The Abundant Life of a Broken Heart 4: On Joy

 

Joy is a strange emotion to engage with and perhaps even stranger to feel when you are in the midst of also journeying with anxiety. But as I've said before the reality of my anxious life, is that it is not a case of being compartmentalised, of one or the other, of being sick, then being well. All these things are mixed together. And so joy and pain are met together.

Joy is the heart emotion that is perhaps most difficult to take hold of. It comes sometimes from nowhere and disappears like a wisp. As we are approaching Lent I'm reminded of the prayer of committal, prayed at funerals, from psalm 103.

For he knows of what we are made;

he remembers that we are but dust.

Our days are like the grass;

we flourish like a flower of the field;

when the wind goes over it, it is gone

and its place will know it no more.

There is something about joy, about flourishing, which is about being dust. Joy comes from a place which knows ourselves the most deeply, knows our mortality, knows our failings, knows our dustliness. I find myself most joyful in the face of the fleeting reality of ‘me’. When I accept my inconstancy and my total inability to keep myself alive, this is the place of joy, freedom and playfulness.

When I no longer need to worry, or be anxious, about portraying myself as perfect, as impassable, this is the place where the chains come off and I am liberated. My flourishing is dependent on my utter dependence on God for my next breath. Joy is dependent on the capacity of human beings, to be able to die, to let go, to let our self go, to be transformed. The capacity for joy is dependent on our capacity for pain. Joy and pain are met together, life and death kiss each other...

Anxiety is rooted in the part of the brain which protects us from death. It sounds like a good thing in that respect, and it can protect us from being reckless, protect us from a certain kamikaze attitude to our self, perhaps borne out of a self-hatred.  This is not what we are invited to, when we are invited to accept death as the gateway to life.  In that sense, embracing the capability that we have for death is not a wish to die. 

But it is from this place that the anxious heart can work either for or against our flourishing. The mechanism in the brain that deals with anxiety, incites us to fight, flight or freeze. To do whatever we can to avoid pain and death. If I allow myself to be consumed by this urge and to stay with it in a prolonged way, then the purpose and manner of my life becomes the avoidance of death. This is not the way of joy. Joy is not simply the avoidance of pain. The anxious mind can fool us into thinking that this is the case. And sometimes there is a need to do just that, to avoid, in order to take a breath, a step back, regain perspective, or heal. The problem is when this becomes a way of life. The temptation can be strong.

But the anxious mind can also help on the path to joy. Simply because the anxious mind is drawn towards the acknowledgement, if not always the acceptance, of death and of our mortal bones. The anxious mind is often in the best place, then, to make this journey to acceptance of mortality and therefore to the place of freedom from having to 'save our life'. And in this place of freedom, away from living in this defensive way, is the potential for true flourishing and the joy that can only be found in becoming the person God has made us to be. In knowing that we are dust brought to life, and only sustained in that life, by the breath of God, we are released from having to be our own source of life and joy.  

Often we, I, am caught up in the idea that I am in control of, or to put it more positively, responsible for, my own happiness.  This is what we are taught.  You must grasp it for yourself and if you are not happy, then really, it is your own fault.  You are the master of your own destiny…or something.  But joy is that thing which takes us by surprise, and over which we have no control, it enters our heart through the back door and is often found in the most inconsequential of things.  Such as the breath or heartbeat that we are given each moment, neither of which we have any control over.   

Perhaps the wisdom of pursuing joy is that it cannot be pursued, controlled, manipulated or manoeuvred.  The way to joy is to know our capacity for pain. And as we journey to Lent, to be reminded that we must know Christ in his suffering, so that we may join him in his resurrection. 

Maybe I am invited to leave a little nook in my heart for the surprises of God to delight me.  To remember that joy is a gift, just as my breath and my heartbeat are gifts.  What I have to bring, is to pay attention to those gifts and to be grateful.

REFLECTION  - PSALM 103.13,14

 

As a father has compassion for his children,

so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him.

For he knows how we were made

he remembers that we are dust.

As we head towards Lent, I am reminded why this is, I think, my favourite part of the Church's year. I am at my most liberated on the Ash Wednesdays of my life. Those moments when I am able to receive the ash, real or metaphorical, and hear the words 'remember you are but dust and to dust you will return, turn from sin and be faithful to Christ'.

These are the moments I’m at my most real, where I am freed to say 'I am a sinner' and therefore feel the full force of what it means to receive the grace of God. All the verses in Scripture which speak of us being sinners and the necessity for us to confess our sins, sing in my heart. Because it is in this reality and in the bearing all before God, the nakedness of our heart and soul, that God loves us.  Only in the love of God, I am able to return to Christ again, because whilst I am still a sinner, God comes to save me.

And honestly, that brings me joy.

 

The Abundant Life of a Broken Heart 3: On Pain

I wanted to write about my experience of anxiety in a way that rejects the binary narrative of 'either' being, for example, happy 'or' being sad. That reflects the reality of my life which has life and death all mixed up and sometimes, often, feels like the experience of living is brighter and more real, for being in the midst of a sense of dying.

I have also wanted to write with the honesty that this is not something which is 'fixed' or, to be honest needs fixing. That in the particularity of my own personhood, this is how my brain works. Sometimes the anxiety is more intense or less intense, but either way it gives me certain lenses through which I perceive the world, myself and others. And, perhaps difficult to understand, I am thankful for these lenses.

All this to explain that instead of writing about Joy which was my intention this week, I'm writing on Pain. Because the last couple of weeks have felt painful in this regard, and I want to be truthful about what that is like. And no better time for that, than when you're in it.

These moments tend to come for me when I've had a period of chronic anxiety, often circumstances catalyse this, and I feel gently nervous over a long period of time. It's not always unpleasant, a little like being excited, butterflies ever present in your stomach. But there can come a moment of crisis, where either this is alleviated, or intensifies. For me the last couple of weeks have felt like an intensification. The sense of 'threat' descends. The almost pleasant butterfly sensation tightens and becomes nausea, the desire to hibernate is Very Strong.

