This past Thursday in Chattanooga could be described as the most surreal of my life. The nurse practitioner student at our clinic reported a shooting at the river park my family frequents often. My first thought was my husband, who will sometimes go for a mid-morning run. Could he have been there? A text confirming that he was fine put that to rest quickly. Then word came in that there were other places in the city where gunfire had broken out and that this was a shooting rampage. The hospitals were on lockdown, my children's daycare was on lockdown. My next worry was could we pick the kids up. More news stories revealed the gruesome details of the day. First, an officer injured, then death (but no known count), then the shooter dead. Four Marines died Thursday and a sailor lost his life 2 days later due to injuries sustained at the scene. By 4pm on Thursday, the name of the gunman started appearing on local and national new sources. And then, the announcement that he lived in a middle-class neighborhood in Hixson, TN. My husband called shortly after that telling me not to take the kids home, our neighborhood was on lockdown and a raid was being conducted about 10 houses down. That's right, my neighbor was a gunman in a crime that is now an international investigation.
I would like to say I felt something when all of this was revealed. But the truth is, I didn't know what to feel. Maybe the first inappropriate thought on my mind was that our house was not likely to sell after this. The next thought was just disgust that my life had been inconvenienced. But as the days have started to separate from the initial numbness and shock of a terror attack that was literally so close to home, I've begun thinking, who is my neighbor and how am I suppose to react in this situation?
I didn't know the family personally. I would say hello or wave as we walked the dog around the cul-de-sac. I knew they were Muslim by their garb but I didn't have any other interaction in the split seconds we were in each others presence. I was asked by reporters if there were any signs or anything weird and I honestly answered that our neighborhood was a quiet and nice one. People were always cordial but other than a select few, I didn't know anyone all that well. So who was my neighbor? I don't know. And who are still my neighbors? That I cannot tell you either.
I am Christ follower and I have also been through a very public family ordeal so as I felt emotions welling up, it took a while to recognize that maybe God had something to say about how I publicly addressed this issue, about how I condemned the killer, but yet how I will learn to be a neighbor to those other people who don't act or look or believe like me. "Love your neighbor, but hate your enemy..." But Lord, what if that person is both? But God says, look at what I sent my son to say about that. Matthew 5:38-48 "It is said 'Eye for an eye, and tooth for a tooth.' But I tell you do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the left one also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your cloak as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go a second with them as well. Give to the one who asks you and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. You have heard 'love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those that persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."
I am not going to say that I know how to do that. I feel like if any sympathy is given to this man's family, people are quick to label it anti-American or claim that I couldn't possibly grieve the soldiers as well. I'm getting really dismayed at the current rhetoric in our country where we have to constantly choose a side and it's always an all or nothing stance. I want to still hope that the family did not know what was going on, and if that's true, how even more devastated they are than the rest of us.
As I drove by the memorial at the Naval Center yesterday, the overwhelming sense of loss hit me. I realized that those 5 servicemen took the same road into work that day, not anticipating it would be their last. They probably had a false sense of security, just as I do everyday, that this is America and things like attacks on military and civilians happen in "other places". And I just cried. I am so devastated that this happen to those neighbors guarding our country. It wasn't fair or just and it could've been me pulling into that park that day.
Isaiah, my oldest son, has been identifying lots of people as his neighbors recently. I don't know when this idea was planted in him, but he's been questioning, "Mom, are they my neighbor?" a lot. Finally, yesterday he boldly stated that we are just all neighbors in this world. Ugh, out of the mouths of babes! Why does Jesus give us such a hard task of loving all. And here my son is reiterating that love in simplest terms. The comments section on any of the recent news stories provides ample proof that we are certainly not doing a very good job of showing the world the command Jesus gives in Matthew 5:38-48. It is so easy to be convicted and righteous on the internet. We never see the other people eye-to-eye, we never engage in a way that builds relationships, we never assume we will be in a similar situation. So words can be used as daggers. But what about when you know someone outside the headlines? What about caring about what happens to them when the camera and news crews have gone on to the next great story? That's when we show our neighbors, enemies, loved ones and friends that there is a God of grace, love, and hope. And we portray that in our lives so that they start to ask, "How do I get some of that?" Jesus never solved a problem by responding in a comments section. He engaged those who needed to hear of grace and love. And he stood by those who weren't considered a good neighbor.
