Category: Uncategorized

A huge thanks to Alise Wright for today’s guest post. She’s a self-proclaimed lover of coffee, texting, and Zelda. You can find her blog at http://www.alise-write.com/, or follow her on Twitter: @BigMama247. Enjoy!

Blank page, blinking cursor.

That’s what writing looks like for me on most days.

In the past, it was a ratty spiral bound notebook, a pretty, flowery journal, a green composition notebook, the back of music theory homework. Anything I could find to get my thoughts down. It didn’t matter if it was private or public, I’ve just always enjoyed writing. I believe that writing has played a part in shaping me into the person that I am today.

When I write and write honestly, I get the bad stuff out. Maybe that’s not the most attractive thing in the world, but I find writing to be therapeutic. When I bury what’s going on in my brain, I end up turning it over and over and that creates a not-very-pleasant person to be around. But when I write it out, I find that it cleanses me in a way that no other method does. Talking through difficult issues can help, but writing it down gives me the perspective that I need.

What is really fascinating to me is that when I write this bad stuff out, it gives permission for others to share some of their difficulties. That helps me to step outside of myself for a little bit and consider others. I’m naturally a very selfish person and writing can certainly feed that, but on good days, it causes me to look beyond my own issues and care more deeply for the people around me, both in my face to face interactions and with those in my virtual village.

I have also found that writing has helped me connect with people that I may not have had the opportunity to otherwise. I’ve met people who are like me, people who are different from me, and these interactions have all pointed to show me that I’m not alone – that no one is alone. Writing is a fascinating paradox. I do most of it for me, but it gains so much more meaning when there is a community of readers. Any time I have the opportunity to connect with other people through my writing, it makes me a better person.

Writing has taught me to choose my words more carefully. When I’m talking, I have the benefit of body language, tone, inflection, physical contact, and real-time clarification. When I write, I have one chance to get it right. I can always go back and edit and I can certainly carry on a dialogue once the piece is out there, but as we all know, once something is written, it has an element of permanence. This means that I need to be thoughtful when I’m writing. As I have done this, I have found that it carries over into my regular conversations. Writing has helped me become a more effective verbal communicator.

The only way I can truly gauge if I’m becoming a better person is through interactions with other people. I find that writing helps me to engage with more people and that in turn helps me become a better version of me.

And now, the blank page and blinking cursor beckon.

Recently, at 8 Weeks in the Red, we’ve been trying some alternatives to church as usual.

This week, we spent about fifteen minutes meditating silently on a portion of Psalm 143:

I remembered the old days, went over all you’ve done, pondered the ways you’ve worked,  Stretched out my hands to you, as thirsty for you as a desert thirsty for rain.  Hurry with your answer, God! I’m nearly at the end of my rope. Don’t turn away; don’t ignore me! That would be certain death.  If you wake me each morning with the sound of your loving voice, I’ll go to sleep each night trusting in you. Point out the road I must travel; I’m all ears, all eyes before you.

We sat there quietly, eyes closed, hands in a fist in front of us. In my tightly squeezed hand was something I knew I needed to give up. And as the verse was read to us again, we all opened our hands.

Release.

* * * * *

We took some time to hear from one of the men in the group. He shared his experience of hitting midlife and realizing there were areas of pain he had never adequately worked through. In fact, when these pains surfaced at different times in his life, he managed to go around, and never through.

“Healing,” he said, “requires going through the pain. Not around it.”

I listened to him, thought about how many times in my own life that I had dug a nice hole in the dirt and buried my pain, my questions, my doubt.

* * * * *

Robert had posted on our Facebook page that week:

What is unique about the Christian God and emotional pain is that the pain has somewhere to go – not just out to a person, or a group, good as that is, but into the cross, into the Christ of the cross. The Gospel makes a provision for the processing of emotional pain through a suffering savior – When you see Jesus dying on the cross to receive your pain you realize that your pain has a destination – it has a place to go, does not need to be held on to because there is someone who knows what it is, what it feels like, and suffered the ultimate pain of the cross so that we can experience freedom.

I thought this was an interesting take on Christianity.

And it made me wonder some things:

What were your “old days” like? What road lies before you? What do you need to release in order to move forward?

Christian or not, what practices have you found helpful for processing emotional pain and finding healing? Maybe by sharing your process you can help someone else who is reading the blog today.

About once a month Bryan Allain and I grab breakfast at this little restaurant called Country Gardens. Bryan generally orders something healthy (which I often predict, correctly, on Twitter), while I tend to stick with the artery-blocking, stint-inducing options such as creamed dried beef on toast or eggs and scrapple.

It’s always fun, catching up with another writer, stealing his ideas, talking through some of my own challenges. Something Bryan said this morning grabbed my attention.

