The Value of Questions

If I could go back in my life and change anything, I think I would spend a lot more time asking questions and a lot less trying to have all the answers. Like most people, many of the roles I had in life seemed to demand of me to have the answers. As a student, a bookkeeper, parent, tutor, women’s ministry leader, Bible teacher, people in my life were looking for answers and I decided it was my responsibility to have them.

My motives were pure, at least most of the time. I really wanted to help. I know what it feels like to struggle through questions, especially the deep ones – questions about death, healing, the meaning of life, roles, destiny. Plain and simple, I hated to see people struggle or suffer. Whatever role I had, I made it a point of trying to have the answer.

I began to see the value of questions while co-leading a Bible study on Genesis. In  chapter 3 alone, I saw how many times God Himself asked questions instead just giving answers.

• Where are you? (To Adam and Eve who were hiding from God after eating the forbidden fruit).
• Who told you that you were naked?
• What is this you have done?

I don’t know about you, but it intrigued me that the God of the Universe would be in need of any information. Doesn’t He know all things? And then I started to see that God didn’t need the answers, He was pursuing relationship with Adam and Eve, a relationship that they were hiding from because of their sin. God wanted to be in conversation with those two people He loved deeply.

When we ask questions, we are inviting people into a conversation. Questions tell another person that you care about what they think, what they feel, and who they are. When people asked me questions, deep questions, I thought they only wanted answers, but what they really want is relationship, sometimes with me and sometimes with someone greater. Yes, they truly may want the answer, but behind it all, behind many question is a desire for relationship.

And what if that greater relationship is with the Answer, capital A. All along I was desperately trying to give people answers, thinking they would be satisfied once they found them. But more questions come.

So, now I am asking more questions because I want relationship with others. I want to hear their heart and connect more deeply. And when they ask me questions, I accept their invitation to relationship and we have a conversation, the give and take kind, giving my thoughts and asking theirs. The pressure’s off. I don’t have to have all the answers. I know the Answer. He lives in me, and I know He is pursuing relationship with everyone.

He is enough. He is the answer.

What I Learned from the Flying Circus

Last night I got to enjoy my husband’s Fathers’ Day gift. Knowing how much he likes comedians, our crew gave him two tickets to see Eric Idle and John Cleese’s Together Again at Last for the Very First Time Comedy Tour. It was hilarious and insightful and a little bawdy, but what can you expect from two members of Monty Python?

The evening was filled with sketches, video, music, and some reminiscing. In aging Monty Python style, Idle and Cleese sat on red oversized chairs and shared with the audience how they met and how their comedy troupe, Monty Python’s Flying Circus, began. Their story was fascinating.

When they first approached BBC with their idea, they really didn’t have much of a concrete plan, except they wanted to do comedy sketches. Even with a nebulous proposal, they were given a slot on Sunday night British television to do as they wanted. And Monty Python was born.

What intrigued me about their story is that the cast were all writers and they had no plans to hire performers. It would be a do-it-yourself production. In preparation for a show, they would break into groups to write sketches and when they reconvened, the pairs would try their material in front of the team. If everyone laughed, it would become part of the show, and if not, it was trashed. Cleese commented that the one thing they never argued about was who would play what character. If you wrote it, you played in it. In a room full of funny people, people with egos and opinions, they never fought over who would play what role. That fascinates me.

It made me think of the story each of us is living. We are individuals, and as individuals, we are also part of a group, a community, a troupe. We struggle sometimes over who should play certain roles. I know I do. But, if we are writing part of the story, why would we hand over our role to someone else? Yes, we are part of a team, but each member is valuable and there is a time for each member to take the lead.

Leading makes me uncomfortable, but from time and time I have been pushed into that place. In almost every instance, I have tried to pass off leadership to someone I thought was more confident, more qualified, more polished. One wise friend saw what I was doing, and gently reminded me, “Susan, we asked you to lead this group, not ________. You can do this. I believe in you.”

