Lent for the Not-so-Liturgical Soul

Lent for the Not-so-Liturgical Soul

A few months ago I got to talk with the high school and middle school students from my church, GraceFellowship, about fasting.

The church had entered a time of fasting and prayer. An intentional time of listening to Holy Spirit. The kids were tolerant, but weren’t exactly tracking with the idea of “giving up” chocolate or pizza or Instagram. For some, it seemed like another example of “if you like it, it must be bad” thinking. Does it make God happy to know I’m not eating pizza? What, exactly does chocolate have to do with Jesus?

Good question.

I remembered hearing somebody, sometime use the phrase “going fast after God.”

And I’m returning to that image now, on the second day of Lent.

How exactly, is the walk of Lenten liturgy, with its scripted prayers and fasting, supposed to connect with my not-so-liturgical soul?

Now, I enjoy but do not love liturgy.  I enjoy the poetic and imagery filled words – in limited quantity and time. But, to be honest, I’d rather attend one of those wild worship conferences with flags and dancing and folks who shout and laugh and lift their hands and keep singing after the band stops.

And yet, I DO want to run fast after God.

How we run fast depends on the race. I’m thinking of relay races and Cross Country runners. The Cross-country folks are like those wild worship conferences. Fast and slow together. Champions and freshmen. All starting the race at the same time. One glorious, chaotic crowd.

One of my daughters ran cross-country in college. She described the team as, “The Kenyans…they are so fast and they win.” Then, “the Europeans…they’re not quite as fast but they’re really determined.” At last, “the Azerbijanis…they just want to have a good time and are happy just to finish.” She loved being an Azerbijani and, when a “Kenyan” coach was hired the following year, she chose the more joyful option of running through Boston with her friend, Katie.

Liturgical worship reminds me more of relay races. Like a scripted dialogue or a choreographed dance. First, the baton-holder runs as fast as she can to her individual finish line. But, within a set and short space, she MUST hand off the baton to the next runner – or the whole team will forfeit.

In a matter of seconds, both runners position themselves in the same lane – one to hand off and the other to receive. A waltz of pace and position. With a bit of breath-holding, folks in the stands wait for that “slap” of the baton in the palm of the new runner.

Only then can the new runner hit top speed and finish the race.

Pace and position.

If I want to go fast after God, I need to pace myself and position myself to receive the baton of presence and intimacy.

The presence of Lent of course, is the connecting. Positioning myself to receive Jesus. Pacing my life and priorities to spend intentional time with God. Slowing to make space for that connection when the baton of His presence hits the palm of my soul.

He will make the connection if I just position myself to receive.

And intimacy…sometimes described as “into me I let you see” also positions me to receive. Positioning my heart to be vulnerable and honest with my Jesus. And with myself. Pacing my days so they aren’t so crammed with doing and “form” that I miss the being and substance of letting Jesus see into me – and receiving the same from him in return.

So, what, exactly does this have to do with Lent? Is all this talk about intimacy and presence more of the metaphor and imagery that can seem scripted and out-of-position for my more charismatic nature?

The answer? I don’t know. But, the Lenten “journey to the cross” has shaped and been shaped by Liturgy for millennia. Many people I admire hugely are great lovers of liturgical practice.

And, this year God is welcoming me into a more liturgical season and community.

This means pacing and positioning myself to receive something different. To see and experience with new eyes and openness.

I have no sense that God is asking me to change my “holy spirit dancing lady” nature. And yet, I am hearing an invitation to try a new race.

To position myself to receive by setting aside space and place. By adjusting my pace so my schedule is less hectic and spontaneous. And more restful…trusting that Jesus will meet me in the scripted prayers and fasting.

So, this year, it looks like “going fast after God” means going more slowly.  And, if the metaphor of the relay runner holds true, the result – after the baton of presence and intimacy is passed – will be a renewed capacity to run.

Thinking....or not. What AM I thinking?