I have some idea why this has happened right now, I think the best explanation is 'shit happens'. Nevertheless the point is what do I do with this pain? How do I make sense of it and myself?

It is so easy to want it away and a good proportion of me, the perfectionist control freak part, is really quite pissed off. I really really hate being vulnerable. I especially hate it when it seems to have taken charge. If I am to be vulnerable, I want to offer this to you in manageable bite sized pieces, in an order that is chosen by me and of which I am in control. Instead of what feels like a churning frothing whirlpool of vomit that will erupt without warning and make a mess.

So even if I wanted to (and I mostly do), it is impossible for me to control these emotions. The only thing is to deal with the vomit. In terms of the Christian faith I walk, it's the reality of sitting with the suffering. Of touching the leper. The leper that is me, needs to be embraced, as a leper, before any healing and restoration can begin. I need to embrace the parts of me that I struggle with, the needy wounded, suffering parts.

Sitting with pain and refraining from taking on the role of Job's comforters towards myself. Allowing the pain to be noticed, to exist and for that to be okay - not that it feels okay necessarily, but that it's okay that it's not okay.

Now, I suppose there is a question about 'wallowing'. Sitting with pain in such a way that is unhealthy. Or perhaps that's just my question? (cross reference Perfectionist Control Freak) I guess my approach to this is that there is a fine line between a healthy embrace of one's woundedness and becoming consumed, but this line has to be walked, there is only this path.

What does sitting with pain look like? It looks like silent prayer - no busy words, no platitudes, no petitions, just 'here I am'. It looks like pause and paying attention - not rushing through the day, but taking the time to recognise what's going on in your head and heart, naming the particular pain whether it's anxiety, fear, shame, anger, notice it and mention it to yourself and God. It looks like being incredibly kind to yourself, parenting and pastoring yourself well. It looks like inviting people to help you, not to fix you, but to know your vulnerability. Do Not Hibernate - this is my strongest temptation, it is a way of controlling the pain but it does not engage with it, it hopes it will pass without having to think about it. It is euthanasia.

It will, as all things, pass. But pain teaches us. It teaches me about the kindness of God and that wrath and anger is in my own heart. It teaches me that God is good and I'm reminded that he touches the leper, the bleeding woman, the sinners, so I am not untouchable.

Soon the Threat Level will decrease, and I pray that I do not forget.

REFLECTION - PSALM 86

Incline your ear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy.

                                                                                      Ps 86.1

The go to place in the bible for pain must surely be the Psalms of Lament. And Psalm 86 captures for me such a lot of what it means to pay attention to and sit with your pain. There is no running away from what is going on in the emotions.

And verse one particularly draws me, because it is honest about being needy. One of the things I find most difficult is the reality of my own need. I don't want to be needy, I don't want to be perceived as needy and I don't want to accidently leak my need all over you because I want to be self sufficient.

The difficulty here is not in being helped and supported by other people but when we think another person can fill the abyss of our need. This is a sign that we are not okay with our own neediness. We want someone to fix it, knowing we can't do it ourselves.

The psalm orientates me to God, to the belovedness that I have in God, from where all need is satisfied. In the words of the psalm I am 'allowed' to be needy, but I am not in need of the absence of my need, I am in need in the presence of love, grace and mercy. Wholeness is not in the taking away of the pain, but in the abundance of God.

The Abundant Life of a Broken Heart 2: On Dying

 

In living with the particular broken heartedness that is anxiety, I have tried to be very intentional about the 'living' part, that I wrote about last time. But there is also something to say about dying.

For me (I will make this caveat a lot, because I want you to know that everyone's journey is different, and I don't want you to assume another's journey with anxiety is the same), there are two ways in which I experience the concept of dying. Firstly, and commonly I believe for the anxious, when I am in a high state of anxiety, a panic attack for example, or a long phase of 'higher than usual' chronic anxiety, I might actually think I'm dying, right there, or that I have a non curable illness. In my teenage years I spent a lot of the time thinking I had a brain tumour - not helped by the physical symptoms brought on by what I now know to be anxiety: headaches, lack of focus, forgetfulness. Ongoing anxiety over long periods of time can end in hypochondria for me. Something that is useful to know, so that I can talk to my soul in gentleness, humour and a good pinch of 'you will die, but probably not right now, and it's probably just a headache'.

I also find myself much less tolerant of the compartmentalisation of the human person. The dismissal of some dis-eases as 'psychosomatic' (and therefore fake). One of the benefits of having the reflective/anxious mind that I do, is that I have seen the interaction of mind body soul in such a way that I no longer find it simple to separate our human personhood. We are never simply physical or mental or spiritual. We are human. I blame Plato for this western preoccupation with analysing human existence into building blocks.

Some call issues with anxiety a 'mental' health issue. And yet I feel it in my body and soul. It is not simply how I think. Sometimes my mind makes my body rigid or tremble, I might struggle to know how to be 'in' my body. I find it interesting that one of the bodily symptoms of stress is chest pain, often muscular, or palpitations, from the reptilian brain telling the adrenal gland to fire into action. People often think they're having a heart attack. And often what makes me 'well' is to concentrate on my breath. To sit with my feet planted on the ground, rooted in creation, connected with the creator in a very physical way. Or when I go to my dance class, and I can feel every bit of my body, how I move, delight in the body, I'm reminded of being a body who is alive because of the breath of life, the spark of life which has been gifted to me, and all creation. My body does not simply carry my brain or soul around, my body is somehow an expression of my very self. And what I do with my body is inextricable from who I am in my mind and soul. If you need any convincing just read the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians and pay particular attention to chapter 15.

This link between anxiety and the fear of dying must also of course stimulate reflection on the reality of dying. For we will all die. In fact sometimes I have observed that the anxious are at least not in denial about this. The joy of living that I experience is sometimes hard won, sometimes it slips from me, but it also is never superficial and is perhaps because, not in spite of, the fact I know I will die.

