Prelude
I will admit something to you. I am horribly selfish, self-centered, and prideful. And that is exactly why I have struggled with whether or not to start this blog. A blog about me and my experiences might only feed that selfishness, and that is something I would like to avoid.
However, it is possible that, in reviewing my own past and explaining my changes in understanding and thought, someone else might be helped in their own struggles...and that would be reason enough to begin on this endeavor. So, to that end, I pray God's help in restraining my selfishness, repent where I have failed already, and here I will begin.
The purpose of this blog is to chronicle my "spiritual journey" if you will, but more than just telling a story, I would like to consider and examine the theology that drove the story, and how it changed over time, and most importantly, WHY. I'm afraid this will not be entirely linear, and posts may jump all over the timeline, because in each post I would like to consider a belief, or a worldview/way of thinking, which would probably be more a fruitful and coherent approach than a play-by-play of events in order.
So, while this is my aim, I also realize that I should give some background, to provide some context. It's quite possible, dear reader, that you have never met me, and the sum total of what you know about me is contained in the previous two paragraphs. Or perhaps you and I are acquainted, but we have not known each other our whole lives, and so there are gaps in your knowledge of either my present or my past. And thus my aim in this post is to give you a summary of who I am and where I come from, specifically from a spiritual standpoint. Sadly, my forte is not in succinctness, especially as I consider no detail insignificant...yet in honor of your time, dear reader, I will do my best to just hit the high points.
I was born in 1983, to two wonderful Christian parents. We lived in a small town (a population of about 600), and attended the same little church my entire childhood. I have great memories of that place. My father was an elder, my mother was a deaconess. We lived about half-a-mile away and attended, well, religiously, and I never doubted the foundational truths of the faith: that Jesus lived, died and rose again for my sins, that the Bible was inspired and inerrant, that God was 3-in-one, heaven and hell were real. I still remember praying the "sinner's prayer" as a child, after asking my Daddy about why I wasn't allowed to participate in the snack time...you know, when they passed around the bread and juice.
I was baptized at age 10, in a lake, at the annual church picnic; I can still feel the squishy clay bottom oozing between my toes, see the people lined up on the shore. I honestly don't know much about the church, as far as what was preached. I was young, and my memory is poor. I do know that it had previously been two churches that merged - before I was born I believe - one being Presbyterian, the other...I forget. While I was there (and to this day), it was not associated with any particular denomination. It was very conservative and traditional, and looking back, I can see that there were remnants of a liturgy in the service, things like singing certain hymns at certain times, such as after the offering and after communion ("We give thee but thine own..." and "Blest be the tie that binds" respectively). At first we sang predominantly hymns, then in my early teen years praise choruses were introduced. (I participated in them, playing the tambourine, then guitar, then electric bass) As a teen, I was a faithful youth group participant, including visits to a youth rally called Acquire the Fire (Ron Luce was the main speaker) where I "rededicated my life to Christ." During the summer months, I would attend (and eventually work at) a Christian camp, run by Mennonites, but that was quite ecumenical, (including all branches of Christianity.)
During all of this, I attended a non-denominational Christian school (K-12). I memorized Bible verses, attended weekly chapel services, was taught the Bible, and made friends with people from all sorts of denominations. While the goal was to stick to the "basics", the things we could all agree on, I still was introduced, both in school and at the summer camp, to all sorts of different perspectives on things. From pre-trib vs post-trib, to speaking in tongues and baptism of the Holy Spirit, to contemporary worship, I met all sorts of different beliefs. After high school, I enrolled at a private Christian college, also non-denominational. There I met people, and professors, who questioned things like a literal reading of the Bible. I visited various churches, with the decision on where to go each Sunday usually decided by where I could most easily get a ride. One Sunday I'd be at a Presbyterian church, the next a Vineyard, the next Baptist. At one time I even found myself at a Greek Orthodox church. I got a little taste of everything, and indeed I considered the different branches of Christianity to be, for the most part, a difference in taste, little more than personal style preference.
I met my husband at camp. Again we bounced around to different churches during the summer months, but the one we found ourselves at the most was a former-Mennonite-church-turned-charismatic. I liked the casualness, I liked the enthusiastic worship, and the preaching was certainly interesting.
