Last Saturday evening I was playing at a Taize service at the Abbey and a metaphor struck me deeply that I wanted to share. I was struck with the beauty that emerges when we listen to each other. My experience playing with Taize has been one where each person serves the other and gives the other an opportunity to let their instrument sing out. The violin will be highlighted in one verse and then pull back and support the other musicians. The music will build and the trumpet will give it energy. Then the musicians pull back and the song ends with the delicate harp and guitar. Each instrument has value and allows the other instruments to shine in the way that only that instrument can shine.
This struck me as a metaphor for community. Its as if each of us are a particular instrument that was made to contribute to the music in a unique way.
I imagined the kind of sound that would come from a group of musicians who were competing to have their own voice heard. It would become progressively louder and more chaotic, with each musician concerned with how they could shine individually. In this battle to be heard each player might have their own strategies. The trumpets might blare their horns and blame the violins for not being able to make such a powerful sound themselves. They might claim that the violins are not being their true selves and they simply need to play louder so their voice can be heard. The violins might simply stop playing and judge the trumpets for drowning them out. They might claim that the sound of the violin is the measure of all things beautiful and the trumpets are merely being noisy. Perhaps part of why we do this is that we are afraid of the beauty that the other possesses that we do not possess ourselves. The trumpets play loud because they are afraid of the delicate beauty of the violin. The violins stop playing, judge the trumpets, and feel sorry for themselves because the trumpets make a powerful sound that they cannot replicate.
The truth is that we are all guilty. We are all desperately afraid and we respond in ways that damage each other and sacrifice the beauty of the music that we could create together. Each instrument is beautiful and needs to be listened to. In a truly beautiful piece of music, no one steals the show. In all of this, we can either settle for personal glory (or safety) or we could have our deepest yearnings met and be given the gift of love for one another. Jesus understands that we do not trust the other musicians and that there is so much fear. But we can’t go on simply pointing the finger at others and appealing to how we’ve been victimized. Because we all share in this guilt. Both the trumpets and the violins are guilty. The good news is that Jesus has grace for us and he invites us to have grace both for ourselves and for others. He is inviting us to make a sound as a community that is about His glory. Maybe when it is about His glory, we will be able to relax with one another because no one is trying to attain power by diminishing the power of anybody else. Imagine all the instruments letting their voice ring in service to God’s glory, and all the other instruments celebrating together the piece of God that that instrument reflects. All of us adding a unique aspect of glory that needs to be listened to, not competing but humbly serving the song that is about Him and not us.
Mark
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
The pain of moving from ideal to reality
I wrote this first with many abstractions and generalities, but then realized that I should add some juicy self-disclosures. I hope you enjoy them.
Thought #1: The pain of walking toward community is the pain of self-revelation. We can maintain an illusion of ourselves and our ability to love so long as we remain distant. Jean Vanier says “While we are alone, we could believe that we loved everyone.” This is the pain of moving from an ideal to reality. It is so easy to speak of the type of person and community that we desire to be when we are not living the reality. I speak far too easily about these things. To actually have those qualities forged in us is not as easy. The desire to love is followed by a process whereby we learn that we suck at loving. Part of the pain is having to be honest with ourselves and honest with others. This is so scary because we discover that we are not who we thought we could be to others. We are not who we thought we had to be in order to be loved by others, and neither are others as we had imagined them to be. I wonder if this movement from the interaction of images to the interaction of textured real people comes with some initial let downs. We have to let go our images, our superficial perfection. But I wonder also if there is a deeper joy found in reality than dreamy ideals.
Thought #2: So often I think that we come together and parade around our best qualities, trying to earn an identity, trying to establish ourselves as worthy and desirable. Yet we compete for people’s praise and affection as if only a few worthy individuals at the top of the social ladder will attain it. I am so guilty of this. So often insecurity drives me to measure my strengths against others weakness. I, for instance, am a better person because I am just so caring, never assert my own needs, and am polite to strangers. But then I see others who are passionate, energetic, and soulful and I am completely intimidated. When they succeed at winning friends and affection, I, in my so called maturity, call their energy superficial, wait for a need that I can nurture, and then I am reestablished as a valuable commodity in the world of identities. This is all really a terrible game. This competition for value brings up in me so many embarrassing internal reactions, so many questions about whether or not I will be loved. It takes away my ability to celebrate those who are beautiful around me.
