Why I'm not giving up social media...on purpose

The words of the reckless pierce like swords,

but the tongue of the wise brings healing.

~ Proverbs 12:18

 

Just the other night, I contemplated giving up social media.  For good.  Having just read a vicious thread on a public school system media page in which the adult participants accused one another of stupidity and racism, I lay on the couch listening to the Officer read aloud yet another thread among Christians regarding gun control.  As the thread progressed, it also became increasingly judgmental, malicious, and ended with scripture-hurling bullying.  I was disappointed; and pointedly reminded that only a few short months ago, I was engaged in exactly the same type of discourse – thus I was clearly in no place to judge anyone then or today.  But, having experienced what my actions brought about, I knew I didn’t want or need this kind of negativity to be a part of what I ingest daily. 

Upon hearing my proposition, the Officer reminded me that we primarily use our social media outlets to keep our out of town families in the loop with photos of our kids; so giving it up entirely wouldn’t really work.      

Thus, I decided to apply my chosen one word to my social media channels.  I needed to use these tools to bring God glory, to invite others to know Him more deeply, to share His love to a world in such desperate need of it.  In previous times, when prompted thusly by a pastor, I posted daily scriptures.  And while I believe that God does work in those posts¹, I didn’t want to force it.  I had to consider, also, that a good number of my friends aren’t interested in God’s Word at all.  Thus I assume my scripture posts would be skimmed over, if not hidden entirely, and would eliminate my ability to be someone who genuinely cares for them.

 

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths,

but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.

 ~ Ephesians 4:29

 

It was then I remembered a two-line note someone sent me months ago, for the sole purpose of encouraging me.  This individual and I have yet to meet in person, yet s/he took the time to let me know I was heard and valued.  Even more recently, a friend with whom we’d been out of touch for a while, sent me a message encouraging me in a very specific way – at the exact time I needed it most.  His words buoyed my spirit and reminded me of the truth I was struggling to grasp at that moment.  There was the epiphany: overcome the malicious content of social media with good.  With encouragement, with grace, with love. 

 

To be purposeful with my social media this year means:

·         Engage in NO debates [see Thursday’s Tuesday's* post for the parameters of this one]

·         Post updates that are TRUE [not inflated, self-aggrandizing versions of truth], honoring to God and my family, and embody the spirit of GRACE

·         Use my time on these sites to encourage others through public praise or private encouragement.

 

Yet, because I so easily fall into the trap of cheering on those closest to me – the easiest ones to compliment – I have also set the following goals for purposeful encouragement using my social media:

·         Send PM’s to whomever is on my mind that day – I will be prayerfully considering who to contact each day, and trusting that the Holy Spirit’s timing [assuming that I’m really listening] is perfect

·         Write or tweet an encouragement or praise to one person daily

·         Do this for all my acquaintances by December 31, 2013.

 

Thus, if you’re my Facebook friend or if we’re connected on Twitter, you can expect an encouraging word from me…within the next 12 months. 

I can’t help but wonder: what if we stormed social media, not with our opinions or what we ate today or how many miles/reps we completed, but with love and encouragement and kindness?  What if we overwhelmed all the negativity and vanity and evil with grace and kindness and goodness?  What if we drown out the anger and malice with an out-pouring of love and gentleness?  What if we dedicated ourselves to purposefully encouraging one another, finding little ways to genuinely communicate that people have value and worth, are cared for, and are deeply and eternally loved? 

That would be an excellent use of social media – and an outlet I’d be eager to partake in.       

 

                                                                                                                                                                                    

1.        I can’t count the number of times someone else’s scripture was exactly what I needed the exact moment they posted it

*As it turns out, I'll have to only post once a week -- this semester is already shaping up to be an exciting busy and formative one.  Thanks.

 

Shifter's Compass Recovery Program

I will say it again: I’ve been unsettled in my heart of late.  My compass (not my True North) has faltered and is spinning erratically.  I am dizzy with indecision, weary of the incessant pummeling of a particular external entity, and deeply saddened by my increasingly predictable response.  There are days when I simply want to stay at home and hide.  Yet, because I know who I follow, the God who Sees Me, I know that this, too, shall pass.  I merely need to recover my orientation, regain my footing, and restart my journey.  And though it will require discipline on my part, it is not something that I alone can do – I will need the Holy Spirit working in me for this to be accomplished.  But I am ready to recover my compass. 

