I come from a two-dog-household family
June 1973. Lakeside, New Orleans, La.
My dad is, and always has been, a sort of Dog Whisperer. He has a penchant for strays (guess that’s where I get it) and both of these dogs were found and rescued by my parents. (Well, I say my parents, but really my dad. My mom said she was 7 months pregnant with Guy when my dad found Chandelle, a tiny puppy, and couldn’t believe he’d bring home a 2nd dog when they had a baby on the way.)
They found Sugar in Utah – abandoned by a neighbor – and Chandelle in New Orleans, and both dogs made the move to Houston and saw the birth of both my parents’ kids. Chandelle was epileptic and finally succumbed to a seizure when she was nine and I was about 6. I clearly remember my parents rushing to the emergency vet in the middle of the night (Grandma Jean was visiting and stayed at home with Guy and me), and they came back dogless.
Sugar, who by that time was 17 years old, as well as blind and deaf, stopped eating and died fairly soon after. We always said that she died of a broken heart.
On a Different Note
It’s been almost two years since I was in serious training for a race and a year since I ran with any real regularity. But I miss it, and I especially miss how in shape I was and how quickly I got there just by lacing up some sneakers and hitting the pavement.
And because my heart is in New Orleans anyway, I thought it would be pretty amazing to run 13.1 miles through a city I love, to see it from the ground, to see how it’s changed, to see how it’s being put back together. For the first time since before Katrina, the race will begin and end at the Superdome (the ramp to the Dome the only ‘hill” on the entire course).
The race is in five months, which is plenty of time to get myself back in shape (in theory – I love hypotheticals) and to even consider the possibility that I could run this one faster and stronger than the last time I made the crazy decision to run a half-marathon. Of course I say that now, at 15+ pounds higher than I was the last time I ran a race, but I keep forgetting that part.
I guess that’s the whole problem with losing weight – the battle is never over. You’re never finished. You never get to where you want to be and say, “Okay I’m skinny! Pass the pizza!” because if you do? (Like I did.) You’ll just be back to where you started. So I’m back, I guess. Get ready for some deja vu.
The Vine
“[Most spiritually healthy Christians] are the ones who understand that Jesus was, quite simply, one hell of a powerful teacher, and healer, and mystic, and visionary, a pacifist, a liberal, a feminist, the ultimate outsider, one of the finest examples in all of history of how to radiate pure love and compassion and divine interconnection and Lord knows we could all use more of that.”
I somehow managed to miss this almost-two-year-old editorial from sfgate.com. While I don’t agree with him entirely (for example, I think Jesus is a lot more than just a feminist and the ultimate outsider; he is also God incarnate and the way God justified us and brought us back to Him. And I hardly think “healthy teen sex” is a Christian principle, but I get his point about the hatred of flesh and desire), I do think he says something worth listening to.
I’ve gotten a lot of great e-mail over the past few days, both from those who agree with me and those who do not, and I appreciate all the responses. But I want to be clear when I say that any shift in my behavior or ideology isn’t because I had some great epiphany or because I’m some smarty-pants who is saying anything new. I have strong opinions and feel passionately about the world, politics and “religion,” yes, but none of that comes from me.
It’s because I, as Jeff Henderson said in his message yesterday, am connected to the Vine. Any fruit that I happen to bear is through no work or creation of my own; it’s because I remain in Him and therefore He resides in me. (John 15:1-9) The branch that is disconnected from the vine withers and dies. When I lived “off the Vine,” the fruit of my life evidenced that.
The Bible teaches us that His loves shapes our behavior, not the other way around. God isn’t happy with me because I want to do His work. I want to do His work because he’s already loving me.
Jeff’s message yesterday focused on the myth of “the better I am, the more God loves me.” It’s often easier to listen to the Darkness when it whispers, “Not you. How could a perfect Being love you?” than it is to believe the unbelievable Truth that He loves you enough to chase you into that Darkness and carry you back. Paul wrote that the angel of darkness is always masquerading in the light. If he was able to connive two people who walked daily with their Creator, how much easier it is for him to deceive me? Or you? It was a powerful service and it served as a reminder that as foreign a concept as it may be to me, there are people out there who have never experienced unconditional love. Whose parents were always attaching To-Do lists to their love or making their kids feel like their love was based on behavior. But God isn’t a reflection of your Earthly father, he’s the perfection of him and that is an awesome, awesome thing to realize.
