Faith, Religion and the Church

Last night after a prayer and conversation about God using both male and female pronouns to refer to God with my seven-year-old son he said, “I think God is both a boy and a girl. One side has a pony tail and the other side has a mullet.” I was so proud of my son I shared it on facebook.

Humor added here!

I was then challenged by my cousin to prove my understanding of God with scripture.

Though I am a seminary student, I do not like to engage in Bible verse competitions. Being in the United Church of Christ however, we often find ourselves having to defend our interpretation of scripture. And lucky for me, I didn’t have to come up with a single verse, others did that for me.

I was raised in the church, but I didn’t have much interest in it. My mom had to make me go. However, that did not mean that I didn’t have a relationship with God. We were actually already quite tight when I was a youth. I only recently realized that my understanding of God as a being of light and energy that encompasses both male and female characteristics has been my understanding as a long as I can remember. To me, it was just the way I knew God to be. The only way I can describe the relationship is that I can feel God always walking along side me and if I need clarification I will literally ask.

So when I discerned my call to ministry, I literally asked “what am I supposed to be doing?” I heard God, but I didn’t like the answer. God had sent another human being to say, “I think God is telling me that you have the gift for ministry.” And I responded with becoming a department lead at Kmart. And as I walked that path I could feel the weight of my invisible back pack get heavier. So when I finally allowed myself to not only hear God, but to follow God, another human was sent again to tell me that I am worthy and capable of representing God, and I finally listened. And the backpack was gone.

The truth is I was actually afraid to go to seminary because I was afraid that this relationship I have with God would be disproved when I read scripture. In the past I would read scripture and say, I don’t understand that, I don’t believe that. I would doubt myself as a Christian when I struggled with the words in the Bible. Then I realized that the only thing between me and scripture were the words selected. I know that when I refer to God as he or she, I don’t actually mean either, but I don’t have any other language to describe God.

When I was finally able to listen to God and to trust that I understood what God was calling me to do, I was able to read scripture with a new understanding. See, I was worried that my relationship with God was wrong and that a right way to interpret scripture exists. The reality is there is no person on earth that completely understands God. Our human minds cannot adequately understand nor do we have the words to adequately describe. When it comes to interpreting scripture there is no right or wrong; winner or loser.

Religions and churches can claim they have the only answer because we in American have an obsession with winning. I’m not concerned about being right. I’m concerned with how we act as Christians with other people. When I sit in my church I know that we don’t all agree on theology. What is amazing about being in a church like that is we can mostly agree and sometimes disagree but still love and accept one another as brothers and sisters in Christ.

So therefore, I will not dispute over words. If you try to find God merely in scripture without forming a relationship with God, you have religion. Scripture is a tool we have to understand that God exists. What really matters is our faith.  If you truly sit with God and listen to what God puts into your heart, you will understand scripture. When you truly give God your time and attention you will understand your faith. If you then understand God to be a man or if you then understand God is both boy and girl with a pony tail and a mullet, who am I to question you? 

The Pastor with Purple Hair

My hair is constantly changing.

My friend Bob shared my last blog post on his facebook page and included in his comment was “I think the world needs more pastors with purple hair.”

I’ll be honest and say that I am concerned about being judged over my hair. Though my fellow congregants remind me of how my hair is what makes me Julie and I agree, I wonder in what ways it could stop me.

Me outside my dorm room.

My relationship with my hair began in college. While most college freshman were partying, going out, drinking and all the other things that goes with that type of fun, I “acted out” and “experimented” with my hair. I would have my friend put pink streaks in my very otherwise boring hair. I thought it looked cool but hair dye from Hot Topic is not my idea of cool hair now.

After college when I had to get a real job the pink hair died. So then I began experimenting with all kinds of regular colors that I paid a professional to do; different styles, different cuts, different highlights, different streaks. I tried it all. I really wasn’t doing much self reflection at the time so I don’t really know why, other than it fit my personality because I get bored doing the same old thing.

Short with streaks.