This takes me on to the second way in which the idea of dying impacts me. And that is the very real, mind body soul, reality, that in order to live, I must die. I guess this is what Paul talks about as dying to self. We often interpret this as about being less selfish. Perhaps this makes us feel better about the dying part. But for me this is a real death. It has been about the image I hold in my head of who I am. One of the hardest things to allow to die is the idea of being strong or invulnerable somehow. Of being self sufficient, independent. When I had my first acute period of anxiety and took medication to help alleviate the constant adrenalin rush, I told myself that it was pure circumstance that had somehow knocked me off balance. The second time, well... there were some circumstances, but…

I began to think about the reality of me. Of how 'I' was reacting to my circumstances. That I might accept, even value, the vulnerability that I clearly have. And in this growing accepting of this vulnerability (still in process), there is a dying involved. I had to let go of a self which ancient philosophy, modern psychotherapy and the mystics call 'the false self', because this is the only way to live.  To allow resurrection.

It is still difficult for me. I kinda like the 'old woman' I thought I was. And sometimes she is more comfortable and safe. This is false of course, but it takes energy to resist her. Although I think I mostly know now that she isn't real.

And I know that Resurrection is true and is coming. Because I have experienced resurrection with a small 'r' and it’s given me a foretaste and a longing. And there are days, they come more often, where I really do know myself dead and alive.

 

1 COR 15 REFLECTION

For a long time I have loved 1Cor15. The images of death as the gateway to life have resonated strongly with the reality of my own life and that proclamation of v31 'I die everyday!' delights me.

As if when I awake, my first breath is my dying breath. Breathing out the 'old woman' who suffocates me and breathing in the Breath who brings me to life.

Paul's assertion of the bodily resurrection is so readily missed in our contemporary Christian story. Even though bodies have begun to be recovered in our resurrection theology, most people still have this view that heaven is floaty spirit creatures.

But for me the death of the acorn and the birth of the oak tree is so thrilling. The tree has everything to do with the acorn and yet who would have the imagination that the one grew from the other? And in the body, the wrinkles and grey hairs that are appearing as a sign of my movement towards this real life, are glorious.  The anti-aging movement is a disgrace really - it is offering a pseudo-youth, which is in fact real death, a denial of the truth that aging, dying, is a sign of living, and Life. And don't we see that the tree is surely more solid, real, lasting than the seed. The seed is beautiful but its purpose is always to be the place of nurture from which the tree explodes!

Our life now though, is not simply a dying.  We are not here as some waiting room for the real thing, it could be easy to misinterpret that and many have.  Many have said that what we do and who we are now is of no real consequence, but that is far from what Paul is saying. Resurrection as Paul states, starts now. Each day the choice is before us. To begin the dying so that we might begin, now, to live. 'I die every day!'

Why I Will Never be a Ninja Vicar

I have had two acute bouts of Anxiety in my life.  Bouts that required medication which re-established a 'normal' baseline, from which I could then live my life.  I tell you this because Anxiety is less understood as a mental health issue, than Depression. Anxiety by itself is a 'thing'.  During my experiences I never felt depressed.  But I did feel plenty of other things: frustrated (deeply), scared (a lot), hypochondriac-al (constantly).

Often it was difficult for me to get out of bed in the morning.  Sometimes I could be feeling fine, doing normal run-of-the-mill daily things, and then I would suddenly be in the middle of a paralysing panic attack. Every day had potential, but I just seemed to wake up in 'fight or flight' mode.

These acute periods lasted about a year each time.  and I haven't had one of those for almost 10 years now.  Although I still have times where I get out of kilter with myself - I recognise the signs better.  The worst is when I feel I'm hurtling towards a black hole and have very little purchase on the world around me to prevent the descent. Prolonged stressful living is likely to trigger a period of Anxiety, and if I ignore the warning signs, that's where I'm headed.

It would be very easy for me to 'spiritualise' this experience, in fact on one level it is the right thing, the good thing to do.  I spent a good portion of the five minutes before getting up in the morning (not really an option because during one of these acute bouts I had a 1 yr old and a 3 yr old), mantra-ing to myself 'This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it'.  An instruction, a discipline to myself, to choose the good, to choose to believe something contrary to my immediate experience.  I'm sure that for others having their own brand of mental health experience, this wouldn't necessarily have been a choice that was able to be made, but for me it was.

I also believe that the raw vulnerability which comes with some of these experiences, opens us to God in ways which can only become available to us when we have no defence left.

Having these experiences has in a very real way, been profoundly Christian. This is truth.

But there is another truth too. That it hurts.  That every time I feel anxious or panicky... I wish I was stronger. Still, after over 15 years.  There are bits of me that would exchange dependence on God, knowing God better, wholehearted acceptance of my utter reliance on the Creator of the Cosmos, for being invulnerable, strong, safe, defended.


In particular it is difficult to be involved in Christian leadership and be cracked.

I notice that we talk about it all the time - the need to be vulnerable (even without the mental health issues which compel it). But my observation is that we are pretty inept at it, or honouring it.  We want alpha males, we want omnicompetence.

We want clergy special ops. Hi-yah!

Any vulnerability is the kind which is to be epitomised by those 80s posters of muscle men holding babies. The kind that will pull himself together soon.  In that sense occasionally we can give the impression that vulnerability is okay.

But I'm not convinced.




And for the female of the species it's often a complete no-no.  Our vulnerability is distasteful, the kind that means there are some who point and declare we are unfit to lead.

And yet.

I know that my experiences of being vulnerable, vulnerable in the realms of mental health, vulnerable in the realms of a male dominated vocation, vulnerable in the realms of needy creature-hood, are more true than the experiences of the tough cookie I sometimes pretend to be.

My vulnerability is the truth about me.

And this is why, I will never be a Ninja Vicar.

