Telling True Stories

There are many stories we are told that simply aren't true. For example, the people eating at McDonalds in the commercials are typically outrageously thin. (Did you see Supersize Me?) Often people's lifestyles aren't what they appear to be. (I once wondered how friends of mine lived the lifestyle they did on only one income, and later learned they had $50k in credit card debt.) I have friends with amazing figures who I later learned were enhanced by plastic surgery. I can't count the number of beauty products, weight loss methods, relationship books, et. al. I've invested in that simply didn't work as promised. (Apparently you can't actually buy a cream that will erase cellulite. It takes a skilled plastic surgeon, thousands of dollars and a lot of pain. And even then, it doesn't have a high success rate.)

And while these untrue stories may seem harmless, they create unreal expectations and craft false constructs of how the world works.

And we live under their bias. They affect our behavior. (I'm curious how many of the marriages we've seen fall apart weren't due to untrue stories about the realities of their marriage or how love works. Even more curious if the leaving spouse tells a true story to themselves now about how their decisions actually turned out.)

I'm unsure in a world of untrue stories and unreal expectations how you get to authenticity--especially since we aren't completely aware when the stories we've been told aren't true. (It took me a long time to realize how many spiritual homilies I'd been told that weren't actually Biblically real, just stories told to reinforce the teller's viewpoint.)

In 1992, Steve Martin and Debra Winger made a movie about a faith healer called Leap of Faith. The faith healer character's get-out-of-jail-free card if the healing didn't work was always, "Well, you must not have had enough faith." Cons work because they play on something human in us. They appeal to our longings. They take advantage of trust. In this case, putting the failure factor on the one not healed works because something in us knows we fail. The weight loss and health club companies gamble on this. The product doesn't work not because it is a bad product, but because we didn't use it right. (Note how many supplements and exercise machines come with 'diet plans' of about 800-1200 calories a day that are never mentioned in the large print.)

And while you can become closed to protect yourself from the con, that just creates more untrue stories.

So what does authenticity look like? How do we become tellers of true stories?

I think for one thing we have to quit managing our image. I ran into a woman I hadn't seen in a long time and asked what she was doing now. It didn't take long for her to frame the job as temporary....a stepping stone to something else. Then she went on with more narrative to separate herself from the people she was working with. To make sure I knew she was just working with them. She wasn't one of them. She was managing her image. (I could be pretty self-righteous telling this story, except that moments later when I went to check out, I made up a story to tell my husband to use the credit card because I didn't want to confess we might be dangerously low in checking.)

Another thing is we have to realize that truth is important enough to brave consequences. My sister told me a story of her friend's husbands confessions of the details of his affair and how much it had devastated her friend. She commented that the man shouldn't have revealed it. But to be authentic, he has to. Moreover, if the wife decides to stay with him, she needs to make the decision on true facts. Anything less is fraud. And if the consequences are that she leaves...well, at least it is a true consequence, which beats the heck out of living with a skeleton in the closet.

Maybe most importantly, we have to be willing to live open. To actually let people get to know us. The beautiful and the ugly. The things that are still in process. Because though being skeptical and closed will protect you from the con, it doesn't let you live as who you truly are. You become a manufactured version of yourself.

Manufactured people aren't real people. And only real people can tell true stories.

The Last Piece of the Mural

Today was the last circle on the mural. I was so excited I got to be the one to paint it.

The part of the story where everything is restored. Where the "lion lays with the lamb." I love that.

We are all waiting for the ending to the story.

Of lessons, love and sacrifice...

When you open yourself to God, He starts to teach you things.

Chase and I had lunch the other day and he was sharing with me how a series of things happening in his life led him to believe God was teaching him to hold material things and his money loosely.

It's a great lesson--one that if you follow God for any length of time you will be coached in.

Anyway, the conversation got me to thinking about how one of the dangers of Bible studies always being in workbooks is that we begin thinking that is the only way to learn. If you ask God to begin teaching you the things in life He wants you to know, the lessons tend to arrive differently. Events begin to carry a theme and become a practicum of sorts. At least that has been my experience.

So then I began thinking about what my practicum has been recently. Again, for me this is not some truth uncovered in a quiet time or personal Bible study, but the thing I've received training in by God bringing things into my life that I've had to navigate.

If I were to sum up the lesson of the past few years, it would be about the definition of love. Specifically, that love is about sacrifice.

After all, the most satisfying love stories are the ones like Gift of the Magi--where the girl sold her hair for a pocket watch chain and the guy sold his pocket watch for hair combs. Or Casablanca where Bogart puts Bergman on the plane because it is what is best for her.

In day to day life, we are extraordinarily selfish. We'll sacrifice the little stuff...say the largest slice of pizza, but we rarely sacrifice the big stuff. And when we do, we don't actually give it up. We sort of hang onto the edge of it as if it were some big thing.

True sacrifice actually lets the thing you are sacrificing go. It could be time or money or dreams. Social position, public opinion, or the offense that has been committed against you. Whatever it is, it is probably uniquely personal to you.

