ElizabethEsther.com

THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST, vol. 1, issue 3

Welcome to a special edition of
THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST!

This is where bloggers gather on the first Saturday of each month to share their latest and greatest blog posts! This month we're featuring posts from
October 2009!

And as a special treat, worshipful musician Kelly Clinger is offering
her lovely new album "In Your Delay" to one happy winner!

"Kelly has a heart for hurting women and wants to share the power that Jesus Christ has had on her life. Her songs are healing and poignant."--from her bio at www.kellyclinger.com

One of my favorite songs on the album is called "What You See in Me" and Kelly told me that it "speaks specifically about my need to see myself through His eyes...and if I believe that He sees me whole, healed and beautiful then I am more likely to trust His leadership in my life."

To be entered in this wonderful giveaway, all readers are welcomed
to leave one comment per person.

The winner will be randomly selected from the comments on Monday, 11/9 @ 5pm PST

If you do not want the giveaway, but still want to participate
in THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST, please feel free to share your post as usual--without commenting.

Now, let's get this party started!

I'll begin by sharing a post of mine from last month called: Re-thinking Feminism. I chose this post because I loved the respectful, civil dialogue that took place in the comments. I learned so much from my readers. Thank you!

Now it's YOUR TURN! 

Here's how to participate:

1. pick one of YOUR posts from the past month and insert a link to it in The Mister Linky form here on my blog (remember to provide a direct link to your specific post, not your home page).
2. compose a new post at your site encouraging your readers to come check out the other great submissions and maybe explaining why you chose to highlight a particular post.

THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST is a celebration of family-friendly art, so please no links to products or giveaways. Thanks!

Comments will close @12pm PST on 11/9 and the winner of Kelly Clinger's album "In Your Delay" will be announced @5pm PST. ENJOY!

the lost sheep: a parable retold

ocean fog creeping over the Buelton hills, 75-300mm

She had been gone for several days. Yes, she had strayed. And there was talk, of course.

"It's her own fault for getting lost," somebody mumbled.

"She made bad choices," another pointed out.

"What does she expect?" asked a third. "You reap what you sow."

But the Shepherd had other words.

"She's mine," He said. "I will go and find her."

"But Master," protested a well-meaning ewe, "we need You here! Does one rebellious sheep matter more to you than ninety-nine obedient ones?"

The Shepherd shook His head, sadly. "No. She doesn't matter more. But she doesn't matter less, either."

But the old ewe wasn't done. "Master," she bleated, "shouldn't she suffer the consequences for her bad choices?"

The Shepherd turned and gazed intently at the old ewe. "Which consequences would you have her suffer?" He asked.

The old ewe shrugged, "Well, she needs to learn the price of disobedience. How else will she learn?"

"Would you have her die bloodied and broken at the bottom of a cliff?" the Shepherd asked. "Would that teach her a good lesson?"

The old ewe looked away, saying nothing.

"I'm not willing for that happen," said the Shepherd. "I love her too much to abandon her."

The Shepherd started on His way. But another sheep scampered after Him and in a low voice asked, "Master, isn't this sheep an embarrassment to you? Doesn't she reflect poorly on Your Shepherding skills? Are you sure you want her back?"

"You don't understand," the Shepherd said, "I would give my life for her. I promised never to leave or forsake her. I will pursue her because I love her."

"B-but," stammered the sheep, "she's not worthy of Your love!"

The Shepherd stopped walking and patted the worried head of his little sheep.

"Don't worry, precious one," He said. "Nothing can separate you from my love. Not height, nor depth. Not your accomplishments. Not even my lost sheep's failures."

Then the Shepherd wrapped his cloak around Himself and hurried into the hills.

He called for his lost sheep many times. For many hours there was no answer. It was cold and began raining. Still, the Shepherd searched.

Finally, in the darkest hour before dawn, He found his lost sheep. She was trapped on a steep cliff, clinging desperately to a crumbling ledge.

The Shepherd climbed toward her, calling her name and reassuring her. Using his Shepherd's hook, He pulled her to safety.

And then He took her in his arms. He didn't scold or punish her. He simply carried her all the way home.

As the morning sunshine poured across the green pasture, the Shepherd arrived home to His flock.

"Come celebrate with me!" He called to His friends and neighbors. "I have found my sheep that was lost!"

That day, even the angels in Heaven rejoiced.

For once she was lost. But now she was found.

: : inspired by today's reading @ Pray As You Go : :

don't forget to join me this Saturday for THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST plus a special giveaway!

