Posts Tagged: ‘Love’

Things I Wish I Had Learned at 24 (instead of 42)

9 April, 2010 Posted by liascholl

Loving what you do is really important. But so is a paycheck.

Real, abiding love takes commitment and compromise, and is much easier to find and do before you become a crotchety old woman.

Boundaries are important, and you should always take your time learning to trust people. Make sure they deserve it.

A life ruled by “shoulds” is no fun, but a life ruled by “because I want to” is not too rewarding. Balance.

Love and partnership is important.

Acceptance and gratitude are the greater part of love.

If I Were the Architect of the Church. A sermon.

13 October, 2009 Posted by liascholl

This sermon was inspired by a spoken word poem at Ted.com, called Rives Controls the Internet. The sermon, which was done at a rapid pace like spoken word, was followed by communion where the communicants took the phrase, “If I were the architect of the Church” and said how they would make it theirs.

If I were the architect of the new Church, not the old church, we’d have no tired old Sunday school and Training Union and Wednesday night suppers and Stewardship Sundays and Deacons meetings and church councils and capital campaigns and mission trips,

But it’s new church, with love and care and hope and more love and care and hope and then a little more love and care and hope mixed in. The only thing I’d take from the old model is worship and a lot of fried chicken.

If I were the architect of the new Church, no one would get God wrong. In fact, Church wouldn’t tell about God. You would instead tell the Church about the kind of God you serve. And your God would overlap with my God, in some very lovely ways, but it would be okay if your God was different from my God.

If I were the architect of the new Church, the Pastor would no longer be the holder of secrets. You’d never keep to yourself that you’re going to lose your house, that you’d had an abortion, that you’re going through a rough patch in your marriage, that you’re gay, that you’ve lost your job, that you’re waiting on test results, that you’re sad, or lonely. The pastor’s job would be to help you share your secrets. Because the pastor knows that you’re not the only person going through what you’re going through.

If I were the architect of the church, you would know that the balance in your checking account doesn’t determine your worth as a human being.

If I were the architect of the new Church, the budget would read so differently. We’d pay for salaries and space, then we’d have a budget line where everybody wrote about all the wonderful things they were doing with their money so that we would know that our church was making a difference in the world. One person would be feeding the hungry, one person would be digging water wells, one person would be buying cows, and another fixing the ozone layer. Our missions budget would be through the roof, but it would be through your roof, not ours, because it would come out of your budget, not ours, and we’d be changing the world through our actions.

If I were the architect of the church, we wouldn’t mess up our children. We would understand that our kids are going to grow up with some gaps, but as a community, we would help fill those gaps. And when our children became different than us, we’d get to see how great they are, through the eyes of the community, because communities see better than individuals. And when our children grew up and turned back to us, saying, “You messed me up!” we’d smile, know that they needed to say it, apologize, because they need to hear it, and offer ourselves compassion. And we’d extend compassion to our kids.

If I were the architect of the church, we wouldn’t have marketing campaigns, we wouldn’t target people, we wouldn’t need to pay for advertising. There’d be no us and them.

If I were the architect of the new Church, you’d be the expert on theology, on life, and on God.

Oh! Wait!

You already are! But that’s just it, isn’t it? I’m not the architect of the church. You are!

Sabbath

28 August, 2009 Posted by liascholl

I’m taking a break this weekend from Twitter. I’m hoping to find that it will make me more creative, more productive, and get me away from the computer.

And then, of course, it’s Friday night and I’m writing a blog post.

I thought I’d share this song from a book by Marshall Chapman, called Goodbye, Little Rock and Roller.

It doesn’t matter
Where you’re coming from
It doesn’t matter
What damage was done
We’re all on a journey
Our goal is the same
We’re gonna be happy
Like children again
So be your own parent
And treat yourself good
It’s never too late
To have a happy childhood

I used to think freedom
Meant running away
And love was a feeling
That never would stay
I searched this world over
But I never found
A big enough shoulder
To muffle the sound
So cry if you need to
It might do you good
It’s never too late
To have a happy childhood

Some never make it
Some never try
Some try to fake it
Some barely get by
Survival is easy
It’s living that’s hard
And it takes lots of courage
Just to be who you are
So do what you love
Not what they say you should
It’s never too late
To have a happy childhood

Yes! Yes! and Yes!

26 January, 2009 Posted by liascholl

My friend, Malcolm Marler, is the chaplain at the 1917 Clinic in Birmingham, Alabama. The 1917 Clinic is an HIV/AIDS clinic, and Malcolm has been working to provide compassionate care for folks with HIV/AIDS before treating them with compassion was cool. Malcolm pretty much rocks.

He wrote this in his blog today:

One day I was asked by one of our nurses if I would talk with a single mom in her 30’s in one of our exam rooms who was recently diagnosed with advanced HIV disease and “was crying a lot.” I seemed to get called for a lot of these situations.

I walked in, introduced myself, and sat down.

She could hardly talk through her tears. After a few minutes she stopped her tears and blurted out, “I just want to know the answer to three questions:

1. Does God still love me?

2. Will anybody ever love me again?

3. Will I ever get another hug?”

I think Malcolm is on to something here, when he goes on to say that these are the questions that we all ask every day. Does God still love me? Will anyone ever love me again? Will I ever get another hug?

I know it’s what I wonder when I look at pieces of my life…

Those are the questions that I ask when I really look deeply into who I have been, who I want to be, and how I have been. They are the questions I ask when I start thinking about my history and sharing it with people. And they are the questions I ask when I put myself out there in a new way, whether in a new relationship or a new job search or a new position.

I want to believe that the answers are Yes! Yes! and Yes! But even more than believing with my head that the answers are Yes! Yes! and Yes!, I want to feel in my heart that the answers are Yes! Yes! and Yes!

That is my prayer today.

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    Lia practices radical acceptance for those who the church has vilified and shamed. It's not just something she preaches, but something that she really tries to reflect in her life.

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