... In God We Trust

Rebecca got a message that on this day, God wants her to know...

... that doubt is the greatest gift, - it's the space between two certainties.

Any change on its way from one place of stability to the next one, passes through a period of doubt.

Your old perspective has to disintegrate, and doubt comes in for a visit - even if only for a moment, before the new perspective takes root.

Doubt is your greatest gift, because from doubt you can go anywhere.

... of walking and Winnebago's - Part IV

So I have made my decision. I am moving forward up this mountain on my own. It's a narrow road, yes, but I have been told there are a few "turn outs" up further on the path. If I want there will be a point at which I can turn back but ... why would I choose to do that?

I hope I don't chicken out at any point along the way because I sincerely believe the ultimate destination will be well worth the journey.

All metaphors aside ~ this is the time in life that I want to find and intimately get to know ... GOD.

Who is God? Are Jesus and God truly one and the same? Is Jesus God's Son and ultimately the only way to get to Heaven after this life?

This is what I've always been taught. To believe otherwise is blasphemy - a denial of Jesus' diety. A ticket to the place "downstairs."

But this is the place where my rubber and road have hit. I have questions. I don't believe God is afraid of questions and I do believe God - and only God - has the answers I'm seeking. I can ask others, I can read books, I can sit in a pew. I can hear the opinions of people eager to introduce me to God as they know Him. And - I'm open to this.

However, I believe that ultimately, only God will be able to reveal Himself to me and when He does - I need to trust Him. First I need to trust that it is Him speaking to me and second - I need to take Him at His Word once I'm sure it's Him talking.

Given those two steps it will be key that I listen. I wrote a song once ~ actually it was more of a "chorus" ~ and the verses have always been difficult for me to complete. I'd play the music for you here but...ummm, haven't figured out how to make that feature work yet. We'll stick with the lyrics for now:

"In a Still Small Voice I heard you calling me.

In a Still Small Voice I heard you say,

"My child you're not alone I'm here to guide you

Do not search anymore I am right beside you

In a Still Small Voice You spoke my name."

That song was the beginning of my quest to find God ~ because I really don't think I came up with the lyrics on my own. I think that was a "God" thing. I figured it was time I got to know the Author of that chorus a bit better.

[The path is narrowing here. Do I want to take the turn-out ahead? No, I choose to continue moving forward ... ]

I was raised to believe that the Baptist church pretty much held the patent on how to find God. Other religions were either cults in disguise or poor, misguided, well meaning souls who had no clue of the real truth. (NOTE: Monday night and Saturday visitation was the Baptist way of setting them straight ... if you were lucky enough to get a word in before the door was slammed on your face.)

If one wanted to be a "real" Christian - there were certain rules (spoken and un-) that dictated spirituality and you were judged on the basis of how well you adhered to those rules. There were things such as outward appearance (hair, clothing, hygiene), habits (smoking, drinking), how you talked (profanity), the people/groups you associated with, whether or not your church attendance was "faithful" and consistent.

I can remember all too well the mood when somebody walked into "our church" on a Sunday morning that didn't quite 'measure up' to the spiritual standards. There was almost a 'gasp' if a woman walked in wearing jeans, or a guy walked in with long hair and/or a beard. It was all so discriminating and pious. Even as a kid I felt this. There was a single mother that began attending regularly when I was in 3rd or 4th grade. She would have been a welfare recipient I suppose and her kids were somewhat disheveled. The oldest daughter tried hard to fit in - to look pretty, to put on a little make-up, to clean up well. You could tell she "got" the criteria for fitting in here and as a young teen she really wanted to make the cut. The youngest - a red headed boy - was a bit more mischievous. He liked to move around, get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the service (ooops, you definitely lost points with that move!) but all in all he was just a "rambunctious boy" by today's standards. But the middle daughter? Wow - she was marked and labeled.

Earlene.

Poor Earlene. We "all" knew about Earlene. I can't even count the number of times that girl was in trouble, accused of whatever "crime" had been committed. (Somebody once smeared feces on a bathroom stall...the "guilty party" had to be Earlene.) I remember one time in 4th grade our teacher had us take a $100,000 Dollar Bar and set it on the desk and then we would go out to recess. When she returned she'd be alone in the room. Everybody was in on this little "experiment" - everybody that is, but Earlene - who had been summoned to the office ... (Coincidence? I think not!). The test was, "Will Earlene steal the candybar?" Everybody took a vote and the consensus was - yes, she most definitely would.

