Unpacking

Last night I had the experience of doing something I had never done before. I had to unpack my suitcase from a trip I never took. Let me explain....

Last Friday my grandmother passed away. I packed up my suitcase, my car, and even my cat Spencer's carrier, prepared to make the trek to Ohio. But, Saturday evening I came down with a pretty awful case of the flu. After very little sleep and muscles that ached, I soon realized that a trip to Ohio was not in the cards. So, after getting over the illness, I finally had the energy, and time, to unpack my suitcase last night.

I must admit, it was an odd experience. Normally when you unpack from a trip, the items you remove have some sort of new memory attached to them. Maybe you look at the sweater you were wearing when you went to dinner with the family. Maybe your mom snuck some goodies into your bag and as you pull them out you are reminded of her kindness. Or, maybe you simply unpack the dirty laundry and are jolted back to life in the real world. No matter the item, it is undeniable that our suitcases are packed with memories when we return from trips.

But a trip I never took...that was a different story. Because, you see, as I unpacked my suitcase, I was struck with the realization that this is what worry oftentimes looks like. Worry can be compared to us "packing our things" for a trip that will never happen. Worry causes us to pack our lives full of fear, of anxiety, of all of the "What If's" that life has to offer. But, by God's goodness, so often we never have to take those things down the road. We find ourselves "unpacking" the worry, because it never had to be realized. We never had to go to the dark place towards which we expected to travel. 

So what does any of this mean? Well, I have a new plan for tackling worry. Every time I sense myself beginning to worry, about the future, about the economy, about health, about my career, about anything, I am going to picture that suitcase...the one that sits in the corner, full of worry, yet never has to leave the house. And, my hope is that as I grow in the realization that God, not my worry, is in control, I will be able to stop packing that suitcase, and simply start enjoying the journey.

A New Command.....

So, I had an interesting experience this week. On Monday, Labor Day, I was in my house getting ready to eat dinner when I received a knock at my front door. Being the cautious girl I am, I took a look through the peephole, and saw it was one of my neighbors. So, I proceeded to open the door, thinking this was perhaps just a simple neighborly "hello" kind of visit.


Boy, was I mistaken! In a period of less than three minutes my neighbor blasted me out over a ridiculous issue, and had made me feel less like a human being and more like a hungry termite who was so despicable that I was ruining the very foundations upon which our humble Wilmington community sits.


Over what? What did I do that was so awful? Are you ready?......I gave an outdoor stray cat a home. Yeah, I won't go into the details, but let's just say she believes that keeping cats indoors is against nature and that I was robbing this poor animal of his life. It's funny, though, because I always thought that cars, foxes and mean neighborhood bullies were the primary destroyers of the well-being of animals.


At first, as you can imagine, I was absolutely furious! How dare she come knock on my door, yell at me and expect me to do anything other than slam the door in her face?! But after a good night's sleep and a few days of reflection, I have now been faced with the big question: How do I respond to her now? I do not mean, how do I respond about the cat -- after all, that was five days ago. I mean, how do I respond to her when I see her outside, when she needs help getting some groceries out of her car, when our cars pass each other in the parking lot?


Once I do as much thinking as I can, I usually finally find myself seeking the One whom I should have sought from the outset -- Christ. What would he say? How would he respond to this woman? We all know Jesus went to the cross. He literally allowed people to beat him and kill him. But, I'm not Jesus. I don't dare follow his literal example, right? Doesn't that get me off the hook?


Unfortunately, when I read his words, I realize that it's not necessarily about following his actions, but it is about following his command. In Mark 12:31, Jesus tells us that the second greatest commandment under the law is to "Love your neighbor as yourself." Okay, I get it, so I should love her just as much as I love myself. But, that sets up a condition for my love, doesn't it? You see, there are moments where I do not love myself nearly as much as I should. In fact, there are times I downright despise who I see in the mirror. So, again, I'm off the hook -- I don't have to love this "neighbor" of mine very much at all.


Oops, that was under the law. Now, we are under Christ. And in John 13:34 Jesus gives us a "new command": "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." Rats! 


