These Words of Mine

Along the Way @ mlsgregg.com

Gentle Reader,

I’m not serious enough for the academy. Nor am I funny enough to go into comedy. Too liberal for my conservative friends and too conservative for the liberal ones. A Christian and a feminist in a time and place when many think the two cannot coexist. It’s a strange space in which to dwell.

This is on my mind today because people have asked me recently why I write the way I do. Why a piece on a Monday bordering on (but never quite crossing into) the academic followed by a piece on a Friday in the style of a stream-of-consciousness journal entry? Why the polemical cozied up to the fluffy? Why the sarcasm tucked into the serious?

I don’t think about my “craft” or “art” that often. (Seems awfully pretentious to use those terms in relation to these little scribbles). I don’t consider the why or the ways. Rarely do I plan or outline. I sit down, I write. That’s it.

My version of thinking out loud, I suppose.

The juxtaposition of the deep and the wide, the theological and the absurd, the reflective and the shallow found here isn’t an attempt to be either clever or jarring. I don’t know how to write any other way because I don’t know how to think any other way. Yes, let’s talk Kierkegaard and textual criticism and politics and then in the next breath shout “irregardless!” in the affected Southie accent of Sully and Denise. (Thank you, Tina Fey). Let’s hopscotch from Jonah’s anger to the unabashed delight found in eating a fresh chocolate chip cookie. Let’s intensely study the role of women in church and society and then riff on that weird thing that one dude said.

Maybe it’s a little manic. I don’t know. I just can’t handle being serious all the time. I can’t. The bent of my nature is toward the gloom and the doom. A certain heaviness always weighs upon me. If I don’t tackle the sunlight and the laughter, I’m done for. I know that there are important issues. I know that things are happening. I know that responses must be weighed, measured and crafted. I understand the responsibility found in casting my words to the wind.

Yet I believe that silliness is a must. We need silly. We need fun. We need to laugh so hard that the sound ceases and the tears of happiness roll. Without the precious gift of humor, we’ll be swallowed up and washed away by tsunamis of fear and bitterness. And just what would be the point of that?

I wonder what might happen if we began to be known for our smiles instead of our frowns. Again, I know. We have responsibilities. We bear the Gospel message. We must stand for justice. There are bills to pay and kids to raise and relationships to tend. There are deadlines and housework and doctor visits. Hard, bad things happen and we suffer.

But what if, somehow, all of it was navigated with a smile, a chuckle and a gentle hand? What if we moved about on this earth as people who understand that joy – even happy – is a good thing? A necessary thing? As people who understand that faith and sour expressions are not meant to go together?

I do not mean denial or hiding. What we need to do is give ourselves permission to giggle. To unplug from all the deep, heavy stuff and sigh with laughter. The deep, heavy stuff will be there later. Just for a moment, set it down. Let it go. Throw your arms open and do a ridiculous little dance. Poke fun at the big, scary thing.

God knows we’ll be crushed if we don’t laugh. Wit and sarcasm are liberally sprinkled throughout the Bible. And have you seen some of the animals out there? Ridiculous.

Sometimes we just need a release. We can come back to the important things later. We need to pause and say, “This is so weird and I’m tickled over it.” Like a bright little buoy bouncing on choppy seas.

That’s why I write the way I do.

My journey to faith. (15)

Five Minute Friday: Plan

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7/14/15: I may have written too hastily. I wish I could say more, but I am in the process of attempting to gather some information. I don’t have the answers to some of my questions at this point. This isn’t an attack on Jen Hatmaker, but I’m no longer sure that I can wholeheartedly recommend this book. I’m leaving this post as-is for now, but may remove it soon.  Sorry for the vagueness.

Gentle Reader,

I didn’t plan to turn on my computer tonight. We’re experiencing a lull in our relationship. I just need a break.

But I also love my FMF tribe.

I planned to lurk.

Instead I quoted Chandler Bing.

Kate. The ladies. We: plan.

Go.

Last week my blogging/Voxer/all things online buddy Rebekah mentioned that Jen Hatmaker was looking for people to be part of the launch team for her new book, For the Love, releasing in August. I’d never even heard of the concept of a launch team, let alone imagined myself being part of one. But because Jen has blessed me with her humor and her straight-shooting, I filled out the form, shrugged my shoulders and went about the day.

I didn’t plan to be chosen.

The notification sneaked into my inbox on Tuesday and my toes curled with excitement. I get to read a book before everyone else does! I get to support someone! I get to help promote the Gospel and some truly witty quips! Sure, it’s a PDF download, a dreaded electronic…thing that this bibliophile has made passionate arguments against. (Patrick, if you’re reading this, I don’t want to hear a SINGLE. WORD).

I can’t stop scrolling. I can’t stop reading.

I didn’t plan to get hooked. I didn’t plan to laugh out loud. I didn’t plan to tell myself, “Just one more chapter.” Two days later and I’ve only got a third of the book left.

For the Love is a something I needed to read right now. I didn’t plan on it. I didn’t even really realize that I needed to be reminded of the richness of grace. But God knew.

God planned.

Stop.

I can’t say much more about this fabulous book until the official launch this summer, but reader – get thee a copy. Request it at your local libraries. Make For the Love part of your plan.

My journey to faith. (15)

Five Minute Friday: Visit

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Gentle Reader,

Chit-chatting with Kate and the crew about the sacred, the mundane and the in-between. Tonight we: visit.

Go.

I’m fascinated by the Myers-Briggs personality profiles. As an INTJ (Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Judging) person (and a female one at that, which is apparently rare), learning about the different types and how everyone navigates the world is right up my alley. I love seeing how things interconnect. I’m fascinated by both patterns and differences.

Yet as much as people intrigue me, they drain me. If you imagine a turtle pulling himself deep inside his shell, that would be me. I like alone time. I cherish alone time. I jealously guard alone time.

And then all of a sudden I pop out and go, “Where’s the party?”

I got to do that this past Saturday. The hubs and I invited a few friends over for a visit, something I haven’t been able to do since before I had surgery. I don’t dive into friendship quickly or easily, so I’ve had the same core group for about 10 years. Three of my dearest relationships stretch back to high school. When we get together, in whatever combination, the banter flies fast and heavy – and then turns abruptly to matters like politics and theology.

There’s such joy in that.

Such sweet comfort in the bouncing from the silly to the serious, knowing that the jests are made with a gentle heart and the thoughts shared have been weighed and considered.

I may not speak to any one of my friends on a daily or even weekly basis, but there is a love that connects us. If one of them needed a kidney and I was a match, there’d be no questions about it.

My heart swelled with warmth as I sat on my little corner of the couch and looked into those dear faces squished into every nook of the tiny living room. I was tired and sore. I’m always tired and sore these days. But I was so very glad to have arranged that visit.

Stop.

My journey to faith. (15)