♥ Jeremiah 29:11 says, “I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Plans. Plural. Not “plan” singular.) ♥

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always liked to draw, paint and create. When I was a young child there was a local television personality who was an artist. He appeared with the “Bozo The Clown” and somewhere in between the cartoons, the circus atmosphere and other story-telling segments he’d draw stuff. I think several cities around the country had their own Bozo character back in those days. In any event, I was glued to the set every time this artist guy came on TV. I’d sit anxiously many afternoons just waiting to be amazed at his ability to create.

The art supplies this man used included two things, a huge tablet of blank white paper and a black marker. Of course, everything was in black and white in those days. At least it was at my house. We had still not gotten a color TV. Anyway, this man’s finished works of art on paper were permanent works of art that went home with each child who participated. No chalk, chalkboard or dusty eraser to erase mistakes. Why? This guy was good; he never made mistakes. That’s why!

The amazing part is he would invite kids to come up from the audience and participate. His challenge to each person was simple – make a mark on the paper and he could turn “anything” no matter what you chose to draw on the paper into a face, an animal, a funny character or some other more elaborate piece of artwork with a few more select strokes and scribbles of the marker.

Boys and girls alike would try so hard to stump him by coming up with some marking they felt would make his job more difficult. But he always managed to turn the most simple “dot, dash, circle, small square, or wild scribble” into something awesome and beautiful. This is honestly (perhaps oddly), at least partially, where my love for art first originated.

I never planned to enter grade school. I could have stopped with kindergarten and been perfectly fine. I will never forget being dragged to elementary school kicking and screaming on several occasions. As I entered first grade, Arts and Crafts time quickly became my favorite part of the day. In one particular “learning” exercise each student in class was to draw what we wanted to be when he/she grew up. I remember the teacher asking us, one by one, to tell her and the rest of the class about what we had drawn and why. I can’t recall exactly who or what my peers ended up drawing. I can imagine some sketched firemen, nurses, doctors, moms, dads, cowboys and even animals.

When the teacher called on me, I remember being stressed. I understood the exercise completely; I simply did not have the vocabulary at that age to explain “why” I only scribbled on the paper. In my mind, I was thinking about the television personality but was unable to relay that message in words. However, my teacher through her loving goodness and grace, sparred me any embarrassment by not pointing out that my drawing didn’t meet the requirements of the assignment.

My drawing that day in no way took on the form of a person, place or thing of any kind. But my teacher quietly looked at my art and proudly showed my scribbles to the class and said that I had made a beautiful piece of artwork. Later on in the year I remember a similar exercise where I drew a Postman.

I never became a postman. I never became a lot of things. I doubt that many of us are living Plan A of what we hoped to be when we grew into adulthood. In reality many of us are probably on Plan B, C, D, E… etc. If you’re like me, you many be rapidly approaching the end of the alphabet.

In many ways the world may see some of us as failures due to failed plans. I am certain there are some people out there who judge me for where I am in my journey. Some of these people are my Christian friends. Based on some of my choices though, they question whether it’s possible for me to be a Christian at all. I lost a lot of friends after I became divorced. It was tough for “mutual” friends to pick one side I guess. I kept my faith in God, so I could never quite understand why it seemed as if they lost faith in me.

♥ I was and still an often reminded when someone questions my walk with God that Jesus says, “You judge by human standards, but I do not.” ♥

Many people feel they have made so many mistakes in life that if God ever had a plan for them, it must be spoiled. But I am living proof that He does not give up on us. The world does. But God does not. He has more than one plan (or way) to give us hope and a future. Not only does God have more than one plan; God is at work to fulfill those plans. In order for God to work through us, we have to deny self. Sometimes we may lose everything. You have a choice at that point. You can turn everything over to God and allow His love and mercy to give you the strength needed. Or you can try it on our own & fall further. It begins with coming clean and begin honest – emptying your heart before God. If you have ever reached a bottom in your life like I have, then you will understand.

♥ Romans 12:1-2 says, “Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” ♥
I think a lot of the reason people get married is because it’s what their families and society expect them to do. I don’t think anyone really goes into marriage expecting to later become divorced. When divorce entered into my life story many years ago, I wondered if my life was wrecked forever. Not only had I disappointed my family and friends, but I also felt as though I could never live up to who God intended for me to be.

Not a lot of people know this, but at the time of my divorce I was answering a call to ministry. How could people ever take someone like me seriously as a spiritual leader? How could I lead a youth group or preach about marriage or covenant when my marriage had failed? I am not proud of the fact that divorce became a part of my life story. I am not ashamed of it either. God and I have worked through a lot of things since then. I have come to the realization that God has more than one plan.

Mistakes in life come in many forms. Some are the result of wrong life choices, like maybe taking the wrong career path or for marrying someone for the wrong reasons. No matter where you find yourself today, past mistakes and sin cannot overrule God’s desire for your happiness. God has more than one way to give us hope and a future. So, again not only does God have more than one plan; God is at work to fulfill those plans. When I fell on my knees and became totally honest with God, He listened and looked into the deepest part of me.