"As I have loved you....." Christ has loved me beyond anything I could ever deserve. People have time and again hurt me, and let me down. People have told me they love me with one breath, while packing their bags to leave with the next. People have betrayed my trust. I have even betrayed myself. But Christ, he has loved me with a perfect and unending love, a love that has been present even when my faith was not.


So what does all this mean?  I can guarantee you that I will fall miserably short of this command when it comes to loving my neighbor. Sure, I can fake it. I can smile, and wave to her when I see her. I can even help her with those groceries (and pat myself on the back the whole time). But, can I truly love her with a love that is sacrificial, a love that endures despite the insults being hurled at me? The answer is "no." 


But, can the Spirit love her through me? We'll have to wait and see........

Natural Love

Okay, so,  go with me on this.....I need you to watch this video before you read any further. (It's only a minute long).

You may be wondering if this is just a clever ploy by the crazy cat lady to push the "cats are so cute, everyone should love them" agenda. While I am always delighted when I can convert someone over into the "cat person" category, I actually do have somewhat of a theological offering to make that was inspired by this video, and well, cats in general.

You see, it all comes down to natural love. I know, I know, some of you are out there thinking, "This mother does not 'love' her kitten. She is simply running on the instinct to protect by nestling her young." If you choose to live in a world that attributes all actions as reactions, then I suppose that is your prerogative. I, on the other hand, choose to live and believe in a world whose very lungs breathe in and out for the sole purpose of displaying the imago dei, the image of God, in every piece of its majestic and complex beauty.

I see in this video a mother cat who has been provided with the natural instincts needed to care for this kitten. I see one cat out of a million that was created by God, and given by her Creator all the tools necessary to care for her offspring.

I had the privilege of experiencing this first-hand last summer. On May 13, 2010, my cat Adeline, a stray at the time, gave birth to five kittens, literally in front of my eyes. I was amazed at how she instinctively knew exactly what to do to care for them. Two of the kittens did not survive (I will not tell you what she did with them....if you want to know, Google "do mother cats eat their babies"....).  But for the three that did survive, Addie became a "Super Mom." She allowed them to nurse, constantly, even though she was still sore from the labor process. She allowed them to climb all over her, to play with her tail, to chew on her ears, all because she somehow knew that this was their training for life. But more importantly, she taught them how to eat, and led them to the water bowl, even though she knew that this meant that they would soon no longer depend on her for their very lives.

After four months, I found a great home for two of the kittens, and I kept one of them, Melle. She is now a year old, yet she and Addie are still just like mamma and daughter. They sleep together, they eat together, they play together. The "mother instinct" did not leave Addie simply because Melle grew up. Rather, it has only grown stronger as the two of them enjoy life together.  I do not believe that is instinct. No, I believe that is what we would call natural (maybe even divinely-inspired?) love.

I have lived with two or more (usually more) cats consistently over the past thirteen years of my life. And in all honesty, they have taught me just as much about God's love for me as any sermon heard, scripture read, song sung or hug offered. All of my cats are my "favorites," and in discovering that I have come to realize that God also has billions of "favorites." Sometimes they hurt me, when they are disobedient or play too rough. Yet I still love them as though the scratch marks on my arms did not exist. Just the same, God continues to love me, even when I disobey, consequently hurting myself and God. This love does not end because it cannot end. God and I are inextricably bound together for all eternity, no matter what I may do.

Yes, I will admit, some of this is sort of corny. But I wanted to express it in writing, because it can serve as such a strong reminder for all of us that God's love permeates the world, from the smallest of flowers that God clothes in splendor, to the hug of a mother cat that will melt even the hardest of hearts. If God's stamp of love is on these things, how much more does God desire for us to accept the stamp of love that is placed in our lives in the person and work of the Holy Spirit?

God is always working to draw us into the divine heart. The question is, will you allow God to wrap you in the arms of mercy and grace that are open to all, and are you willing to open your eyes to see God's love working  in the world around you?

It's Just Me....

I’ll confess -- I’m finding myself somewhat disheartened the further into May the calendar travels. I was so looking forward to Easter, and it did not disappoint. Celebration and reminders of resurrection sprung a hope in me that has been absent for quite some time now. My soul felt renewed and I was ready for God to reinvent me once more. But, I find that I am human. And like most humans, my experiences of celebration quickly give way to the realities of defeat and despair.

