I saw The Swell Season in concert this weekend, and the lyrics from one of their songs have been playing through my head ever since:
“You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It’s time that you won
Take this sinking boat and point it home
We’ve still got time
Raise your hopeful voice, you had a choice
You’ve made it now”
It’s a beautiful song, but in particular it is the line about raising your hopeful voice that I keep coming back to. I think this is because it feels like that is exactly what I have been trying to do lately. So much of the pain has unexpectedly lifted this past week, and I feel as though I am finally remembering how to breathe. Even more, I am remembering to look for the beauty. Take, for example, this morning when I was walking to my 8 a.m class, steaming latte in hand, and I found myself pausing even though I was already late, just to notice the way the morning dew was clinging to an upside down, pale white rose. And I hesitated, standing there, and thought to myself, just for a moment…maybe I can do this after all.
Now before you start to show signs of nausea, and begin to think I am going all soft on you, I would like to add that this change in the tide is scaring the shit out of me. If I were approaching this from a psychological view, I would say something along the lines of how these past few months have taught me a sort of learned helplessness, or at least a learned hopelessness. Which is why is scares me now to find the pain lifting, just when I was getting myself all geared up for a fight. I am scared to hope that there might be beauty in this, and not just pain. I have been surviving for several months now on the coat tails of low expectations. It’s safer that way. When your expectations tend to hover right around the level of hoping to make it through the day without crying, and maybe even managing to do a load of laundry once every couple of weeks, it is not easy to get disappointed. When you keep everyone at a safe distance and automatically assume they will reject you given the chance, your only option is to either be right, or to be pleasantly surprised.
But I have never been one for living in the numb, middle ground. I am reminded again of the lessons I learned over the past year, working in a place where gang fights and suicide attempts were daily occurrences, and a good day meant that nobody had threatened to kill you. I called it the theory of beautifully fleeting… meaning that the beautiful moments are all the more beautiful, essentially because they are so fleeting. It seems you have two options in the presence of such pain: to learn numbness, or to learn to take the risks that come with experiencing the full spectrum of human emotion; to take what lessons you can from the pain, knowing that it will be what makes the beautiful moments all the more beautiful, few and far between though they may be.
And so today, I am fighting the urge to shut off and withdraw, now that things are finally looking up, and choosing instead to raise my hopeful voice. I am still figuring out exactly what that will look like, but I think it is going to have something to do with staying here, being present both for the pain and for the beauty…having the more difficult conversations with all the strength and grace that I can muster. Right now, this voice of mine is starting out not much above a whisper… but I think that gradually, it will get stronger.
20 comments
Comments feed for this article
November 15, 2007 at UTC2411UTC p20074730UTC15:
V
I am sorry that you always seem to sound so sad. I am unclear when you say “maybe you can do this after all.” Do you mean stay? Or continue to explore who you are and become more of a voice? (I’m not being critical, I just don’t think I know what that means)
Interestingly, my Bible study tonight was on the false premise that God wants us to be happy. He does want to bless us and have a full life. But it is not true that we can be happy campers all the time with everything going our way. Unfortunately, especially in our country Christians have bought into that lie. Everybody can fill in the blank, “If I could only change ________ everything would be wonderful. (God wants to make us holy.)
The false premise is build on the idea that God wants me to be happy
+ My situation, job, relationship, school, etc are so painful/stressfu. that. . .
+conclusion This can’t be God’s will for my life (situation-relationship, etc)
The Truth is that running from adversity and conflict in relationships does not solve problems but compounds them. Patience and perserverence are the keys to relational transformations.
James 5:7-12 was our passage.
I especially liked references to the farmer and how he waits out the seasons for the spring rains, and spring is coming! Many people will say, “I can’t take it another day, week, 3 weeks” but Yes they can with perserverence and patience. . .spring is coming. Spring always comes.
Then he talked about the prophets. There’s a lot of talk about persecution out there. But when we look at the prophets, i.e. Daniel, they were in the center of God’s will. Nobody will argue with that, and they went through all kinds of pain and suffering, and yet in the midst of it they still were salt and light.
We Christians need to remember to be salt and light when we are persecuted. We all are in one way or another, whatever our thinking, lifestyle. If we are in the center of God’s will, doing His work, and are persecuted, we still need to be salt and light, and keep on keeping on.
