Spilling Some Tea (it's old, but it's still hot)

This morning, I remembered something that unlocked a deep resentment I'd forgotten about, and it is just another thing I look back on and wish I'd done differently.

First, I have MANY regrets about how I treated people, and I know I owe a lot of people apologies. If you're one of those people, please feel free to reach out to me. I am not reaching out to some folks because I don't want to reopen wounds that might have healed. But believe me, I know a lot of the junk from my life is my doing.

THIS EXAMPLE is not, and I regret so much that I did not stand up for myself at the time.

I filed for divorce on March 14, 2011. At the time, I was going to Sherman (TX) Bible Church. They found out almost immediately and pulled me off of a project I'd been working on for the Easter service. I had written a script and was supposed to be in the film for the weekend. The church said that they were giving me "time off to concentrate on your marriage" (they pulled my ex-husband off of his weekend camera service, too) but it was really because I had been too visible to be allowed to continue while going down the path of leaving my husband.

I'm going to address what I wish I'd done here in a moment, but I have to tell you the part that REALLY bothers me:

The short film that the team produced was based on something that really happened to the pastor of the church at the time (Dennis Henderson, who is currently serving in a support ministry role to his son's church, which just happens to be a few miles from here) who had been a police officer in Dallas and had sort of "befriended" a woman he'd arrested multiple times for prostitution. He and his family had welcomed her into their home and really extended the love of Christ to her. She kept telling him that she was going to leave her pimp and live a "clean" life, but in the end, she was murdered before she could get out.

Obviously, the Easter story didn't include the part about her killing. He wanted it to show that Christians could win people over just by loving them, no matter who the person was. Not a bad message, and honestly we should just extend love to people regardless of whether they ever believe in a god or not. But our task was to create a 15-minute video that would be shown at the Easter services.

At the time, the church did quite a lot of video production and live "skits" during church. I had been on arts planning teams for about a decade at this time. The arts minister; a lady I thought was my friend until my life got too "messy" for her; and I came up with an outline to the story we wanted to produce, and I went home and wrote it.

Not including listening to Dennis's story and collaborating with the arts team, I spent probably 20 hours at home working on and polishing up the script, then editing it after feedback.

Fast-forward to the part where I get kicked out of the process. They started filming it on a night when I was out of town with my kid at a gymnastics meet, anyway. I was texting with a friend who was involved in the filming and it sounded typical of shoots: fun. But not for me.

In the end, the project was completed and shown on Easter weekend, and people loved it. They made CDs of it available and gave them to the people who had been involved. Someone who was truly a friend, Randy Sedlacek, made sure that I got my copy, and he even invited me to the party the church was hosting to distribute the copies of the video. I couldn't bring myself to go, even though he encouraged me to ("you earned it!") because he's a solid guy. I'll always remember him fondly.

Here's the kicker: I found out that when people would ask Dennis who wrote the script, his answer was, "It wrote itself... it was a true story."

Now, if you're my mom and you're reading this, maybe close it out. Because I'm about to use a very un-Christian phrase: That dude can go fuck himself because what did he mean "the script wrote itself"?? Even if he DICTATED IT to someone, it had to be typed up and formatted. But he didn't. He gave us an idea and a partial story-line, and we turned it into something. Using my words. I was the conduit that took his words and stories and translated them into a film-able format. That is an art and a skill, and the absolute lack of respect for it and for me is astounding.

I'm literally shaking right now, just thinking about it. This guy who told me to stay in a doomed marriage because "what if Jesus is going to save your marriage tomorrow and you gave up one day too soon" wanted so badly for me to disappear when I didn't submit to the benevolent and wise male leadership of that church that he actually made me invisible. I wasn't someone who contributed heavily to the aesthetic appeal of that church for years. No. The stuff just wrote itself.

