Confessions of a Church Girl

The Pastor and Cthulhu

2026-02-08T10:57:00.001-06:00

A pastor, from the pulpit this month, mocked young adults who use nouns as verbs: He said a generation of people found the basic tasks of adulthood too difficult, crying over "adulting" because they had idolized youth to the point of mental illness.

Reality Check: New generations face societal upheaval and the loss of social structure and community support like never before.

Think that's not true?

Scientific observation reflects that technology alone is advancing at a rate exponentially faster than humankind can adapt to it. That means children are now born into a world to which they will never be able to acclimate: the rate of change is beyond human capacity to understand and integrate in a comprehensive, productive, and meaningful way.

Want the technical explanation? Our brain development, identity, and survival is based on the creation of schema, categories by which we organize knowledge about the world, and attachment, internalized experience and images of environmental constants. But change - not knowledge - is now our constant, and the rate of change surpasses our ability to create schema or internalize experience on a daily - if not hourly - basis. Authors and scientists writing about this subject warned that mass amounts of humanity would be "left behind" this technology curve. But the truth is, we are now born "left behind," born into a world that the human mind and body is biologically unable to process and adapt to. We cannot process technology fast enough to make a coherent, emotionally and mentally stable whole.

We often think we're adapting. When brains are growing and learning at their most accelerated rate, we can look like we're keeping up, but that's part of the maladaptation: we can only keep up with a sliver of what is changing, and the harder we work to maintain our edge on that sliver - an imaginary edge, mind you - the farther behind we get on everything else. Thus, we produce the coding genius whose body wastes away, who cannot navigate human interaction, or who becomes less and less capable of empathy each day. Or we produce a crop of CEO's who master momentary economic waves, make more money than they can spend in a lifetime, but all at the cost of human lives, the environment, and their own families. Wealth then creates a buffer for these people until they become less and less connected with reality and more and more driven to recreate the world in their own image, all while sacrificing themselves to the advancement and profit god that swallowed them whole a long time ago.

In fact, technological advancement is the embodiment of Cthulhu in our time: it is an alternate universe, an entity far bigger than we can fathom, and it feeds on us, our time, our attention, our sanity, until we are consumed. Yet we worship it as a god because it mesmerizes us. It is all-encompassing. It is all we know. It is the very structure of our world. And as far as we know, it's what we are here for in the first place: feeding the beast. And the puppet-masters of the world are Cthulhu's priests.

People have long written stories and still mutter about the "dangers of AI." Our mistake is thinking that AI is a physical or ideological entity, something we can conceptualize and point to, even if what we are pointing to is an abstract like the "world wide web." AI in these stories was only ever a symbol of something we intuited but could not begin to comprehend. There isn't an intelligence, an entity, or even a conglomeration of entities that are going to take over the world and enslave us. No, it is something bigger than that, and we are already enslaved. AI was the icon, the metaphor, the token we used to represent something that was happening but was too large to articulate. AI was our shorthand. We wrote scifi stories to represent a vast reality that was reordering and is reordering our world as I type. The concept of AI was to alert us to an ethic, an ethos, a mythos, one that we made and that surpassed us, creating a world in which we can no longer thrive. And here we are.

Dear Pastor: The mockery is not a generation of people clawing at a world that wasn't designed for their good but devours their hearts, minds, and bodies even while they are alive. The mockery is the man who sits in judgment of those dying all around him as if he is superior, as if he isn't dying, too.

Here, Messiah Comes

2024-12-09T22:08:00.006-06:00

Some of us have been waiting a very long time. We have never stopped believing, never stopped looking, never stopped hoping for God. We have been as faithful as we know how to be.

Will Messiah come?

Some of us have worked our asses off, frankly. We've done the right things, the necessary things, the hard things. Some of us have had the rug pulled out from under us by the very God we expected to have our backs, and we feel disoriented, betrayed, or confused. We're just trying to make sense of it all.

Will Messiah come?

Some of us have never quite found where we belong. Maybe we thought we had, a few times. We've tried over and over and over again. But it hasn't worked out. It always seems to end up the same way, in failure, disappointment, regret. We feel isolated and perhaps a little jaded in the end. We find a way to keep going, but..

Will Messiah come?

