When Someone Shows You Who They Are, Believe Them

Good Evening, it's been awhile again since I've written anything on here. I journal regularly, but those are most often prayers. 

Perhaps you're sort of like me and you can tend to want to see the best in people, even forgiving them for terrible behaviour in the past and wanting to start anew with a clean slate. 

This is all well and good unless you run into a perpetual narcissist with a nasty streak. There's that saying that goes, "When someone shows you who they really are, believe them the first time." I'm learning this the hard way with a member of my family. My father and I had been estranged again for over 2 years before he landed in hospital and I felt that the compassionate thing to do would be to contact him. He assured me that the past was the past and that he "wasn't a fool anymore," and I hoped for the best. 

Well, the past didn't stay in the past very long before old toxic ways of relating to and treating people crept up again. When I was a child living through the trauma inflicted on me by him, I was stuck. I had no "out," no way of escape. This time, though, I am an adult and have agency to choose what I will and won't put up with. 

And I'm pretty much done with his shit...again. It's so very sad when you realize, sometime for the hundredth time, that this is actually who he/she is and that there is likely never going to be a transformation. I have too much respect for myself and where I've been to live through much more maltreatment. 

I think often we want so much to have healthy, even close relationships with our blood relatives, and it's a disappointment when that proves to be impossible. If you're in a similar situation, go easy on yourself and realize that you're worthy of being treated consistently with dignity and respect. 

mark-andrew

Making Time For The Things That Matter

I learned today that a childhood friend lost his mother two days ago. I will remember Kathy as being warm and very welcoming whenever I would visit as a kid. It definitely gets me thinking, as my parents are right around the same age as she was. I don't know about you, but as I get older, now almost 44, time is definitely racing by seemingly more quickly. There's a sadness about it, but also a challenge - that is, to cherish the time we do have and to squeeze every bit of life that we have given to us. 

Another friend posted on Facebook a couple years ago, asking if what we're doing with our lives is truly aligned with what our soul values and is telling us, or if we're just doing things out of routine. That's an easy thing to do, to get caught up in the monotony and dreariness of day to day life. Soon the days turn to weeks into months into several years, sometimes with seemingly little happening. 

What is it that makes you tick? What are you passionate about? If there's one message that you could give to the world or even to just your close friends before your time is up, what would it be?

Don't spend so much time coasting and just surviving that you forget to actually live. 

My beliefs about what or who God is have changed significantly over time. One of my ideas or hunches is that we are, each of us, actually an incarnation of God being born into the world. Maybe God is a curious God who wants to experience life and love so much that they are born into the universe over and over again, as us.

If this happens to be true, what unique thing are you meant to learn and experience in your limited time on earth?

May you experience love and peace today. 

mark-andrew

Claiming My Belovedness...And Other Thoughts

Good day. I hope that whoever is reading this, and whenever you're reading it, that you're having a good day.  It's been a spectacularly beautiful day here in Waterloo, Ontario - about 22 degrees Celsius or so. 

My day started off well. Miracle of miracles, I actually dragged my butt out of bed this morning and took the bus to church - Stirling Avenue Mennonite, in Kitchener. It was only my second time actually in the building for a service - the first being back on Good Friday. The church has been holding a series on death and loss for the last 3 Sundays, and I wanted to catch one of them. I'm glad that I did. Four members of the congregation got up and shared a bit of their thoughts on death. The most touching, for me, was when an older member got up and shared about "ambiguous grieving," having to slowly say goodbye to his wife who has Parkinsons and Lewy Body Dementia. Another member confessed that he is terrified of death, and that the notion of having Jesus as Saviour didn't give him any comfort. I was and am thankful to be attending a church where such raw honesty is accepted, even welcomed. There are a wide range of Mennonite churches, from Old Order, Amish, to more liberal and progressive ones such as the one I attend. To be sure, when I was initially looking for a church again two years ago, being part of a church that is LGBTQ+ affirming was a must. I'm happy to slowly be getting to know people from the church, and I just recently finished leading a book club there (we read Wholehearted Faith by Rachel Held Evans. Next up is No Cure For Being Human by Kate Bowler.)

