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when you think of mother teresa, what words come to mind? for me, i think of “poured out, deeply connected to God, amazingly humble, willing heart, in love with Jesus, filled up. sacrificial love” among many others. i am pretty sure “doubter of God”, “overwhelmed with emptiness”, or “tired of never getting His help the way she wanted” were not words i would have used to describe her. it’s sort of old news, but the recent release of mother teresa’s private letters has been rumbling around Christian & nonChristian circles in the past few months. I heard the story earlier this year, that during her decades of ministry she only had a few good weeks where she really felt it. the rest of her journey she didn’t feel God the way she longed to and experienced deep spiritual dryness that was agonizing.

here are some of the things she said to a trusted confidante:

“The more I want him — the less I am wanted”…..”Such deep longing for God — and … repulsed — empty — no faith — no love — no zeal. — [The saving of] Souls holds no attraction — Heaven means nothing — pray for me please that I keep smiling at Him in spite of everything.”

and in some private letters to Jesus:

Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me?….The Child of your Love — and now become as the most hated one — the one — You have thrown away as unwanted — unloved. I call, I cling, I want — and there is no One to answer — no One on Whom I can cling — no, No One. — Alone … Where is my Faith — even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness — My God — how painful is this unknown pain — I have no Faith — I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd in my heart — & make me suffer untold agony. So many unanswered questions live within me afraid to uncover them — because of the blasphemy — If there be God — please forgive me — When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven — there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives & hurt my very soul. — I am told God loves me — and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul. Did I make a mistake in surrendering blindly to the Call of the Sacred Heart?

the question is, does this comfort you or freak you out? i think for me, it’s a combination of both. it is so comforting to know that i am not alone in the darkness, that someone far more spiritual & powerful & poured out for God than me doubted just as much (maybe even more!) than I sometimes do. when i doubt, which is often, i hear this ugly little voice in my head that says “you loser, you have been a Christian for a long time and look where it’s gotten you. if you had more faith, you wouldn’t be in such a crappy spot. if you just bore down on the scriptures & started praying harder you wouldn’t be here to begin with. you must be doing something wrong to feel so disconnected from God. what do you need to confess or pray against so the bad feeling will go away?” i could go on and on, it’s all a little psycho inside my head when this starts to happen. i think if most of us are honest, we all have these sorts of thoughts to one degree or another (i think those of us who were trained in the evangelical-think-truth-and-then-it-will-become-your-reality strains have a greater degree of shame when we doubt). or maybe i’m the only one and you are all saying behind my back “what is kathy’s problem?” (yeah, that’s my next psycho thought after the first round…)

what is interesting to me about mother teresa, one of the most revered and beloved spiritual women of this century, is that she didn’t share these thoughts publically. they were in private letters. her interior world and her outside persona were two different things. i understand and respect her dilemma, and we do not have to go around sharing all of our private moments with God with everyone we meet. at the same time, it made me wonder why she was afraid to be more honest in public—would her ministry have been questioned? would she get reprimanded by the powers that be above her and encouraged to get her spiritual act together fast? would she have lost some of her following? i have no idea and because she’s so revered i feel a little guilty even questioning any of her motives, but i guess i am just questioning why her outside & inside had to look so different?

the heartbeat of the refuge is real authenticity, our outside & our inside being integrated. that means we say some of the crazy things rattling around in our head which can sometimes be quite unsettling. and we do this even though we are pretty certain that people (especially Christians) like positives! what sells are results—10 steps to this and 8 simple ways to that. the power of positive thinking, praying, living, eating, you name it. all of these things will get you reconnected to God in no time. no one likes to focus on the negative. i don’t, either. but i do like to focus on the truth. and the truth is that sometimes i am mad, tired, and wondering when-the-hell-i-am-going-to-hear-from-God-so-i-can-feel-better. and despite my doubts, i do believe Jesus came to bring us life, real life, a depth & fulfillment in ways that are sometimes so unexplainable. but i am trying to learn to embrace that real life, real relationship doesn’t mean that i never doubt, wonder, question, get angry, or feel like walking away. in fact, ingredients of real intimacy with God (and people) include all of those things. what i like about mother teresa’s journey is that even though she doubted, questioned, shook her fist, cried out, and sometimes wanted to walk away she did actually stay in. she kept pouring her heart out to God and lived out her passion for the poor & unloved as best she could. she didn’t lay down and die. she didn’t disconnect from life & community completely. she didn’t run the other way. she stayed in.