WHAT I DID: Nothing. I mean, I complained to close friends who were in the know. But at that point, I'd already been made to sign a thing that I wouldn't blog about what was going on between me and the church vis-à-vis my divorce. And I wanted them to realize that I was still the exact same person I'd always been and approve of me and accept me SO MUCH that I tried my absolute most sincerely to comply. To kowtow. To crawl through every single hoop they put in front of me to prove my worthiness of continued participation in the church. UGH. I did basically NOTHING. And they were still very angry with me about it.

WHAT I WISH I'D DONE: Revoked my permission for them to use my script. At that point, they probably already had it. But I wish I'd written certified letters to every member of leadership demanding that they write another script and not use mine because if they didn't want me involved, that was the only honorable thing to do. That they would use my work that was invisible while making sure my face didn't show up anywhere is vile. 

I don't think it would have changed anything, but I wish I'd expressed my anger and wish to be absolutely removed from everything. And then when they used it anyway, I wish I'd written about THAT. I wish I'd written about EVERYTHING in REAL TIME. I wish I'd had the strength to say,"If you don't like what I'm making public, then maybe don't do it in private."

They were a bunch of bullies who genuinely thought they were shepherding me in God's will. This is one reason that I will never EVER spiritually submit myself to another human as long as I live. It's one thing to make stupid decisions for yourself and get hurt, but to think that you can try to persuade someone else to made bad choices because YOU feel like there's some edict from above that it's your calling to enforce? No. I'm sorry. Not this lady. Never again.

Women of Faith?

My pastor, Ryan, asked me if I'd be willing to speak for a few minutes in church about a woman who had helped shape my faith. I told him I'd think about it and get back with him.

Looking back, the first and most obvious choice would be my mother. She has always been a devout follower of Christ. She reads and rereads scripture like she's poring over an intimate letter from a dear friend. She finds such encouragement and hope from her faith, and it shows. My mom's spiritual gift is... hand-written cards? She sends cards to people who are sick, who are celebrating, or who might just have crossed her mind on any given day. She is an encourager. She wants very much to please God.

One time, we had been in a bookstore and as we made our way through the parking lot, Mom said, "Did you hear that girl crying?" I hadn't. Mom had asked her what was wrong, and had gotten the girl's whole life story in the end. This struck me and made me more intentional about noticing other people who might be hurting. I've now approached numerous strangers, awkwardly asking, "Do you need anything?" with no idea where to go from there. But I've never regretted it.

Yes, my mom was the earliest and most earnest example of faith in my life. And it might not be the case, but being "good" always seemed to come easy for her, as though she didn't experience many of the temptations that mere mortals like I did. So, in a way, that faith also seemed inaccessible at times. In fact, my sister and I used to quote a friend of mom's, just to annoy her, who called her "God's perfect person."

So, upon further rumination, I realized that there is one woman who shaped my faith as it is today even more than my mom did...

She was Billie, the pastor's wife where I attended church and served in various positions of lay leadership for the better part of a decade. We weren't close, but when it became clear that I was divorcing my husband of thirteen years, she was called in to "counsel" me against pursuing the separation.

She said many things that day with which I took issue, but two things she said forever changed how I would look at what I believe:

1) "Well, he's not hitting you and he's not cheating on you, so you're pretty much stuck."
2) "... And, you know, life kind of sucks, anyway, so..."

"You're stuck, and life sucks."

As it says in John 10:10: "I have come that they might have life... which pretty much sucks."

This well-meaning woman was feeding me propaganda from centuries of fundamentalist patriarchy: The one and only way for you, a woman, to bring glory to God is to surrender to an untenable situation. The end.

The thing is, for all of the problems I had with my church during this time, I never doubted that the hand of God was on it. I believed that he had a way for my child and me to enter into a more full existence. And I was right.

But because of Billie, I was able to see something in stark daylight that had never occurred to me before: I could not be part of any faith that discounts someone's pain or truth and tells them the only way to please God is to continue to allow themselves to be hurt or marginalized or discounted.

I would never have someone look back on a conversation with me and call it "spiritual abuse."