Do not think that I have lost my faith; on the contrary, what I am loosing are my false theologies, idols that I didn't realize wheren't representative of the One True God.  Thus, while my faith is being sifted, I can see it is being strengthened even  as I type.  But I will not deny that this is a season of shifting in my soul.  A separating of chaff from wheat; a refining of what is true and a melting away of what is insignificant.  It is because I can recognize this season that I can equip and arm myself accordingly.  Thus, I have purposed to engage in a more liturgical discipline over the next month, so that I might taste and see what the Lord has for me, even amongst these ashes. 

A beautiful former mentor wrote a prayer, one that I have been praying [at least in part] daily.  She calls it the “Shifter’s Prayer.”  It is, as is so much of her work, art.  And insight.  And deeply personal, because in it she allows for soul shifts that recognize that God is still God, even while I’m being redefined in and through Him.  I have included it below, just in case anyone else out there is being sifted.

I also recently purchased the Common Book of Prayer and beginning yesterday, I purposed to follow the offices therein.  That I might recognize that I am a part of something far greater than myself; something even greater than myself and my relationship with Jesus.  I am a member of a world-wide body of believers (both temporal and heavenly) who recite these prayers, who keep these offices, who need the same grace and the same mercy from the same God as I.  So that I might lift my eyes from my personal shifting to see, quite frankly, that the world does not revolve around me. 

It should only ever revolve around Christ Jesus.  For the glory of God.  Forever and ever.  Amen.     

a shifter's prayer template  by Kathy Escobar

God, i used to think you were... (any qualities of God that you used to really believe)

i used to be able to say to others, to myself... (one or two phrases that you were sure

of in your faith)

when i read the Bible i used to feel... (several feeling words)

now i sometimes feel... (several feeling words)

oh, how i miss... (several things you miss about your faith before)

but God, i'm trying to lean into the present, to experiencing you in new ways.

i see you in... (several areas of your life where you are seeing God somehow, some way)

i feel you in... (several areas of your life where you are feeling God somehow, some way)

i hear you in... (several areas of your life where you are hearing God somehow, some

way)

i smell you in... (several areas of your life where you might smell God somehow, some

way)

i touch you when i touch... (several areas of your life where you are touching God

somehow, some way)

thank you for these gifts.

despite all the things i don't know, i can still cling to this.... (one truth that is

sustaining you right now)

and for that i, too, am thankful.

God, please keep sustaining me in these shifts.

i do want more of you in my life.

amen.

// www.kathescobar.com september 2012        

           

How a Servant is to Serve, a lesson from Mary and Martha

Martha and Mary by He Qi Chin

I’ve been Martha.  Not in the way you’d expect, the doing-all-the-things-because-I’m-a-beaver manner.  But in that I feel this unexplainable weight to meet the androcentric expectations of my more patristic brethren.  I’ve held my tongue, when I knew it was not what was being required of me at the moment, in settings where more traditional believers facilitated the gathering.  And I’ve relied on men to speak for me in similar settings, when I knew my job was to speak up for myself, or on behalf of sisters who had been belittled into silence.  I’ve hastily back-pedaled when asked if I desire to or was teaching God’s Word; and I’ve looked demurely at the floor, dying a little bit on the inside, instead of challenging the ideals spouted by denominational leaders. 

I’ve been Martha.  Distracted too much with the worry of how other people will react to my intentions or actions, to sit at my Master’s feet and quietly, though publicly, declare that I will be His student, so that I may be a teacher of His way to others.  Worried about the hard work of having to defend why I think what I’m doing is scriptural, why women should be permitted to behave thus.  Worried at the reaction towards my husband, who leans a little more closely to the traditional way of doing things than me.  Worried that my ministry or my voice or even the person for whom I’m advocating might suffer unnecessarily for my brazen speech.  Worried with the details of service, of how things will come off; because these events will reflect on me as a leader and my ability thereto.  Worried.  To the point of distraction, so that I’ve missed my Master’s presence in these beautiful moments. 

