The ‘Stay Away, Come Close’ Paradox and How it Looks Something Like Letting Love In.

Posted on November 26, 2012 by Melissa Otterbein

I was in the front seat of my friend’s car earlier today, wrapped up in one of those conversations where you don’t realize that you’ve been sitting there, in the dark, car in park, for an hour, together contemplating all of the idiosyncrasies of life. We mused about our relationships and the “come close, stay faraway” phenomenon that some people find themselves regrettably emulating at some point in their lives. Maybe you know that I’m talking about. That dynamic where you’re close with someone, and long to be even closer. So you let them in. And it’s beautiful. But there’s a part of you that’s scared, so scared, so you send “step back” signals.
I think there’s this component of our humanness that desperately craves closeness, intimacy, to be known, loved, and accepted, and for everything to be alright— even amazing, like waving your hands in the air, screaming, hair blown back by velocity on amusement park rides— that crashes into the part of ourselves that fights pain, fights changes, fights hurt and loss and namely, wants to protect ourselves from everything and anything scary, unknown, and potentially pain-inducing.
Have you ever witnessed that “come close, stay faraway” factor?

Bruce Springsteen ponders it in “Secret Garden.”

She’ll lead you down a path
There’ll be tenderness in the air
She’ll let you come just far enough
So you know she’s really there
She’ll look at you and smile
And her eyes will say
She’s got a secret garden
Where everything you want
Where everything you need
Will always stay
A million miles away.

Similarly, Goo Goo Dolls begs for the soul of another to open the door of their heart with love in “Let Love In:”
You’re the only one I ever believed in
The answer that could never be found
The moment you decided to let love in
Now I’m banging on the door of an angel
The end of fear is where we begin
The moment we decided to let love in.

U2 seemed to have similar sentiments in their 1993 hit “Stay (Faraway, So Close).” Bono created the song for the movie “Faraway, So Close,” sharing that “the film was about angels who want to be human and who want to be on Earth. But to do so they have to become mortal. That was a great image to play with – the impossibility of wanting something like this, and then the cost of having it.”¹ I mirror that with the “stay close, don’t get too close” theme of love costing something: crossing into the unknown and in doing so, facing your own vulnerability. And that’s a scary thing.

In The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis writes, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

I think we’re all a little bit scared of letting one another in. Into all those little cracks and crevices of our soul that are properly seated in the classroom, hands clasped, praying not be called upon. Don’t get me wrong, boundaries have merit. We can’t let everything, or everyone, into our souls. Some influences aren’t the ones we need to grow. Some things in this world will defile and break down our souls. Like a peephole on a door, it’s healthy to choose your influences and who you will surround yourself with.
I just wonder about the times in which we pushed something or someone out when we should have brought them in.
I wonder how many times we missed out on love- any love- agape, romantic, friendship- because we were too scared of having our heart opened, exposed, fully letting in the light of another.
I wonder how many conversations we’ve accumulated in which we settled for safe by responding to “how are you?” with trite replies of “good” when every part of us knows we’re not good. So we quickly progress to stale topics, like the weather, all the while depriving our souls of deepness and wonder and intimacy.
I wonder how many of us will reach some ripe old age with questions about our families left unanswered because we were too afraid to ask about the skeletons in our closets or the dirty laundry or the elephants in the room or the mess that feels too knotty until, in our bravest moments, we gather the courage to unknot the tangles to realize that when we put the pieces back together again, it can be even more beautiful than when we first started.

So our souls fight to trust Him/Her and we take a chance here, go for a risk there, holding God’s hand, perhaps, I wonder, content with splashing around in the baby pool because even with swimmies, we’re too scared to try the big pool and so we’re splashing and getting our toes wet, all the while hearing the joyful, playful shouts of friends or strangers dunking each other in the big pool, diving and doing handstands and checking out the ocean… and while every thing in our soul shouts, “you’re big enough,” “you’re brave enough,” “go play,” “go try,” “there’s room out there for you too,” we resist it and lament in our kiddie pools, smiling when the jets pour in just a little more water for our ankles to become wet.

What are we so afraid of? Of getting hurt? Of getting let down? Sometimes, for me at least, yes. But what makes me think my feeble “stop sign” hand is what will protect me from the precarious position of human life and emotion? I’m beginning, more and more, to think that every time I hold out my hand to guard, to protect, to control the outcome or not get hurt or not experience pain or change, or actively contribute to my growth moving from the known into the unknown, I have to start to wonder if I’m doing more harm than good. Do we want to look back on life and realize that all of our guarded moments never actually protected us at all? Can we accept that living with your heart on your sleeve may get you hurt, but it’s the only way to truly live, to truly feel, to truly heal, to truly “be real” with another human being?

I know we’ve tasted the opposite, too. You know that soul-to-soul connection with that friend, with that lover, with that mentor? Where it’s you and them and the two of you realize there’s so much more going on here than we can fathom. And that by opening ourselves up to the truth, our questions, the things we’ve been wondering, we are greeted not in word or whisper but by a taste of the soul, as if our hearts are whispering to each other, “See, isn’t this beautiful?”