These are the stories of Anna (the prohetess, in Luke 2:36-38), of Nicodemus (in John 3:1-7), and of the woman at the well (also in John 4:4-30). But, as with many of the stories depicted in scripture, we find our stories in theirs. What did these three very different people with very different experiences have in common?

They all met the Messiah. Jesus came to them all, one by one.

Jesus came to the woman who had been looking for him, praying for him, seeking him her whole life. She recognized him and rejoiced.

Jesus came to the man who already had all the answers, who had worked hard and was doing what he knew to be right.

It disoriented him.

Jesus came to the woman whose life hadn't gone the way she had hoped. She was judged. She was isolated. She was ... surprised.

Because the Messiah came to them all -- the ones who were ready, and the ones who were not; the ones who had it all figured out, and the ones who did not.

In the first week of Advent, I was happy to remember that life, hope, salvation -- it comes for us, ready or not!

This second week it strikes me that, regardless of our stories, regardless of the twists and turns our lives take, regardless of our mistakes, our failures, our disappointments or regrets: Christ comes to us.

In other words, it doesn't matter what kind of mess we are right now, he comes. But it also doesn't matter what kind of mess we've always been, he comes. If we have lived faithfully, he comes. If we have been Pharisees, he comes. If we are living day to day just trying to make things work, he meets with us -- right in the middle of our mundane tasks. Right here. Right now.

Will we recognize him? Will we rejoice? Will we let the disorientation phase us, or will we press in ... and be transformed?

Because it is here, wherever here is, right now, that Messiah comes.

Ready or Not

2024-12-01T09:25:00.001-06:00

I'm not ready for "happy holidays," for Advent reflections, cheesy movies, or new years.

Don't get me wrong, I love this time of year. But it doesn't seem to matter how much I look forward to the season, it sidles in while I'm distracted, overwhelmed, or, you know, still in bed with the covers pulled over my head.

Wait, what's that noise? Oh, it's just the holidays breaking in through the living room window.

Eeeeek!

Maybe some of you like the way it sneaks up on you. You're in the grocery store and jingle bells starts playing overhead. You feel a little more cheerful as you drop canned goods in your cart and weave in and out of the egregious number of people standing oblivious in the middle of the aisles.

DEAR HEAVENS, PEOPLE, PLEASE STOP STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLES.

*ahem*

But maybe, like me, you feel like Advent is a houseguest who always arrives a day earlier than expected. You haven't made the bed yet, haven't vacuumed, haven't fixed the toilet or finished the laundry or built the back deck or really done any of the things with your life that you wanted to do or thought you would do or planned to do.

Maybe, like me, if you really got right down to it, you feel a little lost, whiplashed even, like you've been muddling around in - if not the dark, well, the half-light of perpetual dusk, anyway.

Well, we've got good company.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:3, Matthew 4:16

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

Isaiah 42:16

And, of course, that's the whole point of Advent, isn't it? Christ came for the lost, the lonely, the overwhelmed ... the underwhelmed. He came for the isolated, the addicted, the abandoned, the oppressed -- ALL people walking in darkness. And he comes for us still. Light and love break in on us where we are, in the midst of our stumbling, our grief, our not-knowing, our doubts and fears and longings unfulfilled, our desire for hope and meaning and something more.

So, kudos to those who are on top of things, who aren't lost or weary or disoriented. I rejoice with the ones who already have their Christmas decorations out, who are listening to holiday music and baking, those who made it to church this morning, those who were ready and more than ready for the promise the season offers. Seriously, we probably all want to be you. And the good news is that the light is coming for us all, independent of us and our efforts and our preparedness, regardless.

Ready or not.

Failure is an Option

2021-02-06T11:23:00.001-06:00

It's OK to be sad. Even when the sadness stretches on longer than you thought possible, longer than you want it to, longer than you think it should. Maybe you knew that. Maybe, like me, you needed to be reminded.

But did you know it's OK to feel like a failure sometimes? Yep. It's especially helpful when you recognize what those feelings mean -- and what they don't.

For example, feeling like a failure does not actually mean that you are one. It does not mean that you are worthless, that your value is diminished at all. It does not mean that your future is bleak, that you are condemned to some sub-par existence for the rest of your life, that you are somehow 'less than.' It does not mean that you didn't live up to your potential somehow (or that you did and failure is all you have to offer). Failure is not the final word, the final judge, the final power.

