Our Church

My church, our church, has been and still is a touch stone for Marty and me.  It has been an integral part of our life for a long time and my hope is that it will always be a sanctuary for us.

It is a an ever present part of my memory, seeing my daughter sing, seeing my son lead, seeing them both preach Senior sermons, teaching Sunday School, watching Marty sing, sitting behind the youth of church and occasionally shushing their whispers.  Our church, in spite of our, let’s call it spotty attendance of late, is foundational for Marty and for me.

I remember sitting in church one Sunday, as low in spirit as I could have been, I was sitting beside Marty; the night before we had talked about not being married anymore.  Sitting in that church that day, my head, my heart  was in turmoil, sitting with Marty on my right and my children in front of me with the night before still churning my gut I thought, I can’t ever be with anyone but this woman to my right.  

Being in that church that day helped save our marriage.  Months later Marty and I stood at the front of our church with Jimmie and repeated vows of love and re-commitment, in our church.

Years later I sat by Marty in that church on a rainy Christmas day.  I sat as our pastor leaned down and wrapped his arms around Marty.  I listened and was moved as they took turns delivering the charge to the small gathering, repeating the words, “have faith, hold on to what is good”, one after the other.  I saw the smile of our God that day, smiling as the strong encircled the weak that day, in that church.

This church, the people in this church, this enclave in the city of Waco has been there for us during our best times and has been a shelter and a buttress against ill winds for us in our worst times.  I worry for my church.

You see, we are Presbyterians and there has been upheaval in our denomination over the last several years, in particular regarding sexual orientation.  We are a connectional church and all of us belong to the Presbyterian Church of the USA.  We are governed by a Book of Order developed and changed by our General Assembly, a bi-annual meeting where delegates from all across the United States meet to recommend what belongs and what doesn’t belong in our Book of Order and our Book of Confessions.

In June of 2014 the GA voted to revise the definition of marriage to include same sex marriages where allowed by law.  It has roiled our church and many congregations have voted to leave our denomination.  It hurts to see, it hurts to watch, it feels like once again there are people saying to others, within my own denomination, you are no longer Christian enough for us.

I worry that this controversy, this almost secular battle of liberal versus conservative thought will visit my church.  I worry that there will be people in my own church that will be so hurt, so angry over some of these decisions they will want to leave or worse they will want my church to divorce my denomination, they will want to take my church away.

I understand their concern; I understand the strong feelings that are involved. I don’t understand the need to separate, the need to look another in the eye and say I can no longer worship with you because I don’t agree with you.  We worshiped together yesterday, we disagreed yesterday, why can’t we worship together tomorrow even though we disagree over some issues?

Years ago Marty and I sat in our church and contemplated moving away from each other.  We had significant disagreements, we were at logger heads, we were, at times, emotionally hurting each other.  That Sunday at that church we decided we must work through our pain and hurt and disagreements and stand strong for each other.  That’s what we did.

I know that some in our church feel the same way I did that day in our church, not sure if love and faith can bridge the gap in our relationship.  I recognize the very real concerns many have about some changes in our denomination.  Those concerns are based in real faith, so are mine.

 When those Commissioners at General Assembly met and voted on the issues hurting your heart I believe they were doing what they felt God led them to do.  When those votes were taken it was not a matter of doing the will of the people but seeking discernment to do the will of God.

I accept that there are those who can’t accept, I can’t accept that leaving is the answer, I can’t accept that we must divorce.  If you believe, then fight, then work, then change minds, change hearts, make a difference in a way that says I won’t give up but I too will seek God’s direction and I will make right what I see as wrong.  

My sanctuary, more than any other place I have ever been, has always been a place where differences in race, circumstances and politics did not matter.  My sanctuary has always been a place of refuge, a place that has fit me and my family as a soft glove, a place that is tender, accepting and inclusive. 

 

Don’t take that away, Marty and I are blessed to have this church and all of the people that are a part of it.  Stay and disagree with me, we can do that and still sing together.

Doubting

I am plagued by doubt.  It runs through me like a current of electricity coming out of me expressed in anxiety and an occasional angry outburst.  I wonder too often, am I doing it right, am I doing enough, am I good enough to be doing what I am doing?

