Butt Prints in the Sand

Butt Prints In The Sand


One night I had a wondrous dream,
One set of footprints there was seen,
The footprints of my precious Lord,
But mine were not along the shore.



But then some stranger prints appeared,
And I asked the Lord, "What have we here?"
Those prints are large and round and neat,
"But Lord they are too big for feet."




"My child," He said in somber tones,
"For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made me wait."


"You disobeyed, you would not grow,
The walk of faith, you would not know.
So I got tired, I got fed up,
and there I dropped you on your butt."


"Because in life, there comes a time,
when one must fight, and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
or leave their butt prints in the sand."



Do you ever feel like this is the image of God that you've been given by leaders in your life? That God is merciful and loving but you'd better get your act together so as not to test Him? I thought this poem was a pretty good capture of that mindset. And it bothers me because I find myself agreeing and disagreeing with it at the same time.

To Church I go....

Regardless of the conversation with my dad last week, I have been working up to attending a church for about 6 weeks now. Occasionally the idea starts in the back of my brain, I work on it, and then lug myself to some church to see what they're all about.

For this church, I actually met the pastor a few weeks ago when I was in town checking out when a new coffee and gelato shop was going to open up. Turns out the church owns this coffee shop, and the funds from that are going to help support the pastor and his family as they start this church plant.

I thought that was a great idea, was rather impressed, and the pastor was nice enough - so when he invited me to church I said I’d show up sometime. I must confess that I had some high hopes going into this, with all my thinking and struggling I thought how perfect if I could find a church that Greg and I could really plug into and have a good community with.

Silly me.

The whole layout of the service was strange. Being a churchplant, they didn’t yet have a band, so we sang to CDs, which is more or less OK – but they sang SO MANY SONGS that it was ridiculous. Then before he started the sermon, they took the tithes, which wouldn’t have bothered me so much if he hadn’t proclaimed that they do this because they don’t what you to: “Bring any of your junk into the sanctuary of God. We take care of all our business before we enter into God’s presence. That includes our tithes and offerings, and any sin. I can’t stress enough that you need to take care of your business outside of church.”

Which was a little surprising. I didn’t agree with it but I guess I can respect the honesty. I’m not sure where they expect you to deposit ‘your junk’ . . . but clearly not there.

The second item which we addressed before the sermon (which I suppose may have been ‘junk’ too), was that in the office space next to them, a counseling center for convicted sex offenders was looking at renting that space. The pastor requested money from the congregation so that they could rent out that space themselves and therefore keep “Them and their kind far away from us.” Then hastily adding: “we’ll minister to them on THEIR turf, we don’t need them anywhere near us and our children”.

This was a tough one for me. I really think that Jesus would have ministered to them period. I’m just as uncomfortable with the idea of ministering to sex offenders, but I’d like to attend a church where they know how to deal with these kinds of people in love, not just ostracizing them from their society. (This issue could be a blog in and of itself)

Lastly, as he was wrapping up his sermon, (It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t great, I just don’t remember it) he made a rather large Freudian slip. He was talking about Jesus’ sacrifice and said that Jesus had come to“Redeem your miserable little lives.” (that is a direct quote)

Your lives. Not our lives. Big difference…. and all too telling for me. So I left.

I’ll state it again, I do appreciate the honesty that was oozing out of that place. At least it didn’t waste 3 weeks of my time trying to get to the bottom line. It took 2 hours and that was it.

I was a little disappointed, but not crushed. It really wasn’t a shock to the system, just a little surprising how blatant the pastor was. He obviously has been in the game too long, or not long enough. He hasn't reached that polished level of aloofness yet.

Regardless, I think I’d like to pursue the idea of going to a local church a little further, because the idea of community appeals to me. Community with whom is really the question. Hopefully I can find a little more open-minded church with people who don’t have such big problems with bringing their ‘junk’ to God – and a pastor with a bit more experience with what ministry is all about. We’ll see.

Conversations with Dad

A week and a half ago, my dad called me up at work. This isn't unusual, I like talking to my parents for a few minutes in the morning occasionally. But this morning was different. He was agitated, frustrated, and began a long drawn-out conversation about church.


More specifically, my lack of attendance, and the dire consequences that could be showing up in my life as a result of my lack of attendance. “One man considers one day more sacred than another; another man considers every day alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.” [Romans 14:5]


I am a very blessed individual. I have a great marriage, a fantastic home with a lovely lawn and garden where the cosmos are high, a cute cat, and we both have nice jobs. Life is good.


My dad seems to believe that if I don’t go to church regularly to ‘fellowship with other believers’ that these blessings could get taken away, because I’m not showing proper gratitude to God. Perhaps, once upon a time, I could see the logic in this – but I don’t anymore. I’m not a rock when it comes to Christianity, or spirituality even – but I don’t believe that about God at all. “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free.” [Romans 8:1]


It’s just stunning to me how painful these conversations are – it’s like my kryptonite – everything I thought I believed solidly comes into question when my dad starts railing at me – because deep down I think he probably knows better – being a pastor and all. My head takes into account what I’ve read, what I know, and it says that there’s no way that God is like some piggybank – but my heart disagrees. All the ‘teaching’ I’ve received from my father points to a somewhat vengeful God.


