Why We Home Church

This post has the distinct possibility to be inflammatory. It is not intended to be that. It's intended to start discussions, not arguments, and to give you a little more insight into my life and into one of the more important aspects of my life--our church.

So do I think home church is better than traditional church? The diplomatic part of me will say, "No, of course not!" But the honest part of me has to confess, "Yes, I do." If I didn't think that, why would I continue this craziness?

So why do I think it's better? The main answer is community. I have (personally) NEVER experienced community the way I do in my home church. So what do I mean by community? I mean people who will pull together to pay our bills for several months while we're unemployed. I mean people who will come to my daughter's 6th grade band concert. I mean having 5- and 6- hour dinners with friends every week. I mean game nights; intense fights and difficult reconciliations; vacations together. I mean people who have the freedom to discipline my children (and vice versa). I mean life together, really together, in all its glorious messiness. We are invested in each other, just like being part of a family. There are great times, and there are hard times. But we we deal with the hard times and work through them because, darn it, we're family. We have to live with these people, and we want to live with these people.

I realize a lot of things about this statement. First, it is my personal experience. Second, I am also fully aware that community--true, intimate life with others--is possible in many different venues, and home church does not hold a monopoly here. I also know that not everyone in my church knows this kind of community. But it's overwhelming to me, all-encompassing, and church and community are inseparable in my mind.

"Everyone" brings a song, a hymn, a word.

No one person has a monopoly--better word--on the word of/from the Lord, on the theology, on the rules. With, truly, no disrespect to those who are called to lead or attend a church with a traditional pastor, this model seems to me to lead to a sense that this person is more spiritual, more knowledgeable, more qualified, more responsible to seek and/or know the Lord than the rest of us. And I don't think that should be true, nor should it be our expectation.

As such, we church with people with more varied backgrounds and beliefs than I've known in church. Creationists, evolutionists, Church of Christ, Episcopal, Baptist--here there is no Jew or Greek, just those who are committed to loving God and loving people. Jesus is our common bond.

Variety. Our format follows patterns here and there, but there is also a wide variety of ways we gather together to do church. We have meetings dedicated to singing, dedicated to praying, dedicated to teaching the kids (the many, many kids), dedicated to teaching and/or to discussion. And we have meetings that are combinations of the above. We've square-danced, appreciated and created art, re-enacted the exodus, and sat quietly.

Realness. A lot of this stems from the community aspect--there can be no true community if people aren't real with each other. And realness is scary and messy and difficult. We've yelled and cried and argued and had hurt feelings. We've also laughed until we've cried and talked through very real problems and encouraged through the valleys. We push and pull each other along the way because we know each other. This is no country club, no social club. We are all freaks, and we know it.

Adaptation

I, like every other fan of literature out there, watch with interest when a book I love is made into a movie. If you look at my profile, you'll notice that my favorite books are the Harry Potter series, the Anne of Green Gables series, the Chronicles of Narnia, and The Princess Bride. Incidentally, these all happen to be movies, as well. Because I love these books so dearly, I have a vested interest in how these stories are treated on the big screen. Treat them well, and I will pay good money to see the movie in the theater and buy them on DVD or Blu-ray. Treat them poorly, and I will rake you over the coals on my blog.

Some movies I like better than the books: Twilight, The Hunger Games (so far), and, forgive me, The Lord of the Rings. My preferences in the first two instances are due to the authors' writing styles--I didn't care for them all that much. The last one is because, although I recognize that Tolkien was a literary genius, I just don't like to read him, mainly because his descriptions go on for pages. Yes, there's a tower and a mountain and it's dark and scary, GET ON WITH THE ACTION.

I've been mostly pleased with the Harry Potter movies; the Narnia movies, on the other hand, have (except for the first one) really irritated me. I was re-watching the Anne movies this weekend, and my love and devotion to them is almost equal with that to the books. The Princess Bride is also a wash. So why is that? Why, with these books that I love so much, do I have such varying reactions to the movies?

I have a couple of theories.

First, with PB and Anne, I saw the movies before I ever read the books. Long before, and often. Perhaps my loyalties lie with what I consume first?

But I don't think that's entirely it. With those franchises, I am able to take the books as one thing and the movies as another. But why? Why do changes in Anne--and there are many, many changes--not bother me, but changes in Voyage of the Dawn Treader drive me crazy?

I think it goes beyond which medium I consumed first. I think it has more to do with the essence of the story, and more importantly, the essence of the characters.

For example, it does not bother me one whit that Tom Bombadil is not in the LOTR movies (again, my apologies). But it infuriates me that Faramir takes the ring. This is not just a change of events for the sake of action; this is a change that goes against the very essence of Faramir's character. He would NOT take the ring; he was the foil to his brother, Boromir, who nearly lost himself because of his desire for the ring. Heresy! Blasphemy!