The Garden of Eden vs The New Jerusalem

I am always interested in how our own personal experiences and journeys through life and faith, impact our theologies and doctrines.  When I did my undergrad in Theology, this was an inherent part of the learning that I gained.  It seems to me that this was one of the most significant things that I learnt over that time, and I remain suspicious of those who speak of 'arguments from experience' with disdain or smuggery, as if they have won the argument (whichever argument they are fighting) by simply raising the fact that someone's life and interactions with God's cosmos has had an impact on what they think about that cosmos.

Such important doctrines as our theories of atonement are rooted in the ground of the time from which they came, and the people who lived particular lives, in a particular time. The Exemplar theory, a witness of great love from the Abelard who was castrated for his, Penal Substitution theory from Calvin the lawyer, Satisfaction theory from Anselm's understanding of the feudal system. Simplistic of course, but nevertheless, it is not a coincidence that these theories are rooted in lives lived, and the impact of those lived lives on the way Scripture is read and interpreted.

It strikes me that some of our conversations on sexuality and the proper place for acts/expressions of sexual love might benefit from some honest self-examination of our own lives lived.

In scripture and theology there are often concepts which find themselves in seeming tension with each other - justice/mercy, election/freewill, heaven/earth, body/spirit etc etc.  As human beings are wont to do, we find it difficult to find a way to hold these things together, to live in the both/and, rather than the either/or.  I sometimes wonder if we are incorrect in trying to keep these concepts in tension, rather than finding ways to integrate them in our minds and lives.  That justice is found within the mercy of God for example.

One of these is the 'concepts in tension' is the pairing of The Garden of Eden and The New Jerusalem.  The perfect paradise which we left through disobedience versus the city of God to come.

I have often wondered whether, where you rest at the moment, with regards your position on sexuality, will be reflected in where your heart finds itself with regards to The Garden of Eden or the New Jerusalem.  We know, in theory, that we have left Eden and our trajectory is towards the New Jerusalem, but, particularly in Western theology, we found a way for The New Jerusalem to be the Garden of Eden.  Are we going forwards, or going backwards?

In the West, we have tended to understand the story of salvation as something like this:

The world was made perfect, humans transgressed, Jesus came to redeem, perfection recovered.

Another story, that found through the Eastern Christian tradition, particularly found in Irenaeus, reminds us that the world was not made 'perfect', but that it was made 'good':

Good (waiting for perfection in Christ), humans transgressed, Jesus, restoration of goodness, perfection.

Are we going forwards in order to recover an old way of being, or going forward to discover a new thing?

I have lived for a number of years with an eschatology which looks more like the second of these stories.  And so it is not hard to understand that when it comes to ways of being human community, ways of family, I find myself left cold by arguments that equate themselves, for all their posh language, to the old 'God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve' line of thought.

I do not desire to go back to Eden, but on to the New Jerusalem.  And in the New Jerusalem, there are possibilities, there are stories of family and love and intimacy, which are yet to be told.  I do not know yet what these possibilities are, but I know that they do not necessarily have to conform to the Old Creation.

Depending on where your own proclivities are weighted - do you desire Eden or Jerusalem?  The Garden or the City? The Old Life or the Unknown Life? - I suspect will have an effect on how easy or hard you might find it to engage in genuine conversation about sexuality.  Conversation which may lead to as yet unknown forms of human living, rather than re-establishing the known.

It is interesting for me to question myself, in light of this reflection - what about my life lived has meant that the New Jerusalem is where my own heart is drawn? I suspect a childhood begun in a council flat in Aberdeen, with parents who were steeped in a work ethic, has had an influence I can't measure.  It was never that where we were was awful, I never felt a desire to escape.  However, I did grow up knowing that life was a bit of an adventure, that you could forge a path that was unknown to you or your kin before you.  I learnt that money and housing and clothes and cars were passing nothings, and that love and work and justice would remain.  I learnt that the things of value come with you into the unknown.  I also learnt that moving forward was good. That staying where you were was to turn down the possibilities of flourishing that were open before you.  To take the opportunities offered to you, walk through the door. Be brave.  I have moved house 13 times in my life.  New places, new people, new ways, cultures, thoughts.  All these interest me, intrigue me, cause me to think, to explore, to live life beyond the life I have thus far lived. And I have also learnt that respectability is not the same as goodness.  I also prefer cities to gardens.

The honest truth is that any comments or theologies, or interpretation I may come to offer, on any subject, will always have been formed by these learnings.

My life lived.

Watching and Waiting: Women Bishops, New Job, Pilling, Fulcrum (The Universe and Everything.....?)

It's been a little while since I last posted.  Partly this has been because I've been insanely busy, and now we are at Advent, that is not any less the case, but I have a day off and I also want to update you on my thoughts and news, should you wish to read them.

There have been a couple of important things that have come up for me over the last three months.

Women Bishops legislation - This has been approved for consultation - woohoo - slightly muted optimism as I want to believe that no-one will sabotage the final vote when it comes, but if I'm honest my trust is low on that one, so we shall see.  This is not pessimism, or cynicism, just reality based on the last vote, and the vast majority of encounters I've had with Conservative Evangelicals that have made me sense that they would stop it if they could.  And why would they not - they believe it is an anti-gospel move.  It appears that the Trad Caths are on board and will abstain if not vote in favour.  This seems to be a legislation that they can work with.  So I watch with interest.  There should be a post soon on the Y2WB website unpacking what has been approved, and what the next steps are.  It all gets a bit complicated, and a lot of people are surprised that we could be talking about a final vote in 2014, whereas last year we were saying not until 2015.  This is mainly because the review stage has been agreed to rest with Synod rather than a review committee, and that speeds up the process.  But do take a look at the Y2WB site for updates on that.

