bronnyblog

Are you Religious?

2005-08-30T15:33:00.000-07:00

I was searching for some papers in the depths of my drawer. I never found what I was looking for, but I came across something I wrote a few years ago. (In the very DEEP depths of my drawer.) I'm not sure exactly what "space" I was in when I wrote this rhyming ramble, (I couldn't venture to call it poetry,) but I believe I was responding to a question that the world frequently asks me: "Are you religious?" It sounds so much like a dirty word, and with good reason too. I often don't know how to respond. I am not ashamed of the Gospel, but does that force me to answer "yes"? Personally, I believe the question begs the question: "What do you mean by religious?"
In light of the weight that this question holds, and the different sentiments towards the word "religion," here is my ballad to answer the world's question:

Are You Religious?

She asks me if I'm religious

I smile and say "no"

"Spiritual, perhaps?"

But there's nothing to show.

The church passes by

There's shame on the street

Is it written in His blood?

Is this my defeat?

I wonder what I'm ashamed of

I don't wonder long

A cry from my heart

As they lead Him along.

Preachers, priests, and bishops, oh my!

They did not care should we live or die

Just follow my rules:

I don't love you

You're wrong

I need my power

You need to belong.

It's not about love, nor a creator on high

But the power to oppress and the power to lie.

Many have fought in His Precious Name

To destroy the nations and bring Him shame.

Might as well have ignored the woes of man's hearts

Cast them upon their backs and stolen their arts.

They're sitting in their living rooms, worshipping their T.V.

There's something they are missing

There's something they do not see.

Maybe on a Sunday, they worship in that church

Cookie cut-outs and kool-aid and identical buttoned shirts.

I feel saved, I feel good

But the children are crying

As we're nailing the wood...

"Sorry," I say, "I did what I should"

"Perhaps my organization will do what it could."

They're shocked by differences while trying to fit in

Following a revolutionist

Not knowing where to begin.

So carry your own burden

As they fail to see

They might as well be killing you,

Nailing you to a tree.

This is not what I love

This is not what I know

So when she asks if I'm religious,

I simply say "no."

But there's something inside of me

That makes my heart cry

For the love of a man

Who was willing to die.

It's not about a building with a cross way up high

Nor the myth of a man who lives in the sky

Peel away your thoughts of corrupted mortal men

In the nakedness of time,

Let's start this one again

Have you ever sought perfection while creating something new?

Been frustrated by the failure and wondered what to do?

Gone out into the wild, where trees can still be found?

Wondered at their majesty or the ocean's mighty sound?

The beauty of this world is perfection undefined

Like the song of a poet to a knowledge-seeking mind.

There's something there to worship

There's something there to love

Call it "Mother Earth" or a spirit from above.

A creator's a Creator

And science can't explain

The simple love and beauty

This world cannot contain

Amidst our evil-doings

This love is found anew

In the compassion of a man

Who did what we should do.