Feelings of failure are most often just alerting you to two important things:

1. You have experienced [significant] loss.

2. Shame has attached itself to that loss and may be keeping you from moving through it.

Feelings of failure are the very edge of a crater left by a meteor strike. The meteor may have been large or small, but the feelings are simply your heart's attempt to tell you that there is a hole and it hurts. It can be a specific, tangible loss, like the loss of a loved one, the loss of a job, even the loss of someone's good opinion. But there are sneaky losses, too, like the loss of community or the loss of a sense of purpose. Loss can be sudden and overt, or it can be an ebbing-away over time. Either way, the feelings tell us that something we value is gone (or seems endangered).

Why is that important? Well, it tells us how to care for ourselves. It gives us direction for moving forward toward life. And the first thing we must do is creep past the edges and acknowledge the size and depth of the crater.

It might seem like walking off the edge of a cliff, but if we can acknowledge our loss, rejection, anger, if we can turn away from blame and shame, we can eventually face what is at the bottom of the crater: Fear, sadness, loneliness, and a set of hard circumstances that we must learn how to live through. As scary, uncomfortable, or overwhelming as this may seem, it is the beginning of acceptance and grief.

Grief is a much healthier and more honoring response to loss than blame, shame, and guilt. When we grieve, it can move us away from shame and into a place of empowerment so that we can eventually turn to new, nourishing sources of life and fulfillment. Grief allows us to let go of something we cannot have so that we may receive and participate in good things again.

But to truly grieve and grow again, we must name, speak, and turn away from shame as the destructive force that it is. Shame is like radiation that emanates from a meteor strike. (I think this is because human beings are not just dirt and earth but powerful energy sources. When energy sources are damaged, they can cause further destruction to themselves and others.) Often we are not aware that shame is happening, but we definitely experience the fallout when we begin to believe all those (often very compelling) lies about ourselves. If you are getting messages that your value is somehow diminished, that you are unworthy and life is bleak, it is shame radiation poisoning. It's a lie, a thinking error, a false conclusion, a reaction that, left unaddressed, will only cause more damage to you and others.

When we speak our shame, when we have the opportunity to grieve, we are finally freed to examine our values. We no longer identify with the crater; we are recovering from it. We are bigger and have more to offer than a hole and radiation poisoning. Now we can ask things like, "What need was being filled by this important relationship I lost?" Was the relationship healthy and good and honorable? Was the need being filled in a way consistent with your values? Are there good, healthy new places to take this need now?

It is only at this stage that we develop the resilience to recognize whether any actual failure occurred.

Because that's the final reason it's OK to feel like a failure sometimes. Failure happens! In fact, failure is necessary for our maturity. We MUST fail in order to learn and grow, and we must embrace and grow through the feelings that result from failure, whether it be ours or someone else's.

For more on shame and resilience, look up Brené Brown's work on BreneBrown.com or anywhere books are sold.

The Way Forward is Sometimes The Way Back

2020-09-10T14:23:00.005-05:00

Looking for a little encouragement? I might have some for you.

It has to do with basketball.

Well, more specifically, it has to do with a movie about basketball that, of course, is really about life -- but not about life just in general. This was a movie about my life and, possibly, about yours.

I finally watched "The Way Back" and in it I discovered inspiration I wasn't expecting. Somewhere beneath the big themes of loss and addiction and contribution was a crazy brilliant truth. Blink and you might miss it, for it lay not in the portrayal of trauma and redemption, but in the messy coaching of a nondescript high school basketball team. It went something like this:

1. Most of us are not star players.

This might sound depressing, and maybe if the film left us there, it would be. But it hit on one of the greatest struggles we can face in our lives: In the sheer mundanity of our our everyday existence, in the face of all the things that are bigger than us, do we still matter? Do we count? Do we make a difference? Even if we are not the star players?

Because we all know there are star players out there, like the big, badass opposing team of up-and-coming athletes in the film. They have raw talent. They've had opportunity to develop it. They've got experience and open doors. Clearly they are going somewhere, doing something, for better or for worse. They are the 1%. Which means that, statistically speaking, most of us are not them.