I had one of those connections the other day with my dad. We were biking and I was talking to him about stuff from childhood, asking questions I never thought to ask, and learning things I never knew about our family. This is the beautiful connection that happens when we cross over and enter into each other’s stories, but not the finished part, rather the unexpurgated story that’s raw and real and human.

I don’t know what all this letting love in and being vulnerable stuff looks like, and I’m tempted to cast this whole thing off as being overly emotional as I once again stay up too late, writing this, pondering life and spirituality and the rings upon rings of circled skin that compose my fingerprint. But I think we’re onto something. Onto something with the whole letting-love-in-thing… starting with letting God’s love in and as that takes a hold of our heart over and over again, like the daily tide washing over the shore, we’ll discover the beauty and the holy ground that’s only possible when we, too, recognize that
the only way to see again
is to let love in.

Have you ever found yourself in the “Stay Away, Come Close” phenomenon? What was that experience like? How do these experiences intertwine spiritually, emotionally, in our relationships, in our friendships?

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stay_(Faraway,_So_Close!)

“Unwrapping my Lollipop:” Musings on the Best and Worst “Christian Sex” Advice I’ve Received

Posted on November 23, 2012 by Melissa Otterbein

“Your body is a wrapped lollipop. When you have sex with a man, he unwraps your lollipop and sucks on it. It may feel great at the time, but, unfortunately, when he’s done with you, all you have left for your next partner is a poorly wrapped, saliva-fouled sucker.”

I cringed behind the wheel, appalled at the quoted words I heard coming from my audio copy of “Half the Sky” as authors Sheryl WuDunn and Nicholas Kristoff discussed this statement uttered by Darren Washington, an abstinence educator, at the Eighth Annual Abstinence Clearinghouse Conference.

The sad things is, it wasn’t too far off many Christian messages I’ve received about sex.
But let’s go back to the beginning.
Growing up, we didn’t talk about sex in my family. Truth is, I kinda wish my parents did. Not in a lecturing way or in an embarrassing way incorporating stick figure drawings, but honest talk about human sexuality. When you give youth freedom and a framework for values that don’t demand or shame, youth, in my observations, are generally receptive to what you have to say. ((Mom and Dad, if you’re reading this, sorry. We can talk about this over Christmas dinner. Should make for lively conversation while we’re passing around the ham.)) According to the 2010 National Campaign report, eight in ten teens (80%) say that it would be much easier for teens to delay sexual activity and avoid teen pregnancy if they were able to have more open, honest conversations about these topics with their parents. Similarly, six in ten teens (62%) wish they were able to talk more openly about relationships with their parents.1

Moving away from the home realm and into public education, I remember first being presented with the birds and the bees in 6th grade health class. I didn’t quite understand it, but “The Miracle of Life” video in 9th grade biology class certainly helped clear up a few things. Then came my freshman year of college in which my Sexuality in a Diverse Society professor had the class write a list of as many words as we could think of for “penis” and “vagina.” One person from each group had to read their group’s list aloud to the class. There were lots of giggles and guffaws, plus a few phrases I never thought to associate with human genitalia, leaving me utterly baffled and slightly disturbed.
Sex ed’s debut can be traced back to the 1970s, when their was growing public concern about STDs, teen pregnancy, and increased access to birth control.2 Currently, 22 states and the District of Columbia mandate sex education. 17 states and the District of Columbia require that information on contraception be provided. 37 states require that information on abstinence be provided, 26 of which require that abstinence be stressed, while 11 require that it be covered.3 Generally speaking, you can’t be a teen in America and not hear something about sex during the course of your education, but the content of what you hear may vary greatly depending on your state, locality, whether the school was public or private, or whether it had a religious affiliation.

Moving away from public education into the media, it can go without saying that sex messages are rampant. “Whistle,” a song apt to play on any pop station since it’s release in summer 2012, teaches youth how to perform a blowjob in one catchy tune. But let’s not be naïve here, sex has always been sung about, whether subtly or directly. Baby boomers, remember Peggy Lee’s 1958 hit “Fever” and Righteous Brothers’ “Ebb Tide” circa 1965? Oh, and let’s not forget about Marvin Gaye’s 1973 smash hit… well, you probably already know the title.4

Moving away from media and into religion, this is where I heard both the most appalling as well as the most beautiful messages about sex, some of which are quoted below. Too often, I fear the Church is silent and bashful about sex; one reason, I purport, that youth look to society and friends for answers to questions that they fear are not allowed to be talked about in religious settings, perhaps feeling embarrassed for even pondering such thoughts or questions.

Conversely, when the Church has spoken out about sex, many messages I heard have either been shaming or repressive. Specifically, shaming messages have concentrated upon condemnation of pre-marital sex, and in the process, have hurt and shamed young men and women who have regrets in this arena. Not a picture of the grace and forgiveness I believe Jesus wishes we could experience, and certainly not helping any of us to forgive one of the hardest people to forgive when it comes to something so personal: ourselves. Repressive teachings in the Evangelical culture are those often associated with women and sex. This includes messages ranging from giving your husband pleasure whenever he wants it because this is what he is entitled to as “your leader;” to “You’re a woman. You shouldn’t feel sexual until you’re married. Be pure and chaste.”