I have wondered why this is, and while I can make some guesses, I think that it most likely results from reading about the heroes of the early church, then comparing my own story to theirs (in case you’re wondering, there is no comparison). You see, I do not anticipate tongues of fire descending on anyone anytime soon. I am fairly certain that no sermon of mine will lead 3,000 people to faith in Christ. I do not have plans to heal a lame man as I walk through my day. As far as I know, God will not speak to me from heaven, blinding me for unbelief (although of all the scenarios listed that may be the most likely).

But if I skip ahead through church history, I find characters that look even less like I do. Julian of Norwich, Gregory of Nyssa, Martin Luther, Dietrich Bonhoeffer......

I’m just Stefanie. Born in the 1970’s in the Midwest. Red hair, blue eyes, freckled face. I eat pizza and like to play Nintendo Wii and am known by most as a "crazy cat lady."  Last time I checked, I have not had any mystical visions, written any treatises, transformed any churches, or risked anything for Christ.

Even after Easter, I am just Stefanie.

Instead of reading about the heroes of the faith, I would like to read about the failures. That is a list of which I would feel much more comfortable aligning myself. I want to know there are others who have had their lives shattered, and blamed God for it. I want to know there are good, godly people who have had their hearts broken and lost all hope. I want to know that there are believers who love God but cannot seem to let him have full control over their futures. Most often I connect better with the Peter of denial than the Peter of boldness. Sometimes I connect better with the depression of Martin Luther than with the passion he held for the justifying power of God found in Scripture. I almost always connect better with the doubt in Dietrich Bonhoeffer than with his trust in God’s grace.

I want to know there are others like me. And I want to know that we can get through anything life throws our way, because God will walk with us, despite our doubt, our fear, our anger. God loves us, despite the messes we make of our lives.

I supposed this is the faith that these “heroes” of ours possessed as well, although for the most part we hear only of their successes, and not of their failures. I cannot help but wonder, at any time, did they say, “I am just.....”? Or did they always know they were made to play some special role in the Kingdom of God?

I do not know what my future holds. I do not know of the struggles and joys that lay ahead. There are sure to be wounds that need healing, but I hope there are also smiles that cannot be contained. But my ultimate trust is that although I am “just Stefanie,” I serve a God whose power far exceeds my abilities. I serve a God whose plan for my future is much richer than any I could concoct with a recipe of my own desires. I serve a God whose salve will bring a sustained healing that cannot be achieved by means this fleshly state utilizes.

I trust that God deeply loves Stefanie.....and that is where the label of “just” is stripped away and the eternal branding of “beloved” is placed.

God Loves Osama bin Laden

Okay, so I know right off the bat this is going to bother some people. Since Jesus bothered a lot of people by loving those who were unpopular, I'm assuming I'm in good company when I say that God loves Osama bin Laden.


Before I go much further, let me be clear. This is not meant to be political commentary, nor a statement on the U.S. or our military. It is also not meant to show any disrespect for those who lost a loved one on September 11, 2001 (I cannot even imagine your pain). No, this blog is about my response to the news of bin Laden's death in light of my relationship to a loving and life-giving God.


In all honesty, I have struggled with my feelings over the past few days. My human sense of justice and patriotism has tempted me to think: "Yes, we got him! That's what he gets! Don't mess with the U.S." But my divine sense of God's love has prompted me to think quite the opposite: "Does God ever rejoice over a violent death? Does one death eliminate the sadness of the mass executions of September 11, 2001?"


I do not have an answer for how to balance these conflicting thoughts. But as I was driving earlier today, I was reminded that "God loves Osama bin Laden." My self-righteous indignation causes this thought to make my stomach churn, and I get the same feeling as when I see Michael Vick take the football field, making millions of dollars, despite the horrible cruelty he imposed on God's most innocent of creatures. But like it or not, "God loves Osama bin Laden....and Michael Vick, too."