She didn't, by the way. (Shame on Mrs. Brown.)

I doubt Earlene was guilty of many of the things she was accused of doing. But I wonder if, after a while, she kind of "grew into" the person everybody said she was. I often wonder about Earlene. Was she responsible for that stall incident? That left such an impression on me. I looked at her as the possessed girl - the girl that Jesus couldn't "fix" - the girl that wasn't good enough for Jesus.

I was sure glad I wasn't Earlene.

Wow - she never even had a chance.

I've often thought about various people. People who were Mormons or Pentecostals. One was described as a "cult" and the other a possessed group of people who believed in speaking tongues which was of the devil, of course.

Sincere people. People who believed 'their' religion was right just as I believed 'my' religion was right. What made me right and them wrong? How come the Baptist's had the corner on the market??

The older I have grown the more I have questioned this. Is Jesus the only Way to God? I know, I know ... blasphemy. I am definitely not wanting to be blasphemous or deny Christ. I am sincerely questioning and ... I think that is okay. Jesus Himself told Thomas it was "okay" to question - to have doubts. He wasn't as "good" as those who didn't question but ... he was "okay" - he wasn't condemned for questioning and needing proof that Jesus was Who He said He was.

Those of you who aren't questioning? According to the Thomas story, you are blessed. But I'm still okay.

To be continued ...

... of walking and Winnebago's (Part III)

This time, when she breaks the silence to ask me once again, "Have you found a safe place?" she adds, "It doesn't have to be real you know. You can make up an imaginary location."


Hmmm - now THAT might really help! Finally I tell her yes - I have my place.


I imagine that I am sitting on a large patch of plush green grass under a tree. She asks, "What type of tree?" I'm thinking, "Does that really matter?" But I answer instead, "Ummm - a ... big tree? I don't know. I'm not all that familiar with my tree families." She asks, "Is it a big oak or a big fir type Christmas tree?" I think, "Does it matter?" :-) But I answer instead, "Ummm - yeah, it's a big oak."


Now mind you - at this point I am still supposed to have my eyes closed but I peek (shhh - don't tell). She writes something down on her steno pad and I wonder, "Hmph! Did I choose the wrong tree?" (ha)


Whatever. I think to myself, "These tree questions are messin' with my quiet space - can we move on? I only have 45 minutes remaining!" I say ... nothing.


She asks what sounds I hear ... do I hear anything at all? I tell her that yes, there is a large flowing stream in front so I hear soothing water flowing. She asks if I hear anything else? I say, "Maybe a bird or two?" She asks, "What type of bird?"


Oh brother - REALLY?

"The type that flies!" (Sorry, I don't know my bird families all that well either." ha)

She lets me slide.


She asks me if I see anything else around me? I hesitate. Finally I admit, "Ummm - the fence I put around the stream and the grass???!" She laughs. "This is imaginary, okay?" she says. "Okay," I say, "but the fence stands."


She obliges.


She asks what color the sky is ... I tell her blue. "All blue?" she inquires, "Any clouds?" I tell her no, it's a beautiful and clear blue sky - my idea of the perfect spring day. No clouds in sight.


She sounds pleased with my response(s). (Phew ~ at least I passed one! :-)


Now she asks my permission to add to my scenery.

Huh? What? I hesitate - then I give in. Okay - that's fine ~ just don't remove my fence. She has no plans to remove my fence. What she IS adding is a large, beautiful mountain.


At the top of this beautiful mountain is ... Almighty God. The One I have been searching for of late ... the One I am desperate to find and talk with ... the One I am longing to get to know on a personal level.


Not somebody else's God - my God.


She tells me that a Winnebago has just pulled up. I (typical smart ass that I am) ask, "Hey! How'd they get through my fence? It had a gate! The gate was locked. That's it - I'm getting a refund!"


She laughs and says, "They just get in - okay? I let them in - they are safe." Welllllllll - I hope they're good "Winnebago-ens" or I will place a stop payment on her check! ;-) She assures me ... they are well meaning.


Okay ~ they can intrude - whatever! (It's her check, not mine!)