Thinking about why I think about things…

In this era of “fake news” and public figures that clearly say one thing, then, abruptly, say the exact opposite…all the while stating, “I never said that. That’s fake news.” It’s becoming challenging to find, analyze, and hang on to actual facts. It’s becoming hard to THINK.

So, I’ve been thinking about how we think. Realizing that folks are often not taught to THINK, but only to learn the “accepted” perspsective (you know, the ONE right way or answer or theology) and to believe, speak, and make decisions based on that “right” perspective.

I spent some time thinking about how I think. And, to try to sharpen my thinking tools.

Here’s an in-process description:

·      I notice….I see something. Observe a pattern. Hear a perspective or information presented

·      I wonder.  Is this true? What’s happening here? Why are people doing or saying or believing this?

·      I gather.

o   Observations, perspectives and experiences. My own and others’.

o    Information. FACTS. Research and evidence-based information. Not opinions. Not popular theology. Actual facts.

o   Read actual work of theologians and scholars and researchers.

o   My goal is to understand and learn actual facts

·      I ponder. Hmmmm….what does this all mean? If what I notice. Or hear others say. Or read in an article or book or sermon….doesn’t match up with facts, evidence, or research-based information. What does that mean?

·      I analyze. For example, if someone says, “It’s wrong to take out loans to attend a top college. Because the Bible says not to borrow money.  Community college was good enough for me.” I must ask myself: questions like: is that actually what the Bible says? Is the translation accurate? What did those words mean in culture and history when they were actually written?  How does a 1^st century principle of living translate into 21^st century decision-making?
Or, “Plastic bags aren’t biodegradable. Use paper bags or you’re ruining the environment.” I must do some research. Hmmm…turns out paper bags weight 9 times more than plastic. So, it takes 9x more gas to ship them. But, 20% of paper bags are recycled while only 1% of plastic. Both produce pollution in manufacturing. Hmmmm…analyzing and actual facts produce a not-so-clear picture. Just accepting somebody else’s opinion or theology can lead me to wrong conclusions!

·      Then I conclude (with thanks to Paul and Donna Bell) I separate my perspectives:

o   Do I THINK something might be true?

o   Do I BELIEVE something is true because it “feels right” and lines up with what I observe and the observations , experiences and perspectives of others I trust.

o   Do I KNOW something is true because the information (observed, experienced, and research-evidence-scholarship-based) I gathered consistently supports it as true.

Finally, I hold things lightly.

 I’m working hard to remember Shawn Bolz’s statement “The need to be right will always war against love.”

Am I willing to be wrong? Willing to say, at some later date, “I used to believe this…or thought I KNEW this was true. I learned new information. Or, what I thought I observed wasn’t accurate. Or, results from scholarship, science/research have revealed new facts.

Now I see I was wrong. I’ve changed my thinking.”

OR am I so invested in being right that I’m not willing to say, “Whoops. I was wrong.”

So, when you hear me say, “I’ve been thinking about….” I’ll try to remember to also say….and I’m still  noticing…or wondering, gathering, pondering or analyzing. OR to clarify, “I think or believe this might be true, but I don’t know.”

Love to you all. Here’s to better thinking!

 

Loved...as in "I am..."
"You are..."
"Be..."

" in a world where you can be anything, be kind..."
Remind
Help someone find
Whisper from behind...
And call from the road ahead...
Into every mind
Where fear winds
Its lies and discouragement. And the world says you can't. And you won't. And you aren't.
Speak
This true word...
That I am loved. You are loved. Your name is beloved.

#lovewins

 

I've been experimenting with video postings on Facebook. For those of you who know that I'm somewhat technology challenged (was once the Dummie on which my son-in-law's programmer interns tested "is is clear enough yet?") this might be amusing.
HEY...I'm doing okay...except I don't know how to talk and show a photo at the same time.

IF you want to hear the video, send me a friend request on FB or check out my timeline.