I think there’s a place away from both the over-sensualized music videos of Rihanna girating on youtube, and away from bashful “don’t have sex” conversations that discusses sex in a real, authentic way, unabashed in rich, non-shaming, gracious, and open discussion. Bona fide conversations, not lectures, that point to something to bigger than ourselves… our Creator. Herein describes some of those aforementioned messages and a more holistic alternative:

Worst Messages Received About “Christian Sex”:
“In the past, teenagers heard lessons or sermons with theologically suspect object lessons–involving simulated plane crashes, cupcakes with mangled frosting, boards with nail holes in them, roses with missing petals, and wads of chewed gum–meant to be analogies for sexual sin and its consequences.” -Linda Hoffman Kimball, Teaching Saintly Sex (great article on not-so-great teachings)

Give your husband sex whenever he wants it, even if it hurts you; menopause is no excuse. -Debi Pearl, Created to be his Helpmeet (see chapter 16)

Have long hair. -Athol Kay, Girl Game: Have Long Hair

It is your role to lead your wife into a fuller understanding of what Scripture teaches about your sexual relationship. -CJ Mahaney, Sex, Romance, and the Glory of God: What Every Christian Husband Needs to Know with a Word to Wives from Carolyn Mahaney

Homosexuality provides a particularly obvious example. Lesbianism typically presents a different picture from male homosexuality. Many lesbians were once actively, unambivalently heterosexual, whether promiscuous or faithfully married. They might have conceived, borne, and raised children without much questioning of their sexual identity. But over time the men in their lives proved disappointing, violent, drunken, uncomprehending, or unfaithful. Perhaps during the unhappiness of a slow marital disintegration, or while picking up the wreckage after a divorce, other women proved to be far more understanding and sympathetic friends. Emotional intimacy and communication opened a new door. Sexual repatterning as a lesbian came later. The life-reshaping “lusts of the ﬂesh” were not initially sexual. Instead, cravings to be treated tenderly and sympathetically—to be known, understood, loved, and accepted—played ﬁrst violin, and sex per se played viola. -David Powlison, Making All Things New: Restoring Pure Joy to the Sexually Broken (I would love to see the research that supports Powlison’s claim that “many lesbians were once heterosexuals unambivantly heterosexual but the men in their lives let them down”).

We women were designed by God to be helpers and to make men successful- Carolyn McCully, Sex and the Single Woman

We need to discover what makes us attractive to our husbands. What clothing, hairstyle, or makeup do they ﬁnd most appealing? As always, the standard of “modesty and self-control” set forth in 1 Timothy 2:8-10 applies. And we should strive to care for our appearance—not only when we go out, but also at home where only our husbands see us. As my childhood pastor used to say, “If the barn needs painting, paint it!” Well, what color should that barn be painted? The answer is, whatever is attractive to our husbands! -Sex, Romance, and the Glory of God: What Every Christian Wife Needs to Know, Carolyn Mahaney (Maybe we can explore how to honor our husband’s/wife’s/girlfriend’s/boyfriend’s preferences regarding attraction, but what I wish I heard in each of these relationship talks is that first we need to discover what makes ourselves feel comfortable in our own skin. We need to have our sense of self before delving into the wishes, preferences, and requests of what others would like from us. That quality- being a person who possesses their own sense of self and identity- is damn sexy.)

When we choose to obey God and give our bodies to our husbands—even if we don’t feel like it—God will reward us with pleasure. -Carolyn Mahaney, Sex, Romance, and the Glory of God, pg. 118 ((I do not think women should be encouraged to “martyr” themselves with their vaginas for the sake of a man’s sexual promptings. I’m not saying to ignore your partner’s desires completely, as I think that would be selfish, but if women are to pleasure their husbands when they don’t feel like it, why aren’t men being told that they should pleasure their wives even when they have E.D. or aren’t “in the mood? (Yes, I believe that there are actually times when a man may not wish to have sex at that particular moment.))

Let her breasts satisfy thee at all times, and be thou ravished always with her love.-Proverbs 5:19 (I don’t think it’s a woman’s responsibility to let her boobs satisfy a man at all times–i.e. 24/7. For one, if you’re around each other 24/7/365, you’ll probably wish for some space away, even for an hour, at some point- which naturally includes boobs. Additionally, I think this puts so much value and emphasis on a woman’s breasts- is that fair? What if she has a mastectomy? Similarly, some men who have ED experience feelings of worthlessness, shame, and depression.5 When we put so much emphasis on particular parts of the body, we forget about the rest: the WHOLE person that you committed to loving “in sickness and in health,” which I think also includes “in arousal and non-arousal.”)

-You’re not married: Sex is bad. Sex is bad. Sex is bad. Sex is bad. Oh you’re married? Sex is good. Sex is good. Sex is good. (Is it wise to make grand-sweeping claims that sex is a “bad thing” that suddenly becomes “good? Can we better articulate this by proposing that there is a life stage in which sex can be maturely enjoyed physically, emotionally, and spiritually, and other life stages in which this would be premature?)

-Sex is solely for procreation. (This is where I disagree with the socially conservative sects of the Catholic Church. Sorry, but I think ya’ll are missing out.)