Personal news - I'm in the third year of my curacy, and in London Diocese these are a maximum of three years long, so I've had my antennae up for any possible jobs that might be where God is calling me next.  I have been keen to stay in London and in the Willesden Area, where I am now.  I have absolutely adored being in London, the best city in the world, and I've enjoyed working with Bishop Pete Broadbent, who is a straight talker and intentional about including women, so works for me! :) And so it was fantastic news, after prayer and exploration, to be offered the job of Vicar at St Michael and All Angel's in Harrow Weald.  I will begin there after Easter 2014, and I can't wait!  As well as the church being the right place, as a family we feel very invested in Harrow, as that is where I've been for my curacy too, and have a sense that this is where God wants us.  My husband will continue to co-ordinate Harrow Street Pastors and be involved in the community and council work with the homeless that has taken up a good chunk of his time whilst we've been here.

Pilling - And so Pilling has erupted onto our consciousness.  I very much liked Mouse's response to responses on the report :). Mouse is a wisely creature indeed.  Having said that, I would like to tell you about some of my emotional response to the report.  My initial response on reading that we should look at ways of 'marking/blessing' same-sex relationships was that my soul responded 'Yes!' - this is not a logical, thought through response, it was a soul one, and I note it with interest.  I also note the discussions going on around the wording 'mark' or 'bless', but am not sure that's the point - if we 'mark' something in church, I rather doubt it is for the purpose of saying 'look - this is here', it is rather to mark it positively, to somehow celebrate it.

I've often in my conversations indicated that I desire conversation on the subject of same-sex relationships.  Conversations that are open to diversity of opinion on the subject, and certainly that go beyond our positional stances of shouting 'homophobe' or 'heretic' at each other.  I personally think that there must be something more positive to say to gay people other than 'go away you shouldn't exist' or 'be celibate' or 'break up', when they come to my parish asking what God has to say to them about their relationship (especially if there are children involved). Importantly for me, I don't think that the Bible is conclusive.  I am heartened to see David Runcorn as an evangelical engage with this ambiguity in the report.  And the reality is that, whilst I don't think women in ministry/sexuality is exactly the same question, any woman ordained in the Church of England will be VERY careful about taking some verses and using them to exclude/diminish someone else - how many times has that been done to her.... Regardless of whether she is conservative or not on the issue, ordained women I suggest will be rather more wary about certainty on this matter.

When I read God's story with people throughout scripture there are narratives of welcome, hospitality, boundary-crossing, love, soft-hearts, journeying, New Jerusalem, eschatology, complex family relationships, mistakes, legalism, permission to bind/loose, which I think need to be explored - in relation to this subject, but also how we do life with God in general.

So in response to Pilling, I welcome the conversation.  I will watch with interest the facilitated discussions.  In my own ethic I am committed to a Person, Jesus - this means that I am open to an ongoing journey with a rather undefined destination, other than to keep that Person close by.  And for those who wonder how 'evangelical' this is - I am passionately committed to scripture, but the true definition of an evangelical is, I believe, found in the concept of the 'Personal Relationship with Jesus'.  And in that I am unremittingly In Love.

Fulcrum - In light of the above on Pilling, and in long conversation with my friends and colleagues at Fulcrum, it has been with some sadness that I have made the decision to leave the team.  Fulcrum has been incredibly important to me over the last 8 years, and I have been on the team for 6 of those years.  It is fair to say that we have had much laughter, and a few tears together in that time.  I have great affection for the team and our work together.  The subject of sexuality has been one which we have gnawed on over the last little while and whilst there is some room for discussion, Fulcrum, as has always been the case, will be approaching Pilling from the position set out in their statement .  I found that I needed a little more room for manoeuvre in the upcoming conversations that will be happening.  I also, as you know, like to be able to think aloud on my blog, and wanted to have the freedom to do that without undermining what Fulcrum as a group want to be able to say and do.

It is somehow fitting that in Advent we are being called to a time of watching and waiting.

May you be blessed as you do so.

It's Not Me, It's You

Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. ²They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. ³And he said to the man who had the withered hand, ‘Come forward.’ ⁴Then he said to them, ‘Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?’ But they were silent. ⁵He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. ⁶The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.

 I recently found myself engaging with the above text in relation to my experience of Evangelicalism as a tribe, with tribal influence.  When it comes to assumptions made about the experiences, hopes, insights, dreams and beliefs of those of us who self-define as evangelical, I have found this to be a significant problem.

There are particular markers that are assumed non-negotiables of the tribe. That which is considered the culture, ‘the way we do things here’, or ‘what we think’.  The challenging of these markers is deemed to be beyond the pale and creates high risk of ensuring our ejection from this tribe.

Well, I never really got on with the idea that I would sacrifice thinking, questioning, challenging, truth-telling and wrestling with God, in order to be part of a club.

Actually, that’s a teensy weensy lie.

I’m a conformist at heart. Honest.

I was a good girl at school (except when I petitioned the headteacher because they stopped someone taking their exams and I thought it was just to do with league tables), I was excellent when I was a police cadet (although I had to report a police officer for misconduct), I was great at church (until, they started preaching that God hated some)

The thing is – I want to conform.  I really do, it honestly causes me a stupid amount of stress sometimes to do what a number of people seem to assume comes naturally to me. Stick my head above the parapet.  Point out that the emperor doesn’t seem to be wearing any clothes. Rock the boat.

But all through my life, that is what I have seemed incapable of not doing.

Why…why…I ask myself, am I HERE….again.

Why cannot someone else be sticking their head in this particular guillotine shaped hole?

I will be perfectly content to cheerlead from the sidelines.  I love pompoms.

And in actual fact, I like the club!  I don’t want to leave it.  It’s my home and it’s where I have been formed and being chucked out is not to be worn with a shrug of the shoulders and an ‘ah well, I’ll find a new place – here this bus shelter will do…..’

But I don’t half get frustrated with my evangelical siblings.  The strict control of what makes for acceptable discussion, surely makes for a kind of pseudo-community.  Where people tentatively, flicking their eyes at one another, suggest possible questions, but are quickly given the sign that some things are just not up for grabs.  This doesn’t of course mean that those things are not thought about.  It just means that there are a lot of people thinking things on their own in their head and choosing belonging instead.  I cannot think that this is a healthy state of affairs.  But it is understandable – belonging is a serious part of human functioning.  It is not just a nice fluffy feeling that we get with our friends.  It is how our identity is made up – because it is a measure of which relationships form us.  Belonging is high on the agenda of human need and flourishing.