Morning chat with the twins

Here I am on a typical morning: no makeup, hair up in a messy pony-tail, playing on the floor with my 22 month old twins. Enjoy! p.s. don't forget to join me this Saturday for THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST! i have a special giveaway planned for all who participate! YAY! :)

Land of eternal sunshine

waves on the jetty @ Corona Del Mar, Nov. '08

Southern California is land of eternal sunshine. The only way I know the seasons are changing is because the light changes.

Summer light is stark and white hot. It glances off the ocean, burning your eyes and your skin.

Summer sand is hot as coals--blazing the soles of your bare feet as you hip-hop across it.

running into the waves @ Newport Beach, summer '08

Summer sunsets are like molten lava, flaming oranges and angry reds. You feel it stinging the back of your legs as you haul umbrellas and surfboards back to your car after a long, sandy day.

But the light changes in mid-October. The air is cooler in the morning, the beaches are quieter. The light  warms the ocean cliffs with yellow gold. Autumn sunsets are languid, painting the sea pink. And the twilight breezes are cold.

sunset just north of Santa Barbara, Oct. '09

Winter light is pale and thin. You can lay out for hours without getting burned. And the sand stays cool all day.

Crystal Cove State Beach, Feb. '08

Rain storms blow in from the Pacific and the coldest days hover around 60 degrees. On those days I like to bundle up and watch the wind-swept ocean near a jetty. But I never brave the jetty rocks.

Rogue waves have swept many a soul into the roiling sea.

In late spring, the marine layer moves in--sometimes socking us in for days. All is gray. Visitors wonder if they mistakenly booked a trip to land of eternal fog. If the sun burns through the gray, the light is orange--the sky a dirty shade of beige.

The gloom can last through late June. 

Laguna Beach, June '09

And then it is white-hot summer again.

Some days I wish I could witness more signs of changing seasons: brilliant foliage, frost, snow.

But then I'd have to give up the ocean and the California sunshine.

Cambria, March '08

And I've watched too many ocean sunsets to give that up.

Not even for all the brilliant foliage in Maine.

Cambria sunset, March '08

How about you? Where do you live?
What signs of the changing seasons do you cherish?

Unsustainable zeal

my little surfer boy James, chillin' at Refugio State Beach, Oct. '09

One of the positive things about being raised in a disciplined household was that I learned to take personal responsibility for my actions.

Our lives were rigorously structured around the weekly church meetings and so I learned how to manage my time effectively. I was ingrained with a deep, unshakable sense of duty.

Eat your vegetables and salad before you eat your dinner roll. Pray and read your Bible before you brush your hair. Stand still and focus your mind on prayer and hymn singing for the hour-long worship time.

The obvious downside to this kind of lifestyle was that it bred perfectionism. As I grew older, the burden I had to carry grew increasingly heavy because there was always pressure to perform, to keep the enthusiasm whirring at full-blast, to bring in new converts.

Worst of all, there was no margin for error. To mess up, to fall short was to expose myself as spiritually weak, unfit for the service of the Lord, morally suspect.

But our zealous commitment was simply unsustainable. Eventually something had to give. I thank God that the church imploded before I did.

I probably would have driven myself into the grave because I was determined to perform my duty--no matter what.

Back then, I was convinced that my service to God was valuable inasmuch as I performed quantitatively. I took very little thought for my personal health: three babies in three years plus church ministry plus personal discipleship.

It was a recipe for burnout but I was determined to be burned out in the service of God. Because somehow, that was honorable.

I don't live like that anymore.

Sometimes people ask me how I can manage five children, write a blog, send out articles for publication and run my household.

I have no answer except that I learned discipline and household management as a young child. I hold myself to a high standard of personal excellence.

And frankly, this life I now live is exponentially easier than the one I led inside an abusive, controlling church.

Yes, I have a full life with many children. But I have found rest for my soul. And that makes all the difference.

Guest appearance on Tal Prince Live!

This Sunday evening I'll be joining Sirius Radio host Tal Prince to discuss my journey out of radical fundamentalism.

Tal writes that his show is about "transformation through openness and transparency." He regularly features stories from recovering addicts, authors, and folks with abusive pasts who are seeking a renewed relationship with God

I hope my story offers encouragement to those who struggle to find God after experiencing spiritual abuse in legalistic, controlling church groups.

The show will air live on Sunday, 11/1 @ 9pm EST on Sirius Radio channel 161.

If you don't have a Sirius subscription, you can listen to the show online by signing up for free trial.

Once you sign up, look for Tal Prince Live in the Family Net channel.

And please say a little (or big) prayer for me?

Thank you!