-The pages I ripped out of “Undressed” by Jason Illian (Apparently, I disagreed with them so strongly that I threw them away- specifically pages 105-108).

Best:
“Let me teach you something. Those who tell you that sex is intimate and sacred… they’re right. But please also know that you are God’s child, not an item to be assigned a value. Your sexuality can never make you worthless. It is your responsibility to respect and love the part of yourself that creates pleasure and life. Get to know yourself well enough to decide what’s right for your body. Always honor your boom-shaka, va-va-va-voom, and chicka-chicka-wow-wow, because this world is jam-packed with people who will try to tell you what those things are for. And if you lose your own voice amid the warnings, whining, and admonishments, you’ll lose the most important matter at hand: Your Creator gave you sexuality because He loves you. It’s a blessing. And it only belongs to you.” -Abigail Wurdeman, Sexual Responsibility

“Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires” -Song of Songs 2:7 (“Can’t Hurry Love” pops in my head every time I come across this verse.)

In response to Rob Bell’s five year old son asking his wife, Kristen, what “sexy” means: “Sexy is when it feels good to be in your own skin. Your own body feels right, it feels comfortable. Sexy is when you love being you.” -Rob Bell, Sex God, p. 46

“You are not alone. Whatever you struggle with, whatever you have questions about, you are not alone. It doesn’t matter how dark it is or how much shame or weakness or regret it involves, you are not alone.” -Rob Bell, Sex God, pg. 62

-The entire “Flame” video by Rob Bell

“Everything is permissible but not everything is beneficial.” -1 Corinthians 6:12 (Something to the tune of we have freedom here to be whoever, do whatever, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Also remember that every choice we make- not just our sexual decisions- has a consequence- either positive, negative, or a mix of both).

“Her desire for children doesn’t come from between her legs. It comes from her heart. She believes it’s possible God wanted to give His children a gift so grand, that He created the most intense bodily sensation.” -Susan Diamond, God’s Gift So Grand

If none of those messages hit home, may I offer another alternative? Gracious, comprehensive, and holistic dialogue to counter an all-too-often rote conversation about just waiting to have sex until marriage. This one’s particularly for all the girls out there— as many messages (such as the “lollipop” quote) are disproportionately directed at girls’ “purity:”

To all the high school (and middle school) girls out there— if you have a friend who is being pressured into having sex, do her a favor and help her listen to and discover that voice that’s inside of her, her very own, somewhere, potentially pleading to be heard among the sea of other voices trying to drown or dissuade her. In a joint-survey, Seventeen Magazine and The National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy discovered that one in five teenage girls (22%) reported having sex because they were pressured to (not because they wanted to).6 Help a sister out and ask her to look deep inside and see what she really feels.

-If anyone tries to shame you or invoke fear about a sexual decision you have made in the past, remember that you are more than your past regrets and realize that the person sharing this is more concerned with displaying pompous power than being a source of grace and guidance in your life.

-Ask yourself some good questions. What does sex mean to you? What do you think is the purpose of sex? How do you believe you can honor yourself, your relationship(s), and God with your choices?

-Don’t be afraid to speak up when you hear something that seems incongruent with what your heart, soul, and faith tell you— Even if it is someone from the Church.

-Challenge yourself to define your view of love. This, to me, is the most beautiful thing I’ve read about love and wish to include it as a reading at my wedding one day (way down the road):

“I will love you like God, because of God, mighted by the power of God. I will stop expecting your love, demanding your love, trading for your love, gaming for your love. I will simply love. I am giving myself to you, and tomorrow I will do it again. I suppose the clock itself will wear thin its time before I am ended at this altar of dying and dying again. God risked Himself on me. I will risk myself on you. And together, we will learn to love, and perhaps then, and only then, understand this gravity that drew Him, unto us.”
-Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz

And one final question to ponder… where does your affirmation come from? If you can’t find value, worth, and acceptance from within-the person made and loved by God,- it’s going to be even harder to find it when placed into the hands of someone else.

Feel free to comment below. Please note that any derogatory comments will be deleted.

What messages have you heard about sex? What resonated with you as wise and helpful and what was not?
Looking back, have your views about sex changed over the years?
Why do you think conversations or messages about sex are often “hush hush” or overtly hyper-sexualized? (I realize that sex is a personal and intimate thing to discuss, but on the whole, I believe it is being talked about anyway—- and often in extremes.)

Sources:
1. http://www.thenationalcampaign.org/resources/pdf/pubs/wov_2010.pdf
2. http://amplifyyourvoice.org/u/tristaann02/2009/12/03/the-beginning-of-sex-education-in-the-us-a-historical-perspective
3. http://www.guttmacher.org/statecenter/spibs/spib_SE.pdf
4. http://top40.about.com/od/top10lists/tp/Top-50-Sexy-Pop-Songs.htm
5. http://health.usnews.com/health-conditions/sexual-health/erectile-dysfunction/overview
6. http://www.thenationalcampaign.org/resources/pdf/pubs/girl-talk.pdf

Turning Chain Linked Fences into Open Fields

Posted on November 3, 2012 by Melissa Otterbein

“loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke,
set the oppressed free and break every yoke” ::isaiah 58::

“Proclaiming freedom to captives” and “where the spirit of God is, there is freedom” are beautiful gems strung together like pearls throughout the Bible. Here’s 68 more of those. I’m sure there’s more.

