The Words I Choose

**Note: This was a light-hearted blog that turned into a mini-sermon, but I think it's important so I will risk the uncool points.**

After reading Susan Isaac's blog on Jesus Jargon, I started thinking about the first time I realized there was an entire vocabulary specific to the Christian faith. When you grow up like I did, in a small town down south, you do so without much exposure to diversity. I grew up thinking, quite innocently, that everyone was just like me.

I was probably around 12 years old the first summer I spent at The Cove, a Christian camp set back in the mountains of western North Carolina and run by the Billy Graham ministries. Except for getting up at the butt crack of dawn, summer camp was a blast. Oh, and they made us write letters home. Never mind the fact we were only there for a week and most of us were an hour or 2 away from home, at most. At the time, I was not a big fan of writing letters. The act of writing a good letter is truly an art form, an art form I've still not mastered, much less at 12. But if I was required to write a letter, I decided it should speak of the things I had experienced and learned at camp, especially since my parents had footed the bill.

Since I have always had a flair for the dramatic, I used colorful language. All I really remember from that letter was writing about how I had had some sort of spiritual awakening (Christian Phrase #1). I described how before camp I was dead on the inside (Christian Phrase #2) and that getting up early for devotions had lit a fire in my soul (Christian Phrase #3), I was now spiritually alive (Christian Phrase #4).

I knew the letter was crap before I sent it, but I wanted my parents to feel like they were getting their money's worth. I was a ridiculously dutiful child. No really, for years I used to ask special permission of the wait staff at various restaurants to order off the kid's menu after I was technically too old just so the bill would be cheaper.

After I had been home from camp for 2 weeks and had long since forgotten the letter I wrote, my parents received it (gotta love the USPS). Well, my parents being who they are had trouble with some of the terminology I used in my letter. Number 1 and 3 they were fine with, it was 2 and 4 that sparked our discussion. You see, apparently, the term spiritually dead was only to be used in reference to the time in one's life before they became a Christian. I, on the other hand, had accepted Jesus as my personal savior (Christian Phrase #5) when I was 5 years old. I know, I know, another story for another time. The point my parents were trying to make was that if I were to speak to someone in terms of spiritually dead or alive (why do I feel a bad Christian remake of Bon Jovi coming on?) I better be speaking of pre-5 and post-5. Pre-camp and post-camp was simply, incorrect.

**Note: The fact that my parents would take the time to explain theology to a 12 year old speaks for itself, and I am a stronger believer (Christian Phrase #6) for it. Now, I am not saying they were right about everything, but their heart's desire (Christian Phrase #7) was to raise a daughter who would follow God.**

Although at 12 all these concepts were a little to difficult to grasp, I got the message. My words were important, and how I used them would shape the perceptions people formed of me. And perceptions are all too important in the church. Notice, I didn't say the Christian faith. The only people perceptions are important too are the Christians with something to hide, or at least something they think they should hide. There are things in my life I could hide, and while I don't advertise them in the bulletin, I also don't cringe at the thought of discussing them. I have sinned a. lot. And been forgiven a. WHOLE. lot. People need to know about the forgiveness.

Most of the characters of note in the Bible had major sin issues (Christian Phrase #8) to deal with, that's a point I don't think is made often enough. David cheated and murdered to acquire Bathsheba as his wife after she was already pregnant with his child (2 Samuel 11). Arguably, the most notable shotgun wedding of all Bible history. But in 2 Samuel 12:13, David admits his sin and the prophet(?) Nathan tells him, "The Lord has taken away your sin". Peter denied Jesus 3 times, and Jesus forgave him before the sin was ever committed. Luke 22:32, "But I have prayed for you Simon (Peter), that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers." That verse is amazing to me, in the space between the first and second sentences, Jesus acknowledges that Peter's faith will fail, and forgives him, only to give him a heavy responsibility in the second sentence.

Now, our logical minds would tell us you don't give the important jobs to the screw-ups. But God does that throughout the scriptures (Christian Phrase #9). We are all screw-ups, and if your not, you're hiding from yourself. That means none of us have any excuses. God seeks the broken people (Christian Phrase #10). Are you a lying, cheating murderer? I know I am, I have looked in the face of my God, turned away and run into the arms of "lovers less wild" so many times I can't even count. I have NO EXCUSE for not serving his kingdom (Christian Phrase #11), and if your a Christian, neither do you.