I really want to internalize the truth that this value and worth that we are fighting over are not scarce resources. I would love to move together to a point where we can expose our monsters and be known because we no longer have to buy value through the presentation of our best qualities. We can finally rest with one another. All of us broken and all of us loved. How refreshing would this be in a culture of idolatry! People who have learned that they are more glorious as human beings full of strength and weakness, full of energy and limitation, than they are as distant images of perfection.
Yours truly,
Mark
Thought #1: The pain of walking toward community is the pain of self-revelation. We can maintain an illusion of ourselves and our ability to love so long as we remain distant. Jean Vanier says “While we are alone, we could believe that we loved everyone.” This is the pain of moving from an ideal to reality. It is so easy to speak of the type of person and community that we desire to be when we are not living the reality. I speak far too easily about these things. To actually have those qualities forged in us is not as easy. The desire to love is followed by a process whereby we learn that we suck at loving. Part of the pain is having to be honest with ourselves and honest with others. This is so scary because we discover that we are not who we thought we could be to others. We are not who we thought we had to be in order to be loved by others, and neither are others as we had imagined them to be. I wonder if this movement from the interaction of images to the interaction of textured real people comes with some initial let downs. We have to let go our images, our superficial perfection. But I wonder also if there is a deeper joy found in reality than dreamy ideals.
Thought #2: So often I think that we come together and parade around our best qualities, trying to earn an identity, trying to establish ourselves as worthy and desirable. Yet we compete for people’s praise and affection as if only a few worthy individuals at the top of the social ladder will attain it. I am so guilty of this. So often insecurity drives me to measure my strengths against others weakness. I, for instance, am a better person because I am just so caring, never assert my own needs, and am polite to strangers. But then I see others who are passionate, energetic, and soulful and I am completely intimidated. When they succeed at winning friends and affection, I, in my so called maturity, call their energy superficial, wait for a need that I can nurture, and then I am reestablished as a valuable commodity in the world of identities. This is all really a terrible game. This competition for value brings up in me so many embarrassing internal reactions, so many questions about whether or not I will be loved. It takes away my ability to celebrate those who are beautiful around me.
I really want to internalize the truth that this value and worth that we are fighting over are not scarce resources. I would love to move together to a point where we can expose our monsters and be known because we no longer have to buy value through the presentation of our best qualities. We can finally rest with one another. All of us broken and all of us loved. How refreshing would this be in a culture of idolatry! People who have learned that they are more glorious as human beings full of strength and weakness, full of energy and limitation, than they are as distant images of perfection.
Yours truly,
Mark
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Community?
this project has become my life over the last while and to some people their only association with who i am. you know that girl whose doing that thing... sometimes i feel like the poster child for community. i feel the pressure to live up to everyones expectations of what that looks like. sometimes i feel like if im not nice enough, friendly enough or happy enough people will walk away saying some community girl she is.
and to this i have two things to say.
one is that, i do not by any means think that i am an example of community. in fact this ambition comes out of an understanding of what i lack. i understand that i am not a very intentional friend maker. that i am not the most outgoing, and that it takes a lot of time and effort to take a friendship past fun and small talk. and in this i recognize the value of living with people. this has seemed to be the atmosphere which often facilitates meaningful relationships with people i otherwise wouldnt have, and often brings issues to the forefront wouldnt have been addressed. it is a place to know people and learn from them.
second thing to say, and somewhat removed from the last statement, is about this buzz word community. sometimes i hate the word and the frequency with which it is thrown around. it is a somewhat ambiguous term. although quite popular among our age group and social genre. some older generations seem confused by the term, or maybe just the way we use it. a local housing professional suggested that we not use the term community living because it is most commonly used for old age homes. more recently i have come across people who are so deeply associated with the concept of community that would fight to keep its definition pure. i have been told on more than one occasion that there is a difference between community and shared housing, and there is no middle ground. to these people community seems to mean that they have found the people they will die with. my distaste for this word is not associated with these diehard covenentals, or the dietrich bonheofers and other authors we've read. i respect these people and their integrity. my discomfort lies in the ease with which it is thrown around maybe between friends, or even within the confines of our tuesday nights. it is the times when this word could just as easily be defined as or replaced with the word club. to me the word community speaks unspecifically of individuals, and more as a place of open doors. a line that is hard to draw although perhaps the foundational people are obvious to place. the references i commonly hear are specific to certain individuals which have by some means attained inside status. these doors are heavy and hard to open.
