Category: healing | Page 17 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

The Gift of Grace

Been reading a book that explained grace in less than 306 pages.

So in Christ God did for man what neither he, no one else, nor anything else could do for him. That is the very essence of grace… grace means that God gives us what we need, not what we deserve.
Originally the Greek word rendered “grace” meant to make a gift, then to forgive a debt, then to forgive a wrong, and finally to forgive sin. So basically grace is a gift, as expressed in Romans 3:24. Literally, “Being declared righteous as a gift by his grace through the full redemption, the one in Christ Jesus.”
Note that salvation is not “out of yourselves” or “out of works” as the source. It is “of God the gift”. It is by grace made possible in the individual through his faith. Good works are the fruit, not the root, of salvation.

I’ve never heard it explained that way. Grace is a gift. We can’t earn a gift. A person doesn’t beg for a gift. A person can’t ask for a gift and it still be a true gift. A real gift- at least to me- is undeserved, unexpected, unmerited, and completely free (it doesn’t come with strings attached- such as ‘do this and you’ll get it,’ ‘do that and you can keep it’).

Also a gift, by it’s very nature of being a gift, cannot be something we earned. (If we earned it, it’s a wage. We earned our wage- Rom 6:23. Don’t like the wages. The gift is much better!)

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But wait… we shouldn’t stray too far that way, or we’ll get an “anything goes” attitude! No, not if we’re sincere. If I get a gift from someone, what should I do with it? I’d be ungrateful if I flung any gift away, but if it’s something I need, I know I need it, and I refuse to use it, then how much more so!! Yet the giver doesn’t take that gift back. He doesn’t come, knock on the door, and say “Pardon me, I noticed you haven’t used my wonderful gift. Give it back so I can give it to someone more appreciative!” He might not give me more gifts, but he certainly won’t take away the gift I’ve been given.

Sure, we could toss a gift aside. We could refuse it. But if we love the giver, we’ll value and treasure the gift, and the gift will mean that much more. And in loving the giver, we’ll want to give back what small tokens we can.

And to me that’s freedom. We can follow rules because we have to in order to earn something unobtainable, or we can rest assured knowing we’ll be given what we need, responding freely, in love, to the One who gave so much to us. Each might look the same outwardly, but one is done from fear, while the other is done through faith, from a cheerful, willing heart, the overflow of an abundance of the Giver’s love.

Church Membership

Well, I’ve reached the point where I really want to be a PART of a church again. Not just to attend, but to be actively involved. I’m not sure what I’d like to do or how I’d like to be involved yet. I don’t really want to teach a class or be involved with the young people right now–I don’t want to face down someone with ideas I disagree with, and I know I have some beliefs that are completely at odds with most of the sorts of churches I’ve attended so far. (There are other churches that might be more in agreement with those beliefs, but I disagree with them on other fundamental issues.)

I’ve enjoyed going to Bible study at one church and services at another. I’d be tempted to go to Sunday School at one and church at another if I could find two whose service times matched enough that I could. Still, it would be so nice to feel needed at a church, an active part of the group, doing something with them to make a difference. I guess it’s really been years since I really felt that connection. And it’s been a couple since I wanted it.

So… I want to be part of a church that’s also involved in the community. Just cleaning the church because “God gave us this building” or whatever isn’t going to be enough for me. I want to do something that will benefit others in some way. There are churches in this area that are very involved in the community, almost to the exclusion of Jesus. There are others that treat every involvement as an evangelistic opportunity (to preach at them). I don’t agree with either of these thought processes. There are also many that don’t get involved in anything outside their walls. I think that’s very sad. Many are desperate for workers and dump more and more on anyone willing to help. That’s also sad.

I wonder how long I will be at a church, or whether or not I’ll feel comfortable enough to join. There are things I disagree with, like tithing, that have left several people scratching their heads. There are rumors my former church took everyone’s paychecks and gave them some money back to pay bills–so they shouldn’t be that surprised, I’m thinking. Still, if I wind up in a church that expects those types of commitments, there will be problems. On the other hand, the pastor of the church I’m attending would probably be very understanding and accepting of my disagreements and various odd beliefs as long as I didn’t promote them in his church. For now, I know we disagree on many things from Trinity to the age of the earth, but he doesn’t realize it. But I also know his wife may disagree on some of those points or at least on his way of presenting them. Obviously their disagreements haven’t been a salvational thing or a test of fellowship between them.