When we got married, church fell to the back burner for a while, and as one might put off finding a new dentist when they move, so we put off selecting a church. Honestly, it wasn't a high priority. I drifted a bit, and didn't really care as much about all "that stuff". Eventually though, like the pestering of a mild tooth-ache, I had the nagging realization that my faith was hanging on by a thread, and resolved that we needed to get plugged in to a church. We tried a couple, but eventually landed in a Vineyard church. Being a musical person it really appealed to me, and in fact it wasn't too long before my abilities were discovered, and I found myself on the stage, with my bass guitar strapped on. It was a bit of a thrill. The church was attractive for other reasons too: the preaching was practical, the pastor was earthy, the dress was casual, and the emphasis was on reaching the lost (through outreach/works of charity, and through attracting people to attend the Sunday service.) We joined a small group, made friends, got involved, and I got more serious about my faith.
Several years later, my husband's job moved him far enough away that we decided to move. It was heartbreaking to separate from the church I loved and the friends we'd grown attached to, but for the sake of our young family (our first son had been born at that point), we uprooted ourselves and found a new home. Locating a new church there was simple: we had several friends from camp who attended one church, so we visited it, and I loved it. It had a similar worship style, but the preaching was deeper and more solid. It felt like oxygen pouring into my lungs; I hadn't realized how starved I'd been. We joined a small group right away, and I spoke with the worship leader and let her know I was interested. Wouldn't you know, they were desperately in need of a bass player, and had been praying God would send one? I found this immensely comforting and saw it as confirmation that we were in the right place.
Our second son was born in the fall of that first year. We became more connected with the people in our new church, formed new relationships, strengthened old ones, and settled in. Of course, life with other human beings is inevitably fraught with difficulty, and our life did not escape this. In a significant event, my internal struggles (with depression and other things) came woefully to light in a somewhat dramatic way. My own wretched sinfulness was put on display in a way that brought me to a place of utter dismay, despair, and turmoil. Many turned their backs on me (and rightfully so), and I came to the end of myself. After days of not eating and not sleeping, I cared no more whether anyone else in the world ever spoke to me again, only wanting to know how I could stand before my God. I felt like a drowning man thrashing about in a raging sea with nothing to grasp onto...and then my foot smashed into a solid rock beneath the surface, a rock I could stand on to get my head above the water. And as someone in that situation would disdain the pain of the broken foot in favor of the rescue it provided, so I grasped the beautiful pain of the humanly-repulsive truth of salvation by nothing but grace. I asked, "Was Jesus' death enough, even for this?" The things I'd been taught and that I supposedly believed were put to the test, and I realized that yes, yes indeed they were true. I walked into the room, awash in tears and despair, and walked out with dry eyes and a smile on my face. I tell that story because it was a moment of transformation for me, a moment of clarity and humility.
I continued to attend the same church, despite the broken relationships (though I apologized as completely as I could, it was not enough to mend the wrong I'd done), and I cannot convey to you in words how difficult that was. We continued to rub shoulders at church during the following years, and each time my sins would accuse me anew, I would wrestle with them, and return to the cross. I dove into my faith with a new furor, a new hunger to know more, to understand more. I read book after book after book, usually relying on some internal nudging of the Holy Spirit to guide me to what to read next. I read authors as varied as Francis Chan, Beth Moore, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Donald Miller, Priscilla Shirer, Dee Brestin, Jen Hatmaker, Lysa Terkeurst, Jonathan Cahn, David Platt...and many others. At some point my reading shifted, and I started being more interested in biographies, such as "God's Smuggler" by Brother Andrew, and "The Hiding Place" by Corrie Ten Boom. What I believed about God and my role and the role of the Holy Spirit gradually shifted. I started to be more open to different interpretations, even as I believed that I was growing in discernment.
Things started changing in the church as new leadership was being trained. In fact, there was a major falling out within the leadership team, and a large number of people left the church. I was friends with people on both sides, and found myself caught in the middle somewhat. As time went on and the major hemorrhaging of people leaving slowed to a trickle, I began questioning more and more some of the underlying changes in the leadership's approaches, turning to the Bible to try and find answers. I discovered areas I simply could not agree with, and eventually voiced my concerns to my dear friends (who were much of the driving force behind it all.) Time went on, and my questions remained, but I refused to give up on my church family and add to the pain by being yet another person to walk out the door.
My husband was becoming more and more discontented in the church, and so despite my personal resolution to remain, I came to a point of realizing something needed to change, and I "let go and let God" - I gave Him the opportunity to reveal His will in the situation. No sooner had I done so than all manner of signs started manifesting, pointing to His leading us to another church nearby, one where I'd made many connections and had been attending their women's Bible study for the previous 6 months. The final sign was a new bass player walking into the church (who could replace me on the worship team), and that was the proverbial nail in the coffin. In blind faith in God and His leading, I moved our family to a new church.