I wanted to love, genuinely, on behalf of God. If a religion told me to do otherwise, it was not the worship of the God I believed in.

I'd rather have the faith of... well, here we are: back at my mother.

We do not agree on the letter of the law when it comes to what God says, but I do know that my mom's faith informs her desire to see people who are hurt, to hear their stories without judgement, and to try, in whatever way she can, to shoulder some of their burdens.

She believes it's possible to achieve what Romans 15:13 says: "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." And so do I.

For the love of all that is good and holy...

There was an interview with the cast of Arrested Development that was very difficult for me to read/listen to. There was a lot of clapback and Jason Bateman has issued an apology, which is the right thing to do, but if I had been planning on watching, I'd not be able to now because I know the hurt that was involved, and I can't suspend my memory enough to enjoy the program.

In thinking about why I reacted so viscerally to this, I realized something: It's pretty much a replay of my meeting(s) with the elders of my church when I explained why I'd chosen to divorce my husband. I was sitting in this room, outnumbered by men, all of whom attempted to convince me that my reality wasn't significant enough to justify my feelings.

EFFFFFFFF THAAAATT!

Breaking from the world of entertainment and focusing on religiosity, here's something that seems blatantly obvious in retrospect but is not a thing I'd really considered before: If you, as a lady, are a sincere Christian attempting to devoutly follow the teachings of the modern evangelical church, you can get caught between The Rock (not Dwayne Johnson; the earlier one) and a Holy Hard Place.

Typically, you're in a heterosexual marriage following the alleged biblical mandate that there is a divine hierarchy (benevolent, sure -hopefully-, but a hierarchy nonetheless) in which the husband is the head of the household and, as such, has extra accountability and responsibility. That can look a lot like power, and where there is a power imbalance, there is always the opportunity for abuse.

My first husband took this all seriously, but was generally kind. My second husband likely had good intentions, but was consistently unkind and extremely low key controlling.

The same thing can be said for submitting to church authority, the vast majority of whom are men. When someone, be it a partner or a leader, claims to be speaking on behalf of God, what is a well-meaning woman supposed to do?

I actually heard from my husband, "I'm making this decision for our family, and if I'm wrong, then I'll have to answer to God about it. But I'm trying to do what's best." This was in regards to excising my sister and her family from our day-to-day life. WWJD, right?

And from a preacher's wife, who, yeah, is female but definitely a tool of the patriarchy, "Don't you trust God to protect your child?" Anyone who knows anything can tell you that this is emotional manipulation of the most blatant kind.

In both situations, I had the choice of complying and staying in good favor or of saying, "No. You're wrong" at the expense of implying that God is the one who was wrong. I have been dis-invited from two congregations for doing things of which the leaders disapproved (because, in their defense, it said so in the Bible), even though I didn't feel in either situation that God himself was displeased (or dishonored, as I was told my actions necessarily did).

This never entered my conscious brain until this morning, and I'm sure it had zero to do with my decision-making when it came time to get hitched to my non-believing husband, but I have to say... It's super empowering to be in a relationship where one side cannot appeal to a God-given authority to mandate the other's behavior. Instead, when James and I disagree, we come together and talk, we reason, we work together. I get that many Christian marriages operate this way, but I know a lot that don't.

Also, I'm so grateful for women like Sarah Bessey, author of "Jesus Feminist;" Rachel Held Evans, author of "A Year of Biblical Womanhood;" and other female Christian voices who are out there spreading the news that we can have an egalitarian outlook on life and still love Jesus. Women (nor anyone) should never have to endure any kind of abuse. Period. Hard stop. I'm committed to calling it out where I see it. I hope you'll join me.

A Quick Word About the "Call to Action"

How are you guys feeling about July 4th? Do you kind of feel a a little bruised about America based on the events of the past couple of weeks? There are lots of people with lots of viewpoints, but I feel like most of us have been disappointed either by our fellow Americans or our government or our political process or either our lack of social progress in the past 200 years or what seems like a rocket-ship's speed of progress.