“God is love, but before even that – God is just.” That echoes in my mind – and it’s not even biblical – but it was drilled into me as truth, and it’s so hard to shake that tiny, damaging statement. So an hour and a half later, after I had repeatedly told my dad that it was no longer any of his business to talk to me about this, and that as an adult I could make decisions and live with those consequences on my own…did I collapse in an emotionally exhausted heap.


The funny thing is, it’s more about my dad’s self-image that he expresses these concerns than anything else. He runs a semi-successful missions ministry, and he is constantly comparing the 4 of his children to all the other fantastic preacher’s kids he meets during his travels. He laments that he’s a ‘failure as a father’ never seeing the irony that he’s failing more now, than he ever has. He would hate for other people to find out the attitude his children really have towards the ministry. He has found much success in presenting a false image to his supporters, and they feed the image by appreciating the fully-put-together-family-package that we all represented when we were still at home. “So whatever you believe about these things keep between yourself and God. Blessed is the man who does not condemn himself by what he approves.” [Romans 14:22]


The problem with that is eventually you start to crave something real. And that’s where I’m at – trying to find something real to stand on. A spirituality which allows you to be yourself – appreciated as such, with other people who aren’t perfect and don’t pretend to be….see why I don’t attend church?


So our conversation ended, and dad, as always, was completely frustrated – and I, as always, was completely exhausted. I think at this point he doesn’t believe my husband, brothers, sister and I are really even Christians anymore….and maybe we’re not – at least by his definition. “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.” [Romans 5: 1-2]


The worst part is, that every single conversation we have like this drives me even further away from any semblance of God – I just want to hide, to heal, to run away from the topic and as the topic includes God, to stay away from him too – because my dad’s words are like lashings across my back, and they sting my mind and heart. Not because they’re true, but because they’re hurtful, and calculatedly so. “Accept him whose faith is weak, without passing judgment on disputable matters. Who are you to judge someone else's servant? To his own master he stands or falls. And he will stand, for the Lord is able to make him stand.” [Romans 14:1 & 4]


So rather than encouraging his kids to attend church, he’s really discouraging them – causing even more damage, more arguments, more division within his family, more hurt, more loathing. How is that from God? If he’s really the great spiritual leader he claims to be, how can this come from his mouth? “Out of the same mouth proceeds blessing and curse; my brothers, these things ought so not to be" [James 3:10]


It’s really just painful, and more obstacles to overcome as I continue to press forward on this path that I hope leads to some sort of spiritual freedom. I just wish he’d keep his thoughts to himself. I’d be getting much farther, I think.


May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. [Romans 15:13]

A background

My father is a pastor. My father is one of those black and white pastors who preaches a loving God, and who teaches guilt, condemnation and bondage. I have found growing up that teaching is much more effective than preaching.


I've also found that though it's easy to say that God is a loving God – but that monster god that's been defined for me through all my years has been a very difficult one to shake. He clings to my back and scratches threats in my ears each time I screw up or don't attend church. The enormous amount of blessings I've received in my marriage, work and home all come with the whisperings that it could all be taken away should I continue on this path of selfishness and not get my act together.


And by getting my act together, I mean acting Christian. Going to church, reading the Bible, fellowshipping with believers, praying for my meals, before I go to bed and generally without ceasing, tithing, evangelizing to the unbelievers that they too, might have this Gift of Eternal Life. Oh yes. I know the language rather well.


I've not darkened the door of a church in over a year now - not attended church with any sort of regularity (let's define that by at least once a month) for almost 6 years. I cringe when the bible is cracked open, wince when praise music is played, and shy away from anyone who insists on getting preachy with me. My two brothers and sister are all in different phases of the same state.


The worst thing about all this, is that I WANT to be a Christian, and have that kind of faith that God is good, and loving, and that church is something to look forward to and praying occurs naturally and the Bible is relevant….all of that I would really like to have. It’s not that I think life would be rosy – I’m much to cynical for that – but having some sort of a partnership with God through this life – something to really cling to and believe is appealing.


As of now, each time I try and return to any sort of faith, it feels more like the sinuous twistings of returning to an abusive relationship. The battered woman returning to her lover just to have a few good hours or days before the beating continues again and she has to leave this lifestyle she really doesn’t know how to live without.


Clearly, my definition of God is messed up. And I think that in order to have any kind of freedom, I’ll have to redefine him. How is an entirely different matter, but it’s a starting point.

In the beginning

I've started this blog to mainly be a diary for any sort of musings I have on Christianity in general, and hopefully, to find some freedom in it all as I search through the rubbish pile of the past and start to move forward into something that resembles a relationship with God. The very fact that I cringe just to put his name down so starkly in this paragraph speaks volumes to the amount of work may just lay ahead.

But, Rome wasn't built in a day, and I suppose any sort of meaningful relationship isn't either. So off I go to blog along my journey.