The Tablet of my Heart

The last few years have been hard – Job hard. They’ve been so hard that when something amazing happens, it’s almost impossible to believe it’s really happening. To not think, “Best not to get too excited about this, because it’s all bound to go pear-shaped.”

But that’s not what Christianity is all about. It’s not one of these philosophies of detachment where we don’t get too excited about anything as a way to protect our hearts. We are commanded to be joyful. As Psalm 118:24 declares: “This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

It’s been an amazing year full of things I could not even begin to imagine. It’s proof positive of Ephesians 3:20, that God can “accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.”

My challenge is simply to be able to relax into it all and enjoy, and to focus on the “thank you, thank you, thank you” of prayer instead of the “help me, help me, help me.” And to not keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Unless, of course, that shoe completes a pair of sparkly white Louboutins.

Yup, I’m getting married!

Not All Sackcloth and Ashes

I’m a grown woman who will be teaching a course in strategic leadership at the university. I should be reading books about Bayesian probability and the future of the Euro. As a Christian, I should also be elbow-deep in C.S. Lewis books and various translations of the Bible. And yet, the coffee table in my living room – one of the places I most love to read — looks like this:

(Well, actually it looks like this, plus a half-dozen shelter magazines, tatty and dog-eared from excessive reading.)

I love – really love – reading about design.

There, I said it.

While the bible focuses more on developing inner beauty than focusing on exterior matters, there certainly seems to be a place in God’s kingdom for beautiful things and the people who make them:

Then Moses said to the Israelites, “See, the LORD has chosen Bezalel son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, and he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills— to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood and to engage in all kinds of artistic crafts. And he has given both him and Oholiab son of Ahisamak, of the tribe of Dan, the ability to teach others. He has filled them with skill to do all kinds of work as engravers, designers, embroiderers in blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen, and weavers—all of them skilled workers and designers. (Exodus 35:30-35)

If we are made in His image, then surely our ability to create beauty is encouraged.

Even though ours is a consumer society, and there is a focus on accumulating a lot of stuff, there seems to be less focus on beautiful design and craftsmanship. Clothes and home furnishings are all but disposable and I’m not sure our homes are the havens they are meant to be. I like the idea of better rather than more. The bible talks a lot about home, describing it often as a place of security and comfort and family. One of my favourite psalms tells how ”Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young— a place near your altar.” (Psalm 84:3) The desire to create a lovely home and nest seems God-given, and yet these days it seems like a luxury to be able to focus on such things.

I guess this is all a roundabout way of saying that I want to use this space to write not only about my faith journey, but about life in general. For me, creating a nice home, doing good work, raising my family well, loving the people in my life, taking care of myself, and bringing more joy into the world is completely intertwined with my faith.

And while I’m not sure that writing about, say, the gorgeous tapestries from the 1700s that Karl Lagerfeld has in his apartment is entirely suitable fodder for this blog (mind you, the subject matter is the story of Esther…) I do hope you’ll indulge me from time to time.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

So, a month has passed since I last wrote — how did that happen?? It’s been busy. Lots of work writing, lots of illness, and a trip to New York in between. Oh, plus I’m now a certified Myers-Briggs practitioner. Busy times.

New York was fabulous, as always. I ate at Babbo and stayed at the Palace. What’s not to like? While there, I saw the new production of Godspell at Circle In The Square. I’d seen Jesus Christ Superstar at Stratford two weeks earlier and, given that they are both revivals of 1970s musicals about the life of Jesus, it’s hard not to compare. Jesus Christ Superstar was a much slicker production and I preferred the music, but Godspell was such a tremendously energetic production with such talented performers that I found myself being drawn in. I loved the intimacy of the theatre-in-the-round setting and it was interesting being able to watch other people in the audience and see their reactions: at times, people were very moved, as was I. The production tried to reflect current sensibilities and it seemed as through it might veer toward being irreverent, but it pulled back and was able to get away with more than I thought they could because it all seemed to be done with the right spirit. At intermission, as an example, they invited everyone up on stage for dancing and communion (yes, communion) and it seemed like exactly the right thing to do. Contrast that to the tourists in St. Patrick’s Cathedral who were taking pictures of each other making faces in front of the alter or mugging for the camera beside the nuns. My critical side came out as I tried to light a candle amidst all of the people pushing in for a cathedral photo op and I found myself thinking “Jesus died for this?” It’s the second time in six weeks that a theatrical production felt more reverent than being inside a church. Hmm.

