All this "Mayhem" in the blogs lately reminds me of an essay I wrote in October. (Since I finally learned how to link, I feel compelled to do so whenever possible...) I am often amazed by how different certain experiences are to my own. The reverse is also true: I always love when we see commonalities among the voices, despite how incredibly different we all are. It's like harmony. Music. (And sometimes noisy...)

I grew up in a house where certain more sordid American experiences simply did not occur, and in a community which for the most part reinforced what I learned in my home. Racism was never tolerated. Ever. My community was multi-cultural, multi-racial. We loved without exception. We judged people by the content of a person's character (and still do, I hope). My little church was also multi-cultural. (unfortunately with this link, you need to scroll down to the September 22 post -- still so much to learn, heavy sigh.) I believed that certain forms of bias and prejudice were prevalent "some place else" or in "some other time".

I never knew that it required great effort for me to see the world this way. My parents didn't allow certain points of view in our home. Not that people didn't have those points of view -- they just weren't allowed to express them in our home. I never ever felt that I could not acheive whatever I set my mind to acheive. I could do anything through Christ who strengthened me. Anything. I shared my religious beliefs with many people, and they shared theirs with me. I accepted that people worship God in a manner that was comfortable to them: Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, Presbyterian -- all different but the same. I knew as much about the Jewish traditions as I did my own. I went to Temple with a multitude of friends for Bat Mitzvah, Bar Mitzvah, Shivah. God is God. El Shaddai. El Adonai. And I aways understood that Jesus was bigger than our small understanding. He was the way and the truth and the light. He could overcome the differences and lead people to himself. He died for them. We just needed to take him with us everywhere we go. He could handle the rest. After all, some things are true whether you believe them or not...(i love that line -- 'city of angels'). He would work out the details. They weren't my worry.

My parents led the Youth Group (and the choir) in our church for a long time. Eventually another family took it over. (We were very small -- there weren't any special pastors for children's ministry -- parents volunteered.) For the most part, it was always good. I had awesome experiences, great memories. It was with this group I went to the Franciscan Friary for work retreats and met the Cloistered Sisters of the neighboring convent. We had outings, Sunday School, sleep overs. There weren't that many of us. We really got to know each other. It was good.

Sometime after I became a teenager, a new parent took over our youth group. Not a family, I don't think, a single Dad (?). (I know he didn't like having his wife around, but I think he was married...?). Perhaps he didn't think it was biblical for his wife to help in leadership. (Now, I have some opinions about this today. When you marry, 2 are supposed to become 1. It's like plumbing -- one cold water pipe plus one hot water pipe = one warm shower. If one pipe is restricted, your shower will be too hot or too cold...you get the analogy...) This guy was definitely too cold. (don't go jumping to the verse about being hot or cold and if you're luke warm you'll get spit out -- I'm talking shower here, not drinking water...) He gave us an assignment (the cold water guy) to bring in something that inspired us. I chose an excerp from Henry David Thoreau's "On Walden Pond".

He rejected my piece loudly and sarchastically. "This is unacceptable -- the man is an atheist!" he mocked. "And so..?" "I told you to bring in something inspirational" "If the words inspire me to connect to God, then they are inspirational," I argued. "He clearly defines his journey, and the path is leading toward God -- He finds comfort in God's creation -- and so do I!" It is at this point that an older, wiser person would have realized that there would be no talking to this man. He couldn't hear what I had to say. He couldn't listen to the words. He had an agenda. I was outspoken, rude (in his opinion) and female. How dare I speak out at him in this manner. They wrote bible verses about people like me. "This is the bus we're on," he finally stated, "You're either with us or against us."

Wow. Splash that cold water in my face. Clearly all my education and good upbringing didn't prepare me for ignorance. Nothing can prepare you for that. "Then I'm against you, " I shrugged, comforted by the knowledge that I was right and he was wrong. You couldn't pay me to get on a bus with him.

But my legs sure get tired from all the walking.

A great friend once told me that if everyone sharing my point of view got off the bus, there would be nobody on the bus like me. I see the truth in this. Some things are worth the fight. Think of Rosa Parks -- It required way more courage to stay seated than it would have taken to get up and get off. But this is the sad truth about me: I'm a get up and get off kind of girl. Some arguments are just not worth my time. I've heard it said you can't argue with a drunk -- well I'd take drunkenness over ignorance any time. At least the drunk will sober up eventually...

And all this about busses. I don't think we're supposed to be on any bus. I think we're supposed to be walking. (...walkin' down freedom road...) How can you meet anybody if you're always cooped up in a bus?

God has the last laugh in all of this, (as God always will). If you flash forward quite a few years, I am now married to The Man from Iowa. (Imagine how his family shudders at the thought of that pure corn fed white boy in the hands of the New Yorker. Well, trust me, my family shuddered too..."Cornell Graduate from NYC to wed Enlisted Marine from Iowa farm town". "NY Liberal to marry Redneck". "CIA Protestor marries Marine".)

My family overlooked their preconceptions and accepted my husband without hesitation, as is their way. And they love him like their own. I can't really speak for his family. I think they love me, too. Against all odds. More amazing is that I love them -- and trust me it hasn't been easy for any of us.

Did you ever see the movie "Footloose" with Kevin Bacon? I thought it was a work of pure fiction. In my ignorance, I never believed for a second that life went on like it did in that town. Imagine my surprise. There is a world of people who keep track of sins like on a grocery list. They make their home a fall-out shelter and keep all the bad stuff out. They are so busy adhering to all the rules that they don't have time to live. And here is the thing that is the most surprising to me: Despite all that effort and energy they do not feel any more assured of the hope of heaven. Not really. Because if you miss something, one bad thing, one speck of dust -- the fall-out of sinfulness will get in and you will perish from the exposure to the radiation.

Seems to me you've already perished when you live this way.

You see, no matter how much effort you put into controlling stuff, (the world around you, people's thoughts and actions, culture) the outside always gets in. You can't stop it any more than you can stop air. My parents couldn't protect me from ignorance -- they could only teach me about it and send me out into it. You can't protect yourself from sin -- it's not outside of you, it's IN YOU. You can only recognize it and hand it to Jesus, one minute to the next. Jesus said, "For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what make a man unclean;" (Matt 15). Take a lesson from Jesus, who didn't ask the permission of men to do God's will, but acted in the authority of his father in heaven. He didn't do it by their rules. (And boy were they tweaked). "Thus you nullify the word of God for the sake of your tradition. You hypocrites! Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you: 'These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are but rules taught by men.'" (Jesus said that -- I love that guy!)

You know something? I went to Walden Pond eventually, still inspired by Henry David Thoreau. Often, actually. I lived "down the road" for a time (route 128). I prayed there. In fact, it was near here that I re-committed my life to Christ in a new way: Framingham Vineyard, Framingham, Mass. (Thanks for the connection, Lord. I'd forgotten.) Do you see that? Do you see how He did that? God used the words of an atheist to draw nearer to me, a sinner. Maybe those words were originally inspired in Thoreau to draw him closer, too. I hope he recognized his Creator eventually. (I really don't know if he did or not -- the writer didn't interest me as much as his words...I am curious now...) This truth in my life, my Walden Pond experience, is evidence of God's love for me. He desired me. He wooed me, in the same way a guy takes a girl to a chick flick -- it's what she wants to see, and he just wants to be with her. How cool is that? God wanted me. Still wants me. He wants you, too.

++ Thank you that you wanted me, Jesus. Just as I was. Just as I am. Naive. Outspoken. Female. Me.

I want You, too. Always. It's okay if I have to walk. I'll never walk alone.