So I don’t know. I can go, I can help while I’m there, and then eventually I can leave. Or I can put down a few tentative roots and see how things go. The things I like about the church aren’t even really doctrinal. I like the stability–they agree on a few fundamentals and I share those beliefs. I like the friendliness, the proximity to my home, the fact that I’m accepted even if I haven’t joined and even when I blow their minds with some off-the-wall statement, the fact that I already know quite a few people from my previous job… (which is humorous. Apparently for all the rumors that I only hired people from FT, I actually hired more from this church, and had many MANY fewer problems from them!) I really like the fact that people say “thank you,” don’t push (physically or for me to do anything), and have some shared interests with me. I really REALLY like the fact that the pastor doesn’t think of himself above anyone else. No reserved parking place, even!

But are those reasons to join a church? How long would I stay, especially knowing that I disagree on some other things, or that I dislike a few things (the way they do studies based on people’s books, their focus on ‘witnessing’)? Should I trust them, even if so far I don’t see any really unhealthy signs? Am I just latching onto anyone right now, or falling into the same old trap of love bombing?

I don’t know the answers to these questions. A few I think I may know, but I’m still cautious.

Just thinking out loud.

Just Being Neighborly

I was reminded of the Good Samaritan today…

This morning on my way into church, there was a vehicle with a flat tire. I told an usher (I don’t usually go there) and he looked out, shrugged and said he didn’t know whose it was. He didn’t go out of his way to find out, either. I told another, and he didn’t help either. After church I waited around. The vehicle didn’t leave… most people did. I left a note under the wiper blade and went back in one last time to ask if it belonged to a friend of mine who lives out in the country, knowing she wouldn’t be able to change it or air it up where she was headed. The pastor was the first one I saw, and I asked if he knew anything about the vehicle. Immediate concern, and then ‘I hope it’s not…’ He looked out, immediately thanked me and went out to look at the tire. It apparently belonged to someone who was struggling with some things. If we’d let them drive off, they might have had to pay for a tire they couldn’t afford, and more than that, they might have wondered if anyone cared. As it was, they came out to find the pastor and a deacon down on their knees looking for the nail in the tire and (I’m guessing) offering to fix it for them for free. Wish those things happened much more often.

I’m still sorting through that. I’ve been debating going regularly to this church. Frankly, the services don’t impress me, but it’s only about three blocks from my house, services are decent, I have several friends there, and… well, several reasons that don’t make it a good church but don’t make it bad either. I like the pastor. He seems to have his head screwed on straight. He listens and is involved but doesn’t put himself forward. If I hadn’t gone back in that last time to check on my friend, and he hadn’t responded as he did, I probably wouldn’t have gone back more than once more. The others I asked really didn’t seem to care. One had even forgotten about it when I went back to ask if he’d found the owner. But his response and the deacon’s (my friend’s husband)… I could live with a church with that kind of heart.

Then too, I was embarrassed because I left after I knew someone would take care of it. But there’s nothing I could have done if I’d stayed. “Yup, it’s flat alright.” They knew that. My extra input on that matter wouldn’t have been helpful at that particular moment. So I know that was a kick back from my former church. I actually TALKED to a pastor (big no-no for me right now) and then I left him in the dirt on the pavement to fix it himself and drove off (which my former pastor would have frowned on if it had been him).

The parable came to mind… who’s your neighbor? I feel I did what God wanted me to do–and more than that, maybe saw what He wanted me to see, whether I decide to go there or not. Just knowing there are people out there who aren’t offended that you don’t do more, take things in stride, and want to help people was a huge benefit to me.

Tattoo

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on August 23, 2015.

So I got a tattoo.

In April this year, the word I’d written in Sharpie on my wrist for two years was etched into my skin. Became a part of me. It was kind of a spiritual experience.