I’ve also been busy reading. I picked up a copy of Joyce Meyer’s Living Beyond Your Feelings. I like Joyce Meyer, which always seems to surprise people (that I’m a Christian often surprises people too – apparently I’m just full of surprises.) I listen to her podcasts (alternating with 100 Huntley Street) when I do my daily walk-run on the treadmill (yes, I realize that sounds annoying) and I like her style. Although televangelists are not my usual cup of tea, I like that she is a very strong woman in an environment where women sometimes seem to act as the window dressing (if we are lucky we might be able to minister to small children, but really it’s best if we apply lots of lipstick and smile.) I like that she believes she has personal responsibility for her life, with God’s help, and offers practical tips to live one’s faith. I also like that Meyer is honest about her own shortcomings – her critical nature and bad temper and tendency to be harsh (I’d have liked to see her reaction to the tourists in the cathedral – bet she’d have set ‘em straight) – and shows how her relationship with Christ has been helpful. It’s the same reason I like Anne Lamott, even though I really can’t see the two sitting down for supper. (If they do sit down for supper, however, I’ll pay really good money to be there.) Anyways, it’s a really good book about living a more purposeful life and not getting blown hither and thither and yon by your emotions.

So, other than that, we are preparing for Christmas. I’m reading to my kids about the Christmas story, and watching lots of Veggie Tales, and reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s delicious Letters From Father Christmas, which is something I used to do as a child. It’s all left the kids slightly confused; they had an argument in the car the other day about Santa’s relationship with Jesus and the role of Polar Bears in the nativity. (Alas, according to Jim Coyle, they are not alone in their confusion.) Perhaps we can get it all straightened out on Christmas Eve as we’ve identified a nice church that offers a family service. They don’t have kneelers or a pipe organ, but they are friendly and welcoming and have an enthusiastic teaching minister and that is worth a lot. I’m done my shopping (yes, also annoying) so I can spend the next couple of weeks relaxing and enjoying my family and consuming 30 pounds of shortbread and counting my blessings and thinking about what the season really means and how to better incorporate the gift that is Christ into our lives.

 

 

 

 

Jesus Christ Superstar and a Brand New Church

Last Saturday night I saw the Stratford production of Jesus Christ Superstar. The production has been getting rave reviews and is Broadway bound so I expected good things, but I was unprepared for the emotional reaction I’d have to the show. It was simply breathtaking.  The staging, oh the staging. And the music! The first few bars of Mary Magdalene singing Everything’s Alright caused me to tear up, doing that open-eyed blinking thing women do to try to preserve their eye makeup. I’m a worrier and these were major words of comfort. I was hooked. If the production had been a church service, I’d have been asking for one of those membership cards they pass our during the offering and a pen.

But, of course, it wasn’t a church and so the next morning, I headed off to check out a new church about which I’d heard good things. I’d heard that they were very supportive of those going through hard times, that the congregation was full of young families and the Sunday school program was amazing, and that the rock star teaching pastor likes to make his congregants think by posing all sorts of challenging theological questions. In hindsight, I was sort of expecting a daytime version of Jesus Christ Superstar. Surely that’s not too much to expect?

The congregation was vibrant, with lots of people of all ages. The Sunday School appeared to be equally vibrant and very well organized. The music was good — like, I’d-buy-a-ticket-to-see-them good. God bless the Anglicans, but at very few points in their services do I feel tempted to tap my feet or sway or throw my arms heavenward (not that I actually did any of these things at this new church either – those old C of E sensibilities die hard, you know.) The teaching pastor is a very dynamic guy and they handed out an outline of the sermon in advance so you’d get a sense of what he planned to say. Oh, and they didn’t just have coffee: think more along the lines of Starbucks.Yup. There was a  lot of awesome there. I read their 30 page statement of faith and then combed through the beliefs of the denomination. Yes, they believe in hell for non-believers, but you have to search for it so I don’t think it’s a primary focus. That being said, they had a fairly extensive book shop (they had a bookstore!) and I did not see any copies of Love Wins.

