Category Archives: I was wrong

Why I stopped celebrating Reformation Day

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It was a gradual process. To be honest, even during my time in the “Reformed Camp”, even while a member of the OPC (often satirically dubbed the One Perfect Church) and even when some online referred to me as Truly Reformed, I had uneasy feelings about celebrating Martin Luther. I’d read some of his writings in the original German, rather than their sanitized English translations, and — well, let’s say that I would have embarrassed myself and scandalized the conservative families at our church Reformation Day parties if I had quoted some of the more offensive literal translations.

So I kept my opinions of Martin Luther mostly to myself. My poor husband had to listen to my annual spiel of, “They wouldn’t think Martin Luther was so wonderful if they knew what he really wrote!” Probably to his great relief, we weren’t in the Reformed Camp that many years. Once we returned to my Baptist roots, Reformation Day celebrations were a thing of the past.

More years went by, and all sorts of things happened. Long story short, I found myself, most weekdays, praying by myself in a small historic church building in our town. During that time, John 17 began to break my heart. As hard as I tried not to cry on my Bible, there are still tears stains where I would fervently pray Jesus’ prayer for us:

20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22 I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— 23 I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

That prayer didn’t just break my heart. It changed so much of what and how I thought about the Church. It became a guiding principle and a strong motivating factor in the years that followed. And it opened up questions for me… lots and lots of questions…

But, more than anything else — schism became a source of grief, rather than a source of pride. Disunity, I was forced to admit, was contrary to the very will of God.

I was still Protestant at the time, and yet the very idea of the greeting each other with “Happy Reformation Day!” struck me more and more as incomprehensible. If I truly love my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and want Him to be glorified, shouldn’t I view schism and disunity as a cause of mourning rather than celebration?

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Edited to clean up typos, misspellings, and poor wording — and to add this explanation:

OPC = Orthodox Prespbyterian Church. For more info, see here.

Faith Journey | Very Abbreviated Version

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For most of my life I rejected the historic church without even realizing what it was that I was rejecting. Then I came to my senses, decided to look back in history, and traced my theological lineage and beliefs back to my understanding of the Reformation, as if true Christianity got lost quickly after the Resurrection or didn’t exist until Calvin came along and set us all straight. (Only I didn’t really follow Calvin’s teachings but what they had morphed into over the years, stripped of all that would offend our modern Protestant sensibilities.) Then, long story, I left that theological camp and went back to the Baptist world. All seemed wonderful until stuff happened and I got hurt and disgruntled.

So I read a hatchet job of church history, and I found some other disgruntled people to hang out with, and I tried to redefine “Church” to my own liking. I never could quite buy into the idea that two people hanging out at Starbucks, if one of them said something “Christiany”, was what the Bible meant by a “sacred assembly”, but I was almost that far gone.

Along the way, life got messy for awhile, really messy and ugly. Eventually God and I got on much better speaking terms than we had ever been, and I started getting this sense that He was way, way, way more immense and powerful and wonderful than I could ever imagine.

And somehow I realized that He deserved worship that seemed more reverent, sacred, and transcendent than sitting around with a coffee cup — or even than singing along during something that looked and sounded like a secular rock concert with christianized lyrics. It seemed like we should offer Him more than merely what is modern, fleeting, and trendy. Why imitate rock concerts rather than read about how God asked to be worshipped?

So I read about Old Testament worship, and I read the book of Revelation, and I felt like what I’d been doing and thinking was so wrong.

There’s more to my story than that, much much more. But I had to come to grips with the fact that, by ignoring history and tradition, I had basically set myself up as the arbitrator of truth. It was so horribly arrogant of me to think that I and those who agreed with my novel and innovative ideas were right — and 2000 years of far more learned scholars were wrong.

I had put myself out of Catholic tradition, to be sure, but I had also put myself out of Protestant tradition. I was a law unto myself. I was doing what was right in my own eyes.

But instead of crushing me like a bug or whipping sense into my head, God wooed and pursued me with truth, beauty, and goodness. And then He graciously placed in me a hunger for Jesus unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

This convoluted faith journey has taken a a lot of years… a lot of struggle. I’m stubborn at times, and prideful — and prone to wander — and it took immense love (divine and human) to bring me to the point of admitting that maybe I was wrong after all, and the Church was right.

So on Sundays I join with the Saints and Angels in worship, and our worship brings together themes and words from Old Testament through Revelation, and it involves my body and all my senses (as is befitting worship of the Trinity, one member Who became incarnate). It’s truth, beauty and goodness. It feels like a window to Heaven, like we are joining the worship around the Throne. It’s timeless.