I began to think about what bin Laden's life has been, and particularly, how it may have begun. Well, to take it all the way back, his life started the same way as mine. As an infant, brought into this word pure and innocent. At some point bin Laden began eating solid foods, crawled, learned how to walk, said his first words, began playing with blocks (or some equivalent). Sound familiar? When he was five years old, and began to be able to think more critically about life, do you imagine his thoughts were turned towards destruction, hatred, evil and death? I might venture to say his thoughts were similar to any 5-year-old in America. He may have looked up at the sky as planes flew overhead and dreamed about flying. He may have kicked a soccer ball with his siblings and thought about life as a professional athlete (most young boys do at some point).


But eventually, something happened to this boy. Hatred was poured into his life, and he absorbed it as a willing recipient. I do not know for sure when this happened, or why this happened. But I do believe that hatred fills our lives when there is a void -- a void of love. Somewhere along the way, bin Laden's understanding of love, from God and from others, became warped. And then it seemed to altogether disappear.


1 John 4:18 tells us that the opposite of love is fear -- dare I say, terror. ("There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.") Somewhere in his life, bin Laden made a choice to embrace fear instead of love. And it has resulted in decades of devastation to families all over the globe.


I would propose that our anger at Osama bin Laden does not have to be mutually exclusive from an authentic love for him as a creation of the Almighty God. But if we allow this anger to become a vehicle by which we instill fear into ourselves or others, we are then walking a line that I believe causes us to stray from God's love instead of towards it.


I live in the real world. I live in a world where true evil exists and where governments do their best to protect their people. Violence and war are sometimes necessary in the cause of bringing liberation to the oppressed, and although I long for the day when all enemies bow the knee together under the throne of the Sovereign King, I also know that day is not today. But I also caution myself against dancing in the streets over the death of a human being, no matter how vile he may be. For I know that my sins are just as deadly as his sins. 


I normally end my writings with a strong conclusion and mighty resolution. To do so today would be hypocritical, as I struggle to balance human justice with God's love, my own safety with the value of one human life.....

The Hard Work of Transformation

Easter happened. About two thousand years ago. Easter happened. Five days ago. How has the world changed? How have I changed?

Sunday was both a wonderful and bitter day for me. Wonderful because I was able to put on a cute purple dress and go to a job which I believe to be crafted specifically for me and my enjoyment. I was able to laugh with friends, exchange hugs with church members and smile at visitors. Our worship services were majestically beautiful, not because of our own crafting, but because the presence of God filled our sanctuary, and our hearts, in a way that broke through the pain and suffering of the outside world.

Bitter because Sunday was the day our beloved pastor of 25 years said goodbye. A much-deserved retirement, leaving us with a much-felt emptiness that seems to be engulfing itself within an even deeper void.

But whether wonderful or bitter, Easter happened. Jesus was resurrected from the dead, was transformed, and lives today to show us that we too can be made new and created into the people we were intended to be.

Transformation -- well, that's where the hard work begins. You see, transformation rarely, if ever, occurs during the "good" days of life. Rather, as with Jesus, transformation occurs after our lives have been destroyed. Before we are made new, we must first die. Our hearts are
  shattered when those who claim to love us on Palm Sunday shout "Crucify!" on Friday. Our emotions are numbed when we experience betrayal that is beyond any pain we thought imaginable. Our spirits are broken as doubt appears to threaten our faith and we see the storm clouds of the unknown forming in the distance.

When we are destroyed, struck down, transformation is hardly the goal towards which we direct our thoughts. When we are lying in the dark tombs of life, our thoughts tend to be wrapped around our pain, our uncertainty, our anger and fear. The biggest question that tends to fill our minds is this: "Will I ever feel 'ok' again?"

Be encouraged! This question has the potential to lead us towards transformation! This is the question that tells us that in these moments life is not what it should be, and that life is crying out to be transformed! The most beautiful part of this is that transformation does not occur because we rise up, dust ourselves off, put on a stern face of resolve and move forward with life. Rather, transformation occurs as we sob, broken heart in hand, and cry out to God as we offer our shattered life to God's transforming work. Transformation occurs when we release our tears, abdicate the throne we think we deserve as kings and queens of life, and allow the truth and freedom of Christ to rule in our hearts.

