I do not know where I belong.
I’m not quite comfortable in the religious realm. I think it’s my own fault; I simply don’t play the game well.
It caused some major, if carefully hidden, waves many years ago when my pastor and church board came in contact with the reality of my past. Theretofore, I’d been the dress-wearing, piano-playing, homeschooling young mother of a rather large number of children, married into a known-to-be-Christian family of the region. I had merely been a two-dimensional affirmation of the cloistered self-satisfaction with which we savour our religious comfort. I seem to have broken some kind of rule there.
Oops.
I don’t fit with grunge Christianity. I find the flaunting of pasts and carelessness toward sin rather disgusting. 
Post-modernism is pointless to me. We might as while be Pilate and spend our time shrugging and smirking, “What is truth?”
I have no patience for false accusations of legalism against those who don’t believe the search for truth is a buffet line. I am distinctly in favour of a conga line. You know, with a leader and lively music, and waving hands while all following along where the leader’s headed. It’s better for the figure.
Sadly, the ecumenists seem to believe I’m of the Antichrist.
I don’t fit with “conservative,” “fundamental” Christianity–when not wearing a dress, it’s likely to be a leather jacket and jeans. It is my heartfelt conviction that tough and cute go perfectly together in a wardrobe. My biker-chick boots have little hearts in the tread pattern. This is heresy either way you look at it.
I refuse to follow rules that can’t be shown to have consistently-reasoned biblical basis. I have two shameless words in my vocabulary that cause shunnings, both related to donkeys and their by-products. There remain times when the most upbuilding thing to do for another is to offer a succinct offensio a tergo. Only speak such a word as is fit for edification…that is my rule of grammar.
The staunch seem to believe I’m of the Antichrist too. I should probably fear what this means for my husband’s Bible conference involvement. Perhaps if I put on a meek face.
But I’m not very good at the cultural version of complementarianism either. I hear I’m supposed to be quiet; not engage men in theology talk in case I accidentally teach them something; clean the house; and not think very much about things not pertaining to child-raising and husband-serving. (For those on Twitter…yes, my fridge still needs cleaning. Thank you, whoever spilled such a fine mix of pickling juice and homemade relish.)
From what I can tell in my confusion, I don’t suit the various Christian cultural fads because I like hanging out with secular people (bad conservative!) without going along with secular behaviour (bad emerger!). I think it’s gross and pathetic for Christians to get drunk, when the Scripture they claim to be inspired by says outright not to. But I did my time walking wasted friends around the high-school hallways to sober up before class, and a glass of wine or a stout British half-pint doesn’t scare me.
Contemplating this state of affairs sheds a fair bit of light on what I am; as Conan Doyle would have it, when the impossible has been eliminated, whatever remains (however improbable) must be the truth. I’m just not sure where I might do best being it, in the long run. The only answer I have is, where I’ve been stuck. Seems a bit odd, but then it wasn’t up to me.
Healthy trees flex in a wind; dead ones break. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m just mostly dead. Maybe that’s the real problem; maybe it’s me. Inflexible. My mother warned me about a tendency toward that trait.
Thank goodness for shoots that spring from the hidden root, for the resurrection of trees.
I would like to be a tree planted by deep waters, that doesn’t lose its leaves in a drought, lends its shade in desert heat, and bears its fruit in season, come what may. A rather tough tree, with pretty flowers.
That, it seems to me, would belong.
Wow, it hadn’t occurred to me that Jeremiah had a matching verse to this: Psalm 1:3 He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
.
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.
Which is one of my favorites and beside Jermiah “I know the plans I have for you” on my kitchen wall, laminated so I don’t forget
And I recognize myself (or ourselves–Shamus and I since I tend to keep my mouth shut lest I start a fight, which I am prone to do when I don’t and sadly I do not handle fights well) in this. I keep, hoping no not hoping, recognizing that we ARE where He placed us because we keep checking just in case we have messed up. God eeps reaffirming where we are and why. Well, the why for our children’s sake despite people telling us “that other people need to be exposed to us so we need to GO to church for their sakes” –our response–we ARE the church so there is no “going” and God has us here for the time being. I suspect that maybe we set too many people’s consciences to discomfort (like not displaying your freedom to eat meat set bfore idols in front of a man who’s conscience is weak) with the freedoms He has given us. For instance in polite company I do not mention D&D and video games despite the fact that this is my husband’s lively hood because it sets too many people off kilter. Instead, God brings Christians to us who are ready to see that D&D is NOT evil and that it IS okay to have an occasional glass of wine (or in our case a nightly since I find it helps with my RA.) We are very careful not to burden people with “Thou shalt nots” and allow God to convict them instead (which, not surprisingly works SO much better.) God has told us over and over to “shut up”–in fact that is how I came over to reading the Bible–God told Shamus to shut up and stop arguing with me and 6 months later I was baptised in the Baptist church.