its kind of an abrupt place to end. i have no conclusion. you may disagree with me. it would be great if you voiced it. leave a comment. it seems that have pointed sharp fingers and admitted to my own accusations. although my own short comings were offered up as the voice of a victim, to you i extend the sword. some community girl she is.
lets drop the facade and stop thinking we're so great. we've got a long ways to go guys, but im glad we're walking this path together.
sophie
and to this i have two things to say.
one is that, i do not by any means think that i am an example of community. in fact this ambition comes out of an understanding of what i lack. i understand that i am not a very intentional friend maker. that i am not the most outgoing, and that it takes a lot of time and effort to take a friendship past fun and small talk. and in this i recognize the value of living with people. this has seemed to be the atmosphere which often facilitates meaningful relationships with people i otherwise wouldnt have, and often brings issues to the forefront wouldnt have been addressed. it is a place to know people and learn from them.
second thing to say, and somewhat removed from the last statement, is about this buzz word community. sometimes i hate the word and the frequency with which it is thrown around. it is a somewhat ambiguous term. although quite popular among our age group and social genre. some older generations seem confused by the term, or maybe just the way we use it. a local housing professional suggested that we not use the term community living because it is most commonly used for old age homes. more recently i have come across people who are so deeply associated with the concept of community that would fight to keep its definition pure. i have been told on more than one occasion that there is a difference between community and shared housing, and there is no middle ground. to these people community seems to mean that they have found the people they will die with. my distaste for this word is not associated with these diehard covenentals, or the dietrich bonheofers and other authors we've read. i respect these people and their integrity. my discomfort lies in the ease with which it is thrown around maybe between friends, or even within the confines of our tuesday nights. it is the times when this word could just as easily be defined as or replaced with the word club. to me the word community speaks unspecifically of individuals, and more as a place of open doors. a line that is hard to draw although perhaps the foundational people are obvious to place. the references i commonly hear are specific to certain individuals which have by some means attained inside status. these doors are heavy and hard to open.
its kind of an abrupt place to end. i have no conclusion. you may disagree with me. it would be great if you voiced it. leave a comment. it seems that have pointed sharp fingers and admitted to my own accusations. although my own short comings were offered up as the voice of a victim, to you i extend the sword. some community girl she is.
lets drop the facade and stop thinking we're so great. we've got a long ways to go guys, but im glad we're walking this path together.
sophie
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Not an Experiment.
For a long time the first description people saw on this blog or on our facebook group was that we were a project - an experiment seeking to live together in community. For as long as that description had been proclaiming itself to the world, I had been feeling slightly uncomfortable with that declaration. Was it that seemed to provide a disclaimer to the end result? If this all crashes and burns - hey, it was just an experiment.
Len, the caretaker of the building responded this way to our wording, "I don't look on it as an experiment, I think it's going to be an interesting change." As we come to the close of our third week of renovations, there are many changes taking place around the building, but perhaps less taking place in us as a community. It is easy to focus on the practical tasks at hand and forget that building relationships with each other is as vital as making this a livable space.
This morning I revisited pre-reno times - a video (posted below) by Sophie Suderman and Samuel Bryce below, part 1 of a documentary on the project. Back then, we just had dreams and words - no paint, no power tools. And some of those words we spoke - I had forgotten. We spoke of sharing our humanity with those around us, that that is the beginning of change.
I am extremely intimidated by the task of loving those around me - first to love them, and then act out this purported feeling is a task I do not feel capable of. Instead of rushing ahead to all out love - perhaps my first step could be to share my humanity. To be open and honest about my struggles and fears regarding this project. In the video, Jim used the word stumbling to describe our journey as a community, a word that equally applies to me. The stumbling itself, is not the problem - it is the unwillingness to share the milestones I reach along the way. Without helping people glimpse the journey as it progresses- the conclusions I arrive at may be so far away from where they last knew me to be - I may have created a divide impossible to span.