I've written before, I think the Christian life is about what you give up rather than what you attain. The thing is that there is no love without sacrifice. And while we may secretly hope in our heart that if we sacrifice something we will get it back (sort of like Abraham and Isaac on the hill), it never actually works that way. What you sacrifice is gone once you really let it go.

The odd thing is that you wind up getting back something else. Something you never knew you always needed. And while you may feel the loss of whatever you've sacrificed, if you are honest with yourself, what you've received is much more valuable.

Where love is, there is sacrifice. And you can only learn it through practice. Not in a workbook or a blog post.

ATC Swap...black and white

I'm so excited. I got my final Artist Trading Card (ATC) from my "Until April" ATC group in the mail today from Kirsten Yohe, so I get to show them all.

The theme for November was Black and White. Artist, Jennifer Elwell did the card top left, then Debra Kolce, Kirsten Yohe, Melody Hay and Monica Cobby. It is always amazing to me that different artists can come up with completely different interpretations on a theme in a 2.5" x 3.5" space. Amazing!

As for me, I took the black and white theme literally...in photographs. Thanks to Facebook I was able to get "headshots" of each of the artists. The words behind are from KT Tunstall's Suddenly I See. "She fills up every corner like she's born in black and white..."

Jennifer said when she opened my envelope she was a little alarmed to see her own face on the card. She said she felt better when her daughter clued her in that I probably didn't send her face to everyone. (Smile.)

I can't wait until December. The theme next month? Candy.

Simple Joys | Crayons

I carry crayons with me everywhere. A simple pack of eight in a gift card tin I purchased at Michaels and lined with foam so they wouldn't get broken.

The power of color to enliven and inspire continues to amaze me. You don't even need the box of 64 with a sharpener. Just red, yellow, blue, green, purple, orange, brown and black...and you can create anything.

It really is magic.

Discovery Channel in our Backyard

One of my great joys is feeding the birds.

I love it that they sit on the fence and wait for John or I to come outside and refill the stash. Mostly we have sparrows and doves, but occasionally there is a blue jay, pidgeon, or cardinal...and for awhile, we had a big yellow parakeet--though I don't think he survived last winter.

Today--however--we had a different guest. One who wasn't there for our sunflower seeds.

We saw him once last year and watched him for a long time. We assumed that he was hunting one of our "alley bunnies" but just about the time I found him in our field guide (Cooper's Hawk) and read that he "often dines on small birds at backyard feeders" he swooped into our rosebush and snagged a sparrow for lunch.

Just like on TV....but through our window.

Getting unstuck...

::image from Teatown Lake Reservation::

Everyone has personal pain. Some hide it and others wear it as a badge to define them, but few of us know how to let it cut us and do its work.

I'm not sure why pain is the instrument of our growing and becoming, but countless poets, theologians and philosophers have written about it. It would appear that we aren't designed to bear it--thus the reason we invent ways to handle it. "Coping mechanisms" if I remember high school psych correctly.

One of the things that was stunning to me in going through marriage boot camp is that we spent four days knowing everybody's pain. The childhood cuts. The longings of the soul. It's a weird thing to be surrounded by people with no masks. No images projected of themselves. Just the people at their core with all their secrets revealed.

And the odd thing is that vulnerability creates likeability...because we can relate. When it all boils down, there is a commonality in humanity...we simply build different scaffolding to support ourselves when those longings of the heart aren't met.

So to the issue at hand...if anger, depression, anesthetics and shame can make us "stuck" then how do we become "unstuck?" Curiously, I think it goes back to the pain. Physically, the job of pain is to tell us something is wrong. What if emotionally, it's job is the same?

What if when someone says something snarky to you...something that hurts...what if the pain is to alert you that what was said isn't right? What if when a spouse leaves for someone else....because they've "fallen in love"...the pain is to let you know that love doesn't do that?

If pain is an alert system for when things are wrong, then it would seem that in a fallen world there would be emotional pain involved in almost everything.

What if the analogy goes further? If we hurt physically, sometimes the response is immediate (ie. pull your hand back the stove is hot) but other times it is dull. Throbbing. The sign of something more serious. Could it be that emotional pain has similar levels? Sharp...as in "don't hang out with her, she's toxic" or dull...as in "your heart got broken and it never really healed."

It occurs to me that we don't want to listen to our pain. We embrace the energy of anger/indignation, the low emotional bandwidth of depression, the bliss of addiction or the heaviness of shame. Anything to shift away from hurting.

Because, the deep hurts...once you engage them...require time to unravel. They cause you to have to find the lies you've believed about yourself. To practice forgiveness. And perhaps the most demanding of requirements...to allow yourself to open enough so that you could be hurt again.

Which is why we don't seem to mind being stuck.

Except that when we spend too much time stuck, the scenery gets to be the same. And like putting a bandaid on a sucking chest wound, our coping mechanisms only provide the illusion of healing.

Getting stuck...