Apparently, there are several people already IN this Winnebago. (No kidding! It holds hundreds - and she thinks MY imagination is wacky??! ha). All of the passengers are traveling to the top of the mountain ... to see the Almighty. Would I like to join them?


Would I like to see God?


Are you kidding me? OF COURSE I want to see God! I quickly gather up the few belongings I had with me under the "tree" - near that "water" - with the fence around it! :-) I grab my guitar (okay, I don't play but ... in my imagination I'm a great guitarist!), my water bottle and my red journal with its matching red pen. Everybody welcomes me into their Winnebago with open arms - I'm an immediate part of their ... "family." They are laughing, singing, talking, dancing. I am not that much of a social person so ...


I am watching, studying, evaluating. As I look around a bit more I notice something that strikes me as being a bit odd: All of the passengers in this Winnebago look the same. The women are all wearing the same style of dress, the men the same pants, shirts, ties. They all have similar hair styles, they listen to the same music, they speak the exact same language. I check the surroundings and note all of those "familiar" comforts of home - a fridge, a stove, a table, a booth, beds and bedding, pots and pans, glasses and silverware. And of course the all time favorite of those living in my hometown - there is AIR CONDITIONING in this Winnebago.

Ahhh - this looks nice - this seems easy ... this is ... dare I say ~ "fun!" I don't have to think about a thing - they've figured it all out for me ... and everything is all laid out: my clothing, my bedding, my music. Hmmm, this might even be ... comfortable?! There is mingling, chattering - a murmer amongst the group. They are talking about God ... but some of their conversations seem a little off to me. Where in the Bible does it say that?

I say nothing. Afterall, they are taking me to the top of the mountain for free. As long as I ride with them and go along with things - it's an easy trip, right? Wouldn't wanna' rock the boat (or the Winnebago!).


About an hour into our "trip" - the driver announces to all of us that the road is beginning to narrow, would we all please quiet down so he can concentrate? Immediately, everyone grows silent.


The Winnebago slows more ... eventually coming to a complete stop.


Our driver shuts off the engine and sits behind the wheel for a minute thinking and studying the road ahead. When he finally turns to everyone he announces, "I'm so sorry but ... this is as far as the Winnebago will take you. If you want to continue up to the top of the mountain, where God is, you will need to get out of this Winnebago and take that jeep on ahead."


It's not a jeep that will hold hundreds (like the "Wacky Winnebago"), but it will still hold several passengers. There's an air conditioner but - what's the point? There are no doors on this thing. There's no fridge, no stove, the radio doesn't work. It's dusty, dirty - you get the picture. Some of the Winnebago's amenities are obviously missing and while some of my former Winnebagen comrades have made their way into the jeep -- several others have decided to go no further. They call for someone to pick them up and take them back home.


The rest of us (I choose to stay) pile in and a brand new driver turns over the ignition. We're off ~ back toward the top of the mountain to meet the Almighty. I'm still excited. This ride isn't so bad - the jeep has 4 wheel drive and, though it's a little less comfortable, the bumps aren't too bad and the company is pretty sweet. Overall -- still a fairly comfortable ride.


Uh oh - what's this? Our jeep is slowing down! Same thing - same scenario - driver says the road is narrowing up ahead. Long story short - the jeep can travel no further. He offers a motorcycle (did he really just say a motorcycle??). He says, "You can journey on in groups of two or ... you can turn back now and call for transportation back home."


A few of us choose to continue on. This ride is going to get a bit more rugged. On this motorcycle there are no amenities. We're hitting several potholes now, the road is more narrow than ever before and .... woooo - this thing is bumpy. I just had a bug hit my face. We were allowed to keep our backpacks if we had them - but anything else had to be left behind.


And not too long after our motorcycle journey began -- you guessed it ... we had to stop. The path ahead was way too narrow for even just the motorcycle to continue on. If we wanted to continue we would have to get off and walk.


Alone.


(You know me and alone?)


Hmph. But there was only a single path ahead. Room for "one" on the remainder of the journey. Other's could make the journey but we could not travel together from this point on ~ it was one at a time. It was getting dark now - a little spooky. But the promise stood: At the top of the mountain we WOULD find God.


Did I still want to go - even if I had to go it alone? Even if nobody else agreed with the decision? Even if it was a little scary?


