The Lost Art of Conversation

One of the best compliments I ever got was from my friend Jason Harrold.  He said “You really know how to TALK to people.”  

I was surprised to hear that. I’ve always been pathologically shy and I consider myself to be the archbishop of social awkwardness, but after that, I started hearing the same compliment from other people in my life.  I certainly don’t think I’m an expert in the art of conversation but, just in case it might be helpful, I figured I’d share some of the things I do when I talk to people.  

I have seen the Spectre; he has been here, too

After the massacre of nine innocent Christians in Charleston, humanity is again asking:

 “God, how can you allow such things to happen?” 

and God is asking once again, as he does over and over:

 “Humanity, how can YOU allow such things to happen?”

Found Hearts

The main reason I entered the Religious life is so that I can hear God more clearly.  Throughout the Bible, God reminds us that we can all have happier, healthier and more meaningful lives if we just listen to him and follow his loving guidance.

That’s great if you can actually hear him, but I never could.  I was never Horton to God’s Who.  It was kind of embarrassing, actually.  Here I was going to church, reading the Bible and spouting off all kinds of wisdom from what I’d read but I never actually got anything from the horse’s mouth.

I HAVE BECOME COMFORTABLY NUN

Written June 11, 2013

I have been visiting Episcopal Convents on a regular basis for about 14 years, hoping to discern whether I was really being called to religious life or if it was just another one of my crazy countercultural ideas.  For many years I went twice a year to St. Mary's Retreat House, which sits right behind the Mission in Santa Barbara, to see the Sisters of the Holy Nativity.  I also visited the Community of the Transfiguration in Cincinnati and the Society of St. Margaret in Boston.  In the meantime I also met monks from the Order of the Holy Cross, Society of St. Francis and the Society of St. John the Evangelist in my various church activities and travels, and in every encounter with every Monk and Nun I asked the same question: "What is it like?" 

Because I don't want to Flunk Substitutional Atonement

“For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice,
  the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”

--God - Hosea 6:6

“We’ll kill the fatted calf tonight, so stick around.”

--Elton John and Bernie Taupin - Bennie and the Jets

As I’m heading into the mysterious depths of the end of Holy Week this year, I’m trying to wrap my mind around the concept of Jesus dying for our sins.  

It’s baffling to me.  Ever since the first time I ever heard a Baptist preacher proclaim it from a pulpit when I was a child, I’ve periodically pondered it and then decided it was just over my head.  I’ve skipped it in my spiritual development just like I skip math questions on I.Q. tests.  It’s too complicated.  It bounces off my brain like a Nerf ball.  I don’t know the ins and outs of this covenant that God made by sacrificing his only son, but I know it’s the truth – just like I don’t know how electricity works but I know it makes lightbulbs glow. 

This year, though, I am a nun.  I’ve got to get some kind of grasp of this theological trigonometry question or I’ll be struck dumb when some earnest spiritual seeker asks me about it in the future.  I’ve never been to seminary, I’m bored to tears by long intellectual diatribes on the subject and I don’t have any real concept of the correct theology on it so I’ve decided simply to figure out what I, personally, think the whole thing means. 

Jesus, Take the Wheel!!!

Jesus, Take the Wheel!!!

Man:  God, how long is a million years to you?

God:  Only a minute

Man:  How much money is a million dollars to you?

God:  Only a penny

Man:  Can I have a million dollars?

God:  Sure, wait a minute.

My mother, who was born at the Holy Name of Jesus Hospital in Gadsden, Alabama and who has a southern accent so thick and incomprehensible that even southerners can’t figure out what she’s saying, has a tendency to blurt out the phrase “LORRRRD HEPPP!” in moments of tremendous astonishment. My sisters and I think this is so hilarious that we often call her up with shocking information just to hear her say it.  I’ll eagerly ring her up  and say “Mom, my friend Stephanie is getting married on Saturday to a seven-foot tall transvestite named Amanda Hugandkiss and get this - Amanda is a minister at the Pentecostal church.” to which my mother will reply, at top volume, so you have to hold the phone a yard away from your ear to avoid being deafened:  “LORRRRRRD HEPPPPPP!!!!!”

Let's Go Thump Some Bibles Together!!!

Written August 2014

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TAtRCJIqnk

I’m always interested in the viewpoints of the people in my life whom I love and respect, but who have completely turned away from religion in all its forms.  I like to engage in discussions with them about why they reject faith and spirituality so harshly, and why they think Christianity in particular is harmful.  I am curious as to why people stop going to church, and why they raise their children to be on guard against being lured into any kind of belief beyond science and reason.

Freedom

Prayer in Schools

There have been many instances in my life when I've been participating in a nice group conversation, happily chatting away and validating the feelings and beliefs of my fellow chatters, when someone looks at me and says "Well of course - YOU believe that there should be prayer in our schools, right?  I mean, of course there should be."

The Peace that Passes All Understanding

Depart from evil, and do good; 

seek peace, and pursue it.  

--Psalms 34:14

On Sept. 11, 2001, my parents were about to leave my apartment in Los Angeles to fly home after a two-week visit with me.  My sister India called just as my stepfather Mike's hand was on the doorknob, ready to roll the luggage out to the rental car.  She said frantically "Turn on CNN.  A plane just flew into the World Trade Center.  DO NOT allow Mom and Mike to go to the airport."  Despite our reassurances to India that it was just an aircraft accident and everything was ok, we soon realized that it was a terrorist attack and that every airport on the country had been shut down.  My parents were stuck in LA for the next 2 days, and they ended up flying to Atlanta's Hartsfield Airport on the first commercial airline flight that was allowed in the air after 9/11.