Ah, a book once again I see. Anyway, just wanted you to know that I see myself here, and Shamus too, and therefore you are part of a a group–some small part of the body of the church–maybe we are the eyelashes or somethng, trying to keep the fuzz out of the eyes.
Jer. 17 is my favourite of that prophet’s. I looked up the psalm but gravitated to dear ol’ Jerry.
“other people need to be exposed to us so we need to GO to church for their sakes”
Didn’t someone just tell Shamus that a couple of weeks ago? Sometimes I feel it’s like saying we should send our children to school as witnesses. There’s a flaw in the idea.
“I suspect that maybe we set too many people’s consciences to discomfort”
I think I’ve gotten frustrated at how so much random stuff is “idol meat.” Seems like everything is, when you get right down to it, and there’s no reason for it, just preference, and people are determined to be entrenched about it. But in that case, it’s not true idol meat, it’s a straw man, and I believe I should know better than to fall for those at my age.
“God brings Christians to us”
*wavewave*
I like your books.
And hey, eyelashes are both pretty and tough. I call eyelashes!
I too am a fan of Jeremiah–am wondering if he was quoting (trying to get my chronology back in my head–we are messed up on our reading and need to ge tback to it and I believe Psalm 1 prob came first and that Jeremiah would have been quoting the song so you might even consider them one and the same.) Sorry tangeant–my brain loves sideroads, esp about chronology and who quoted who.
I agree–often are strawmen but sometimes it is hard to discern when it is idol meat and when it is a straw man. Insteresting. Since we deal mostly with a group of old ladies with a few scattered men in my in-laws tiny, dying a slow death, Baptist church (the mega church we used to attend seems to be the Titanic so we hopped off before it went too far north) we find that our lives, in general, is just too much for them. We don’t actually attend (the presacher is a sweet, senile old man who spends an hour saying something that should take 5 mintues with lots of randomness jumbled in) but our kids choose to attend Sunday school there, which means they also stay for church, and they are an excellent witness to the fact that we, despite all the things we do that they think are “evil”–like going to bed at odd hours and using a computer oh-and reading nonKJV Bibles though I think they have given up on that one, must be doing something right.
And I agree that going for the sake of others is as flawed (and in a VERY similar way) to the kids needing to be “witnesses” in public school–Whaaa? My response is usually just being flaberghasted. Though I am finding, oddly enough, that the kids going to Sunday school (they are well ahead of all that is taught there but also take their DS’s to play with the other kids so they kow the Bible and what it means but also know how to have fun unlike most of the kids I have seen like that) is actually allowing them to BE witnesses of a sort to the other kids who come to church. And there ARE now kids coming to the church whereas when the kids started going there weren’t.
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I always knew I liked you, Cathy. From a theological standpoint, we have much in common. Some people are just donkey’s behinds and the true magnitude of their behind-ness cannot be communicated with the word behind.
This is the beauty of growing older. I find myself less concerned with how I fail to live up to their non-biblical expectations.
God is so much bigger than this and that nit-picking. He created it all and I believe He loves it when all the styles come back to Him in worship and gifts.
How did your garden grow this summer?
Denise!! It’s been a dog’s age! You have made my day. ((big hug))
My garden is in summerfallow. Erm. Did I mention we got a sailboat? It’s going to be a balancing act next year…
pssst ….. you’re not supposed to fit in.
You’re just passing through :0)
See you where we both fit in, Cat xxx
See you there, fellow traveller. :~)
Oh, my goodness, gals, like everybody I ever wanted to keep in touch with from HSB days has popped by! Now we’re just missing Julie, who introduced me to this song, btw.
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Jackie: Right on.
Mrs. Burns: It is getting easier as we get older (today I turn 35 and it is amazing how much easier it is than it used to be.
)
I am here… I am here… I am here. I feel like Horton. Cat, you already know that I don’t fit in. As I age, I am more comfortable with that role. Other times, I want to move all my like minded friends into a co-housing community. Do you think we would grow as well if we insulated ourselves?
I love this song!
We’re better scattered, aren’t we, somehow? Most of you are from the States, but Jackie and I are not, and if writer friend Grace happens by, well, she’s on the bottom of the world…or maybe the top, since it looks to be one of the most beautiful places on the planet.