I believe in you. Those words should be edifying and encouraging, right? But all they did for me was make me feel like an imposter. I would think to myself if you only knew me and my skill level, you would change your mind in a heartbeat. Or I would think about someone who seemed infinitely more suited for the position and feel even more inadequate.

Sometimes we get to lead, with knees knocking and pulse racing. We may not feel qualified, wanting to pass our role off to someone else, but that would be a mistake. We get to be the leading character in our story. Yes, there are times we get to have a supporting role in someone else’s story – a role I’m very comfortable with –  but we can’t stay there. We would miss our own story, our own contribution to the world.

I love that the performers of Monty Python were also the writers. I love that they didn’t pass off their roles. I love that they really didn’t have a solid plan going into production except they wanted to do comedy. I love that they respected each member’s opinion and sense of humor and that was enough for them. I love that the opinion of their friends and colleagues were more important than the opinion of the critics. I love that they were creative and enjoyed what they did for years and years and years.

I went to the Comedy Tour to be entertained, but left not only entertained but also inspired. Thank you, Eric Idle and John Cleese, for sharing lessons from The Flying Circus.

 

Held: the Power of a Name

Over the Christmas holidays last year, my husband and I went to see the movie, Wild. I was riveted, repulsed, intrigued, moved, heart broken, nauseated, but more than anything, I was gripped. Cheryl Strayed’s journey from grief to life pulled me in and spoke to me on so many levels.

After losing her mother, Cheryl went on a journey of self destruction and abuse (that was the repulsive, nauseating, heart breaking part), and at some point, after losing almost everything important to her, she decides to hike alone on the Pacific Coast Trail starting in the Mojave Desert and ending at the Bridge of the Gods in Oregon.

One of the important things she lost along the way was her husband in a divorce. They were amiable about the whole thing, but their marriage was destroyed and they decided to end it. Here are her words about the experience.

When we were filling out the divorce documents there was this line on which you could write whatever you wanted your new legal name to be. So much was ending and beginning for me then—I tell the whole story in my memoir, Wild. I knew naming myself was important and I set about it with great intention in the months before my ex and I finalized our divorce. I read the dictionary. I searched favorite novels and poems. One day the word strayed came to me and I knew it was my name…Strayed is the realest name I’ll ever have. It feels like my heritage.

Interview with Cheryl Strayed.

She was incredibly deliberate about naming herself. For her, the definition of strayed aptly described her life up until then – to move away aimlessly from a group or from the right course or place.

That act of naming herself so impacted me that I gave the idea a lot of thought and prayer. No, I didn’t legally change my name, but I did think about what it would be at this point in my life, if I could change it. And this is the name I came up with, Susan Held. In this season of my life, I feel held by God. I no longer feel like there is a relational separation caused by my sin or failure that I have to build a bridge back to through good works and performance. I am held because He loves me just the way I am, not because I am good but because He is good and I am His.

The truth is, we all could change our last name to Held right now because it’s true. He loves us not based on our behavior or our actions. He loves because that’s who He is. And He holds us in that love. Healing came to my heart when I started living in the reality that I am loved and I am held by Love. As it turns out my name could have been Susan Held all along because He has held me from the day I was born into this world. I didn’t always sense it, but He was.

And He is holding you now in His love. It may be hard to accept or believe, and that’s okay. I lived a long time unable to believe this. I didn’t do anything special to live in this awareness. I simply started asking Him to convince me of His love for me. It didn’t happen overnight, but it’s happening and it’s changing me. Everyday I live, He continues to convince me. I don’t need to convince myself. He is able.

So, when the story of my life is finished and you see the name Susan Held on the cover, I hope you’ll remember it’s me.

Friends: People Who Think You’re Wonderful

What kinds of friends have you surrounded yourself with? It’s a really important question to ask and the answer might say a lot about how you view yourself and others.

Years ago, a dear friend of mine and her family started attending a different church. We were good friends and had been through a lot together – homeschooling, ministry, leadership, starting a church. Anyway, after a couple of weeks, she gave me a call to catch up on family stuff and life. The subject of her new church came up, and she was eager to share some of the wisdom she had learned there.