This poem came after weeks of fog and wildfire-generated smoke residue in California. The fog felt grey and sad. Like a veil between me and the sun. Reminding me of those LONG midwestern winters where the sun pretty much went into hiding from October til May and, in the middle of it. you wondered whether the sun really existed at all.

the mural LOVED came in the middle of a week that didn't feel like love. I didn't realize how deeply sad I would be at John McCain's passing. His character and honesty  was like a small LED light breaking the fog of the current political environment. Realities that have made me weep (not symbolically, actual sobbing)...565 children still held captive by our government. STILL not returned to their parents - many of whom were deported. Many told "drop your asylum request and go home if you want your children to be returned."
A dear friend has been hospitalized repeatedly in the past year - nearly died at least 3 or 4 times. In the chaos, she missed a critical date for review of her Social Security Disability approval. Send a huge stack of documents proving her hospitalization(s) and was disapproved even so.  Now, threatened with removal of the only support she has, she could find herself homeless again. TOO MUCH! .... That's what the 20 BILLION dollar cut in HUD funding actually looks like.....processes looking for any way to deny people.  

Another best beloved just can't get thing together to go to rehab. Gathering the fragments of her life and pain to actually RISK making a change is overwhelming.  And, I am overwhelmed watching her.

All this...and I find the mural with one word LOVED.  Loved.  And I keep thinking about that. Returning to that. Pulling up the image on my phone when I'm feeling overwhelmed and deeply sad at the state of the world and the silence of much of the human community.

So, this poem came out. Reminding me of what is true.

If YOU are discouraged. If your justice heart, like mine, is rocked with pain and confusion. If you want something to be different and realize - like me - that the only thing you can control is YOU.

Here's a small word of encouragement.

"I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart. I have overcome the world."

Jhn 16:33

I am loved
You are loved
be loved

Beloved....

Recovery. Community. Grace. Chit Chat in the Tenderloin

It's AUGUST! What happened? It's like whiplash!

A beautiful report about Chit Chat Cafe, our women's 12-Step-based support group here in the Tenderloin.
About 2 1/2 years ago, God started nudging me about the real need to help women in recovery integrate their spiritual lives with the hard work of becoming and staying clean and sober.
I began to connect with women leaders in the 12 step community here in SF to ask advice. I attended an extensive training with Celebrate Recovery to see if their approach was a good fit for women in the Tenderloin.
Everyone said, "This is a GREAT idea...It's such a need...YES....start a group."
But no one could help - and I didn't know how to start a group or how to structure the group to fit Tenderloin women's unique needs.
I finally put the whole idea on the back burner. I respect the process and wisdom of the 12 Step community that says meeting and groups are not "therapy" they offer peer support. Because I've never been in recovery from chemical and alcohol addiction, I just plain don't qualify.

So I waited. More than a year.

Enter Karina, an intern with Because Justice Matters and Esther Movement Ministry. She came to learn and serve. AND brought with her years of recovery work....the 12 Steps had been integral to her own healing and relationship with Jesus.  So, we began Chit Chat Cafe, a women-only group. Karina brought her wisdom and understanding. The group started slowly and grew.

Now...WOW. This group hosts 4-9 women every single week. We have been exploring and sharing "experiences hopes and dreams" about each step....questions like "when did I experience the care of God?" or "What does it feel like to realize I'm powerless?" One week we talked about the safety of knowing God is THERE...."a power greater than myself"...about knowing that means we aren't alone in the struggle to become and stay clean and sober.

Every single week we LAUGH. Women tell bits of their own stories. Last week we talked about regret....and HOPE.
This is SO beautiful. I wanted to share it with all of you. Because God did it! And, it has become a small, fierce light of HOPE for women in the Tenderloin.

My dream in starting Chit Chat Cafe was 1) to support women in their drug and alcohol recovery work and 2) to create a place and process where women could bring their growing faith and their growing Recovery together.
And THAT's exactly what is happening.