Here, I’ll explain.

A couple of my friends from CleanPlace, the writer’s forum I joined in 2009, did a lot of growing recently. One of them had been writing “love” on her wrist for four years, inspired by To Write Love On Her Arms and suicide prevention.

Mary's tattoos. Love and Grace. — Mary’s tattoos. Love and Grace.

Another one hated herself, despised her name. She begged God to give her a new name, and she heard a name: Glory.

“I wanted a name I could grow into. I wanted something I could become. Something I could keep becoming and never completely finish being. Something that was bigger, grander, limitless,” she said.

And they marked these revelations on their bodies, etched them permanently. They didn’t want to slip back into those old patterns of self-loathing, they wanted something to mark their healing.

It’s like the ancient practice of standing stones.

In both Jewish and pagan tradition, people used stones to mark significant events, like this:

The stones were supposed to prompt questions.

Ray VanderLaan, who studies Jewish culture and archeology, explains to his Israel tour group: “Anybody who walked by and saw them could say ‘Woah, what happened here?’ And you could say, ‘Let me tell you what God did.'”

And I think that’s what my friends and I wanted. A sort of living memorial.

I used to believe that any body modification would damage my body as a temple of God when I was a fundamentalist. Then I pierced my ears for the first time in May 2014.

I’d read the verses in Leviticus about not tattooing yourself for the dead, but the context was 1) for the dead and 2) that’s Old Testament regulations anyway, which don’t apply under the new covenant.

There’s another practice in the Old Testament that interested me: piercing the ears of a slave who asked to be a bondservant for life. Because they chose it, because it wasn’t forced loyalty.

I don’t want to leave Christianity.

I’m just tired of watching people distort and manipulate something beautiful to me until it’s monstrous. I wanted a living standing stone, I wanted to mark myself as part of this journey for life.

So back to the word: ἄφες.

That one word encapsulates over 30 nuances of meaning in two syllables: “to send forth, yield up, to expire, to let go, let alone, let be. To let go, give up a debt, forgive, to remit, to give up, keep no longer. To permit, allow, not to hinder, to give up a thing to a person.”

Jesus uses this same word for “let the little children come to me” and “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Ἄφετε τὰ παιδία
Permit the children
– – – –
καὶ ἄφες ἡμῖν τὰ
and forgive us our debts
– – – –
Πάτερ ἄφες αὐτοῖς οὐ
Father, forgive them

You know that scene in the Passion of the Christ where they’re nailing his hands, and like, /while/ they’re doing it, he’s saying that? (Not before, not after, but during?) And the soundtrack crescendos in the background?

It sounds like a release… like some sort of freedom within pain… and it seemed very different from repression.

When I first saw the movie in fall 2012 after moving out, I was like, “I am going to find out what that word is in Greek,” and I did. And I learned ἄφες means “to let go, to release.”

Much different than how churches taught me “forgiveness,” which is more like burying the hurt, or feeling guilty about being angry about it.

It’s letting go when /you’re/ ready to, and it frees you, it lets YOU be your own person. Like, we were always told forgiveness was the answer?

But we also always had to forgive instantly and never harbor resentment ever because 1.) Jesus clearly suffered worse than you ever could! Why can’t you forgive? (because you’ve never been tortured or crucified) and 2.) the faster you forgave, the more Christian you were.

But this, this thing I saw in the film, is way, way different. There’s no obligation or guilt involved.

So I marked it on my wrist, this word that spoke life to me.

Thanks to my friend Sam, who gave me a gift certificate to Pens and Needles.

– – – – – – – – –

P.S. This dude who blogs also has two awesome tattoo stories:

A Roadtrip. A Tattoo. A Damn Good Story.

Keep Walking

Missing the mark: Exploring the meaning of ‘sin’ beyond fundamentalism

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on November 9, 2014.

I cry, Father, Father, forgive me
You say, Child, I already have.
– Joy Williams, Beautiful Redemption

I pulled back on the bowstring, my arm trembling to hold it taut.

My friend Ashley gave me pointers from the other side of the archery pit.