She began her discussion about her new church with, “Our pastor encourages us to surround ourselves with people who think we are wonderful.” I was silent. I was waiting for the laughter, the disagreement, the scorn, but to my surprise, she was all on board with this fresh insight. She continued, “He told us if you have people in your life that want to change you, you don’t need them.” I remember saying words like wow and really in response. We spoke for a while and finished our conversation after sharing stories of church and family. We stayed in touch for many years and had a couple of other shared experiences after that. The funny thing is, she was really one of those people who thought I was wonderful, and I felt the same way about her.

Anyway, fast forward seventeen years, and I still remember those words. The only difference is, I am now finally convinced her pastor was right.

Let me explain. I always struggled with liking myself. I think I was born with a self improvement book in my hand. I actually avoided reading fiction for over twenty years (with the exception of homeschool related fiction) in favor of self improvement books because I wanted to be better. I felt like I needed to improve myself so that God’s opinion and the opinion others had of me would improve. So, I found myself gravitating towards people who I thought were either better than me (a model I could aspire to) or people who wanted to change me (a job I thought was very much needed). The thought of anyone thinking I was wonderful was ridiculous.

Guess what, I am finally starting to believe I am wonderful. And so are YOU.

In Psalm 139, the Psalmist proclaims, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.” He was literally convinced of his value and worth.

Paul says in Ephesians 2:10, “ For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” This means we are a one of a kind original created by the Creator. As far as I am concerned, that makes our value PRICELESS.

And right from Jesus’ mouth he says, “I no longer call you slaves, because the slave does not understand what his master is doing. But I have called you friends, because I have revealed to you everything I heard from my Father.” I am a friend of God.  Can there be anything of more worth than being His friend?

A wonderfully made creation, a masterpiece, a friend of God is not an improvement project for people to take on. God likes you just the way you are. If you read all the self help books available until He returns, it would in no way change His opinion of you. Yes, He is transforming you into His image, the image man/woman was initially made in, but He doesn’t need any help from your friends. He is enough. He alone can change you, and what’s more, he isn’t in a hurry to do so. And here’s the biggie, He’s not doing the work of sanctification so that He can stand to be around you. He loves to be around you. He just sees your potential, and knows you can live in that place.

So, it turns out that her pastor was right. We do need to surround ourselves with people who think we are wonderful because God thinks we are wonderful. Any person who has a lower opinion of you than the God of the universe is not the kind of person you need as a friend. Your group of friends in your story might be small but that’s okay. Jesus hung with a small group himself.

Are You Trying to Make Your Story Look Like a Christian One

I am not a big fan of Christian fiction, and frankly, I feel the same way about Christian movies. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll give them an E for effort. Yes, there was a time when E, not F, was the lowest level of the letter grading system.  Authors and screen writers passionately want to share their faith with the world and strengthen the faith of those already professing, so they create works that are dripping with the Gospel. And I want to say for the record, THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT, NOTHING AT ALL. On so many levels, I get it, but I don’t have to like it.

When I look back to the moment I began a personal, intimate, life changing relationship with God, I remember so wanting my life to drip with the Gospel of Jesus Christ because I wanted everyone to know Him. So I started to learn the language. I picked up a few Christian words and phrases stewardship, under the blood, answering the call, repent. Then I asked some older, more seasoned Christians what I needed to do now that I had joined them. They gave me the top five:

• wake up early to pray and read your Bible
• go to church whenever the doors are opened
• tithe on what you earn
• study the Scriptures
• Don’t drink, smoke, do drugs, or listen to secular music (Honestly, I had to look up the word secular. I had no idea God had an opinion about music).

Now I was ready to drip with the Gospel. Everyone would know my story was a Christian one because I was following the top five behaviors and was becoming fluent in Christianese. I went home to visit my mom and sisters and tried my new language on them. My mom had the most confused look on her face when I opened my mouth, especially when I quoted Scripture whenever it seemed appropriate and when it wasn’t. And then they got a front row seat to my new behavior, complete with crack of dawn devotionals and free verse prayers which omitted the catholic sign of the cross. I honestly think my mom thought I had lost my mind or had joined a cult, or both.

