First

Dear First,

I've debated this letter for quite some time now (just about an entire year, in fact).  I don't want to be one of those people who writes slanderous messages on the internet in some pathetic attempt to gain sympathy and feelings of vindication.  I do, however, want to be honest and quite frankly, see no point in having a blog if every "letter" I write is censored for potentially offensive or controversial material (is this sounding familiar?).  That being said, as I lay awake in bed unable to sleep tonight, the whole situation between you and I was playing in my mind on repeat.  I was having one of those days where I couldn't stop thinking about it.  And then I realized two things: 1.) it has been almost exactly one year to the day when I made the decision to resign and 2.) it's like a really, really bad breakup - and I don't have closure.

So, in light of my one year anniversary of the best, hardest, most-emotionally-charged decision I've ever made, I thought a letter might do us both some good.  (Who am I kidding?? This is mostly about me, not you.  But, if you feel so inclined to respond, I am definitely open to dialog.)  See, recently I've had moments where I wished that I had been in a place (emotionally or spiritually) where I could have been honest about the circumstances of my leaving, instead of pretending like everything was fine and that I wasn't deeply wounded by my church family while experiencing the most enormous crisis of my young, newly-out-of-college, newly-married, newly-moved-to-a-different-state life. As soon as these regretful thoughts creep in though, I am reminded of the bigger picture of things: that it was best for you - the church (as in, the specific congregation I am writing to) - that my leaving be the least dramatic as possible.  And, as we both well know, us Christians like to make things unnecessarily dramatic.  So, in some ways, I am glad that I was able to suck it up and put a smile on my face for two weeks while I "transitioned out" and attempted to feign sadness when sharing the news that I was leaving. The reality is, I wasn't sad.  I wasn't even mad.  I was utterly, emotionally numb.

I think it was best for you that things went as they did so there was minimal gossip and dissension among the congregation, and it was best for me because I, quite frankly, was an emotional zombie who was counting down the minutes until I could leave for the sake of my very survival.

Do I sounds dramatic?

I think so too.

But, as this very crisis that I reference proves; life is dramatic.  More than I ever thought it would be.

That being said, it has been a year-long process of working through hurt, anger, fear, and forgiveness and fighting the very attractive urge to be bitter.  In "higher" moments, so to speak, when I have a more eternal perspective and there's more Jesus and less Julie, I am really just overwhelmed with sadness.  Not for myself, but for us - the Church, that is (the capital "c", the entire group of us on this planet who are honestly and imperfectly following this God-in-human fellow named Jesus).  I'm sad because of all people to have supported me and encouraged me and allowed me to be honest and vulnerable, it should have been you. I'm sad because I know I'm not the only one who's felt forced to walk into a church building, slap on a smile, and keep it together for an hour and a half.  I'm sad because when I share these events with others, more than a few respond with an eye-roll and a sarcastic, "Christians really know how to shoot the wounded".  Really?  Is this who you really are??  Is this what you really want to communicate to people who are desperate for genuine human connection and true purpose in life???  Is this really your interpretation of following the Creator of the universe??

Please.say.it's.not.

Again, in higher moments, I'm able to say, "I was just an unfortunate and unintended casualty."  "You didn't mean it."  "It was so awkward, how were you supposed to respond?"

But,

Is that really good enough?? What about others?  I mean, if my personal pain and tragedy were overlooked, who's else are you missing?  Who's else have you already forgotten?  I (barely) made it out okay.  God graciously provided me with a solid foundation of knowledge of Him and a few caring people around me to carry me through.  But not everyone is as fortunate as I was.  It makes me sick to think about the people that we (the capital "c" Church) turn our backs on everyday: people who are different than us; people who's problems are too big or too uncomfortable; people who don't help themselves (because, of course, God helps those who help themselves ... and no one else?), people who take up "too much" time or "too much" emotional energy.  What about these people?  Where did they go when they went fleeing, dejected and wounded?

Ugh.  I didn't intend for this letter to be an exposé on Shortcomings in the American Church, but alas.  Yes, I'm hurt.  Yes, I was wounded. And yes, I'll be fine.  But I fear for those who aren't as fortunate as I.  And, if I'm really honest with myself, some of these pangs are not actually pangs of bitterness or resentment, they might actually be pangs of guilt - for times when I've done a pretty good job of shooting some wounded myself.

Lordhavemercy.

Julie


 

Dear 2011

Dear 2011,

Greetings!  I can't believe you're here already.  Since I'm a sucker for milestones and goals, you can well imagine that I'm quite excited to share with you my resolutions:

- Let people off the hook. I'm an idealist: things are either right or wrong and therefore people are either good (those who do "right" things) or bad (those who do "wrong" things)..... Enter into the gray area of relationships, human condition, sinfulness and selfishness, and divine redemption and this logic gets a little more complicated. This resolution could be subtitled "have more grace for people (and myself)".

- Don't buy clothes. Ah! I said it!  This is going to be hard, but I'm putting it in writing for the entire world to see (or at least my 8 followers) for accountability.  This is mostly motivated by finances, but also a desire to be free: I don't want material things to have a hold on me, nor do I want my physical appearance to.  I also desire a simpler life, and as much as I don't always believe it - I think I am more content with the less "stuff" there is is my life. Oh, and did I mention that I don't actually need anymore clothes anyway?

- Play piano. I would like to be better at the end of 2011 than I am now. And we have a beautiful one in our home.

- Run a half marathon or a 10 Mile.  It's been over 3 years since I ran a marathon, and the itch has returned.  Besides, the Twin Cities half marathon is in October - the best time for a race, because you have the warm weather of spring and summer in which to train!

- Blog more.  Besides the typical reasons for slacking in blog posts ("I don't have time," "who reads it anyway?"), I've realized the biggest reason I don't write as many letters is because of my perception of what others will think and my fear of offending.  I actually have a lot of ideas* of recipients for these letters - multiple ideas a day, actually, but I often weed them out before I ever hit "PUBLISH" for fear of what others will think.  I'm sick of this, quite frankly, and am somewhat surprised by this people-pleasing hangup I've developed considering some of the people I respect the most aren't those with whom necessarily I agree, but those who have the courage to speak their minds - Jeannette Walls, Rev. Gregory Boyle, Joan Baez, Janet McDonald, MLK, Fr. Richard Rohr, to name a few (perhaps future letter recipients??). So, readers beware, the potential for offense from this blog has increased, but it will be well worth it - if only for me. 

- Pray more.  I almost didn't add this one because it might be the hardest one for me to follow through on. And the thought of inconsistancy in this area is discouraging. But, in the spirit of letting myself off the hook (see resolution #1) and knowing how desparately I need time with my Heavenly Father, I'm adding it with the confidence that He is faithful and wants this more than I do.

So, dear 2011, I pray that a year from now, I will look back upon you, in much the same way that I looked back on 2010 and was filled with thankfulness for where I was and who was with me - and couldn't see anything but God's faithfulness.  

Cheers!
Julie

*I will readily admit that some of these ideas aren't necessarily post-worthy anyway ("Dear Fathead who cut me off at Lake and 22nd, Here's the number for an excellent driving school... Sincerely, Excessively Honking Lady Behind You).  I'll continue to evaluate letters before posting.