I'm not going to talk about my opinions about any of it, though I definitely do have thoughts. If you want to talk about it, let's meet and talk. No one ever changed his or her mind on a touchy subject (like politics, racism, marriage equality, gun rights, etc.) based on an internet showdown, least of all based on my little blog.

What I wanted to address specifically is one thing that I've seen come up several times on the internet (which, whatever, we're a bunch of random weirdos so just carry on) but also in my social media feeds... and you guys are my friends, and I love you, and I hurt that you hurt, and I also think that you're maybe worried about the wrong things and are maybe thinking that there's something coming and you need to do something, but the thing you're wanting to do isn't the important thing.

Sorry for the vaguery. I genuinely don't want to step on anyone's toes, and I definitely want this post to reflect the love and sympathy I have... maybe I should have done it as a vlog, but I can't talk when my child is asleep, and I don't get a minute to the computer when he's awake, so thanks for bearing with this, and for giving me every benefit of the doubt.

I've seen the following phrases called forth on social media recently: "call to action," "battle lines," and various takes on that kind of thing. If you're one of the ones posting that, may I speak with you for just a moment?

Yes, Jesus called us to action. He did. He said to go and make disciples. In his word, though many writers, he said to stand up for the defenseless (especially widows and orphans). Visit people in prison. Take care of the sick. Feed the hungry. Whatever you do to the least of these, that kind of thing.

However you feel about the Supreme Court's ruling on "gay marriage," allow me to assure you of this one thing: gay people are not your enemy. There is no epic, Cristendom-wide battle against them, or the culture, or any of it. We have one enemy, and that's Satan. He comes to kill, steal, and destroy. If you feel like you HAVE to act or you'll go crazy, I promise you that two people of the same gender getting married should not be your target. Likely, it will not affect you in the least, dire predictions aside.

If you want to be mad, and direct that anger at something productive, join Big Brothers/Big Sisters. Become a Court-Appointed Special Advocate. Go downtown and sit and have a thirty minute conversation with the marginalized transient. Visit a nursing home and take your kids. Volunteer to keep the kids of a single mom you know so she can get out for a while. Mow your elderly neighbor's yard. Find out what you can do to stop child trafficking. Go visit a random person in jail. See if there are opportunities to help out at an unplanned pregnancy center, or food kitchen, or organization that helps women transition out of the sex industry.

These people, good Christians, they NEED you.

You know what else? I need you.

I feel useless so often, unable to get a shower some second (or even third) days, because I have such a high needs baby. It breaks my heart to think that anyone who might have the time and righteous anger to spare is going after something that has been around for years and only now has an official seal of approval from the government (and, honestly, who cares about the government? I don't think it should license, approve, incentivize, or be any part of marriage in any way, but that's another subject).

So get out there. Show me how awesome it is. Then hound me, and make me realize that I *do* have time. I do. I need to get out there myself. I need to love more, and to serve more. And stop making excuses. And, frankly, to expect all of you to change so I can feel better about myself.

Believe me, I get you. I get that it hurts to think that your deity is being disregarded, but God doesn't need our defense. We're not called to defend "our" way or to stand up as a big bloc to the nations. The zealots expected that, and Rome was far worse than the US, but Jesus was apolitical. There was never any call to fight against the corrupt government or culture. Not one mention of it, by way of instruction or example.

Please stop predicting that this one thing is going to call down God's judgment on us as a nation. First of all, the United States isn't Israel, Part II; we don't have a covenant with God like they did. I don't know what God's "blessings" on our country that people are decrying will end even mean. Secondly, we've committed some government-sanctioned atrocities in the past 200 years, and we're still here. Genuine, robbing-of-freedom and taking-of-lives for no reason stuff. Actions that have pretended that every person is not a person bearing God's likeness. And we persist as a nation.

Even Rome managed to hang around for a good several hundred years after the death of Christ and ensuing persecution of Christians. And those WERE God's people, yet he didn't smite Rome. Those people just sat around and thought up torture for amusement. There is zero way that our country's atmosphere is worse or more deserving of divine punishment.

