The Traded Pencil

Stuck in the muck

Of a tar-like quick sand

Concided to become black and sticky

Calling it “organic”

Dully smirking at “awake”

As if functional is manic

Trading asperation for the perspiration

Of pot soaked sheets

Sleeping away

What once was creative

Potenitally contemplative

For a mumbling shrug

Dont you see the trajectory

Is disengaging from your family

For the sake of the “one you love”?

The enabling kind of love

Feeds his addiction

Dictating your new reality

From this mundane fiction

Creed for the Second Half

7-12-17
I’m a support
I’m a helper to break the bottle
On the ships that will sail
I’m an audience
Applauding the one one who
Runs the race
I stand in the sand, shade my eyes and wave
As they fly away up over the mountians
I will hold your hand
And let go when it’s time
I will rejoice with you as you move forward
To stand still with you in the process
Is my goal
To enjoy you as you wait with frustration
Anymore
It is not for me to take the canter light
To hold anyone’s gaze as I fly high
It is no longer for me to move, rock or shake
I will not create fire
Or blaze a path
I will not be the goal of many
I will not create mighty visions
Or desireable positions
All I do create will be incidental
Supporting you
I will stand
In awe
Of beauty
In admiration
With joy
I will walk with you
And I will stand in the sand

9-12-17

The past has been mourned
The salty reservoirs burst at the seams
Flooded my heart-home
I thought they would never drain

But they have!
And then the rain!

Washed the gutter’s salty residue
Clean and wet
The sun makes it sparkle:
And the dewy web
No longer needed
For the waters have receded!

And I wait in the peaceful resonance
Enjoying the sun on my face
And the refreshing space
To create
But instead of shoes; SKATES!
Because I’m ready
To ride the wake
That comes my way

Walking Toward The Desert

My current point in process:
I am currently hacking away at trying to read about our Desert Fathers and Mothers that started alternative communities out in the desert during the time of Constantine and Augustine.  They valued contemplation, meditation on scripture.  They believed in God's revelation through quietness and life circumstance and nature in addition to scripture.  (Now if we could add musical worship...and growing good organic food instead of eating just bread and water....I'd be IN!!  :)  They looked for the Lord in all things and listened a lot.  The term for  the practice of these values today seems to be a part of something called "Christian Mysticism".  The connotation of that term is a little confusing to me.  It does conjure the ideas of yellow brick roads and fairies and unicorns.  Those things are actually not a part of CM at all...Maybe I'll get why that term pertains someday.
I kind of feel like my husband and I may be heading into some kind of proverbial "desert" experience of our own.  Maybe that's what were in presently. I would LOVE to start over in my connection to other Christians and be a catalyst of some sort..an encourager in this kind of society...whatever this looks like .  It could happen in living in a sort of modern commune, or even just doing worship out of home while holding down "normal" jobs.  maybe even stuff like using  the art process in corporate meditation somehow...just something different than the church time i have known.  I'm so bored. Not with God, with church time.  ( However, I must add, for those who are not bored and find true encounters with the Lord and his truth and other people, I respect and  rejoice in the rich experiences they are having.  I would NEVER want to get in the way of that or poo poo it.  This letter is for the discontent or the shipwrecked.)

