Religion = Social Club?

I had a conversation with one of my girlfriends not too long ago. She is a highly intelligent woman, she has studied and dissected most religions out there. I can go to her and ask her questions about most anything, religion included, and she'll recite answers like a textbook. I'll then ask her what she believes. She always responds objectively, with logic, but also with her heart. She never attempts to persuade, nor does she slam me if my beliefs differ from hers. It's an exchanging of thoughts, not judgments. I value friendships like that.

My friend, she is Mormon. She was raised Mormon, but like I said, she has explored most other religions and returned to Mormonism. I asked her if she believed all that they believe. She replied that she did not. I thought about that for a moment. Then I asked her why it was that she has embraced them as a lifestyle.

Her response was that Mormons take care of their own. She has a 6 year old granddaughter that she is raising as a single "grand"mom. She felt they offered social opportunities for her granddaughter that no other religions/churches offered. It is not unusual for me to visit her and she is entertaining some of the youth who are out on their missions, or her bishop is visiting or one of her church friends stopped by for a brief moment of conversation.

One of the rules is that a male church member cannot be alone inside the home with a non-relative female member. Just an interesting side note.

It was just an interesting realization for me to have. I'm not searching for that kind of interaction, in fact, I would likely find it overwhelming. But, I guess some folks use the church as a social gateway?

Conversation With God Today.

Me: Lord, this trusting stuff, why do you keep reminding me of it? Pushing me?

God: I am your Father. It's what I do.

Me: Well, it's tiring to be reminded of it -- all the time.

God: I agree.

Me: You always have to have the last word, don't you?

God: I invented it. I am the alpha and omega.

Me: I'm done with this conversation. You, You think you're funny.

God: How funny. I invented funny, too.

Me: ...

Me: ... (sigh)

Trust, Trust, Trust.

We're still working on that trust thing over here. It's been a recurrent theme in my life and in my blog.

My youngest cat, Snug, is a timid little boy, with a gentle heart and melt in your arms sweetness. He goes through life and thinks everything will be okay. When it's not, he's startled into retreat. He has been that way since the day I picked him out at the rescue place. If Snug feels threatened, he runs and hides.

My older cat, Tug, on the other hand, is confident, loving and strong -- he watches the neighborhood for excitement, strong all by himself. Almost to the point of being confrontational about it. If Tug feels threatened, he stands his ground and fights -- all by himself.

I've always identified more with Snug inside my heart.

Both cats are indoor cats. Last night, in a strange sequence of events, Tug got outside. It scared me and shook me to my core. I love that cat. A lot. He got in a fight with one of the neighborhood cats, it was viscious, snarling and LOUD. When I went to get him, he hissed, snarled and turned on me, striking out at me in fear and self-defense.

Snug could have gone outside, but he chose not to. He stayed inside the garage, trying to get my attention to the problem. He was scared and frightened, eyes bigger than the wheels of my car. When he "solved" the problem to the best of his ability, he retreated and hid. He didn't trust me either.

Neither one of my cats trusted me in their moment of crises, but they reacted very differently.

I thought to myself, what a perfect example of how we fail to trust God with our lives. Some of us retreat, others of us snarl and strike. Both reactions are from fear -- which means we aren't trusting.

Something to think about. I know I am.

Love vs. Legalistic

I am a rule follower. Surprising, I know.

From the earliest age I can remember, the first thing I wanted to know was, "What are the rules?" I would anticipate the first day of school each year so that I could learn the rules. I lived for rules. I didn't want to upset anyone or, dread of dreads, hurt someone's feelings. I didn't want to disappoint my teacher. Or my mom.

I was 6 years old when I accepted Christ as my saviour. Again with the rules. I wanted to know what was expected of me as a Christian. My mom was my guide at that age, providing answers to my questions about what my new Father expected of me.

Since then, it's been a journey of following the rules. The journey that I embarked on last November, that I mentioned in this blog, was one where I stretched and defined for myself what the rules of this journey are. I still don't have them fully formulated, but I'm working and thinking on that. Because, see, for most of my life, I've lived with the thought that good Christians are supposed to be passive, they aren't supposed to get angry or afraid or hurt or argue with their spouse. Because, you know, in Proverbs it talks about a soft answer turning away wrath. Numerous times throughout the Bible the Lord says "Be not afraid."

So every time I would feel one of those emotions, I would step on it and squash it. Like a nasty bug that had somehow crawled into my mind. I was timid, never stood up for myself. I would find a way to avoid confrontation, defuse it, without ever stating how I felt, what I believed. The problem I ran into with that is, people would assume that, since I didn't voice a difference of opinion, then I must believe and feel the same as them. They would move forward, erroneously, on that assumption.

I found myself to be extremely legalistic toward myself, holding myself to a high standard of suppression. Yet, oddly, I never judged or compared myself to anyone else. Others could run amok, but not me. It didn't bother me. In my mind, my standards were mine. Many of my friends tell me that I am the least judgmental person they know. I am, towards them -- but not myself.

So I let people run all over me, take me for granted, take advantage of me, I had no boundaries or rules for how others interacted with me. If someone hurt me, I told no one but my diary. If someone told me my feelings were wrong, I pushed those wrong feelings further under the doormat. I, however, was very careful not to lean on or ask anyone for help, I didn't want to take advantage of them. It became overwhelming trying to be perfect.

My quest to define has been a fruitful one.

I have learned that there are ways to stand up for yourself that fit within God's law. God never intended for me to be stepped on. The Bible is very balanced in that respect. According to the Bible, the woman is to respect her husband -- the balance, however, is that the husband is supposed to love his wife above anything else (except God, of course). Check and balance. If the husband loves his wife like nothing else, he won't ever abuse her, mentally or physically.

I've learned that it's also okay to ask others for help, to share the burden. I've also learned that it's okay to be afraid, to feel anger, to feel hurt. Those are normal emotions -- Jesus even felt those things while here on earth. Sometimes there are things that happen that are too huge for one person to handle by themselves. Emotional burdens, physical trials, spiritual questions. I can't be responsible for how other people might feel by my requests, they are responsible for saying "yes" or "no". If I need them, I should ask. God never intended for us to go it alone.

Somehow, I got too caught up in staring at the judging God, the God of punishment, the God of commandments, and forgot about the balance -- remember, God is balanced. I forgot about the God who loves me, no matter what. The God who forgives me of my failings when I come to him and crawl in his lap. The God who wants what is good for me, not harm. The God who is there just as much for the other people in my life as he is in my own.

Remember that God?