22 Aug

Christian Community Saved My Faith

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Brokenness, Community. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , .

whatsavedmyfaithI’m joining the synchroblog for the release of A Christian Survival Guide: A Lifeline to Faith and Growth by answering the prompt: ‘What saved my faith?’

One of the darkest times in my life was before I had my son and I wrestled with God about my infertility. What saved my faith in that time were my faith communities. I wrote more about that in an older post about coping with infertility. Here is an excerpt:

Even when I’m mad at God, I need the support of my faith communities.

It was a big turning point for me before we had our son when I finally asked to be added to the church prayer list for my infertility concerns. I had told one or two people in the church, but most people had no idea. When I asked for prayer it became public. I was nervous at first, but my church family at the time held my prayer need with utmost respect.

When I am struggling in my faith I am particularly glad for corporate worship and liturgy in particular. Even if I can’t pray, the community of faith carries me through their prayers. Churches who do liturgical worship are accused sometimes of “just going through the motions.” I have to tell you though, when infertility plunged me to my lowest point, those “motions” were all I had. Reciting liturgy that I have memorized, that I know by heart allowed me to pray when I would not have otherwise been able to pray.

One thing that helped me also was when my congregation and other supportive faith communities became aware of the pain of infertility. Due to awareness about infertility, my church family prayed for couples who cannot have children on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Before I had my son, fellow members of an online discussion group for Pastor’s Wives made a point to show sensitivity when sharing about baby news.

What saved your faith? Write your own post answering that question and then visit http://www.edcyzewski.com to learn how you can join the synchroblog or to read additional posts to celebrate the release of Ed’s book A Christian Survival Guide, which is discounted on Amazon this week.

P.S. I got to chat with Ed Cyzewski about A Christian Survival Guide for the Life & Liberty podcast. Listen to our chat here: http://www.davidhousholder.com/a-christian-survival-guide-ed-cyzewski/

14 Aug

Humor & Depression

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Brokenness. Tagged: , , , , , , .

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I was in the airport getting ready to board a plane when I saw the news about Robin Williams’ death. I gasped and clapped my hand to my mouth to muffle my groaning, “No!!!!”

I was so shocked and terribly saddened to see that light go out.

Too many lights go out.

Then I kept watching the TV Screen. Suspected suicide. History of depression.

“But,” people say, “he was so funny…so…happy…how could he be depressed?”

Oh, I know exactly how to be funny and depressed. That is my life.

I smile and laugh and joke because, well, I think I have a knack at being funny, of course. But also? I gotta find some way to cope with this damn depression.

Because blackness, dark, dark, dark gets really old and grows very heavy. So I make light of whatever I can whenever I can.

Pluswhich, I think my depression rather skews my take on the world such that I’m just a little quicker to spot life’s little ironies and hilarities. And caring is sharing, so I say the funny things and get the laugh.

Everybody likes that person.

The dark of “what’s the point of getting up today?” just doesn’t go over as well at the old church potluck.

That time I actually thought, “I just want to go throw myself down the stairs,” doesn’t really come up in polite conversation, no matter how nice people are.

And I promise you, the funny girl thing is not an act. I really am that funny. I’m not pretending when you see me smiling and laughing. That is genuine Jennifer.

I don’t hide the depression so much as I just try with all my might to ignore the hell out of it when I can muster it.

And when I can’t muster it, those are usually the times I am not even around other people because I’m just trying to survive until the next minute.

I don’t claim to speak for Mr. Williams and what he experienced. There’s already too much speculation about everything related to his death.

But when people are puzzled that humor and depression can be so intwined, I can offer my own experience as a “case study.” Damn it.

2 Aug

Leaders: Are You Too Sexy for Your Church? So Sexy it Hurts?

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Brokenness, Community. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Too Sexy for Church

One of my pet peeves among ministry colleagues is when they say, “I know it’s not the most sexy aspect of ministry,” about some unsung part of church-work. It has become a popular turn of phrase–almost a cliche–to talk about something in terms of how “sexy” it is.

Colleagues I know and deeply respect have said it. I won’t name names and I’ve lost track of who and how many. Just if you happen to be one, I’d like to suggest that you stop using the term “sexy” to refer to anything related to church or ministry. What follows are my reasons.