When Harry Met...Somebody Else?

Back in the day, you were my Harry. I remember watching this movie with you in the hotel room in Kingston with your parents. We had been friends for a year before we realized we were in love, it was a sweet time. I don't have to look at any of the pictures I put away long ago, I can see them all in my mind.

As history would tell it, you were my Joe.

It's really a miracle that I still love the movie so much, after all we went through. But I do. It's one of my favorites. Because...because, my Harry is still out there.

I hope you find your Kimberly.

Have fun storming the castle,
Me

Ephesians 5:14

"That is why it is said:
Wake up, sleeper,
rise from the dead

and Christ will shine on you."

This verse really hit me hard this morning. It was one of those moments where you feel it's talking straight to you. One reason could be related to the fact that I am not exactly shy about my love of and skill at the act of sleeping. I joke that it's my hobby, but it's really not a joke.

With the recent move across the country and the general upheaval of my life it's not surprising to me that I have been quite depressed. As a side effect, I am always tired no matter how much sleep I get.

So when this verse said 'Wake up, sleeper', I thought 'How?' and 'What do I need to wake up from?' Tonight, I don't have the answers, and mostly I just feel worse, on the verge of tears. The tears feel necessary but not appropriate, so they will stay in my head. But I still want to wake up and have Christ shine on me. But how, Lord?

Random one-liners that have no other place.

• Someday, I'll go to bed dirty and wake up clean.

• I miss being enjoyed.

• If you left in a blaze of glory, you can never go back.

• I still smile, I just haven't meant it in a while.

Lunch with my Dad, the Epilogue

A person really wants to believe the people they love aren't about to hurt them, even when she knows they will.

My first clue should have been when he asked me to lunch, but it wasn't. I didn't want to believe he always had an ulterior motive, especially when he doing something nice. I managed to stave off the suspicion until he mentioned the restaurant where we were headed was quiet. Even still, in a split second I convinced myself otherwise. He was just getting older and didn't like noisy places. (This has not been true of my father a day in his life, probably no one knows that better than me. It is simply astounding what I can convince myself of with very little effort.) The second clue was when he wouldn't talk about work. At that point, the ominous feeling that this lunch wasn't going to end well wouldn't leave. But it would be ignored. I wanted to believe my dad was honestly concerned, I desperately needed too. He ruined it, he turned a perfectly good lunch and my blind faith in the father I truly admire.

We don't want to believe our loved ones are capable of such premeditated infliction. If we did, we would be cynical and unable to enjoy or even notice the moments when there are no agendas. And we do believe there are moments without pretense, even if we've never seen them. We hope and we believe, because we love them.