 I used to "teach" Bible Studies and influence young people.  I feel held out from that ability these days.  I feel like I cannot honestly step into that role until I understand scripture better in this less literal light were learning about.  Conversations with my husband and pod casts of others that know a little more about this perspective are helpful and encouraging to me.  However, listening to God as he speaks through nature, through normal life circumstances and in quiet or in song, waiting in order to connect with the Holy Spirit/Jesus my friend and lover of soul, meditating on truth about Him by scripture...this is where I want to thrive.  This is where i would love to help others thrive as well.
For those who are discontent with church times or "losing their faith" even:
Unfortunately, so many of us need some reconditioning to break out of our current reinforced church mindset, out of the understanding that if we read the Bible as is, that we can assume we automatically understand the Word of God. As of now, I feel very shaky about being equipped to be one of those leaders to help "turn the ship around" (change what is accepted in and how we execute mainstream church)...or to even know how to facilitate a space to perpetuate those who already want to come along this path.
I still believe the Bible is very important.  I will always believe that Jesus is the only way to God the Father and part of God. And that he died and rose again and lives/thrives today. (The Bible is where we learned this!) I believe he has plans for us as individuals and that those plans are incorporated like pixels into a bigger picture.  I do believe that the teaching of "inerrancy of all scripture" ,as in literal every word for word, has robbed us of the perspective that makes the Bible so rich and whole.  Not to mention a faith that only makes partial sense.  For instance, we have been taught that the words, perspectives and rules the apostles were inerrant,right?  But some of them that were for freedom in their time/place have become a little oppressive in ours.  (Weather it be because of Reformation based translations or because mankind has changed).  But Jesus valued women, and "sinners" ...the lesser.  He submitted to the current religious systems of the time (he was a rabbi) but fully put religious leaders in their place as they used scripture to perpetuate what made them look important and gave them more control.  God has not changed...therefore what we read literally under our North American NIV subchapter captions like: "Rules for Holy Worship" or who gets to be in leadership in a church or the end times table in book of Revelation (??) , or even old testament practices...etc...these kind of specifics can distract us from the meaning of the rich storyline of the text.  Instead, we look to them to know how to act, and how to expect/ enforce other Christians to act regardless of the historical setting or circumstance, connection to other parts of the Bible that perpetuated such writings.  Who knows how to do that wisely and thoroughly??  Even though I'm grateful to people like Luther for getting the Bible into our hands, I understand why the early Christians initially wanted to have a priest to do this for them.  It's quite a responsibility.
Anyhow, back to church-times: There's GOT to be a better way of pleasing the Spirit more or at least grieving her less than assuming we can know how to be so definitively theologically "correct".  There's got to be a way to respect those we disagree with in humility of consideration instead of feeling threatened.   There's got to be a way to gather together more organically and equally with less stage separation less amplification, more good old intimacy and connection...That's why I'm looking into the practices of some of the first people who felt this way and tried a different form of knowing and loving the same God.
I still hope and yearn to FOLLOW the Spirit.  I hope and yearn to KNOW God more.  I hope and yearn to hear from Jesus more.  I hope and yearn to actually feel connected and act connected to The Body of Christ and the people of the world (and to see it all as the whole it is and not see it as compartmental in my dualistic and maverick tendency) I do not value separatism and quietism for more than a time...although that's what my life currently looks like.
Perhaps as I let God heal me in this wonderful ad excruciating quietness I will happen upon these very hopes.
For now, I keep meeting for church times in the mainstream way in order to support my Pastor husband who is struggling  with the same thing but with much more weight as our source of income. In spite of my own hypocrisy,  I will continue search for God on Sundays with these particularly lovely people who are a part of this church body.  I will keep on for a time.  Meanwhile, I "will pray that our unity that may one day be restored."

Narcolamentcy

I lay
I lay
My drowsy state
Takes my stance
Down to the floor
In an awkward dance

The ironic pose
Floor to nose
In a humble bow
Works it's way
To here an now

I eat to stay awake
I sleep to stay awake
I time my life  to acomodate
The mandate
Of my grueling master
Purveying choices as to a child
Taming any hope gone wild
My joints follow suit
In a stiffening jaunt
As the carefree taunt
With their unbelief
Of my reason for grief
I'm buried  a foot deeper by unbelief
Because all they see is the in between
But this routine
Is nothing new
But before I had the Ocean Blue
And a weekly song
And a walk to anywhere
To cure a wrong
And my purpose known
My babies home
Also a network of consideration
Like a pension
From when our lives were worthy of mention
But with one fail swoop it's washed away
And I was the one to leave
And now to my lonely floor I cleave
God what is left for me?
Where do I find new sight for my blind?
Will I ever be restored or reimbursed
Or reunited to what was first?
Self centered hopes, I know
But this old heart yearns to grow
Some good sprout of hope
From the dead ends of my rope
I believe in possibilities
Made by you
Even beyond my age or abilities
Or things that I  "could do"
But if it is up to me alone to find
Or hope for something new
Or to me to be amazing
At "Life: part 2"
I know me from history
And in my trajectory
As decline turns to decay
I'll lay
I'll lay

High Tide

The winds of change blow all the time
But I see elevens and lift my eyes
I know the sign
Maybe a break in my timeline
I may forsake my own rhyme
I may run out beyond my prime
My dream was catastrophic
But I'm a dreamer not a prophet
Blinded by my puzzle piece
I yearn to cease
Or will you thrive as I decrease?
This life has spent it livity
And I'm running out of creativity
My heart has sprung another leak
My joints are weak
Future bleak
But He is strong
Maybe He'll take over this song
Or maybe I'm wrong
I long
I long
Of sacrifice I'm supposed to reap
But I struggle to love what I can keep
And all I love I must let go
And so
My longevity I blow
In a hermit's domain
Eating my pain
How disgusted
The balls I've busted
The dream I've lusted
The tears are crusted
Is there something good ahead?
Or is hope for that as good as dead?

Islands

"Pain is a lonely island"
And I see some from afar
Through a scope, from my own
Upon the same star

We all must swim alone
In our ocean's trail

But
If I wipe the salt from my eyes
I can see a sun, every morning
RISE!
And 
If I hold real still
I can feel the resonance of His presence
Sustaining acceptance
If
I can forget how cold my hands
I can feel how warm my heart
For the ocean is a Kingdom of Dance
Not separate but apart

The treasures of the heart,
The wafts of old romance
Lift from the shore forlorn
They beckon in their call
To trade the swim for dance
And in the morn: reborn!