But my life is not just transformed on Sundays, nor just the days that I am able to attend Divine Liturgy (or Mass at the local Roman Catholic parish). The Church is so much more than a gathering of people; it’s even more than its Sacraments — I’ve stumbled into a treasure trove of teaching, wisdom, practical help, inspiration, prayer, and much much more. As the book of Hebrews says, I’m “surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses” — and now that I’m finally refusing to ignore them and all that they have contributed to Christendom — my walk with Jesus has been transformed. It’s so much more real. It’s tangible and incarnatonal… and yet transcendent.

Jesus’ words, “Lo I am with you always”, have become so much more alive, so much more real, so much more powerful, that I can taste them.

Some thoughts while “sheltering at home”

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I was wrong.

At first, I thought measures being taken against the spread of the Coronavirus were extremist and bizarre. Then I reviewed some of what I’d learned in a long ago Public Health class about the history of virus diseases and virology. I read some articles being written now by leading epidemiologists, consulted the WHO and CDC websites, and examined some of the resources being compiled by trusted friends in the medical field.

That’s when I had to reconsider things.

I’m the caretaker for my elderly, frail parents. I need to be at their home at least 3 times daily, making sure they get their medications and food. Needless to say, they are not leaving the house. We even cancelled respite care for this week; I decided that a “day off” from my duties is an unnecessary luxury for me and risk for my parents.

I understand that for many, the very idea of staying home and not going to work or socializing is simply too awful to contemplate. I get it. I was already feeling stir crazy before the “shelter in place” order was issued for my county and then my state. No one says this will be easy.

But the rest of this is for my professing Christian readers…

This is the season of Lent. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, this might be a good time to find out. It’s a penitential time leading up to Easter. Many of us use this season to pull away from life’s distractions and addictions in order to focus more on Christ, and especially on the meaning of His Crucifixion. It makes Easter all the more glorious.

We “give up” for Lent in order to gain more of Jesus, in order to experience Him more fully.

Some of my friends, now confined to their homes, have commented that this is the greatest Lent ever, and they are fully embracing this opportunity.

This is not an easy time, by any stretch of the imagination, and I am in no way minimizing the suffering of those who are sick, those who have lost loved ones, those who are without income, those facing the the very real possibility of losing their homes, etc. I’m talking to those of us who, like me, are as of yet unscathed and still can’t figure out why our government is taking such extreme measures.

Use this season. Allow God to use it. Be willing to sacrifice. And please, please stay away from people as much as possible, no matter how people-starved we all might be right now. Let me get personal. You may think you just have allergies, or it’s just a cold, or you may even think you are the healthiest person on the planet. But unless I invite you into my life and home as a necessary presence, or as a family member needing to shelter here, this is not a time for in-person socializing. This is not a time to “drop by”. Please don’t disregard the orders you are under where you live, or the advice of those who know a lot more about pandemics and epidemiology than any of us ever will.

I have two dear parents who need me to be healthy. My husband is in that over-65 vulnerable group. I have asthma too (which, thank God, rarely troubles me these days) and pleurisy-scarred lungs, and I’m not exactly youthful. Pray for my parents. Pray for us. Pray for the many who are like me and like my parents. Pray for the many younger people who, thinking this disease posed no threat to them, are now suffering and even dying.

Use this season and any extra time you may have to seek God’s Presence as never before. Regard this as a spiritual retreat. May this Lent be a time of personal renewal for all of us. May it be a time of breakthrough.

Adapted from something I posted on Facebook earlier today.

Divisive “discerners”

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I used to be one.

But I repented. It finally dawned on me that God had never appointed me to be a member of the doctrine police.

Just this morning I ran across a comment I posted on some blog two years ago. I’ve forgotten the particular blog or the discussion, but I’d saved my comment. Here it is, with slight edits:

In what has come to be called Jesus’ high priestly prayer, offered in the hours leading up to His crucifixion, He prayed, “I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” (John 17:20-21)

We cannot claim to love Jesus Christ if we do not share His heart for unity. Are we truly one with others in the Body of Christ or do we cause the world to sneer at our disunity, disagreements, bickering, and sniping at one another?

God forgive me for the times I have been divisive under the guise of “discernment”!

But, wait — doesn’t God require us to disassociate from brethren who teach what I am convinced are wrong things?