Colossians 3:12-14 is one of my favorite passages of scripture, ♥ “Therefore as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bare with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” ♥
Today, I am blessed with many awesome gifts from God – my children (Lindsey, Kale and Josh), three dogs (Bailey, Buster and Beaux), my best friend (John), a wonderful loving family and an extended family of friends from all walks of life. The verse above along with the quote below have become very engrained in my mind I’ve been told several times the words in the quote sound really nice, but from a Biblical standpoint, it had a lot of holes in it. It makes me wonder if the people who say this have let God inside the deepest, darkest places of human life that need God most. The quotes says this:

“As humans, we have the ability to love and be loved. Granted the science of life belongs to a man and woman, the role of nurturing another life, or feeding and holding and loving a child or another fellow human being belongs to any man or woman or combination therein who find themselves the strength and compassion required to do so.”

Sometimes when I see young couples who fall into the “Married with two kids (boy & girl) and house with white picket fence” category and I sometimes see a drawing on a chalk board. Not that I would want a marriage to end. I just know how fragile any relationship can be. I always hope and pray that these family units realize what a gift from God means. Remember, nothing is permanent, but you have to praise God through the good and the bad times. Drawings from children in today’s world are sure to come in many, many forms when it comes to family. I look at people so much differently today. I know within my heart that God’s Love and compassion is much bigger than some people can comprehend. Too many people live a life of religion filled with rules instead of love. Sometimes rules simply don’t work. That’s where grace jumps in and God sees, feels, and understands our hearts and all of the things which are sometimes impossible to write, draw or articulate.

♥ Romans 5:20 says, “God’s law was given so that all people could see how sinful they were. But as people sinned more and more, God’s wonderful grace became more abundant.” ♥

Brother Jamey, our Pastor at canvascommunity has encouraged each one of us in this small community of faith to tell our personal stories. What I’ve written is only one small part of mine. I want you to know that you have a friend on life’s journey when plans fail. God loves you. And because God loves you, so do I. And while the drawing of my life story is still incomplete and always changing, Jesus Christ is there beside me gently filling in many missing lines and is ALWAYS making beautiful artwork out of my messy scribbles. Through His love and grace, failures are erased. My heavenly Father is keeping no record of my wrongs. Through the love of Christ, God knows my heart and makes my drawings much more amazing that I could ever do on my own.

No matter where you are on your faith journey, share your story. Someone out there needs to hear it. And get ready to be amazed at what God will do!

Keith Sullivan is an area manager for several restaurants, a chef and a heart surgery survivor. Here he shares his passion for food, people, canvascommunity and God.

Jamey has been asking for stories now for a couple of weeks, I now know it’s time for me to tell mine.

I was born in 1962; in 1963 I had my first open-heart surgery. In 1970 I had my second. Now you have to understand that this type of procedure was only created in 1948, so it was fairly new to the medical world.

After my second surgery, the doctors said that I needed to have no salt in my foods for a period of time. My mother was raising four kids and now she had a child who had special needs. I watched my mother day in and day out prepare my meals separate from the rest of the family’s so that I didn’t have the sodium. She had to have separate pots and pans, and yet she still put so much love into what I needed and never complained about it. She found joy in that and I started to see the joy and love she felt doing that simple task of providing my meals for me.

She then started teaching me to cook and I too found the joy and the love and happiness that it brought to everyone that I prepared a meal for. I knew then that I wanted to become a chef. It took me a long time to understand the gift that I was being given.

When I first started culinary school it was for self gratification, and it would be a great way to pick up chicks, or at least I thought. I finished school and started my life, but was still very lost for a period of time. I got involved in a program in Atlanta called Galano Club in mid town. There I helped the gay and lesbian community work through some of their addiction problems by providing classes that taught them cooking and nutrition skills. Starting to see a pattern here yet?

Now fast forward to the early 2000’s. I always knew that I had a talent to make people happy through my food, but it took me a long time to realize that it was a gift from God and that it was not a talent but a gift that had been given to me. I didn’t know how to use it the right way.

For the longest time I was a very bitter man and was very judgmental and self centered. I met Jennifer in 2006, when I moved to Arkansas. We had our ups and downs like every couple, but I now know a lot of it was because of me. I didn’t have God in my heart again.

We always talked about having something that we could connect with, or somewhere. She started going to Canvas long before I did and tried very hard to get me involved and be a part of something with her. I fought it for a long time, until Amy, my daughter, got involved.

I finally said, “well let’s see what this Canvas thing is all about.” Thank you God for bringing me to this community where I can be me and I can help You. Remember that I had open heart surgery twice? What I failed to mention is that the scars that I have from those surgeries make a cross on my chest that I see every day. I thank God for giving the doctors the skills to give me my life, and my mother for the gift of being a giving mother.