Who are you burdened for?

In other words, what specific types of people do you feel directed to pour your life into?

Many people become teachers because they feel burdened for kids. Many people become marriage counselors because they feel burdened for couples going through rough times. Many people become circus clowns because they want to scare little children.

I’m starting to realize that I have a burden for people who have a story but can’t tell it themselves.

Maybe, just maybe, if you have trouble finding purpose in life, it’s because you’re not taking time to help the people for whom you feel the greatest burden.

Who are you burdened for? What are you doing to help lighten their load?

Perhaps you’ve seen one of my 2 million tweets in the last few days. Or my 700 Facebook statuses (statii?). But just in case you missed it, here’s something you won’t want to miss:

The First (Annual?) Benefit Poker Tournament in Gap, PA.

Yes, I’m talking about bringing Texas Hold ‘Em to the bastion of Anabaptism that is Central PA.

Yes, we’re playing on a Sunday afternoon.

Yes, there are cash prizes involved.

If the combination of those three doesn’t smash every paradigm there is of Amish Country, well, I don’t know what it would take. But the thing is, it’s for a great cause. My sister and brother-in-law are adopting an Ethiopian child any day. They’ve gone through the process, been approved, and are now waiting for the phone call introducing them to their new baby.

But as well all know, adoption isn’t an inexpensive process. So all buy-in and concession money raised at our poker tournament will go directly toward their adoption costs. The prize money ($500 for first, plus other prizes) is all being raised from separate donors.

To check out the details for the tournament, and to RSVP, click HERE.

To check out my sister’s blog, click HERE.

If you have a spare minute, do me a favor: I won’t have access to the internet all day (ie, I won’t be able to pester you today with innumerable tweets and status updates of this blog post), so please share this post if you can.

Have a great weekend!

I don’t like paying bills, mostly because it makes me feel like I’m running out of money.

Sometimes, when I compare myself to others, I wonder, Do I have the right contacts? Do I know the right people?

More than a few times I week I sit down in front of the keyboard and doubt my ability to accomplish the task at hand.

Fighting a mindset of lack is something I have to do almost every day.

* * * * *

When Jesus sent 70 of his guys out, the first thing he told them was, “The harvest is so great!” Talk about a mindset of plenty. He knew that for them to accomplish their goals, they had to see the cup as more than just half-full – they needed to see it as overflowing.

* * * * *

In our new book “83 Lost Sheep,” Gerry Stoltzfoos writes:

Wherever you see abundance, you will be the leader. If you don’t see abundance, you aren’t leading. Vision is the ultimate, essential core of leadership, because if you can see abundance somewhere, you will lead in that area.

If you see bits of poems lying around everywhere, then you are probably a poet.

If you see emotionally hurting people on the street and believe that there’s huge potential to set up a program to help them, then you probably will.

If you see high demand for a thingamajig and can envision how to create it cheap and sell it for a profit, then you will be the leader in that industry.

* * * * *

So what’s your outlook? When you look at your life, do you see a lot or a little?

Sometimes we need to adjust our vision. Sometimes we need to train ourselves to see possibility, instead of impossibility; opportunity, instead of dead end; a path, instead of a ditch.

What do you see?

When’s the last time your church talked about abortion?

No, not to discuss the moral or legal sides, but to listen to someone who is struggling with a decision they made years ago, and to love them.

When’s the last time your church talked about what it means to be gay?

No, not to denounce the lifestyle, but to pause a moment and listen to someone hurt by the marginalization of a sibling who has come out as gay, and the impact it’s had on their family. Or to listen to someone in the LGBT community, to let them tell their story without judgment.

When’s the last time your church talked about doubt?

No, not as the opposite of faith. Not as a weakness, but as an experience all of us encounter at one time or another. Or live with.

Last Sunday at The Red, some of the folks who came out to the meeting shared their stories. And instead of judgment, or shocked stares, they were greeted with acceptance and encouragement. Some of them, for the first time, were able to talk about the circumstances in their life that bring the most pain. Henri Nouwen writes that:

Joy is hidden in compassion. The word compassion literally means “to suffer with.” It seems quite unlikely that suffering with another person would bring joy. Yet being with a person in pain, offering simple presence to someone in despair, sharing with a friend times of confusion and uncertainty … such experiences can bring us deep joy. Not happiness, not excitement, not great satisfaction, but the quiet joy of being there for someone else and living in deep solidarity with our brothers and sisters in this human family. Often this is a solidarity in weakness, in brokenness, in woundedness, but it leads us to the center of joy, which is sharing our humanity with others.

Pain that goes unshared leads to death. Pain let out into the open can lead to healing.

When’s the last time your church or community of friends let pain or confusion out into the open?