Jesus made a feminist out of me

When I first began to venture into the world of the internet for more than just checking email, I started with Twitter - figuring that I could follow pastors, Christian people I'd heard of and see if they had anything interesting to say. Some people don't really have anything interesting to say, (and some should really refrain from tweeting during presidential elections - pet peeve), but others generously and strategically use their online presence to connect people to amazing, wonderful things. 
I followed Helen Burns, as a pastor from a big overseas church that I didn't know too much about - and she linked to this: the SheLoves Magazine manifesto, written by Idelette McVicker. The words stirred something in my heart and began a chapter in my faith walk which has changed me for the better. 
Through reading SheLoves Magazine, I stumbled across Sarah Bessey. She wrote monthly on parenting. Cut to my current crazy fan-girl mad state.  I LOVE Sarah's writing, her cute instagram pictures, her book recommendations - plus she's a Whovian (we got into it at the same time), she is a beautifully gentle parent, her daughter loves to make art to raise money for a good cause, she likes to eat and talk and love and laugh and she doesn't apologize for being different.
Kindred Spirit. (She also loves Anne of Green Gables and would totally get that reference).
Sarah Bessey has written a book called "Jesus Feminist" which my husband IS going to order from overseas for me for Christmas. I must tell him this. She's been doing a synchroblog and this is my small puzzle piece to add.

I'm not a scholar or a theologian. I didn't study women's issues at university. I may not be "qualified" to add to this conversation. But when I think about this quote "Jesus made a feminist out of me" I remember that I don't have to begin everything with an apology for what I am not.

Over the last ten years I have left home, got married and had children, moved town and left friends and been forced to make new ones, and my journey with Jesus has been one that has taken me through the wilderness and the desert and then out into lush open fields and stormy seas. I have had times where I thought of myself of being capable of nothing, nothing at all. Where I looked in the mirror and didn't recognise myself. Where I felt totally empty when I thought about God.

I remember in one of those moments, maybe 8 years ago, being on holiday with my husband and having a God-encounter at dinner with an old friend and one of her friends - two true Jesus feminists. Pizza and conversation turned into prayer and tears as one of them, Emily, prayed over me and spoke the words "Arise, Arise!"

Jesus calls the feminist in me out of hiding. Jesus tells me to no longer stand behind my husband, quiet in his shadow, where it may feel safe and I am not noticed. Jesus has gently and compellingly beckoned my true nature out from behind the walls I built up, and he tells me that I have a part to play. I have a story to tell. I have a song to sing. I have paint to put to canvas, I have ideas and opinions and thoughts that need to be spoken.

To be a feminist is to consider that "women are people, too", by Sarah Bessey's definition.
Sometimes without even realising it, we rank ourselves lower or less important than our husbands or other significant men in our life, for whatever reason - whether it's money, or position, or a vague sense of who "should" make the decisions. I would urge you to re-think those beliefs, if you have them, and to listen to the voice of the Spirit inside of you. God is not just man, but woman - we are both created in his image, male and female. When we deny women the right to speak, or we decide not to speak and bring our thoughts to the conversation, people will only see half of who God is. We need to see the whole. We need to hear the whole heart of God, male and female. We need to read books by men and women, have men and women speaking at our conferences, have men and women leading in our churches and our workplaces. We are best when we are together, each giving the other equal opportunity to share, and valuing each other's input even when we don't understand it. This is the kingdom of God. Beautiful, diverse, messy, passionate and glorious, and full of voices calling out the life God has placed inside them.

I had a word over me earlier this year that God had placed living things inside of me, precious living things, and that I would have to birth them like I birth a child - painful and without much control over the timing. But that God was my midwife and he aid, guide, protect and assist me as a midwife would while I labour.

I'm thankful God is all things. Male and female, midwife, mother, teacher, queen and king. And I'm thankful that Jesus made a feminist out of me and calls me, still, to Arise.

xx Sarah

Holiness, Worship, and the Refiners Fire

I was in my car yesterday listening to a CD that my husband was given for his birthday, "Passion 2013". Our kids have this irritating/cute habit of only wanting the "really REALLY FAST songs" so we don't often get to listen to all the tracks on albums these days.
In any case, I think I just had the baby in the car, and a track came on called "My Delight is in You". I wasn't listening too hard, but then towards the end the song morphed into an old song from my passionate youth. I sung this as a teen worship leader in the Baptist church during the heights of a movement of the Spirit in the late 90's, and hearing it I just felt... I don't know. Confused. Overwhelmed. Nostalgic. Yearning?