An essential and important part of community is difference - but without communication difference can simply becomes division. I don't want this to be true in this project. I want to begin opening up - a messy endeavor to be sure, and one I have failed at miserably in recent months. We still dream and talk (a lot) amongst our renovation work - we talk about an atangard running club, paint colors, reupholstered furniture, an atangard library - but in between those dreams, let us begin attempting more honesty. Let's let our hesitations spill out as we pour primer and our fears as the sawdust fills the air- why we are committed, why we are not - because it is in this openness that our stumbling can draw us together. We will not end up at the same conclusions, but will be richer for glimpsing the journey of those we paint alongside. We will not all stay here - but we all have a hand is its formation.
My fear? Giving in claustrophobia and the overwhemling-ness of living out true community. Drawing inward - retreating to stumble alone, repeating to myself continually that no one understands who I am and what I am staggering through. I am afraid that I will cope by busying myself in the daily work of operating the project and simply fulfilling the commitments I have made out of obligation, until I move on to the next thing, the next place. And then, letting those who are alone or uncomfortable do the same, unsupported - numbing myself to their needs and wants so well, that at some point I will cease to feel bad about it.
My hope? That our different journeys will become the strength behind this project. That we will embrace it not as an experiment, easily dismissed if failed - but as an opportunity to live life in a richer and fuller manner. No matter what this project looks like, it will not be easily controlled and the results not easily qualified - it is a journey, an adventure. I hope that I will stop using distance as my default reaction - I hope that my default reaction will instead become sharing my humanity.
-Beth
Atangard Community Project from Sam Bryce on Vimeo.
Len, the caretaker of the building responded this way to our wording, "I don't look on it as an experiment, I think it's going to be an interesting change." As we come to the close of our third week of renovations, there are many changes taking place around the building, but perhaps less taking place in us as a community. It is easy to focus on the practical tasks at hand and forget that building relationships with each other is as vital as making this a livable space.
This morning I revisited pre-reno times - a video (posted below) by Sophie Suderman and Samuel Bryce below, part 1 of a documentary on the project. Back then, we just had dreams and words - no paint, no power tools. And some of those words we spoke - I had forgotten. We spoke of sharing our humanity with those around us, that that is the beginning of change.
I am extremely intimidated by the task of loving those around me - first to love them, and then act out this purported feeling is a task I do not feel capable of. Instead of rushing ahead to all out love - perhaps my first step could be to share my humanity. To be open and honest about my struggles and fears regarding this project. In the video, Jim used the word stumbling to describe our journey as a community, a word that equally applies to me. The stumbling itself, is not the problem - it is the unwillingness to share the milestones I reach along the way. Without helping people glimpse the journey as it progresses- the conclusions I arrive at may be so far away from where they last knew me to be - I may have created a divide impossible to span.
An essential and important part of community is difference - but without communication difference can simply becomes division. I don't want this to be true in this project. I want to begin opening up - a messy endeavor to be sure, and one I have failed at miserably in recent months. We still dream and talk (a lot) amongst our renovation work - we talk about an atangard running club, paint colors, reupholstered furniture, an atangard library - but in between those dreams, let us begin attempting more honesty. Let's let our hesitations spill out as we pour primer and our fears as the sawdust fills the air- why we are committed, why we are not - because it is in this openness that our stumbling can draw us together. We will not end up at the same conclusions, but will be richer for glimpsing the journey of those we paint alongside. We will not all stay here - but we all have a hand is its formation.
My fear? Giving in claustrophobia and the overwhemling-ness of living out true community. Drawing inward - retreating to stumble alone, repeating to myself continually that no one understands who I am and what I am staggering through. I am afraid that I will cope by busying myself in the daily work of operating the project and simply fulfilling the commitments I have made out of obligation, until I move on to the next thing, the next place. And then, letting those who are alone or uncomfortable do the same, unsupported - numbing myself to their needs and wants so well, that at some point I will cease to feel bad about it.
My hope? That our different journeys will become the strength behind this project. That we will embrace it not as an experiment, easily dismissed if failed - but as an opportunity to live life in a richer and fuller manner. No matter what this project looks like, it will not be easily controlled and the results not easily qualified - it is a journey, an adventure. I hope that I will stop using distance as my default reaction - I hope that my default reaction will instead become sharing my humanity.