A common, yet still powerful, metaphor for transformation is that of the butterfly. We all learn that a caterpillar   locks himself into his cocoon, says goodbye to the world  he has known, and disappears into that cocoon, blocking himself off from the effects of the outside world. When he emerges, he is beautiful, unrecognizable. But I can imagine that if we were to get close enough to the caterpillar, and close enough to the butterfly, we might recognize the glimmer in his eyes. This creature is still the same creature, still the same soul, yet has been transformed into his ultimate state of being, the one with gorgeous colors, widespread wings that will allow him to fly into places that were once unaccessible to his short legs and tiny flightless form.

But do not forget, the caterpillar does nothing in the process of transformation, other than yield himself to it. Fearlessly, he enters that cocoon, trusting that his Creator will provide the means for emergence as a new creation that is more beautiful and free than the caterpillar could ever be by his own doing.

Easter really happened. Easter continues to happen because Easter, the Risen Christ, is the proof that by God's power we can all be transformed, and made new. Our wounds can be healed and life can be restored. Do not fight the moments of destruction, because they come regardless of our endless struggle for happiness. Rather, when our hearts, emotions and spirits have been laid to rest by the cruel cries of punishment shouted by the world, we lay ourselves down, rest in the loving arms of God, and allow the power of the Holy Spirit to create in us new and beautiful creations, limitless in freedom, limitless in love.

And he calls me daughter.....

Mark 5:35 -- "He (Jesus) said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.'”

Daughter....yesterday morning, in the midst of the Scripture reading in worship, that one word struck my heart in a way akin to the shocking spray of cold water to the skin that is burning on a hot summer's day. The word washed over me in relief, but also stung my parched heart. 

Daughter...how I long to hear Christ call me Daughter. I have heard him call my name....Stefanie.....In those moments, when he identifies me, when he calls me, I know that I am known by him. I know that I am on his mind, and in his heart.

Daughter...this word adds another dimension. I am on God's mind and in God's heart. But this word also brings me into God's family. This word makes me believe that I am more than just known....I am loved. This word reminds me that God cares for me, as one who comes from the Divine DNA.

Daughter...given good gifts from the Father. Given only good things. Given the egg, and not the scorpion. So often I cry for the scorpion, I want the scorpion, and when I am given the egg, I protest. Like a rebellious teenager, I cry, I pout, I scream, and I accuse God of forgetting me.

Daughter...this woman in Mark was suffering from a chronic illness. Desperate, she broke all moral, social, and religious code by touching the robe of a man who was not in her family. But instead of reprimand, she received adoption. She was healed, and she was brought into the family of God.

Daughter....this is what I need. This is what we all need. To feel God's power roar through our bodies as though we are standing still while the universe passes by at the speed of sound, leaving us renewed, transformed. This is what we all need, to be engulfed into the family of God, without condition, without qualification.

"Daughter, go in peace and be relieved from your suffering."

33 A.D. -- The Desire For Resurrection

This is my first attempt at blogging after an almost four-year hiatus. I have titled my blog “33 A.D.” for a reason. Not just a cute religious play, not simply because Cadbury Eggs line the shelves indicating the nearness of Easter. No, my reason goes much deeper.

You see, less than a month ago, I turned 33. And two months ago, my life turned into something I never expected. Hopes were crushed, dreams were shattered, hearts were broken, and the wreckage has now become too deep to escape.

So, here I am, age 33, in need of resurrection. In need of life. Needing to feel my heart beat yet again. I’m in good company. There was another, one who loved so deeply, yet in the end, was left alone. In his love he emptied himself out. In his love, he faced death. His life seemed to end at age 33 as well. But three days later……

Is it Friday night for me? Am I only minutes removed from my death, body still warm? Is it Saturday morning? Numbness and stagnation have set in? Or, is it Saturday night? Am I on the verge of being transformed? Do I only have one more night of the lonely tomb to endure before I will once again rise, before the blood begins to pump, before the bloody wounds are mere scars, before my feet feel the ground and my hands feel the blowing wind?

I don’t know….it is 33 A.D. Resurrection is coming, I am sure of that. This is my journey through the dark damp tomb. This is my journey to return to the light, to enter into the garden, to walk towards the Emmaus Way, back to my community, back to my purpose, back to my God.