Day Ten: Into Perspective

You know those days when nothing seems to go your way? It’s like the world is out to get you. You wake up late, burn your tongue on your morning coffee, cut yourself shaving and forget to pack you lunch. And because you’re already unhappy, nothing is going to make the day better so work is a drag. You don’t want to interact with anyone but indulging your misery alone isn’t helping either. You’re just in a bad mood and that’s that.

That was my Monday. None of what I listed actually happened to me. However, I woke up with a bad attitude, for no easily identifiable reason. Then I received a disappointing email from AltLink. On top of that, I kept receiving “no” RSVPs for my going-away dinner next Saturday. Whomp whomp.

Sitting all alone, my thoughts began to spiral into a depressing hole as I considered canceling the dinner. I work from home on Mondays so I had the entire day to mope around the house feeling sorry for myself. I just wanted to crawl into bed and wallow in self-pity the rest of the day.

But I couldn’t. That evening I had an event to host. As a Cares team for Apartment Life, Rachel and I host three events every month. Yesterday was our seventy-sixth event, approximately. It was called “Hot Dogs with your Hot Dog.” Basically it was a hot dog bar for humans, with chili and cheese toppings and treats for any passing dogs. I’m nothing if not dutiful, so I shut my work computer, turned on an audio book and began boiling 100 hot dogs. Still my thoughts swirled around my problems and what I needed to do and what I wanted to happen and how I was going to make it happen.

By the time 6:30pm rolled around, Rachel and I had everything set up outside and people started to arrive. I did not feel like interacting with the people who came to get hot dogs. I did not want any intrusion to interrupt my thoughts. But thankfully, for my own sake, that was impossible.

More and more people began to show up. People really like hot dogs! And I started to smile as I saw familiar happy faces. I began having conversations about other people’s days; they allowed me glimpses into their lives as we conversed. While I made sure the ice was filled, refilled forks and helped a child fill her plate, the day’s depression began to dissipate. My self-involvement and concern turned outward and my attitude transformed.

When I serve others my self-importance diminishes as I realize that I am not the center of the universe. The story does not revolve around me. One of my Peace Corps applicants spoke about this. She had lost her only son in a car accident. Following his death, she and her husband went through a difficult divorce. She quit her job and began volunteering at a soup kitchen. She told me that it was only through pouring herself out to others that she found peace. When I am only concerned for myself, then my problems seem insurmountable at times. As I stare at them unblinkingly, they become bigger and bigger until they cloud over my vision and I can no longer see anything else. Romans 12:3 reads, “Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.” Even when I think myself with self-pity, I am positioning myself as more important than others in my own mind. When my focus turns from myself to others, my problems move to the periphery and become much more manageable and insignificant.

In Galatians 6:9a, Paul says, “And let us not grow weary of doing good”. I say do good to overcome weariness.  Service to others, and ultimately to the Lord, is what keeps me grounded. It puts life into perspective.

Day Eight: Disillusionment Reversed

Yesterday evening my friend Sharon and I were on our way to Party City. My going away party is approaching and we were on the hunt for decorations. As we were headed down Peachtree Street, Sharon, who was driving, craned her neck around and asked, “Is he ok?” I turned around in time to see a man lying sprawled out on the sidewalk very close to the busy thoroughfare. We quickly decided to stop and Sharon pulled into the closest parking lot. We jumped out of the car, running to the sidewalk. The man wore running shoes and linen pants. His eyes were closed, his hands were on either side of his head and blood had pooled around his head on the sidewalk. I heard Sharon cry, “Oh my God, he’s hurt. Call 911”. I had my phone ready and I dialed the number. I was frantic. My voice shook as I tried to tell the operator where we were and the scene that lay in front on me. Sharon kneeled next to the man and he began to speak just as a police car pulled into the median. He didn’t sit up; he didn’t stir except to say that he thought he was ok but didn’t want to move; his head hurt. While the police officer called for an ambulance and back up, Sharon asked his name. Evan, he said. Then she asked if he would mind if we prayed for him. Evan told us he wasn’t religious, didn’t go to church but he believed in God so he’d like for us to pray. Afterwards, I asked him if there was anyone I could call for him, any family or friends that would want to know what just happened and where he was. His words broke my heart. “No,” he whispered, “There’s no one.”

Evan eventually sat up. The police officer handed him some gauze to stem the steady flow of blood that seeped from a gash above his eyebrow. His pattern of speech was, at times, confusing. Alcohol and a possible concussion may have been the culprits, but we got some of his story. Evan is twenty-six and recently moved back “home” to Atlanta. He repeatedly told us how happy he was to be home. He said he’d had a rough day, though. His girlfriend broke up with him and he was out for a walk. He thinks he tripped on the sidewalk and busted his head.

I don’t know if that was the real story and it doesn’t matter much. Two things really stuck with me though. Evan believes in God but doesn’t go to church. And Evan is alone.

It became even more poignant to me when my pastor this morning spoke about this exact subject! He said, “It’s not that people don’t believe in God or Jesus; they don’t believe in the church.”

