Old Mirrors

I found myself standing there again this morning. That now more familiar territory of actually knowing and liking myself, and standing in the quiet confidence of it.

It's a little weird to be just arriving here by now. I'm 54, a Gramma, having raised 2 children before that, lived an already full life. I've weathered ministry storms of catastrophic proportions. I'm at a season of life where you might think one would have figured out the whole self-identity thing long ago. But my journey hasn't been a normal one, particularly not in the venue of "career". It's taken a longer, roundabout route for me to be known as and know myself as Pastor. And so, I find that I get to experience this sense of self-discovery in 'younger' ways, like I was still a 20-something maybe. I don't mind. I think it's keeping me from being too settled just yet.

This morning it happened as I listened to two people in conversation, who knew I was there and visually included me, but were really having their own dialogue, and I didn't interrupt. They were talking about the essence of what I do and who I am, the art of preaching particularly. Not totally in a specific to Ruth Anne kind of way, but talking about me just the same, smiling.

One of them was from my past and one, Lord willing, will very likely be a significant part of my future. One has known me and shaped me and has offered perceptions of me to me for a long time, having allowed me to partner with and learn from, but coming from a history of intimately knowing my insecure, unactualized self. The other, only recently being part of the kind of work we do together, has only ever seen me at this later stage of life, and perceives me quite differently. And as I stood there on the fringe of their talking, it was like being able to see both me's.

Fascinating.

I wonder if for too long I've let people hold up old mirrors, and believed that the reflection there was still valid. At the cottage there are some old mirrors, all veined and distorted, kind of cool, I guess, but not good for getting a clear picture of your face. If I accepted what came to me from that mirror, I would not feel very good about myself. Actually, I'd hardly really be able to see myself as I am today, I think. Looking into that mirror, for instance, I lack wisdom and discernment, don't know what I'm doing, am a pushover for being manipulated into all manner of ways of doing what others should do, and apparently need to be corrected lots...like lots. The old mirrors want to suggest that I'm too sensitive, too inexperienced, and don't have what it takes to lead...and that this picture is 'me'. They might call on how long they've known me to justify what they are reflecting back to me is me, now.

And a lot that list of what they've seen in years past has been true. Growing up is hard to do. It's a rough job making us holy along the way. And I will always and ever be grateful for those who have put up with my immaturity and insecurity and let me stumble along with them towards this becoming of me.

But these days, others are holding up newer mirrors. Who I am now is being reflected back to me by people who are engaging with me now, and the picture is very different, it seems. Not without imperfections. Heaven forbid I don't have people around me that can still speak into that. But recently, just in the past three weeks especially, I've been described in very affirming ways by a variety of people in very different settings. Really? I'm just shaking my head and peering closer into these new mirrors.

Hey! I think I like me!

Like I said. This should be basic. Should be something I figured out a long time ago. But, oh well, I'm just getting to it now.

And reason this matters isn't just about how I'm liking feeling this way, although it's kind of fun. It's about how knowing who I am and being confident in the new reflections helps me, in turn, speak positively into the lives of others. Knowing me and being okay with me means I don't have to get tangled up in trying to please past mentors. Knowing me and liking me means I can be free to preach with more authenticity, more transparency. Knowing me and celebrating me means I can relax in the presence of others and more fully engage with their spirits, without agenda or judgment. Knowing me and embracing me means I have more energy to hold up new mirrors to others, and hopefully reflect back the wonderful beauty their soul's potential.

And so, back to the conversation.....I left it joyful.

We haven't thrown out the old mirrors at the cottage. They're vintage. They remind us of where we've come from and the treasured faces of family before us who peered at themselves when the mirrors were new. There's heritage in those old mirrors, and I love them....a lot.

But I am me now.

And I'm liking this.

Christmas Spirit Whisperings

Quiet preparations, unhurried, begin
And gradually Spirit whispers into me
"O come and adore again."

So I do
The now frosted sunrise
Vanilla of candles
Small, warm lights on green
Hand made messages of Joy to mail
Gifts, careful-bought and tucked away hiding

Words crafted to Let It Be Christmas
Praying, hoping that they bring something new, inspiring, lifting
Prayers on knees in the quiet of early, early Sunday morning
Before anyone else arrives








O Generous Father
Courageous Son
Pervasive Spirit
Come again to us

Make us ready

A Not So Feminist Rant

There's healing happening for me in what's on at Highview this Sunday.

Dr. Bill Webb, author, conference speaker, professor and leading theologian in understanding redemptive Christianity, will be speaking about those troubling texts in our Bible regarding women and what they are and are not supposed to be doing in Christ's church. This is part of a broader series of three weeks, covering other weird and wacky parts of Scripture (slavery texts and war texts), and was first imagined and planned for way back last March.

I knew in advance this would be a good thing for Highview. First, to have Bill share his expertise and insights on these matters is no small deal, given his status in the academic community, and the scope of his influence in shaping contemporary Christian thought. We are truly humbled and honoured to have him teach us these three weeks.

And, of course there's the matter of helping us know better how to read our Bibles, and not to be afraid of the parts that seem troubling to us. Bill is truly adept at taking complex textual analysis and making it understandable to regular people who sincerely want to live for Jesus.