Marty no longer doubts, at least on the surface.  She really truly believes I will never let her fall.  When I reach down under her arms, pull back and pull her to standing she never doubts, she never worries that I will let her fall.  Me, I have no doubt about the physical brute force part of the move but there is always a tinge of doubt, can I keep my balance.

Doubt, for me, is not a new thing; there has always been that voice in the back of my mind whispering, “Are you good enough?”  Let’s be real, you hear it too.  It’s almost an American past time.

As I grew up a Presbyterian in an Aggie household in west Texas that doubt was there.  Was I a good enough student, was I a good enough athlete in our small town, was I a good enough person, and was I a good enough Christian.  

It took years for me to come to grips with that last one.  There are way too many people who want to convince us we are somehow not good enough, not strong enough, not Christian enough, but that’s a whole other story.  Suffice it to say, I still carry doubts, I still wonder, am I good enough?

Marty, pre-stroke, despite her bravado and her confidence in her wit and wisdom experienced the same self doubt.  She, like many of us, like most of us I think, struggled with the I’m not good enough, I can’t measure up, disease.  We do it to each other, we do it to ourselves, and at times we unintentionally do it to our own people.  Being good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, Christian enough, American enough is a national struggle.

Marty would never let me doubt myself too much or too long.  She could be a harsh critic and I know in her heart of hearts at times in our life she wondered about my grit and my ability to stand in there.  But, ultimately, she never let my doubt of myself stay for long.  She had faith in my ability to work, to provide, to be a husband and to be a father.  Marty had more faith in me than I did.

Today, she still does.  Marty believes in me, she has faith that I will be good enough to care for her, that I will be strong enough to lift her and hold her safely, that I will be faithful enough to stay by her side, that I will be smart enough and persistent enough to make sure she is getting right and timely care.  Once again, Marty has more faith in me, more of a belief that I am good enough, than I often do.

I am plagued with doubt about many things.  I don’t know if my faith will sustain, I don’t know if I’m smart enough or aware enough to always catch the next minor medical problem before it becomes a major medical problem, there are days when I don’t know if I’m good enough.

But, what I know, without a doubt, without any hesitancy, is that I love Marty enough that I will always be there for her and when I lift her up, when I hold her, when I stand with her, I will never ever let her fall.  

This I know.

Shared Experiences Alone

I’m learning.  I’m normally a quick study, not so much about this.  I find that doing some things alone or doing some of things Marty and I did together is a hard enough task for me that, too often, I choose not to do them.

Doing some familiar things solo is okay and I do them, mostly I manage to manage my angst and get out and participate in life.  I have to confess that whole managing thing is exhausting and it often keeps me at home.  For me, this is part of the reason care giving is an isolating experience.  

The feeling of isolation is not just the actual care giving, being at home taking care of someone who is mostly home bound.  Often it’s dealing with experiences you used to have with your partner and feeling a bit lost without said partner.  You miss that familiarity.

I have been to movies by myself and I don’t particularly like it.  Beyond the fact that it feels really weird to sit all by myself in a huge theater I miss sharing the experience, I miss talking about what I have just seen with someone.  Talking about the film makes the entire experience better. 

In spite of the fact that Marty was a fidgety movie watcher and she had to get up at least once during the movie I really loved going to see them with her.  She almost always had an interesting perspective on what we had just seen.  I’m not saying her perspective always made sense to me, but believe me, she always had thoughts.  

I made one trip to Las Vegas alone.  That was okay but I’m not sure I’m comfortable being in my own head that much.  I like having company, I like having that presence of another warm beating heart.  Besides, when I was there alone, I had too much time to process and everything I saw reminded me of being out there with Marty and it really hammered home both the loneliness and loss.  I don’t want to do that again.

It’s the church and church stuff that is the real bugaboo.  I miss our church, I miss being at our church with Marty.  I didn’t understand how much of my faith and spirituality was and is wrapped up with my relationship with Marty.

Marty and I matured together in many ways.  We helped each other in our faith journey.  We talked politics, we talked kids, we talked psychology, and we talked religion, a lot.  We helped each other explore our spirituality, we helped each other with our own beliefs and we allowed each other to doubt and offered a safe zone to experience that doubt.  We walked a faith journey together.

