it's been one of those days. i went to a meeting an hour early just because i got confused and forgot what time it was supposed to be.
a boy crashed our girls-night-glee-watching party. stupid boys.
i woke up with a killer sore throat and had to cancel a coffee date with a friend i've been trying to hang out with for 7 weeks now.
it's week SEVEN of the quarter. where does the time go?
we had a meeting at work yesterday. my position requires a LOT more sales now than it used to, and i HATE that. to the tune of dreading going to work tomorrow.
i'm really sad that i may not be able to leave the country to do my practicum. i can't figure out how to fit it into my degree plan to split it, and i plain can't afford it.
i was painfully reminded that this year, i can't inquire about my friends' thanksgiving plans. argh.
i did enjoy pizza with my lifegroup for dinner. :-)
and the mat kearney concert last night was killer.
it was WARM today when i got to sit outside with hanne, who face-hugs.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Sunday, November 08, 2009
hurt by the church
when we say we've been "hurt by the church", what do we really mean? the church is just people, right? do we really mean that we've been hurt by pastors, those in positions of authority within specific congregations? are we hurt because people within the church have hurt us and leaders stood idly by and let that hurt happen? or created structures that allowed that hurt to happen? or knew about it and didn't stop it? part of me is really wondering, part of me is wanting to really look at my own experiences and how i describe them.
i say that i've been hurt by my "the church". but really, i mean that i've been hurt by members of that church. a situation occurred and others jumped in to help the affected person. and in the process, i was hurt. and really, my hurt seemed illegitimate and petty. so then i felt ashamed that i was hurt. and i was angry and embarrassed, and i felt that i didn't have the right to feel that way. so i was angry with myself for responding so selfishly in being hurt. and no one checked in on me, or in any way validated my hurt or even addressed it. or any of my emotions, really, that were by now, way over the top. i had so much self-hatred that i'm sure it affected me in ways i don't even understand to this day.
i was talking to a friend today about this topic, and as she was sharing her story of being hurt but the pastor taking good care of her. it was a very redemptive, restorative, healing moment for her. i started crying in realizing that i haven't had anything of the sort, nor am i even brave enough to bring it up. all of this happened so long ago in the past, yet i am still ashamed of how i felt. and i'm probably ashamed even now of how i dealt with it (or didn't deal with it, i didn't know how).
but how is that "hurt by the church"? did i let anyone know what was going on? the situation was carried out in good faith by others, but it still affected me. it wasn't exactly a ministry of the church (nothing official), but it was clear that the relational bounds of those involved only existed because of the friendships formed through the church. is that enough to classify "the church"? or is it that no one else stepped in to help? or could they have? what is it that i am really holding against "the church"?? i'm not really sure, but i'm standing my ground.
and God, heal my heart.
i say that i've been hurt by my "the church". but really, i mean that i've been hurt by members of that church. a situation occurred and others jumped in to help the affected person. and in the process, i was hurt. and really, my hurt seemed illegitimate and petty. so then i felt ashamed that i was hurt. and i was angry and embarrassed, and i felt that i didn't have the right to feel that way. so i was angry with myself for responding so selfishly in being hurt. and no one checked in on me, or in any way validated my hurt or even addressed it. or any of my emotions, really, that were by now, way over the top. i had so much self-hatred that i'm sure it affected me in ways i don't even understand to this day.
i was talking to a friend today about this topic, and as she was sharing her story of being hurt but the pastor taking good care of her. it was a very redemptive, restorative, healing moment for her. i started crying in realizing that i haven't had anything of the sort, nor am i even brave enough to bring it up. all of this happened so long ago in the past, yet i am still ashamed of how i felt. and i'm probably ashamed even now of how i dealt with it (or didn't deal with it, i didn't know how).
but how is that "hurt by the church"? did i let anyone know what was going on? the situation was carried out in good faith by others, but it still affected me. it wasn't exactly a ministry of the church (nothing official), but it was clear that the relational bounds of those involved only existed because of the friendships formed through the church. is that enough to classify "the church"? or is it that no one else stepped in to help? or could they have? what is it that i am really holding against "the church"?? i'm not really sure, but i'm standing my ground.
and God, heal my heart.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
thoughts from my ethics class
this week in Christian Ethics, we have been discussing race and ethnicity. oh, and sexuality, but that's a different story.