So don't worry, don't sound alarms that will make you... make us look foolish later.

Please.

If you're just so mad you feel like you have to do something, please do. But why not do something that will leave a legacy of love, so that maybe people will look back at this time in the future and say, "Wow, they really stepped up and helped change the culture." In a good way. In a way that people cannot deny is loving and helpful. Maybe even, "I did not expect that," with smiles on their faces?

Please.

Marriage and "work"

A very close friend of mine is getting married... well, right now, actually. So I've been thinking a lot about getting hitched lately, and today was reminded of this:

Mindy Kaling has an awesome chapter in her book "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?" called "Married People Need to Step It Up." She talks about how many "unhappily married" people she's met, particularly a guy she calls "Tim" who sees it as his mission in life to constantly harp on how difficult it is to be married.

"Tim is the kind of guy who corners you at a party to tell you, vehemently, that marriage is work. And that you have to work on it constantly. And that going to couple's therapy is not only normal but something everyone needs to do... He is convinced that his daily work on his marriage, and his acknowledgment that it is basically a living hell, is modern...

"C'Mon, married people. I don't want to hear about the endless struggles to keep sex exciting, or the work it takes to plan a date night. I want to hear that you guys watch every episode of The Bachelorette together in secret shame, or that one got the other hooked on Breaking Bad and if either watches it without the other, they're dead meat. I want to see you guys high-five each other like teammates on a recreational softball team you both do for fun. I want to hear about it because I know it's possible, and because I want it for myself.

"My parents get along because they are pals...I guess I think happiness can come in a bunch of forms, and maybe a marriage with tons of work makes people feel happy. But part of me still thinks...is it really so hard to make it work? What happened to being pals? ...And I'm not saying that marriage should always be easy. But we seem to get gloomily worked up about it these days."

In my experience (and, sadly, I've had too much of it), there are two distinct kinds of work that can comprise a marriage. To illustrate, let's say that our married couple is in a small boat, and their goal is to get as far upstream as they can manage.

In one boat, one person paddles consistently and enthusiastically toward the finish line. That person might have started off really enjoying the camaraderie and the view and even the challenge, but at some point realizes that they are losing ground rapidly and growing exhausted. Looking to the partner, the paddler realizes that the other person has affixed a motor to the boat and is not only propelling it with mechanical force in the opposite direction that they're supposed to be going, but is also actively trying to topple the boat.

"What are you doing? We're supposed to be going that way!"

"I know! So why aren't we? You must not be doing this right or we'd be getting closer instead of further away."

And it doesn't matter if the first points out to the second the obvious sabotage; there is no logic here. There is no cooperation. It's a constant fight. It's "work," but it's discouraging, heart-breaking, demeaning, draining work.

I don't believe this is the kind of "work" marriage is supposed to be in the long-term (yeah, we all have our moments, so there are seasons, for sure).

Now, here's the second kind of "work." The couple is in the boat together, both outfitted with paddles and heading in the same direction. They hit trouble spots and have to strategize, figure out their strengths, maybe even improvise tools with what they have on hand. Sometimes, they're extraordinarily successful in navigating the rough waters. Other times, the boat rocks and maybe even capsizes, but they both look out for each other, right things, and help the other scramble back aboard and try it again.

After a bit, the challenges they face together don't seem so daunting as they recognize the rhythms of their teamwork. They actually start to look forward to obstacles because it gives them a chance to tackle something important together.

Sometimes, it's no work at all, and they just get to look around and take in the scenery and marvel in it and each other. Other times, it's more intense, but the peace of being together, of having someone on whom to count, makes even the rough patches infinitely more enjoyable.

My friend who's getting married today? For him and his wife, I pray for the life-affirming work of the second example. He's good for it and he deserves it. Oh, and he will appreciate it, never taking it for granted.