Well, I liked my Bible Study, and thought of the sadness in some of the blogs, and wanted to say be patient, persevere, and stay in the center of Gods’ will and be salt and light.
November 15, 2007 at UTC1011UTC p20073130UTC15:
Casey
V – your point about the Christian life not being easy or always happy is a good one… Henri Nouwen’s book, “Can You Drink the Cup” is an excellent read on exactly that topic, if you’re interested – I know it has remained with me very strongly since I read it. Interestingly, I’ve found much of the content of this blog to be a meditation on exactly that, and on the grace that many of us have been blessed to see in the course of suffering. I have learned more about being salt and light from the honesty of gay Christians in places were to be such is considered impossible than I have from almost anything else thus far in my faith walk. That people like B, D, and A can hold on to their faith – in fact, see it grow – even in the painful and often sad settings they find themselves in, is inspiring, and never fails to draw my eye to God. One thing, though – I’m surprised to hear you claim that D’s tone in this piece is sad… perhaps it’s a matter of perspective, but I read it as hopeful, determined, and strong. Not bubbly-happy, certainly… but wise. Maybe just the kind of wisdom that, because it is birthed in pain, always has a tinge of sadness around the edges.
November 15, 2007 at UTC1711UTC p20074730UTC15:
Casey
V – your point about the Christian life not being easy or always happy is a good one… Henri Nouwen’s book, “Can You Drink the Cup” is an excellent read on exactly that topic, if you’re interested – I know it has remained with me very strongly since I read it. Interestingly, I’ve found much of the content of this blog to be a meditation on exactly that, and on the grace that many of us have been blessed to see in the course of coming to terms with being, in a way, concretely in but not of the world around us. That people like B, D, and A can hold on to their faith – in fact, see it grow, and craft together a new community through telling their tales – in the difficult settings they find themselves in, is inspiring. I see some of the glory of God in it.
One thing, though – I’m surprised to hear you say that D’s tone in this piece is sad… perhaps it’s a matter of perspective, but I read it as hopeful, determined, and strong. Not bubbly-happy, certainly… but wise. Maybe just the kind of wisdom that, because it is birthed in pain, always has a tinge of sadness around the edges. Such is the nature of the beast, perhaps. Good to see you back, V. Take care.
November 15, 2007 at UTC1811UTC p20075430UTC15:
Casey
huh… no idea how a draft of my comment showed up before I submitted the final version. *shrug* Sorry ’bout that.
November 15, 2007 at UTC2711UTC p20071030UTC15:
V
You took out your thoughts on being salt and light from your draft, and I would like to hear them, clarified, perhaps. Christians are to be salt and light no matter what our circumstances. In fact, I have found that the greater my troubles, the greater the opportunity, AND the more non-Christians are looking at us to see just what we’re made of with respect to our faith.
November 15, 2007 at UTC3411UTC p20075330UTC15:
Casey
Then maybe that’s why they, in a very rough form, wound up out there. *grins* In an effort to clarify… I’ve often wondered wondered why I was born the way I am. What purpose does it have, this thing which is definitely inconvenient and sometimes dangerous, that seems to mark me out as not normal… and I have found some resonance in the story of a blind man. “Who sinned (they asked) that this man should be born blind?” To which Jesus replies that nobody sinned, but that the man was as he was so that the glory of God may be seen through him. I take comfort in this, in a message that tells me that my difference is a means by which the love of God can be made manifest. Not through the “healing” of my orientation – I am gay and always will be – but through the healing of my relationship with those who hate me for it… and that healing, in a world of bitterness, is a flavorful thing indeed.
I believe that being salt and light in the world means being a force for the reconciliation of the world to God which was and is Christ’s mission. Every act of persecution is an opportunity to show that different flavor that characterizes saltiness – where human wisdom says I should guard my heart by leaving, defend myself by returning pain for pain… Christ tells me I should forgive, that I should be a peace-maker, that I should love no matter how much it hurts… love even if they never love me. This is not the way of the world, and it stands out like light in the darkness, like salt in bland flavors.
