But God will redeem my life from the grave; he will surely take me to himself.

(Ps. 49:15)

"Secret Stuff You Can't Know About"

I grew up (for the most part) as one of three children, I and two brothers. In any band of three, it's not uncommon for alliances to form, 2-to-1. We were no different.

Often I as the oldest was the divisive one, as much as I hate to admit it. I and one brother would ally against the other and talk about "secret stuff you can't know about." The secret was normally that there was no secret.

I think what bothers me is that I see the same trend developing in churches today. In an attempt to regain "biblical manhood" and "biblical womanhood," we've subdivided the church in to gender-based clubs.

Before someone thinks I'm trying to do away with gender distinction, let me clarify: men and women are different, yes, and have different wants and needs, etc. Fine. But I think we've gone beyond the idea of meeting the needs of each and into the arena of division, and ill-fitting divisions at that.

This really isn't a focused line of thought, just something that's bothered me for a while. Not long ago, the women in the church had the opportunity to participate in a Beth Moore study. Had to be all women, of course, because the person on video was female.(Note that she wasn't present, simply recorded -- how is this different from a book written by a woman? But that's another discussion entirely.) There wasn't anything in it that was substantially "girls only," but that's the way the class was billed. Only a few weeks ago, the men took part in a class based on John Eldredge's book Wild at Heart.

I'm not here reviewing the books and/or studies themselves (which could take a while). Instead, I'm more concerned with the ways in which they are presented. The "boys only!" and "girls only!" attitudes sets up an exclusivistic dichotomy which I think is far from a biblical ideal.

And there's something else that bothers me. The image either of these sets up as the "ideal" man or woman of God is generally far from universal. The "ideal" woman of God is based largely on evangelical culture rather than the biblical picture. As is the man of God. Particularly Eldredge's take on it.

I have a friend whom I consider to be a great man of God who is also shy, quiet and far from the adventurous man Eldredge sets forth as the ideal. Is this man less in the image of God because he is not the adventerous type? And if God is this wild, risk-taking Person and the ideal man is to be like him instead of 'feminized,' what then does this say about the ideal woman?

I don't know. But it bugs the snot outta me. I want to has this out a little better later.

I am re-connected. At least sort of. My iBook is happily zooming along on the wireless network, but my iMac isn't seen by the network. I highly suspect the ethernet port got smacked with the same lightning that killed the router in the first place.

Anyway, it's far past my bedtime and if I keep writing I'll just rant about tech guys who don't actually know what they're doing and I don't want to do that. He was nice, even if he didn't have a clue. Eventually, if you smile and nod enough, they go away and you can sort the networking out for yourself. If you're lucky, this takes less than 2 hours.

But there are far more interesting things than my wireless network (dubbed "lemon") and the various computers that will or will not cooperate with it. Unfortunately (fortunately?), I'm too stinkin' sleepy to bother with them tonight.

G'night.

'Day-tah, dah-tah... what's the difference?'

This is from one of my favorite exchanges in StarTrek:TNG, a series I used to watch constantly. It's among my favorite dialogue snippets because it expresses something I've tried hard to convey for years. A quick google tells me this is from an episode called "the Child."

PULASKI
Data,
(she says "Data" with
a short A)
look at this.

DATA
(he corrects her)
Data.

PULASKI
What?

DATA
My name. It is pronounced Data.

PULASKI
(with a wry smile)
Oh?

DATA
You called me Data.

PULASKI
What's the difference?

DATA
One is my name and the other is
not.

At birth, my parents dubbed me Anna Susan Quiara Maureen Hazlewood. I grew up called by the name Quiara. One glance shows quickly enough that it's not a particularly common name -- at least it wasn't in Ely, Nevada in the early 80s. I've heard more butcherings of my moniker than there are stars in the sky: "kwee-ra" (She-ra?), "queer-uh," "Keera," "Kwai-rah," and, my least favorite, "key-are-uh." This last one is no doubt the one most people who've only seen my name in print opt for, if they attempt a pronunciation at all. I dislike this version for 2 major reasons: It's in the "close but no cigar" category (much like the day-tah, dah-tah conundrum) and, secondly, after 22 years of wearing the name, I found out it's the more "correct" pronunciation anyway. (Apparently it's a French dialectical form of Clara, for the curious.)

My name, however, isn't pronounced that way. It's said "key-air-ah."

This is why, more than any other reason, I go by "Q." So much easier. Most people hit that pronunciation right off. Plus, my college roommate dubbed me that freshman year and it turns out it was better than what my current roommate, Laura, calls me ("ki-ki"), so I won't complain. Much.

Having had my name mangled for much of my life, I think I grew up with an appreciation for the importance of a proper name. I try my best to pronounce the names of people in the ways they've said them to me. And I'm resolved to become better at remember names. (I've been studying our church directory to put more names with more faces.)

A name is something dumped on a child at birth, assumed that s/he will one day grow into it. A surname, in particular, comes also complete with the traces of things done in that name before the child was ever born. And the things the child will do with his or her name will impact the next generation to wear it as well. Names are important things.