So I do find myself torn sometimes.  I have a strong ‘cause’ streak that runs through me.  I am incapable it seems of choosing to avoid the conflict, if it seems to be that an issue of justice is at stake.  Or simply that ‘It’s Not Fair.’  I believe this is shown up by various ‘Personality’ type tools that I have done. But I could have told you it without them.  I could never cheat at board games as a child.

However, it does often cause me angst to stand where I stand.  And deep frustration.  How can we ever hope to have genuine relationship and understanding of what we think, when it’s at the risk of being sent out to the wilderness?

But the temptation of belonging does pull on me, and sometimes I find myself silent.

And this is where the Jesus encounter above sits in my heart.

If I am ever tempted by belonging over justice, over compassion, over love, then this is the text that jumps into my brain.

‘he was grieved at their hardness of heart’

Sometimes I find myself fearful of not having any tribal home in the CofE – I’m an evangelical, but often that seems under threat.  But I can tell you that the fear of having Jesus look at me and be grieved at my hard heart is whole magnitudes larger than that.

I am more than unwilling to ever stand before Jesus and have him look at me and be angry that I chose to harden my heart rather than risk being wrong for the sake of love.  When I say ‘more than unwilling’, I mean, I would rather risk everything and have a fleshy vulnerable mistaken heart.

Fertile Land

In the argued nights of thoughts

New worlds are born

Twisted, turmoiled

Bloody, hot

Not in the cool corridors

The sterile labs

Disinfectant reeks

Clean, calm

No, not in those places

sanitised life

Birthed by death

Pure, untainted

But in the dirty mud of first creation

Vigorous naivete

Takes its place

Bold, brave

Dizzy Heights and Too Much Noise

[Ed note: Bearing in mind the piranhic frenzy regarding a car bumper sticker this week, I was so tempted to call this post 'What the Fuck Would Jesus Do?', but I went with the above instead.]

A week or so ago I wrote 'Why are Christian Men Not All Raving Feminists?', regarding my observation that there had been a lack of their presence on Twitter regarding the abuse received by Caroline Criado Perez.

This began an interesting conversation with Steve Holmes in the comments section of that post and then he blogged further on his reflections here.

I too have been further musing on our conversation and, mirroring his honesty, want to take you through some of the thoughts and feelings around this issue and blogging about this issue.

It took a bit of courage to blog that piece you see.

I absolutely do not *ever* wish to write a post of the 'poor me' variety, but I do want to say that sometimes it takes rather a lot of courage to write, blog, tweet in a way that is consistently exposing the sexism that is part of the air that we breathe (and most people do inhale...) - see, it's not 'poor me', it's actually 'well done me'.  But the risk is that you may not feel that you can engage with me if I say it too much, because you're nice, and don't want to be mean to the poor feminist.

However, I did want to point it out, because it's part of the dialogue.

Let me start a bit further back....

When I was at college training for ordination here are some of the things that I observed or experienced:

- I raised my hand to ask a question in a lecture and the male student next to me leaned over, dug his hand into my shoulder and said 'just getting rid of that chip'.

- One of the female students asked for more sanitary towel bins on toilets of the block where she was living and was told they weren't in budget.

- Another female student discussed some sexist comments she'd experienced, with a member of staff and was told to accept it as 'banter'.

- I was carrying two teapots to the common room and a male student going past me quipped 'nice jugs' (it's a euphemism for boobies - tee hee...why aren't you laughing...you must have had a SOH failure surely?).

- In our student common room meeting to elect new committee members, the only woman to be elected was welcomed as the 'sex-retary' ('Cos she was the new Secretary of the committee and 'Sec' is a bit like 'Sex' and we all know what secretaries like doing don't we... - gettit? *sigh*)

[Ed note: I have since been contacted by someone who would like me to clarify the following about the above statement: 'A public nomination paper for Secretary of the Student Common Room was graffiti'd to read 'sexretary' - the nominee was a woman'.]

I could go on, but you might think I'm overegging the point.

Of course I have had many more experiences before and since, which make me want to cross my eyes or poke someone else's out..or something.  But the point is that *this* is my baseline people. Do you get it?

In some ways it means I'm very easily pleased - you get above the baseline merely by not being someone who's going to comment on my tits.

So when Steve asks 'Why do you call me good?' - and I really do get his point, it stands alone, as well as part of our conversation - but can I explain that my expectations have been set staggeringly low? It's understandable I think that Steve (and not just Steve, please be assured I've got some fantastic male friends), goes so far above the baseline that we all get a bit dizzy. I'm just so ecstatic when someone - particularly a colleague, ordained as leader/priest - goes beyond the 'get over it' or 'let's just get on with the important stuff/Gospel' and actually appears to understand issues such as privilege and the assault that sexism and misogyny commits on the Gospel.

So I wonder if perhaps he and others of that ilk could bear the understandably heavy load of 'good' just for a little bit?

I know it feels heavy. I'm sorry for that.

And that's where I think Steve really did 'get it' from his blogpost - that the 'getting it', is about understanding the impact it has when Christian men, stand up - all by themselves - and say 'not good enough' or 'keep going'.

You know, when Steve commented on my initial blogpost, I wanted to say 'nooooooo, I didn't mean youuuuuu'.  It was one of my worries about writing a piece like that - that the people who need to hear it least, hear it most.  Or that it will just descend into my being interpreted as a bitter harridan even by those men who are 'supporters' of women. ('Sigh...She's started on us now...')

But the reality is that we need you to 'get it', so I'm glad I wrote it, even with that risk attached.  We need you to 'get' that the tidal wave of negative criticism we get, not just about being women, but about being women who think about what it means to be women, and talk about it out loud, is incessant.

That when someone tells me I 'hate men', I wonder if it's true.

That when someone tells me to 'hush up', I wonder if I should.