I had no difficulty making my decision: Even if I have to go it alone - even if everyone I knew disagreed with my decision - even if those I know and love are convinced this isn't right - it wouldn't be this difficult, you shouldn't do it ... stay with us - we'll find the Almighty another way.


No, I want to go.

I WILL make this journey to the top of the mountain.

I WILL find God.

To be continued ...

... of Walking and Winnebago's (Part I)

(DISCLAIMER: Just remember, 'PBP: GIFWMY!' For those of you who do not recognize that acronym/bumper sticker from days gone by: Please Be Patient ... God Isn't Finished With Me Yet.')


Some would call it a crisis of belief.
Some would call it a quest for truth.


I'm not exactly sure just yet what "I" am calling "it" - but whatever "it" is - "it" has been serving as the catalyst for me to do some serious, straightforward, scrupulous, sincere: "soul" searching. Quick rewind: I was raised in a nice home, a typical 60's style/fairly strict/conservative environment (by that I simply mean that dad worked to provide for his family, mom stayed home manning the forts, raising the kids, bandaging the 'boo-boo's, etc.). Overall, I would characterize my parents as being very wise, loving, fair and reasonable (not to mention blessed by God with three incredible kids! ha). My religious background, on the other hand ... mmmm - not so much a "blessing" (in hindsight).

I have struggled with several of the beliefs and rules handed down from the pulpit ~ but to "break away" from the pack so to speak - is unheard of. If you don't "believe" the same way as others you are labeled a "backslider" - one of those who have fallen by the wayside - like that seed ... in that parable ...).

Case in point: I'll never forget the time I showed up for a Wednesday night bible study in my Senior year of high school. You weren't supposed to wear "pants" to church (actually, it was preferred women not wear pants at all but ... I digress). I got off work a little late - it was out of my control (ahhh - my first job at good ol' Sprouse Reitz) and I wanted to go to church because our youth group was dwindling and there were a few of us "die-harders" that wanted to keep the thing goin'. My only option was to go straight to church - not go home first to change. I had on "dittos" - do you remember those? They were pants that I wore under my work smock and the pants had cute little stitching from one bottom of the pant leg all the way up around the butt and then back down the other leg. They weren't too "tight" - they were cute ... and what's more ... they "fit" ... back then. :-) Yes, those were the "good ol' days!" ha

But - I digress ~ again! ;-) I had been attending the same church for the full 18 yrs. of my life at that point ... I was on their nursery list and still had a little plaque I received for "perfect attendance" when I was in the elementary Sunday School Dept. My dad directed the music and ... we were there ... faithfully - Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, Wednesday evenings and the occasional 5th Sunday Singspiration (if I never see another slide of the holy land it will be too soon!).However, after wearing dittos that fateful Wednesday evening - I was taken off the membership roster and instructed not to return in "those pants" again. Wow - really? I busted my "ditto jeaned" ass over from work as fast as I possibly could to GET to youth group in time and ... WHAT? Really? I must've misunderstood. But nope, this was no joke.

Hmph. Suffice it to say -- shortly after that I remember having a heart to heart with my parents and letting them know that - following my graduation from high school - I was planning on looking for a new church. They gave me their blessing - 100%. Looking back - it's a GOOD thing they did because I would've been just as content at that point to never set foot in a church again.

But - I did go church shopping and I found the "little less conservative than Independent Fundamental Baptist Church" in Hayward. Both of my brother's and my one sister-in-law attended this one - it was "Southern Baptist." I didn't have much experience with Southern Baptist's - except to know that, by the Conservative Independent Fundamental standards, it was considered liberal (which is about as laughable as the IFB church saying the "Gaither's" were rockers!).

Okay, so up to the point in my first marriage that I had a major falling out with both my first husband and my God - I would characterize myself as being a "good" Christian - by church standards mind you.I went to church, I followed the rules, I didn't smoke, didn't drink, didn't do drugs, wasn't promiscuous, didn't chew or hang out with others that do (ha), and I was part of the "in" group as religious circles go.

Then - my marriage started to unravel.