You should see the looks I get when I claim my identity as an evangelical Christian and a lesbian – I immediately am asked about my faith, who God is to me, why it is worth it to believe when so many in the pews next to me would deny my equality, deny even that I would ever enter the Kingdom of Heaven… and absolutely, you should see the looks in response to my telling them of a loving, real God who has suffered and loved all yet, a God who has gathered to Him a very flawed flock of human beings who are not perfect – how could they be, and be so cruel – but who try to follow after Him anyway. You should see the hope that springs when people think that maybe there is welcome for them despite what they’ve been told… the light that shines in the prodigals’ eyes when somebody tells them that yes, they can go home, that the Father is waiting with open arms. It is a wonderful thing… and if I hid myself in a closet, under a lampshade, I never would have seen it. We are called to be visible for a reason.
The church today is in a bad place – many nonChristian people do not understand that the flaws of God’s people are not the flaws of God, but evidence of His grace. Many do not understand that we follow a suffering God, and that for His gospel we are called to suffer similarly… that persecution is part of the bargain, and indeed, is where we see God’s love and power all the more. Indeed, many straight Christians neglect this as well, living as we do in a society where identifying as Christian is a comfortable, indeed dominant thing. Gay Christians, who can testify to God’s perfection in an imperfect world, serve an important purpose to correct that misconception, precisely because being who we are is uncomfortable.
We are as we are so that others may see God as He is… and yes, V, people are looking. It is a heavy burden, a difficult task – but it is one of the crosses we have been given to bear, and as part of the body of Christ, we come together to help bear it together, reminding each other of He who is truly the Light that we follow… the man whose life – hard but triumphant – is our faith. Sorry that went long – I suspect you now understand why I edited it… I couldn’t find a brief way to say what I wanted to say, and even this feels incomplete. *grins* Take care, V. Thanks for asking.
November 17, 2007 at UTC0511UTC p20072730UTC17:
V
I have to disagree that we are called to suffer. We are called to be holy, sanctified, become more and more like Christ. We are told, or warned, that we will be persecuted for our faith.
November 17, 2007 at UTC4911UTC p20070030UTC17:
Casey
“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it.” While we are also promised life abundant, I have yet to come up with a way of reading a gospel which says to take up a cross and deny yourself that doesn’t imply the inevitability of some unpleasantness… and even conceding that some Christians may get by without suffering, I was speaking in the context of being a gay Christian in America, which thus far is not pleasant. Since we were discussing the fallacy that God wants us always to be happy, it seemed appropriate in context. It is interesting to me to try to imagine a way to become more and more like Christ which does not include emulating His self-sacrificing love. I’m not sure I could recognize a Jesus without it.
November 18, 2007 at UTC0911UTC p20073030UTC18:
V
Could you expand your last two sentenences? I am not tracking you there very well.
November 18, 2007 at UTC1611UTC p20070830UTC18:
B
I’ll take a shot at it, but I don’t want to speak for Casey. I do think, however, that Casey and I follow a similar line of logic, so hopefully my contribution to this discussion can help a little…
I think thy key issue that we are dealing with here is cruciformity, a word which literally means the shape of the cross, and is used to describe what we may be called to as followers of Christ and what Christ was called to.
Abundant life happens, absolutely. Christ’s death on the cross was not the end. He rose. Redemption occurs. But I think that inherent in Christianity is cruciformity. Redemption may occur on this earth or it may not, but as followers of Christ, I think we are in some way called to what Christ was called to… obedience, and an obedience that will most certainly lead to some sort of death/pain.
November 19, 2007 at UTC0011UTC p20073830UTC19:
Casey
You basically hit it on the head, B – and any insight you provide can’t help but contribute to a discussion. Basically, I interpreted V to be saying that it was possible to “become more and more like Christ” without suffering in some way… to which I replied by trying out a thought experiment, trying to imagine becoming like a Christ who had not suffered the Cross… at which point things broke down, because without the cross, Jesus isn’t Christ at all. So in that aspect, in order to become like Jesus, obedience unto suffering is part of the bargain – cruciformity, as you put it (and thanks for teaching me that word – learn something new every day).
That isn’t entirely what I meant, though. As Christians, we are also called to compassion, a word which literally means to “suffer with” others. Time and again scripture declares our God to be compassionate – psalm 116:5, psalm 145:9, 2 Corinthians 1:3, Exodus 22:26-27, and so on. If becoming more and more like our Father means anything, it means emulating this trait. Love isn’t just serving, or seeing justice done – it is empathy, understanding, walking in another’s shoes… sometimes it just means being there, hard as it is.