I was welcomed with open arms, especially when I let slip that I'd spent the last two years learning the drums - they no longer had a drummer and were becoming desperate. The people were friendly and happy to have us, and some of my husband's friends were members of the congregation, as well as a few from our days at the summer camp. Unfortunately, his discontent with the church followed us to this one as well, and my hopes and expectations began to crumble. I started questioning more and more some of the things I'd come to accept, things like modern-day prophecy, how God speaks to us, the role of women in the church, and what the proper way to interpret Scripture was. I started digging deeper, looking to the Bible more and more, and as I found one after another of my previously-held beliefs did not withstand the scrutiny given them, I became relentless in my pursuit of truth and held nothing back. Not knowing who to turn to for answers, I looked to the internet, searching out other perspectives, trying to discern whether I were alone in my understandings. I found several sites with people who held a similar view of Scripture, one of not only inerrancy and inspiration, but sufficiency and clarity. Several sources became ones I'd return to, again and again, for faithful exposition with a strong emphasis on understanding the Bible in context. As my beliefs were changing, I realized my time at the new church would have to come to an end, even as we had only been there a few months and were just settling in. I looked more closely at the people online I'd been agreeing with, and discovered that the vast majority were in fact confessional Lutherans. This was something I could not ignore, and resolved to give the Lutheran church a thorough once-over, going through their doctrines with an open mind (and more importantly, an open Bible), wanting to truly understand before dismissing off-hand.
The rest is, as they say, history.
I fear I may have failed in my attempt at summary, but truly how do you summarize 34 years in one blog post? Indeed, I have left so much of value out! One thing though that I would like to emphasize: while this is an account largely of my own experiences, I do not elevate them as a guide. Their value is only in their ability to lead back to the Word of God. I do not wish to teach, but to relate my own story. If my ramblings bring you amusement, then that is well and good, but if that is all they do, then I will consider them a failure. If however they cause you to consider and reflect, and you find a desire to go to the Word to see if the conclusions I came to are truth, then indeed my goal will have been accomplished.
-M
Next post: On Understanding Scripture
However, it is possible that, in reviewing my own past and explaining my changes in understanding and thought, someone else might be helped in their own struggles...and that would be reason enough to begin on this endeavor. So, to that end, I pray God's help in restraining my selfishness, repent where I have failed already, and here I will begin.
The purpose of this blog is to chronicle my "spiritual journey" if you will, but more than just telling a story, I would like to consider and examine the theology that drove the story, and how it changed over time, and most importantly, WHY. I'm afraid this will not be entirely linear, and posts may jump all over the timeline, because in each post I would like to consider a belief, or a worldview/way of thinking, which would probably be more a fruitful and coherent approach than a play-by-play of events in order.
So, while this is my aim, I also realize that I should give some background, to provide some context. It's quite possible, dear reader, that you have never met me, and the sum total of what you know about me is contained in the previous two paragraphs. Or perhaps you and I are acquainted, but we have not known each other our whole lives, and so there are gaps in your knowledge of either my present or my past. And thus my aim in this post is to give you a summary of who I am and where I come from, specifically from a spiritual standpoint. Sadly, my forte is not in succinctness, especially as I consider no detail insignificant...yet in honor of your time, dear reader, I will do my best to just hit the high points.
I was born in 1983, to two wonderful Christian parents. We lived in a small town (a population of about 600), and attended the same little church my entire childhood. I have great memories of that place. My father was an elder, my mother was a deaconess. We lived about half-a-mile away and attended, well, religiously, and I never doubted the foundational truths of the faith: that Jesus lived, died and rose again for my sins, that the Bible was inspired and inerrant, that God was 3-in-one, heaven and hell were real. I still remember praying the "sinner's prayer" as a child, after asking my Daddy about why I wasn't allowed to participate in the snack time...you know, when they passed around the bread and juice.