“But actually, I wrote to you not to associate with any so-called brother if he is an immoral person, or covetous, or an idolater, or a reviler, or a drunkard, or a swindler – not even to eat with such a one.” (1 Corinthians 5:11)

Notice what’s missing on the list: teaching or believing theological error or false doctrine.

“But avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, dissensions, and quarrels about the law, for they are unprofitable and worthless. As for a person who stirs up division, after warning him once and then twice, have nothing more to do with him, knowing that such a person is warped and sinful; he is self-condemned.” (Titus 3:9-11)

We are also to avoid those who stir up division with controversies and quarreling over the Word of God, especially the law — because it is warped and sinful to do such a thing! Again, may God forgive me for the times when I was guilty of such terrible behavior, and so far from the mind of Christ that I actually thought I was protecting His Body, rather than attacking it.

“The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you,’ nor again the head to the feet, ‘I have no need of you.’ On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty, which our more presentable parts do not require. But God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.” (1 Corinthians 12:21-26)

Lest you think this applies only to local churches, please be aware that Christ has one Body — one Bride — and not multiple ones.

Although I disagree with a number of things I read on blogs or hear in sermons, it is not for me to judge the salvation of the authors and thus I cannot say, “I have no need of them.” Instead, I must honor them as Christ would have me do — even in the face of disagreements that are probably irreconcilable this side of Heaven.

“I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit — just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call — one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.” (Ephesians 4:1-6)

Why I’m glad that I’m no longer a Calvinist…

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…and some other rambling thoughts about suffering and stumbling.

I wrote this as a comment on a blog a few months ago:

I wish I had the rest of the day to respond to individual posts. As many of you so eloquently and heartbreakingly described, grief and suffering HURTS. Jesus showed us what true compassion and grief looks like when he wept with his friends over the loss of their brother — even though Jesus knew full well he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead. Later, Paul would remind Christians to weep with those who weep, to bear each others’ burdens.

And, you know what? Doing that HURTS — not as much as the actual pain of the one grieving, but it hurts to sit with someone in their pain and totally open your heart, allowing their pain to invade your safe little bubble. It’s scary to admit that we don’t have neat, tidy answers to difficult tragedies. It’s scary to admit similarly devastating blows could strike us as well. So we blame people for their own pain in a self-righteous and desperate attempt to promise ourselves that this same sickness, this same tragedy, will never come near us. And, if it does, we will handle it better. We are made of stronger stuff and better theology, so we will never hurt as much as those other people. That’s what we tell ourselves.

I know. I was that person…until my world exploded about 6 years ago, and years of running from pain and being all “praise God, the past is in the past!” came crashing down on me. Thank God that I had left Calvinists and Calvinism behind before then.

There were no easy answers. I did not heal nicely, or neatly, or tidily. It was messy. I stumbled and fell a lot. I sinned — not by grieving or hurting or being a mess, but by actual sins. I met a ragtag group of beautiful fellow sufferers who showed me what true, loving acceptance looks like. The best thing that eventually came out of the evil that Satan intended for me — and he intends evil for all of us because he is all about killing, stealing, and destroying — is that God showed me that he is a redemptive God. Sin and evil and sickness has no silver lining, but God can redeem the worst thing. And the best way he redeemed all that ugliness in my life, all the pain that came to a head in recent years, is that he revealed himself to me as the perfect, loving Father that I’d never dreamed he could be. It was in relationship with him — and some of his representatives who shared his love — that I have been able to walk out my healing journey. (It has felt like stumbling and even being dragged more than walking at times.)

This longwinded comment is to say that I think when we begin to comprehend the enormity and tenderness of God’s love — especially in the midst of life’s ickyness —when we begin to experience how deeply personal and intimate his love is for us, it makes all the difference. The Calvinist view of God is much safer. It keeps God at a comfortable distance. God up close and personal is beautiful and healing beyond all comprehension, but it’s also overwhelming. After all, this is the God of the universe we’re talking about.

My world has been rocked. My heart has been broken. I’ve lost my taste for nominal Christianity. I have no easy answers. Sometimes all I can do is hug someone, pray for them, and weep. And that hurts, even though compassion is a good hurt, a good heartbreak.

That’s what I was running from when I was a Calvinist. I needed a small, safe, understandable, predictable God who provided security and a safe haven from pain and messiness. What I’ve found now is this huge, wild, mysterious, incomprehensible God who has captured my heart, melted and broken it, healed and tenderized it — and turned my world upside down.

I wish everybody could know that wonderful, amazing, magnificent God.