[If you asked my ex ... he would probably say that "I" pulled the first string in the unraveling. If you asked me ... I would probably say that "he" pulled the first string in the unraveling. But ... we all know there are three sides to every story in a marriage: His, Hers, and the Truth ~ which lies somewhere in between - jumbled and confused over many months and years. Honestly, I don't know how/when the unraveling began ... but it did. Both of us should've made better choices ~ but I can only speak for myself. I definitely could've made better choices (but he could've too ... ha). At any rate - we divorced ~ and yes, that is definitely the "condensed" version but since it's not the main part of my story here it will have to suffice ...] ~

I had no desire whatsoever to ever set foot in a church building again.  I knew how the "church game" was played. I knew those Sunday mornings when everything went wrong at home but we had to get in the car and look "perfect for the pew sitters." I'd say, "Oooh goody - we get to play church again." After that marriage dissolved - seriously - I didn't trust anybody religious - whether they were standing behind the pulpit or knocking on my door with a cute little tract entitled, "Missing Heaven by 11 inches" (or was it 13"? hmmm - guess I should've opened the tract - ha)... but I had absolutely no use for the whole thing.I didn't have much use for God either. Church and God were one and the same for me. That whole "ask and ye shall receive" / "pray without ceasing" thing? Nope, wasn't working. I started to think the "whole thing" was a sham - a lie that I'd bought into - a 'cultish' kind of teaching of who God was that was drilled into my head wayyy back in that little Sunday School on Lewelling Blvd., long before I had a mind to think for myself.

What is Truth?

I know, I know. I know the "right" answer.

Of course -- Jesus is the Truth. And the Way. And the Life.

Hey, just throw a bible trivia question my way and, most likely, I can answer it for you within 5 sec. And yes, I have a pretty fair amount of biblical knowledge - acquired from not only that Sunday School upbringing but from my private school education, and from listening to several sermons being practiced at home before being preached on a Sunday. I may have difficulty giving you the correct "bible address" at first but ... I've done time "drawing my sword!" ;-) I also know a bazillion bible verses by heart ... committed to memory in case I ever "needed them due to religious persecution should we ever be imprisoned like Paul for our beliefs in the future." (Yes, really.)Now, I know it can't hurt to have bible verses committed to memory ~ I'm not saying THAT. But the one verse I heard repeatedly - over and over and over and over and ... (you get the point) was that famous verse found in I Thessalonians, chapter 5, verse 22: "Abstain from all appearance of evil." I had a math teacher in 9th grade quote this verse to me when he was informing me that he would no longer be available to be my tutor. Apparently, a deacon had noticed me exiting his classroom after school later than the other students one day and told this teacher that "... it didn't look 'right' for a male teacher to be tutoring a female student." (Yeah? Well -- I got my first and only 'D' that semester by the way - thanks a lot, buddy!)

Abstain from all appearance of evil.

That means avoiding theatres, watching who you associate with at all times, crossing a street if you happen upon a liquor store so that you won't become a "stumbling block" for a non-believer who doesn't realize you're actually planning to walk PAST the liquor store to your place of employment a few feet further up that walk. I guess these non-believers might mistakingly assume you were going in for a beer because ... ummmm - they are watching your every move to call you out lest you slip up?? Huh? Reality TV wasn't even invented yet but apparently the Christian Cameras were rolling ...

Looking back over the past 46 years I have lived on this earth, I notice that I have spent many a year in a kind of "look over your shoulder" stance. If you're always looking back over your shoulder how can you possibly have a clear and accurate view as to what's coming ahead?I have felt like I've had a video camera surveilling me (not literally) for 46 years and have tried to follow "the rules" (save my 6-12 mos. of stupidity when my first marriage was ending during which time I could've cared less what the hell I did and/or who the hell knew I did it).

But up to that point I constantly worried that I would be "put away on a shelf" - which is what a youth pastor said would happen if you screwed up one too many times. God would be merciful "to a point" but after some unknown limit was surpassed He would put you on the shelf and you'd be of no further earthly use to Him. You wouldn't get a countdown to let you know you're getting close to the shelf detention - nobody was in the background calling out that you were getting 'warmer' - 'colder' - 'hotter' -- you were in this maze alone and it would just "happen" one day. Oops - sorry. You lose.

Oh yes, you'd still make it to Heaven (by the skin of your teeth) but you'd be assigned a back seat. Your "banquet table" would be bread/water while others feasted on God's finest. And jewels on the crown? Ha - sorry dude - ain't gonna' happen. Hmph. I knew I had purchased the proper "Fire Insurance" but was I going to get my monies worth for the policy when pay out time arrived? THAT was the question.

To Be Continued ...