The song is called "Refiners Fire" and she sings the chorus which says:

Refiners Fire, My hearts one desire,

Is to be Holy, Set apart for You Lord

I choose to be Holy, Set apart for You my Master

Ready to do Your will

 As I listen to the rest of the Passion song, the lyrics say "Holiness is my desire / Purify, burn in me / Come and make me clean / You refine me in your Fire"

I remember singing those lyrics, so earnest, so naive. Believing that somehow in myself, I could be holy. I could by my devotion and dedication, somehow be set apart for God, for marvellous works for Him. That I was loved, treasured, and wanted because of my desire to be Holy. That God looked down on us singing those words and we were close to him because of this sort of doctrine, for lack of a better word, of Do Christianity Well, and God Will Make Stuff Amazing For You. It was so real to me. And I write this with tears running down my cheeks, because still as I listen to those words, even though the narrative of my life hasn't turned out as I believed 20 years ago, there is something inside me that still wants this. To be Holy. Set apart for You, Lord.

I don't consider myself a bible scholar, by any stretch of the imagination, so when I read those lyrics I feel sometimes lost because I don't know where they come from, what the context is, is it scriptural - what does it even mean to be holy?

I looked it up and found this verse from Zechariah 13, verse 9 onwards:

"In the whole land", declares the Lord, "two-thirds will be struck down and perish; yet one third will be left in it.  This third I will put into the fire; I will refine them like silver and test them like gold. They will call on my name, and I will answer them, I will say, "They are my people", and they will say, "The Lord is our God".

 When I look at my life, from the years of 13 to 32 - (Am I 32? Or 33? I forget and need to ask my mother) - I think those first 10 years of 13 to 23 were just a blur of heady, emotional, earnest and yet completely blind church and christian culture obsession but also God obsession. I have been through periods of thinking I was a fool, and feeling deeply embarrassed by the heights and depths of my emotions in my relationship with God - especially as I was a worship leader during these years, almost every Sunday from when I was 15 onwards - yet I have come to accept that actually, while perhaps I was young and naive, everything I said and did was heartfelt. The way things appeared genuinely was the way that things were. So while I think sometimes my earnest and black-and-white approach to my faith sometimes rode roughshod over people and their unique circumstances, I didn't intend harm. And in fact I probably did do some good.

But when I think of from 22 to now... and I think of that verse in Zechariah... and I hear those lyrics. I'm really just processing it as I write... (as when else do you have a chance? As a mum of 3 littlies). I think I was dumped into the fire. Along with many of my closest friends. And I had plenty of moments where I felt like I called on God's name and he didn't answer.

But He did. I am still here. And this year I feel like He has spoken to me more than in any of the years previous. As I enter a new decade in this journey of faith, I am profoundly grateful for the presence of God in my life, for what he has taught me, for where he continues to lead me. For who he has made me to be by putting me through the fire. By testing me. For I know He is with me. I have never been both more in love with Jesus, and more useless in terms of the "Good Christian Stuff I Should Be Doing". In doing nothing, in failing at every attempt I could make to be "holy", to be a "Good Christian" on my own, I have found my Jesus. I have found my relationship with God again, 20 years on. In the empty space, in my own lack, in my own weakness, God has revealed himself to me.

I still don't think I really know what it means to be holy. I could pontificate on this a while longer but I'm just listening to that song over and over and thinking... it's enough really. It's never us that does the work, it is never our responsibility, we can never be holy of our own accord... all we can do is love.

Here I am, open arms

Draw me close to Your heart

You're my life, You're my refuge

My delight is in You

Insecurity and accepting who you are... part one.