My neighbor is a gunman who heinously killed 5 people in Chattanooga on July 16th, 2015. His actions hurt people across this entire community and country. But if I allow my response to continue the hurt, then nothing in this world will ever change. The news headlines will capture these cowardly acts more and more often, and it becomes the glorification of death. Because if we don't become neighbors who care for and love one another, we have missed the opportunity to share Christ's radical message of love and life. And if that doesn't get transmitted to this weary world, I fear what is to come. This is my call to fill my heart with the message Christ so clearly gives and to live it instead of just write about it. Because there is no telling when someone shares this love, what could change in the hearts of those who get to experience it.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
The Awkward-ness of moving on...
Church is never just a job. While I have the luxury of going home and leaving most of my work at the office, Brad has never been able to separate home/work life. He's not meant to either, because church and spirit and life are suppose to be intertwined. That's why as we embark on this journey of following God's call away from our current beloved church home, I am dreading the thought of saying good-bye.
This church was heaven-sent. Brad was basically a phone call away from leaving the ministry 5 years ago. But we found this little church on a busy thoroughfare in Chattanooga that loved us so well. It helped us bring two babies into existence and then loved them with all that they had. It has given me women and confidantes who have helped me and supported me through the roughest year of my life. We have been encouraged and supported and cared for so abundantly, that the thought of hurting anyone almost paralyzes me and makes me hesitate our next move.
We ARE moving. Our children know and while they don't truly understand what we are leaving behind, they are excited for the next adventure. The awkwardness of this move is that we are so content with where we are that it almost seems ridiculous to leave. But that is where church differs too. When God sends word to you that his spirit is fluid and there are others that you must, "Go and make disciples" of there is a very human instinct to not listen. But we have always erred on the side of God knows what is best and He provides us with opportunities even if we are not looking.
The call to a new church is unlike anything comparable in the business realm. I will tell my co-workers that we are moving and they will be sad and wish me the best in my new position. There will probably be a send-off celebration and all will leave feeling good about the parting. But church is like a family member. They did not see this end of a true relationship coming, so feelings will be hurt and in many ways some will not wish us a fond farewell. I understand this, because we have shared births, deaths, job loss, family catastrophes, celebrations of hope renewed, and we sometimes just clung to each other because we didn't know where else to turn. The part of remaining mum on our calling to another place has been extremely hard, because I like to put all my chips on the table and rationalize all the thoughts, the hours of prayer, the contemplation, and finally the clarity that comes from following God's will for our lives. But it is essential to the process that our current church family know that we are still 100% dedicated and for them even though God has started preparing our hearts for a change, so the silence of our decision making remained intact.
There is a paradox of feelings: sadness for the comfort and safety of leaving our present church family behind and the excitement of what is to come, dreading the good-byes while welcoming new hellos, preparation to leave the only home my two boys can remember and the search for a new place. It is hard to feel like I have the right to be excited about this because there is so much of what we hold as truths right now that will be missing from a new place. Yet God is present in all of this. His love for his people knows no boundaries and we live in this crazy world of Facebook, Skype, and air travel that make seeing those we live far from more easy.
The decision to move to Chattanooga was easy. We were having a child and our family was here. We would be close to Nashville and we were beyond excited to be in the same city as Brad's brother, sister-in-law and nephew. That is the hardest part about this next step. We will be moving to a place where, once again, no family lives. We don't have the security of calling at a moments notice and having Mohm show up to take care of the grandkids. We cannot call up our nephew for a play date the next night. This part breaks my heart because I cherish the closeness of family so much. I want my kids to know they are not just house guests on a whirlwind trip to the relatives. I pray that their bonds with their cousin, aunt, uncle, and grandparents grows stronger than ever. But I know nothing is guaranteed, and we are determined to try our hardest to preserve those relationships and are making a point to prioritize traveling back to visit family, both mine and the McDowells.
I want people to know that it is okay to feel hurt and betrayed. I want them to understand that this was a prayerful, unexpected decision on our part. I never want anyone for one second to think that we were disgruntled or were searching for "something better". The truth is ministry doesn't usually allow a minister to just get a job across town (I know there are some examples where this does happen). Ministry usually means a major upheaval in the congregation and in the minister's family's lives. Everyone is left with a sense of uneasiness as the thought of pulpit committees and interims weigh heavy on the those who have loved other ministers and seen them move on know wholeheartedly. My hope in all these feelings of excitement, hurt, anxiety, love, is that each step is touched by God's presence. I pray that our current church knows what a gem they are and that they realize what a saving grace they were to us. They were the mother that bandaged some pretty significant wounds and helped us flourish into competent teens. And much like a teenager leaving home for college, we are on edge about the next step, but pretty sure a leap of faith is necessary.