When God called Abram, he changed his name. As he did with Jacob. And he called them all and brought about a new nation all for the sake of his name. We are saved in his name, hated because of his name, things we do "in his name" have eternal consequence. Names are important things.

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.



Revelation 2:17

John Fortner once said, "The danger of worship is that you become like that which you worship."

I think of this sometimes when confronted with the idea of people like Fred Phelps. Reverend Phelps claims to be a Christian, a follower of Christ but most people see him instead as a minister of hate. This man claims to be a follower of Christ, but his life evidences harsh judgement and hate to the point of rejoicing in the belief that the souls of certain men, women and even children are burning in hell.

Who does this man worship?

It's true there are pictures of God bringing judgement on the unjust, on the wicked. This image isn't limited to the old testament, either, but veins the book of Revelation with equally startling, disturbing images of the Son of Man. This God of vengeance holds tight to the law of justice and all wickedness finds its end in judgement.

Is this the God of Phelps?

This same God gave Jericho 6,000 years to repent. This same God weeps over his people. This same God yearns for relationship, reaches out, loves even to the point of death. This is not a God, so far as I can see, who holds picket signs proclaiming that [He] hates "fags."

This same Lord encountered the woman caught in adultery, who by his own law should die, and spares her life, dispelling her accusers and commissioning her to a new life, free from sin. Does Phelps know this God?

It seems instead that Phelps worships a broken god; a half-image of the creator. That which he worships is no god; it's an attribute, an attitude, and it's very human.

But what about those who accept unconditionally, condoning everything under a banner of love? These people forget that when Jesus spared the woman, he also told her to go and sin no more. So, too, when we negate the consequences of sin or bandaid bullet holes (crying 'peace, peace! when there is no peace...) we find ourselves doing the same thing: worshipping a half-god, an idol.

This is a sobering thought for me. Who am I like? Am I like the one whom I claim to worship?

Things on faith

I appreciate all the prayers on my father's and my family's behalf. And I believe God hears them. What God has in mind is still somewhat grey.

The tumor was malignant and they've found cancer cells active in his lymph nodes. He'll be starting chemotherapy soon -- as soon as he heals from the last surgery. But he has opted to take the treatment. That in itself is a prayer answered and in the way I'd hoped.

Over the last year or so, I've learned a lot about faith. I've learned that in order to learn about faith and in order to grow in faith, I've had to fight with faith -- and fight with God.

I've learned to pray differently. I still pray for God to heal the sick, comfort the hurting, encourage the despairing and to bring about his will and manifest the kingdom of God. But I realize in that last part, the part about "your kingdom come, your will be done," I'm sometimes negating the first part. Not because I think God's will is for people to be sick, hurting, alone or despairing, but rather because in a world full of sickness, hurt, loneliness and despair, God sometimes has to work through that in order to reach us.

In Disappointment with God, Philip Yancey explains this far better than I could. A God who answers prayers like fast food orders and appears in pillars of flame and columns of smoke at the drop of a hat isn't a God who inspires faith and love in his people. More often, they grew to resent him or to take him for granted. But the question "why does God seem so often silent?" That's a question that arises in the lives of most at some point. I'm sure it occurs to anyone who's ever petitioned God for the life of a loved one, only to lose them anyhow. And when the hurt just wraps a cold hand around the heart, squeezing, sometimes the dying breath of faith is, "Where are you, God?"

Why doesn't he reveal himself then? C. S. Lewis struggled, too, when he lost his wife, Joy. The silence of God was heavy and complex, and difficult, too, because so often when he'd not wanted God around, when he wished to be lord of his own life, God was persistent, insistant and omnipresent, at his elbow constantly. So this God who annoys us in our sin and arrogance, where is this same God who will not show himself when we are steeped in pain?

Questions like that get frowned at. I don't understand why, though, when even Christ knew what it was like to sit shadowed in the silence of God and cried out, "Why have you forsaken me?"

Jesus came to be literally God with us. But he also came to become like us, fully human as well -- to experience what it is to be thirsty, tired, sad, happy and if he would know all that, he must also know what it's like to feel forsaken. We really do have a high priest who understands and intercedes.

Philip Yancey has already said that doubt isn't the enemy of faith, fear is. And I think he's right. Questions are only questions. It's when we are too afraid to look for the answers, often because we don't think we'll like what we learn, that our faith begins to fail.

In order for God's kingdom to become manifest in this world through his people, he constrains himself to the context of this world. How will we minister to the hurting if we've never felt pain? How can we love the ones who struggle if we've never struggled? And can any of us say we've never experienced the silence of God?

Sometimes I wonder if the state of our world, our lives, our souls -- I wonder if sometimes it doesn't simply strike God speechless.

Our cable modem/router had an unfortunate encounter with lightning on Friday (must be all the heresy I've been sending through it...). On the upside, though, it's given me time to unpack.

Apparently God wanted to choose our new apartment for us, so he made last week as complicated and complex as possible so we wouldn't end up where we thought we would.