It's just so much noise.

I am not ashamed to say that it's music to my ears when someone (a man) says 'no it's not true' and 'no you shouldn't'.

It may even be very good.

Why Are Christian Men Not All Raving Feminists?

Okay, so there have been some great comments and blogs on the situation regarding Caroline Criado Perez and Stella Creasy and the horrendous abuse they received because, essentially, they are women who think they should be treated as human beings and have the damned affront to say so...in public.

Loads of people have picked up the baton to condemn the actions of those who thought it was okay to threaten death and rape, simply because it was on Twitter and not in, you know, 'real life'.

So, I'm not going to write about that, and tell you what you, I hope, already know.  Threatening rape etc = bad = illegal, whether face to face or not.

I joined in with supporting Caroline on Twitter and retweeted stuff to raise awareness of what was going on... and then to encourage her when people started tweeting that she should just calm down a bit and stop retweeting her abuse - people didn't want to keep seeing the reality of what women often have to deal with.  The most disturbing part being that the abuse started off with very 'normal' blokes basically telling her that she was over egging the 'point' - that campaigning for women to be on banknotes and generally to be represented, was a bit...you know...embarrassing...that she was showing herself up a bit for taking it all too seriously...after all what does it *really* matter.

It was surprising, alarming and downright shocking how quickly the comments went from 'Calm down dear' to 'She needs to loosen up' to 'She just needs a good screw' to 'I'm coming to rape you.'

But, okay, here's something that I began to wonder.  And it is a bit uncomfortable to voice it.  I began to
wonder where the Christian men were?

I had a bunch of Christian women, feminist people commenting - my Twitter feed was full of it.  But, I had no idea what my brothers in Christ thought about this - relatively speaking, of course there were some, but you take the point.

And so I wondered if they felt a bit lost in it all? Perhaps they didn't think it was anything to do with them? I wondered if a lot of you felt 'what am I meant to think?'. It's not that you don't think abuse is wrong or anything, but how does this fit in to the whole picture of proclaiming the Christian faith?  How does it affect your day to day lives?  What should you do about it?  How are you meant to interpret this kind of sexism, in the life of Christians together, men and women?

I'm not entirely sure what the problem is, so I would really like to hear what 'the men' think.  But I've got a few ideas what might be feeding into this relative silence.

• We've had a year of talking about sexism in the Church, particularly in regard to whether women can lead or not. We've spent a lot of time finding ways of saying that those who don't think women should lead/be bishops *aren't* sexist, and so we're not even sure what it is anymore. I think we've lost the vocabulary.  What's sexist?  What's not sexist?  Is sexism bad?  Really bad...or just, like, whether you're a cat person or a dog person?  It's okay either way, but as long as you don't kick the other one.

• There is a lingering idea that this is 'an issue for the girls' - that sexism is something against women, rather than a fundamental affront to the doctrine of humanity being made in the Image of God and therefore at the heart of what it means for everyone, men and women to be faithful Christian disciples. Fighting it therefore can feel more about standing alongside Sisters in Christ ('this is awful for you'), rather than a gospel issue ('this is at the heart of God's purposes for humanity'), both good things, but the latter would likely command more significance in our minds and therefore on time and energy.

• I also have heard that sometimes when men have tried to get involved in this issue that they have felt unappreciated, or dismissed. I think that this issue is one that it would be good to explore further.  It is however, the most difficult to talk about.  I think that often men would like to 'help' - and therein we have an issue I guess.  Women working for equality have much experience in the field of gender.  You may have noticed that there was a backlash when those experiencing abuse on twitter were told (often by men), to ignore the abuse.  Women are not likely to react well to this.  Working together on this issue is to be absolutely in partnership - and in fact, women working in this field may have some expertise to impart themselves.  There is further work to be done on how men become involved, particularly Christian men, who are used to a particular paradigm of relationships (ie. one in which they are reacted to in a particular way because they are male).  We need to find ways to help each other to work together in a new paradigm - one of equality and where the privileged status of the 'male' is no longer the norm, or is at least articulated wisely, so that we can work through it.  This is why this is quite tricky to raise as an issue - it cuts to the heart of our own prejudices.  So men can feel the brunt of not being treated in a 'privileged' way - a way they assumed was 'normal' and they interpret that as being dismissed (welcome to our world guys), and women can feel pissed off that men are expecting the same privileged treatment in a feminist space (ie a space where they assume at least some knowledge of gender dynamics) and get impatient.

So these are some observations and thoughts. Not comfortable for us to talk about and I am of course concerned that Christian men will think I'm having a go at them.  I'm not and I thought raising the issue was worth the risk.  Because I want you with me. So let's talk.

Being Me

If I were a quiet mouse

I'd thank you God for letting me squeak

If I were a teeny tiny frog

I'd thank you God for making me leap

If I were a star up in the sky

I'd twinkle and sparkle and dance way up high

But I just thank you God for making me, me

For you gave me a mouth and you gave me a mind

You said don't waste your gift and speak as you find

So I just thank you God for making me, me

If I were a graceful horse

I'd thank you God for letting me run

If I were a dolphin in the sea

I'd thank you God for all the jumpy fun

If I were an eagle flying fast

I'd soar and dive and I'd make the freedom last

But I just thank you God for making me, me

For you made me a leader and you made me a girl

You made me a woman and said go and change the world

So I thank you God for making me, me

Fleshy Hearts and Tissue Paper Skin

Thanks to everyone who looked at, voted, commented on the poll that I created to ask the question of what we're thinking on same-sex relationships.

You can find the results here: http://poll.pollcode.com/oqjjd_result?v

Of course a poll is just a poll.  We cannot draw evidenced conclusions about exactly what everyone thinks in depth on the issue.

And of course that was never the point.

So what was the point?

Simply this - to find out if there was a conversation to be had within my own constituency.

And it seems there is.

We need to have a serious reality check here. For those of us in the evangelical wing we are so good at keeping quiet for fear of being disowned.