at the refuge, sometimes it is so clear that life gets harder than we hoped. we long for the easy road, some kind of escape, a short cut, some way to feel better quick. i believe wholeheartedly that Jesus and the crazy unexplainable movement of his spirit in our lives is the answer. but i guess i am reminded today that it doesn’t come quick, it doesn’t come easy and we are in good company with the saints when we doubt, question, and aren’t feeling him like we so desperately long for. i guess what i hope for me—and for all of us—is that we keep staying in.

a few days ago i got sucker punched for having ovaries, if you can believe that. i was in atlanta at the big christian retailers conference to launch a book that I co-authored that is just being released. it is a women’s bible study/journaling tool in a magazine format and it’s pretty cool. check it out here. (this isn’t the actual cover but an older version that ended up going out earlier). anyway, some of it’s me, some of it’s not me, but the essence–a tool for women that addresses our real story, what’s really going on in our relationship with God & others instead of pat, surface answers—is, in my humble opinion, a desperately needed voice in the Christian market that is saturated with simplistic, bumper sticker answers to some complex and painful issues. (plus, it’s kind of fun to have someone want you to write something for them and actually pay you for it!)

during the whole gaggle of getting it ready for promotion in december, it turns out the publisher couldn’t print that i was a pastor in the material because some of the salesmen said they wouldn’t be able to sell it to the by-far-the-biggest christian account (with southern baptist roots) with a woman pastor author. I am not kidding. if I had any other title in the whole wide world it wouldn’t matter. it’s just because I am called pastor, that is the word they can’t tolerate if there’s not a y chromosome with it. I fought the battle with the publisher (new hope, they are great by the way, but really underestimated how crazy the system really is on this one) and ended up losing. they decided to not mention I was a pastor in the bio. there was nothing for me to do about it, really, i used my voice, advocated for what i could, and had to just let it go or pull out of the project, and I had invested countless hours writing the tool part and it just felt too bad to walk away. i understand they had profits to consider and wanted the book to have the best possible shot and without that biggest book order, it was going to be tough.

so, here we are 7 months later, I have mustered up getting excited about it despite how weird it has felt (it’s like telling a teacher, we can’t call you a teacher because it might offend somebody). they paid for me to fly to atlanta, stay in a great hotel, and all of my expenses to launch it. i have been on my best behavior, trying to make the most of being at a conference filled with the marketing of Jesus. it’s been a little hard on my soul but I was so happy being quiet in my hotel room reading eat, pray, love by elizabeth gilbert and catching up on my zzz’s, that I didn’t even mind.

well, i found out toward the end of the conference, that the retailer—lifeway christian stores—still refused to carry it. even though it isn’t printed in the book, they now know I am “one of those women pastors” and it is against their doctrinal beliefs. what is so gross to me is that automatically because I have the title pastor, have something to say to our little faith community, I am theologically anti-biblical and immediately disqualified. it’s ugly. disgusting. makes me want to throw up. but after the initial shock and trauma (1 hour before our book signing where I needed to be extra perky and happy. I saved my tears for later) I just felt relieved. all of my ranting and raving about inequality, injustice, ugly evangelicalism is not unfounded. I am not crazy, I am not making this up. it is alive and well in the year 2007 whether anyone wants to believe it or not.

so what can I do? what can you do? well, I hate to pick on you, boys, but it starts with you. women can stand on the tables and shout out “don’t you see?” but really we need men to understand how engrained this injustice is and intentionally make sure they are not subtly buying into the system. I am grateful for the refuge because karl, mike, john, kevin, paul—as members of the leadership team–have openly embraced that we are equal. girls’ anatomy doesn’t preclude me or any of the other women on the team or in our community from anything. they see the value of diversity, where young and old, women and men, married and single, divorced and widowed, all have something to say. I never, ever feel discriminated against at the refuge. every man who is part of our little crazy community, whether they realize it or not, is changing the tide of an unjust system just by their presence. (thank you guys, I love and respect you all so much….). you can also go to a lifeway store near you (they’re mainly in the south but are a few in colorado & california) and ask for refresh, ask why don’t they carry it and ask them to order a copy for you. new hope would love for them to see a blip get on their radar.