I know this because of my own experience. James tells me sometimes that as much as some of our past relationships have sucked, it's honestly put us into a place where we can fully recognize and embrace what we have together.

The other day, I was telling my sister about different things that have happened that have helped me see that James is the perfect partner for me. She said she thought it the day she saw this picture:

I think I've posted this song before, but there's a line in it that I adore...

"One day I hope to find someone who doesn't mind being embarrassed by me all of the time."

When I told James that this summed up our relationship, he said he'd never be embarrassed by me. I believe him. Any time I have goofy ideas about which I tell him, like the shark picture above, his reaction is almost always, "That's AWESOME!"

While I don't believe in a "soul mate," I definitely know that there are people who are better suited to each other than some pairs might be. Let's face it; Some of us decide independently to choreograph a 5-minute dance to a showtune and whip it out at our 20th high school reunion. And that kind of thing is a lot better if the person who's supposed to love you the most in the world thinks it's fun and quirky and impressive rather than stupid and humiliating.

And some of us accidentally snort our straws up our noses when we're trying to hold a conversation, and those people need unconditional love and acceptance, too.

I am constantly overwhelmed by the blessings of my marriage, and I wish the same thing for my friend and his new wife. I wish it for all of you.

Another open letter...

Sometimes, when I hear a certain song, or I see an odd post on Facebook, or get into a conversation with someone about my story, I think about you. I thought about you last night, and my chest hurt a little bit and I hoped and prayed that your heart is at peace.

When I was going through a particularly rough time in my life, you reached out to me. You were asked to, and you did. You listened to me. Your advice was quiet and gentle. I appreciate all of those things. I have always appreciated you, and the smiles you have for everyone, and your gracious presence. You never demand attention. You are supportive and encouraging. You are a great example for me.

But you were wrong about one thing. At least you were wrong for me, and I hope to God that you were overstating the situation as it plays out in your life, too.

"... and... life pretty much sucks, anyway, so..."

You shrugged.

In absolute love, both for me and for Jesus, you gave me advice with this caveat.

But life *doesn't* suck.

It isn't supposed to.

It can be difficult. It can be senseless to our limited vision. It can be frustrating, and maddening, and hurtful, and exhausting. But, especially for those of us who try, however messily, to submit our lives to the Lord, there's always an undercurrent of peace that doesn't make sense. Of "abundant life" that has zero to do with how much money is in the bank, or how healthy we are, or anything that can be physically grasped.

Besides that, life can be beautiful, and unreasonably generous, and magical, and reassuring, and celebratory, and all of that.

When I wake up in the middle of the night, still holding hands with my husband, it strikes me how incredibly wonderful this life is.

When I look across the dining room table to see each member of my family trying to figure out which card to play next, I'm overwhelmed by the greatness of the here and now.

Oh, yes, I have a hope that goes beyond the temporary... but I also have a rich existence that is wondrous and glorious... and life *doesn't* "pretty much suck, anyway." It's miraculous moment after miraculous moment, and I hope I never take any of them for granted.

I sincerely wish for you that your words were not a genuine description of how you feel about your world. I want so much for you to experience the goodness of this life. I hope that you are.

His Grace Reaches Me

I've been struggling lately with the grand ideas of reconciliation, condemnation, forgiveness, repentance, and holiness. Sounds like fun, right?

After a hiatus of several years, I started back to Bible Study Fellowship last week, and this session, we're studying Matthew. It's one of those books that I've read over and over again, but something hit me this week that I hadn't noticed before: Salmon. I understand that it's odd that the genealogy in Matthew 1 includes women, and so when I've read that passage before, I've always focused on the women in the line. I never noticed before that Rahab's husband was named. Salmon.

I wondered about his story. According to this wonderful study of Rahab from Bible Gateway, Salmon was one of the spies sent into Jericho. That appears to be a Jewish tradition thing and I don't know whether I'd put much stock in it. Regardless of that, though, at some point, this fairly prominent Jew purposefully took a former prostitute and a former foreigner as his wife.

