14 For the Exiles

Having been Presbyterian since the womb (and hailing from a long line of male Presbyterian pastors on my mom's side of the family), I don't know much about the Saints that my Episcopalian and Catholic friends esteem. 

But I do appreciate Kate and Jessica's story about Saint Rose (from the 13th century) who was rejected by the religious order she so desperately wanted to join and now is remembered each year in her hometown in Italy with a procession that honors "the memory of people who don't fit in. She's known as the saint of exiles. Wanderers. Those refused hospitality by religious communities" (pp 79-80). 

I'm not sure when exactly this started to happen, but I have developed a very tender heart toward those who feel like exiles or outcasts. Especially who feel like exiles and outcasts from the church. 

Which is weird because my experience of church (for the most part) is one of being valued and honored. 

In a lot of ways, I'm a quintessential church person who probably makes some non-church people roll their eyes -- I once had a friend who would call me Luke Skywalker and refer to herself as Darth Vader! She meant it as a joke, but we both knew she felt there was some truth under the joking.   

That's part of who God designed me to be; I can't do much about that.

But what I can do is leverage that part of my identity. I can study what it means to be a trustworthy person because I think exiles and outcasts don't trust the church. (And in many cases, there's very good reason for that.) 

[This is definitely going to be part of my sermon on Sun, May 8, 2022!] 

I can leverage my natural tendencies to care, be sincere, be reliable, and be (semi)competent enough to give folks a reason to give the church another chance. 

I love what Kate and Jessica say on page 80: "Part of our identities as people of faith is found in community. We are not islands, but reliant on one another to remake us, pull us toward God, and be a soft place to land." 

I can be a soft place to land when people feel God calling to them ... even if they never thought they'd be willing to give church a chance again. Or for the first time.

Pastor Allison 

I'm curious: 

Do you feel like an exile or an outcast from the church? Are you one who has been hurt by the church and while you're still on speaking terms with God, you don't care for God's children much? What would it take for you to give the Body of Christ another chance? 

On page 83 in "A Prayer for When You Don't Belong," Kate and Jessica write, You loved what the world devalued and demeaned: 'the poor, the sick, foreigners, women, those deemed unclean, the imprisoned'. Does your path regularly cross with someone the world (or the church) devalues and demeans? Is there some small way you can honor and love them without making too much of a fuss? 

13 Needing Rules at All

I'm a very good rule-follower by nature and nurture. In my formative years, I went to a conservative college that had lots of rules. And I was happy to follow those rules; it was easy to know what was right and what was wrong, what to do and what not to do. 

(At least, according to the institution what is right/should do and what was wrong/shouldn't do.) 

Even now, as I have mellowed with age and learned the beauty of a "both/and life" (instead of everything being either/or), I still make an excellent Pharisee - one who is inclined to enforce the letter of the law than the spirit of it. 

But Kate and Jessica offer a different perspective. 

"Freedom and constraint. We hunger for both. A life of faith must have room for both." (p 75) 

I think this is another return to Chapter 1 and the discussion of the Regula and chapter 8 When Good Things Become Burdens. 

So maybe now's a good time to check in, almost 2 weeks (theoretically!) into our 40(ish) days of leaving behind the pursuit of perfection and, instead, seeking CONTENTMENT. 

Are you designing a regula that fits you? Something that is manageable but not a burden? 

Or have you started adding all sorts of things or pressure to yourself so that now this has become something you dread rather than something that gives you life and joy? 

Around the end of last year, I started journaling online using Penzu. I'm definitely an analog, paper person, but I never seemed to have a journal with me when I needed it. 

(I remember my preacher grandfather would always carry around a small spiral notebook with a pen in his shirt pocket, but women's fashion, unfortunately, does not lend itself to this habit.) 

But I do always have my phone with me. So when the urge/Spirit strikes, I can whip it out and type something. And Penzu will send me an email in the evening reminding me to write an entry, then send me another email in the morning congratulating me on making it another day and what kind of a streak I'm on. 

Both of these things were incredibly helpful ... until I started to let the need to keep that streak alive (follow the rules) matter so much that as I was falling asleep at night, I would open up an entry, type a few words, then close it again. 