November 19, 2007 at UTC0211UTC p20070730UTC19:
Brian
Someone at the young adults group at my church said one is called “to love so deeply that their injustice becomes your own.”
November 19, 2007 at UTC1911UTC p20074230UTC19:
Casey
Bingo – short and sweet, Brian!
November 19, 2007 at UTC3811UTC p20072930UTC19:
A
Wow! Awesome way to put that! At times I wonder if I’m as concerned about injustices towards others as I ask people to be about injustices towards lesbians and gays.
November 19, 2007 at UTC2311UTC p20072030UTC19:
murphywong
A, I was just thinking about that on the train today and it’s definitely something I want to explore further. As a queer person, it is easy for me to stand up against injustices directed towards other gay or transgender people because I understand where that comes from, what it feels like, and how things need to change. As a white male, I’ve never been on the receiving end of gender- or racially-based prejudice or systems of oppression so sometimes I feel like I don’t know where I should even begin. I’m hoping to change that.
November 20, 2007 at UTC5211UTC p20071330UTC20:
Casey
A – I’ve wondered about that as well. Especially after a few years of focusing on advocacy for the GLBT community, developing a strong knowledge basis there, realizing that my life experiences have made me particularly… suited… to reaching out to the people most likely to persecute gay people… well, I do wonder if my focus hasn’t narrowed too far. I’m hoping to counter that a little this summer – I’ve felt strongly called to apply to work with the International Justice Mission, a Christian org that combats human trafficking. Yes, there is a gay angle to that which really sets the fire in me, but it is a broader view – women as a whole, child laborers as a whole – that I want to challenge myself with – I want to care as much for them as I do for the throwaway gay youth who finds himself turning tricks in LA for a place to sleep at night. God’s heart is bigger than just my little community – and while I do feel that my vocation is in serving them, right now, I think the best way to do that is to gain a larger heart for the rest of the world. Don’t know why I told you guys all that – it’s just something that’s been working its way up in me, and I guess I think you’ll understand.
November 20, 2007 at UTC5511UTC p20073030UTC20:
J
How did a discussion of personal sanctification and suffering because of one’s FAITH, become another one about how everybody is treated unjustly because they’re gay?
November 20, 2007 at UTC3011UTC p20073530UTC20:
Casey
J… respectfully, can I ask you to maybe run your eyes over the last few comments again? I feel like something got lost in translation, because when I read those statements (and made one of them *grins*) I don’t get “woe is we, the GLBT” – I get a sense of people who explicitly want to feel compassion for the world beyond the borders of our little community, and an awareness that we definitely are not the only ones who have a hard time of it. So yeah… go gentle with us, k? Remember where you are, and who you’re talking to – if the topics sometime seem repetitive, it’s because this is one of precious few spaces where we can talk about these things. Good luck with your child, btw – are they a teen? Have faith, even adolescent ‘tudes shall pass. G’night to ye.
November 20, 2007 at UTC1211UTC p20073030UTC20:
msdimmesdale
Addressing a theme in A’s, Casey’s, and Murphywong’s comments:
A couple summers ago, i picked up a bell hooks book in order to get ahead of what i thought was the assigned reading in one of my more arduous courses. At the time, and especially coming out of my largely Republican, upper-middle class, WASP background, i didn’t quite get what Black Americans were talking about. I was taken aback in the first chapter when she spoke of wanting to kill a white man (not surprisingly, the book is called killing rage: Ending Racism). I couldn’t understand why she was so angry. Then, a few chapters in, i realized that she felt about white supremacy exactly how i feel about sexism and patriarchy. I began to listen. I can’t say that i know what it’s like to be a nonwhite in this society. That would be a lie. But i do know what it is to be oppressed. And no one should have to endure that. It is the same burning just a different fire. There are specific pains and tribulations that no other group/person can understand. But i think we can share what it is to be treated unjustly, what it is to be silenced…what it is to be oppressed by people and system.
November 20, 2007 at UTC5311UTC p20074630UTC20:
Brian
murphywong was me… I was logged into a wordpress account somehow…