at least half of the class today could be summed up by this quote:
"If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come here because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together." -Lilla Watson
it was a great discussion. as i was listening to the class around me, i was reminded of this quote but couldn't remember it verbatim, so i googled it. i came across a blog that used it, and i read the whole post. i have no idea who this person is, or where she is, or what her background, or what work she is doing. so taking everything she has said at face value, i really appreciated her thoughts on international community development and the sense of superiority that we, as americans, often have in other countries. her post can be found here, and here is an excerpt that rang true with me (tho my story is quite different from hers):
"I will expound on that question in another blog [How do you empower people to help themselves when they have absolutely nothing to work from??], but currently, I am confronting some fundamental issues on the structure of our work here. Although we are from impacted community ourselves, we (us folks from the US) still come from privilege being from America. Being of color does not, by any means, put us on the same playing field as the people here. We are all very aware that our 1st world status gives us economic and educational privilege. Yet, we are unique in that, for example, both Nadia and Jon, who are both African Americans from the South can claim that black southerners experience poverty and neglect that resembles the discrepancy between the Acholis and the rest of Uganda. I feel a strong connection to this work through my connection to my roots, the struggles of my father’s family, my experience being bi-racial and the daughter of an immigrant, and my previous traveling experiences. I connect the experience of my father’s family growing up in the Philippines, the struggles of Filipinos in the Philippines and in other countries (discrimination, marginalization, domestic violence.. etc), the struggles I’ve witnessed amongst the peoples in other developing communities to my work here. Therefore, this work becomes personal, and as I have travelled and made connections with people living in the Ukraine, Thailand, Nepal, Egypt, and Ecuador – the urgent need to transcend race, ethnicity, religion, nationality to unite on a global front to work for social justice becomes even more pressing. My identity is no longer limited to my family, friends, ethnicity, or nationality – it transcends and includes all those I have connected with in all those places. I am no longer just obligated to care for people in my immediate community, city, or country – I am obligated to work for change that includes all whom I have met along the way and all those whom I have yet to meet and those whom I will never meet. Their struggles are bound up in mine and my liberation can only be found through theirs."
This was essentially the point in the readings our quiz was on this week, and it was great to hear someone's firsthand experience leading them to the same conclusion.
at least half of the class today could be summed up by this quote:
"If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come here because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together." -Lilla Watson
it was a great discussion. as i was listening to the class around me, i was reminded of this quote but couldn't remember it verbatim, so i googled it. i came across a blog that used it, and i read the whole post. i have no idea who this person is, or where she is, or what her background, or what work she is doing. so taking everything she has said at face value, i really appreciated her thoughts on international community development and the sense of superiority that we, as americans, often have in other countries. her post can be found here, and here is an excerpt that rang true with me (tho my story is quite different from hers):
"I will expound on that question in another blog [How do you empower people to help themselves when they have absolutely nothing to work from??], but currently, I am confronting some fundamental issues on the structure of our work here. Although we are from impacted community ourselves, we (us folks from the US) still come from privilege being from America. Being of color does not, by any means, put us on the same playing field as the people here. We are all very aware that our 1st world status gives us economic and educational privilege. Yet, we are unique in that, for example, both Nadia and Jon, who are both African Americans from the South can claim that black southerners experience poverty and neglect that resembles the discrepancy between the Acholis and the rest of Uganda. I feel a strong connection to this work through my connection to my roots, the struggles of my father’s family, my experience being bi-racial and the daughter of an immigrant, and my previous traveling experiences. I connect the experience of my father’s family growing up in the Philippines, the struggles of Filipinos in the Philippines and in other countries (discrimination, marginalization, domestic violence.. etc), the struggles I’ve witnessed amongst the peoples in other developing communities to my work here. Therefore, this work becomes personal, and as I have travelled and made connections with people living in the Ukraine, Thailand, Nepal, Egypt, and Ecuador – the urgent need to transcend race, ethnicity, religion, nationality to unite on a global front to work for social justice becomes even more pressing. My identity is no longer limited to my family, friends, ethnicity, or nationality – it transcends and includes all those I have connected with in all those places. I am no longer just obligated to care for people in my immediate community, city, or country – I am obligated to work for change that includes all whom I have met along the way and all those whom I have yet to meet and those whom I will never meet. Their struggles are bound up in mine and my liberation can only be found through theirs."
This was essentially the point in the readings our quiz was on this week, and it was great to hear someone's firsthand experience leading them to the same conclusion.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
a little follow up.
i didn't even realize it, but The Semi, the weekly campus publication, has been highlighting recovery ministry for the last 2 weeks. my friend elijah wrote an article for it, which he posted on his blog, Wish You Were Here. check it out.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
confessions and heros
i have a confession to make:
i haven't always had the best attitude about or toward "recovery ministry." in fact, i've been downright snobbish and condescending, at least in my heart if not forthright. my thought has been along the lines of "i'm not like those people. they just needed more self-control and discipline from the start. it's their own fault they now need Alcoholic Anonymous (or any other recovery ministry or support group)".
whether or not there is any truth at all to these statements, it's a terrible place for me to be. by saying these things (or thinking them), i'm judging people i don't know and somehow reaching a false conclusion. my attitude suggests that i limit the grace i extend, and i also don't believe i am in need of the same grace.