The awkwardness of this situation has prompted complete trust in God, constant praying for those who this news will jolt and those who are waiting for us to come, and trusting that in the end we will leave being better people than the ones who came together five years ago. My excitement is to see God's kingdom being woven across all these miles that we have already traveled on our path and I know that one day, as we join together in Heaven, we can look back and say, we were God's kingdom together on Earth.
This church was heaven-sent. Brad was basically a phone call away from leaving the ministry 5 years ago. But we found this little church on a busy thoroughfare in Chattanooga that loved us so well. It helped us bring two babies into existence and then loved them with all that they had. It has given me women and confidantes who have helped me and supported me through the roughest year of my life. We have been encouraged and supported and cared for so abundantly, that the thought of hurting anyone almost paralyzes me and makes me hesitate our next move.
We ARE moving. Our children know and while they don't truly understand what we are leaving behind, they are excited for the next adventure. The awkwardness of this move is that we are so content with where we are that it almost seems ridiculous to leave. But that is where church differs too. When God sends word to you that his spirit is fluid and there are others that you must, "Go and make disciples" of there is a very human instinct to not listen. But we have always erred on the side of God knows what is best and He provides us with opportunities even if we are not looking.
The call to a new church is unlike anything comparable in the business realm. I will tell my co-workers that we are moving and they will be sad and wish me the best in my new position. There will probably be a send-off celebration and all will leave feeling good about the parting. But church is like a family member. They did not see this end of a true relationship coming, so feelings will be hurt and in many ways some will not wish us a fond farewell. I understand this, because we have shared births, deaths, job loss, family catastrophes, celebrations of hope renewed, and we sometimes just clung to each other because we didn't know where else to turn. The part of remaining mum on our calling to another place has been extremely hard, because I like to put all my chips on the table and rationalize all the thoughts, the hours of prayer, the contemplation, and finally the clarity that comes from following God's will for our lives. But it is essential to the process that our current church family know that we are still 100% dedicated and for them even though God has started preparing our hearts for a change, so the silence of our decision making remained intact.
There is a paradox of feelings: sadness for the comfort and safety of leaving our present church family behind and the excitement of what is to come, dreading the good-byes while welcoming new hellos, preparation to leave the only home my two boys can remember and the search for a new place. It is hard to feel like I have the right to be excited about this because there is so much of what we hold as truths right now that will be missing from a new place. Yet God is present in all of this. His love for his people knows no boundaries and we live in this crazy world of Facebook, Skype, and air travel that make seeing those we live far from more easy.
The decision to move to Chattanooga was easy. We were having a child and our family was here. We would be close to Nashville and we were beyond excited to be in the same city as Brad's brother, sister-in-law and nephew. That is the hardest part about this next step. We will be moving to a place where, once again, no family lives. We don't have the security of calling at a moments notice and having Mohm show up to take care of the grandkids. We cannot call up our nephew for a play date the next night. This part breaks my heart because I cherish the closeness of family so much. I want my kids to know they are not just house guests on a whirlwind trip to the relatives. I pray that their bonds with their cousin, aunt, uncle, and grandparents grows stronger than ever. But I know nothing is guaranteed, and we are determined to try our hardest to preserve those relationships and are making a point to prioritize traveling back to visit family, both mine and the McDowells.
I want people to know that it is okay to feel hurt and betrayed. I want them to understand that this was a prayerful, unexpected decision on our part. I never want anyone for one second to think that we were disgruntled or were searching for "something better". The truth is ministry doesn't usually allow a minister to just get a job across town (I know there are some examples where this does happen). Ministry usually means a major upheaval in the congregation and in the minister's family's lives. Everyone is left with a sense of uneasiness as the thought of pulpit committees and interims weigh heavy on the those who have loved other ministers and seen them move on know wholeheartedly. My hope in all these feelings of excitement, hurt, anxiety, love, is that each step is touched by God's presence. I pray that our current church knows what a gem they are and that they realize what a saving grace they were to us. They were the mother that bandaged some pretty significant wounds and helped us flourish into competent teens. And much like a teenager leaving home for college, we are on edge about the next step, but pretty sure a leap of faith is necessary.
