Category: Uncategorized (Page 78 of 188)

Come to the water’s edge all you, who are thirsty, come…

June 13, 2012 / Michele Minehart

I’ve spent the last several days near the water and on numerous boats. I used to think I was funny when I said I was most like Jesus when I was on, but not in, the water. But the past few days I have pondered the mystery of the water’s edge.

For some reason, sitting out and admiring the view of the lake (we’re fortunate to frequent two lakes regularly) has a calming effect. Everyone gravitates to the patio, looking out over the water. We remark about it’s beauty, we make statements about it’s tranquility. At Indian Lake we live in a section that the water is a No Wake Zone and people become flamboyant about letting others know when a white ripple escapes the motor. The practical folk liken it to the damage to the sea wall, but I know better. All the waves disrupt the calming effect.

What is it about the water’s edge? My mother-in-law has tried corralling my bigs away from the edge, trying her darndest to convince them the porch is just as fun. But the swing overlooking the ledge always wins. And none of us are huge swimmers – it’s not the recreational value. Nor do we feel the same sitting poolside. The chlorinated version simply doesn’t cut it.

As usual, I began to think theologically about it. Jesus spent a lot of time on the water’s edge, either preaching (by boat, no less) or, more famously, walking upon it. He even chose fishermen, Men of the Water, as his primary followers.

I thought back to my Hebrew class, when I memorized Genesis 1:1. As usual with language, the English version just doesn’t capture the essence of what is being said. In the verse lies a phrase – apologies for the horrible transliteration – “toe voo vah bo hoo” (sorry Dr. Overland!). We translate that monster of a phrase into “waters”. But water has its own word – mayim. So the phrase in Genesis contains more depth.

The TVVBH, from my recollection, seems to indicate “the depths”. It carried with it other ideas, this essence of chaos. Apparently the scene of Jesus walking of water wasn’t just amazing because of the physical feat, but when the disciples exclaimed “even the winds and waves obey him!” they indicated the common understanding that the waters, the depths, were the realm of the uncontrollable. Storms could blow up out of nowhere. The fisherman lifestyle meant danger and the unknown. The TVVBH domain was outside the controlled and controllable. Only God could (and can) change the weather.

So, back to the original question, now much more confusing: why do we feel calmed sitting at the edge of the water? Why do the unknown and uncontrolled depths bring us a sense of peace?

I’m wondering if it’s not so much the water, but the edge, that we’re drawn toward. We sense the chaos that could loom near but we realize our feet stand firm on the ground. While we sit so close to chaos, we rest upon creation. The ordered. If the storm were to arise, we’re gratefully not in a boat that would easily capsize. We’re not at the mercy of the unknown, but rather resting on the rocks of Everlasting to Everlasting.

Right now, as I enjoy my lakes so much, a group of pastors and clergy gather also at the edge of a (much larger!) lake to conference and connect. For many they seek refreshment and encouragement. But as a group, they come together to be empowered to back to their posts and live out a calling and a mission. Part of me finds it so fitting that they meet at the side of a lake. Because what is kingdom living, really, but putting into order the chaos of life? What is ministry, more than helping others rightly order their lives around the Rock that will not be shifted?

On Jordan’s stormy banks I Stand

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand

And cast a wishful eye

To Canaan’s fair and happy land

Where my possessions lie

All o’rer those wide extended plains

Shines one eternal day

There God, the Son forever reigns

And scatters night away

I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promise Land

No chilling wind nor poisonous breath

Can reach that healthful shore

Where sicness, sorrow, pain and death

Are felt and feared no more

I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promise Land

When shall I see that happy place

And be forever blessed

When shall I see my Father’s face

And in His bosom rest

I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promise Land

(Text by Samuel Stennett, 1727-1795)

she’s a good girl…

June 12, 2012 / Michele Minehart

I’ve spent most of my life fulfilling the requisite good girl shoes. I aimed to please, be it in performance (athletics, academics) or character (a good mom, good wife, good friend). It’s been a constant striving for Right or Best, whichever standard might be higher.

Which means that as I grew in the faith, I placed a high value on believing the right things and falling into line with correct standards of thought and behavior. I accepted beliefs and understandings about the world because I heard sound arguments, but also because believing else would put me on the outskirts of Correct. Note: not orthodoxy. (If I’ve learned nothing else in the past 4 years, it’s that in both child development and theology, the Range of Normal is larger than you think.)

I systematically swallowed the beliefs. I set standards for my life that fit like an uncomfortable pair of shoes and now I have blisters. It’s rubbed me the wrong way for much too long. And I’ve met a few people running barefoot that have freed me to bare my soles. And my soul.