But what do you do when this very same belief, Church, Christian faith, doctrine, enslaves you?

What do you do when you’re told “you’re wrong?” When you cringe at the idea of voicing up a question, sharing your experience, or your opinion for fear of retaliation? What do you do when you aren’t accepted by some? What do you do when everything in your heart tells you one thing but your head is full of voices that drown you in disapproval?

What do you do then, when you discover yourself straight in the arms of God, away from those restraints and fears and arguing, as s/he places you in his loving arms beside still waters? What do you do after a good heart to heart talking-on-down from your maker proceed by an introduction to children of the same God, playing in a big open field, beckoning, inviting, waving you on in, urging, “come on in, there’s room for you!?” When someone invites you to cartwheels, to running barefoot through this wide open field, heel against moist Earth and cushy, verdant grass? When someone sits beside you, blowing on wishies, talking about the Ancient of Days, and love and grace as they share their kite with you, untie the noose around your neck, and replace that choker of dogma with wings to fly? I know, they feel a little funny at first, right? But go on. Those wings are yours. And you can choose which direction you fly. Trust me, babe, these wings are made for you, by your Creator. He longs for you to give yourself permission to let your feet off the ground and take flight.

Suddenly each of you will have flown to a place. A place with this big, big table, with some grape juice and wine, some bread and some wafers, and you realize that everyone you’ve ever known and everyone you’ll ever know is gathered here, around this same table, and none of us are bickering or arguing or correcting or any of those other forms of speaking you can do with your mouths… just the kind of speaking that comes from our hearts, as we hold one another’s hands in reverence of the great big God who brought us all together. What do you do then, gathered around this love feast of saints and sinners, the “wrongs” next to the “rights,” brushing hands and elbows until surrender takes over and those hands are squeezing each other’s? Oh the downtrodden and weary suddenly finding their soul lifted as an inexplicable joviality takes over, cobwebs of depression and never-being-good-enough flinging and zinging up into the atmosphere, slowly dissipating into the cosmos, exploding into stars, bringing light to darkness, and beauty, too.

I don’t know what you do.

But worship the Holy.

And forget the rest.

And decide that this little bird’s gonna leave the cage, open up, and sing, along with all the other birds on trees, calling out to one another from Evergreen to Evergreen, and telephone wire, and, if you’re not ready to fly just yet, we’d still love to hear you, even from your nest.

We’ll celebrate all that’s bright and beautiful and good.

And try to live everyday in that field and around that table.

And create fields where it seems like there is only cracked pavement baking in the mid-afternoon sun, litter bunched around the chained fence.

And we’ll stock our fridges with bread and wine, ready to whip them out whenever we’re stuck in a moment that’s far strayed away from that meadow, those still waters, these gripped hands that are desperately ready to be open palms, clasping your hand, as you hold someone else’s, like dominoes mellifluously falling into sea billows of grace.

I’m ready for this.

I’ll head out to the grocery store now and make my way to those fields.
And though late autumn has settled in, I’ll bring nothing but a lightweight jacket, knowing my heart will grow warm from all of the love and the hugs and hands holding other hands.

My love/hate relationship with the Bible.

Posted on October 3, 2012 by Melissa Otterbein

I’ve had a love/hate relationship with the Bible this year.
There.
I said it.

Oh, I know what I’m supposed to say about the Bible- it’s divinely inspired, living and breathing, sharper than any double –edged sword. I know what I’m supposed to do- read it daily, memorize it, “eat it” (Jeremiah 15:16), “hide it in my heart” (Psalm 119:1).

But I’m trying to be real here.
And in my current season of life, that’s not quite where I am.

This year, these feelings have been precipitated by a writing piece I’ve been working on as well as the inspiration and wisdom I’ve read from several authors/bloggers I respect. Rachel Held Evans posts about Biblical Womanhood and points out that this can mean anything from making a woman marry her rapist, to calling your husband master, if you take the Bible at its literal word. She was making a point that we need to ask better questions about why we interpret things the way we do and to be wise with the way we throw around “Biblical” in front of words. Because we all “pick and choose” which scripture to follow. For example, I choose not to follow the scripture verse that says to kill a woman if she isn’t a virgin (Deuteronomy 22:21). All of this reading and processing got me thinking. I’ve been working on a writing piece in which I’m trying to find 101 verses that Evangelicals no longer follow and 101, in contrast, that if followed, would literally change the world. I’ve had lots of stops and starts along the way. I’ve been working on it since April. It’s now October.

Why do I keep stopping and starting?

I stop often because I lament and am frustrated about the way women were treated in the Old Testament and how certain verses in the Old Testament and New Testament are used to promote gender roles, in particular, that women should be submissive and men should be leaders. I mourn the wars, the violence, God smashing babies heads on rocks. I feel unsettled when I read narrow verses about eternity and can’t fathom God banishing my Jewish friends or my Muslim sisters in the Middle East who lived their lives in Earthly Hells of forced prostitution, genital mutilation, and honor killings. They dealt with this their whole Earthly life, and now, supposedly, they will have a relentless life in Hell in their life after death too?