What hit me was that Rahab was not defined by her past, nor was she seen as a foreigner once she sided with the Jews. She was adopted into the tribe, and she was a part of them. That is huge, but the thing that overwhelmed me was just that it's one thing to have a group of people invite you into become a part of their family, but it's a whole other thing to have a single person pledge the rest of his life to you, regardless of where you've been.

When I was reading the text notes from BSF today, I cried all the way through the explanations of the five women included in the genealogy. Like Tamar, I have struggled with waiting for God to fulfill his promises; I have taken matters into my own hands, and used "sinful methods" (as the notes described Tamar's actions in deceiving her father-in-law) as a means to an end I still believe in. Like Rahab, I have heard of God's doings and have desperately wanted to be a part, even if I wasn't sure how to do it. Like "the former wife of Uriah," I have been married before. I have made sinful choices, and I have also been the subject of a LOT of calculated character defamation. I always wonder about Bathsheba: How much of a choice did she have? When the King of Israel calls for you, do you have the option of declining? Maybe she was flattered, or even attracted... But maybe she felt like the path of least resistance was the only option. Who knows. I guess we'll never know for sure, just like no one but a select few will ever know my whole story... but, dang, if people don't make opinions and label me, anyway. And, yes, I realize that a lot of this is my own fault. Hence the struggles...

For instance, I am convicted that I owe my ex-husband some apologies. And I wrestle with when and how that is appropriate. I like to think that I hold nothing against him, having forgiven him and wishing he'd forgive me, but any time I imagine an apology, it sounds an awful lot like blaming him for the wrongs I foisted upon him. So, clearly, I'm not ready for that yet.

I also live with the tension of knowing that there are people with whom I can never make amends. I can't fix things that happened, things that I did, mistakes I made, and hurts that were incurred as a part of that. I am a closure person. I like for things to be tidy and to make sense. And sometimes they don't. That whole "In as much as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone" verse? Sometimes, the only way to peace is to break fellowship, and that's the worst thing ever. It's one reason I take very personally "unfriending" on Facebook. If there's a problem, let's talk it over and fix it! Some things can't be fixed, and that's a difficult reality.

Adding to all of that is an outer condemnation. In the past, I was asked to do things to try to make circumstances right that I knew, because of my own involvement in my life, were not going to work. I know that, to others, I appeared to be rebellious, callous, cold, and stubborn. The truth is that I *am* stubborn and often rebellious. If I end a relationship, though, it is always after much trying and anxiety and attempts to reconcile, and then there is a point where I see that there is not any headway being made, and the only fix is out. When that happens, especially if you care a lot about a person, you kind of have to harden your own heart in order to separate from them. I've done that a few times in the past few years, and inevitably, I later soften... but I know that it was the right thing. Still, I wrestle with knowing that people think I'm a bad person, or a bad Christian. I know my heart, and God knows it, and we have worked through a lot of garbage in the past three years.

It was only after separating from everything and moving away that I was able to admit (at my first week of small group in Austin, no less, to a bunch of practical strangers) that I sometimes wish I'd just died when my testimony was awesome: Destroyed first marriage redeemed by later faithfulness and rich ministry through the arts. Second marriage past the point of no return turned around and enriched by God. Praise Him! He can work miracles!

And he can. And he does. But then... more happened. There were no closing credits, and things got bad... And I never doubted God's faithfulness. I certainly doubted my own. I certainly dealt with other people's guidance that I know was based on love for me and for the Scriptures but that was given without insight into the whole situation. I certainly disappointed a lot of people, and myself, and likely God...

But then this genealogy. It stands as a reminder that God takes messes and rebuilds lives into something of beauty. He's done it in my life over and over again. Standing at the end and looking back, that's the fun part. The slogging through the low times is not. It's excruciating. Especially when much of it is your own fault, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

The bloodlines of Mary and Joseph in Matthew and Luke stand as a reminder that God is in the business of doing his own will, and he uses who he wills. There might even still be a place in there for me.