I now know more than ever that the gift God gave me I am supposed to use for others instead of myself. I also know that every time I put my hands in the food, that God has His hands in it with me, guiding me. This community and the people in it have given me my life back and the direction I needed. I am going to do my best to continue become a better person and help others to get in better places in their lives.

Take a survey and tell us!

This brings me to my concept of the three degrees of Bentley. If you talk to someone in Arkansas, it will take, at a maximum, three connections to get to some sort of tie with the Bentley family, possibly two if you are up around Mountain Home or Jonesboro. If you are United Methodist you can’t even play the game because it’s like insider trading.

Why bring this up? Because while I realized pretty early on that I have a direct connection to everyone through God, He really wanted me to get to know his Son. I was having a hard time with that connection, so He kept steering me toward Bentleys. Funny how that happens.

Connection #1

College took me to Jonesboro where the religious groups on campus were determined to save everyone from eternal damnation and I was determined to enjoy the ride there. I ensured my loss of scholarships early on and after a few months was beginning to wonder if I would even make it through the first year.

One day my roommate suggested we go to the Wesley Foundation for lunch. Who ever said there was no such thing as a free lunch never visited a Wesley Foundation. Some church ladies from a local congregation were serving; I smiled politely and kept running Dana Carvey’s “Saturday Night Live” skit through my mind. “Who do we have visiting us today? Is it SATAN?!?!”

I was juggling a tuna sandwich and iced tea to the table when someone asked us to pray. I close my eyes respectfully and prepared for a rambling, browbeating type prayer like my grandfather would give; the kind where you get dizzy from keeping your eyes closed so long. This prayer was different than I expected. It was direct and personal and it was as if this guy was talking to a friend and saying, “Hey, thanks for lunch, and thanks for sending your Son over to make sure we’re all o.k.” I opened my eyes and there was David Bentley, minister for the Wesley Foundation.

Pretty soon I was racing back to college on Sunday afternoons to have dinner with friends and hear David share yet another passage from the Bible. Maybe at first it was all about the free food, but more and more I felt like a door was opening. The stories were beginning to make sense, and more than that, they were relevant to what was going on in my life. These were folks who had screwed up royally, and still God loved them. And, he was letting, his son, Jesus, hang out with people just like me. I not only made it through college, but thrived on the love of Jesus and the misfits who hung out at the Wesley.

Connection #2

Years passed. I got married, had a daughter and got caught up in all of life’s struggles. My attendance at any sort of church dropped off. The bills and diapers piled up and the arguments increased until we reached a breaking point and suddenly I was alone in the midst of the storm. I sold everything, moved back home to Sherwood and went into an emotional coma. Don’t touch. Don’t think. Don’t let a memory bring it all crashing back. Death seemed like sweet relief; the only thing sweeter was the smell of my daughter’s hair.

My sister attended Sylvan Hills United Methodist Church, and it wasn’t long before I realized I was a stone’s throw from another Bentley. Cherie (now a Baker), took my crushed soul and lovingly soothed my scarred spirit. She reminded me of the unconditional love I had for my daughter, and the unconditional love God has for all of us. When I could finally breathe on my own, she guided me to a group of women who had all been through divorce and together we wept and laughed until the pain was bearable. I not only owe Cherie my sanity, but in many ways I owe her my life.

Connection #3

Fast-forward through years of hating being single, loving being single and hating being single again. I met Keith, we settled down and all of a sudden I had a marriage, two beautiful girls (one shared with me by God’s grace) a mom-in-law, three dogs and an obnoxious cat. For some reason, I had a rumbling in my soul; I was spiritually hungry.

At Thanksgiving last year I casually mentioned a Christian writer to my sister and we got into the whole “what’s wrong with today’s church” thing again. She told me Jamey Bentley had preached recently at her church and was heading up a new congregation. The more she talked, the more I had to experience it myself. A few days later I walked into Canvas and it was like time stood still. There stood Cherie, arms wide for a hug. There was Jamey, his blue eyes so much like his father’s.

As I listened to Jamey share his message about God’s love for all of us, and about following Jesus by sharing that love with everyone, it struck me that I had come full circle. I had received God’s love, and my introduction to Jesus, through the words of David. I had gone through my darkest hour supported by Cherie and now here was Jamey asking me to move beyond my comfort zone and share the love I had experienced at a whole new level.

Not only have I experienced the three degrees of Bentley, I have experienced three people who have radically influenced my life for the better. That is powerful. That is God.

