Gifts from Protestants: Hymnody

One of my tropes on this blog has been to rag on my evangelical background, and there's a lot of good material there. However, I have neglected to mention the good things. One of the best things that Protestant churches have to offer is their music.

To be clear, I'm not talking about this:

I'm thinking more about this:

Or this:

Or this:

If Catholics are looking for music to add to their repoirtoire, they could do worse than composers such as Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts, and the many anonymous authors of Negro Spirituals. Of course some lyrics may have to be tweaked for doctrinal reasons, but there is a wealth of musical and lyrical talent buried in the typical Protestant hymnal.

On another day I'll tell you why Protestants have such a rich history of music.

Cleaning up My Own Crap

This evening I had a mind-changing conversation with my husband over health insurance. (Stick with me here). As we both cried, as I tried to apologize for forgetting to mail a check almost a month ago, as he tried to express his feelings of hopelessness, the Holy Spirit hit me in the head with a two-by-four, because apparently that's what it takes.

In a flash, I remembered my wedding vows, and it occured to me that those weren't only for my husband. I too had promised things in that ceremony. I know, it's shocking.

You see, in the course of my legitimate health problems and depression, I forgot about responsibility. I believed, with the fervency of a True Believer, that depression was a valid excuse for neglecting my health, my marriage, my friendships, my work, and any other duty or relationship in my life. And if a small voice ventured to disagree, I shot it down with woe is me histrionics that ended in suicidal fantasies, pulling my hair out by the roots, and other constructive behaviors. In addition, I had convinced myself that my husband's job was to put up with it all, because after all he had taken those vows didn't he?

There is more than one way to leave your spouse. There's the one we see in divorce courts, but there's the one I grew up watching my parents model for me. They are still married in a technical sense, and they still live in the same house. But anyone who knows them at all knows it's a farce. The lack of mutual respect is palpable.

I thought that because I'd married "better" (that is, we're more compatible than my parents, though total opposites in many ways), that we'd weather the storm. However, I asked him to do all the weathering. And now he's starting to crack under the pressure.

What's so humbling is that the things he asks of me seem so small. To take care of myself; to get up at a reasonable hour; to make friends locally so that I'm not so dependent on him for social interaction; to get exercise and fresh air; to put in the hours at my job that I need in order to finish my work. You know, to act like an adult.

It's true, part of my problem is depression. Depression/ anxiety/ PTSD make those "simple" tasks seem monumental. However, I threw in the towel before the depression had a chance to attack. My self-respect shriveled so low that I drifted through life, emerging occasionally to decry injustices on the internet rather than face my own problems.

What does God ask of me? The simple and boring, the acts of love that they don't talk about in women's magazines, the daily duties that require perseverance rather than sprints.

A Daybook - For the Sake of Blogging Something, Anything

Life has been topsy-turvy, and my husband's job situation is in flux, and my sleep routine is so screwy that I find myself up at 4 a.m. and asleep at 11. No, I don't have a baby. 

OK, that's all my excuses out of the way. Really, the reasons I don't have a sparkling clean apartment or a committed prayer life or an updated blog or a full work schedule or a dedicated volunteer routine boil down to two things, laziness and depression, and damned if I can tell where one problem starts and the other begins. 

Thankfully, I also adhere to the following principle: if something's worth doing it's worth doing badly. Onward! 

Patron saint of internet quoting out of context

What I'm listening to....  Road Trip Hip Hop station on Pandora. (If you incorrectly thought this post would be spiritually edifying, now is your queue to flee). Especially anything by OutKast. This station has the highest success rate of motivating my butt than anything else at this time. What can I say, Nelly makes me shake my tail feather, just more in a "let's clean the kitchen" sense than a twerking one.

What I'm reading....  The Red Tent by Anita Diamant. It's fascinating and hard to put down. I don't know enough about Biblical-era Near Eastern culture to verify its historicity, but as fiction it's damn riveting. 

What I'm pondering....  Whether or not to sublet our second bedroom/ bath in our apartment for financial reasons. 

What I'm taking to my next confession....  The sin of envy, as in why are others able to have full-time jobs/ children/ happy sparkling Pinterest-worthy houses, the perverse will for others to be miserable because I am. If you've never struggled with this particular sin, I envy you. 

What I'm agonizing about....  Churches. As in, should I go to the church where my husband works even though there's a grand total of two other people our age, or should I nose around? How much/ how little can I trust others who may have some say in my husband's job and ministry prospects? How can I keep from wistfully wishing I could still attend my old parish in DC, understanding that God wants me here, not there? 

What I'm thankful for....  Seeing a baby flying squirrel at my last venture to a Savannah bar with friends. He was either someone's pet or soon to become one and submitted happily to being held. I wouldn't touch it because I have a well-developed fear of rabies, but the critter was too darn cute for words. 