It wasn’t a sudden shift. No major life event began to sway me. But the steady progression and observations of the world changed my understanding of, well, everything. People, God, how we’re all in this together but yet how badly we sometimes fail. I’ve fallen in love with good people who don’t name Jesus and I can’t help but believe that it’s Jesus is in there somewhere, nameless, but doing His work. And the goodness they’re living sometimes surpasses what we see from the people wearing the Jesus t-shirts.

I’m finding “core” beliefs that don’t mesh well with my center, largely around how we (the Jesus group) treat people. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I hear a message that says, “If you’re not like us, there’s no room for you here.” And I’m just not sure I believe the ways that we ask people to be like us are fair. Or right. Or good.

These barefoot people, they’re unapologetic about believing something other than what they’ve been taught. Most recently it’s been Sarah Bessey and how she feels women can be valued in ministry. And Tony Jones wonders if redemption is more than Get Out Of Hell Free. I’m finding so much freedom in the stories of Jen & Brandon Hatmaker, Shane Hipps, and NT Wright because not only do large pieces of my heart agree and have been validated, but I’m finding inspiration to vocalize my own uncertainty in previously established positions.

I find comfort in their humble yet secure attitudes; they offer explanation but not defense. And they make no attempts to evangelize their positions, only an offer to join. I appreciate their willingness to blaze trails, because those of us new to a barefoot perspective often have sensitive feet.

we were on a break…

June 6, 2012 / Michele Minehart

Yesterday my employer sent me 2 letters: one to congratulate me on my 5 years of service, the other to approve my nearing 8 week leave of absence (well, officially it’s 2 weeks PTO and 6 weeks unpaid personal leave). I appreciated both letters and didn’t realize, until 6am this morning, the significance of either.

The fact that I’ve been with the company 5 years surprises me on so many levels. It’s kind of like the time when I realized I’d been out of college longer than I’d been in (but mind you, still caught in the same fashion era). Time moves quicker than you think. Also notable:

I’ve been in this job longer than I was a youth director, though my tendencies to align myself with the youth directors as opposed to the HR or recruiters probably tells me something I’m not willing to hear.
This is the longest I’ve been with any job, position or company.
This is the first time I’ve stuck with something longer than a 4 year span since 1996. We seem to operate in 4 year increments in the young adult world, so there was high school, college and first job, all 4 years each. I broke the 4 year barrier. I’m officially an adult. (Probably related: : my last 4 year stint involved having kids.)
I never felt “called” into HR. Recruiting is not my lifelong aspiration or passion. I fell into it. I do a good job at it (I think). So 5 years moving quickly is proof of two things: complacency on my part and that my employer is very, very good to me and makes it hard to leave for anything remotely subpar.

But enough about how time flies when you’re reading bad resumes. On to the exciting stuff.

I’m taking a break from my 20-hour-a-week job (for which I create my schedule and self-direct my priorities and tasks). I know, I’m a lightweight. In my defense: I was carrying the workload of an overworked fulltime employee. I think that fact counts for something. But the decision to take some time for myself came from a perfect storm of situations:

Our sitter spree was stressing me out
We found a renter for The House That Won’t Sell
JJ has the summer off and we have 2 families with lakehouses. Things like conference calls just don’t bode well with that lifestyle.
I’d went back to work relatively quickly after Baby C was born, which if we all remember correctly, was the exact same time I moved to a new town. My general pace of life needs some slowing.
I read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years (again) and recognized for the 14th time I’m not writing the story I want to be (both figuratively – with my life – and literally – with my computer). And until I take a breather, I will never get started.
Related: until I created space to try writing things other than a blog that 12 people (Hi KLR! And Family!) read, I simply won’t. I’ll never find time, I can only make time.

At the end of September you’ll probably see me putting in my availability, hoping for some resume rating or admin support. I’ll likely pick up where I left off, putting in a few days a week. But hopefully when I return, I’ll have established patterns and routines that include more of the things I love. Like running. And baking. And swimming (okay, floating is more my speed. I don’t like to get my hair wet).

I’m also going to do a few scary things, like pitch an idea and query a story. I need to. I have to. The failure rate at the start of any writing effort is exceptionally high at the start, so I need to get these rejections rolling so I can get to the good stuff. I need to write some crappy first drafts so I can get better. I need to get my butt in the chair so that when I’m 65 and sitting at the lakehouse with my 900 grandchildren, JJ won’t say, “your grandma could’ve done something else. I tried to get her to, but the money was nice and the company was good to her.”

It’s time to start writing a good story. It includes a character who wants something and has to overcome an obstacle to get it. There is an inciting event. It has memorable scenes. Her character grows. She may not make a million dollars, write a bestseller or even quit her day job. But the goal is not just to write a story worth reading, but to do something worth writing about.

Category: Uncategorized (Page 78 of 188)

Come to the water’s edge all you, who are thirsty, come…

she’s a good girl…

we were on a break…

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