her skirt is short!" "He's wearing a necklace." "That couple had a drink with their meal, they can't be Christians. Not really. At least, not good ones."

Looking back, I am dismayed over my inner dialogue concerning the suitability of these souls for my attention. Souls created and loved by the God I serve. Souls going through their own trials and hurts. Eternal souls. And I dismissed them because of a tattoo, the length and style of hair, or the beat of a song coming from their car radio. 

Praise God for His Grace and this journey He has given me! I've always enjoyed meeting people, and when I finally started seeing others around me as Christ did, my options expanded immeasurably! These days my journey from guilt to grace causes my path to cross the paths of many people like those I would have dismissed before. And I am grateful. 

Dear Father, please help me see all of the souls around me as you see them. Help me to love them. Let me serve you by serving them. And help me to point them to your grace and peace.

Always watching,

Teapotjan

What's your Point?

I've wanted to write for the past month, but life has provided road block after road block preventing me from enough quiet, private time to do so. Today, I'm at home from work, not feeling well, and the passion that I need to write a good post just doesn't seem to exist. However, I have my laptop in its proper place, and perhaps as I tap away at the keyboard, the passion will hear me and come to visit.

Lately, many people have commented to me on the state of the church, the state of the country, and the state of the world. There are few, if any, good comments. It seems that civilization, in general, is hurling toward Hades in a hand basket. In my personal life, and in my household, frustrations abound. Someone that I really need to understand how I feel seems incapable of listening without jumping to conclusions (most of which are incorrect), and trying to fix a problem that they don't need to worry about, all the while neglecting the problems that I thought I had clearly explained. Life becomes one big, gigantic, heavy sigh, and a hopeless shrug of the shoulders.

Somewhere between flippant dismissal of the issue, and the dark abyss of giving up exists the place I am today. Befuddled as to why I can't seem to handle this current state except without becoming yet more frustrated, my best relief seems to be bursting into tears. But tears upset the jumping conclusion person, who in turn tries to fix the perceived problem, and when the outcome is once again incorrect, that person becomes defensive. 

Said person recently posted an article on their Facebook page. That piece almost directly opposes several tenets of my current ministry. I had those who messaged me telling me how it hurt them very badly. After discussing it with the poster, and maybe even fighting

a bit about it being taken down, we agreed to disagree, and decided in true American fashion that we were both free to post when we like. Not a satisfying step, and it certainly was not my first choice, but a necessary one to prevent harming the relationship, and in turn, the cause of Christ.

So why was I willing to stop fighting for it to be taken down? Again, it was not my first choice. Still isn't. But as a follower of Christ, I saw that the argument was no longer edifying to anyone. It was hurting the poster, it was hurting me, and it wasn't helping those who were already hurt by the post. It also hit me that I could share the experience as an example of what I feel is happening in evangelical churches around the world.

Our churches are ripping apart over fights just as insignificant as this. Many are so adamant that their way is the ONLY way to dress, worship, pray, preach, sing, interpret Scripture, witness, act, think, speak, that they are driving people from the very Christ they say they want others to accept. Even an issue as seemingly important as the current hot topic of homosexuality and Christians, pales in comparison to the importance of sharing the Gospel of Christ.

Infighting among Christ's followers is no way to show others that we are a people called apart to point others to Him. In most arguments I've observed, the participants aren't pointing toward Christ but at each other in blame.And if we aren't using our strength to serve Him,and point others to Him, what's the use?

I have no one to answer to God for but myself. No one's judgment counts for eternity but God's. I may one day see my earthly attempts at worship burn up like hay, but my place in Heaven was secured by God's gift of salvation and sacrifice. And those works that I did to lead others to Christ will last, not to procure my salvation, but to honor the Savior who procured eternal life for me.

And because of that precious gift, and the desire to follow His commandments: Serve and love God above all others, love others as yourself, I put my argument to the side, and work toward pointing others to Christ.

I'm still hurt. I probably will be for a while. I'm human, and a sometimes fragile one at that. Christ provides a healing balm for the ravages of sin, and the hurt suffered during our walk on earth. He's a GREAT GOD, almighty, and powerful. Look at Him! See His way. And when asked why you can put personal hurts to the side, point to Him!

Serve God, Love others,

Pointing Up,

Teapotjan