And because of this, I find that I might have more in common with Martha than Mary.

The Sisters at Bethany: Luke 10:38-42

As we mentioned on Thursday, By sitting at Jesus’ feet, Mary is signaling her intention to become a teacher herself; and Jesus declares that she is right to do so.[1]   However, if this is the sole intent of this narrative, Mary’s theological education comes at the expense of Martha.[2]  To counter the seeming unfairness towards Martha, Veronica Koperski proffers the theory that it is not Martha’s busyness that is being chastised, but her anxiety.[3]

The weight of this idea falls mostly on the translation of the Greek verb “diakouew” from verse 40.  According to Klaus Hess, in this particular passage, it means “service at a table;” however, this word occurs 34 times in the New Testament and in every use except this one, it implies “service, office, aid, support, distribution (of alms, etc.), office of a deacon.”[4]  In fact, Koperski contends that because of its usage in other New Testament passages, it is “not exclusively associated with table service, and the text gives no indication that a meal is involved.”[5]  In particular, she references a later passage in Luke 22:25-27 were this word expresses “the epitome of Jesus’ mission” and notes that “Jesus does not actually serve a meal, but charges his disciples to adopt the attitude of ‘one who serves.’”[6] Warren Carter asserts this position, noting that

in six of its eight occurrences in Acts diakonia indicates leadership and proclamation on behalf of God or of the church and the gospel.  In two of the six the administration and provision of material relief for those in need are indicated without separation of these tasks from the tasks of leadership and proclamation.  Partnership with others in the acts of ministry pervades all eight texts, as does the sense of ministering as the representative of God or of the church…thus [it] does not designate domestic or culinary activity.[7]

The question then becomes, why in this instance only does this verb refer to waiting tables?  Is it only because its subject is specifically female and could therefore offer no other service?  If this is the case, certainly Jesus’ words that Mary has choose the better portion indicates that becoming his student trumps domestic obligations.  On the other hand, both Carter and Koperski contend that Mary and Martha were involved, at some level, in local church leadership.  Carter posits that Martha’s anxiety stems from the exultant doing of this ministry, while Koperski attributes the worry to her feeling of being pulled away from her service therein, by the disapproval of others.[8]  While both theories certainly place more weight on Martha’s potential ministerial duties and make her seem less like a petulant child, neither can be adequately proven from the text itself. Yet, neither can a simplistic outburst concerning the unfair distribution of domestic duties.  What remains are Jesus’ words that Mary “has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her” (10:42). 

Thus however you read this particular word for service, as domestic in only this one instance or as service for the kingdom, the good portion for which Mary is lauded is: being aware of her Lord’s presence, of abandoning what is culturally expected to spend her time with him, soaking up his presence and his teaching even if it is socially unacceptable.  Because those are the only things that will sustain a servant of any ilk. 

I must encourage you: sit at Jesus’ feet, soak up His presence, and learn from Him through reading God’s Word.  Be prepared to share what you have learned, to freely give what you have freely been given.  And when societal boundaries seem to rise up against what you’re doing, cross them.  Like a rebel who hails from a kingdom where your King delights in eliminating the walls that keep us from Him.    

Enjoying this study?  Here's a link to other articles in this series: The Women Who Knew Jesus

---

[1]Wright, N. T., Bishop of Durham.  “Women’s Service in the Church: The Biblical Basis.”  Conference paper for the Symposium “Men, Women and the Church,” St John’s College, Durham, September 4 , 2004.   www.ntwrightpage.com/Wright_Women_Service_Church.htm
[2]Veronica Koperski.  “Women and Discipleship in Luke 10:38-42 and Acts 6:1-7: The Literary Context of Luke-Acts.”  A Feminist Companion to Luke.  ed. Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff, 161-196.  New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002, page 183.
[3] Ibid, 195.
[4] Colin Brown, ed., New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, vol 3 (Grand Rapides: Zondervan, 1986), s.v. “Serve, Deacon, Worship,” by K. Hess.   
[5] Koperski, “Women and Discipleship,” 183.
[6] Ibid, 182.
[7] Carter, Warren. “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen: Luke 10.38-24 Again.”  A Feminist Companion to Luke.  ed. Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff, 215-231.  New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002.  Originally published in CBQ 56 (1996): 264-280, page 222.
[8]Carter, “Getting Martha Out,” 230; Koperski, “Women and Discipleship,” 185.