but bottom line is this hub-ub has been a catalyst for me to stay on this journey, to do what I can to just keep being, well….me. i readily admit, some days i just want to give up, throw in the towel, and say okay, jackasses, you win. i’m out. you can have your church and eat it, too. but i am too much of a fighter and it is so not Jesus’ heart that half of all people, that those with a passion for his message, the Kingdom, for the poor & oppressed wouldn’t be able to have a voice or role as a pastor or shepherd or leader because they happened to have a different chromosome combination.

like racism, the only way to change things is to not stand for it anymore. I believe as Christ-followers, we must visibly show the world that sexim, racism, classism, and exclusion is not the Way of Jesus. God, help us be an instrument of change, hope & healing in this really messed up, sexist, racist, egocentric, classist world (and sadly, church)

KARL: The following picture was given to me by a friend. It was an actual part of an invitation to a mens prayer breakfast. It was not a joke.

KATHY: When Karl sent it to me, I thought for sure it was just someone being funny out there. That, I can handle. But then the thought that this is actually an image for a men’s prayer breakfast invitation all of a sudden made me a little sick. I’ve been hearing about a movement in some men’s circles in churches, an effort to remind everyone Jesus was really a “kick ass” God and good Christians should kick a little, too.

KARL: No use ranting on the demise of Christianity and all of that, I have been having some fun with just captions. Honestly, I can not stop. It somehow captures everything I have come to hate about church and Christian culture. Stay tuned, I am hoping to discover a “speedo Jesus” but till then, here are a few of mine:

KATHY: how about…

So, we invite you to join the fun, write a caption or comment.

“Where’s Jared? You brought him home, right?” We had been home about 20 minutes from a team basketball party at a restaurant and were mindlessly sitting in the living room watching the end of American Idol when Jose looks up from his computer and asks again, “You brought him home, right?” I immediately leaped out of my seat in a complete and utter panic. No, I don’t remember bringing him home! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I have got to go get him right this minute. My 7 year old is stranded alone in the parking lot! It’s dark. It’s cold. Somebody call the restaurant! Where are my keys? Who cares about shoes or coats or absolutely anything else in this moment. The only thing I can think about is getting to Jared as fast I can. My response is purely visceral. No words can describe my thoughts and emotions. My baby needs me. I am in a panic while I hear Jose calling the restaurant and I am almost out the door when one of our other kids says “Jared’s here. He’s asleep in Sadie’s (our dog’s) bed.” I start to cry. I am overwhelmed with relief. The fog slowly lifts, and I begin to remember he was in the car when we left the restaurant!

I know you are thinking, so how could you not remember that??? But when you have five kids running to and fro and five voices all blending together, let me tell you, it’s easy to forget. It takes hours for the adrenaline to wear off and of course we have a story to laugh about and yet another reminder that mommy needs to keep a little bit better track of who she’s in charge of.

I would sacrifice almost anything for my kids. In that moment, my reflex was go. I didn’t think “oh, what an inconvenience” or “he can figure it out on his own and doesn’t need me” or “I would rather be watching American Idol right now.” The absolute only thing I could think about was getting to him. Me, my, mine was out of the equation.

And I was reminded how little I really live in that selfless place. The place I live most is in a world of me’s. What works for me, what I like, what I don’t like. What I’m willing to do. What I’m not willing to do. My self-centeredness is more evident to me probably than anyone else but it’s there, it’s my natural bent. Sacrificing my time, dropping everything for another human being, being willing to lay aside my life, my ways, my desires to “be Jesus for someone else” doesn’t come naturally. In fact, everything inside of me screams against it. But in that moment, when I thought Jared was alone in the cold, it was a no-brainer. Sacrifice didn’t feel like a sacrifice.

In John 15, Jesus says “there’s no greater love than he who would lay down his life for a friend.” And what does it mean, to lay down my life? I think laying down my life means I’d be willing to run out the door when someone is in need, willing to give up American Idol and spend time with someone who is lonely, desperate, hurting. That I’d get beyond my to-do list and show up at my kids school unexpectedly to show them how much I love them. That I’d give up needing to win an argument or be right or be noticed or praised. That I’d get beyond just my desire to serve others and actually spend time feeding the hungry, offering water to the thirsty, giving my stuff away instead of hoarding it. That I’d spend less of my thoughts thinking about what other people think of me and pray for others instead. It’s giving up some of the me’s, my, and mine’s for my friends.