When I was a stay-at-home mom and seriously doing my Mary Kay business, I started experimenting with the not so natural colors again but with professionals. I know one of the reasons were because I was starting to feel old and going back to my college years where I discovered myself made me feel young again. Another reason was because in Mary Kay we talked about image; how we never knew when a selling opportunity would take place and if you tried to run into the store without your Mary Kay on, you’d always get caught. It was then that I made sure to always be “dressed for success” when I left the house and I still continue to do so.

Brown with one pink stripe.

Now that I am more focused on offering God’s grace than offering someone a makeover, I still prepare as if I was going to makeover someone. I had to really reflect on why that it is so. Becoming a pastor is not about putting on a fashion show or being entertaining. What it does for me is to build my confidence in knowing that I am prepared to makeover one’s heart.

Black with blue stripes.

If I ran out of the house with no makeup and my hair in a pony tail, I would give myself an excuse to avoid others; to avoid getting caught in a conversation.

Blonde with purple and pink.

What I’ve found about my purple, teal, blue and pink hair is that it does two things. It starts conversations with total strangers and it sometimes leads to conversations that mean something to people. The other day, I met a parent at my son’s school who started talking to me about my hair but ended up telling me all about how she adopted her son and all the things he is struggling with.  The most important thing that I think my hair does is that it sends the message to others that I’m not going to judge; that I have an open mind and an open heart.

My fellow congregant,
JoAnne put a little
purple in her hair!

And if I’m right that this all starts because of my hair, this soon to be pastor with purple hair will keep on dying.

Saying Goodbye

The last time I spoke to my dad was on Christmas Eve. While we were there he was wide awake. My seven-year-old Aydin gave him more hugs than usual and talked to him more than he played his video game. I sat by his side and we mostly just stared at each other because I guess there wasn’t anything more to say. I know that all my dad wanted was for God to call him home. The next time I saw him, he was no longer responsive and by the 28^th he quickly slipped away. I feel blessed that God took him before the dementia took his mind completely away from him; that he didn’t have to go through anything more than he already had. 

I still hurt. I hurt because it is one less person to love me. How selfish of me, but it’s true. In my selfishness, I’ve realized that I’ve been so concerned with how I love other people, I haven’t allowed or expected anyone to love me. On Sunday, I broke down twice. The first time Aydin came into my room to hug me and get me tissue. The second time, my nine-year-old Austin came into the kitchen and hugged me too. Later I realized that I feel like for the first time in Austin and Aydin’s life, they realized that I have feelings. The more I thought about it, I realized that I don’t think they are the only ones.

I realized that perhaps more people think of me as a “minister” already, a thought that never occurred to me before. Because in their attempts to console me, they were really just telling me about the grief they have experienced. And in response I am trying to give them encouraging words, when I really want to say is "I am hurting too." 

As I am trying to listen for what God needs me to hear, I realize that this life to come as a minister is going to be more of what I am experiencing at this moment. That I will be focused on loving other people and they will forget that I too have feelings. Perhaps they think I am God’s super woman and my faith is enough. Today there is no one who will call and ask how I am doing and will truly want a real answer, there is no one to sit by my side even if no words are said and there is no one to offer to bring over a meal so I don’t end up ordering take out for two weeks straight, and they certainly won’t be there tomorrow.  

Am I able to take on the life of a minister that loves her flock beyond what she will receive? I guess it seems as though I have already been living that life. God, I’m still listening.

Dad, I’m glad you are where you wanted to be, but I miss you. I miss how much you loved me.

Thankful for Life

In honor of Thanksgiving I would like to express my gratitude for the life of my father, Benjamin Greenwaldt. When I entered this world, my dad was fifty years old. I like to say that I was the best surprise my parents ever got. I can vaguely remember my toddler years where he would comb my hair and rock me in the rocking chair while he sang me old country songs. As a young boy, my father worked on his family farm and only received an eighth grade education in order to help his family. As a father, my dad worked hard to provide for my mom and us kids. I remember getting up early to have cereal with him before he left for his shift at Chrysler. Then I would go back to bed. He retired when I was twelve years old. I was a little bit of a tom boy. We used to fish and catch night crawlers. We spent summers camping and visiting relatives in Minnesota and North Dakota. We spent a lot of time in Wisconsin too. He taught me how to drive and trusted me with independence. He dabbed my tears with his handkerchief on my wedding day and held my newborn children.