The same goes for HP. I'm not all that upset that Dobby was removed from most of the movies (except it made his return in HP7I a little weird), because when Dobby was around, he acted very Dobby-ish. I'm not bothered by scenes that are added for action and drama, such as when The Burrow burns. But I am saddened when Dumbledore flies at Harry in Goblet of Fire to ask him if he put his name in the fire. Why? Because Dumbledore would never yell at Harry like that; it goes against the very nature of Dumbledore.

The same goes for all of Prince Caspian, where the movie has changed the heart and soul of Peter and Caspian so drastically--and for the worse--that I saw the movie once and will not watch it again.

And that's where PB and Anne get things right. Sure, much of the action is changed. In Anne, the changes are sweeping and dramatic. BUT! When reading the books, I can see how the characters and events in the movie were cobbled together from the characters and events in the books. I see the essence of the book and its inhabitants in the movies, and no changes are made that go against any one character's essence. (It should be noted that I have not seen, and nigh on refuse to acknowledge the existence of, the Continuing Story. Bleh. They hijacked characters I love to make a random story [read: profit], and it is not the story that belongs to those characters. Anne and Gilbert have a story, and it is not the story that is presented in that movie. They should have made House of Dreams instead, and that is all I have to say on that matter.)

But there it is! I love these characters dearly, and I don't like to see them maligned or altered in any way.


So add a fight where there isn't one! Change Harry's eye color (this drives Halle insane, but that's a completely different post)! Let Miss Stacy give Anne a job in Kingsport! But don't make Peter an egomaniacal jerk. Don't make Faramir take the ring, and for all that is good and holy, do not create a love story between Caspian and Susan!


I--and all lovers of literature--love books for a reason. It's not just the plot points that capture my heart and mind and allegiance. It is the people, the friends that dwell in those pages.  ("Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?") If you want my movie-going business, then leave my people be.

"Stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one's 'real' life. They are precisely one's real life." --C.S. Lewis

Many of us have read the quote above. I know I've seen it several times. We ponder its significance, its truth. It's so deep! It's so true! And then we move on.

But today I am unable to move on. This quote may be true, but today its truth kinda' pisses me off.

Allow me to explain.

I believe, deep down in my gut, that I have some sort of great, deep, grand purpose. Whether that's true or not, it's a passion I have worked from since I was around 15 or 16. At that time, I felt my purpose was going to be to reach my generation through the venue of Christian music. We all know how that worked out.

Over the next few years, I had no idea what my purpose was, and I think that's why I was so lost there for a while. Well, I was lost for a lot of reasons, but one of them was that I had no great, grand purpose.


So now I'm left wondering: do I not have a great, grand purpose? Other than being a wife and mother, is my only purpose to bring in a paycheck? I can't believe that. I know I work with students, and I know I work

Is my purpose simply to work hard at what I do, doing the best I can, hoping that there is some eternal value in the interactions I have with students? There is very little I do that feels eternal, and the stuff I do that feels eternal is all done outside of my job. I love the idea of being called to a vocation, a lifelong pursuit of passion and something that brings some right to this world. I just don't feel that I've ever actually been there.

I think Aaron has some of that in his job now. Thank God. What a journey we've been through, and to see him be able to fulfill that idea is wonderful. But it also makes me a bit jealous.

And what about the art? This thing that feels in my bones like a glimpse into eternity, this drive to create that is such hard work, but that fills me up? What about that? Is that ever real life?

Today I just don't know.

Today

Over the past several months, I have been withdrawing from social media.

(Ironic, of course, that I would use social media to declare my withdrawal from social media.)

First, obviously, it was blogging. It has been eight months since I've written a blog post. A small part of me is trying to tell me I should feel guilty about that, but the rest of me knows there is no guilt here. I've been busy, and in good ways. Writing has had to take a backseat, and I'm okay with that.

You see, the editing business is booming, and it's all I can do to keep up with it.

There's a lot to be said on that subject, but not here.

In any case, after I slacked off on the blog writing, or perhaps it was around the same time, I also stopped reading blogs. And then, lately, I've even stopped checking Facebook.

None of this has been intentional. It might make a better blog post if I were to tell you all of the reasons I knew I needed to make my world a bit smaller: Ten Reasons You Should Limit Your Exposure to Social Media, or some such. But I don't have ten reasons. And I didn't intend to do it.

I have just slowly found that checking here and checking there and reading about a lot of people that I generally don't actually know takes too much mental and emotional energy. For me. Right now.

I've got all the busyness I can handle, and I'm daily finding how to live this life, how to make art right now, where I am. Not trying to figure out where I'll be tomorrow. It's difficult, but one thing that's helped me is to, as I said, make my world a bit smaller.

But, today, I needed to write all this down and share it with the big world.

Of Knowing

I sat in the auditorium full of students laughing and joking, waiting for Chapel to start.

I was quiet and alone. My stomach churned from nerves and from morning sickness. I was eighteen, unmarried, and had just found out I was pregnant. I was in my first week at Dallas Baptist University--I only ended up staying two weeks--and I had no idea what I was going to do with myself.

I do not remember anything else about that Chapel service except the verse that was read. It was Jeremiah 29:11--

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

So God pretty much spoke directly to me that morning, and I struggled really hard not to ugly-cry right there in front of everybody.