Where Do We Go Now?

 The writings of Paul (in the Bible) used to make me feel secure in Grace.  I felt the rules he set out for church behavior and for Christian living were obtainable and very clear.  I loved how protected they made me feel and how they defined my requirements.
Now many of them get under my skin.  Or rather, our lame interpretation of them or even the fact that they're in there. (the Bible)
The same people who say, "You can't pick and choose what scripture to obey.  It's all God's rule." are frankly not wearing head coverings to church.  Most of "them" would call that "cultural".  God seem to put up with polygamy just fine in those days.  What if it were cultural for wives to have a couple of husbands? Then what?   I tire from  this strain as I write.  these are just a couple of sloppy examples off the top of my head.
Don't get me wrong.  God never changes.  But His kids sure do.
So the unraveling continues.  Actually these are not new considerations to me.  But they are still under my skin a bit as I wrestle through. 
"The Bible is not a rule book but a love story." - Tripp Fuller.  That's so freeing and makes sense.  But my convoluted conscious cannot presently make complete peace with the not "doing what the Bible says" or seems to say about things like:
     Homosexuality (treated like second class citizens in the Church.  Rules on where they        can and can't minister)
     Deacons wives have to be liked/respected  in the Church. (Respected by who in the church? K. Well, Jon's out then.  Better go teach guitar lessons.)
Woman in Church leadership. (pretty sure Paul's view was specific to a situation at hand but it's in there)
     Church discipline: (since when is SEEN sin worse than the sin dealt with privately.  I'm pretty sure there is not a clean hand in the bunch.  Why should there be allowed a scapegoat highlighted as an example to all future transgressors?  They submit to the deacons in the church- who are also sinful men.  Isn't that what Jesus did for us?? (in His innocence) Did that not cover the scapegoat too?)
The church that worships God well but enforces these "rules" seems increasingly icky to me. 
The church (in my small scope of experience) that acknowledges these wrinkles doesn't seem to also know how to worship God in "Spirit" (unrelenting passion in song and even operating in the supernatural gifts of the Spirit when time comes for that) BTW if you know of one, I want to go to there!  
I know we are not alone in these ideas.  I have read some really amazing books by some really amazing people of God who feel like this....who are sure of less and less but Jesus.
Both in my past understanding and in my present I know I am missing something important.  
Hopefully one day I will get it.  Hopefully, someday, I will have a link between it all.    I am in process and in no way do I consider myself an authority on all this.
That is my mind.  Here is my heart:
I am a Pastor's wife, a mother, a worship leader, an art facilitator hoping to bring glory to God.  Hoping to bring some part of the existing love of Christ to people around as well as enjoy it and be changed by it myself.  I believe He is the Lover of our souls and that this is a passionate thing.  I believe that Jesus is the only way to God.  I believe that he is our healer and that this can take place in a myriad of ways.  I believe true joy lies in connecting with Him and I want everyone to experience that. I believe He is Truth and I will spend my dieing breath trying to determine what He is saying in this written word.
These are the things I believe for sure.  These are the things that spring up within me and overflow.
I will not ignore the wrinkle.  I am not afraid of it anymore.  Admittedly, I am a little afraid of what some of you all think of me in this struggle.  But not enough to keep silent for the sake of someone else in the "shipwreck" that may read this presently or in the future that could find hope or comfort to press on in spite of it all. 

Genesis 3 Part 1

Genesis 3:8-9

If I were Eve:

The cool breezes waft against my sun burnt cheeks.  All is silent except the lapping shoreline and the crowing rooster.  The leaves of the trees rustle a bit from the gentle wind.  I am almost completely seduced by the peace and familiarity around me.  I want to immerse in a pretending game that nothing has changed.  I am coddled by the arms of what was about to be lost forever.

“Where are you?”

His voice.

How could such a gentle and loving voice jostle me so abrasively?  It is cold water to my face and I brace myself for a future that pales in comparison to all I have known.  There is only unknown.  I await my sentence as I grit my teeth with tension rising from the pit in my stomach.

I hide.

The love and purity radiates from His presence but instead of comfort, it burns; it itches.  Even so, a conflicted part of me desires to just run into his arms and hope for something same, something familiar, something warm.  I would hope that there would be some part of my dignity there, some part of my identity.

But how can I?

Nevertheless, I know hiding from omnipresence is futile.  In red-handed honesty I reply, “I was hiding because I’m naked and afraid.”

Through Both My Eye Glasses

Through Both of My Eye Glasses

7-17-13

As I sit on my front porch in a living space I have only dreamed of as a kid, in the sun so warm and vibrant, my vitality is momentarily renewed.