I followed the letter of "the law" but fell far short of the spirit. The competitor in me loves to keep that streak alive - along with my Wordle streak too! - but I know I need to balance that with a sense of grace and honesty concerning how much good that almost-empty entry is really going to do for me and my regula. 

So, in case you need to begin again, make sure you read "A Prayer for This Time of Change" on page 77: " ... Forgive my little (often very fun) rebellions that deceive me into thinking they're for my good. And protect me in this tender time of change." 

Pastor Allison 

I'm curious: 

In the "A Good Enough Step" in this entry, Kate and Jessica talk about picking a "spiritual cue" to act as a reminder or a prompt for our regula (p 78). Do you have a cue in place already? How is it working for you? Do you need to create another one? 

 

12 Right After It's Over

Perhaps it's been a while since "your life snapped at the stem," as Kate and Jessica write (p 69). Or maybe your wound is still fresh and raw. 

Depending on where you are in the healing journey, I'm not sure how helpful this chapter will be to you, but I suspect, if it doesn't speak to you know, it will. Someday. I hope it at least gives you something to hope for in the future if it feels out of reach right now. 

I know this isn't exactly the image of the tree she talks about, but I'm guessing it's pretty close:

This palm tree, as they write, "made a series of important choices" - "in a shocking act of hubris" it decides to grow sideways and then "rather impertinently, grew straight toward the sky" (pp 68-69). 

In the aftermath of our life snapping, the best we can do is survive. "Try to sleep. Remember to eat. Keep breathing" (p 69). 

And while it is SO. VERY. TEMPTING. to think we need to bounce back right away - even better than we were before life snapped! -- perhaps a better use for our time would be to linger in the moment, connecting with our humanity where it really is OK to be sad and afraid and tired and confused. 

Not to stay there, for sure, but to linger there long enough to admit those things to ourselves and to God and maybe even to a friend. And to let God and a friend sit and linger with us in that place before we "move forward" (p 71). 

Friends, these seem like especially important words for us to be reading right now -- the week that Naomi Judd died by suicide just a day before being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame and the news of a third Division 1 female athlete's death (James Madison University's star catcher Lauren Bernett) by suicide. 

"Please, please, please, hear me say to you: You are not ruined or broken or a failure. You are simply in pain. And God is with you. This is God's great magic act, in my opinion. The more we suffer, the more we can't get away from God's insistent love (p. 70)." 

Again, maybe it's been a while since the trunk of your life snapped, or maybe the snap is still fresh and raw. 

But I still think these words are for all of us: 

"Blessed are you, starting to sense that maybe sunlight can reach you, even here. And you reach out, finding yourself in a fierce embrace. And God's voice saying: You are not the bad thing. You are not ruined. You are not broken, nor over, nor a failure, nor learning a lesson. You are my suffering one, and you are love, you are loved, you are loved" (p 72). 

Pastor Allison 

I'm curious: 

I've been thinking a lot about the Henry David Thoreau quote Kate and Jessica include at the end of this reflection: 

"Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh." 

I've always heard people rather proudly say they never have any regrets. Which I guess means they just accept what happens as what happens. If you are someone who regularly says this, how would you respond to the idea of "making the most of your regrets?" 

How might cherishing our sorrows might lead to "life afresh?" Can you even wrap your mind around that, or is it just too far outside of your experience of life and loss so far? 

11 Happy Enough

Kate and Jessica remind us that we all live inside an "economy of desire" (p 63). We all (think we) want "Big Moments" (p 62) that will provide enough mountaintop experiences to last a lifetime. 

But here's the thing: if we only define our lives by "big moments," we'll constantly be left wanting more and working harder to make more moments and being even more disappointed when the big moments don't pan out. 

It can quickly turn into a mindset of scarcity. 

Fill in your own desire blank: 

I'll never be _____________ enough. 

Never good enough. 
Never perfect enough. 
Never thin enough. 
Never powerful enough. 
Never successful enough. 
Never smart enough, certain enough, safe enough. 

It's so simple to look at the people around you (in-person or through a screen), and lament all the places where you think you'll never be "________ enough." 