It's been almost exactly 2 years since I re-entered the Christian fold and once again called myself a Jesus follower, after having left conservative evangelicalism 20 years prior after leaving Bible college. So...how is this Jesus-following going anyways? What does it mean to me to be a Christian now? In some ways this was much easier to define back when I was an evangelical. Being a Christian, of course, meant that I was a sinner, and that I asked Jesus to forgive me of my sins since he paid the price on the cross. It meant asking him to be my "personal Lord and Saviour" with one of the main goals being avoiding Hell and going to Heaven when I die. Two years ago when I re-entered Christianity, I knew that I would/could never go back to the majority of those beliefs, particularly the belief that we are all dirty sinners and that God had to kill his son in order to appease himself. But what does being a Christian or a Jesus-follower mean if not subscribing to those things? This is something I've wrestled with in those two years, and I suspect will wrestle with for the rest of my life. The short answer, I think, is that it means following the way of Jesus, that is, trying to be compassionate, loving, kind, just, and merciful, as he was. It makes much more sense to me to follow Jesus rather than to worship Jesus. I actually don't think he cared much for being worshiped. Instead, he was constantly saying, "Follow me." The Bible speaks of imitating Christ. This I can get behind. Right action trumps right belief. 

Do I believe in God? That is a hard question for me to answer, and my answer today might be different than it is in two weeks. For quite some time I was almost referring myself as an atheistic Christian. To be sure, I no longer believe that God is a Santa-type figure in the sky who doles out blessings and curses depending on how good or bad we are or how hard we pray.  So, then, what is God? That's too big a question to answer tonight, but if I had to guess, I'd say that God is that divine Spirit who encompasses us and enlivens us and in which we live and move and have our being. Period. Beyond that I have few answers at the moment. 

It is also almost exactly two years since my father and I last had contact.  To sum up my childhood in a few words, I survived relentless emotional and verbal abuse (which heavily contributed to my diagnoses of complex PTSD, depression, and generalized anxiety.) My father and I have had an on-again, off-again relationship ever since. What it comes down to is that I refuse to be a doormat and to have my emotions and psyche played with. I need people in my life close to me who know and respect what boundaries are, and who really see me as I truly am. And that isn't him. This causes me a fair amount of pain, especially now that he is getting older and in fairly poor health. It weighs on me regularly, but the pain of his absence is more tolerable than the psychological and emotional rollercoaster of being in touch with him is.

Going back to God for a minute. Over the last couple of days I have been re-reading what is my absolute favourite book on the spiritual life - Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen, the Catholic priest and prolific author whose surname I chose when I was wanting to change mine almost ten years ago. In the book he emphasizes how each of us, no matter our status or possessions or abilities, that each of us is a beloved child of God. And on days when I doubt that there even is a God, I can get behind this idea, that I am deeply loved and held by something, someOne greater than I can understand.

So I conclude this introduction, or re-introduction to me, which is meant for the most part for a new Twitter friend, by offering this beautiful song by Sarah Kroger, simply called Belovedness.

Mark Andrew

When You Can't Find The Words

I've read somewhere that a writer should never stop writing, even when the product is mediocre at best (or perhaps shitty at worst?) So, although I don't really have anything much to write about, here I find myself on the Blogger app at a quarter past eleven on an early spring night. Spotify is on random - so far I've been accompanied by Patty Griffin, Bing Crosby, and The Beach Boys.

Sometimes I look back at where I was 10 years ago and at what I was writing on this blog. There were a lot of posts regarding religion, and just as many about "not giving up on your dreams." Ah yes, I used to be a big dreamer. I also used to be involved in quite a lot more than I currently am. I'm thinking primarily of my time as LGBTQ Rep for Kitchener Centre's NDP, and then there was the It's My Turn movement, whose goal was to destigmatize mental illness. I appeared on local radio and tv and met with mayors and members of provincial and federal parliaments. Those were the days. Maybe you knew me back then, maybe not.

But let's go back to the dreamer. I would say that one of my biggest problems now, 10 years on, isn't so much that I've given up on my dreams so much as it is that I have pretty much no ideas what those dreams are. It's a conundrum for sure. There are shelves full of books about how to pursue your dreams, not so many about figuring out what your dreams actually are. 