I liked a lot of what a saw and I’d be willing to give it another go. People’s hearts seemed to be in the right place. The sermon was a little disorganized – instead of covering all his points, the pastor showed us a clip from a home movie that had a tangential connection to his theme – but I would not have known he was off track had we not had the outline in advance. I don’t want to fault him for his preparedness. The sermon mainly focused on the limitations of another Christian denomination’s theology. His reasoning was sound and I’m all for comparative theology as an intellectual practice  - especially when it makes the place where you are sitting seem like the better choice. But it was a bit like he was telling the Cat Fanciers Society of Canada 12 reasons why cats are better than dogs. It’s an effective way to get a lot of heads nodding in agreement but I’m not sure it moves anyone forward.

My main beef, however, was that the service lacked reverence. Jesus Christ Superstar felt far more respectful to me than the service on Sunday morning. At this new church, I could not find a hint of a cross in the worship area and to me that felt odd. Now I realize I’m going to come across as a major stick in the mud here, but I also found the tone excessively casual. I’m all for dressing to be comfortable, but we were there to worship God, not paint the deck or do Pilates. To me, it did not come across as sloppy so much as it did arrogant. People used to quake in the presence of God. Now that we understand string theory and genomes and have iPhones and can text our questions to the minister, perhaps He seems less awesome. We can simple roll in wearing our yoga pants and sipping from our half-caf frappawhatsits and log in our time with Him before brunch. People dressed up a bit for Stratford because, well, it’s Stratford and that’s what you do out of respect for the institution. Jesus died on the cross for our sins; is it really too much effort to put on a decent shirt?

I truly don’t think that any disrespect was intended. I imagine that they are trying to adapt themselves to attract more people to hear the Message. And it’s working. The place is packed. There is also an argument to be made that by integrating our modern lives – with all the casualness and desire for comfort and need to text – into our faith, we will more easily integrate our faith into our modern lives. It’s the Everyday is Sunday sort of thinking I suppose. It seems to work for many.

I’m just not sure it works for me.

The Search

I’m looking for a few good men. And women. And, oh, a Casavant organ would be lovely.

I’m looking for a church.

When it comes to my church-going experience, here is the brief history of time. I grew up in the Unitarian church in Western Canada. They believe in a big tent God and making chocolate snowballs – the ones rolled in coconut – and kite flying. I was young. It’s really hard to remember more than that.

When we moved to Toronto, I went to an Anglican school. I liked what they had to say and I converted to Christianity when I was about 14. My faith did not follow me to university. I’m not sure why. Perhaps because there was no longer mandatory daily chapel and I was lazy. Plus, I was young and cocky and smart, and young, smart, cocky people don’t seem to need their faith quite as much,no? When it came time to get married, we hired a Unitarian minister because faith didn’t seem like a big thing in my life and Unitarians will marry you at the Prince Hotel where your reception is being held – so much more convenient for the guests…

In our first house, we lived across from a minister from the local Anglican church. I attended services a few times at a gorgeous church on Avenue Road. It was pretty and I’ve always loved the liturgy, but I failed to connect with the aging congregation. The few youngish people I’d seen when I’d walked by the church before attending a service were not, as I’d hoped, part of some weekday evening fellowship group – they were there for their AA meeting. The chain-smoking outside might have been a tip-off that they would not be passing the peace with me come Sunday morning but I’m slow to learn. Eventually, I stopped attending.

When my daughter was born, I went through a bout of postpartum depression that I won’t revisit here (I have written about it in my piece in the anthology, Between Interruptions.) I remember feeling both very close to and very apart from God during that time, and I thought about faith in a way I hadn’t in years. I had a desire to rejoin a church and have my daughter baptized. I thought I’d give the United Church a whirl. I found a church on St. Clair that I liked and was quite welcoming. Unfortunately, the congregation was tiny and the median age was about 87. Shortly after I’d worked the rummage sale and had my daughter baptized, the church closed down and went condo. I kid you not.

Then I joined a United Church in the well-heeled neighbourhood near where we were living. The church was filled with families who’d been attending since the arrival of the Ark on Plymouth Rock (isn’t that how the story goes?) and on Sunday mornings people seemed reluctant to slide down to make room in the family pew for an interloper. In spite of joining a weekday fellowship group and having my son baptized at the church, I felt a bit like there was no room at the inn. After a while I let it go in spite of the stained glass windows, pipe organ, and talented choir (in truth, I would have embraced the exclusivity if only they’d let me in!)