I talked in my very first blog post about a tendency I have had in the past to people please. I am certainly in a better place with this than I used to be, but every now and then the whole area of "what do they think of me?" rears it's ugly head. I have been feeling quite insecure these last two weeks, this could possibly be for a number of reasons: spiritual attack; I'm stepping out and saying and doing things publicly which is making me feel nervous about potentially being judged; I've been too busy and haven't spent enough time with the Lord either just praying or reading, or listening to a podcast. I thought it could be good to write about this because I know a lot of people struggle with feelings of insecurity and with feeling paranoid about what others think about them - what they say/do/dress like and how they live their lives.
When I use the term "people please" I mean the tendency to make decisions to do or say things based on what we think others would want us to do or say, rather than what we want to do or say, or what God would have us do. I think deep down most of us just want to be loved and accepted. Sometimes it's hard to imagine that we can be those things by just being who we are, so we try to adapt ourselves to suit our situation and the people around us.
I didn't so much pretend to be things I wasn't, I used to just hide. I found it really hard to talk to new people, at church or anywhere really, because I thought so hard about what I was going to say and how they would interpret what I'd said, that I'd sabotaged myself before I'd even begun! I've found nothing kills conversation more than overthinking it. Now I don't believe that we should shoot our mouths off either. But I think that when we are living in tune with Jesus and trying to be who he wants us to be, praying and seeking him, we can trust him to help us to be naturally ourselves when we talk to others.
The times when I have felt the worst about myself have been the times when my view of God has been the most twisted. About 5 years ago on summer holiday I read a book which opened my eyes to where my thinking had gone so wonky. The book is "A stone for a pillow" by I think my most favourite author, Madeleine L'engle. The book is about Jacob. The first chapter talks about how we as the western world have taken a "forensic view of God". Here are some quotes from that chapter:

"Far too often we view God as an angry judge who assumes that we are guilty unless we can placate divine ire and establish our innocence"

"This is not God, not the God of scripture who over and over again shows love for us imperfect creatures, who does not demand that we be good or virtuous before we can be loved. When we stray from God, it is not God's pleasure to punish us. It is God's pleasure to welcome us back, and then throw a party in celebration of our homecoming."

I always felt like I was on trial with God. Constantly measuring myself against some crazy, perfect, unattainable standard which I always fell short of. I was so insanely disappointed in myself, and though I knew in my head about grace, I knew God loved me, it had not clicked through to my heart. I'm thankful now that it has. It took time, it took prayer, it took good people around me. But God got me there. When I think of the Lord now and when I'm in his presence I feel 99% of the time just relaxed, free, at peace. I know he cares for me regardless of how often I read my bible, or study, or whether I said something I didn't mean that hurt someones feelings, or whether I lost my temper at my kids, or I thought about things that weren't healthy for me, or ate way too much chocolate when I wasn't even hungry. He doesn't stand in judgement towards me on those things. But if I want to talk about them and deal with them with him, he's cool with that too. And this is not to say that he isn't Lord, King, Master. The line is a tricky one but I think it pays sometimes not to overthink it. 

So I've been trying, this year in particular, to be a bit more me. I used to be very extroverted and I think that is part of who I am that I lost - the chatty part that laughed alot. I think that God would have me be that person, because that was who I was as a child, and I believe that's part of who I am - because the reasons I wouldn't act that way were full of regret and shame and guilt, and I don't believe that God is about those 3 things. God is love, God is hope, God is peace. But it's hard. I do go home sometimes after being out at church, or a practice, or visiting someone and have the "did I talk too much? why did I say that? I hope they don't think I'm being pushy?!" thoughts. But I need to learn to get past those. I know God has things for me to do. And I will not ever be able to do those things if I hide. Our pastor used a quote (he had said it was from Nelson Mandela, but I found online that this is a common mistake and it is actually from Marianne Williamson) in a sermon a few years back that struck home for me, and I try to remember it when feelings of insecurity arise inside me:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others"

I'm done with playing small. If by being friendly and by being myself I alienate some people, then I will just have to accept that. I know that it's not my heart to hurt or offend. I know that I am just trying to love and welcome people. And over time God will help me grow and mature and perhaps I will get a bit better at saying the right thing and have a few less foot-in-mouth moments. Or maybe I won't. Because the more foot-in-mouth moments I have, the more it keeps me humble and keeps me running back into the arms of my God who is waiting to welcome me.

I think I'm going to leave it there for now, but I think I could be often returning to this subject.

xx Sarah

Church, community, and 3 boxes of groceries.

