Saturday, September 17, 2011

The Beginnings of Trust

I teach the people I work with that after they have been hurt, they trust no one because they do not trust themselves; they do not trust that they will be able to tell who is safe and who is not safe. I tell them that when they begin to trust themselves, they will be able to trust their ability to determine who is safe and who is not. Only then will they will be able stop rejecting everyone in favor of only rejecting those who are unsafe or unhealthy people for them to be around.

Funny when a teacher needs to listen to her own teachings.

For me, it is a matter of trusting God. Or, trusting myself enough to be able to distinguish what is relationship to God and what is not. Interesting concept. I've been toying with it for weeks.

About a week ago, the thought occurred to me that I might be able to "experiment" with a spiritual practice similar to one I relied upon for years while I was a Mormon. It occurred to me that my style of prayer was different than the style I was taught in church. And so was my style of quieting myself so that I could "hear" spiritual communication. The experiment was that I could "try" renewing my spiritual practices for 30 days and see what happens.

I never started the experiment: lack of trust in my ability to discern, I think. Lots of fear that I could identify in myself; I've been duped. I don't trust my ability to keep from being duped again. How will I know if it is "God" or "my imagination"? So, I dropped the idea.

But once that book is open, it's hard to close it and as I've been exploring these things in myself, I'm also coming closer (I hope) to realizing where the root of the issue lies. For example, I'm beginning to doubt my own loyalty to Orthodox Christianity. I'm finding that whenever anyone outside of myself decides what I need to do or what I need to avoid in order to be right with God, I have suspicion.

In fact, my suspicion is raised regarding organized religion, in general. Because once an organization becomes "organized" enough to call itself that, it becomes a set of rules and regulations meant to maintain the organization. I interpret that this way . . . . . Maintaining the organization = controlling the "organized" people who are part of it. Then I think there is a blurring in the teachings between what is good for the people versus what is good for the church.

Of course, the church will say that what is good for the church is good for the people.

I rather doubt that.

I hear sermons with skepticism, doubting whether or not the speaker's generalized injunctions really have anything to do with me. Or whether or not I can become any more or less acceptable to God by following them. Instead, I find myself thinking that congregations are for scared people who want to believe the promises they hear in church. And the church says what the people need to hear to reduce their fears - to make them believe that the rules imposed by the church hold promise for the members. And I think the church throws things in the mix that serve to keep people in fear enough to maintain their faithfulness to the church.

A good example of this is a banner I read outside a church this morning. "Follow Jesus and He Will Make Your Dreams Come True." I don't think God works like that.

But there comes a point of tension where the discerning individual asks: "Does this really apply to me?"

An example I can think of comes from one of the few times I visited a local popular Christian church. I liked the people there. They served coffee during services (a plus in my book), but during my 3rd visit the pastor said something to the effect of if you are a "Good Christian" and if you "Love God" then you will support our walk-a-thon (by opening your wallets, of course). I supported the idea of walking, alright! By walking right out of that church and not going back!

It's a funny example, but there are many, many more. They exist in those moments when "church" is creating pressure and guilt toward one action or another while at the same time, the person with the struggle is honestly striving to live an upright life and that particular action doesn't "fit" at the moment. I may be wrong, but in my estimation saying "No" in church adds up somehow to "Not A Good Christian." Interpret that how you will . . . .

So all of this leaves me asking myself what I really believe.

My husband speaks of Jesus. He says I should just follow Jesus. But I ask, which one? "Jesus" looks and acts different from one sect to another. How do I choose to follow "Jesus" when "Jesus" is presented to me through the interpretation of "Men of The Church" - whichever church may be in question.

All of this struggle and questioning has led up to my relative ambivalence toward anything spiritual. A brand of ambivalence that leaves me doing nothing except hoping that *someday* I can punch a hole in the paper bag.

Until yesterday. I had a very interesting conversation with my manicurist. She asked me about my religious beliefs and I hinted at what I just described in this post. She responded by stating that she believes as she does because she had an experience that "no one else has." She went on to describe it to me and to state that this was proof that the church she was standing in when the "light came down on her and no one else" was her church home.

My reply? I've had LOTS of those experiences. I described a few to her. And I explained that I don't know what those experiences mean. I am certain they don't mean that the church I was in at the time was the sole custodian of God's Truth. Perhaps, it meant that God was aware of me and heard my prayers regardless of my membership in that church.

But after I told her about a few of my "nobody has those experiences" experiences, she said: "That's unusual." Everyone doesn't have that gift. It's something I've heard before. My response is that I'm not special. She responded as a few others have before: "Yes, you are. Other people don't have those gifts."

And it got me thinking. Wondering again. What would happen in I nurtured my spiritual side? What would happen if I trusted my own spiritual process? I started on that path once as I began reading a book called: Advanced Psychic Development. I stopped because someone else said: "You are not ready for that." Huh? Well, I believed I wasn't ready and stopped.

Maybe, I know some truth that is independent from organized religion. Maybe, it is independent from anyone or anything else, except what is purely spiritual. Maybe, I need to figure out what I believe. Something to think about.

Well, the night of my conversation with my manicurist, a shoulder injury was keeping me awake. I went to go to sleep on the couch so that my tossing and turning would not disrupt my beloved.

In the minutes while I tried to sleep, I started to think about the concept of a personal spirituality. And, common to all of my personal experiences that seemed to transcend anyone else's interpretation was the presence of Jesus. My Jesus. A secret Jesus that no one else has to describe or introduce to me. Not Jesus I read about. Jesus I have known on a personal level.

And in the moment before I feel asleep I said to myself. "I believe in Jesus."

What comes after that? It's my opportunity to explore . . . . .

Incessant Chatter

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