Lunch with my Dad, Part 2

Dad: Now, I want us to be able to talk about this like adults, and I don't want you to get defensive.
Inner voice: Shields up? Check!
Me: Alright...
Dad: So, why did you get so upset the other night?
Inner voice: Because my mother hates my dog, and you defend her.
Me: Dad, you act like I just flew off the handle for no reason. Mom is the one who started it. I came home after working 10 hours, took the dog out, changed my clothes, and sat down with Mom in the living room. She immediately started in with. "Do you wanna tell me what happened out there (there being the screened-in porch)?" I remained calm, I really did, and just explained to her how I had tested the dog out there two days ago to see if he would be alright, and he was, for two and a half hours. So on Sunday I left him in there for church. When I came home from church he had chewed the top of the door handle. I was about to go into the part where I apologized, because I would never leave the dog out there without some evidence that led me to believe that he could handle it, but before I could say that, she interupted me. Dad, she completely went off, she must've been stewing on it for hours just waiting for me to get home. At that point I realized what she wanted was just to let me have it. So I just shut up, and then she got pissed cause I wouldn't say anything.
Dad: I highly doubt that she "went off" on you.
Me: Well, you weren't there, Dad.
Dad: This is a problem that needs to be dealt with, *Me*. How can we resolve this if we can't talk about it like adults?
Inner Me: Stop saying "like adults"! Until you see me throw a temper tantrum in the middle of this restaurant, please consider me an official adult.
Me: My whole issue is, I don't get why Mom is such a freak about a door knob. I mean, seriously, it doesn't have a heart beat and it sure isn't goin' to heaven with her when she dies. Shouldn't me and my dog be more important to her than her things?
Dad: *Me*, we knew it wasn't going to be easy having you and Shades living with us, but we understood that if you came so did the dog.
Me: Umm...ok.
Inner Me: Not exactly an anwer to my question...
Dad: I think the key is to set goals. Goals to paying off your debt, saving money...
Me: I do have a goal, March 1st, 2008. (Deducing from the look on Dad's face) What? Not soon enough?
Dad: I don't think so...er, but I think it would be better for your self esteem for you to be on your own. Don't you?
Inner me: I think...I think I am gonna lose it. I think you are a liar. I think Mom is making you miserable because the dog is making her miserable. I think Mom completely lacks compassion for living creatures. Until her life gets back to normal, neither will yours. And you will get your life back to normal, even if that means kicking your daughter out. I think you can't even tell yourself the truth behind why you already want me to move out, much less me. I think I won't say any of this out loud.
Me: (stunned and quiet) You're gonna need to give me a date, Dad, a date to move out by.
Dad: (incredulously) I don't have a date.
Me: Well, you sure know what date it isn't. Just tell me what date it is and I will move out.
Inner Me: Don't cry. Don't cry.
Dad: I don't have a date.
Me: (Eyes filling up with tears as I stare into the salad I won't be finishing)
Dad: I...just don't think it's good for your self esteem.
Me: (Tears streaming down my face, still looking at my salad) Ok.
Inner Me: I can't believe you did this to me. You know I have to go back to work now, and I am not the one with an office that I can retreat too. I have a cubicle, which anyone walking by can see into. I can't believe you did this to me...on purpose.
Dad: (paying the check) You're not going to have lunch with me ever again, huh?
Inner Me: Yeah, I wouldn't bet on it.
Me: (putting sunglasses on indoors to hide my punching bag face as I resist the temptation to run, not walk, out of the restaurant)

Lunch with my Dad, Part 1

Dad: Let's plan on havin' Lunch today. Can you do that?
Me: Sure. That'd be great!
Dad: What time can you go?
Me: Anytime. *El jefe* doesn't have anything til 3:30. Just come and get me when you are ready to go.
Dad: Ok.
Me: Cool.

~Cut to me and Dad in his truck.~

Me: Where are we headed?
Dad: Oh, I thought we'd go to *Super-swank steak house*. It's cool and quiet there.

~Cut to me and Dad in a back booth of the super-swank, super-teeming with people, and obviously not quiet restaurant.~

Me: What's going on for you today at work?
Dad: Eh, work is work. Let's talk about you.
Voice inside my head: Well...that was maybe the worst segue ever, but I'll play along.
Me: Ummm...Ok.
Dad: How's it goin' for you? How are your doing?
Me: Like work stuff?
Dad: No, how are you doing outside of work?
Voice inside my head: Man, I thought we were gonna have a nice lunch...
Me: Hmmm...it's been tough. To be honest I've been a little lonely, I haven't met anybody here that shares any of my interests...
Voice inside my head: ...music and beer...
Dad: I hope you've come to terms with being lonely for a long time. You're gonna be here for a while.
Me: (trying to wipe the look of shock off my face while still talking)
Voice inside my head: Wait, what did you just say?! Please tell me you didn't just say that! Is it possible that I could be even more pathetic than I feel right at this very moment? I can't process this information right now so I'm just gonna keep talking, like I didn't hear you...
Me: ... blah, blah, blah, I guess I've been hoping that work would have provided more social options than it seems to have presented so far.
Voice inside my head: In the name of all things holy, can we please talk about something that is not going to make me cry?
Dad: Well, we need to talk about what happened with your mother the other night...
Voice inside my head: That wasn't it, Dad. Do you really want to go there? The look on your face says "yes". It's just like you to take me out to a nice lunch, at a nice restaurant, just to watch me cry in public. Alright then, let's get into it. Maybe I can hold it together...