But I'm surprised at how I am personally responding on an emotional level as I anticipate the particular session this week. As much as I would like to believe I am relaxed and confident in my femaleness as a spiritual leader, I go deeper and find something trembling there....with anticipation.

Yes! This Sunday something very personal will be affirmed! It's okay to be me. It's okay to be a woman AND to lead a spiritual community!

The story of my journey to the position of pastor is one where the facts and events are fairly well known; at least within the scope of the church, and the friends who've walked this way with me. There was a church-merger, where an egalitarian position on the role of women in leadership was adopted. Then, a year on the sidelines, while the new church found its leadership stride, but without "forcing" a female Elder on anyone. Then a gradual stepping into increments of greater responsibility as we grew beyond the sum of our parts into a new entity.

In the years that followed, there was the departure of first one, then another male colleague, and the decision on the part of the church itself to invite me to step into the void and take the lead as senior pastor. All the while, there has been and continues to be the ongoing educational piece as I seek to "retrofit" by means of grad studies. In all, I am acutely aware of the risks others have been willing to take as I have been embraced to lead by a church bold enough to stand differently in the realm of fairly traditional evangelicals.

Yet, as affirming as the broader picture my story paints, it hasn't come without personal woundings.

Overt patronizing, malicious gossip, outright rejection, insulting job offers. Requests to perhaps avoid talking about what I do "at the church" and just talk about my husband and children, when being interviewed for a certain mission's video. Requests to not mention at all that I am a pastor when being introduced at certain functions. The accusation that a significant church crisis was God's judgment on the church for having a female pastor. When seeking to process these wounds with other male colleagues, being told that I was making it all up. And the worst of it, to be accused of dishonouring the Father and His Word, when in truth I would die for love of Him. I need to be honest, even as the sharpness of each lessens, these wounds kind of wear on me after a while. If I'm not careful, they tend to pile up in my soul.

I've never mounted the soap box. And to the best of my knowledge, I've never pressed my own agenda. I only wanted to let God make me into all He had in mind when He created me. All of it. Fully surrendered. Here I am God, let's go as far as You say. I'm Yours. Isn't that what fully devoted followers of Christ are supposed to do?

At the beginning of that journey of surrender, I would not have considered it could take me into the realm of serving Him as a pastor. But it did. So here I am.

And that's why this Sunday seems like a marking moment somehow. One of the Church's brightest and best theologians will be at the church I now pastor to show why the Bible redemptively supports who I am and what I do. And I rejoice on behalf of my sister theologians, pastors and leaders as well, both those serving right now and those in the wings waiting.

And it seems so right and fresh and good and energetic and....healing.

And I am grateful. I am grateful for the woundings and sacrifices of Bill Webb and others who have taken more heat than I ever will, and do so courageously and with great grace. For what they've lost to stay true to what they are convinced of, I am profoundly sad, but deeply grateful.

And to a patient God who somehow makes His plans and purposes prevail in spite of what should not be, I am eternally and truly devoted.

Embracing the Disruption

It's weird to be home on a Wednesday.

Wasn't expecting this, really. When I was booked for a day surgery procedure, on a Tuesday, to blast away a nuisance kidney stone that had found a cozy little spot in one of my "tubes", I called the doctor's office to see what the recovery time might be. Return to work on Wednesday? No problem. Just don't do any heavy lifting.

However. At the hospital I was reminded that there's this little thing about not driving or being by yourself for 24 hours after anesthesia. Oh. And then, my body is telling me it needs to recover from all that "action" inside. Okay then!

So, here I am, at home, with my faithful hero Ken, both of us having had to rearrange our Wednesdays at the last minute.

And I find I'm quite okay with that.

That may seem obvious to most. But for us Type A, highly structured, I-have-my-week-all-laid-out-so-don't-mess-with-it individuals, this kind of disruption can wreck havoc on the soul. Normally this kind of hiccup in my week would send me on a rant, complaining how every time I try to lay out a schedule of balance and sanity, something comes up to seriously disrupt the plan. The nerve!

But maybe, just maybe, I'm growing in spirit. Because today, and throughout this entire episode with one nasty little beastie of a kidney stone, I find I am able to embrace the disruption. In fact, I am very, very grateful that I have not experienced the kind of pain that is often described for kidney stones, or for the procedure I've just had. I'm so glad for flexible and understanding colleagues who are willing to change their own well-laid out week, to accommodate me, and who express care and concern over any kind of annoyance this certainly brings them. I am over the top loving it that my husband Ken has willingly and without complaint stayed home to be with me - and OFFERED a quick Tim's run this morning! And how this disruption has actually provided us with a rare space of hours in a row to be quiet together in our family room with a fire on.

I am encouraged and affirmed by the prayers of family and friends. My Mom prayed over me on Sunday when we visited - such a blessing to be prayed over by a parent. And there are used-to-be orphans praying for me from half way around the world, which I still find astonishing. And, of course, the wonder of all the others in between who've emailed or texted or called just simply to say that they cared.

Isn't all of that a gift? Why wouldn't I embrace the gifts of this disruption?

I'm glad I'm growing, but a little sad too, for all the gifts I've missed before. I regret my previous tirades, endured by those around me. Sure, I want to be remembered as a diligent and faithful worker. But hopefully, from now on, I'll be able to make some new memories of a more gentler, less self-centered person.

Someone who can embrace disruptions with grace.