-Beth
Atangard Community Project from Sam Bryce on Vimeo.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Rubbermaid to Recycling - Reflections on Repentance and Righteousness
The rumble of voices started to grow from room 200 as people arrived for the weekly gathering. I had come early to Atangard to do a walk around, to see progress, to look at how the building was being redeemed and reinvented. As people entered the room, opinions, ideas, stories, and good humor floated in a delta of directions. Then when it was time, there was call to attention as Sophie spoke. She called us to focus our thoughts in prayer, to be centered. Prayers erupted like popcorn kernels on a hot skillet. And then it happened; just as spontaneously as the other prayers—Debbie spoke about a beating in her heart—and we were centered, the flow was focused.
Debbie shared of her walk earlier that day. Her steps around the garbage cans set out for weekly pic up seemed to jump out at her more than the usual. I don’t know the intricacies of how it all works but it seemed that Holy Spirit was speaking to her, breathing on her, and allowing her to be “inspired” beyond rubermaid containers.
The implications had gravity as she shared the depth of the metaphor in detail. “Everyone has trash, and there it is on display for everyone to see.” The allusion was fittingly paired with brokenness and sin in our lives. Debbie described how some had bins that were sealed tight so that no one could pry—unless of course they were authorized by personal attachment or occupation. Also, she highlighted a bag that sat beside the trash cans, it was a bag of seemingly noble origins and was clear so that the contents could be seen. Ready to be recycled, acceptable bits and pieces were tied in these bags. Debbie called these the bag of socially acceptable brokenness.
“Jesus, wants to help us with our trash and recycling. It is all bad.” I could feel that Debbie was hitting a nerve. Comments started to trickle from those sitting in our odd shaped circle. I looked at the wall wondering what was to come. Would the room burst out in confession like I have seen at campfires or at charismatic alter calls. Would the freshly stripped floor be anointed with tears? Or would it flow more civilly, one confessing to another like a parishioner to the priest?
I took a few deep breaths. What is my garbage? What is my brokenness? What is my need? Are these my friends, my brothers, and my sisters worthy of being given the place of Mother or Father (priest)? We are of course a priesthood of all believers? (I may be ripping that out of context, but it fits within the biblical historical role of a priest - to go on behalf of the people to God for forgiveness of sins)
Confession and confrontation became a topic instead of an act. It was dissected and discussed rather than displayed. Someone voiced that fact and the comment left the room in silent decision. The pondering was then interrupted by vocal inspiration of one, and verbal processing of another. The decision was made. The trash although there was not being sorted tonight. The lid was being kept on for another maybe more unofficial time. Confrontation was talked more about than confession, and the popcorn began to fly as conversation shifted from internal personal renovation to the practical task at hand.
It wasn’t that we didn’t want to engage with the messy process of confession and repentance. And I don’t think that tonight was necessarily the time or the place. We are in process. We are in the liminal place of transition from cleaning and tearing out to installing, painting and moving in. All this takes time - He has patience. The rooms are waiting - He is our helper, We are broken - He is a skilled carpenter and has been broken and poured out for us.
I left in the midst of a few lingerers that conversed about life and plans for the future. I was refreshed and challenged by the meeting. The night called me to present my heart before the One who made it. Maybe this needs to happen first before we present ourselves to each other in a corporate confessional way.
Community happens at many levels, sizes, and structures. The thoughts and ideas of others led me to think that community is often reflective and related to the depth of our relationships (Communion). As well, I was reminded of a specific communion time shared a few years ago. It was focused on Psalm 23:5 - You prepare for me a table in the presence of my enemies.
The liturgy highlighted that we approach the table with both enemies within as well as external threats and dangers. There were masks surrounding the table decorated and labeled with the seven deadly sins. We all wear these masks at one point or another. They seem to be daily decisional breakdowns that we use as security for us - void fillers- garbage from the house of our heart.
In the midst of this our Shepherd sets a table. The invitation is multifaceted. We identify that we are the enemy as much as we have enemies. We are invited to step into love, repentance, redemption, and reconciliation. We are invited to move outside of our masks and eat and drink with the one who was broken and poured out so that we could be whole - so that we can “dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (Ps 23:6) So that we can be shaped as a living stone mortared along with our brothers and sisters, trusting them as mothers and fathers, being the potential that rests in the treasure of the kingdom that lies beyond the confessional booth.