He wasn't this plump, but just as darling

What I enjoyed about Halloween.... Everything. Halloween is an amazing holiday, and now that I don't attend a Southern Baptist school or Calvinist church I can celebrate it with gusto. My husband, who has never done anything half-way, dressed up as Awesome-O from South Park for a costume party. I went as Medusa. His costume was completely homemade from cardboard boxes, pipe cleaners, and speakers connected to an iPOD (he actually got it to play The Final Countdown). Mine consisted of a foam green Medusa hat from Target with snakes going everywhere, but it was a sweet hat. 

His was better than this, but close enough

What I'm doing tonight.... A meeting with my boss, in which we'll go over the content I'm producing for a website selling IT products. That sounded more exciting in my mind. 

Have a happy November and a lovely fall! 

Prayers for a Dead Friend

14th Century Fresco, Chora Church, Istanbul

O God, who by the glorious resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ destroyed death, and brought life and immortality to light: Grant that your servant Elsie, being raised with Him, may know the strength of His presence, and rejoice in His eternal glory; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

For our sister Elsie, let us pray to our Lord Jesus Christ who said, "I am Resurrection and I am Life."

Lord, you consoled Martha and Mary in their distress; draw near to us who mourn for Elsie, and dry the tears of those who weep.
Hear us, Lord.

You wept at the grave of Lazarus, your friend; comfort us in our sorrow.
Hear us, Lord.

You raised the dead to life; give to our sister eternal life.
Hear us, Lord.
You promised paradise to the thief who repented; bring our sister to the joys of heaven.
Hear us, Lord.

Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to you our sister Elsie, who was reborn by water and the Spirit in Holy Baptism. Grant that her death may recall to us your victory over death, and be an occasion for us to renew our trust in your Father's love. Give us, we pray, the faith to follow where you have led the way; and where you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, to the ages of ages. Amen.

Give rest, O Christ, to your servant with your saints, 

where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.
You only are immortal, the creator and maker of mankind; 

and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth shall we return. 

For so did you ordain when you created me, saying, 

"You are dust, and to dust you shall return." 

All of us go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: 

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

(From the Book of Common Prayer 1979)

Breaking News: Mark Driscoll Resigned!

Note: some of the content below is pretty racy, so if that offends you here is your warning. There's also a great deal of misogyny and homophobia because, well, it's Driscoll.

Yes, I am excited by the news. I've already explained the general principle of why, but I'll go into specific details for my Catholic readers.

Mark Driscoll started a non-denominational church in Seattle in 1996, purposefully creating a church in a place that most deemed "unchurched" and even hostile to Christianity. By using various techniques including casual dress, salty language during sermons, and evangelism to social outcasts and the counter-culture, he built a mega-church with satellites in other states. Eventually this because the Acts 29 Network, which also planted a church in my hometown a few years back. These churches were known for their Calvinism, vital ministries to young families, and quick church plant model. They were part of a "network" but otherwise not part of any denomination, unless it's the denomination of Mark Driscoll.

For awhile, his efforts were lauded everywhere you turned in evangelical circles. Even Donald Miller's spiritual memoir Blue Like Jazz, written in the 90s, had a complimentary account of the "cussing pastor's" ministry to "fruitcakes and artsy people," a place where the religiously-burned Donald felt he could breath again. In keeping with his commitment to contemporary-style ministry, Driscoll had a constant stream of podcasts for anyone with a computer access. He and his wife Grace even authored a book called "Real Marriage" which hit the NY Times bestseller list (through nefarious means, it turns out).

Slowly, we started seeing signs that things were not kosher. There were too many stories of ex-parisioners who felt bullied by leadership, who had been shunned by congregants who got their orders from on high. These stories sounded an awful lot like cults. For awhile though, Driscoll got a pass from conservatives because he was preaching "The Truth" on gender issues, homosexuality and other hot button issues. In the past few years, that reputation crumbled. This year it came out that he plagiarized and essentially bought his way onto the NY Times list. However, the real damage was to his character reputation. After awhile, his comments about "pussified" Christian men and "pansy" pacifists were recognized as what he really thinks, not mere aberration or exaggeration.

Before his leadership at Mars Hill, he posted a series of misogynistic rants on his church website under the pen-name William Wallace. The content of these rants is shocking, even for those of us who had been following developments for awhile.

In response to a woman on the discussion board, he said these gems of wisdom:

I speak harshly because I speak to men. A woman might not understand that. I also do not answer to women. So your questions will be ignored. I would however, recommend to you a few versed to memorize: I Timothy 2:11-15 I Corinthians 14:33-35.To learn them, ask your father or husband. If you have neither, ask your pastor. If she is a female, find another church. If you are the pastor, quit your job and repent.

Perhaps she took umbrage to remarks like these: 

The first thing to know about your penis is, that despite the way it may see, it is not your penis. Ultimately, God created you and it is his penis. You are simply borrowing it for a while. While His penis is on loan you must admit that it is sort of just hanging out there very lonely as if it needed a home, sort of like a man wondering (sic) the streets looking for a house to live in. Knowing that His penis would need a home, God created a woman to be your wife and when you marry her and look down you will notice that your wife is shaped differently than you and makes a very nice home....

