Men in Black

Things have been quiet here in the library. Possibly because I felt like I was no longer confined by those four walls.

Recently a lot of stuff came back to haunt me when I visited a regional gathering of the powers-that-be in the denomination I used to be employed by. I popped into to catch up with friends from far and wide who had all gathered in my local town, and mainly to catch up with my dad, who lives overseas, but had flown in for the meetings. Some time has passed since I jumped ship, so I thought things would be fine by now.

Many little vignettes were played out, but the one that got my goat, was the guy who made a big deal about coming over to give me a bear hug in front of all my previous work colleagues. This same guy was "not available" when I resigned from church work and requested an exit interview. And made no effort to be available any other time, or dialogue on issues I had raised previously. Nada. Zilch. Nuthing!

Then, when in front of others, he makes a big deal of being loving, caring and "fatherly" to me. Hmm, if only I'd had a copy of Strong's Concordance in my handbag, I could have delivered a hefty whack to his head. Perhaps it would have jogged his memory . . .

living in evaporated milk?

When I first heard people talk about incarnation and incarnational living, I wondered what a tin of evaporated milk had to do with living the Christian life. Bobbing around in this big sea, I thought perhaps if I churned around enough I might thicken the carnation up and be able to walk on it instead of swim. Enough with the silliness . . .

Now I understand and am beginning to live that way. Incarnationally. No compartmentalised religion. It's a whole life thing. Some people think "the church" as an organised structure shows Jesus to the world, I now understand that Jesus is most often seen more accurately through individual lives. People living out their daily routines, with Jesus in them, spreading a scent of hope among those they live and love and work with.

pew pitstop

Well, I was in a church service for the first time in months on the weekend. Hubby wanted to go visit some friends and be introduced to someone who may have a career stepping stone for him. I was not a happy vegemite!

He couldn't fathom why I was so upset. I tried to explain - after all I've been through to exit from the political church scene - that his attempt at going to church to meet someone who may have a job for him just got up my nose. I told him I'd rather he be unemployed, than stoop to those levels. It's been a rough few days recovering.

Sitting in the pew (or should I say, staying there) took every bit of selfcontrol I could muster. The pastor was up the front making jokes about gaining weight and getting man boobs, playing on his three P sermon points by telling some pathetic story about peeing, and a few other topics I won't get started on. Hey, I have a weird sense of humour and like a laugh with the best of them, and I'm no prude - but I felt so put off by his attitude.

They were a friendly bunch though, with a few coming up after the service to chat with us, and we stayed to have coffee with the couple we knew. But I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

And now, I'm left feeling like I overreacted. Well, that's what hubby stated anyhow. Why couldn't I just enter into the spirit of worship with these people, even though I don't agree with their methodology? Felt like a black smothering fog had descended on top of me. It was very unpleasant.

I think it will be a long time before I sit in a pew again.

hall of mirrors

Remember the hall of mirrors at the fun park? Some mirrors made you look tall and gangly, others make you look short and squat. It was fun to stand in front of the mirrors, make funny gestures and be amused by the strange looking creatures reflected back. It was a healthy amusement – as long as you knew when to leave the hall of mirrors and face the world outside.

Staying inside the hall of mirrors is unhealthy.
Paul speaks of it this way when referring to Israel:
Fed up with their quarrelsome self-centred ways,
God blurred their eyes and dulled their ears,
Shut them in on themselves in a hall of mirrors,
And they are there to this day. (Romans 11:8 The Message)

We are not called to spend all our time observing our own reflection in a hall of mirrors. Our view becomes distorted when all we’re looking at is caricatures of ourselves. After a while, you begin to believe that it’s normal, healthy, and indeed desirable, to look this way all the time.

We are called to live outside the hall of mirrors. Where the only reflections anyone is gazing at are the ones of Christ in us.

not normal

What is normal? Doesn't the definition change with every single person as they evaluate the world and others in it from their own perspective?

What is normal for a child living in a yurt in Mongolia is not normal for a child living in condo in New York city. What is normal for a teacher in the highlands of Papua New Guinea is not normal for a teacher in the Alaskan wilderness.

Normal is the accepted standard. But who sets the standards?

When Jesus walked the earth, he redefined "normal" all the time. He challenged the status quo at every opportunity. Shouldn't we follow in his footsteps?

mermaids tresses

I once ate an asian dish called Mermaids Tresses. It was fried seaweed coated in honey and sesame seeds. Sounds weird but it was actually delicious.

So what's that got to do with it?

Well, I've been in the water for awhile now and am starting to grow a tail!?! Seriously, I am feeling more at home in this fluid environment.

It's only when I spend time with those who are still on the boat that I start to get uncomfortable. How to maintain relationships with them, but maintain my own self-respect, is a growing problem. These people and the boat have been life as I know it for a long time.