And yet the masks remain, garbage collects, a daily choice, a momentary option. Take hope, He is there waiting at the table.
Adam Nash
Debbie shared of her walk earlier that day. Her steps around the garbage cans set out for weekly pic up seemed to jump out at her more than the usual. I don’t know the intricacies of how it all works but it seemed that Holy Spirit was speaking to her, breathing on her, and allowing her to be “inspired” beyond rubermaid containers.
The implications had gravity as she shared the depth of the metaphor in detail. “Everyone has trash, and there it is on display for everyone to see.” The allusion was fittingly paired with brokenness and sin in our lives. Debbie described how some had bins that were sealed tight so that no one could pry—unless of course they were authorized by personal attachment or occupation. Also, she highlighted a bag that sat beside the trash cans, it was a bag of seemingly noble origins and was clear so that the contents could be seen. Ready to be recycled, acceptable bits and pieces were tied in these bags. Debbie called these the bag of socially acceptable brokenness.
“Jesus, wants to help us with our trash and recycling. It is all bad.” I could feel that Debbie was hitting a nerve. Comments started to trickle from those sitting in our odd shaped circle. I looked at the wall wondering what was to come. Would the room burst out in confession like I have seen at campfires or at charismatic alter calls. Would the freshly stripped floor be anointed with tears? Or would it flow more civilly, one confessing to another like a parishioner to the priest?
I took a few deep breaths. What is my garbage? What is my brokenness? What is my need? Are these my friends, my brothers, and my sisters worthy of being given the place of Mother or Father (priest)? We are of course a priesthood of all believers? (I may be ripping that out of context, but it fits within the biblical historical role of a priest - to go on behalf of the people to God for forgiveness of sins)
Confession and confrontation became a topic instead of an act. It was dissected and discussed rather than displayed. Someone voiced that fact and the comment left the room in silent decision. The pondering was then interrupted by vocal inspiration of one, and verbal processing of another. The decision was made. The trash although there was not being sorted tonight. The lid was being kept on for another maybe more unofficial time. Confrontation was talked more about than confession, and the popcorn began to fly as conversation shifted from internal personal renovation to the practical task at hand.
It wasn’t that we didn’t want to engage with the messy process of confession and repentance. And I don’t think that tonight was necessarily the time or the place. We are in process. We are in the liminal place of transition from cleaning and tearing out to installing, painting and moving in. All this takes time - He has patience. The rooms are waiting - He is our helper, We are broken - He is a skilled carpenter and has been broken and poured out for us.
I left in the midst of a few lingerers that conversed about life and plans for the future. I was refreshed and challenged by the meeting. The night called me to present my heart before the One who made it. Maybe this needs to happen first before we present ourselves to each other in a corporate confessional way.
Community happens at many levels, sizes, and structures. The thoughts and ideas of others led me to think that community is often reflective and related to the depth of our relationships (Communion). As well, I was reminded of a specific communion time shared a few years ago. It was focused on Psalm 23:5 - You prepare for me a table in the presence of my enemies.
The liturgy highlighted that we approach the table with both enemies within as well as external threats and dangers. There were masks surrounding the table decorated and labeled with the seven deadly sins. We all wear these masks at one point or another. They seem to be daily decisional breakdowns that we use as security for us - void fillers- garbage from the house of our heart.
In the midst of this our Shepherd sets a table. The invitation is multifaceted. We identify that we are the enemy as much as we have enemies. We are invited to step into love, repentance, redemption, and reconciliation. We are invited to move outside of our masks and eat and drink with the one who was broken and poured out so that we could be whole - so that we can “dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (Ps 23:6) So that we can be shaped as a living stone mortared along with our brothers and sisters, trusting them as mothers and fathers, being the potential that rests in the treasure of the kingdom that lies beyond the confessional booth.
And yet the masks remain, garbage collects, a daily choice, a momentary option. Take hope, He is there waiting at the table.
