Even after following the story and reading reviews, I still haven’t bought Rob Bell’s new book. It’s probably my personal way of trying to go against the grain and not join in the hoopla, my own subversion of the culture if you will. But I have kept my eyes open for the interviews (though haven’t watched any of them, curious enough… I’m just not driven by the videos. YouTube holds no temptation for me, for some reason).
After I posted my initial thoughts and digested some of the comments, I decided that my knee-jerk questions weren’t what bugged me. I liked some of the comments I recieved via FB, and even agreed with most of them. While still fair questions and such, after more thought I think what really bugged me about the TweetingFest de la Bell was more in line with the Piperness. So tonight I’m digging around to see if that was my main frustration.
I’ve since read lots of comments on interviews and I think perhaps I’m getting warmer to the source of frustration. There are a lot of hurtful people out there. Not well-intentioned poor communicators. Just mean, malicious “Jesus loving” people. And I don’t think it should go together, not without concern.
Bell is in a limelight, for sure, and allows himself to be put there. And where a microphone and platform go, a gaggle of critics are sure to follow, it’s a law of nature. But I don’t think he expects all listeners to agree – any pastor who does probably has a bit of a complex. So it’s not the disagreement, it’s the venom with which it is spewed. God doesn’t call us all to agree and to be the same; He does call us to be loving and peaceful.
If some of the Tweeters had concern for Bell’s teachings, I would hope they would a) read the book and b) try to converse about it as a way to better understand what is being said. Ask. Research. Maybe shoot an email or call the guy and have a cup of coffee. I know, he’s proably got a full schedule. But – and I’m getting all Judgy McJudgerson here – I don’t think it crossed anyone’s mind. I think there are a massive amount of people in the world who feel that other people and their work, their opionions, their beliefs, simply exist to pounce upon, as if a sport. The vibe I felt through the tweets, and now through comments on different articles and interviews surrounding the book, is not one of concern – either for Bell or for those who read the book. It’s a concern for being right. An attitude of, “how dare ye say something that goes against my belief system?!”
Again, I haven’t read the book. The most recent interview with Bell that I read led me to believe that while I value some questions, I’m not able to go the distance he approaches. I can hear and understand where the thinking has taken him, but yet… it’s just so… well. You know. Big.
Then again, I have often thought Bell to fall more into the catagory of a modern day prophet, calling the Church and God’s people back to both a belief and a way of life that runs much deeper than some of the solutions that have been offered by contemporary Christianity. And we all know how it ends for prophets. Perhaps, like in the times of the Biblical prophets, we’re so busy comparing religion notes that we can’t hear when God is calling us back toward something that really does need our attention, such as living rightly with Him and one another.
Bell’s newest message is one of the tougher ones that I’ve chewed. But I do believe this: that, like when reading the Bible, if you take it into context of his overall teaching and preaching, you can’t question that his hope is to bring people into a better relationship with Jesus. The accusations about being a Universalist or whatever other heretical titles have been tossed about, fall short with me because it’s evident from listening to his messages consistently, over time, that his passion for the Gospel and for people to hear of Jesus is unquestionable. He didn’t write a book to make it easy for everyone to ignore Jesus now and hope to get in later; if anything the accusations would point more toward the accusors (well, those with a very escapist view). Bell pushes the message of “Jesus matters, now” more strongly than any other teacher I’ve heard in contemporary times.
Ah, I find myself skipping down a rabbit trail… or building a soapbox. Tomato, to-MAH-to. I’ve been asked why this is taking so long to compose, which is a sign it’s gone on too long. So I’ll leave it at that for now.
Month: March 2011 (Page 2 of 5)
Typically when I’m mid-post, husband will ask, “what are you blogging about?” to which I respond “let me finish, I’m mid-thought.” After I’ve wrapped up, I give him the cliff’s notes version. However, last night I should have stopped what I was doing to give a verbal run-down. It would’ve saved some confusion for all involved. Because I missed my point. Well, more accurately, there were about 45 points made, which equals pointlessness. So after the said discussion, I’ve started to narrow down what was actually festering.
My larger issue is that time and energy no longer falls into my possession; these elements belong to those who need me. Even nap time belongs to those who control the internal sleeping clock; I’m not free to do “whatever” I want because, well, childrens’ services frowns upon those who leave small, sleeping children at home, unattended. Even if it’s “just for coffee, real quick” (No, I haven’t tested these waters, but a friend in the world of social services has assured me of the accuracy of the aforementioned fact).
So, when time and energy are swallowed by those around you, sometimes it’s nice to have a way to recharge the batteries. Through the convo with the husband I was also able to begin to differentiate my need for recharging from his need for unplugging. After a long day, a time of staring at an electronic screen and pretending to drive a car (or, to be honest, shoot things) is what he craves. After a long week he’ll escape into a movie. These things are nice ways to disconnect and require little to no energy or thought, but they’re not rechargers. It’s like the aqua-robics version of jazzercize or mall walking vs. a quick jog. Low impact.