Have a happy, fun(die) Halloween!

last year's pumpkins, 50mm

"A Christian celebrating Halloween is like a Jew celebrating Hitler's birthday."

That pretty much sums up my childhood Halloweens.

We shut down our house every Halloween.

And by shut down I mean lock down. Lights? OFF! Shades? PULLED! Voices? WHISPER ONLY!

If we could have disconnected the door-bell, we would have.

It was our way of protesting a pagan, evil holiday.

We didn't even pass out Gospel tracks like normal Christians.

However, by the time my sister and I were teens, we had lots of homework. One Halloween we asked Mom to let us keep a light on in our room.

"Fine," she said. "But turn it off if you hear trick-or-treaters outside."

We agreed.

About an hour later, my sister spotted some little ghosts passing our house. She flipped off the light.

"Hey!" I snapped. "I'm trying to do my homework!"

And I flipped it back on.

"NO!" she hissed, dramatically pointing at the window. And she flipped it off.

"Nobody's out there," I insisted and flipped it back on.

Suddenly, from outside we heard a little kid shout: "Mommy, look! A haunted house!"

I gasped, shut off the light and we both crashed to the floor, laughing hysterically.

"SHHHHH!" my sister hissed.

DING-DONG!

Oh, dude.

We crawled out to the hall, desperately willing those trick-or-treaters to go away.

Thankfully, the trick-or-treaters didn't play a trick. Or, as we called it, persecute us for righteousness' sake.

It's taken a long time for me to overcome my Halloween phobia. I've discovered that my fears about Halloween were 3,000x worse when I cowered in a darkened corner of my house "protesting."

Now, our family celebrates Halloween--albeit minimally. We don't do scary stuff. And when my kids trick-or-treat, we skip the haunted houses. It's actually super fun and astonishingly safe (at least where we live).

Halloween is the one time each year when neighbors are willing to open their doors. It's nice for the adults to say hello, show goodwill, make a personal connection.

And it's a great opportunity for my kids to say thank you. Over and over.

But don't get me wrong. I respect and understand the Christian families who bow out of Halloween. It's cool. I get it.

Just be sure to let me know in advance so my kids don't accidentally ring your doorbell.

We'd hate to persecute you! :-D

Religious language, meaningless cliches and spiritual deafness

the 101 South (left) & the 101 North (right) @ Refugio State Beach

I couldn't read my Bible for at least two years. Every time I opened it, I heard the exact intonation of my grandfather. Remembered his interpretation. Shivered in fear.

A well-meaning friend called me one day and asked about my walk with the Lord. When I confessed to having trouble reading my Bible, she told me I was out of God's will and in danger of falling away.

I didn't speak to her for over a year. I couldn't. She didn't understand and I didn't know how to explain.

I was still fumbling my way back to God and her threatening language devastated me.

Trust the Lord. KNOW what you believe. Cling to the Cross. The platitudes were empty, meaningless.

Perhaps the greatest difficulty I experienced in rebuilding my faith was in rebuilding language. Unfortunately, my experience had deafened my ability to hear meaning in religious language. 

Our God is a consuming fire sounded like a clanging cymbal in my ear.

It wasn't that I thought these words were untrue. It's just that I couldn't understand them anymore. The question I asked was: what does that even mean?

I was often amazed at how many Christians resorted to cliches instead of expressing authentic compassion or critical thought.

When they were faced with a grief-stricken experience like mine, they didn't know what to do with me. My pain was a threat to their comfort. So they just started spitting out cliches.

Give thanks in all things! Rejoice in the Lord!

Frankly, those words were like salt in the wound.

But then I discovered that lots of human beings do this. When we see suffering, we are at a loss for words. Nothing we say seems adequate to the suffering.

We shy away because we don't know how to enter their pain.

Here's what helped me: say nothing.

I didn't need my theology corrected (still don't) or my faith questioned. I didn't need to be fixed.

I just needed someone to listen. To sit with me in my pain. To journey together. To love me.

That has made all the difference.

Because love led me back to God.

Why I hate the gym, alpine waterfalls & working out next to sweaty men

I'm on the brink of signing up for yet another gym membership. Mostly for the tantalizing prospect of taking an uninterrupted shower while my twins are in the free child-care.

I could care less about the actual exercise.

But I've been down this road before and it always ends badly. See, I just don't like gyms.

I dislike waiting in line for a machine. I dislike swabbing up other people's sweat/flu germs. I dislike working out next to men.

Especially the ones who grunt at themselves in the mirror.

I get so self-conscious in a gym that it's impossible for me to work up a sweat. And frankly, I hate sweating in front of other people.