(A variation of this post was preached at Canvas Community on September 12, 2011)

Do you remember that debt ceiling drama in Washington, D.C. from earlier in the summer?  If you recall, the credit limit we had established for ourselves had been reached, and in order for the government to continue operating, we needed to raise that limit – the “debt ceiling.”  This ceiling has been raised many times since we established it, most of the time without anyone noticing.  This time it turned into this high stakes drama which threatened to throw us into a national financial disaster if something wasn’t worked out.  Well, it got worked out, but this whole thing got me all worked up.  I was really bothered by the rhetoric of our politicians as well as all the emails I got from various groups urging me to contact my representatives to tell them to vote this way or that way.  It was all very scary to think about the “doomsday” scenarios if we sunk into a second Great Depression.  Julie and I just bought a house.  What if we couldn’t pay for it?  This kind of worry makes me wonder what I really have my faith in:  the “full faith and credit of the United States” that backs our nation’s debt?  The money in my bank account?  The business that provides my living?  In the middle of all that worry where’s my faith in God?

I began feeling very vulnerable.  This feeling reconnected me with some of my greatest fears in life.  A Pink Floyd song, “The Final Cut,” seemed to put that vulnerability into words and song.  (Any Pink Floyd fans out there?  Anyone ever heard of Pink Floyd?  Don’t worry; I’m just going to quote some lyrics…)

And if I show you my dark side

Will you still hold me tonight?

And if I open my heart to you, show you my weak side,

                        What would you do?

This was my greatest fear in high school.  If people knew the thoughts in my head and feelings in my heart, would they stop hanging around?  If they knew my secret thoughts and actions, what would happen?  I especially feared what those closest to me might do.  Would they stop loving me?  

These days I have a pretty good cover.  I’m the guy who wears dress pants, plays the right chords, and looks like he ought to have some money in the bank.  However, I’m still the little first grade boy who was new at school and got beat up by a kindergartner.  I’m still the little boy who cried when the teacher took him to the office to get a paddling for pushing another kid.  I’m still the little boy who cried when he struck out at baseball (a lot - even when they would tee it up for me in pre-Little League – I held a grudge against baseball for a long, long time…)  I’m still the one who wanted his mom to walk him to class on the first day of sixth grade at a new school, and I’m the one who got told, “You’re not one of the cool dudes anymore,” after three long and socially-awkward months of trying to be one.

Those are my personal nightmares, but there are other fears that may be more common.  One of the reasons I’m proud to be here at Canvas is that we’re willing to face one particular fear that arises as we get closer to our friends and neighbors who are homeless.  One reason I think many folks are not comfortable with the homeless is because if they get closer, if they visit with homeless people, if they get to know them as real people, they know they will have to face a frightening truth:  any one of us could end up homeless.  I’m just a few missed paychecks or a catastrophic illness or injury away from losing the stuff that props up my apparently stable life and keeps me from living on the streets.  God does not love me more because I have a house; I’m not a better person because I can pay the rent or mortgage.  This truth is very disturbing because even if I don’t ever say it out loud, some part of me really thinks I am more loved and I am better because I have stuff.  And I don’t like it when God or anyone else messes with my illusion of “truth.”

Just over ten years ago, we as a nation experienced this loss of stability when planes were used as weapons.  One thing I’ve heard many times since that day is that we lost our innocence and that the world was not as safe as it appeared to be.  On that day we as a nation experienced what it’s like to feel vulnerable.

I hate this vulnerability and weakness and fear.  I want to run from it whenever it comes over me – to stop looking at it and obsessing over it and having it run my life.  I’m a grown man – I never thought I’d have to keep feeling like that little crying first grader once I was taller than my dad (who’s 6’2”).  I want to somehow actually be the strong, powerful guy who has it all together – not just the guy with the best disguise and the appearance of stability.

One possible response to this overwhelming sense of vulnerability is to resist it with all our might and to reassert our power.  We’ve seen that played out over the last ten years as wars have been waged to combat terror.  In a sense these wars have been waged to combat our sense of weakness and replace our vulnerability with a sense of strength and power.  And it would be nice if God would act like that, too, and swoop in to rescue us and beat back our enemies.

However, I’m not sure God works like that.  My basis for this speculation is the picture of God I get when I look at Jesus.  As a Christian, I believe the God of the universe who created the world and everything in it is seen most clearly in Jesus of Nazareth, the one called “Emmanuel” – “God is with us.”  The God of the universe became one of us, getting his start as a refugee baby in a war zone.  Not only did God become one of us, God became one of the poorest and most vulnerable among us.  Isaiah says: “he was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity… he was despised, and we held him of no account.” (Isaiah 53:3) Yet, he chose this, wanting to share our deepest hurts and pain.

Early Christians developed a hymn that expressed how they had experienced Christ.  We have it in the apostle Paul’s letter to the church in a place called Philippi.

His state was divine,

yet he did not cling

to his equality with God

but emptied himself

to assume the condition of a slave,

and became as we are;

and being as we are,

he was humbler yet,

even to accepting death,

death on a cross,

but God raised him high

and gave him the name

which is above all other names

so that all beings

in the heavens, on earth and in the underworld,

should bend the knee at the name of Jesus

and that every tongue should acclaim

Jesus Christ as Lord,

to the glory of God.