It was a revelation to me to figure out how important Marty was to my faith and to my participation in our church.  I always thought I was the one that drove our participation; I always thought I was the one that pushed the church thing.  It turns out we were taking turns driving the participation, she was right there beside me on that journey and going to church without Marty is a real test for me.

I don’t walk into First Presbyterian Church in Waco without thinking of Marty.  I don’t go to any church service without thinking of Marty.  I have very few discussions with anyone about church or faith when I don’t either reference Marty or think back to how she has helped shape how I think on these matters.  Being in our church without Marty is ….. well, can you be lonely in a crowded room?

Don’t misunderstand, I love my church, I love the people in my church.  I am comfortable with where I am in my faith journey and it has taken Marty and many others to get me to this point.  It has not always been easy and I have minute to minute struggles with doubt, but ultimately, I am secure with what I believe because Marty has walked beside me so much of the way.

There are places, sights, sounds and smells that you so strongly associate with others that it seems strange to experience those places, sights, sounds and smells without them.  Those people have been so much a part of you it seems wrong to have those experiences without them.

It’s my journey, it’s my struggle, it’s only me that can deal with my crazy.  It helps to name the craziness; it helps to say out loud that some of those experiences hurt without Marty.  It makes no sense to avoid them all together, that’s not what Marty wants me to do.  

It just takes a step.

Starting a New Journey

The journey to acceptance of difference starts with simple presence, it starts with familiarity, it starts with understanding.  Marty and I started that process with young people who matter to us.

I taught Sunday school for several years.  From the time our son Matt was in high school until daughter Erin graduated I taught their Sunday school classes.  It was the best way to ensure that the three of us got up and went to church, it seemed right.

In those years of teaching I rarely went long without being taught, without learning more about my own faith than I could ever impart to 15 year olds who mostly came for the donuts.

It’s still the same, the more I think I know, the more I want to educate, the more I find out from those around me.  

After Marty and I had met with the youth of our church I walked out of the church refreshed, optimistic and feeling renewed.  Marty had risen above her natural self consciousness and apprehension and had listened and talked.  She was involved, funny and, well, Marty, confined yet not defined by her circumstance.  

  

Those kids listened, they turned their young minds to us, they paid attention, and more importantly they moved beyond the tendency of focusing on self.  They focused on Marty and her life and I think they got to know her just a little; they got to know Marty as I know her.

I don’t know if they heard everything I was saying, it doesn’t matter if they heard everything, they clearly heard some things and they were attentive to Marty and maybe, just a little, tried to get into her head and her life.

We talked about Marty; we talked about our life, our old normal, our new normal, our faith, and our lack thereof, or more precisely, my lack thereof.   Marty has never wavered in her faith in a higher power, in fact, her faith has only gotten stronger.  She was always stronger than me.

I pointed out to these young minds how they are connected to Marty and how Marty is forever connected to our church, the people in the church and in particular the young people in our church.  I told them about Marty’s work with the youth program and how the program was stronger and how Marty was stronger for her efforts.  

I talked about Marty and how serious she took her commitments and that one of those commitments was to our children and the children our church.  I talked about how important the baptismal promise was to Marty, that when she committed to helping them with their faith at their baptism, she meant it and that was part of why she was committed to the youth that came before them and why, even interrupted, she was committed to the young people who were in the room with her that night. 

They listened politely with very few yawns and no cell phones, they listened.  They asked questions, they asked good questions, they asked questions about feelings and faith, they asked questions about doubt and anger, they asked questions about simple living and dealing with fear and dying.  They were good questions that they directed not just at me but at Marty…..and of course Marty rose to the occasion and answered.

At the end they all wrote affirmations, small notes on small cards for Marty, for me, small words of encouragement and wisdom from those so young.  It’s a ritual of our youth program and other youth programs that you leave these meetings with words of faith, love and encouragement.  I’ve felt the love of young people before, it’s still there, it’s still powerful, it still means a lot.

The affirmations expressed kindness, empathy and a very simple wisdom, an understanding of what makes a whole person.  One was a drawing, a simple drawing that very neatly captured what we all want to believe about ourselves.  

We started our journey with these young fertile minds that Sunday evening.  Any journey starts with steps, this one started with being in each other’s presence and listening and talking and learning. 

 

I am moved by the openness, I am a captive of the compassion of those so young.  It is encouraging for our life.