Chances are, you learned the the song, “Jesus loves me,” when you were a kid, whether on PBS or in Sunday School. But to be an adult – with all the baggage and heartache that adulthood brings – and to know it remains true as ever, is powerful. Yesterday in Waumba Land, the environment for infants to four-year-olds, we learned about praise and during the story all the kids repeated “God loves me,” and though they are only 2, I pray that the seed of that truth is planted in their hearts. To grow up knowing that you are loved, unconditionally, is life saving. Where would I be without it? Look at the things I inflicted upon myself even knowing that – the relationships I forced, the behavior I dipped my toes in (or plunged into headfirst).
The world is a terrifying place full of horrors and questions and heartbreak.
I’ve gotten off-track a bit, I guess. I’m not sure what my point is.
Maybe this: I am not about Religion. I am not about singing my name to the roster of any political party. It’s not about being a “moderate Christian,” or a liberal theologian or a conservative Democrat or whatever other hybrid label they can come up with. I am about one thing: Love. It’s about the love the caves my heart in, the love that is real, life-giving and in the world right this second. That love came to save the world, already knowing the world would never change.
“And these Christians — let us call them “normal” or perhaps “natural” or even “organic” (i.e.;, devoid of poisons or preservatives or Sanctimonious Growth Hormones) — they are filling all manner of funky or progressive (or Unitarian) churches across many a large city in America, right now”
Maybe Organic is the right word. It’s a word that Jeff referenced yesterday when the topic turned to the Vine, to branches, to fruit. It’s about God the farmer, Jesus the vine, and us, blooming, growing and producing fruits of the spirit to feed His world.
Philippians 4:6-9
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.
Complicit
I feel like all I do is preach around these parts lately and I’m even exhausting myself. But on the other hand, nothing else feels as important. Who cares about my house or my nonexistent love life, or even my cute new puppy when there is so much work to do? So much shouting from the rooftops that must be done?
The other night, after I sobbed on the phone with my mother for an hour about the state of the world and the state of the church and why was I so burdened by all of this, she sent me an e-mail with just a bunch of scripture. God has already overcome the world, she said. All we can do is care for the little corner He has placed us in. (Which of course makes me question whether I’m in the correct corner, but that’s an entirely different conversation.)
So all of that is to say that I’m trying to focus on the fact that He is, always has been and always will be, in control of it all. There has always been war and genocide and poverty, and I don’t say that to imply that it’s unimportant or because I feel like we shouldn’t aim to eradicate those things, because I think we should. I say it because I can’t fight with myself or with Him because these things will always exist. They are out there and they were there before me and they will be there after me. But, and this is a big but, so will He!
Many years ago, when I lived in Columbus and attended Joshua House, a Sunday night service at the Columbus Vineyard for young adults, the pastor’s wife told a story about her wrestling relationship with God. She said that she was shaking her fist at him one night, so overcome with helplessness at the idea of starving babies and soldier children. Her anger was overwhelming. She cried out to Him, “Why do you let this happen?” and she heard back very clearly, Why do YOU?
That question has stuck with me ever since. Why do we let these things happen?
I watched Hotel Rwanda last week and it has haunted me ever since. I was in a bad mood for days afterward and there are several lines I can’t get out of my head. Joaquin Phoenix plays a cameraman there to film the signing of the UN treaty between the Hutu president and the Tutsi rebels. The war breaks out while he is there and he and his boom operator sneak off the hotel grounds (against his reporter/director’s orders) to film the fighting. When he shows the footage to his reporter, Don Cheadle’s character sees it. Later, Joaquin’s character apologizes to him that he had to see it, and Cheadle’s character replies that he is grateful it was filmed, because now the world will see it and they will send help. Joaquin looks at him with a mixture of sadness and disbelief and says, “I think people will see it and say ‘My god, that is horrible,’ and then they’ll go back to eating their dinners.”
Which is exactly what happened.
It is in my nature to be self-righteous at times, as well as judgmental, and they’re behaviors I struggle to keep reigned in, but sometimes I don’t know how else to be when the answers are so clearly black and white.
What happened in the Gulf Coast was wrong. What happened in Rwanda was wrong. What is happening right now, as I sit here, in the Sudan and South Africa, is wrong. Our government’s response to these atrocities is WRONG.
But this morning I spent $3.13 on a stupid Pumpkin Spice Latte when I could have given it to any number of the homeless I pass every day in downtown Atlanta and that was probably wrong too.
I have been giving serious thought to running for local office in 2008 – something I always knew I’d be good at but never really considered – and I can’t believe I’m even throwing this out into the universe, but there it is.
People say that I’m idealistic and that this is just how our government works and you can’t fight the power, but I believe that if you’re not idealistic, if you accept a broken system, then you derserve the horrible output that system delivers. And none of us deserves an ineffectual government.