Perhaps in today's devotional we have reached the heart of what Kate and Jessica's book Good Enough is all about: leaving behind the pursuit of perfection and instead, seeking CONTENTMENT. 

They write, "Desire can feel like an endless hunger, but there is a feeling we get when we feel full: contentment" (p 62).

I appreciate Kate's story about her mom (pp 63-64) and the grand, old stained-glass window that wasn't nearly as stupendous as expected, but how her mom was "pleased as punch anyway because, hey, it was good enough" (p. 64). 

I suppose this ties in a bit with the reflection on "Mourning a Future Self" we talked about last week, but for today I want to think about what it means to be full. 

And satisfied. And to feel like the life I'm living is enough. 

It's definitely not the life I thought I'd be living (as I mentioned here), but I'm learning to pay closer attention to the "big moments" that happen in the quiet moments of my life. 

Like last night's impromptu dinner out with friends: by the time we were finished, my belly was full and my heart was content. There was nothing too remarkable about the gathering, and yet because of the people who gathered around that table and how much they mean to me, it felt incredibly remarkable. Unforgettable even. 

Yet it's something that's likely to happen again the next time someone messages the group to say they don't want to cook and does anyone else want to get something to eat?

And I know that when I reheat yesterday's dinner leftovers for today's lunch, I will remember that feeling of being satisfied and content. 

Blessed are you, they write, amid the ordinary details that define what life is for you, right now. And as you see them, greet them - each one - as you smile and call them by name. Everyday joys. Small pleasures. Birds chirping. Cat cuddles. A cold glass of water. A little child calling your name. The breeze on your cheeks. The ocean rhythm. The perfect pillow. The kindness of a friend. Loves that are and were and ever will be" (p 65, "A Blessing for the Life You Have"). 

Pastor Allison 

I'm curious: 

How would you fill in the "never ____________ enough" blank? Do Kate and Jessica say anything in this chapter that speaks to that desire? Can you imagine what contentment might feel like if you managed to let go of that standard or expectation you may never live up to? Why do you think you're still holding on to it? 

In the "A Good Enough Step," they write, "Whisper a prayer of gratitude for the best of life right now." What's the best of life right now for you? 

On page 67, they quote Thomas Merton saying, "Gratitude therefore takes nothing for granted, is never unresponsive, is constantly awakening to new wonder and to praise of the goodness of God." How much does gratitude play into contentment? Could focusing on gratitude be the first step for you to getting over the "never __________ enough" stumbling block? 

10 When You Are Exhausted

You'll never guess what just happened. 

I have had a long week full of wonderful, rich, meaningful conversations, which I LOVE! But it has left me exhausted. I feel like I'm almost out of words, which if you know me, you'd never expect to hear me, of all people, say. 

And in the midst of that, some things also happened that left me feeling bruised. 

Bruised and exhausted, I opened up Good Enough because it was time to write another reflection ... and there was the entry title: "When You Are Exhausted." 

And when my eyes landed on the line "And, eventually, something stirs and busies itself within me, doing some kind of mysterious interior repair. I become a little more myself" (p 56), my soul sighed. 

I'm still trying to figure out what the "mysterious interior repair is" exactly and how I might nurture and encourage its work - especially today. (There's probably something in my regula that could help, so that's where I'm starting. For review: check out this and this.) 

But what I think I most appreciate about today's reading is, "But here is the truth. You are in this - this chronic, unfixable condition called life - and yet at the same time, you are precious beyond rubies. You are worth protecting and preserving. You are meant to be intact" (p 58). 

So my work for the day is to figure out what kind of rest I need. 

And before you suggest taking a nap (which is part of the plan!), I've also read that there are different types of rest. I have no idea how scientific this is exactly, but I've experimented with some of these, and it worked for me.  

"I feel alone. The parenting. The endless to-dos. The juggling too much. The spread too thin. O God, I cry out to You from the ends of the earth: Show me again how this works -- how You bring dry bones to life. Help me." (p 59) 

Pastor Allison 

I'm curious 

From page 60: "God built rest into the very architecture of creation. Jesus even took a nap on the bow of a ship in the middle of a storm. 

"If God rests ... and Jesus rests, certainly we can too. ... What brings you rest?"