(Philippians 2:6-11 based on New Jerusalem Bible quoted in Compassion: a Reflection on the Christian Life, by Henri Nouwen, Donald McNeill, and Douglas Morrison)

A few weeks ago, Jamey mentioned that in Matthew 14, Jesus’ “compassion” for the crowd meant that he took on their suffering.  He felt their sicknesses and pain and hunger in his own guts.  That’s the amazing and scary thing about Jesus is that he was so able to be with us:  being born poor, having to work hard, being hungry, being scared, hurting, being beaten up and spit on and hated and then being killed.  Why do this?  What good is it for the most powerful force in the universe to live in complete solidarity with us?  This willingness of God Almighty to come down and share our vulnerability – to live in solidarity with us at our weakest and our worst – this is the mysterious source of our healing and salvation.

I see Jesus in the guy behind the Pink Floyd song, in the homeless ones we eat with and watch movies with on Wednesdays, in anyone who comes out of the closet, and in everyone who lives in fear and vulnerability anywhere in the world.  Jesus being with us and dying with us and rising with us creates a community of vulnerability where I can be myself – where we can all be who we are without masks (though I still keep mine close by – just in case).  If I own my own vulnerabilities, I can be open to others (who are all vulnerable like me – some differently, some more obviously so, some less).  And God is there in our vulnerability and honesty and weakness.

We can’t understand this kind of loving, vulnerable presence.  But God didn’t ask us to understand.  Christ said, “Take, eat; this is my body broken for you.  Drink this cup; this is my blood poured out for you.”  The invitation is to taste and see, not to taste and understand.

So, that being said, this is my first attempt at blogging, though I write all the time in my real-world gig. What makes this different? I can b.s. my way through a lot of corporate stuff, but this is way harder. This is real, raw-emotion God talk.

My spiritual journey is a mixed bag, but that is what led me to Canvas. When I was little, my dad was in the Air Force, and we were never any place more than five years at a time. My first memories were from Okinawa, Japan, where I would look out the car window at the Shinto temples and sit beside our gardener Zeke as he pulled weeds. One day I stepped on a bug with my sandal and Zeke asked me why. I don’t remember my answer, but I remember him telling me that all creatures are connected and deserve respect. I also remember that was one of the first times I ever felt ashamed.

We moved from Okinawa to northern Maine — just a bit of a transition — and I got my first introduction to Christianity. Friends would ask me to church and I would eagerly go, coloring with bright crayons and singing happy songs. When I got back Mom would be nice but unmoved by my pleas to go as a family. These same sweet friends would later tell me that Zeke, Toshiko and the other Okinawans I loved dearly would not be in heaven because they weren’t Christians. Wait a minute…

Mom eventually found a church for us. Every Sunday morning we rose early and dressed appropriately. We joined the huddled and frightened masses for the rituals of cleaning and feeding. Our church was the Loring Air Force Base Humane Society. We took the dogs out for a breath of freedom and stroked the kittens and told them they were beautiful. I tried not to find out if the ones that were missing from week to week were adopted or euthanized. I found God in that place, but a different God than the one of crayons and Bible songs. Prayers did not save these innocent creatures from methodical death. My Christian friends explained that it was o.k.; animals don’t have souls. But I could look into a dog’s eyes and see and feel unconditional love. She can love, but she doesn’t have a soul? I was starting to not like my Christian friends so much.

We moved from Maine to Arkansas when I was in sixth grade and I found myself in the buckle on the Bible belt. Kids at school asked which church I went to. I said I didn’t. “Then you’re going to Hell,” was the sing-song response. I tried to explain that I was agnostic. “You use big words; you’re going to Hell.” Did I mention that I really disliked Christians at this point?

Eventually I found friends who weren’t miniature Bible thumpers and grew up fairly normally. We didn’t talk about religion and I kept my beliefs to myself. I became a voracious reader of anything regarding spirituality, whether it was world religions or more fringe beliefs, like crystals and parapsychology. I picked up a Bible a few times, but it was confusing and filled with bizarre stories that made little sense. I did figure out that the words in red were supposedly from Jesus, and those made more sense. They were simple: Love each other, take care of each other, respect each other. Where did Jesus say I was going to Hell?

I’m beginning to realize that the hard part about writing a blog is not figuring out what to say – though that is hard – but where to stop and let the conversation begin. I found God early on through the people and animals of this world. It wasn’t until much later that I developed a relationship with Jesus, and began to understand the bizarre stories in that book we use as a guide. In some ways I’ve still got my training wheels, but in others I think I got a jump on things. It took a Buddhist and a bunch of homeless animals to teach me about unconditional love and respect for all living things. I’m pretty sure the Jesus I know now would be all right with that.