Sometimes I feel a sense of shame for feeling the way I do. Especially because I “know” what I “should” be thinking, feeling, and saying about the Bible.

But simply put, I can’t fake it anymore.

It’s leaking out.
I bring my Bible to less and less places these days.
I open it less and less these days.

But I am learning more about God, the ways that He/She speaks, more about people and imago dei than ever before. I am learning that the story didn’t end with Revelation. I believe, along with the UCC and other churches, that God is, indeed, still speaking and that he isn’t limited to the sole medium of the Bible.

By looking for him in ways other than this book, I am washed over with refreshment by all of the ways I discover him all around me. In the beauty of the trees. In a song. In the resilience of women and girls who have been trafficked but refuse to see themselves or others as victims, rather as victors. By not reading this book as much as I “should,” I am more acute to these other ways he speaks (kind of like how dogs don’t have good vision, but make up for this with an excellent sense of smell). I guess what I’m saying is I see him everywhere. And it’s not in the more traditional places that I’ve been so affixed to.

He’s everywhere. All day. I see his love win out over evil time and time again. I know that’s supported by a verse in the Bible. Though I’m not reading it right now and quoting it, I am most certainly experiencing it and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God’s hand is in this, making beauty out of brokenness.

There’s some dark stuff in the Bible. Genocides, infanticides, killing animals (God’s creation) to assuage God into forgiveness of sin, commanding women to remove themselves from everyday society simply because they had their period and that this uncontrollable bodily act is somehow so revolting that women should be embarrassed to be seen when it, by no choice of their own, arrives biologically…

There’s beautiful stuff too. You know. Faith, hope, love. Forgiveness, grace, life over death. I can’t read 1 Corinithians 13 without feeling a deep connection to something holy and beautiful. I can’t read the Sermon on the Mount without feeling as though Jesus was truly remarkable, encouraging all of us to live a life very subversive to cultural, societal, even, at times, religious mores.

But for right now, I’m taking a little break from this book. You can tell me that I’m straying in my faith. You can tell me that I shouldn’t be doing this. You can tell me I’m wrong. You can tell me I’m missing out. You can call me a disrespectful sinner. You can tell me that God doesn’t like the way I’m talking about His word. Go ahead.

As for me, I’ll be sitting here, real, raw and exposed, being transformed into something, someone, I hope, that has experienced God on a visceral level, reminded that some of our “Heroes of Faith” mentioned in Hebrews 11 did not even own Bibles. And to let you in on a little secret, I do, in fact, still turn to it from time to time. Just not as often as I have in the past. And to let you in on another little secret, I really do love this book. Not in the pollyanna ways I once used to, but from a part of me that’s been willing to ask questions, talk to God openly and honestly about what’s going on here, and take a chance that even though I may not be reading it, I am, in fact, experiencing it. And sometimes in life we don’t need to read anymore; sometimes we need to get our hands dirty, our toes squiggling through wet grass, because life is meant to jump off the page, have actions to correlate with words, and to be LIVED. Because the story is still being written. Somewhere along the way, I feel as though I’m living the words I have read or heard quoted time and time again. And sometimes I wonder if I’m literally standing on a page in the Bible. But then I realize that I’m experiencing it, in real time, and somewhere in between this reading and experiencing, it all amalgamates, and I don’t know if I’m reading or living or both. All I know is it’s beautiful, it’s holy, it’s reckless, swelling with this life abandoned, messy with watercolor streaks painted far outside the lines. I’m not worried about my behavior (or misbehavior if that’s how you see it) in this season. I’m ok with experiencing God in ways predominately outside the Bible in this current season. Because He’s got me. He’s got you. Letting each one of us experience Him in the ways we connect with him the most. I’ll keep coming back to this book; you can count on that. You can travel the world over, but there is some place in the world that can resonate as home. I guess what I’m saying is I’ve left my “safe home” of Bible reading “quiet times” (Christianese for Bible devotionals) and I’m running around the field, to first base, and second base, and even third, and I will always end at home. I might strike out on my way. But I always start fresh at bat from “home.” I’ve found my home in Christ, and this home is lit with the light from the Bible. And it’s also lit with solar panels and candlelight; it’s energized by some stories of the poor, some preaching, some time spent in solitude out in Creation, sunlight on my face…

It’s beautiful.

So beautiful that the more I think about it, I wouldn’t describe my Bible relationship as “love/hate.”

I’d say it’s “love/freedom,” and it’s an insatiable love that cannot be contained to any page or binding.

If you see me somewhere along the way on my journey to “home,” I’d appreciate your encouragement, not your judgments. I hope we can ask each other hard questions. I hope we can recognize that there is so much going on here than we will ever realize and that’s why it’s called FAITH. I hope you accept me when I say that I see a lot of grey in the Bible, with a few “black and whites.” But maybe you won’t. And that’s ok. I’ll see you at home plate, where we will celebrate the big, big God we worship as this big, big team as brothers and sisters. There might even be ice cream.

