Steadfast.

Advent begins on Sunday. It is the time of waiting and preparation for Christ. Advent is the beginning of the liturgical calendar; a new spiritual year. As I begin to make spiritual preparations for the coming year, I liken it to New Years and the making of resolutions. This year, my focus is on the spiritual concept of “steadfast.” Steadfast is defined as being firmly fixed in place; not subject to change; firm in belief, determination, or adherence.


A part of me laughs at my goal. I know me and my cyclical/chaotic personality. I am an idea person quickly filled with enthusiasm regarding dreams, visions, and new concepts, but once the dream moves to actuality and the necessary details, I grow bored. Another part of me knows that integrating steadfastness into my life is critical in my pursuit of the sacred life.

I do not wish to squash or dampen my personality. It has great assets in life and allows me to see possibilities in people, relationships, organizations, and empty buildings. It is this exact enthusiasm that fuels my hope and allows me to help highlight a path of hope for others. A year ago I would have framed my mood cycles and short-lived enthusiasm as negative. I would have looked for ways to extract it from my life. With grace and greater understanding, I have grown to recognize that to wish this part away is to also believe that there is something wrong at a core level of my being. Not to say that I do not have plenty of short-comings or above fault and wrong-doing. What I am saying is that my mood cycles are part of how I am created to be and rather than shame this part of me, I need to instead find ways to enhance it.

I do wish to bring something new to my personality, that being the virtue of steadfastness. Liturgy has a rhythm – times of preparation, times of celebration, times of repentance . . .. While there are various spiritual seasons, there is a repetitive element to the liturgical calendar such as daily readings, daily prayers (often to be said at multiple said times throughout the day), daily Mass, and weekend Mass. The Mass itself has a rhythm and repetition from week to week. There are practices within the liturgical seasons that are not subject to change – they are steadfast. These practices keep one anchored to religious beliefs through seasons of doubt and famine. I may feel distant from God, but I make a public proclamation of my faith through a weekly recitation of the Creed.

I look to bring an attitude of steadfastness into my own cycles. While I may vacillate between enthusiasm and drudgery, I must have something to anchor me spiritually. I must have aspects of my life that are repetitive – that I cling to even when I feel like curling up with the sludge of boredom and depression. I have decided that two things will become non-negotiable in this next liturgical year. I will start my day with daily readings and a time of contemplation and prayer. I will also run the Geist half-marathon in May 2011. For those who have trained for a half-marathon know that it takes a disciplined and determined mindset to make it happen. While this is not entirely spiritual, I do believe that we are holistic beings. In other words, the physical and mental discipline it takes to train for a half-marathon should have natural spiritual implications and lessons to learn. I look forward to the wrestling match as I attempt to incorporate steadfastness into my fleeting and sporadic personality.

Rebellion.

I am a rebel. Though I may be ultra-preppy, clean-cut, and rule-liking, nevertheless I am coming to grips with my inner rebellion. I can unpack this self-awareness many ways – examining impurities, flaws, self-righteousness, hypocrisy, pride, fierce independence, all of which are legit and deserve reflection, but this is not what I am talking about today.


Last week was an “ah ha” moment for me. I sat across Sister Olga, a wise nun who also happens to have a Ph.D. in psychology. I meet with Sister Olga on a regular basis to wrestle with my anger and the intentional distance I hold between myself and God. Not exactly an easy task for myself or Sister Olga (thank goodness she is equipped to deal with my craziness!). I entered her office, sat on the couch, and promptly announced with intention to stir up some debate, “I am angrier with God than I have admitted in the past.” She was not moved. I again stated, “I would like to declare that if I am honest, I hate God.” Again, she was not provoked but instead stated, “I do not think it is God you are angry with.” She reminded me that I have encountered God on the mountain and in my heart, in the core of my being, I know it is not God who has disappointed me.

As I unpacked the source of my anger, it became evident it was toward individuals representing God and Christianity whom I believe unjustly caused me harm. I believed they had labeled my thoughts and questions as rebellious. I wore the label as though I were a rebellious teenager. I impulsively resisted and rejected others because I believed “they just didn’t understand me.” I assumed I was rejected and therefore with anger, began rejecting them. I wrote others off as closed-minded and preemptively rejected them. I was a rebel with the cause of self-preservation. I believed a lie that others were out to harm me. In my assumptions (which we know what an assumption does), I believed that the worldview from which I came could no longer accept who I had become. The problem: I never gave them the chance.