::image is a wall painting at La Villeneuve, Grenoble, France. From Wikimedia.::

After spending some time with a girl who she'd watched grow up who is now turning 30, a friend of mine commented, "It's as if she got stuck." My friend referred to the fact that this young woman hadn't grown into someone wonderful that you would want to spend time with. Instead she was living a shallow life that kept her going in the same circle...over and over.

And so I've been thinking about that. Because as many deep, beautiful, multi-faceted people as I know, I've also known people who seem....well, stuck.

If life is about growing and becoming, then I suppose it really would be possible to get stuck. A sort of bonsai of the soul. And as I've explored this, it occurs to me that there are a number of places people get "stuck" in.

Such as...

Anger. Have you ever met someone you would classify as an "angry person?" Someone who it takes very little to set off? When John and I were going through theophostic training, Ed Smith said, "All of the angry people I've known had legitimate cause to be angry." We live in an unjust world. There are offenses committed against us that we can justly and rightfully carry. But they get heavy. And our own personal jihads can take all of our energy, keeping us from moving forward. Not only that, but each new offense immediately requires action. Pouring all creativity into our personal war instead of into more positive forward pursuits.

Depression. Whether physical or emotional (or emotional that eventually becomes physical), depression dims the spark of the life of the person suffering from it. It takes the volume of the spirit flood to trickle. It creates a shadow of ourselves. As with anger, most of the people I know suffering from depression have legitimate reason to be depressed. Yet unlike with anger--which creates energy--depression steals the ability to deal with personal pain. Leaving no energy for forward motion.

Anesthetics. Most every one you know has had horrible crimes committed against their souls. And anesthetics for pain are widely available. Drugs, alchohol, shopping, sex, food...but, it's like pressing "pause" on pain without ever engaging it. Anesthetics keep you stuck.

Shame.Perhaps the worst pain is the type we inflict on ourselves. Bad decisions. Times our actions caused pain for someone else. Pain we carry responsibility for because we feel we deserve it. Shame is a bitter, ugly cross to bear. And it causes us to hide our true selves. To settle for something less.

If these are the things that keep us "stuck" then how do we get "unstuck." Ahh...bet you can guess the title of the next post.

Wonderful sparrows...

On the bush outside of Los Lupes last Friday there was a flock of sparrows. Just hanging out.

No idea why they decided to locate on that one single bush. Just sitting and talking in their own tweetie little way.

But when I stepped too close with my iPhone, they all shot up and flew away.

Silly sparrows.

Books, art and acoustic guitar

Tonight I went to the Northpark Barnes & Nobel for a book reading. Of course, because ArtLoveMagic was involved, there was music and art.

The author was Erik Raschke--author of The Book of Samuel--a humorous and poignant novel about the life of 12 year old Samuel growing up in Denver. As Erik read, one of the women in the audience talked about how much the "voice" really did sound like a 12-year-old boy. We later learned that Erik had been a teacher of middle school boys in New York City before moving to Amsterdam.

If Erik's last name sounds familiar it might be because his dad is Carl-the-Famous-Theologian--a recurring character in this blog.

I really enjoyed the reading--and was bummed when it stopped. Fortunately I have a signed copy in hand and an open Sunday afternoon.

The Mural Continues...

Last Sunday at Crosspointe, it was my turn to paint again. Knowing I'm painting makes me "see" the symbology as it flows throughout. I mentioned in the last post about the mural that the symbology as thorns as part of the curse in the garden and a crown of thorns for Jesus really jumped out at me.

As David-the-Artist Pastor went through the Seder, the symbology of creation, fall, restoration and deliverance was overwhelming.

Of course, the best part of the painting is that people actually come and look at it. It engages.

Which is sort of wonderful.

Singing with the dogs....

I love singing with my dogs.

Just sayin.

Fake English

Jason F. in our office speaks amazing "fake French" and regularly makes us all burst out laughing doing so.

Yesterday,Erin-the-Wonder-Woman and I were talking about Jason's talent, when Erin asked...."I wonder if people in other countries speak Fake English?"

Then, knowing we have the world of knowledge at our finger tips she said, "Hey, check You Tube."

And as it turns out, we weren't the only ones who wondered. This video sets up the concept. Then, check the responses.

The Mural

So, this is how the mural at Crosspointe is shaping up. (Though I was working last week and don't have Jody's latest edition. And I think Sunny may have added some things to her portion on the lower right.)

Since we are painting a series that is looking at scripture as a whole, the symbology that plays throughout has taken on a whole new meaning for me. For the first time, I saw the significance in the thorns that are part of the curse when Adam and Eve are exiled in the book of Genesis (Jody added them to the right side of the first image) to the crown of thorns that Christ wore on the cross.

My contribution was "twigs." And as I thought about the symbology of the first sighting of green....of life...I just couldn't get the picture of the dove with a leaf in her mouth out of my head. A dove coming to Noah. A dove falling on Jesus at his baptism. The sign of the Holy Spirit. Beautiful.

I love looking at the theme of creation, fall, redemption and restoration as the story that is unfolding. A story that God is still writing...

Unexpected visit

Chase was in Denton yesterday and came to spend the night at our house.

Unexpected drop-ins from grown kids is awesome.