And I've been trying to figure out what God's plan is for me ever since.

Growing up I figured I had a pretty special future. For a while I thought it was music, then I thought maybe it was writing. I think I've secretly thought, ever since I was a child, that having a great future meant some sort of fame. And at this point in my life, I'm pretty sure I won't ever be famous. It's a bit of a blow to the ego, but I'm reconciling myself to it.

I have a good job, and a start-up business, and a family, and friends. But I still don't know what the Grand Plan is for my life.

I'm increasingly okay with that. I am growing more comfortable with not having a clue what I'm becoming, with, instead, becoming comfortable with who I am right now, even if it's not what I would think of as great or grand. I am learning to stop expecting some sort of Arrival.

And as I was looking at my wall collages at work today--collages which include that verse, "I know the plans I have for you"--I noticed something I've never noticed before.

God doesn't say, "I have plans for you." He says, "I KNOW the plans I have for you." My inference is, "Even if you don't know what's going on, I know what's going on."

And today, more than 15 years later, there's no ugly cry looming under the surface. Just a smile as this mysterious God makes a bit more of himself known, and a deep breath as I give up a little more of my right to know.

Five Minute Friday - Laundry

First off, I have four kids. Let that sink in for a while.

Laundry with four kids is never-ending. A friend suggested one time that I just fold the baskets of laundry as they come out of the dryer instead of pulling the clean clothes out and letting them sit in baskets for an indeterminate amount of time.

It's a great plan, really it is. It makes perfect sense. But it ain't gonna happen.

Because laundry, like everything else in my life, doesn't happen in a vacuum. There is always someone, somewhere, needing me to do something else.

If I'm making dinner, someone is needing to be held. If I'm holding the baby, someone needs to be reminded to finish their chores. If I'm reminding someone to finish their chores, the soup is boiling over. And on and on it goes.

I don't think it's coincidence that a long list of things to do is called a laundry list. After all, laundry is a never-ending chore.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's just a thing. We catch up, we fall behind, we catch up, we fall behind. Laundry, life, ebb, flow. That's just the way it goes. And that's okay.


***Just a reminder about what exactly Five Minute Friday is: "not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing."

Addendum

I was just checking Facebook and Twitter for The Blue Pencil (hey, do you need an editor?), and I found this link to quotes on writing.

I have an entire document of writing quotes that I've collected over the years. After all, when your business is words, there's nothing like some good words for inspiration and motivation. So I added several quotes to my document, and saved the link for future reference.

And in the process, I made a very important discovery.

Reading through those quotes on writing? It made me want to write.

The fire is still there, and that's a good thing.

Five Minute Friday: Write

It took me a few decades and a come-to-Jesus moment to call myself a writer. I've talked about it ad nauseum on this blog, and you can dig into those archives if you want.

But lately, the writing has been mighty scarce. And I've found myself wondering, what do you call a writer who doesn't write? Does that mean I'm not a writer anymore?

Sort of like, if a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it, does it still make a noise?

I'm not making much noise, at least not publicly. I have a journal that I write in every few days. But that's more spiritual reflection/conversation stuff, not sit-down-and-really-write stuff.

**************

A Facebook friend and former classmate of mine announced today that one of her stories was accepted for publication, and I was equal parts happy for her and jealous of her. I've also talked about this before, the jealousy of others' writing success. And in the middle of those green feelings, I said to myself, "Well, she's been writing. You haven't. How can you get published if you don't write?"

I don't know what to think about any of it. I'm pretty sure I still love writing, still need it, still crave it. But I'm just as sure that this time of my life doesn't permit much writing. The art has to wait, and all that.

I'm not sad about it (perhaps I should be?), just a bit bewildered over what it all means.

Five Minute Friday: True

Yeah, it's been a while. That's just the way it's been lately.

Also, don't expect genius to follow, folks. That's just the way it's been lately, too.


True

When I think about what's true, I know I have to separate the things I KNOW are true from the things I FEEL are true. Sometimes they're the same; often they're not.

Today, for example, is just a blah sort of day. Micah hasn't been sleeping well, so I haven't been sleeping well. We all know that viewing the world through the haze of sleeplessness leads to less-than-true thoughts and feelings. I don't know if my history with depression makes me more prone to head down the paths of I Don't Care and Why Are You Still Asking Me Questions? and Work is Stupid and The Whole World is Stupid and Dear God, Please Just Let Me Sleep. But I do know those paths are beckoning today.

I'm fighting them off with a grande mocha and a little bit of what is actually true.

Things like, "Wait and hope for and expect the Lord; be brave and of good courage and let your heart be stout and enduring. Yes, wait for and hope for and expect the Lord."

And, "I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living."

I've been reading Anne of Green Gables lately, and she talks about how certain words just sound like poetry. These words are poetry to me this morning. If any person walked up and said these things to me, I'd probably nod and smile while thinking, "Shut up." But reading them? While sipping my mocha?

Truth, y'all.