Last Monday, my roommate and I were supposed to move down the road to a new apartment complex. The short version of the story is that we, in fact, didn't. The longer version involves a lost set of keys, delays due to vacuuming and a burrowing rodent of questionable genus and/or species. The resolution involves the hand of God - and also a Kroger gift certificate.

Anyhow, it leaves me very domestic lately. I have to clean the old apartment before... well, before the apartment managers want to look at it. Which I think is Thursday. Which leaves me cleaning pretty much... tonight.

Last night I took my guitar over there and played for a while. The acoustics are better in the empty rooms.

Invisible

So many things in the world today are invisible. Invisible toxins can kill us. Invisible illnesses strike without warning. I pass invisible people every day -- the ones who are hard to look in the eye, because looking means realizing a mother of three can be homeless and hungry and realizing brings responsibility to do something about it, something beyond saying, "Be warm and filled." And by the way, God loves you. It's just easier not to see.

There's another kind of invisible -- invisible tradition. As an example, my friend recounts to me his travels to Japan, specifically Tokyo where he studied for a year. In general, he found the city and its people pleasant.

In Japan, there is no racism; it doesn't exist. Japan is not like the U.S. My friend heard this repeatedly from different friends he'd made at the university, all of whom were Japanese. Despite having observed others crossing to the other side of the road to avoid walking with him, despite having seen restaurants deny him entrance, claiming there were no tables even as later arriving Japanese customers were continually seated, despite all of this, racism does not exist in Japan.

His friend weren't just covering for the status quo. It's hard to cover something one doesn't see. Racism is impolite, it's loud and angry and an attitude more than an action -- at least as it's perceived in Tokyo. Everyone had politely declined to allow him full participation -- after all, he's not Japanese. But that's not racism -- it's just the way things are.... Right?

Wrong. The intent and attitude are, of course, elements, but the action is the essence. The invisible bias against the "outsider" is a polite form of racism so subtle and ingrained that it links seamlessly with life as lived.

My friend pointed out another invisible bias that I've never quite known how to vocalize. And even now, my doing so will not be effective. My friend points out the Western invisible bias of the masculine. It's likely that those words from a female will align her immediately with the far feminist left whereas a male who states it "may have an interesting point."

The invisible bias is pervasive. It does not occur to many men why many women do consider the ongoing question of women and the church to be an important question. "Why rock the boat?" But the question is bigger than women and the church; the underlying question is women and God.

It doesn't occur to some the lack of female "role models" in either testament. Most women are valued or commended for their roles in preserving the bloodline, the male legacy. Men walk and talk with God "as a man with his friend." Women have never seen the divine. Men are righteous for living according to the law of God, women for living according to the law of their husbands. But when this comes up, often well-meaning men will point to Jesus as the only example needed and claim that to look elsewhere is to lose the focus of the Christian walk.

Why then are men who exhort us to have the heart of David, the wisdom of Solomon and the drive of Paul not given similar lectures?

Jesus is the ultimate expression of divine love and his sacrifice is all-sufficient for our salvation, yes. But if a woman were to follow his example very far, she'd find herself at diametric odds with the church; she'd walk contrary to doctrine.

Often I've heard 1 Corinthians 11:7ff as an answer -- man is the reflection and image of God; woman is the reflection and image of man. How is this an answer? It only brings more questions. This verse has been quoted to me so often, I no longer (if I ever did) know what it means. The words are senseless to me. The same ones who quote it to explain away the "problem" of woman are the same ones who claim that woman is not inferior.

Woman seems always at least one more degree removed from God than is man. Man is the reflection of God; woman is the reflection of man. A copy of a copy makes a lousy copy. Man is created from nothing; woman is 'built' from man. Moses sees the face of God, Miriam is stricken with leprosy. After the rape of Dinah, Jacob is angry -- but not because of what has been done to his daughter. He's angry because his sons have avenged it and brought conflict on his house. And where was God? God is silent there as much as he is in Judges. God doesn't speak much in Judges. If God is King and there was no king in Israel, was God simply absent? Covering his face?

This is why I struggle. When I voice my questions, I'm "reassured" that God doesn't think women are inferior or secondary -- but I'm given no reason to believe it. When I voice questions challenging the status quo, I'm rebuffed as a radical or seen as a boat rocker. If I'm rocking the boat, it's only from grabbing at the side and trying to climb inside rather than continuing to drown.

---

I seriously considered deleting this entry. It's full of questions no one can answer and that many won't even see as valid questions. But today I got an e-mail from a friend asking many of the same ones, asking any advice or encouragement in dealing with them -- and I didn't have any. But she shared hers with me so I feel compelled to leave mine here. Maybe they're not valid questions, I don't know. But I do know I'm not the only one who struggles with them.

Questions, at least, shouldn't stay invisible.

...

Dad seems to have come through his surgery fine and the doctors think they got all of the mass. I appreciate the prayers and kind thoughts as, I'm sure, does he. He's a stubborn old goat, but I love him. ^_~

Slight update

He's only now waking up and is scheduled for another surgery in the morning to remove as much of the mass as is possible. They suspect cancer, but won't know for certain until after the surgery.