I guess one thing I would say to spur myself on a bit is: Get involved, and be part of a community or communities. Don't isolate. Now, this is kinda tricky with the ongoing pandemic, which has changed me more than I like to think. To this end, I took initiative to lead a book club at my new church (we read Wholehearted Faith by Rachel Held Evans), and I felt mostly comfortable attending said church in person for the first time on Good Friday. They seem like good people there, and I'll likely get more involved with time as I settle in. 

We weren't meant to be all alone. Again, the pandemic has been a real bitch in that we've had to self-isolate and be cautious about being around anyone. 

But still I wonder, as Rhiannon Giddens beautiful rendition of Forever Young plays through my earbuds, what are my dreams? I don't have answers to that big question tonight, except that I feel a little closer by just asking the question. Self-expression, using your voice however brittle may be a key to solving this quandary. Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga agree with me just now.

Goodnight.

Thoughts on God, Atheism, & My Current Wanderings

Greetings friends, 

Inspired by the blogpost of a dear friend I have gratefully reconnected with, fueled by Beau's Lugtread Lagered Ale, and with the music of Canadian duo Whitehorse in the background, I thought I would attempt writing a blogpost of my own for the first time in a year.

Last night as I waited outside my new church for someone to arrive with keys, it struck me that I've been on quite a religious and spiritual journey. How did I come to call a Mennonite church home, of all places?!

I left Christianity twenty years ago now, opting to throw the baby out with the bathwater as it were, not knowing that there were other ways to be Christian than conservative evangelicalism. As some of you reading this can attest to, I went through several years of being rather angry and bitter towards my past beliefs and some people who still held them. Facebook was a place for me to vent, and in doing so in my thirties in particular, I alienated several friends and even a couple family members. 

I am very grateful to have stumbled upon the local Unitarian congregation some time around 15 years ago. It gave me a community to call home, and it was (is) a place with a social conscience. It looked similar to Christian churches that I had been part of. On Sunday mornings there was music, children's time, offerings, and a sermon. I was privileged to deliver sermons on three occasions (a couple of which can be found on YouTube). It gave me a place to grow and to question and to not have to come up with the "right" answers. Also, most importantly, I met one of my best friends there. I long for the day when he and I can once again share a bottle of red while singing together.

Fast forward to today. Just prior to coming here to write this, I saw this Rich Mullins quote on Facebook:

"I am sure that God is good, that God is real, and that God is love... that life is a gift and an adventure and we all do the best we can. We're all in this together and we're all weirdly alone too. Be thankful. That I guess is about all I can think of to say." (September 1995, two years before the Christian songwriter and artist would tragically die in an auto accident.)

Me with my bent glasses last night. :)

Last night as I stood outside of the church on a cold early spring evening, and then inside at book club (we're reading Rachel Held Evans' last book Wholehearted Faith), I reflected on where I currently am with my religious beliefs. 

I may be the "anti-Mullins" as I write this. I am not sure that God is good, or even that God is real. To be truthful - and in blogposts one always has to be truthful! - I would say that 75% of the time I don't believe that God even exists. 

Why on earth then would I start calling myself a Christian again, as I did two years ago come this May? Why in heaven's name would I find myself attending a Christian church?

You see, it's because I can get behind the teachings of Jesus and how revolutionary and counter-cultural they were and are. What's more, I long for a spiritual path that I can attempt to follow. And attending a church again provides community. This church that I have only attended online since the pandemic began is heavily focused on peace and social justice and reconciliation, actually making a difference in their community and world. Also, they've went through the affirming process and welcome LGBTQ+ folks into the community (something that is essential to me). 

However, talk of God as if its reality is as sure as air or water is still quite foreign to me, almost as if someone is speaking another language when they refer to God Almighty as their best friend. I just see very little evidence especially of an interventionist God, someone who doles out blessings and dishes out trials and tribulations. It baffles me when people are quick to praise God for the former, yet let him off the hook for the latter. Heartache and loneliness and mental as well as physical illnesses tell me that there is no such interventionist deity. What's more, there are countless atheists who exemplify "Christian" values more than said God-believing Christians do.

So, all this to say that I am fairly happy to be in the place where I am spiritually and religiously at the moment. Finding community with other people who want to have a positive impact on the community while following the way of Jesus, in a place where there is a lot of room for doubts, even of the existence of God.

Thanks for following along. I'll try not to wait another year before posting again.

Mark-Andrew