~Jennifer Sullivan

I am very much a Christian, and feel that, while I may not always agree with others, I can still learn from them, and Hinduism is no exception. As I look back on my life and my own periods of destruction, I understand what Todd’s companion was telling him. As hard as some of the struggles in my life have been, I have always learned from them and become stronger through them. I will not say I’m glad for all of them, but I did learn and a new cycle always began.

When I was eighteen, I lost my father to cancer. I grew up in a small town and bounced between Baptist and Catholic upbringings, never having really connected to God through either. I went to church, was part of the youth group and did all the right things, but never really felt God’s presence. I always believed in him, but never really felt him. It was all just words and ritual. Struggling through the loss of my father was hard and I now wonder how it might have been different had I been a part of a faith community where I felt it was okay to be vulnerable, how it might have given me the sense of presence that I was lacking. Without even realizing it, this lack of spiritual support had a major impact on me. Once I became a mother, it was very important that my daughter just go to church, but be part of a community that allowed her to be herself and be loved, no matter what. I wanted her to have a place that enhanced her spiritual growth and acted out God’s love, allowing her to feel his presence. Canvas has done that. A new cycle began.

In 1995, after several years of marriage and producing the most beautiful daughter God ever put on this earth, I divorced my husband. Without going into a lot of detail, let’s just say the marriage was very hard and I wanted more for my daughter than to grow up in a home filled with turmoil. I am a very loyal and devoted person, sometimes to a fault. I have been known to continue to struggle and fight for something that has long since died, but I’m loyal that way, so the demise of my marriage was hard to allow. In hindsight, it was the best thing for us all. For years after my divorce, I found myself feeling like God was mad at me, like he had put me in time out. I felt like I was the one person in the world that all his promises didn’t apply to, the one person he really didn’t care about. I once told Jamey that I felt like I was sitting by a pool, just sitting alone watching as God and others had a great time, oblivious to my presence (it was summertime and hot, hence the pool analogy). Jamey said to me, “but you haven’t walked away from the pool, that’s the important thing.” He was right. While I still felt distant and alone, I hadn’t walked away. This allowed me to look at my relationship with God in a new way, that while it may not be what I wanted it to be, it was something. A new cycle began.

Shelby has been very open about her struggle with faith. After losing her father to cancer when she was only ten she shut down emotionally and shut God out. She was angry with him. Shelby’s path was a very hard one. One that some of you know, and I will be happy to share with anyone who asks, but will not bore you with it here. Suffice it to say, I had to make the hardest decision of my life and professional intervention was required. Last summer, Shelby accomplished a major goal. She was able to finally, make peace with her past, defeat her inner struggles and open up to the world. This process was very hard on me as well. It is difficult to watch your child endure pain and not be able to help. Through it all, our Canvas family was there, even when I wasn’t. I always knew that if I needed anything, they were there. If I cried, or was angry, or confused, or whatever, they were there; no judgment! Shelby and I have been down a road that few families go down, thankfully, and our faith community was always there. We were able to be vulnerable and share our experiences and our struggles, openly, freely and honestly. In light of everything, we were supported, never condemned, never ridiculed, never lectured; simply loved, warts and all. As I said, last summer was a major turning point. We are both smarter, stronger, and Shelby has even welcomed God back into her life. A new cycle began.

Life is hard, sometimes, even harder when you are alone. I have found this faith community that we call Canvas to be a place where you don’t have to be alone. It is a place where you can bare your very soul and not be judged. It is a place of love and compassion, no matter what. It is a place where acceptance is abundant. It is a place where one can be supported and held up when we are too weak to hold ourselves up. It is a place of love, God’s love. It is a place where, regardless of how difficult the destruction is, a new cycle begins.

Marie Guthridge

I started to meet with Jamey because I was angry with God. My then eight-year-old son was struggling with things no one his age should have to suffer. His suffering made things hard for our whole family. Jamey would listen to me rail on about my feeling of injustice and assure me that it was okay to be angry with God. I remember him saying something like, “It’s okay. He’s a big God. He can take your anger.” These statements were freeing to me. I’d always been taught not to question what came my way.  That was blasphemy. By allowing me to be angry, it lessened my anger, if that makes sense.

I began to pray again, and at that point I renewed my faith. There was no huge “light-bulb moment.” God didn’t leave me a note on the fridge saying it was time to get things together, nothing extraordinary happened, with the exception of the way I begin change and how I begin to take notice of how God was working in my life. I love the song, “He Woke Me Up Again,” by Sufjan Stevens. Here are the lyrics:

He was, he was in the churchyard.
My father was in the first part.
He came, he came to my bedroom
but I was asleep.
And he woke me up again to say:

Halle Halle Hallelujah
Holy Holy is the sound.