My intentions were sincere – I wanted the world to know Him and by acting and speaking like one of His followers, they would want to know Him. I can tell you this, my behavior and language didn’t necessary draw many to the faith. I was preachy and to be honest, a little odd, at least to those who knew me before. My mom and sisters didn’t want to be like me in any possible way and thought I had jumped into the deep end of crazy. I am happy to report no humans were deeply hurt in the early years of making my story, and despite my best/worse efforts, my family has a loving and intimate relationship with God.

Not all new converts live out their faith like I did. Some beautifully allow God to transform them and focus on loving Him, allowing any behavior or speech changes to happen organically. And I am not here to bash Christians. I am one. But what I want to say is if you’re a believer in Jesus, then your life is a Christian story. And if you live in relationship with Him, He will do the transforming in your life and in the life of others. You don’t have to worry about making your story look Christian at all. If Christ lives in you, your life will drip with the Gospel – the Gospel of grace and truth. Your mouth doesn’t have to drip with the Gospel like a faucet that never shuts off.

Your life without all the props of language and religious looking behavior is a beautiful, authentic, redemptive love story and you don’t have to manage it. No two stories should look alike because each is an original. I’m glad because I am really into original, and I think God is too.

The Artist’s Way: Nurturing Dreams

I was intrigued by the wooden box sitting on the table off to the side. It didn’t have a place of prominence in the room, but it was there, high enough to capture my attention. There’s something about a box that piques my interest.- a gift box, a  wooden jewelry box, a brightly painted toy box, round hat boxes, even boxes in my garage.  I want to know what’s inside. I want to unearth the hidden treasures buried in a drawer, a closet, the garage.

So as the leader spoke, my gaze periodically turned to this wooden box. I listen as she spoke about the journey were all on and the need for our class to be a safe place for our dreams to be shared and nurtured. But, if I were to be honest here, I was a bit distracted by that darn box.

Finally, she opened it and carefully pulled out a bird’s nest complete with feathers and even a piece of twine woven into it by it’s feathered builder. It was masterfully crafted and it’s current owner not only handled it with care but saw it’s tremendous value. Week after week, The Lady of the Box would open the lid revealing a symbol for the week’s lesson – a seashell for safety, a kite for possibility, headphones for connection, and so on.

Week nine of The Artist’s Way, our assignment was to bring a totem or symbol to class. I wasn’t sure about a totem, but a symbol worked for me. Symbols can be concise and powerful reminders when words are abundant. We were asked to bring a totem/symbol to class representing one of our dreams fulfilled. When I considered the dreams I have, I realized many are in the gestation stage. Growth is happening, but they are not necessarily ready for the world.

My symbol, as it turns out, ended up being a nest – the first item our leader took from the box. I went on Pinterest and saw a small nest pendant made from wire and beads. Instead of purchasing it, I decided to try my hand at jewelry making, a feeble attempt, I might add. Jewelry design is not in my wheelhouse of creativity. My bird’s nest would contain three small beads, each representing the dreams that are still growing inside of me. I threaded my bright blue dreams onto the 20 gauge wire, weaving, twisting, bending the silver to create their shelter.

This is what I wrote in my morning pages after I had finished my symbol.

Dreams are fragile

Dreams take time

Dreams grow on the inside even when there’s nothing to see on the outside

Dreams must be birthed

Dreams must leave the nest so they can soar

I made a nest for myself and one for The Lady of the Box as a gesture to thank her for being part of the nurturing process. She handled my dreams and the dreams of the other Artist Wayers as carefully as she held that nest on the first night of class.

As it turns out, this group was a very safe place for dreams whether they were still being incubated or standing on the edge of the nest poised to soar.