I was baptized at age 10, in a lake, at the annual church picnic; I can still feel the squishy clay bottom oozing between my toes, see the people lined up on the shore. I honestly don't know much about the church, as far as what was preached. I was young, and my memory is poor. I do know that it had previously been two churches that merged - before I was born I believe - one being Presbyterian, the other...I forget. While I was there (and to this day), it was not associated with any particular denomination. It was very conservative and traditional, and looking back, I can see that there were remnants of a liturgy in the service, things like singing certain hymns at certain times, such as after the offering and after communion ("We give thee but thine own..." and "Blest be the tie that binds" respectively). At first we sang predominantly hymns, then in my early teen years praise choruses were introduced. (I participated in them, playing the tambourine, then guitar, then electric bass) As a teen, I was a faithful youth group participant, including visits to a youth rally called Acquire the Fire (Ron Luce was the main speaker) where I "rededicated my life to Christ." During the summer months, I would attend (and eventually work at) a Christian camp, run by Mennonites, but that was quite ecumenical, (including all branches of Christianity.)
During all of this, I attended a non-denominational Christian school (K-12). I memorized Bible verses, attended weekly chapel services, was taught the Bible, and made friends with people from all sorts of denominations. While the goal was to stick to the "basics", the things we could all agree on, I still was introduced, both in school and at the summer camp, to all sorts of different perspectives on things. From pre-trib vs post-trib, to speaking in tongues and baptism of the Holy Spirit, to contemporary worship, I met all sorts of different beliefs. After high school, I enrolled at a private Christian college, also non-denominational. There I met people, and professors, who questioned things like a literal reading of the Bible. I visited various churches, with the decision on where to go each Sunday usually decided by where I could most easily get a ride. One Sunday I'd be at a Presbyterian church, the next a Vineyard, the next Baptist. At one time I even found myself at a Greek Orthodox church. I got a little taste of everything, and indeed I considered the different branches of Christianity to be, for the most part, a difference in taste, little more than personal style preference.
I met my husband at camp. Again we bounced around to different churches during the summer months, but the one we found ourselves at the most was a former-Mennonite-church-turned-charismatic. I liked the casualness, I liked the enthusiastic worship, and the preaching was certainly interesting.
When we got married, church fell to the back burner for a while, and as one might put off finding a new dentist when they move, so we put off selecting a church. Honestly, it wasn't a high priority. I drifted a bit, and didn't really care as much about all "that stuff". Eventually though, like the pestering of a mild tooth-ache, I had the nagging realization that my faith was hanging on by a thread, and resolved that we needed to get plugged in to a church. We tried a couple, but eventually landed in a Vineyard church. Being a musical person it really appealed to me, and in fact it wasn't too long before my abilities were discovered, and I found myself on the stage, with my bass guitar strapped on. It was a bit of a thrill. The church was attractive for other reasons too: the preaching was practical, the pastor was earthy, the dress was casual, and the emphasis was on reaching the lost (through outreach/works of charity, and through attracting people to attend the Sunday service.) We joined a small group, made friends, got involved, and I got more serious about my faith.
Several years later, my husband's job moved him far enough away that we decided to move. It was heartbreaking to separate from the church I loved and the friends we'd grown attached to, but for the sake of our young family (our first son had been born at that point), we uprooted ourselves and found a new home. Locating a new church there was simple: we had several friends from camp who attended one church, so we visited it, and I loved it. It had a similar worship style, but the preaching was deeper and more solid. It felt like oxygen pouring into my lungs; I hadn't realized how starved I'd been. We joined a small group right away, and I spoke with the worship leader and let her know I was interested. Wouldn't you know, they were desperately in need of a bass player, and had been praying God would send one? I found this immensely comforting and saw it as confirmation that we were in the right place.
Our second son was born in the fall of that first year. We became more connected with the people in our new church, formed new relationships, strengthened old ones, and settled in. Of course, life with other human beings is inevitably fraught with difficulty, and our life did not escape this. In a significant event, my internal struggles (with depression and other things) came woefully to light in a somewhat dramatic way. My own wretched sinfulness was put on display in a way that brought me to a place of utter dismay, despair, and turmoil. Many turned their backs on me (and rightfully so), and I came to the end of myself. After days of not eating and not sleeping, I cared no more whether anyone else in the world ever spoke to me again, only wanting to know how I could stand before my God. I felt like a drowning man thrashing about in a raging sea with nothing to grasp onto...and then my foot smashed into a solid rock beneath the surface, a rock I could stand on to get my head above the water. And as someone in that situation would disdain the pain of the broken foot in favor of the rescue it provided, so I grasped the beautiful pain of the humanly-repulsive truth of salvation by nothing but grace. I asked, "Was Jesus' death enough, even for this?" The things I'd been taught and that I supposedly believed were put to the test, and I realized that yes, yes indeed they were true. I walked into the room, awash in tears and despair, and walked out with dry eyes and a smile on my face. I tell that story because it was a moment of transformation for me, a moment of clarity and humility.