To Pray or to Do, that is the question

What do you do in a state of absolute panic?  Or utter desperation? 

Isabella by James Christensen

I have two people, my most absolute core, upon whom I can call at any moment.  In any situation.  One will spring to action, delegating and orchestrating, walk me through each step of the what-could-possibly-come-next scenarios.  And I know that when we hang up, or finish our frantic texting, she’s praying.  If she wasn’t already.  The other, because of geographic locale, will put down the phone and in that instant hit her knees.  They are one of her least favorite features; but I think they are her most beautiful.  She fights so mightily on them, she wields such remarkable power because of her willingness to bend them.   

To be clear, neither reaction is superior to the other.  I need both.  I need someone to remind me to breathe, and who will repeat until I believe it, “you’re okay.  You’re okay.  You’re okay.”  Someone who tends first to the immediate, physical needs of my person.  And then prays. 

Jesus did that. 

And I need someone to hand every shard of what I’m experiencing over, immediately, to the only One who can help.  Someone who sees the depth of need in my spirit, alongside the threadbare workings of humanity; and calls upon the mighty name of God for respite.

Jesus did that.

Thus, let me first encourage you.  Whatever your knee-jerk reaction to another’s suffering, be it of the fixing variety or the pray-it-out flavor, it’s okay.  Do that.  Do first what comes without examination.  If you’re a pray-er, then by all means, pray!  If you’re a doer, then do!   

Pray.  Do.  Both of these are exactingly displayed in the incarnate ministry of Jesus Christ.  One is not greater than the other.  Do not neglect these practices on behalf of your fellow believers.  I cannot express the relief in receiving these gifts, action and prayer.  Each, in a unique and meaningful way, ministers to our holistic person: physical and spiritual.   

When you are overwhelmed or desperate, I pray that you have someone who tends your physical needs and someone who carries you into the throne room of God, interceding on your behalf.  And when you have the opportunity to be a warrior or servant for another, I pray that you rise up to fill that role.  For the beckoning of the kingdom resides in the mouths and hands of His servants.  And the glory of the King is made manifest in the words and deeds of His people.               

When the coffee's gone cold

I quit coffee a few months ago.  It was time.  Recently, though, I’ve been wondering what always draws me back in.  Why do I crave it?  It wasn’t the warmth; tea steps in rather nicely.  It wasn’t the caffeine; after it was gone, I felt better than before.  So, was it really just the liquid; or could it be something different entirely?   

What I have discovered is that coffee, for me, pivots on relationships.  It’s the cozy cup I hold when listening to the joys of best friends.  The drink I offer before tears flood beloved eyes, hoping the tangible warmth can be enough in those moments. It’s the excuse to see beautifully familiar faces again.  It’s the catalyst for getting to know new friends.   It’s the steaming liquid beside my journal and Bible, when it’s just Jesus and me.  When I can talk, openly, and He listens; when I grasp it in my hands, and really hear what He’s telling my heart. 

All of this beauty, all of this truth, all of this life,

poured out and shared over

such a simple liquid canvas.

At the end of a semester, the close of my first year in grad school, I’m craving coffee.  Not for the caffeine jolt [though the boost for finals wouldn’t be terrible], but for the vividness in those together times.  For the listening and being heard that happens around it.    

This season has been a trying one.  After so much involvement in ministry and the lives of people I’ve grown to love dearly, I’ve had to pull back, to withdraw from quite a bit of community.  I’ve had to be extremely selfish with my time, and how it’s spent; and I have felt the greed of it tugging in my heart more often than not.  I’ve spent most of my time learning, which is entirely different from listening.  I’ve spent a good deal of time forming opinions and presenting them, which is very unlike being heard.  And while it has been a season for exponential growth in my spirit in an expansive place, one in which my heart could grow into a new freedom; it has been a bit weary.  Lacking, just a bit, in the vibrancy of community.