Can I be a gay Christian? In the infamous words of the now metaphysically challenged and likely kindling ex-pentecostal pastor Sam Kinison "How can one man look at another man's hairy ass and find love?" What an insane conversation. Every man knows you can't build anything with bolts and bolts. Damn freaks. And the pastel cashmere wearing sensible haircut clean shaven loafer wearing minivan driving suburban sympathizers contend "But they really really love each other." I love dogs, but I don't stick my tongue in their mouth and lobby congress for a tax deductible union. "But we need to be nice." What the hell for?  A man is free to knock boots with any sad hairy lump of clay desperate enough to climb in the sheets and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that total depravity is an understatement, but what the hell you want from me? Should we form some form of homo Promise Keepers so we can all climb into a stadium and hug each other and cry like damn junior high girls watching Dawson's Creek. I'd tell you to kiss my ass, but I'm afraid you'd take me up on it.

I always wanted to be a penis-home! 

He called this his "prophecy days" and assured folks that he was a kinder, gentler version of that guy. Well, I believe that they're the same person; I just don't see a change. Neither did the 21 pastors who charged Driscoll with abusive conduct. Neither did any women outside of his congregation when we heard sermons like this:

Men, I am glad to report to you that oral sex is biblical. Amen? [Amens and laughter] The wife performing oral sex on the husband is biblical. God’s men said…Amen. Ladies, your husbands appreciate oral sex. They do. So, serve them, love them well. It’s biblical, right here. We have a verse. “The fruit of her husband is sweet to her taste and she delights to be beneath him.” I’ll tell you a story, if you don’t tell anyone else. [Laughter] Of a man who started attending our church because of oral sex. [Laughter] So many of you women come to church, I think in your country [Scotland] it’s 60 or 70%, “My husband won’t come to church he doesn’t have any interest in the things of God and doesn’t’ see why church would apply to him.” We had a woman like that come to our church, she became a Christian, her husband was not a Christian. He hated the church, wanted nothing to do with the church. She kept browbeating him about Jesus. “You need to get saved. You’re gonna burn in hell.” He had no interest in that. So finally I was teaching a class on sex, and she said, “Oh, so oral sex on a husband is what a wife is supposed to do.” I said “Yeah.” She said, “My husband’s always wanted that but I’ve refused him.” I went to 1 Peter 3. I said “The Bible says that if your husband is not a Christian that you are to win him over with deeds of kindness. [Laughter] So go home and tell your husband that you were in a Bible study today and that God has convicted you of sin, and repent [Laughter] and perform oral sex on your husband and tell him that Jesus—Jesus Christ—commands you to do so. The next week, the man showed up at church. [Laughter, clapping] He came up to me, and said, “Uh, you know, this is a really good church.” That handing out tracts on the street thing—there’s a better way to see revival, I assure you.

His sexual obsessions notwithstanding, the scariest things came from those who formed entire support groups to help each other after leaving Mars Hill. They said the church acted like a prototype cult: lure you in when you're new in town and lonely, provide an instant family via small group assignments, fill up your free time with "work for the church," require new members to sign an extensive "covenant," and intrude on all your personal decision making. And if you step out of line, your name might get put on a shunning list on the church website and email list. Perhaps the last straw for many was in 2007 when Driscoll fired the executive board that was meant to be a check on his authority and installed a group of yes men.

I feel sorry for his wife and kids. Hell, I feel bad for him, in that many of his quotes and actions indicate someone in dire need of counseling. But mostly I am overcome with relief that, for now, he is no longer able to bully anyone but his immediate family. 

What Not to Say to a Pastor/ Priest's Wife

"Honey, I don't mean to be forward, but.... are you pregnant?"

Quickly followed by:

"Oh my, I didn't mean to imply that you have a little pooch.... I think it's just the style of dress."

What I wanted to say in response

Request for Prayer

Without going into details, I ask for your prayer for myself and my husband. We are going through a very difficult time, partly related to his ministry. For the next nine days I'll be doing a novena to Mary undoer of knots. I've never done a novena before, but let's just say I'm desperate. :) 

In whatever way you can, please pray for us. 

Pope Francis' prayer: 

Holy Mary, full of God's presence during the days of your life, you accepted with full humility the Father's will, and the Devil was never capable to tie you around with his confusion.

Once with your son you interceded for our difficulties, and, full of kindness and patience you gave us example of how to untie the knots of our life. And by remaining forever Our Mother, you put in order, and make more clear the ties that link us to the Lord. 

Holy Mother, Mother of God, and our Mother, to you, who untie with motherly heart the knots of our life, we pray to you to receive in your hands (the name of person), and to free him/her of the knots and confusion with which our enemy attacks. 

Through your grace, your intercession, and your example, deliver us from all evil, Our Lady, and untie the knots that prevent us from being united with God, so that we, free from sin and error, may find Him in all things, may have our hearts placed in Him, and may serve Him always in our brothers and sisters. Amen.