Adam Nash
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Hungry
This weeks meeting was the second meeting at our long awaited prayer request, the project. But now that it is in progress I have felt that the prayer requests are different, at least for me. There are not huge road blocks stopping us from the renovation process. With the renovations happening there came ideas, concerns and logistics to discuss. After that business was tended to Sophie expressed her concern about not letting the project become an identity. It is not meant to glorify yourself, or give you identification but it is a common goal our community shares. There has been many people giving their time and energy to renovations. There are some that have been blessed with free schedules, there are others that slot their time in between their work elsewhere. This makes the atangard truly a community project.
Dave Gug spoke about love, in order to give love you must first be able to receive it. Worldly love is not enough there is a void that still needs to be filled. Debbie and Dave Suderman shared about their experience when their marriage began. Getting married was very exciting and busy for them and when the wedding was over they had an awakening. The void they thought was easily filled turned out to be something that was designed to be filled by the Lord not each other.
Sometimes I can go from friend to friend to boyfriend seeing how much one can contribute to my void. I can honestly say I am completely happy with my incredible boyfriend who compliments me very well. My friends add to my happiness but being wonderful listeners and laughing at my jokes. My community makes me feel loved and included. But in the midst of all my happiness I don't feel completely full. It's like going to bed hungry, you try to sleep but your stomach growls and your thoughts float from nachos to a fruit smoothie. It's an urge that doesn't want to be ignored, you can sleep it off but it will stay on your mind until it has been satisfied. Hungry, I come to you for I know you satisfy.
Jainee
Dave Gug spoke about love, in order to give love you must first be able to receive it. Worldly love is not enough there is a void that still needs to be filled. Debbie and Dave Suderman shared about their experience when their marriage began. Getting married was very exciting and busy for them and when the wedding was over they had an awakening. The void they thought was easily filled turned out to be something that was designed to be filled by the Lord not each other.
Sometimes I can go from friend to friend to boyfriend seeing how much one can contribute to my void. I can honestly say I am completely happy with my incredible boyfriend who compliments me very well. My friends add to my happiness but being wonderful listeners and laughing at my jokes. My community makes me feel loved and included. But in the midst of all my happiness I don't feel completely full. It's like going to bed hungry, you try to sleep but your stomach growls and your thoughts float from nachos to a fruit smoothie. It's an urge that doesn't want to be ignored, you can sleep it off but it will stay on your mind until it has been satisfied. Hungry, I come to you for I know you satisfy.
Jainee
Monday, March 23, 2009
Painting My Own Discomfort
Why would anybody want to live in community? I’ve been asking myself this a lot lately. My life is full. Full to the rim with relationships, miscommunications, companionship, suffocation, hospitality and anxiety. I can't count the sleepless nights, playing and re-playing situations. Frustrated by people, frustrated by my reactions to people.
Reflecting on last weeks meeting, I ponder which direction to go with this posting. Where is the community at right now?
I want to be truthful. I’m learning that holding anxiety and conflict inside can be poison to the human body , to the mind and to relationships. There is something exceptionally healing in the safety of a listener, a sounding board, someone who can relate.
There are things inside of me that grip me with fear. Lies I believe. Maybe my parents believe them, maybe even my grandparents.
Community has caused me a lot of tension. There have been times, that my conveniently buried mess, the ugly stuff no ones supposed to see or know about, has come uncontrollably spewing out of me! This has left me embarrassingly exposed before my friends. Will they accept me..or reject me?
There are plenty of personalities floating around, prying and irking, curious little creatures, eager for intimacy. I instinctively take my Q, and slip into self preservation mode.
A friend shared a story with me: She was commissioned to do a painting. She worked on it faithfully in her art class. Her art teacher took a keen interest in her success as well. Each time she thought she was finished, the teacher would encourage her to keep working at it. There was always something to be tweaked. Finally, she was sure the painting was complete. The teacher came up behind her, looked at the painting and proceeded to paint a big black streak across the canvas. She was so mad, he just wrecked everything! The teacher looked at her and said, "You are afraid of depth."
Misty hadn’t told me this story metaphorically, but when she said that last line, my stomach started to turn, and I sensed God challenging me. Urging me to let down my guard to the people he's placed around me. I also heard a warning, it will be painful at times, to see that ugly black streak across the canvas.