I don't want to lose relationships, but I don't want to lose my new found freedom either.

bermuda triangle

Without the usual navigation points, it's hard to know which way is up and which way is down. I know He is my true north. And the one that set me on this crazy course. But right now, I feel like I've disappeared off the map. Swimming into uncharted waters and very alone.

which watercraft?

So, they think I've become a PWC [personal water craft] license holder. "Ms Independence on a jet-ski" they said with a sneer. Can't they see I'm not on a boat, a jet-ski or even a rubber tube! As for being independent, this floating way of life requires more sacrifice of self than cruising with the crew of SS MegaChurch ever did.

Out in the open sea one has to rely on God more than on their own skill set, resume, or political connections. The old crew mates are busily running around on their own independent agendas, while pointing the finger at me. Perhaps they are angry because I am no longer serving their agenda?

low sodium

Weird - I've noticed something strange about the water.
The closer you get to the ship, the less salty the water gets.

being sucked under

I'm learning that it's dangerous bobbing around in the water too near the ship. A sinking ship creates a suction effect that drags everything else in the water around it down to the bottom also.

It's crazy really. One would think that having jumped ship I wouldn't want to still be near it. But old habits die hard. When the ship has been your whole life, it's hard to cast off from a community. When you have instant "friends" worldwide from being part of the ship's crew, a shared heritage, in jokes, in built employment opportunities - it's rather huge to leave it behind.

My identity has been so tied up in all that. I suddenly feel I no longer exist. It's a weird head-space to be in.

The hardest thing is my partner is still employed as a crew member. And my father is one of the senior sailors. A captain of a sistership sailing in nearby waters. So floating away from the ship to discover a new way to be on water is a bit hard. I feel like I'm about to be sucked under again.

And, I'm not sure how long I can hold my breath for.

sharks and other scary sea monsters

Since jumping ship, I'm getting plenty of practise in discernment. There are many so called "prophets" or "apostles" cruising the waters seeking new blood.

It's a vulnerable place to be. And I'm learning that I have to 'test the spirits' more than ever. The bonus is, I'm relying more on the Father than ever before.

desperately seeking floaties

When I was a little kid, my sister and I had yellow floaties. Plastic blow up bands that you wear on your arms to supposedly keep you afloat. I never quite understood why they went around your arms. You breath through your mouth and nose, not your armpits!

But I still remember the sense of achievement when I was allowed in the pool without wearing my floaties. I was a big girl now, and my sister was still a little kid.

After making the choice to jump ship, the immediate reaction on hitting the water was to grab something that would help me keep afloat. Some on the ship thought they would help and threw a lifebouy ring thingy at me. All that managed to do was hit me on the head. The concussion just about ended my journey there and then. They meant well - I think!?!

not LOST

When you jump ship, people think you're crazy. They warn you of sharks and giant octopus and tropical islands enroute from Sydney to LA that have unknown scary monsters hiding in the jungle ;-)

They tell you there's safety in numbers and that all these people can't be wrong. They offer to put you up in a fancier cabin, where the ensuite has gold taps and scented toilet paper. They think if they surround me with so much puff and nonsense that I'll fail to see the reality.

But my eyes have been opened and man what they have seen. And what my ears have heard. My soul has been sickened. People building their own floating kingdom under the guise of ministry. Serving up vomit in silver platters. Regurgitated wisdom from the book of the month, the seminar of the week, or the conference of the quarter.

And the passengers just pick up their silver spoons and start shoveling it in.

God help them. And they think I'm the one that is lost.

think Gilligan's island

I'm tired of being told to sit in the corner and be quiet. It's often insinuated in actions rather than verbal instructions. Mainly by men in suits - and no, not white ones! In fact from here on in I'll call them the MIB (men in black).

So sit right back and you'll hear a tale
a tale of a tired Godchick
Who chose to be a castaway
and jumped off the church-run ship.

The ship was going nowhere fast
too many steering committees
MIB shouting directions
not seeing the island for the trees.

Full steam ahead in too many directions
meant lots of noise and chunder
But despite the boiler being red hot
The boat was going under.

So she took a leap of flying faith
and splashed down in the sea
this blog will share the ups and downs
of the Godchick's floating journey.

shuffling deck-chairs

My life has revolved around the church ever since I can remember. I grew up as a pastors kid (PK), attended private church schools, married someone who taught in private church schools, was active as a church member and then became denominationally employed myself.

The whole big fish in a little pond scenario.

Although reticent, I started working for the church because I thought I could make a difference. That my voice might be a catalsyt for change. The main thing I learned was this:

It doesn't matter how you arrange the deckchairs on a sinking ship.