So for the last few years, I’ve been churchless. And I’ve been missing it. I want to be part of a faith community. I need to be part of a faith community. I need a place to go on Sundays to restore my soul.

I’m not sure where to start. I miss the Anglican BCP services and the hymn Jerusalem but I may be able to satiate this need by watching Chariots of Fire on DVD. I’m drawn to the growth and energy of some of the more evangelical churches and I like that they are not reserved or stuffy about their faith. However, it worries me that even though many of these churches allow guitars in the sanctuary and it all seems very relaxed, some of them seem to have quite rigid beliefs.

One group’s website that otherwise appealed outlined as one of the points in their nine-point statement of faith that they believe in “eternal glory for believers in heaven and everlasting punishment for unbelievers in hell.” The way it’s phrased, they seem to almost delight in the notion of eternal damnation for people who are not, well, them. Don’t get me wrong, I kind of like the idea of hell. It makes that forgiveness stuff so much more palatable if you think that your enemies just might get theirs in the end. But then I remember Anne Lamott’s quote, “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” Jesus spent most of his time on earth spreading a message of love and I think he makes it pretty clear in Matthew 22:37-40 that we are called to do the same. Given that most of us could spend until the end of our days and still not adequately share the love of God in the world, I’m not sure we really have all that much time to focus on who isn’t getting into heaven. Last time I checked, it wasn’t up to us.

So, I want a big tent, Christian church with well-defined views that are not too rigid. I’d like good music (traditional, modern and – every now and then – a bit of Coldplay.) A robust children’s program. Respect for the altar. Inclusiveness. A sense of reverence. Good bible study groups. A minister who actively wrestles with his faith and shares his struggles. A church where people believe God is strong enough to be questioned when bad things happen (I want to be able to rant like Jeremiah on occasion.) I’d like the people to be warm and down to earth. I don’t want to get the stink-eye because I’m divorced. I like candles and kneelers, but that may be a lot to ask, so maybe I can bring my own. Maybe the coffee could be good and they could serve decaf even though it’s morning. And if it could look like the Unitarian church in the Witches of Eastwick movie, well, that’d be just fine.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Hello, again hello

I’ve missed having a personal blog. I blog as part of my executive coaching practice, but focus on things like strategy and ROI. I love it, but sometimes I simply feel compelled to write about things like a good novel I’ve read or cashmere. I need a personal space in which to play.

After I hung up my hat at my mommy blog, MUBAR, I used to send out a newsletter called Bliss Notes. Since I stopped writing that, a couple of things have changed. I wrote much of Bliss Notes during my divorce. While it was helpful to focus on the lovely side of life in the midst of a whole lot of unloveliness, I feel that the writing served its purpose. That being said, I have had a number of people tell me how much they miss Bliss Notes so I may do something with that material one day. Bliss Notes, the movie. Um, perhaps not. (On a somewhat related note, recently my 7 year old daughter had a school assignment to create a poster for a fictitious movie called, The Perfect Apple. Sounds riveting, no? I believe it’s the sequel to Watching Paint Dry.)

The other change is that I have become much more interested in exploring my faith. I converted to Christianity as a teenager and although my faith ebbs and flows, I feel privileged to be able to follow the teachings of someone as accessible as Christ. I’m a universalist ,which means that although I believe that the best way for me to connect with God is through Christ, God is pure love and I don’t think he ever turns his back on any of us. I certainly don’t think for a minute that I have all the answers. Although I’d love to be what my godmother calls a “happy, clappy Christian” and continually turn cartwheels because of my faith, I’m an INTJ (I do Myers-Briggs analysis as part of my coaching practice) and it’s simply not in my nature. I think I’m more of an Anne Lamott kind of Christian. One of my favourite lines of hers is “the opposite of faith is not doubt, it’s certainty.” I believe that it is in wrestling with the tough issues that I find my faith. That being said, my faith has brought me comfort and joy through impossibly tough times that I’m simply not sure I’d have found anywhere else.

So, I’m trying to figure things out as, just as I did with parenting in those early days, and I find that writing things out brings me clarity. Thanks for indulging me.