Your wondering how this relates to last weeks meeting..? Adam Nash shared his story last Tuesday night with us. He told us memories from his childhood, and parts of his life growing up -a rambunctious pastors kid. I was struck by his transparency. He said he had no regrets ("well, maybe one", he admitted), because his experiences and even mistakes have lead him down the path to where he is today, shaped him into the person he is now. He talked about his relationship with his father and a common trend all through growing up of seeking approval from his dad. Adam didn’t sugar coat his story for us, he pretty much laid it all out there before us...I guess he was willing to risk our Judgment, fair or unfair.
Vulnerability still causes me a fair amount of discomfort. However I long to have texture and depth in my life. I want to learn to respond out of love, and not fear or lies. Community has brought me to a place where I am utterly dependant on God's grace and mercy. I am also left to except the grace of my friends.
Once in a while, I catch a glimpse of this painting being worked on. It’s quite an interesting piece, a reflection of me I hardly recognize. There's still distortion from disproportion, and parts that are almost warped by cynicism. Still, in spite my harsh critique I see something beautiful is emerging. So thank you Adam, your openness has inspired me to continue this pursuit of depth in relationship.
Yours truly,
Tessa
"I will give thanks to your name for your unfailing love and faithfulness, because your promises are backed up by the honor of your name. When I pray, you answer me; you encourage me by giving me the strength I need...don't abandon me, for you made me." Psalm 138: 2,3 & 8
Reflecting on last weeks meeting, I ponder which direction to go with this posting. Where is the community at right now?
I want to be truthful. I’m learning that holding anxiety and conflict inside can be poison to the human body , to the mind and to relationships. There is something exceptionally healing in the safety of a listener, a sounding board, someone who can relate.
There are things inside of me that grip me with fear. Lies I believe. Maybe my parents believe them, maybe even my grandparents.
Community has caused me a lot of tension. There have been times, that my conveniently buried mess, the ugly stuff no ones supposed to see or know about, has come uncontrollably spewing out of me! This has left me embarrassingly exposed before my friends. Will they accept me..or reject me?
There are plenty of personalities floating around, prying and irking, curious little creatures, eager for intimacy. I instinctively take my Q, and slip into self preservation mode.
A friend shared a story with me: She was commissioned to do a painting. She worked on it faithfully in her art class. Her art teacher took a keen interest in her success as well. Each time she thought she was finished, the teacher would encourage her to keep working at it. There was always something to be tweaked. Finally, she was sure the painting was complete. The teacher came up behind her, looked at the painting and proceeded to paint a big black streak across the canvas. She was so mad, he just wrecked everything! The teacher looked at her and said, "You are afraid of depth."
Misty hadn’t told me this story metaphorically, but when she said that last line, my stomach started to turn, and I sensed God challenging me. Urging me to let down my guard to the people he's placed around me. I also heard a warning, it will be painful at times, to see that ugly black streak across the canvas.
Your wondering how this relates to last weeks meeting..? Adam Nash shared his story last Tuesday night with us. He told us memories from his childhood, and parts of his life growing up -a rambunctious pastors kid. I was struck by his transparency. He said he had no regrets ("well, maybe one", he admitted), because his experiences and even mistakes have lead him down the path to where he is today, shaped him into the person he is now. He talked about his relationship with his father and a common trend all through growing up of seeking approval from his dad. Adam didn’t sugar coat his story for us, he pretty much laid it all out there before us...I guess he was willing to risk our Judgment, fair or unfair.
Vulnerability still causes me a fair amount of discomfort. However I long to have texture and depth in my life. I want to learn to respond out of love, and not fear or lies. Community has brought me to a place where I am utterly dependant on God's grace and mercy. I am also left to except the grace of my friends.
Once in a while, I catch a glimpse of this painting being worked on. It’s quite an interesting piece, a reflection of me I hardly recognize. There's still distortion from disproportion, and parts that are almost warped by cynicism. Still, in spite my harsh critique I see something beautiful is emerging. So thank you Adam, your openness has inspired me to continue this pursuit of depth in relationship.
Yours truly,
Tessa
"I will give thanks to your name for your unfailing love and faithfulness, because your promises are backed up by the honor of your name. When I pray, you answer me; you encourage me by giving me the strength I need...don't abandon me, for you made me." Psalm 138: 2,3 & 8
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)