 

Four Reasons Faith Leaders Shouldn’t Use the Term “Sexy”

 

1. Stop the Obsession

Our culture is bombarded enough already with sex in advertising, sexual innuendo, sexual harassment, and sexual abuse. Too much. We as church-workers can do ministry just fine without making it look “sexy.”

It’s true that some aspects of ministry may seem a little ho-hum, but even the great moments don’t have to be “sexy” to be worthwhile.

There are so many other ways to describe ministry highlights: mountaintop experience, a holy moment, a God thing, serendipitous, great teamwork, etc. Please try saying what you want to say a different way.

 

2. Keep it Safe

Associating ministry with sex at all is just disturbing. People need church to be a safe environment not a sexualized one.

Unfortunately, sexual abuse by faith leaders happens.

Oftentimes predatory faith leaders will “groom” others beginning with small, seemingly innocent words or touch to desensitize them to the wrongness of their advances. Other times faith leaders will promise that sexualized talk or touch will have a spiritual benefit for the parishioner.

These behaviors are way out of bounds and just plain wrong. Faith leaders should never attempt to sexualize their relationship with parishioners in any way.

 

3. Words Mean Something

So you’re not a predator, you’re not “grooming” anyone. To you it’s just an analogy. But what you think of as a harmless analogy may trigger unwanted sexual thoughts for others.

I get that people use this term without intending to sexualize the church environment, but words matter and you can’t just throw around the term “sexy” without somebody thinking about sex.

And by “somebody,” I admit I am one; I’m very visual and yes, I’m going to go there in my mind…and I won’t hear another word you say.

 

4. Stop the Objectification

I don’t even like the term “sexy” when it would be more fitting because it represents a highly objectified view of sex.

I teach my son not to refer to others as “hotties” or as “sexy” because those terms treat people like objects.

Saying someone is “sexy” is saying, “I want to have sex with that person.” Such an announcement is often made with no appreciation for the personhood of the one desired or a relational context for the fantasized consummation.

Sure, most people want to be seen as attractive, even desirable, but we’re whole beings, not just play things.

 

I’m not opposed to sex. And I’m not saying that the subject should be off limits in church; in fact I think there are good and helpful ways to talk about healthy sexuality in our parishes. I just don’t think the term “sexy” accomplishes what it is intended to accomplish when used to refer to church or ministry happenings. The term itself is just a little too sexy for church–so sexy it hurts.

20 Jul

Heeding the Signs

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Brokenness, Inspiration. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , .

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Oh, there are signs. We see them. We know what they say, what they mean. We even know they’re right and helpful. But do we heed them?

There has been some road construction on the highway that goes by our house. I drove through it a number of days ago.

There were signs up that warned of “Loose Gravel.” And indeed, when I drove through the construction on the first day, I had to drive very slowly on account of said loose gravel.

On the second day of construction, I got in my car to drive into town. As I was driving down the driveway toward the road, I noticed one of those “Loose Gravel” signs. I recalled how loose the gravel had been the day before.

I drove right up to the road and paused in my driveway to wait for a break in traffic.

Once I finally had my chance, I did as I’m used to doing and I pounced on the accelerator. You see, our driveway is not level with the roadway; we have a steep climb right at the end of our driveway to get up onto the road. I have to really give it the gas to get up and out.

But only, this time, when I gunned it, my tires didn’t grip right…because they had gotten caught up on some…loose gravel.

And I thought, gee, I sure wish someone would’ve warned me about that gravel being all loose like that. And all at once I remembered the construction and I looked up and noticed that “Loose Gravel” sign once again.

Oh, someone had warned me. But I forgot. I knew there was loose gravel. I had even seen that sign just minutes before my tires spun out.

The same type of thing happens in my spiritual life more often than I’d like to admit.

Just today something a friend wrote reminded me of a lesson that the Lord has been trying to impart to me repeatedly over the last several months. And every time I get these kinds of reminders about that particular lesson, I say, “Yes, Lord. I remember you telling me that before.”