Holding Hearts

2005-08-28T21:00:00.000-07:00

I believe I was given a vision. I would love to share it, but I fear that no words can truly explain what I felt. We were in church singing an ordinary song with ordinary people on an ordinary Sunday morning. My heart was heavy as I sang. The words were worshipful, but inside I was grumbling. Morning gatherers had seemed unusually stressed as they were frantically doing their part to assure that this morning's service would be perfect. After all, the Bishop was coming! "This is not a concert," I mumbled to myself. "The 'success' of a church cannot be measured by the ways of the world..." My mind was clouded by cynicism, yet out of my mouth came "sweet sounds of praise." Right! (insert sarcasm here). Recognizing my own hypocrisy, I prayed: "Father, forgive me. Help me, Lord, not to judge. Help me to forgive. Free my mind from all distractions that my spirit may truly worship you." As I continued to sing I felt the urge to hold hands with those beside me. I imagined others doing likewise. I imagined the whole congregation linking hands together and lifting its one voice to the heavens above. It was beautiful. I got distracted. "Hey," I thought. "We should do that sometime." I began to think about making the suggestion when I felt a strong reprimand. "No Bronwyn!" It was almost as if someone was whispering in my ear: "Not hands, but hearts. Link to each other with your hearts." I could sense that God was trying to show me something, but I wasn't quite getting it. I tried to listen harder, and raised my voice louder - and then I saw... (or felt or heard, or something!) Imagine the picture of a whole group of people linking hands for one great cause - but imagine that instead of hands they were truly linked in the hearts. For a brief moment I felt that I was a part of something so much greater than I, greater than my sins, my faults and my lack of understanding. Greater than the sins and faults and the lack of understanding of the one standing next to me, and behind me, and in front. It was so great that nothing, no-one, nobody mattered. I believe it is called the Body of Christ. The Body of Christ is the adored bride presented blameless before the Father, and that Sunday morning as I was called to be at church and worship in a community, I knew that all I had to do was step in, take my place among the ordinary people in the mundane pews, and link hearts with my brothers and sisters to be a part of something extraordinary. Like a soldier choosing to step in line under his leader and say "count me in!" Suddenly I felt no judgment, no condemnation, no frustration. Just love. I was overcome with love for those standing around me. In that moment I knew that we all needed each other, because together we are made righteous before God - and worship Him most beautifully. I have never felt so wonderfully small yet a part of something so awfully big. I wanted to embrace everyone around me and declare "Bless You! Bless You!" from the depth of my heart. The music stopped, but the feeling/vision continued. I tried to hang on to it, whatever it was, but eventually I got distracted. The world took over and suddenly, it was just church, a sermon and a hard pew. I fought hard to keep the cynicism from returning. I think I succeeded, but only by grace. I spent a few moments catching my breath, and then many more attempting to rewind my thoughts so that I could "feel" it just one more time, but alas, I could not. Nonetheless, I thank God for the experience, and pray that it would never cease to influence who I am and who I believe the Body of Christ to be. Did God share with me a vision of what He desires the Body of Christ to be? Perhaps. Or perhaps He simply shared with me what He would like me to be in relation to those around me, and is challenging me to love my neighbour more. Regardless, I desire to share this experience with you, my reader. (For whatever it is worth.) My apologies if it makes no sense.

Madly in Love

2005-08-17T22:19:00.000-07:00

A hike through an old-growth forest. Huge trees give away to wild rhododendrons, salal, and red cedar. We go up into the thinning air, the thinning forest. Meadows. Every colour you can imagine. Wild blueberries for dessert. Lakes to swim in and hot sun making me sweat as I climb to glacier peaks. Tundra that rolls on and on. Mountains in every direction. Huge grandeur next to a tiny alpine daisy. Amazing. I'm madly in love. In love with the earth; In love with her creator. In love with the chipmunk, the tiger lilies, and the bright yellow mushroom. I'm in love with my husband, his manliness and his smile. I'm in love with being a woman, with the oneness of myself and God and a plain of wild flowers. I want to be adored. I want to adore. I dream of a fairy tale, and wish it were mine... But it is. I forget about the things that don't matter, and when I look at what's left, life is so good. And, yet, there is a heaven...
I'm in love with all that I should be in love with it - may I not forget this in the process of typing at my computer, grimacing at the time and thinking of tomorrow's engagements. May I fall in love all over again - in the experience of brushing my teeth. Hear my prayer, oh Awesome Beautiful God.
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall, still be my vision oh Ruler of All.