Adolescent rebellion occurs in the midst of one’s quest for identity. The adolescent is unsure of who they are, but sure of who they are not. Specifically, they are NOT their parents. As I reflect on my adolescent spiritual rebellion, I was NOT that which I assume others stated I was. I was searching for who I was becoming, but this had (and still has) no concrete certainty.

While I am still discerning out my identity, specifically my spiritual identity, I believe rebel still fits – that is, rebel with some degree of maturity. I do wrestle with complicated questions and am content with maintaining a “sacred agnosticism.” In other words, I believe in the Christian story, I believe that Christ is who he says he is, but I approach this with humility. I also believe that much of what I believe about God and religion is wrought with my own projections, anxieties, experiences, ideologies, and cultural values. As I peel back these layers, I do believe that the Truth exists. Unfortunately, I have come to believe I will spend a lifetime peeling back the layers and will only ultimately KNOW TRUTH in the next life. So yes, I rebel against the idea of absolute knowledge in this life and cling to faith and hope that in my pursuit toward the truth, I will not be disappointed in the end.

I also believe that most of life is complicated and cannot be answered with a simple four-step plan that will make life lovely. Those four-step plans, riddled in the worldview of modernism, seem trite in the face of suffering. Telling a young widow with small children that, “It was God’s will for her husband to die and that she should rejoice in his eternity” is a cruel denial of her suffering. Instead, I believe we are called to suffer with those who suffer, even when the suffering has no immediate solution, quick fix, or magic words to make the pain go away. Suffering is a part of life. It was a part of the life of Christ. So yes, I rebel against trite answers to life’s complications and in doing so, I hope that I am being like Christ in my actions and in my willingness to walk alongside another.

Can They All Be Redeemed?

I sat with a group of students today who stated they would rather die than have their name disrespected. They went on to explain that they had “worked hard to build up their reputation” and they would not allow others to make them look foolish. These students reminded me that I do not walk the streets of their neighborhood. They told me I could not possibly understand what it is like to have someone disrespect them in the presence of women and other onlookers. They are partially right. I do not live in a violent neighborhood where the strongest survive and displaying vulnerability could cost one their life. I do not have parents that expect me to fight and would be ashamed if I walked away. I believe in turning the other cheek and walking away from violence. These students stated they “could not look themselves in the mirror” had they walked away from defending their reputation. I would be ashamed if I had fought back.


And then I ponder. These children are handed a script of values. Their parts require a willingness to engage in violence and condone parental irresponsibility (e.g. parents who are abusive, neglectful, and often prioritize their own substance abuse over their children’s welfare.) Is it possible for these children to rebel against the societal/familial script and embrace a part that respects all life, including the life of an enemy? Is there a hope for these children beyond a life of crime, prison, chemical substance abuse, and violent deaths? Can they be redeemed?

I like to believe that all are redeemable, but then I ask, redeemed to what? Redeemed to a life of achievement and social success? I struggle with imposing my own values onto others, specifically the value of hard work and good citizenship. Should everyone contribute to society in a way that is positive and productive? Maybe.

Despite the complicated questions, I am reminded of what is common between these students and my own life. We are rebels against that which institutions expect of us. I was expected to stay close to home and live in suburbia and instead spent one summer living in a tent in Tijuana, Mexico and a year in Vietnam. Not exactly conventional. And while I now live in a vinyl village in the midst of American suburbia, I still look for ways to fight for social injustice and the cycles of poverty. We share in our intention to stand strong for our values and fight for that which we find meaningful. I remember vividly sitting in a high school classroom where the teacher and students were displaying a strong desire to “stone the homosexuals” and I stood alone and asked about the missing grace and love. I stood against what was expected within the walls of my private school because of my belief. Had I chosen to remain silent, I would have been ashamed.

Ultimately, I do believe there are better lifestyle choices. Though these students place high value on maintaining respect, I do not believe that violence is justified. Violence leads to more violence. Crime leads to more crime. My wish is that someday we can embrace our common brokenness. Under the anger and the attitude are hurting, lonely children. As I confronted my own anger, I encountered hurt, grief, and loneliness. Our difference – I also encountered safety, support, and grace. I wonder if these students will ever find emotional safety. Will they find the courage to encounter their own brokenness and vulnerability? Will they find the place where they can encounter grace and redemption? Will I be an instrument in helping create space for vulnerability, or will I turn my back and write them off as unredeemable?