Okay, sounds good, but why is it so hard? It’s just unnatural. What comes naturally for me is to live in my own little Kathy world. And in my little Kathy world I value status, I treasure my to-do lists, I like to be in control, I like things to basically go the way I thought they’d be. Remember, I have a carnival in my head where I am the main attraction (see previous blog). Laying down my life for my friends means I have to give up these things and rely on God, to trust mystery, to do things that never get noticed, to be flexible, to give up my self-centered way for His others-centered way. Thinking about Easter this week, Jesus gave it all up for us. All of it. But what I love about Jesus is that He didn’t like every aspect of His sacrifice. He didn’t say “hey, this is the greatest thing ever, it’s a piece of cake.” He wrestled in the Garden of Gethsemene with God, crying out “do I really have to die?” knowing His sacrifice was going to mean pain and suffering.

We’re not Jesus, and in our case, the honest answer is we don’t really have to. I can live in my own little Kathy world all I want and God will keep loving me. But I’ll miss out. I won’t get to experience the joy, the hope, the freedom, the peace, the purpose, the passion that comes from laying down my life for my friends.

Christmas. Everyone responds to this time of year differently. For some, it’s a great season filled with food and family and happy memory-making. For others, it’s a time of dread. Money’s tight or nonexistent. The reminder of losses—of loved ones, jobs, relationships, faith– sets in. In the season where we’re supposed to feel joyful we sometimes feel loneliness, anxiety and fear instead. The “reason for the season” gets lost in the reality of life and we just try to bear down and make it to the new year where our resolutions await and we might get a fresh start.

Christmas is a time, honestly, where things don’t feel too equal. Those who have money and jobs get presents. Those who don’t, can’t. Those who have intact families—or some semblance of one—get to be together. Those who have broken families, no family, exes who make things hard, or weird inlaws get to manage through that mess instead and often end up alone or angry. Some people have tried all year to get a job, keep a job, enjoy a job, to no avail while others are soaring up the corporate ladder getting one raise after another. Others are worried about gaining some extra pounds over the holidays while others are fighting for their lives battling cancer or trying to stop using drugs. Some people are happily married while others are still reeling from a painful divorce. Sometimes it just doesn’t seem fair.

In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s not fair. I don’t know where I got this crazy idea that life was going to be fair. And even though I know life isn’t, I still desperately want it to be. And fairness in my little pea brain usually means equal. Equal means we all get the same—the same blessing, the same help, the same hope, the same attention, the same _______. You fill in the blank. But of course I only want equality when it comes to the good things—money, possessions, jobs, influence, God’s “blessings.” I can do without equality the other direction…I mean who wants health issues or job losses or bankruptcy or more pain? I am learning, the hard way, that life isn’t fair. And life isn’t equal, either. Some of us have harder roads, others have easier. Some have deeper pain and loss, others just haven’t experienced some of the more life-defining struggles. One isn’t right and the other’s wrong. One’s not better, more important or more valuable. It’s just different. And to somehow try to explain why in the world God has made it so complicated is utterly impossible.

But this Christmas here’s what I keep clinging to—His ways are higher than mine and what’s unfair here on earth somehow gets made right in heaven. Jesus loves me as much as he loves the next person. And that’s not dependent on anything I do or don’t do or they do or don’t do. He doesn’t place greater value on any of us because of our looks or power or money or Bible knowledge or status or lack thereof. That’s a man-made thing. But God says to all of us that we are His treasured possessions and that when we get lost, He’ll go searching for us.

On Sunday we looked at the Story of the Lost Coin in Luke 15. It really was a simple gift from Jesus, a reminder that we are equally valuable in His eyes. Worth searching for. Fighting for. Celebrating for. Do you believe that? Most days, if I’m honest, the answer is “yes, if….”. I feel valuable when I’m doing the right things and I am staying “on top” of my life (doesn’t happen too often). When I’m lost–struggling to gain back some of my past fervor for God, controlling my life instead of trusting God, feeling sad and alone or full of shame for some stupid mistake I made–I’m not feeling too valuable.

But Jesus reminds me in this passage that my lostness has nothing to do with His value for me. In fact, it is just the opposite. He’ll turn the tables to find me not because of anything I can do, prove, muster, or mess up. It has nothing to do with my circumstances, how hard or easy my life is going at the moment. I don’t always understand His “finding”. Sometimes I’m like “hey, God, are you sure you are looking hard enough?” but then, when I take a closer look, I notice that usually it’s me that misses His looking. I am distracted by all of the things that are wrong and easily miss the things that are right—the small things to be thankful for, the simple and subtle ways God is saying “See, here I am. I’ve been looking for you.”