With What Judgment You Judge

2005-08-12T22:48:00.000-07:00

Recently I felt myself getting fed up with the rotten attitude of others. I mean, for goodness sake, couldn't people just be happy? I find it so frustrating when people choose to be offended, choose to be grumpy, and choose to treat others like crap on account of it. On this particular occasion I was not only frustrated at someone's attitude, but was deeply hurt as this person's offense was based on such a huge misunderstanding of my personal intentions that I could only conclude that this friend had no real idea of who I am as a person. A painful experience, but such as life. Interestingly enough, I chose, in that circumstance, to be offended by someone else's offense! But of course I didn't notice this because I was too busy worrying about how somebody else had wounded me to even consider holding my own response up to the light. A few days after the fact, I went camping with some friends. Now, I am usually a happy person, cheery, and somewhat easy going (I think), but this time... My goodness! Talk about an irritable, impatient, grumpy-old ... (I could think of many words to describe my nature, but I'll leave that to the imagination of the reader) ...
I excused my attitude and behavior by reasoning that we are all entitled to a bad day, or two or three... Then I realized the catch: ALL! Funny how I chose to excuse myself on this account, but failed to apply the same principle to others. By the end of the trip I recognized a lesson being taught, though I have a lot to learn in applying it! I found myself crying out to the Lord for His forgiveness and for His help in restoring me with a positive attitude. As He did, I was reminded that when I am blessed with a positive attitude that may be encouraging to others, it is only by God's grace, and when my temperament leaves something to be desired - perhaps I should check up on the last time I tried to judge someone else for having a bad attitude!
Stop judging, so that you shall not be judged, for with what judgment you judge, you will be judged, and with what measure you measure, it will be measured to you. Matthew 7:1-2

Curious Incidents of the Uncontrollable Mind

2005-08-09T18:16:00.000-07:00

Phew! Today I gave blood for the first time.

As an aside I am thankful to my friend Ben who pointed out to me that giving blood is just one of those things that doesn't cost us much, but means an incredible amount to those receiving it. Like many people, I'd just never thought about it - but now I have, and now I will continue to give. Thank you Ben.

Anyway, the experience ended up being rather unnerving. I am NOT one who has problems seeing blood, whether my own or someone else's, and I definitely have no trauma relating to needles. To be honest I have trouble understanding how people can have physical reactions to situations that are apparently psychologically induced. The idea of being completely and utterly "out of mind," or unable to control thoughts or emotions to an extent that it causes uncontrollable physical reactions, is a phenomena that I have met with a certain degree of skepticism, or at very least an element of curiosity, (and ignorance). Indeed, I have felt powerful waves of frustration, or violent tears that seem unrelenting, but deep down inside I have always known that I possess the power to forego the emotion or to stop the tears if I really wanted to, and sometimes I do. Relatively speaking, I guess I'm an emotionally secure person. Or so I've always thought...