And I hope, I hope you are tired out.
And I know, I know there is joy endowed.
But I was asleep,
And he woke me up again,
And he woke me up again to say…

Hold on, hold on to your old ways
Or put off, put off every old face.
And I know, I know you are changed out.
And I hope, I hope you’re arranged out.
But I’m still asleep
And you woke me up again.
And I’m still asleep
But you woke me up to leave

I feel like God woke me up again. Two of my favorite lines are: “And I know there is joy endowed.” And “But you woke me up to leave.” We can always find joy if we look hard enough. It may not be in the thing that’s causing us pain, but if we take time to look outside that pain for a moment, we can find something, however infinitesimal it may be. The last line reminds me that he will always be there for me and won’t give up on me, even when I have.

February 1, of this year the most awful thing I’ve ever known happened. My mother died of a pulmonary embolism. She was in the hospital for some routine tests and the doctors said she was going to be fine. This was a Monday, and I called Jamey and asked for prayer. I spoke to her later in the evening after I’d left, and she was fine. The hospital called just after midnight and said she’d gone into respiratory distress. This didn’t click in my head. I hurried to hospital, but suspected nothing. When I got there she was dead. I didn’t believe the doctor and nurse when they told me and argued with them profusely. A short while later, they took me to her room, and I saw her body.  It was obvious she was gone. They asked if I wanted to call someone, and I refused. I didn’t want to bother anyone, as it was now about 1 a.m., so they sent a chaplain. I didn’t want him there, but there he was. I was trying to reason it all out in my head and told him I knew my mother wasn’t there. I knew her body was the only thing remaining, and I wasn’t sad for her, but I was sad for myself. I knew my mother wasn’t there, but I still wanted to kiss her cheek and run my fingers through her hair. I was grateful for that opportunity. The next day I had to make all the calls to family and friends and arrangements for her body to be transported back to Louisiana. I had to arrange for my son to be taken out of residential care so he could attend the funeral with us. I was in complete shock. I remember crying in spurts, but not that much. None of it seemed real. My sister and I planned the funeral and stayed the week after to take care of the necessary things. I still didn’t comprehend what had happened. I was never angry with God for taking her too soon. I doubted myself. Were there things I could have done differently? I still prayed every day and went to church. My life went on, and I began to grieve.  Things were hard, but I began to get better. Then a little over a month ago I became more depressed and began to and wake up and go to bed crying again. I stopped praying, and going out the house unless it was necessary. I didn’t lose my faith, but became rather apathetic toward the idea. I would try to go to church and get ready and not be able to leave the house. Grief was taking over my life. I called Jamey and asked for some help. He put me in touch with some different people, and I found a grief counselor. She said the amount of love you had for the person lost was equal to the amount of grief you would feel at their loss; this made sense to me. I know learning to cope with my loss will take time, but I will be able to cope. My mother and I were extremely close. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother, and I’m grateful to God for sharing her with me. I’m grateful to have the capacity to love someone as much as I love her, and I’m grateful she loved me as much in return. Some people are not that fortunate.

Jamey asked me to write this, and I immediately agreed. Shortly after, I thought of this passage, Matthew 11:29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. There is a hymn called “Come Unto Me.” We sang it in church regularly growing up, and it speaks from this scripture. I remember sitting next to my mother as she sang the alto parts of this song. This is a wonderful scripture, and Jamey has used it often. I think we could all take it to heart. It has especially great meaning for me at the present. I need to get back to his teachings and not be crippled by my loss. I hope to see you at Canvas soon.

Carla Haynie

I’m tired. I have a long list of things on the docket for this week. I’m feeling quite unorganized and not at all churchy. (Thank goodness on that one.) I realize drinking Mtn Dew a few hours before bed is a recipe for disaster in the sleep department. So I’m sitting here, my mind is racing. I’m planning worship in my head for several weeks out when it hits me. I hate church. I hate the rules of church. I hate that people get so caught up in their ideas about church, and in creating rules for how church should be done that they create boundaries and walls that exclude entire segments of our population. While yes, technically we are a church at canvascommunity, I hope we never function as one. Before you go further in this little rambing girls thoughts, read this blog:

http://blog.sojo.net/2011/06/24/wanted-an-uncool-church-of-distractions/

So back to me hating church. I hate what we “Christians” have made church. When I think of the church of Paul’s day, I think of folks gathering with their friends in their homes. I think of those same folks sharing a meal and stories of hardwork and perseverance. I think of a stranger meandering through town, and ending up in the home on the street that “left a light on” for them. I think of that stranger moving quickly out of the “stranger” category and into the category of “friend”.

Today, that might look like a home group. An accountability group. A group of people attending Monday night worship, and then going to dinner together after. A praise team laughing during the creative process of learning new music for worship. The interaction of the ministry team. I have a friend who says she doesn’t attend church. She takes part in a faith community. I think she shares my feelings about church. You see where I’m going?

It takes a conscious effort to maintain any type of community. Even more in a community with diverse personalities and leadership styles. One person can literally destroy a community with attitude or unkind words. “It only takes a spark…” to create a safe haven, and that same spark can burn it to the ground. The type of “church” described in the above linked blog is what I signed up for when I decided I wanted to be involved in church. I have been “in” church my entire life. It wasn’t always a conscious decision. Now it is something I mostly look forward to. Mostly.