This has been on my mind for the last week and the events of the last two days have really brought it to a head. I’ve read a couple articles, and the blogosphere has been blowing up lately about why millennials, and others, are leaving the church.  In her opinion article to CNN, Rachel Held Evans seems to think it’s about “how young adults perceive evangelical Christianity to be too political, too exclusive, old-fashioned, unconcerned with social justice and hostile to lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people.”

Trevin Wax, a blogger for the Gospel Coalition, agrees somewhat in his response but thinks that we’re looking for substance, real substance. And then he goes on to elaborate areas where Rachel is mistaken. Honestly, he seems to be arguing a lot on semantics. Both articles are well written and make valid points.

I do not claim to have any idea why millennials are leaving the church. It would presumptuous on my part to make an argument that defines an entire generation. I am only one person. My friends are just a drop in the ocean of the 20 somethings in America, from a limited geographic area, with limited experiences. But I left the church for a minute. I know why I did it. And I know why I came back. So I will start there.

My formative years were spent in very conservative, very dogmatic churches. I saw several church splits over issues of infinitesimal significance in the grand scheme of things. Feelings were hurt, arguments occurred often and what I did not see was what Jesus said we would see in John 13:35, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” Love was conditional in the church. Step out of line, disagree, have another opinion and you’re out of the club. I was disillusioned with the people of God. When I left for college I’d had enough of church.

It wasn’t until I returned from the Peace Corps six years later, after my “reversion” which you can read about in Who I Once Was, that I decided to give church a go again. Why? Hebrews 10:24-25 says, “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another.” It’s a command and I had a renewed desire to obey. But I was completely prepared for the judgment, sexism and cliquishness that I’d previously experienced. What I found was different though.

Since moving to Atlanta, I have had the opportunity to attend several churches. I don’t know where I’d be today if it were not for the people I have met through church. My roommate, my friend Sharon (see above), Apartment Life, the new Cares team, and on and on the list goes of people I’ve met, who’ve become an integral part of my life, and wonderful organizations I’ve become involved with because of church connections. It wasn’t quick. Like any relationship, it takes time. Church people are still people. Acceptance is not usually immediate. But among church people you will find God’s people- surrounded by them I found the community that banishes loneliness, brings encouragement and stirs us toward action in loving others more fully. This is why I came back to the church. I had God; I needed to be among his people. I pray that Evan finds this too.

A Little Bit of Sunshine

Someone told me recently that I needed a more positive blog post. This person said that while each post has come to a positive resolution they are full of trials and tribulations. So I started to think. What could I write about concerning this initial process that is positive? Don’t get me wrong. My daily life is full of joy and blessing. But this blog isn’t about my daily life. At this point it’s about support raising. And support raising is hard. Feelings of rejection and dismissal are almost daily occurrences. Disappointment and hope are intermingled.

 

But then it struck me. Throughout this entire process, standing in the background, ready to jump in and give me an encouraging word, “like” my Facebook post or listen to a rant has been one person: Rachel, my roommate. She has been and is my little bit of sunshine since the moment last February I told her I applying to work overseas.

 

Rachel and I met two years ago after I decided to try out for a play at my new church. I got a part as an angel and a Hebrew woman and Rachel was in my group- we walked across stage together or sat near each other in certain scenes. She was a part of a group of friends all around my age and they welcomed me wholeheartedly into the mix. I had only lived in Atlanta for about 6 months and new friends were exactly what I needed.

 

Rachel and I decided to live together after about two months of being friends. My lease was coming up and she was ready for a change in her living situation. We applied and were accepted to be a Cares Team through Apartment Life. Since July 2011 we have planned and hosted three events every month, visited new residents and residents with an upcoming renewals. Our Cares experiences could fill up an entirely new blog, so I won’t dwell on those.

Mardi Gras Cares event 2012

 

 

Since that day, over a year ago, when I applied for this position Rachel has been my rock. She has listened to my heart; she shares a love for the African people, having completed a short-term mission trip to Ethiopia and Rwanda last year. She commiserated with me when I was required to get six months of counseling and then celebrated with me when I was finally accepted to AltLink.

 

Behind each trial that my previous posts list, she was there helping to sustain me. Rachel drove me to the hospital after my car accident. She took off work the next day to be my chauffeur. Remember all those dots on my calendar? She is the reason I don’t have more. She takes on the shopping, cooking and gift bag creation responsibilities for Cares events and visits. She shoulders so much of the load. And who could forget support raising?

 

Rachel is my first  monthly supporter. This past Sunday at church, I heard a message about giving based on 1 Corinthians 16. The pastor spoke about how grace-based giving is compelled by compassion, not guilt. It is consistent and it is sacrificial. All of these qualities I find in my roommate.

By this point, I know reading this she is blushing and trying to make excuses about why these don’t really apply to her and how she is just doing what she can. One more thing about her, she’s humble.

 

So I thank God every day for bringing Rachel into my life.  Second Corinthians 9:6 says, “Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.” Rachel has sown generously; she has invested her time, her finances and her heart. I look forward to the day when she will reap ten fold. Thanks for being my little bit of sunshine.