The awkwardness of this situation has prompted complete trust in God, constant praying for those who this news will jolt and those who are waiting for us to come, and trusting that in the end we will leave being better people than the ones who came together five years ago. My excitement is to see God's kingdom being woven across all these miles that we have already traveled on our path and I know that one day, as we join together in Heaven, we can look back and say, we were God's kingdom together on Earth.
True Religion
I'm exhausted this morning! I'm ecstatic this morning! And those two competing feelings have been served via the wonderful National Championship stage thanks to Duke. Being a Duke fan is like being a Yankees fan, where there are the die-hards but there is a large number of haters. Kentucky fans hate us, UNC fans most definitely hate us, and just about anyone who likes the underdog hates us. But having been a part of this dynasty-of-a-program's fanbase and actually being a student of the school, I can tell you, there's is nothing that we wouldn't do during the months of November until (hopefully) the first week of April for this team.
Having spent a good portion of my adult life in and around religion, I am making the bold claim that Duke basketball is a religion. I say this because I have seen people forsake all their comforts and time to devout themselves to an end goal...being present during the pinnacle of sporting rivalries...the Duke/UNC game in Cameron Indoor Stadium. I am not the first to make this comparison. While at Duke and an active participant in the InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, our staff worker shared that he believed the basketball fans practiced one of the purest and greatest examples of true religion. We had utter devotion to the cause. Sub-freezing temperatures were no reason to not be in the tents and potentially get booted out of line. We had elaborate spreadsheets that assured every second of the day was covered by a tent member. We smelled funny, we looked ragged, and perhaps some of us had to choose, good grades or a great seat to the game.
We didn't care what the rest of the world or even our fellow students thought of us because we had our eyes on the prize, the glory to come was worth the pain and toil of all the time and energy we had to expend to get into the game! We were devout, we were loyal and we were excited all the time. It was a religion in a refined form, but we worshipped the ground labeled Krzyzweskiville. And if we got to sit at the foot of Coach K, well, we had our go-to story to tell the generations to come, if not to embellish a bit.
What I cannot seem to articulate is the energy and the feeling of being part of this amazing experience. It's hard to tell an outsider about all the benefit from basically denying ourselves our usual luxuries to "rough it" for a month and a half so that we can partake in a two-hour game. It all seemed worth it, it all was amazing. Sometimes I wish religious organizations were similar and sometime they are. But today, I'm not going to go into all the fantastic analogies of a sports idol and the church. No, today I'm going to celebrate that I have been able to enjoy this amazing sign of togetherness and "in it for the common good"-ness and mark this 5th national championship as something that fills my soul with joy and memories from other celebrations like it. And I'm also glad that I know that same joy in my "true religion" too. Go DUKE!!!!
Having spent a good portion of my adult life in and around religion, I am making the bold claim that Duke basketball is a religion. I say this because I have seen people forsake all their comforts and time to devout themselves to an end goal...being present during the pinnacle of sporting rivalries...the Duke/UNC game in Cameron Indoor Stadium. I am not the first to make this comparison. While at Duke and an active participant in the InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, our staff worker shared that he believed the basketball fans practiced one of the purest and greatest examples of true religion. We had utter devotion to the cause. Sub-freezing temperatures were no reason to not be in the tents and potentially get booted out of line. We had elaborate spreadsheets that assured every second of the day was covered by a tent member. We smelled funny, we looked ragged, and perhaps some of us had to choose, good grades or a great seat to the game.
We didn't care what the rest of the world or even our fellow students thought of us because we had our eyes on the prize, the glory to come was worth the pain and toil of all the time and energy we had to expend to get into the game! We were devout, we were loyal and we were excited all the time. It was a religion in a refined form, but we worshipped the ground labeled Krzyzweskiville. And if we got to sit at the foot of Coach K, well, we had our go-to story to tell the generations to come, if not to embellish a bit.
What I cannot seem to articulate is the energy and the feeling of being part of this amazing experience. It's hard to tell an outsider about all the benefit from basically denying ourselves our usual luxuries to "rough it" for a month and a half so that we can partake in a two-hour game. It all seemed worth it, it all was amazing. Sometimes I wish religious organizations were similar and sometime they are. But today, I'm not going to go into all the fantastic analogies of a sports idol and the church. No, today I'm going to celebrate that I have been able to enjoy this amazing sign of togetherness and "in it for the common good"-ness and mark this 5th national championship as something that fills my soul with joy and memories from other celebrations like it. And I'm also glad that I know that same joy in my "true religion" too. Go DUKE!!!!
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