A cup of java might just soothe that weariness away; let my spirit unfurl, and shake out stiff feathers.  If this is the case for me, how much more so is it for others?  Because, for all my self-imposed isolation, I have my core of people who won’t let me disappear entirely.  They keep calling, keep inviting; keep asking, even if it’s only a two-minute conversation, how I’m doing.  And they mean it.  And I know I’m loved.    

Which makes me wonder if love can really be as simple as saying, “let’s grab a coffee.”  Would that approach to community, to joining the lives of others, would that make a difference?  If instead of living horizontally-socio-economic lives, we spread our coffee times out among all the different strata of poor, rich, young, old, healthy, sick, believers, non, urban, rural.  Could we change something in this weary, lonely world?  If we looked one another in the eye, over a cup of joe, and said “you matter to me.”  Then shut up and listened.  And then let others do the same for us.

While it’s unlikely that this tiny gesture would be enough, it would be a start.  A window, opening in a soul otherwise fettered against hope or love.  I think we’re a society that is so lonely, we drive ourselves mad with distractions from this racking sadness pervasive in our hearts.  Everyone’s talking, but no one’s listening.  We all ache to be heard, to be known; but no one takes the time to truly know others.               

Perhaps a good cup of coffee could soothe some of that weariness away.  And open the door, just a bit, for love to break in to lonely and dying hearts. 

Are you willing to try to be that change with me?  Recognizing we won’t change the entire world over night; but hoping that we may change just one day for just one person. 

Look around today.  Whose existence is calling out to be noticed? 

          Who could you start to know, over a cup of coffee?

    

What the quiet teaches

I have a tongue that needs stilling.

That barbed, venomous weapon I wield so deftly against the ones for whom I have the greatest love, of whom I am charged with care and keeping.  My tongue rends hearts; scarring, cutting, leaving marks that can’t be seen, or undone.   

Monday, I tried to keep my tongue behind my teeth.  Little feet dawdled.  Little hands sought play instead of the tasks that propel us out the door to school and life.  Little eyes locked with mine in flat-out defiance.  “You-can’t-make-me-brush-my-teeth-if-you-can’t-talk.”  Shoes were missing, breakfasts sat uneaten; running up and down the stairs was more pressing than getting-out-the-door-so-we’re-not-late.  And my wild gesticulating, rigid fingers pointing from packs to little backs, miming the next steps, brought only quizzically cocked heads.  And more rebellious immobility.

I broke.  I opened my mouth and used my most effective weapon.  I stood, less than 2 hours into my fast, and smashed little heart pieces with the force of my words, the outpouring of my heart.  Little eyes bulged.  “You’re talking.  You’re not supposed to.”

“You promised God.”

How many times have I promised God?  How many nights have I lain in bed, lamenting the day?  Please, Father, give me another chance tomorrow.  A chance to love them better, the way you love me.  A chance to speak life, a chance to use words that build up; a chance to love better. 

And every time coming up short. 

A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.[1]

But that’s what Lent does.  It takes all my promises and strivings, and shows me where I come up short.  Lent is about dying.  It strips away at human effort and strength, until all that’s left is what’s underneath.  Rusted, rotting places that have to be uncovered in order to be worked on.  Lent is evidence of outward failure and destruction, so that the soul-bones beneath can be exposed and healed.    

God’s promises outlast mine.  God’s promises are fulfilled.

That’s where Lent leads.  To blood.  To the cross.  To a death. 

Human striving is never enough.  It all ends in death.  Lent leads us not only to death, but through it.  Through to the resurrection.  Through to life in grace.  

 A promise fulfilled.   

Glass promises, from my lips, will always break.  But universe-fabric promises will hold fast; because Love does not break.  The promise of Jesus’ life in exchange for mine.  For yours.  An absolute-eternal vow. 

Him for me.  Him for you. 

Love for brokenness.      

Life for death.  This is the way of Lent. 

---

[1] Luke 6:45