There are still “real people” in church with their ideas of how things should work and strong personalities to match. Real people with real flaws. I’m one of those people. I’m not perfect. I’m willing to admit that I fall WAY short of the glory of God more often than not. I make bad choices. I’m moody at times. I make really bad choices. (Monday night I had the biggest piece of birthday cake. A corner piece. I ate it in front of my trainer. He made me work it off the next morning. Bad choice #5,985.) There are days when I fall flat on my face. There all also days when I’m “right on the mark”. Today I’m somewhere in the middle.

I don’t like when people are mad at me. I’m a dumb junior high girl in that respect. I get my feelings hurt easily. People are inherently good. People have great intentions, for the most part. I realize that part of being in an “uncool” church means I might have something I say or do taken out of context. People might even question my motives. This next statement isn’t going to make sense to most people who know me well. I get accused (often) of being cold and unapproachable. I’m neither of these things.

In all honesty, I’m quite an introvert. An introvert who happened to study vocal performance. An introvert who still get nervous when she sings. I also help lead worship. I’m always “on” when I’m doing my “job” in the church. I’m on as soon as I set foot in the door. I know that when people watch me they see me as the lead singer, or the girl who does harmony when Craig takes the lead. I’m also the girl who has on her mind the next thing to be accomplished. That next thing happens immediately after worship. I have to make a conscious decision to go talk to people. Not because I’m unapproachable, but because it means I have to put aside my to do list and my selfish nature and do something outside of my comfort zone.

I’m uncool. I get in a rut. I stick to what is safe and comfortable. I’m working on it. Monday night one of our littlest members wandered over to the stage. If there had been drumsticks in his sight, he would have gone straight for them. I could have allowed that innocent curiosity to derail me. I didn’t. Instead I invited him to join me. I convinced him to let me hold the microphone. I held him and talked to him. And if he had been a tad less squirmy he would have been on my hip while we sang the final song. I hope someday soon we can all say “I’m un-cool, distractions don’t bother me, this place feels like home, and it suits me just fine.”. Care to join me in that sentiment?

Posted by Canvas Community UMC at 6:22 PM

2 comments:

852d5a6e-a462-11e0-b670-000bcdcb8a73 said…

Sometimes introverts, like myself, have a hard time finding where they fit in. When you aren’t part of the “group”, you sometimes feel awkward. All “communities” have different kinds of personalities that make up those “communities”. Some are more outgoing than others. Some are very quiet and struggle with reaching out. Like myself. I love coming to Canvas. I feel like Jamey has prepared his sermon just for me. It always touches me and makes me think of things in my life I need to different. I decided to join Canvas not because of a moving sermon I heard. I had attended many months before I joined. It was when I was sitting in a waiting room of a hospital while a friend was having a procedure done. There were members of Canvas there along with Jamey. It was then, that I decided I wanted to be a part of the “Canvas Family.” They were laughing, talking and just “being there” for each other. They stopped what they were doing for a day, put everything aside and were just “there”. I thought, WOW! I want these people in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I have a biological family that is there for me, but a lot of times, they aren’t “there”. If that makes sense. Sometimes the best gift you can give someone is just your time. Most of you that read this, won’t even know who I am. I also find it hard to get out of my comfort zone and be outgoing and reach out. Sometimes it’s easier, due to past experiences, not to. I love my Canvas Family. ONE of my favorite parts of Monday nights is when Sheri ends her prayer with “Keep us from the things that keep us from you.” I am sure I probably misquoted it. But that saying always gives me a little more strength to make it through the week. I always try to remember that you never know what someone is struggling with until you put their shoes on for just a minute. It’s such a great feeling to have a place to go to that doesn’t care what stories your shoes might have to tell, they just love you anyway.

July 1, 2011 9:20 PM

TAB said…

I was brought up in a Church that taught me that I was going to hell for everything I did. Fear God, Fear God! Drink alcohol, listen to rock music or partake in anything “Wordly”. When I turned 18 and left my parents home I intended on never returning to any sort of organized religion again. The year 2010 brought a lot of unexpected events to my 40+ years of life. Never in my adult life had I been so hurt, sad and discouraged. I had always remained spiritual but not really close to God like I should have been. I began to search for a Church to visit when I saw an piece on the news about this Church in downtown LR that was opening their doors to the homeless. That sparked my attention. I have always been passionate about the homeless and have always attempted to help over the years. When I lived in Capital View Stifft Station I would cook large pots of soup and serve them from my front porch. After moving away temporarily I worried about them often. Hoping somebody was looking out for them and praying that God was watching over them. Since the day I walked in to CanvasCommunity I knew what Church was really suppose to be and what true Christians looked like. These people got it right and I am proud to be a part of this community!