Before I ever concieved (in all trueness, before I was married), I told a friend that it was important to me that I not “loose myself” when I became a mother. I have interacted with some women who allowed their role as mom to swallow up the rest of their passions. I didn’t want that. I enjoyed the creation that God made the first 27 years enough to say that she shouldn’t disappear altogether. And I don’t think it’s good for the kids – I think one of the best things we can offer our children is a picture of wholeness, a mom who loves them AND is passionate about things outside the home. Perhaps it will give them a vision for serving a population outside their immediate situation. But I digress. (Are you surprised?)
However, being a mom changes you. Priorities shift. Parenting is God’s way of helping you become less selfish (and helping grow patience. And an iron stomach). So in no way do I think that I have “a right” to pampering. That’s not what I’m after.
So what am I after? That’s the exact question Husband proposed no less than 3 times in our conversation. Clearly, I’m unclear.
I’m after Sabbath rhythms. I’m after time that doesn’t qualify as “work” and that rejuvinates the soul. I’m after a breath that refreshes. I’m after that which leaves me with more energy than when I began.
And what does that look like? Ah, the pennacle question. In the words of the great David Crowder, I… don’t…. know. But today I made progress. I started a mental list.
What leaves me energized and excited about life (but not in a “I finally found the bottom of the laundry room floor!” kind of way):
- Browsing through a bookstore
- Having coffee, dinner or wine with a friend. Some of my favorite conversational partners include KLR, Patty B, college roomates, Roberta, Dan Who Knows Everything and AW. Also my old Bible study ladies from Upper. And Judy.
- Talking about youth ministry and coming up with ideas for events or lessons.
- Having coffee or dinner with “my kids”, such as KS, AK, MK and AG. Also current youth kids at St. Pauls, there are a few of them that have really strike my conversational fancy.
- Going for a run. A walk simply doesn’t satisfy.
- Aimlessly meandering through Target, specifically the office supply/organizational aisles.
- Daydreaming. Imgaining what could be. Coming up with ways to make it happen.
Perhaps you know me well. I’d like your input. Or, perhaps you could share what makes you come home and talk a-mile-a-minute in a teenager-type way, so the rest of us can try it out and see if it works for us? Then, when I finally schedule a Mommy Time Out, I have a go-to list of ideas to try.
It amazes me how seemingly random conversation – albeit interesting and enjoyable – comes back to haunt your later readings and then ponderings. Such is the occassion.
AG and I were chatting about her ordination interview and about questions that were raised to her regarding self-care*. Pastors join the guilty party with other service-oriented vocations like teachers and social workers when it comes to neglecting time to recharge the batteries. I’ve known some that are good at retreating on more of an annual basis, but when it comes to weekly Sabbath or daily downtime, it just doesn’t make the iCal. So I think it’s a wise question to be asking those embarking on such a servant-journey. It should also be added to the birthing classes book. Indulge me here…
On the whim of a craving for self-developing, reflective non-fiction, I picked up my copy of Writing Motherhood, a birthday gift from my sister. I had started it last fall but had not returned (some of the information seemed a bit trivial to keep my focus but, as I guessed, the introspective mood gave it some grace). I skimmed through the pre-read chapters for review and came across the chapter on the Time Out, an advocacy for the reader to make sure to take time… out… in order to stay fresh in both writing and mothering. Wise advice.
The chapter closes with a quote by Alice Domar and Henry Dreher (how more than one person can be credited for saying it is beyond me…): “Self-nurture is about much more than treating ourselves to a nice movie or pleasant massage once in a while. It is about reclaiming our right to pleasure and wholeness, and it requires us to make strong statements to loved ones about our limits, boundaries and needs.”
The word pleasure got my attention as I’m currently co-reading Eat, Pray, Love. Though I find the author to be increadibly selfish (my view is that you’re not allowed to choose not to be married any more just because you “don’t feel like it”), but she raises a good point in her section on visiting Italy that we Americans know little about true pleasure. We are indulgent and selfish, but we know little about unplugging the distractions long enough to know what brings us great joy. We’re well entertained, but lack an understanding of what recharges our batteries.
I’ve always been a strong advocate for Sabbath practices and, in the past, have worked hard to establish those boundaries. However, I have found great difficulty in defining fair expectations of downtime while mothering. I seem to dive from selfless giving (and wiping and cooking and rocking and packing lunches) straight into selfish pity mode. I don’t need is to cry about how tired I am, my frequent reaction… what I need is to find a why to recharge.
Often when H gets worked up (typically over something very insignificant) I ask him if he’d like to go lay down and rest for a while. He’ll go to his bed and lay down with Buckeye and Binky, the 2 things that make him happiest and help him relax. Somehow I need to figure out what it looks like for me to “rest for a while” at the same time 2 little creatures depend on me to make sure limbs and appendages stay attached. I don’t have the freedom to escape for coffee outings or shopping sprees every day, but surely there’s a time each week that I can build in a personal haven that brings energy to my mind and refreshes the love in my heart.
*There was more, and less than this in my conversation with AG, but it provided fodder for these later thoughts.