The Artist’s Way: Dwelling in Possibility

List five things you are not allowed to do: kill your boss, scream in church, go outside naked, make a scene, quit your job. Now do that thing on paper. Write it, draw it, paint it, act it out, collage it. – Task 4, week 8 of The Artist’s Way

Those things are not in the realm of possibility for me or for most people for that matter. But what about for an artist?

I considered the assignment. The first thing that came to mind was taking a bath in chocolate. I’m not quite sure which appealed to me most, a chocolate bath or drawing the image. I quickly dismissed the idea for two reasons. First of all, I don’t do naked much in life and never in my art, so the picture of me in a bathtub looking down at my knees poking out of a tub of thick creamy chocolate was hilarious and out of character. Secondly, we had men in our class and feeling the weight of responsibility to make sure I didn’t cause my brothers to stumble, I put that subject right out of my mind. Just so you know, I am rethinking the naked thing, at least in my art, but I’ll save that for another post. 

I wandered onto other images of childhood fancies and young daydreams and finally landed on me riding my bright red Schwinn Pixie bicycle with the white basket through the Winn Dixie. I loved the idea of dodging people and maneuvering through the tight turns.

And then it hit me, the insecurity, a familiar roadblock in the creative process. What if I couldn’t create this piece in a way fitting for a want-to-be illustrator? You see, the first day of class we were asked to go around the room, introduce ourselves, and share a creative dream we have had. I remember half choking out, “I have always wanted to be an illustrator/writer of children’s books.” As soon as those words left my mouth, I felt like I had revealed a secret that would have been better off left in the closet of my mind. That way, no one would get hurt, especially me. Once a dream is spoken out, it somehow feels like it can’t be shoved back in, like a baby making it’s screaming entrance into the world, never to return to the safety of the womb. I reassured myself that many weeks had passed since my pronouncement, so surely by now it would be forgotten.

I ignored the fear and sat down to paint the image in my mind. My imagination began taking over, and soon I was in the Winn Dixie making serpentine movements around the fresh vegetable and fruit displays. I envisioned myself soaring down each aisle, weaving around the shoppers moving at a glacial pace with their carts. With every aisle that I went down, my speed picked up and my confidence soared. I could see box after box of cereal and imagined grabbing some Count Chocula and placing it in my basket. A girl can work up a thirst after all that activity, off to the Coke aisle for a little refreshment. Every southerner knows, Coke is not a brand but a category of beverage. The grand adventure ended with me sailing through the checkout and exiting out through the automatic doors.

With each stroke of my color laden brush and every carefully placed ebony line, I found myself experiencing a childhood impulse I only imagined. Creativity had given me opportunity to do the unthinkable, to act uncharacteristically, to be bold, to be impetuous, to dwell in possibility.

Thursday came around and I arrived with my watercolor in tow – Whimsy in the Winn Dixie. Though I had contemplated  accidentally leaving it at home, I sheepishly shared my offering with my fellow Wayers. To my surprise they received it with open arms –  no judgment, no critiques, only encouragement. I blushed with gratitude. Every forbidden expression shared that night was received the same way. Such a beautiful moment.

At the close of class, the Silver Desiderata asked if she could read a children’s book she purchased on one of her Artist’s Dates. This woman had such an innocent wonder about life. She read to us like we were children sitting cross legged in a magic circle of story time. She turned the illustrations towards us and read expressively, making eye contact from time to time. We were captivated. We were children again. The book had no hidden adult message and the reader had no special interpretation or secret agenda. She simply wanted to share the delight she had found in the words and art in this children’s book.

As she closed the book, she looked into my eyes and handed it to me. She said she remembered my dream of wanting to be an illustrator, so she decided the best place for this book would be with me. My eyes puddled as her words watered my dreams. For that moment and many moments since, I dwell in the possibility that not just one day in the future, but today, I am an illustrator.