Oh, Because You are Called to be Free…

Posted on August 6, 2012 by Melissa Otterbein

You, Oh Child, are called to be free…

I know you’ve seen the yelling, the pointed fingers, the uproar over fealty to chicken sandwiches and embroidered flag instead of cross and love for thy neighbor. Maybe your ears cannot listen to one more spew of theological pedantry. You might be afraid to come any closer to the light because there are shadows busy making faces at you, saying come in, but only if you change…Perhaps their asperity over this issue or that issue has got you wondering what this is even all about, anyway, and maybe it’s just some show to help small people feel big, important, as though God is patting them on the back with every Bible verse they retort.

Oh.

But you… you have been called to freedom.

Can you feel it? See it, sense it, taste it, inhale it?

Can you see beggars finding bread? Can you see the orphan being held? Can you see forgiveness and grace? Can you find that voice ushering you in, oh that voice that longs to sit with you beside still waters?

Oh Child, you’ve been called into something different. Much different. You’ve been called into freedom. Lay down the weight of others’ reactions. Lay down the teachings that constrain you, sucking joy and precious energy out of you. Lay down the opinions of others, especially those that are unsolicited. Lay down your hurt, your ammo, your doubts.

Oh because you have been freed from all of that.

That pressure of being someone else’s definition of perfect, someone else’s portrayal of what it means to be a Godly woman or man, someone else’s expectations of you, the voices that tell you to just be quiet and play nice and downplay your passions and convictions. That voice that tells you that you “shouldn’t” feel this way or that way, ask questions, or have another point of view.

Oh that your thought life would be filled with BIGGER things. Dreams. Aspirations. Social Change.

Oh because you have been freed.

You have been freed from the worrying, the straining of trying to please God, Oh Child, because you already are. You already are… Sometimes we need a good kick in the… butt. But unless God specifically reveals that to you (and he will), TRUST that you’re doing enough, being enough, are enough. On to the being, not the doing…

Stop your fretful prayers laboring over making sure that every decision is God’s will for you, lest you go out on your own and discover that God’s hand is capable of showing the way and that he will uphold you in every situation and circumstance, and even use a wrong turn for good…

Something beautiful. Something insanely simple and mellifluous will enter into those hands frought with sweaty palms, and those tired eyes, straining over verses cached in Leviticus or Isaiah that cause a lump in your throat, afraid to voice that no, no something in here is terribly, terribly wrong about inciting war and infanticide and sacrifices.

No. You haven’t been called to that.

You’ve been called by Jesus So Loving, flowing rivulets of faith, hope, and love into your heart.

This is Jesus.

Who teaches us to “learn from the birds and wildflowers.”

This is Jesus.

Who challenged social norms, speaking and teaching women during a time in which they were forbidden and discouraged from learning the Torah, coming over to a woman’s house for dinner… oh yes causing holy ruckus for sure!

This is Jesus.

Who thought it was worth his time, not his pity, to spend with the poor, the prostitutes, the pushed aside, the left behind, “all who are weary…”

This is Jesus.

Who says his life for you is unfettered, your burden easy, yoke light.

This is Jesus.

Where would you be if He was right there in His presence?

Wrapped up in a loving embrace? Finding yourself in the company of someone who wants to eat dinner with you, to remind you that you’re worth something, loved, unconditionally, that something way bigger is going on here and he longs for you to be a part of it?

He’s still gathering women together at wells, at his feet, still teaching, still discipling… Still encouraging us to go forth and set the world on fire with love, love, the whole wide world, the Kingdom come, On Earth as In Heaven, all colors bleeding into one, forever and ever and ever, amen, yes.

Do you feel it?

Oh, do you feel Him?

Oh do you sense there is so much more?

Oh do you see that we can simply move forward and love God and love people and be a part of healing others’ hurts and pains and feeding each other when we’re hungry, be it for food, for touch, for love, for companionship?

Have you found open, burgeoning springs free of foolish discourse?

Have you tasted a simple life that is abundant and disencumbered from debates and arguments? Do you notice that Jesus didn’t care what other people thought of him and he wishes the same for you?

Oh.

Do you feel the ability to cartwheel, to dance, to swing, to make merry, to pick berries from bushes, sweetness filling your mouth as you sing, splash, run, verdant grasses tickling your barefoot feet?

Oh have you found a place where the quarrels have dissipated, where your quietness, passiveness, subservience are not necessary?

Oh it’s so bright and resplendent. Oh we hold hands here. We love each other here as Children of God; we threw away the labels a long time ago, no longer flagrantly viewed by our sexual identities, our political affinities, our skin color, our bank account, our gender…

Oh swimmingly this wave of freedom is swelling, pining for you to ride atop its waves, not to be crushed down by it. It’s beautiful, really, when you can just ride it and lay on top of it, stomach facing skyward as the water bobs up and down and around you.

I know, I know that for far too long people have tried to use this wave to knock you off your feet, to tell you that there’s no room in their ocean for people like you. People have tried to use this wave to divide, to make less than, but child, waves have the amazing ability to carry you to shore for shell-picking, making sandcastles, making footprints in the sand…

I know for far too long, they’ve told you how far out you can swim, where you can and cannot use your boogie boards…oh they’ve used that wave to crush, pointed fingers spouting out this verse, then that verse, then that verse in the Old AND New Testament…

But we are in an ocean of freedom here. Come, come on in, the water’s warm, yet slightly cool that you may decide to stick your toes in first to adjust before you are overwhelmed with refreshment.