Both of Georgia’s gubernatorial candidates are terrible choices. Right now the only stand either of them has taken in their campaign is the promise to enact stricter laws for repeat sexual offenders. Well, duh. Who doesn’t want stricter laws for child molesters? That’s a no brainier. Tell me what you’re going to do about Peachcare. Tell me what you’re going to do with the Hope Scholarship. Tell me how you’re going to fix Atlanta’s transit nightmare and why it’s possible for schools in the same county to have such a chasm between them.
I just want someone to make a change. I just want someone, anyone, to stand up and point out that the emperor isn’t wearing any clothes.
(Comments are still broken. Sorry! But you can always e-mail me at hannah [at] hannah beth [dot] com.)
Division
Yesterday I realized why that age old adage of not discussing politics in public exists. After church, a group of about 10 people – most of whom I know very well and serve with – went to lunch together. Somehow, and for some reason, the topic of President Bush came up and I, stupidly, made a sarcastic comment about him, mostly to myself, (something like, “oh yes, he deserves a medal,”) and my friend said, “I can’t believe you would say that!” That began a 30 to 40 minute conversation about politics, Bush and our government. I, of course, stood squarely alone.
Anyone who knows me, or has read my site for any amount of time, knows that I consider myself a Republican and that I am a fairly conservative person, politically and socially. Most people also know that I’m not exactly a novice, having received a bachelor’s in Political Science and spending a chunk of my work life in government, both as an intern and as a might-as-well-have-been-working-for-free staffer. I’ve only ever worked for Republicans and during a time when the GOP had control of both the US Congress and the Ohio House. I’ve campaigned at the local level, the state level and the national level. In 2000 I campaigned for George W. Bush, whom I thought would change the world. (I was right about that one, I guess.)
When then Gov. Bush was testing the waters about a possible presidential run, I read everything about him I could get my hands on. Voraciously I poured over articles in Texas Monthly and online magazines like Slate and Salon. Coincidentally enough, I found an interview I’d printed out that was published May 6, 1999 on salon.com. When I read it last night, I wanted to cry, both for me and for the man I truly believed (I was a True Believer) would save America from herself.
They were saying that W had the potential to reshape the political landscape. That he was a “uniter, not a divider.” Even then he had clear moral convictions and a real, life-giving faith, true. But he also said in this interview, and I quote, “Government can’t change attitude. Government can lead – a leader can lead and convince people, but there’s no law that makes people love each other.” He spoke about changing hearts in churches, synagogues and mosques, not in legislation and committees. He said that the role of a civil society is to love people and help those in need and that by doing that, by changing hearts and attitude in society, that a change in laws will follow.
And when I read that, I choked. It is the Bush Administration I see loving the least, along with his rabid “Christian” followers. Where was that kind of leadership when New Orleans residents sat and stewed at the Convention Center for FOUR DAYS while the Federal Government did nothing? Where is the love, period?
My friends said, “But.. but… but.. why aren’t you attacking Nagin or the state government?” And it’s like they couldn’t hear, didn’t want to hear, when I said that Katrina was a failure across all levels. It only takes a degree in common sense to know that. But just because the local government failed and the state government failed doesn’t get Bush off the hook, when FEMA’s entire purpose is to respond on behalf of the Federal Government in national disasters. What were they doing the four years post-9/11 if not preparing for this storm that has been brewing and threatening the Gulf Coast for decades.
In November 2005, when I cast my vote for the Kerry/Edwards ticket, I cried. My heart was broken. I felt like everything I believed in, everything I had espoused was a lie. Bush had turned me into a liar. Where was his small government? His lowered taxes? Why were we (are we) in a war we can’t win? Today I ask, how are we able to pump billions of dollars into building a government in Iraq when there are still hundreds of thousands of homeless and displaced Americans in the Gulf Coast? Why is that Thailand’s beaches and resorts were up and running less than a year after the tsunami when the casinos and tourist industry that Mississippi relies on to survive, struggles to get back on its feet? How did the people in Sri Lanka get aid – water, clothing, assistance – within 24 hours when there were Americans drowning in their attics three to four days after the storm?
I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. I find it truly mind-blowing that anyone who loves God, follows Jesus, could be okay with the job our commander-in-chief is doing around the world. How does a man who wants to follow in the footsteps of my Christ stand before the pulpit of the world and advocate for torture?
I don’t know what to do about any of it or what to say to anyone who asks me my opinion. All I can do is cling to Him and look to what I know to be true for guidance and for answers.
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Compassion