“Pull your finger back before you release so the arrow doesn’t catch.”

“Aim a bit to the other side and higher.”

Steel slipped between my two hands, out and away through the crisp November dusk. The arrow struck the hay bale near orange spray paint.

“Hey! That one wasn’t bad!” I said, extracting the arrow from the netting.

Using a bow and arrow involves rewiring neural connections to tune hand-eye coordination. Which takes repetition. I still miss, mostly.

Living requires the same dedication. I mess up every day, missing a deadline, saying the wrong thing.

But, as my friend Elraen often says, you are not what you do.

Modern church has many sermons and worship choruses about sin and sinners. We’re told from an early age that “we have all sinned, and come short of the glory of God,” as part of the Romans Road.

But cultural connotations are lost in language translation, because Koine Greek and Hebrew have evolved into modern forms.

In my two semesters of Koine Greek this year, I discovered the original meaning of “sin.” The word is ἁμαρτία, pronounced “hamartia” and means “to miss the mark,” specifically in archery. Basically, a mistake. Sinner is ἁμαρτωλός: a poor marksman or mistake-maker.

But our American culture has no physical reference for the word. So we’ve made it a state of being. Pretty much since the word came into the English language.

In the opening paragraphs of A Christmas Carol, Dickens uses it to describe Ebenezer Scrooge:

“Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!”

And Shakespeare does it, although Elizabethan England lacks the rigid sanctimoniousness of Victorian society:

“Those healths will make thee and thy state
look ill, Timon. Here’s that which is too weak to
be a sinner, honest water, which ne’er left man i’ the mire”
(Apemantus, in Timon of Athens – Act 1, Scene 2)

“Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a
double-dealer: there’s another.”
(Duke Orsino, Twelfth Night – Act 5, Scene 1)

English usage often links sinner with a “be” verb, making “sinner” a label, a title. Like an occupation. The word becomes an identifier, it sticks to us.

Guess who else liked to use “sinner” to label people? The Pharisees.

The Gospels contain 30 total references to “sinner.”

Five of them are used by the gospel writers (Matthew 9:10, Mark 2:15, Mark 2:16, Luke 7:37, Luke 15:1).

Eight times, the Pharisees point out specific people they do not approve of (twice calling Jesus a sinner). (Matthew 9:11, Mark 2:16, Luke 5:30, Luke 7:39, Luke 15:2, Luke 19:7, John 9:16, John 9:24)

Jesus uses the word 14 times, five in direct response to the Pharisee’s accusations (Matthew 9:13, Matthew 11:19, Mark 2:17, Luke 5:32, Luke 7:34), seven in talking to the disciples, often opposing some Pharisaical idea (Luke 6:32, Luke 6:33, twice in Luke 6:34, Luke 13:2, Luke 15:7, Luke 15:10), and twice when being betrayed, ironically, to the Pharisees (“into the hands of sinners,” Matthew 26:45, Mark 14:41).

Then one mention by the repentant tax collector (Luke 18:13) and twice from a healed blind man (John 9:25, John 9:31).

I get the sense that Jesus didn’t like to label people, because his conversations with the Pharisees usually go something like this:

Pharisees: “WHY ARE YOU HANGING OUT WITH /SINNERS/?”
Jesus: “Um…because I came for sinners?”

And the Pharisees don’t recognize that sometimes, they are also mark-missers.

The Gospels mention “sin” 126 times total (Matthew: 32, Mark: 21, Luke: 45, John: 28). Just the action. And those verses have new connotations for me, too.

“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother.” (Matthew 18:15, ESV). Oh. So, if my friend misses the mark in our friendship, if I am hurt, I should tell him directly.

Humans hurt and disappoint each other every day. Sometimes missing the mark can be overcome with practice, behavior patterns can be altered.

Other times a mistake is serious or even fatal. My aim in the archery pit isn’t the sum of my identity, but a misfired arrow can wound.

Maybe that’s what Jesus’ redemption is about – he makes it so our mistakes no longer define us, so we stop attaching the name “sinner” to ourselves. The labels peel off like a used “hello my name is” sticker, and I am free.

But he saw through my labels all along.