Yesterday church was unusual, not least notably because the service was a whopping 3.5 hours long. Several people seemed to be genuinely encouraged, so I kept my mouth shut. (I’ve noticed that’s a primary way of ensuring joy in groups of people.)
Sometimes my wife surprises me with her questions or comments about things. On the way home I asked her what she was thinking. She said, “I don’t know, you might be offended.” Oh man, that’s how to get me INTERESTED--say I’ll be offended. So I said, “C’mon.”
So she said, “How come every time there’s sharing and opportunity for Body ministry the men don’t have the balls to say anything?”
Lord, I love my wife. I love questions like that. That arrow flew right to its mark. It’s such a good question, because it shows she notices exactly what’s missing.
I had stuff to say. I suspect if other men had been there, they would’ve had things to say. But all the women and children who were floating around on Cloud 9 and even the pastor of the church don’t really want to hear what men have to say as leaders. Some of us are thinking thoughts that are controversial, mold-breaking, shocking, threatening to the status quo, and imminently dangerous in a swooping majestic Dark Cloud sort of way.
Maybe they don’t have the balls because they’ve been snipped. Or maybe they (and when I say “they,” I mean me) are just discontented and rebellious.
So something is missing. We tried to address it before: nothing came of it, especially answers. So rather than stir up trouble, I will remain silent.
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5 comments:
I was very tempted to drag your ass in from the car and then get a hold of the mic and put you or maybe J.R. on the spot. But I resisted because I doubt that's the way God would have it done...that'd be like contributing to the snip, snip. What's missing is blatantly obvious. I'm sure I'm not the only one who notices.
Your gratuitous use of the word "ass" is revolting...and also kinda hot.
Thing is, I am CERTAIN that those in authority do not want my questions or viewpoints to be heralded.
I'm pretty sure you know I'm not afraid of questions or confrontations. I'm not afraid of humiliating myself or enduring personal pain for the sake of trying to get to a better place in a relationship.
But get this...
Some. People. Are.
What I've learned is that you can do your best to be real and honest, but ultimately people have to meet you halfway if you're going to progress in relationships.
If one person has a 90 percent commitment to the truth, and the other has a 60 percent commitment, then you have a 60 percent commitment to work with in the relationship.
My soul hates political spin and skeletons in closets and elephants in the room and dirt swept under carpets.
Right now, in church, I'm surrounded by these things. What was already a difficult two hours to endure is now mostly intolerable. Every word rings hollow because of fear and pretense and lies of omission.
I'm telling you right now. Either me or the system is going to crack.
And it'll be me, most likely.
I don't belong in the world, but I don't fit into the church, either. Oh, I know that I am a part of the universal Body of Christ, but I don't consider myself a part of much of what I see and hear in church. I am on the outskirts, waiting on the Lord.
No one would understand all the awful exposure and bewilderment if you had put me "on the spot," because I wouldn't be able to speak about it without naming names and being very honest. And then all of it would be taken the wrong way.
I knew it'd get your attention.
It's just that if all you guys are so miserable and ended up staying and ducking out or leaving altogether, then there is no "body of fellowship" really...you just have a ladies meeting, which is nice, but it's much less than it could be.
How 'bout if I start a conspiracy where women don't say a word except to their husbands at home? It's biblical...it'd even make church end at 12:30 on the dot. Maybe it'd make our car rides home all the MORE interesting. Hahaha!
Yeah, Biblical. That'd be something novel.
And, um, church starts at 10. I scarf something down for breakfast at, let's say, 9. By 12:30, my butt's asleep, my legs hurt, my stomach's growling, hideous fluorescent lights are singing my bloodshot eyeballs, the kids are antsy, and I'm bored and angry enough to go in the men's room and crap out a few hundred galvanized nails.
The spirit is willing, I tell you, but the flesh is weak.
well hello you two...
Dear Lord Whittenberg take your discontented hind parts and speak...and loudly ...PLEASE!!!!
Dianne
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