But that's not what matters in the end. When all is said and done, we each still have something to bring to the game -- something meaningful -- if we're willing to do the messy, frustrating work of owning it, offering it, and disciplining it.

And as the movie depicts, that is certainly not easy. Sometimes we must learn to speak up. Sometimes we must to learn to shut up. Sometimes we must show up and sometimes we need to go home. Whatever the challenge, we will probably have to do a lot of laps. But most often, what we've really got to get into our heads and hearts is the next vital truth of the film:

2. Never forget that the little things count.

This is film gold right here, a few sentences that maybe amount to six seconds of overt air time.

"Chip away at it. It's the little things. The little things count."

When our stories don't look like star-player-stories; when there aren't big appearances of larger-than-life talent and against-all-odds moments; when we really do have to face realities of heartache and loss and failure and there are no epic come-backs; when we're sadly bereft of finding our perfect partner, our perfect calling, our perfect place in the world, we can lose our bearings. We can struggle to find meaning. We can become discouraged to say the least.

But the truth is, most of us really are making and can make a difference, it's just not in a single moment, not in a single achievement, not in an epic battle of good vs. evil, not in a planetary alignment of justice and truth so that love conquers all. Our stories look more like chipping away at the opposition and never. giving. up.

Our stories are ones in which our daily decisions, the little decisions, are the ones that make a difference.

And if we can focus on that, remember it, and let it drive us, it is then that we can truly accomplish things we never thought possible before.

That's it. That's the encouragement I have to offer you. Check out the movie. Imagine your life on the court -- working your ass off, yes, but chipping away at the opposition little by little, pressing in, and achieving something worthwhile in the process. Because I am not a star player, but I don't have to be, and you don't have to be one either. Whether the game we've committed to is caring for self and others, working our recovery, voting for systemic change, seeking healing, or just pulling our families together in the midst of hardship and devastation, we can do the little things. The little things count.

Don't. give. up.

Everything Will Change

2019-12-04T01:22:00.008-06:00

God.

changed.

everything.

And we never saw it coming.

We didn't know it was happening,

had no clue that anything was even going on.

How often does God change things this way?

Quietly.

Sneakily.

Not through pompous nor idealistic politicians, kings, or commerce,

but a light in the darkness we somehow do not see?

How often is God with us, birthing hope

in secret places

that shake the foundations of the earth?

Because God changed everything in the womb of an inconsequential woman,

through a baby born where there was no room for him,

through a carpenter turned Great Physician.

Yet someone knew to look for him -

a ragamuffin child.

Someone knew to watch

they knew what to watch for,

knew how to recognize the work of God, the light of God.

No one talks much about this mind-blowing fact.

Someone knew how to see the subtle, mundane-seeming movement

of the Maker of the Universe in our midst.

We call them wise.

Teach us how to see, God,

how to see God.

Show us what to watch for, that we may leap for joy

within our own small wombs.

Because we need you to change us.

change.

everything.

Alone and in Community

2011-01-23T19:40:00.006-06:00

"Let him who cannot be alone beware community. He will only do harm to himself and to the community. Alone you stood before God when he called you; alone you had to answer that call; alone you had to struggle and pray; and alone you will die and give an account to God.

"You cannot escape from yourself; for God has singled you out. If you refuse to be alone you are rejecting Christ's call to you, and you can have no part in the community of those who are called. 'The challenge of death comes to us all, and no one can die for another. Everyone must fight his own battle with death by himself, alone ... I will not be with you then, nor you with me' (Luther).

"But the reverse is also true:
Let him who is not in community beware of being alone.

"Into the community you were called, the call was not meant for you alone; in the community of the called you bear your cross, you struggle, you pray. You are not alone, even in death, and on the Last Day you will be only one member of the great congregation of Jesus Christ.

"If you scorn the fellowship of the brethren, you reject the call of Jesus Christ, and thus your solitude can only be hurtful to you. 'If I die, then I am not alone in death; if I suffer they [the fellowship] suffer with me' (Luther).

"We recognize, then that only as we are within the fellowship can we be alone, and only he that is alone can live in the fellowship."

Dietrich Bonhoeffer