at some point this summer, in the midst of the craziness, i read an article about people of a certain age having mid-life crises. the circumstances of their lives were pretty terrible, and it compared two groups of those people: those who were alcoholics and had participated in a group like AA, and those who weren't/hadn't. the results were surprising, at least to me. i would have thought that in times that rough, the recovering addicts would go back to their addictions to numb the pain. what actually happened was that they reached out for help. they knew they couldn't face the circumstances by themselves, and AA had taught them that they needed a support system to help them through the rough times. the ones who hadn't been through AA withdrew and didn't reach out for help.
a year or three later, the study caught up with both sets of people. the recovering addicts had more stable and fulfilling lives than their counterparts who thought they could endure independently.
this one article highlighted my own need for community. i couldn't have faced my rough circumstances alone. i had reached the end of myself, the end of my ability to endure, the end of my self-sufficiency. i needed to reach out and ask for help, and i did. it was the first in a series of lessons on community that God has been teaching me.
but at the same time, that was a realization, to me, of the importance and legitimacy of recovery ministries. don't get me wrong, i know they are amazing and have a place, but i didn't see their importance to me at all.
so tonight, i went to a halloween party. i got off work a bit early, so i was able to swing by a friend's place for his party. my friend is a recovering alcoholic and addict. he lives in an apartment connected to a half-way house. it was a small gathering (at least for the few minutes i was there), and all the other guests were also recovering _______s. i gathered that most of them had been sober for a while and were also leaders of AA or NA.
i wasn't able to stay for long, but their conversation astounded me. i realized the tenacity, endurance, and sorrows of their fight. they mentioned a friend who had overdosed and died last week. that's not common in my circle of friends, and yet these friends embraced the news with grace and resolve to keep the same fate from others they know. they mentioned coworkers who were finding the help they needed. i was amazed by the fierceness of the fight they fight everyday for their friends and loved ones. the trials, pains, and temptations they must have endured to 1) need something like AA in the first place; 2) get sober; 3) stay sober; and 4) fight for and alongside others is beyond me. i'm sure i couldn't even get past stage one.
they amazed me, and i am humbled by their endurance and passion. tho i used to think those people were beneath me, i now realize it is quite the other way around. and i am so blessed to know them. they are my new heroes.
i haven't always had the best attitude about or toward "recovery ministry." in fact, i've been downright snobbish and condescending, at least in my heart if not forthright. my thought has been along the lines of "i'm not like those people. they just needed more self-control and discipline from the start. it's their own fault they now need Alcoholic Anonymous (or any other recovery ministry or support group)".
whether or not there is any truth at all to these statements, it's a terrible place for me to be. by saying these things (or thinking them), i'm judging people i don't know and somehow reaching a false conclusion. my attitude suggests that i limit the grace i extend, and i also don't believe i am in need of the same grace.
at some point this summer, in the midst of the craziness, i read an article about people of a certain age having mid-life crises. the circumstances of their lives were pretty terrible, and it compared two groups of those people: those who were alcoholics and had participated in a group like AA, and those who weren't/hadn't. the results were surprising, at least to me. i would have thought that in times that rough, the recovering addicts would go back to their addictions to numb the pain. what actually happened was that they reached out for help. they knew they couldn't face the circumstances by themselves, and AA had taught them that they needed a support system to help them through the rough times. the ones who hadn't been through AA withdrew and didn't reach out for help.
a year or three later, the study caught up with both sets of people. the recovering addicts had more stable and fulfilling lives than their counterparts who thought they could endure independently.
this one article highlighted my own need for community. i couldn't have faced my rough circumstances alone. i had reached the end of myself, the end of my ability to endure, the end of my self-sufficiency. i needed to reach out and ask for help, and i did. it was the first in a series of lessons on community that God has been teaching me.
but at the same time, that was a realization, to me, of the importance and legitimacy of recovery ministries. don't get me wrong, i know they are amazing and have a place, but i didn't see their importance to me at all.
so tonight, i went to a halloween party. i got off work a bit early, so i was able to swing by a friend's place for his party. my friend is a recovering alcoholic and addict. he lives in an apartment connected to a half-way house. it was a small gathering (at least for the few minutes i was there), and all the other guests were also recovering _______s. i gathered that most of them had been sober for a while and were also leaders of AA or NA.
i wasn't able to stay for long, but their conversation astounded me. i realized the tenacity, endurance, and sorrows of their fight. they mentioned a friend who had overdosed and died last week. that's not common in my circle of friends, and yet these friends embraced the news with grace and resolve to keep the same fate from others they know. they mentioned coworkers who were finding the help they needed. i was amazed by the fierceness of the fight they fight everyday for their friends and loved ones. the trials, pains, and temptations they must have endured to 1) need something like AA in the first place; 2) get sober; 3) stay sober; and 4) fight for and alongside others is beyond me. i'm sure i couldn't even get past stage one.
they amazed me, and i am humbled by their endurance and passion. tho i used to think those people were beneath me, i now realize it is quite the other way around. and i am so blessed to know them. they are my new heroes.
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