I know the lesson pretty well on one level. I get what the Lord is trying to tell me. I know it is right and it is for my own good.

I hear the reminders and I know they’re true.

But then? Then, I forget.

All at once I forget and I revert back to my old ways, to what I’m used to doing instead of heeding the Lord’s message to me.

The old ways are so ingrained and it’s hard not to do it those ways. I mean, like putting the pedal to the metal to get out of my driveway, I do what I’ve always done in my life as well. I do what has worked for me in the past even when God has showed me clear signs to do it a new way.

I know I’m not perfect at heeding the signs Lord, but I thank you for providing them so generously. I do see them; I need your strength to obey.

18 Jul

Is it Inconceivable that I Still Have the Crib?

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Brokenness, Family. Tagged: , , , , , .

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Everyday as I move about my house I walk past crib parts. It has been many years since my one and only son (who is now 10) has slept on that mattress. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to give the crib away because I’m still holding onto hope that I might still have another baby.

You may be wondering why I walk past crib parts everyday.

Well, we don’t have a lot of storage in the old farmhouse where we live. So, we use our enclosed back porch to store what used to be in the garage or attic in our last home–including crib parts.

This porch also serves as a major thoroughfare in our home, so I end up walking past the crib parts many times a day.

Most of the time those crib parts fade into the background–the way things often do when you go past them everyday.

But sometimes a June bug will dive-bomb that way and call my attention to the crib parts. Or I might have to retrieve an item from that storage area and I’ll notice the crib parts idling there.

Even when I do notice them, I don’t always feel moved to write about them. But I noticed them today and it punctuated a lot of what has been on my mind lately.

With the Hobby Lobby verdict about contraception coverage becoming such an uproar, the idea of “conception” has been on my mind a lot.

As a differently-fertile American, I want to go on record as stating that I am pro-conception. My challenges in conceiving lead me to confusion–even lament–that contraception is considered “essential.”

I know, I know, family-planning is very personal and I’m not begrudging anyone the option of using contraceptives. All the same, having this issue in the center of public discourse has triggered a lot of feelings for me.

Added to that was the realization a couple weeks ago that it was 11 years ago this month that my son was conceived. I know the exact date of, um, the act that led to the conception because I was tracking everything fertility-related back then. As that “anniversary” came, my mood–my heart–sank.

Then, I was bummed when my “cycle” started last week. I started taking better care of myself and my cycles resumed last fall. So that made me think that maybe I might be able to have another baby.

So, I keep hoping that this will be the month my cycle doesn’t start on account of becoming pregnant!

Each time a new cycle starts it is a mix of good news and bad news.

It is good news that I am having regular cycles because when I wasn’t as healthy I wasn’t having my cycles.

But it is bad news because it means I’m not pregnant. Again.

So when I brushed up against the crib mattress today, I thought about the crib. And I thought about my ambivalence about having more kids.

I have thought many times about giving away the crib. I have slowly given away nearly everything baby-related over these 10 years of my son’s life.

But the crib is the single most expensive item and it was a gift from my mother, so I don’t take lightly the decision to give it away.

Several months ago I was ready—really ready—to find a new home for the crib.

I was sure I was done with babies. I was certain I was content with a family of three.

In fact, I was leaning toward thinking it would be better to not have any more kids.

I remember the first time I felt such certainty—such peace with the size of our family.

I shared this revelations with dear one who also faces fertility-challenges.

“I’ve been there,” she told me.

But I was confused because she still talked like she wanted more.

“No, I really mean it,” I assured her.

“I meant it too…then.”

“Oh, I’m really at peace with this. I’m sure I’m okay with a family of three.”

She tried to explain to me how she had gone from certainty to longing and back again more than once.

I thought to myself, “She can’t really have been certain.”

I’m sorry, dear friend. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you—that I didn’t listen.

I couldn’t hear you then.

I had to protect my heart because if I really knew then that this longing would keep creeping up on me…well, I didn’t want to hear that. I couldn’t hear that. My heart couldn’t bear the thought of it.

And so, despite my “certainty,” I have held onto the crib. And in my longing I am glad—even when it is a painful reminder of how inconceivable another baby has been.

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