Recently we "prayed out" 3 "trainees" (interns by another name) as they prepared to leave Because Justice Matters and return to college.  These 3 lovely young women had been coming to Chit Chat all summer. Sharing themselves and their own trek into life with a bunch of women mostly old enough to be their mothers.

As they shared about leaving, each one was SO sad. "I'll miss you," they said. "Thank you for letting us come."
The women prayed for them. For new experiences. For success in school. For the "next step in your life."  One woman, who lives on the streets and copes with severe mental illness prayed, "Go. Be Safe. We won't forget you."

I wish you all could come to Chit Chat. Sit in that circle and read the Steps that help women find themselves and believe in themselves again.
To sit with women who once thought they were lost in homelessness and addiction and see them encourage and call each other to grow and change.
To laugh together. To share a meal and welcome someone new. And to believe. Together. That change is possible and God can make us new creations.

Thank you all for support. Encouragement. And for believing in me and in what I'm doing here in SF.

Love to you all
Nothing is impossible!

JULIA

She's EDENMade...

EDENMade

I moved to SF in 2013 with a dream to create paths of healing friendship with women sex workers. I was drawn to the strip clubs and massage parlors. Came to understand that the women I met on the streets and in the single-room “apartments” scattered throughout the Tenderloin all had their stories of exploitation.

Many had sold their bodies as the last, remaining “resource” in a life where both safety and safety nets were non-existent. Some grew up in families where their boundaries had never, ever been protected or respected. How would they know their bodies were their Own? How would they understand that NO is an answer? Children whose boundaries were violated grew into women without boundaries.

Sex work was a means of survival.

I saw, in real time, that “sex trafficking” wasn’t just a problem “over there” somewhere. It was – and IS – a current, RIGHT NOW crisis for women on street corners and small town "gentlemen's clubs." In massage parlors and escort services and hotels and truck stops and on college campuses. It is HERE and it is NOW.

Because Justice Matters is establishing the foundation for EDENMade, our official ministry dedicated to reaching women in sex work through relationship, resources and presence.

Our team – Lynae Byler (Nurse, leader, connector-of-people, healer, one of 12 children in a Pennsylvania Mennonite family....a power house woman) and Karina Espina (a Venezuelan, bi-lingual, recovery-informed firebrand who lives on a sail boat in Alameda harbor with her beloved husband and partner James).

We are nurturing a small group of volunteers. Developing a training process. Collecting make-up for “outreach” gift bags. Praying a LOT.

We've been meeting monthly with volunteers to pray. Plan a training for folks ready to "sign on the dotted line" and other interested Bay Area folks this spring or early summer. By fall, we will start monthly, focused "getting to know you" outreach in one strip club - probably the New Century...about 5 blocks from the YWAM base at the corner of Larkin and O'Farrell.

This is an answer to prayer that began in 2010. It is a big reason why I moved to San Francisco. It is HAPPENING and God is in it!

 Want to know more? Want to come to San Francisco and join our team? Want to pray or send gift bag bling or support me financially?  Let me know.

julia@becausejusticematters.org
608-332 6056
357 Ellis Street
San Francisco, California 94102

#metoo....Time to Talk?

 

Been thinking about the #metoo movement. How, it started with "regular women" - like us. Then, the tsunami of women in entertainment. In government. Business. Judges, University Professors, CEOs and famous writers.

These high-profile voices brought power to the movement. And, in the process, the witness and words of the "regular women" and the "organic-ness" of the movement got detoured.

It really IS important that women-of-influence break their silence. And, it is equally important that we - all women - come together....give each other permission to speak...believe each other...support healing...create safe spaces to speak and listen together.

SO...

I want to try to create some spaces for speaking and listening. Safe spaces. Spaces in often silent places - like churches or a knitting shop...Somebody's living room or the unique community of the workplace.

I need your help:

1) Do you think this is a good idea?

2) What would YOU hope to see happen if a #metoo group gathered in your "place?"

2) What is your "place?" Who would gather there? (could be online...at your house...in a church or other "gathering" space)

3) What do you fear might happen if you gathered women together to invite them to speak and listen?