This is understandable.  I've been there and continue to feel the pull of belonging.  But in the end, be under no illusion, belonging at the expense of your integrity, it is death to the soul.

Let me be clear, I don't have a worked out theology or ethic on sexuality.  What I do know is that I do not want to be part of anything where the conversations, the questions, the doubts, the compassion, the mistakes, life stripped bare, squashy fleshy hearts and tissue paper thin skin are considered things to be ignored or defeated or that somehow they have nothing to do with theology or ethics.

So here's the deal.  There's a conversation to be had.  Let's have it.

Remember the Phoenix

[Note: having received all kinds of responses about this post, negative, positive and everything in between, I need to clarify a couple of things. Firstly, what I have written is a reflection on the *responses* to this event. Those who have pointed out that we don't know what has happened, are correct, we don't.  Secondly, the point of what I write is that our responses happen regardless, which is evident.  I say below that whatever ordained women 'do', they do as women, even if something is not explicitly about gender because that is the primary way we are interpreted.  We are perceived as *women* priests and it is nonsense to pretend otherwise.  Our responses are based on this perception.  Lastly, the 'She' I write about below is the symbolic ordained woman.]


Most of you will have seen the news that Janet Henderson has resigned her post as the Dean of Llandaff Cathedral due to, as a source has said a 'difficult time since her appointment, with some clergy resenting the appointment of a woman.'

What a gut-punch.

I've heard all kinds of responses on Twitter and Facebook.

Most have been sad and outraged.

Some have likened it to Philip North resigning as Bishop of Whitby.  Now, lots of people won't like what I'm about to type.  Personally, I thought Philip North was courageous for withdrawing from this post, and I admit that I felt rather sad about it all - what have we got ourselves into, I thought.  I don't know how the circle will be squared on this one, and in many senses it would be much easier if I could generate hate and spite for the lot of them - but I can't and I won't.

To fall into cliche...some of my good friends are Forward in Faith (Anglo Catholics who don't think we should ordain women).  In fact one man in particular *always* comes into my mind when I begin to think of people leaving the CofE...because of me.  He's kind and gentle and encouraging, he affirms me and yes, my priesthood, and he loves loves loves Jesus (and Mary ;) ).  I honestly don't know how he does it and stays integrated with his own beliefs about women in the priesthood - I'm not sure that he does, I think it's painful.

So, don't ever tell me that I just want 'them' to leave.

But to compare Philip North's story to that of Janet Henderson is simply offensive.  And here's the bit that people won't like...it is one thing to be the object of hate, spite and derision (we can only imagine the experiences that caused a capable, experienced priest to have to leave), and it is quite another to be told, as Philip North was, that the people who are your objects of exclusion, are not considered such by others - and to hold those people as objects of exclusion is not considered acceptable any more.

It is very different for a woman to say 'I can't stay because I'm a woman', and a man to say 'I can't stay because you're a woman'.  The object remains as the woman - she bears her shame and she bears his distaste. She bears it.

Just to be clear, this is what ordained women in the CofE, and clearly in the CinW, have to live with.  It is in their psyche, their DNA as ordained people.  When we are in a deanery chapter, a synod, a diocese, a meeting - these are the dynamics at play, whether they are overt or not.  This is not to bleat on about it - I know that it's uncomfortable and people want to dismiss it or pretend it's not that bad or say they don't feel it's like that for them.  Yes, I know.  I'm in one of the best Areas of London Diocese, London being not considered 'women friendly'.  My Bishop is out and proud about his affirmation of the ordination and consecration of women, I don't experience overt sexism on a daily basis.  I'm very grateful and love my job.  So I know that some of you hate it when I bring up the fact that we can't really escape the effects of choosing to be in an institution that is ambivalent about us.  An institution where we are the objects of our own and others opinions of us.  I know you don't like me to say that there is only so much of that which can remain external.  Because we're meant to be strong and let it wash off us, right?  But this is the pool that we swim in, and we can't help but drink the water.

So, no, it's not the same thing as Philip North.

Some have said 'she should have stuck it out'.

Ah, now, this is tricky isn't it?  Part of my response to this story was entirely selfish, I don't mind admitting.  Every time a woman soars in the church, becomes who she is meant to be, which includes leading in senior positions - where her capability, her priesthood, her experience, her wisdom is honoured and nourished...every time I see that happen, I can breathe again. Phew...it's possible.  If it's possible for them, then it's possible for me.  I spend a lot of my time in various spaces choosing to be more than I can imagine I can be - I suggest you all do the same - but sometimes I hit a wall.  I run out of imagination.  I know that I need to step into God's imagination, God's understanding of what my potential really is, but sometimes I can't.

And then a story like this hits the headlines, or I hear about another woman who can't find a job, or I get rebuffed from speaking at places where my face doesn't fit, or I see conference after conference where the overwhelming majority of speakers are blokes, or I see women defending their territory because it's so small and that's what they've had to do...for years.  God have mercy.

And it's like a perfect storm.

Sometimes I crash.

So, even though I disagree (who can make that choice for someone else?) I understand the sentiment - 'she should have stuck it out'

She should have stuck it out - so that we can hope.

She should have stuck it out - so that the bullies don't win

She should have stuck it out - so that she can be our symbol

She should have stuck it out - so that the path is forged

And once again *she* is the object.  She bears it.  Our hopes, our desires.  She bears it.

Phoenix

Women in the church at the moment will carry all of this.  We do not simply do the job, we do the job as a woman (I know you don't want it to be so, but it is so).  In front of eyes that hope for us, because we carry their dreams, or in front of eyes that wait for us to fall, because we bear their fears.  It is inevitable at this moment in time.

And sometimes the story is not all 'triumph in the face of adversity', sometimes people die.

But.

Deep breath.

Remember the Phoenix.

A symbol of resurrection, beautiful and bright, burned and born out of the ashes of her demise.

In mythology, the Phoenix has tears which heal and the strength to bear loads way beyond her size.

So remember the Phoenix.  She bears it.