I don’t know about the rest who’ve moved away from HSB, but I ended up striking out on my own, not because I disliked the community or the people at all, but simply because it did feel closed.
It’s not a place where a bunch of atheists would come bumbling in trumpeting their assumptions about one’s background, or where one would earn their respect by threatening an ass-kicking. I *need* that. I need it for the laugh and the vitality of it. Cloistering seems to foster the search for a “move of God” instead of getting down to the business of being one.
I still love and miss my church, and I respect the institution for what it is; I just have too strong and too restless a personality for a small congregation.
Oh, I forgot to add…
for Jackie, my oldest daughter’s middle name is Sojourner.
I find the best way to deal with a straw man is to carry a lighter.
Oh yeah, this isn’t me, this is him (Dave) 
Note to self: Remind husband to use his own browser, or get in the habit of logging out when leaving chair for more than 30 seconds.
“I have two shameless words in my vocabulary that cause shunnings, both related to donkeys and their by-products.”
I don’t want to interrupt girls’ night out, but this just really reminds me of 2 PET 2:16 in the KJV
“But was rebuked for his iniquity: the dumb ass speaking with man’s voice forbad the madness of the prophet.”
There’s always a dumbass right where God finds one useful.
(I do make a policy of restricting myself to the comments, at least. *feeling incorrigible*)
Hardly an interruption, since Dave already hijacked my avatar once…
Gals, Marc from the Areopagus, a welcome addition with a wide education in John Cleese; and a proven instigator.
You know what? Pamela. Three for Thee. That’s who we’re still missing.
I gave up on HSB for good after we moved from the city to the country and I had farm life all day long, every day. It’s one thing to blog about a homestead when farming only on the weekends; it was altogether over the top to blog about the dailiness of it all. It wore me out.
It was a nice little corner of the cyberworld, tho, and I made some friends I probably won’t ever meet irl but will rejoice with them in heaven when the time comes.
I’ve been reading this blog for several months pretty regularly but never had time or inclination to comment on a particular post. Glad to know you missed me!
My granny had only one of those words you spoke about and it was the droppings one. I loved to hear her say it b/c by the time it came out of her mouth, things were so bad I needed the laugh!
“It was a nice little corner of the cyberworld”
Yeah. I popped back the other day to see who’s still around, it was an oddly wistful feeling. My kids are so totally using it as an educational project, probably going to start this year. It has the feel of a big playground with a community of parents where you can let your children socialize and roam a bit without having to check in.
I’d hate to be the one to wreck that for someone
“My granny had only one of those words you spoke about and it was the droppings one.”
Dave’s mom, likewise, and once nearly made a pastor’s wife fall out of her chair. Ohhh, mother….
“and a proven instigator.”
I’m still on my very best behavior, but this admission of yours in this post may loosen Quixote up a bit.
Don’t know where I belong….check
Not comfortable in religious realm…check (can fool people, though)
reality of my past…check
Conan Doyle…check (thanks for not attributing it to Spock)
I was grand friends with the coke addict long before the humanistic utopian pointy-eared space dude.
Hi, Cat! So nice of you to think of me! Yes, I haven’t blogged on HSB for a loooong time, but that’s just because I haven’t blogged. A couple days ago I mused on this, and the best I can figure is that we started attending a church where I’ve found true fellowship. Since it was the fellowship that kept me hooked on blogging, I’ve found that I don’t gravitate to it that much anymore.
Besides!!! It’s like your grammar rule: “Only speak such a word as is fit for edification”. Too often the stuff I’d like to blog is in response to a conflict I’ve had with someone who probably still reads my blog. Like my mom and my sister. I hardly think that they would be edified by a monologue spelling out how wrong they can be. LOL
I also feel like my responsibilities are draining the creative energy from me. Ironic, because one of my responsibilities today has been to arrange a hymn for an amateur orchestra. It’s just not what I’d like to be doing.
But I’ve got to go back to it now. See you ’round!
Heyyy! Pamela! Now my day is complete, and I shall go to bed all warm and fuzzy-like.
“A couple days ago I mused on this, and the best I can figure is that we started attending a church where I’ve found true fellowship.”
That is awesome, and to be treasured.
“I hardly think that they would be edified by a monologue spelling out how wrong they can be. LOL”
Oh, too funny…well, from where I’m sitting…
“I also feel like my responsibilities are draining the creative energy from me. ”
Yep, I know what you mean. I can write *or* keep a clean house.
I do miss your kids’ music clips, and the well-placed, creatively unique photos at the top of the posts. Very glad for Facebook.
OK; maybe I need to get my own WordPress account. I don’t have glasses, and I usually don’t wear a tie.
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