I've tried everything: elliptical, treadmill, aerobics classes and even that most infuriating invention of modern exercise--the spinning class.

Maybe I'm just an idiot, but I can't think of anything more futile than vigorously pumping my legs and...going nowhere. Infuriating!

"Try one of the group classes," Matt told me. So I did.

"YOU'RE CLIMBING A BEAUTIFUL ALPINE MOUNTAIN!" the instructor shouted as we toiled away. In place.

"NOW WE'RE HEADING DOWN A WOODED PATH!" she yelled, excitedly. "CAN YOU HEAR THE WATERFALL?"

Some guy actually whooped "HECK, YEAH!" in response. And atheists think belief in God is ridiculous.

I'm telling you it's easier for me to imagine Jesus walking on water than to imagine a lame, alpine waterfall while crammed into a foul-smelling room with 30 other sweaty bodies.

But that's just me.

The problem, of course, is that I need exercise.

Because Weight Watchers has helped me lose 8 lbs. But I still have 10 lbs. to go and honestly, those lbs. aren't going anywhere unless I get my groove on.

Maybe I'll have to imagine lame, alpine waterfalls after all.

But I'm definitely waiting until flu season is over.

Steps for dealing with anger

steps to Nojoqui state park waterfall, 18-55mm

I used to be afraid of my anger. Nice, sweet, submissive Christian women didn't get angry, right? I hid my anger and apologized for it. I thought being angry was wrong.

Back then, anger accentuated my feelings of helplessness. I felt trapped and thought nothing would ever change. So I dealt with my anger by ducking into the nearest bathroom and muffling my sobs into wads of toilet paper.

Then I would emerge, pat my face with a cold, wet paper-towel and be all: "Praise the Lord! Everything is great!"

I dunno, maybe this is just a woman-thing. I mean, I can't imagine men having mini-breakdowns in church bathroom stalls. But then again, do men feel as helpless as women do in these kinds of churches?

Probably. But perhaps their anger manifests itself differently.

Anyway, one day several months after leaving our radical fundamentalist church, I was taking a shower and thinking about everything that had happened. Suddenly, I was overcome with raw, powerful, fist-shaking anger.

I raised both my arms and shook them violently at the ceiling. And I cussed.

"How could you?" I hissed, through clenched teeth. "How could you DO THIS to us?"

I was talking to my grandfather--the founder of our church. The one who had betrayed us all and then refused to repent.

I also felt a tremendous amount of shame. My family had perpetuated hurt upon other people. That mortified me. And even though I didn't create our toxic religious system (I was just a kid growing up in it), I felt a crushing burden of guilt-by-association.

Shame, guilt and anger. A deadly combination.

And yes, I suppose I was ranting at God, too. I felt like He had let me down, abandoned me.

After I vented, I felt better. But only temporarily. That's when I discovered the danger of anger. It wasn't enough to vent. In fact, venting only led to more venting.

What I really needed was resolution. I needed to find a way through the anger to forgiveness and reconciliation.

I needed to find peace.

Anger is a natural, human response to injury, injustice or fear. I learned that being angry wasn't wrong. But I needed to channel that anger into something productive, beneficial.

Otherwise, my hurt would hurt others. And furthermore, if I allowed anger to fester, it would harden into a root of bitterness.

I learned (and am learning) to deal with my anger by developing strategies and coping mechanisms:

1. Cool off: if I'm steamed, I need to do manual labor. Nothing cools me off better than whipping through a sinkful of dishes, folding several loads of laundry, taking a brisk walk, cleaning out a closet.

2. Prayer: before I talk to someone else about the problem, I talk to the Lord about it. I just purge out the entire mess, perhaps journaling it out. Talking with God helps me remember that human beings betraying me is not the same as God abandoning me.

3. A trusted advisor: after I've cooled off and talked to the Lord about it, I talk with someone whom I love and trust. I need this person to tell me the truth without automatically taking my side. I appreciate the objective listening ear of a friend who knows the Lord and knows me, too.

4. Action: there's a reason taking action is last. It's absolutely imperative that I work, pray and THINK before taking action. This insures that my action is not done in a moment of anger, potentially hurting others.

5. Avoidance: I avoid angry people. Since most of my anger stems from spiritual and religious abuse, I particularly avoid angry pastors (or bloggers). Honestly, I cannot watch or listen to a pastor who raises his voice, pounds his podium or even Tweets negatively.

These are a few of the ways I deal with anger in order to live a more peaceful life. The best part? Dealing with my anger enables me to help my little ones deal with their anger (ie. Jorie expressing her frustration and fear about going in the ocean!)

How about you? How do you deal with anger?