I just finished reading Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist, and am so glad I did. It is a memoirish book of Shauna's thoughts on the trials and celebrations of life. And it is just what I needed.
It was an interesting read in part because Shauna is the daughter of my pastor from my home church. I met her once at camp and remember observing her closely and later wondering if scrutiny like that was a little annoying at times. I have two clear memories of Shauna - one is of her praying a very deep and meaningful prayer and the other is of her explaining how her dad taught her to pop zits without leaving a mark - an important skill for any teenage girl. Of course, I remember this because her dad is an internationally known author and pastor of a mega church, and I love the image of him popping zits in the mirror.
The only reason I don't mention this pastor's name is because in her book Shauna never did. She never used her maiden name, made reference to her parents' names or said where her dad was pastor. I find this particularly interesting because I've learned a thing or two about the publishing industry. One of the things I've learned is that they really like to sell the books they print, and the best way to sell them is to have a famous name attached to them. I can only imagine the fight Shauna had to put up to not publish her maiden name on the cover. It would have guaranteed thousands more sales, I'm sure. But I love that she wanted to make her own name and not just be associated with the legend that is her dad.
But as I was saying about this book intersecting with my life, I just couldn't put it down. I loved Shauna's reallness and openness, sharing her flaws and fears with the world. One thing that struck me early on is how opposite our spiritual journeys were. She was the pastor's kid, being picked out as the church lady no matter where she went. I was the girl from the dysfunctional family just trying to hang on.
So when Shauna started to rebel against her faith in college, wondering if it was really worth all of the hassle, I was clinging to mine for dear life. It was all I had. It was my only hope (to quote Princess Leigha).
A few months ago Joel and I baptized our two oldest boys. In our church we don't baptize infants, but when a person has chosen to follow Christ, then we dunk 'em as a symbol of that decision. My ten-year-old was so eager to be baptized that he told everyone he knew. When it was time for the baptism I found him playing with his friends and said it was time to get ready. His whole face lit up and he literally jumped up and down and screamed, "It's time to get baptized! Let's go guys!"
When he went back to school he told his whole class that he was a Christian and started carrying his Bible with him wherever he went. In case you wondered, he does not go to a Christian school. This is so interesting to me because my faith has always been so intensely personal to me. I've never been very good at defending my faith because all I want to say is, "You know, God loves you." And then I want them to know it and feel it to the core of their being. But I've found that it doesn't exactly work that way.
Once in a class debate over the existence of God someone said that religion was just a crutch. I was hurt. I had no argument to contradict the statement. In some ways I thought it was true, I certainly leaned on God in hard times, I guess that's a crutch. But the way he said it, as though it were an insult, as though it was bad to not have all the strength I needed within myself to get through life, it confused me.
I didn't have the strength then and I don't have it now. I lean into God all the time. He is my strength, he is my hope, his book determines how I live my life and the choices I make. When I think about it I realize that religion is not my crutch, but that my relationship with God is my bone structure. It is what holds me up, what keeps me going, what leads the way. And it is the only way I've found worth living for.
As I think about how the outside world may think about me indoctrinating my children with Christianity, it causes me to pause. I am trying to give my children a more stable upbringing than the one I had. And yet I know that the instability of my life is what caused me to cling to God so tightly. He is the one who comforted me when I was sad, the one who spoke truth to me and brought people into my life to love me and care for me, to hug me and make me laugh until I cried.
My hope is honestly that my children will learn about the love of God in a different way. That they will see it and feel it in my marriage to my husband and in our love for them. That they will witness it at church when we worship God and at house church when we share one another's pain, bear one another's burdens.
The unfortunate truth, though, is that one day they will need God desperately. Whether their heart is broken by a cute little girl, or tragedy strikes our family or a friend, or whether a dream is crushed to pieces. I know that one day they will need God with every fiber of their being, just the way that I do every day.
And in the mean time, I can find no better way to tell them to live their lives - selflessly giving of themselves to help the homeless, comfort the lonely, give hope to the hopeless. But also being in a community of people who are committed to caring for one another's needs. That way, when I'm not there to care for them, I know that someone else will be.
Shauna's book made me cry and mourn for a lot of things that I never had, but also helped me remember all that I did.
I didn't have much, but I had God, and thankfully he had me.