I've gone through all the questioning procedures, drank my glass of sugary juice; the needle goes in and I calmly watch the plastic sack as it fills with my blood. I observe the people around me: reading magazines, talking to the volunteers in little red aprons, or struggling to answer the "Name that Tune" puzzles posted on the wall. All the while, the blood is draining from the veins in our arms. No Problem. Number 6: My traveling companion is nine years old. He is the child of my first marriage... I smile. Graceland. The time is ticking away. I gaze lovingly at Peter in the chair next to me. He is almost done. The nurses think it's cute that a young married couple would do this together. I feel a little light-headed, giddy almost, but I resist the urge to laugh. This is to be expected, I suppose. After all, I am giving blood. Peter and I begin to talk about how easy this whole process is. How the bus takes us straight from home to here, and how little of our time this is taking. We should do this often, we concur. My head feels lighter. Now I am dizzy. I have no urge to laugh. "Peter?" It is getting more difficult to see him. "Peter, I feel kind of dizzy..." "You should tell someone," he says. I wave my arm a little. A few faint "excuse me's" escape from my mouth, but I really don't want to create a scene. Suddenly Peter is gone. Blackness creeps in from the corners of my eyes...I'm loosing it. My head feels so terrible! I'm spinning, I'm hurting, It's tingling... I'm going to be sick, I'm going to be sick. "Open your eyes! Keep them open!" Voices are shouting at me. I open my eyes but all I can see is light and colours. There's a face in front of me, but I can't tell who it is. "Focus! Keep your eyes open!" I can hear them talking to me, "You're fine... You're okay... You're fine..." Am I ?! I am going to be sick! I can't keep my eyes open, my head - it's being crushed! Breathe, breathe, breathe. Damp cloths on my face bring some relief. I didn't realize how hot I was. "They help!" I mutter, in response to the cloths. "I feel sick! I'm sick!" "You're fine, you're okay..." "Will it ever stop?" I wonder. I feel like I'm plunging deeper and deeper towards the inevitable.. But what that is, I don't know; all I know is I don't want it. Breathe, focus, breathe. I try to make out faces, but I can't see. There were windows on that wall, but I can't see them anymore. Paul Simon is gone. Peter is gone. Breathe. Arhh... I'm going to be sick. I'm desperate. I kick my shoes off, and toss back and forth. So hot! More cloths: that's all I can hope for. I just want to sleep. I'm tired of keeping my eyes open...
"Look at me! You're fine. You have to believe that!" The nurse is in front of me. I look at her but I can barely see. I try to relax. I take a deep breath to prevent my gag reflex. It feels good. I take a few more. "It's better, It's better," I keep telling myself. Minutes pass, cloths are changed. Maybe I won't throw-up. What a relief. I still can't see. My head feels awful, but I think I'm going to be okay. So I wait, and I breathe. I can see figures coming and going, but for me, time has stopped. I have no desire to move. "Drink this juice," says the nurse, "I'll throw-up," says I. "You won't feel better until you have it." "Water instead?" I try to compromise. "No, juice." I take some deep breathes and begin to drink. It tastes awful. I need a break. Eventually I'll finish. "Chew this," Mmmm, straight sugar squares crumbling in my mouth. I drink three glasses of juice and two sugar squares, but it takes an eternity. I wait... and wait. I can make out faces. Peter is no longer beside me. Where did he go? Is he still waiting for me? I can see the wall, and the windows! But everything is blurry. I blink. "Focus!" This time I'm shouting at myself. But I still can't focus. Oh well. I wait. I observe people walking around , and can see others calmly donating their blood. "What's wrong with me?" I wonder. The nurse comes around, "Are you feeling better?" she asks. I let out an affirmative sigh, but wish I could feel better still. "Just so you know, " says the nurse, "these reactions are often psychological." Really?! "They are often reflective of peoples' anxiety towards the process." But, but... How can that be?! I am completely confused. I am somewhat reassured by the nurses further comments concerning my low blood pressure being barely above the "normal" line, and my body weight being barely above the requirements for giving blood. I am also told that had I been better hydrated, and had I had a protein meal more recently, this would not have been so difficult. I feel better knowing that this reaction was not purely the result of an uncontrollable mind, but I still feel like an idiot. "You gave 90% of the blood, and we stopped it at 13 minutes," I am told. Rats - all that and I didn't even succeed in the end. I can almost read the Graceland lyrics on the opposite wall. Peter! I can see him on the other side of the room. He smiles at me, winks, and mouths the words, "I love you." I no longer feel like a failure. It is my power to go on...

What seemed like hours later, I got up, and we went home. I've been weak all day, but I will not be defeated! On the way out we made an appointment to donate blood again in a few months. I will eat an egg and drink two liters of water if I have to, but the rest, I suppose is "all in my head." This was the first time that I have ever experienced the effects of an "uncontrollable mind." Call me crazy, but I am determined to control it. Next time I will not go out of my mind.

How Ironic

2005-08-05T23:35:00.000-07:00

In many ways I am a luddite. I believe in one on one conversations, person to person relationships and entertainment that builds community. Technology has a tendency to destroy these ideals (or so I often preach). And here I am creating a blog. . . How very ironic. I'm putting my prejudices aside, giving this high-tech form of self-expression a chance, and entering the massive community of bloggers in hopes of sharing thoughts that may strengthen others, challenge me and open doors to deeper thoughts and friendships. Or perhaps I'm just being a hypocrite.