The blessing of having 6 years of retired life with my dad does not come without a price, however. This awesome story is filled with battles of cancers, heart disease, surgeries and almost deadly allergic reactions. And sadly, this awesome story is about to end soon.

You see, my whole life most people assumed my parents were my grandparents and I was well aware of their age. I secretly plotted my back up plan of what sibling I was going to go live with when my parents died. And as each year passed and that didn’t happen, I would thank God and ask for just a little more time.  Now, asking for more time isn’t needed anymore, because he has been there for every moment I could have ever imagined.

My dad, now eighty-four is in hospice care. He says he’s ready to go and that he’s lived a good life. He has fought every illness that has ever attacked him and won, but now his body is no longer able to fight. 

Somehow, I’m at peace with it. At first I wasn’t sure why I am not so shook up, emotional or distraught. Then I thought it was because it was something that I had been preparing for a long while. Then Sunday night it hit me. As I read Luther’s commentary on Romans for my History of Christian Thought class, I read, “Faith is a living, unshakable confidence in God’s grace.” 

Faith is why I am able to watch his once strong body become frailer and paler by the day. Faith is why I don’t break down at the possibility it might be his last hug. And faith is why I have no fears of what tomorrow will bring.

Thank you God, for being a God of never ending grace.  

The Cost of Education

Now that I plan on hopefully working for God one day soon as a minister, I am starting to wonder what Jesus would say about the cost of higher education in this country and the 7% interest on student loans.

Student debt is now over $1 trillion dollars, higher than all credit card debt combined. With good-paying jobs getting more and more scarce, the real "cost" of student debt is getting higher and higher.

The Bible actually talks a lot about money.  For the borrower you must pay back, but for the lender, they should not accrue interest. Ezekiel 18: 7-9 “[if a man]does not oppress anyone, but restores to the debtor his pledge, commits no robbery, gives his bread to the hungry and covers the naked with a garment, does not take advance or accrued interest, withholds his hand from iniquity, executes true justice between contending parties, follows my statues, and is careful to observe my ordinances, acting faithfully-such a one is righteous; he shall surely live, says the Lord God.”

But for most student borrowers today, that is far from the case.

Actually, I am one of the “lucky ones.” When I was filling out my FAFSA’s as an undergrad my dad had been retired for 5 years so I got a lot of grant money. I graduated only $14,000 in debt. However, I’ve been paying on it for over 10 years and I still owe $7,000. 

As a seminary student, I plan to add a minimum of $45,000 on to my total of $7,000. Though I feel deeply called to minister it took me two years to be able to accept that in order to attend seminary I will never get out of student loan debt nor be able to afford to help my children with their own college. Logically it sounds like the stupidest and most selfish thing to ever do, but my calling is too strong to ignore it. And getting into seminary was the first thing that I actually needed that BA for.

What this country is really doing is making it near impossible for the lower and middle class to ever advance economically. It continues to create a hierarchy of people and promote a love of power and money.

Students need to demand action from the government and get the cost of education lowered or at the very least the interest rates lowered on student loans. Making money on education is not very righteous and private companies especially are making a killing on interest and penalties.

There are companies like Wells Fargo that are working with borrowers to help lower payments and offer a temporary 1% interest. And even though it has been said that bankruptcy does not wipe out student loans, according to Wells Fargo it can decrease them. But we not only need temporary relief we need permanent solutions.   Congress does have the power to open doors now closed to those drowning in student loan debt; they just have to open them.

Students and graduates also need to demand action from their religious communities.

And as for me, I plan to preach and teach about debt and how central 'forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors' was to the ministry of Jesus.

  

Islamaphobia: Fear verses Love

Islamophobia is a new term, invented in the twentieth century to describe unreasoning prejudice or fear of Muslims. That's right; we need to invent new vocabulary to describe "an outlook or world-view involving an unfounded dread and dislike of Muslims, which results in practices of exclusion and discrimination." 

Yet, every Sunday morning at my church we begin service with our welcome message. The welcome message is a call and response that verbally says who we mean by all when we say all are welcome. The fourth call and response says: “Leader: You are welcome here if your people are from this place, or a different place. Congregation: For our God is both here and everywhere.”