Oh yes.
Because Child,
You are called to freedom.

82 Christmas Parading Cop Cars

Posted on January 19, 2012 by Melissa Otterbein

I’m driving back home after a run, noticing the persistent knot of anxiety in my stomach for the 97th time. I find myself thinking about this twenty something stage of life and how, from a billion different angles, people, places, and things are changing rapidly, like the wind, and I feel like a little wishie dandelion in a big field wondering why I’m no longer yellow, hoping I don’t get mistaken for a weed, and also hoping my seeds won’t scatter away at once. But I am not a dandelion, I am a human. Driving in a car. Getting closer to my neighborhood, I say my constant prayer to ask God to keep me safe again just one more time.

I know.

Some people are pros at living life, shining their little light in the inner city, just like anywhere else.

I myself am a scared, fearful, constantly awed, diversity-loving, naïve city dweller.

So bear with me.

I’m getting closer to my house, knowing my beloved and ever-patient roommate had left for Christmas break and unless I decided to find a friend to stay with, I’d be spending the night in the hood, alone, with no one else in the house. I started crying, realizing that until moving, I never had placed myself in situations where my safety had crossed my mind. I know. You’re probably sick of hearing me cry or me writing about crying or telling these stories. I’m sorry. As pathetic as it may sound, I was crying. It started raining (of course) and it was dark (fits with the story, right?). I made a right turn to get onto my one way street and noticed two pulled over police cars with their lights on, flashing. Of course. I peered in my rear view to see if I could make out anything going on. Realizing my eyes we no longer on the road, I snapped out of it before I could hit a parked car. ((Turns out that later on that night, I would find out through a neighbor that they were there investigating a double shooting. I’m glad I didn’t know that at the time. ))

I find a spot outside my house, park the car, and step out, sighing, “God, I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” feeling discouraged and in need of direction, trying to ignore my own cynicism and fears that often ensnare me into the Kingdom of Me. I don’t mean to keep arriving there. I start off in the Kingdom of God and suddenly I find myself at a bread and breakfast all-inclusive stay at the Kingdom of Me. I’m done. I want out.

I walk to my doorstep, steady rain falling, and notice cop cars pulling on to my street, sirens blaring. Above are two police helicopters swirling shining spotlights in irregular patterns. One, two, three, four, five police cars. I’m already crying, but now the tears were really coming as I begin to quiver at the thought of what could be going on. This must be bad. This has to be bad. Six, seven, eight, nine. Given the numerous cop cars and an influx of neighbors opening their doors to see what’s going on, I am scared, wondering what on Earth could be happening. I am shaking and cold and have snot spread in every direction on my face (I am not a clean crier). Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen police cars. I want to pray but I don’t have words. Fourteen, fifteen…firetruck.

Firetruck!?

IS THAT SANTA CLAUS!!!??????

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” a classic voice shouts from the window, waving to the neighbors.

“Look, Santa,” I hear one of my neighbors call out to her children, urging them to come outside.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty one, twenty two and a… MEGAPHONE?

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!”” kids shout from the megaphone, hands out the backseat window, waving.

Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine mostly smiling police officers, occasionally waving to the crowds on the street.

I am still crying. And shaking. And now smiling and laughing, laughing so hard my stomach feels like it’s doing crunches. Thirty, thirty one, thirty two, thirty three, thirty four, thirty five, thirty six, thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine. I am smiling at the heavens, feeling the steady rain meet my face like long-time old friends embracing one another in an airport. The moment is so… holy… so joyful.

Forty, forty one. Yes, I’m still counting. The cars are still coming, sirens flashing, some sounding, some with smiling officers, others looking just about as confused as myself (especially the police officer driving a Harford County police car… something tells me this county cop has never seen something quite like this before either. There’s a first time for everything :))

Fifty. Sixty. Seventy. I kid you not. I believe the final count was 82 (I was having a hard time keeping track because all my soul wanted to do was look up at the sky, and let my tears and my smile sing praises to the Lord because my mouth and brain could not put together a single word.)

Just when you think you can’t take one more evil, one more injustice in this world, when you feel incapable of dealing with one more fear, ask one more “what if,” face one more worry, drone one more repeated prayer over and over again for the same thing, God will do something. He will do something to sustain you, something to embrace you. He will do something comical like send 82 Christmas-parading cop cars onto your street just to make you smile and laugh in a way that only God could do. He will find a way to make it possible for you to retain hope in your heart, and whisper, “keep going. I. Love. You.” I am wet from rain and tears and all I want to do is dance in the rain, dance in the middle of the street with reckless abandon, arms out open, spinning and singing, and hug each and every neighbor outside, renewed with faith, hope, and love.

But I have snot on my face. Perhaps I should shower before thinking of exchanging hugs.

I draw in one more breath of the surprisingly warm winter air and whisper back to God, “I love you too” and head inside.

“loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, set the oppressed free and break every yoke” ::isaiah 58::

“loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke,
set the oppressed free and break every yoke” ::isaiah 58::