Recently I had a message from a friend – not a really close friend, but not just an acquaintance, certainly someone who I like a lot and intend to call more than I actually do… in any case, a few years ago at church we were making meals for people once a fortnight on a Wednesday morning. Either people from church who were sick, had new babies or were just having a hard time, or if anyone knew anyone from the community we’d make meals for them too. We made a meal for this friend when she was pregnant with her 2^nd child and studying. She wrote me this message and wrote some very special things about how she felt at the time, that she would “never forget the kindness and feeling of support when you showed up with dinner and bikkies for us”. It's amazing how the small things and the practical things make a big difference. She then asked for help for a friend who was struggling. A single mum with 3 kids who has “hit rock bottom emotionally and financially”.

I’m characteristically soft and tend to lean towards wanting to help and save everyone anyway… but this one really got to me. I think because I get quite upset when I hear about not just the physical and practical consequences of the bad stuff that goes down for so many people, but the emotional and spiritual toll it takes on them.

So I sent out a message to about 20 friends from church, I asked if they could buy 1 extra grocery item in their shop that week. I was picturing giving her a small to medium size box of treats. The kinds of things that just make life that little bit nicer – chocolate biscuits, shampoo, body wash, tea and coffee. When you’re really hard up it’s always a choice what you leave out, and with 3 kids I bet she was always at the end of the list when it came to doing the weekly groceries.

Not only did people respond, but they responded BIG time. Not everyone who I got in touch with was able to help, (and this is absolutely not about making anyone feel guilty or stink for not participating because I would never EVER want anyone to feel that way), but 10 people were able to help, and they bought entire bags of things. Blocks of chocolate, biscuits, juice, chippies, gift packs of lotions and shampoos, breakfast cereals, canned chicken, pasta, cash. It was just beautiful. I ended up with one huge box and 2 medium boxes.

When I went over to this woman’s house I had initially a bag with 2 meals and some baking, which she accepted incredibly gratefully. But when I bought in the first box she just stopped in her tracks and shook her head and said “No, no, I can’t accept this – I can’t!” I of course refused to listen, convinced her that there were many of us and that these things had been bought especially for her because we care, at which point she cried and put her head in her hands. I managed to remember to ask if I could give her a hug before I hugged her (always key to not looking like too much of a freak). I showed her a flyer which had our churches number on it, told her she could call if she needed more. She said she would when she “got her s**t together”.

Then she started talking about how she had been doing a parenting course recently, and they had discussed that when things were hard they were, in a way, that much harder because there is no sense of community anymore. That it was amazing how I had these friends and we could pull together to do this, to help someone and each other – but for her she was all alone, she had no one, and it was too hard.

I completely agree with her. In our middle class, first world lives we have gotten extremely accustomed to doing everything alone. We raise our children by ourselves, we don’t know our neighbours very well anymore, there’s not even as much lending and borrowing going on as perhaps there would have been 30 years ago. We have organizations like Plunket and we have the government, people that are trying hard to look out for those on the margins but at the same time telling them to “Get a real job” and that if they budget effectively they can live perfectly well on a benefit. There’s only so much those organizations can do.
The government can’t be your friend. Plunket can’t come over and have a cup of tea with you while you pour your heart out. None of these places can give us the long-term, constant support that you need when life throws the worst it’s got at you – and that happens to all of us.

This is where I believe in the Church. Not just my particular church, the one I attend in Wanganui with the people I care for and that care for me – but the Church as a body, as God’s bride, as a whole – worldwide, every denomination. The Church is the community that the world (as a generalisation – some of you may live in wonderful, supportive neighbourhoods) lacks. The lovely lady that I had the privelege to help had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Luckily she had one supportive friend who knew she was in over her head, and she knew me, and knew we would help. Of everything that happened in this experience it is that fact that most warms my heart. She KNEW the church would help. She’s not a Christian. She’s not churchy. I’ve never invited her to anything. Yet she knew we would help. Thank you, God.

After all the years I spent singing, playing music, performing, leading, doing items and doing all other manner of creative stuff in churches it is the year of cooking meals in the kitchen with a group of friends that has taught me the most about myself, about Church, about community and about how to show love to a hurting world.

Let’s not get so caught up in the doing of a church “service” and the programs and activities that we run, that we miss our chance to be the hands and feet of a God who cares about the hungry, the poor, the hurting and the lonely.
xx Sarah