I continued to attend the same church, despite the broken relationships (though I apologized as completely as I could, it was not enough to mend the wrong I'd done), and I cannot convey to you in words how difficult that was. We continued to rub shoulders at church during the following years, and each time my sins would accuse me anew, I would wrestle with them, and return to the cross. I dove into my faith with a new furor, a new hunger to know more, to understand more. I read book after book after book, usually relying on some internal nudging of the Holy Spirit to guide me to what to read next. I read authors as varied as Francis Chan, Beth Moore, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Donald Miller, Priscilla Shirer, Dee Brestin, Jen Hatmaker, Lysa Terkeurst, Jonathan Cahn, David Platt...and many others. At some point my reading shifted, and I started being more interested in biographies, such as "God's Smuggler" by Brother Andrew, and "The Hiding Place" by Corrie Ten Boom. What I believed about God and my role and the role of the Holy Spirit gradually shifted. I started to be more open to different interpretations, even as I believed that I was growing in discernment.
Things started changing in the church as new leadership was being trained. In fact, there was a major falling out within the leadership team, and a large number of people left the church. I was friends with people on both sides, and found myself caught in the middle somewhat. As time went on and the major hemorrhaging of people leaving slowed to a trickle, I began questioning more and more some of the underlying changes in the leadership's approaches, turning to the Bible to try and find answers. I discovered areas I simply could not agree with, and eventually voiced my concerns to my dear friends (who were much of the driving force behind it all.) Time went on, and my questions remained, but I refused to give up on my church family and add to the pain by being yet another person to walk out the door.
My husband was becoming more and more discontented in the church, and so despite my personal resolution to remain, I came to a point of realizing something needed to change, and I "let go and let God" - I gave Him the opportunity to reveal His will in the situation. No sooner had I done so than all manner of signs started manifesting, pointing to His leading us to another church nearby, one where I'd made many connections and had been attending their women's Bible study for the previous 6 months. The final sign was a new bass player walking into the church (who could replace me on the worship team), and that was the proverbial nail in the coffin. In blind faith in God and His leading, I moved our family to a new church.
I was welcomed with open arms, especially when I let slip that I'd spent the last two years learning the drums - they no longer had a drummer and were becoming desperate. The people were friendly and happy to have us, and some of my husband's friends were members of the congregation, as well as a few from our days at the summer camp. Unfortunately, his discontent with the church followed us to this one as well, and my hopes and expectations began to crumble. I started questioning more and more some of the things I'd come to accept, things like modern-day prophecy, how God speaks to us, the role of women in the church, and what the proper way to interpret Scripture was. I started digging deeper, looking to the Bible more and more, and as I found one after another of my previously-held beliefs did not withstand the scrutiny given them, I became relentless in my pursuit of truth and held nothing back. Not knowing who to turn to for answers, I looked to the internet, searching out other perspectives, trying to discern whether I were alone in my understandings. I found several sites with people who held a similar view of Scripture, one of not only inerrancy and inspiration, but sufficiency and clarity. Several sources became ones I'd return to, again and again, for faithful exposition with a strong emphasis on understanding the Bible in context. As my beliefs were changing, I realized my time at the new church would have to come to an end, even as we had only been there a few months and were just settling in. I looked more closely at the people online I'd been agreeing with, and discovered that the vast majority were in fact confessional Lutherans. This was something I could not ignore, and resolved to give the Lutheran church a thorough once-over, going through their doctrines with an open mind (and more importantly, an open Bible), wanting to truly understand before dismissing off-hand.
The rest is, as they say, history.
I fear I may have failed in my attempt at summary, but truly how do you summarize 34 years in one blog post? Indeed, I have left so much of value out! One thing though that I would like to emphasize: while this is an account largely of my own experiences, I do not elevate them as a guide. Their value is only in their ability to lead back to the Word of God. I do not wish to teach, but to relate my own story. If my ramblings bring you amusement, then that is well and good, but if that is all they do, then I will consider them a failure. If however they cause you to consider and reflect, and you find a desire to go to the Word to see if the conclusions I came to are truth, then indeed my goal will have been accomplished.
-M
Next post: On Understanding Scripture
Excellent, well-written post. I appreciate your candor in sharing your challenges, questions, and path. I found the focus on the Bible in confessional Lutheranism answered questions I held that were really driving me from faith as a former Catholic. Reliance was on priests and the church for spiritual guidance. The Bible was treated as if it were out of reach- reserved for reading by members of the clergy.
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