Today, as Christians we need to live into that call even more powerfully.

I often don’t want to be called a Christian because of what that word can mean to many people, words that I certainly am not. Words like anti-gay, money hungry and judgmental. And now, Islamophobic.

Following the 9/11 attacks, Islamaphobia made its appearance and is once again in full force with the rise of ISIS. Some people associate ISIS with all people of the Muslim faith. That is a stereotype that is far misguided. The internet and social media now make it difficult to stop Islamaphobia because it gives a “voice” to those opinions. It is considered freedom of speech because there are no laws that prevent religious hatred.

The fear of Muslims is generated by ISIS using the media to promote its message.  The fear they encourage then generates hate. But hate does not solve anything, it just creates more hate. And they do it because fear works.

As a Christian pluralist, I believe we can only fight fear with love. 1 John 4:18: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love.” We can search for more answers, but to put it simply all God asks of us is to love. And God means everyone. Though it may seem simple, it is not. Because everyone means the people that are not like you, that do not think like you and do not believe the same things you believe. 1 John 4:21: “The commandment is we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.”

The good news is there is still love in the world.

Earlier this month Tasnim Nazeer, a Muslim freelance journalist wrote an article about how she was encouraged by a Canadian social experiment. The experiment consisted of two actors who were secretly being recorded at a bus stop doing a scene where the Islamophobe actor was asking the Muslim actor to not get on the bus because he might have bombs strapped to him. The other people came to the actor’s defense telling the man that he couldn’t judge someone by their clothes, religion or nationality. The social experiment ended with the Islamophobe actor getting punched in the face by a Canadian sticking up for the Muslim actor. 

Now, punching people in the face is not the best way to express one's defense to the persecuted. We need to be passionate defenders, without the violence, in order to turn our societies around. 

As a Christian, it is my job to speak up for justice; would you?

The Voice of Silenced Women

At family dinner tonight my seven-year-old son started a conversation about a story he read that he never knew the character’s names. “I read the whole thing and all they said was he and she.” As an exhausted seminary student I chimed in, “It sounds like the Bible. Half the women don’t get names.” My nine-year-old son asks “They don’t get names in the Bible?” My father-in-law chimes in “Women didn’t get much respect in the Bible. Well the women didn’t get to vote until the 1920’s in this country.” My nine-year-old says, “I thought this was supposed to be a free country.”

So much truth out of the mouth of a child and unfortunately women continue to be silenced and unnamed.

In my class, I am studying the book of Chronicles this week and we are discussing the ways in which the Chronicler retold the stories from Samuel and Kings but edited almost all of the stories with women in them out; that basically the Chronicler silenced the women.

This week a story by Melanie Curtain entitled I was Sexually Harassed. Here is How I Responded was in my inbox. She described the harassment that took place while waiting in line at CVS to get a prescription. She described how trying to keep silent and just ignoring the man felt like it was causing the incident to escalate. So she named it. She said “This is harassment.” “What is happening here is harassment.”

Yes, it is and the silencing is not just in line at CVS, it is in our churches too.

Not only have nameless women in the Bible been silenced, the issue of violence against women have been silenced in our churches. It is not common for issues of domestic violence to be addressed in the pulpit. Women and children have been told to keep quiet, even by clergy. And many denominations continue to silence women as they do not allow them in their pulpits. And even women in those particular denominations believe that they should be kept in their place because that is why God created women, to serve the man.  

Men and women were equally created in God’s image. It was men who decided that they needed to exercise power and that is why the war on woman began and is still accepted to this day. And this war on women goes beyond sexual harassment. It is rape, it is pornography and it is human trafficking.

As a religious leader it is my responsibility to give a voice to women. It is my responsibility to name harassment, to name rape and to name trafficking. It is my job to restore morals into a desensitized, obviously not free country.

And as a mother, it is my job to teach my sons about respect. It is my job to teach my sons that women are not and never will be sex objects. It is my job to teach them that clothing does not give them permission to make assumptions about anyone. It is my job to teach them about what harassment and rape is.

We can change the way men think about women. It starts with our sons.