Forgiveness: A Novel Approach

In my senior year of high school, I had to write a 10 page term paper for my Literature class. Since my mom was born and raised in Ireland, writing on James Joyce’s acclaimed novel, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, seemed like a great idea. NOT!!!  About 50 pages into the book, I knew I had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late – I had already submitted my proposal. My interest level on a scale from one to ten was about a negative 5, so I did what any self respecting, straight A, God fearing Catholic girl would do, I bought the Cliffs Notes.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with this, these are guides that basically give a brief summary and analysis of a piece of literature.  In short, they are a form of bypassing reading a book.

I did end up reading other critiques, but the point is, I NEVER COMPLETELY READ THE NOVEL.  To make matters worse, I got an A on my term paper.  Instead of engaging with the ideas presented in Joyce’s novel, instead of interacting with the characters, feeling their pain and experiencing their joy, instead of analyzing the conflict and themes presented in his work, I turned to a sterile, fact filled book telling me the gist of the story, giving me a brief description of the characters, the setting, and the themes.  Go ahead and judge me, but please know, this rule follower has spent countless hours since leaving high school judging herself for this decision, and it now hangs on my Wall of Shame.

So, imagine my shock when I realized that I have applied the Cliffs Notes version of forgiveness to most of my life.  I have turned to a formulaic, step by step approach to forgiveness that focused on me and my ability to forgive.  The frustrating part was I would feel better for a while, but the pain never really seemed to go away.  Somehow, I had confused giving someone a pass as forgiveness, but dismissing is NOT releasing.

True forgiveness is the novel approach.  It has characters, emotions, conflict, deception, betrayal, pain, and healing, lasting healing.  True forgiveness is specific, not vague, listing more than just facts. It includes painful, gut wrenching emotions that accompanied the wounds inflicted.  Forgiveness also delves deeper, looking through the emotions into the lies behind them.  But most importantly, true forgiveness does not focus on me and my ability to forgive. It focuses on a Person who is forgiveness personified, Jesus Christ, the hero of the novel.

Genuine, lasting forgiveness is not fiction; it is a reality!  And it is freedom for those who are brave enough to be honest with their feelings and are willing to trust their Healer. Go ahead, list the offenses, the wrongs, the wounds, and be specific.  Write down how they made you feel and be liberal with your feelings. Pile them high, but please feel them.  Ask God to then show you the lies you have embraced because of the wounds that were inflicted onto you. I’m no good. I am only valuable because of what I do, not because of who I am. I don’t need anyone. I desperately need someone. No one cares.

And then, ask God to help you forgive. Acknowledging the debt and release the offender from it. Accept them unconditionally, even if they choose to hurt you again.    Now here is the good part, ask Father God to give you an exchange.  Let Him flip that pain.  Let Him replace the lies with the truth.  It can be a picture, a word, a Scripture, an experience.  It might take time before you get it, but it will come. Forgiveness will actually be the reality of your life.

When it comes to forgiveness, don’t settle by giving someone a pass.  If you engage in true forgiveness, you will forever be changed and that pain that has followed you all your life, the Healer will take it away, making it a distant memory instead of present pain.

Have to Believe

When I look out before me, past the sleeping rhododendrons resting on beds of graying grass, into the horizon where sky meets hazy mountains, I just have to believe there is someone bigger holding this all together.

When I see the rhythms of the seasons, the punctuality of the the sun rising every morning, and the dancing of the tides to the magnetic tune of the moon,I have to believe there is someone choreographing these timely movements.

When I hear the skillful duet of two little song birds generously singing their refrain to each other while the wind makes the noise of a shaker with the dry browning leaving hanging on their limbs for dear life, I have to believe there is a conductor behind this organic music.

When I feel the hand of my beloved grasping onto mine, feeling his love pulsing through my hand like a gravitational force holding my feet to the earth as my heart soars to the stars, I have to believe that a love like this has to be patterned by a skillful designer.

And when I walk the streets of the River Arts District and peer into studios of working artists, seeing countless expressions of creativity flowing from each one, I have to believe there is a Creator, an Artist, who is taking delight in watching His beautiful children expressing themselves, being just like their daddy, Papa God.

I just have to believe.