4) What's keeping you from doing this now?

5) Wanna talk? PM me on Facebook. Send an email to: pferdehirt.julia@gmail.com
Add a comment to the thread on my Facebook page - if there's a discussion....join in.

Let's Speak. Let's Listen. Help me get this ball rolling....

Happy Day-After Christmas.

LOVE, Julia

PS: Putting this on my blog for "public consumption."

www.becausejusticematters2013.blogspot.com

Feel free to send to others.

Treasure in the Mission

Treasure in The Mission

Papusas! Where's Sylvia?

Saturday night in the Mission. Best burritos and papusas EVER. Hanging out with my YWAM sisters, Laina, Kelsey and Sylvia.
 

Suddenly, a woman I sort-of, kinda recognize is shouting. Rushing toward me. She grabs me in a bear hug. 

“I’m D,” she says. “You remember me.”

And then, in an instant, I do remember.

Except  she, frankly, doesn’t look AT ALL like the woman who lived on a sidewalk in the Tenderloin a year ago.

Her smile doesn’t remind me at all of the angry, aggressive, sometimes raging drug dealer who I once saw beat a man with her fists in broad daylight.

Her warm, enveloping hug doesn’t bring to mind the night I found her, trembling with cold and soaked to the skin, waiting for her “boyfriend.". Leaving her “post” could get her in trouble with her ‘upline” – drug dealers from East Bay who supply street dealers in the Tenderloin. So she waited in the rain.

I look her over with hungry eyes. Her skin in clear. Her eyes shining. She is about HALF the size she was when she lived in front of my home and workplace.

“I lost 130 pounds!” she exclaimed.

“You look SO good. So happy. What’s happening?”

Her boyfriend (whom I hadn’t noticed….sorry about that dude) shook a ring of keys.

“We have a place,” D. said. “We got housing. They offered us [a studio in the Tenderloin] or here. We picked here!”

She hugged me again. I hugged her back. D. said,

“It’s home. The rent is paid. The lights are on. There’s food in the fridge,” D. said. “After that, everything else is extra!”

“You don’t look like your old self. You look so HAPPY!” I said.

She laughed. “I AM happy!”  We continue to talk…

“YWAM is the only thing I miss about the Tenderloin,” D says.

“How are Tim and Karol (our YWAM base directors)?” she asks.

“So good. Good things are happening.”

“And Jan and Trevor?”

Now, Jan and Trevor are YWAMers. A so-so-kind couple from England. Trevor fixes things and brings sanity to  our accounting department. They're the Bay-Area Alpha Course leaders.

At YWAM SF, Jan wrangles hospitality. Imagine something like managing a youth hostel with random people arriving and leaving at all hours from all kinds of places….with a different staff “greeting” each week of the year. AND creating beautiful rooms to welcome them. That’s Jan.

On the streets and in the YWAM base. On the phone with someone inquiring about hospitality….everywhere, Jan calls people “Treasure.”  With a British accent, of course!

You’ll see her chatting with a ragged, bent old man. Homeless for years. Needing a shower and shave.  She’ll smile. She’ll say, “Can I pray for you, Treasure?”

A street kid? “Hello Treasure, how are you?”

A woman in a soiled sequined corset and tight, frayed leggings “chatting up” the guys in front of the park?  “Good morning, Treasure, I’m Jan.”
D., a traumatized, angry woman selling crack in front of the YWAM base? "Treasure" again.

And Jan hugs. Jan prays. Jan slowly builds relationships of trust. She’s so non-threatening. So kind. So ready to pray, believing her beautiful Jesus cares about every single need.

***

So, here we are, meeting D on a crazy-busy street corner in the Mission.

“Who are Jan and Trevor?” her boyfriend asks.

“You know Jan,” D. responds. She smiles. She hugs herself …. That action speaking a thousand words, somehow.

“You know Jan.  I’m her treasure.”