I immerse in my small part of the harmony in this little part of the world around me:  The squirrel by my feet who thinks he is a cat, my wonderful neighbor chatting on the phone in her Aussie accent, the occasional car passing by reminding me of the waves rolling in one street over.  The Fiat Hybrid who just parallel parked between two cars seemingly inches apart, the vibrant color of my iron turquoise table against the summer green ice plant, the thriving purple and orange flowers I planted; strangely sustained in my ignorance of them this year, the hope of a new friend/neighbor behind that For Rent sign across the street, my holey tablecloth I used as a make-shift awning to block the sun from me and my turquoise table blowing in a breeze I cannot feel….

The moment is a part of this story I am living yet it seems isolated as the rhythm of the passing of time has taken down to an “Easy Like Sunday Morning” pace.

In contrast, or maybe just a dissonant harmony, I think of the moment my dear friend is living across the country.  She is in a different part of her building plot.

She is loosing.

She lost her health, autonomy, all her money, security, her home, many of her choices and almost her marriage.  In addition, one of her children may also be sick.  But she submits with a resounding Buckley-like Alleluia.  She rests accepting her momentary sadness, wearing her loss in the unseen yet resonant hands of her Creator.  She is not ignoring her pain but accepts it without turning to bitterness, denial or whining for comfort.  She relies, daily, on the strength that comes from an outside source…. which frankly, is God.

Also, I am thinking of another dear friend not so far away.  His strong, brilliant Father has lowered his frame to his cruel slave driver: Alzheimer’s.  He mercifully and lovingly visits his shriveling mentor in hopes that maybe today he will get a glimpse of the man he knew.  In addition, this dear friend seems to be loosing an ability he not only has invested some of his self image but also his livelihood.  I have witnessed this man continue to use whatever he has strength to do in a way that is beyond honoring his job or providing for his household.  It is even beyond honoring the God he claims to serve.  Although the enjoyment in this ability is gone, he uses what he has in passionate Buckley-like Alleluia to the One who gives and takes away.  I texted him in my amazement.  He responded, “...Just trying my best.  We choose death or we choose life.  You know?  Death has had enough to say in my life and in my family so I am pushing on…”

So this harmony at my turquoise table; does it continue on as I step away from it into the dissonance in my own story and the reality of the stories of my friends?  I believe this “harmony” is the sweet surrender, the Buckley-like Alleluia that joins the moments of perfect harmony in peaceful moments and the losses, the shipwrecks.

The strength of my two friends puts a fire under my heart and my will to want to carry the awareness of this belief with me.  I want to let it bring meaning to the mundane, I want to whine less, spend less money, be less critical, sing more, center more often in quiet, love much more.  It makes me want to “see” the people I am missing or have written off.  It makes me want to look at my own losses as something beautiful and exceedingly valuable.  I want to respond to pain with honesty and questions…but end in brave hope and surrender.

Shipwrecked. To those with eyes for the storm clouds.

Shipwrecked

To those with eyes for the storm clouds:

(Part 2 of “Gees Pastor’s Wife”)

Honestly the crux is this:  do we read the Bible as a rulebook to which we consider our understanding of what we read absolute Truth?  After all, the Holy Spirit teaches and guides us so He is deciphering the words on the page to my mind, right?  Don’t get me wrong.  I do believe the Holy Spirit teaches and guides us.  I would just like to point to the wrinkle that is created when both me and “the other guy” are both hearing different things from the same Holy Spirit.  Someone is WRONG Col. Sanders!  And it’s not the Holy Spirit.  Why did the ancient Jews learn scripture’s meaning by arguing it in Haverums?  It’s almost like no one had the ultimate understanding of Truth all by themselves.  I wonder if through community and conglomerate considering we will come upon a more vast understanding of Truth.  All the while we, ourselves, understand that we are ALL wrong about some things and hopefully right about others.

I facilitate groups of art doers (the term “artist” is sometimes connotative of something intimidating or pretentious for some reason).  I am an art doer that is lacking in formal training like many others.  I fake it a lot.  I will ask people sometimes to create an “impression” of a photo or a concept.  This has some to do with the lack of skill most of us have to create a “likeness”.  Besides the real thing already exists.  A likeness will never be as multifaceted as the real thing.  Somehow symbolizing the actual with other, easier to draw objects, brings a personal take on the actual.  It is this kind of creativity that, I believe, brings glory to The Creator.  We are acknowledging the imperfect, finite aspects of our understanding coming from a finite frame of reference.  However, these impressions become beautiful when put together. Since each impression varies in contrast to the next, they all hail a different aspect of beauty to the original object or concept.  Say we are trying to represent a sunset we could not possibly capture on canvas.  The original sunset remains great, mysterious and multi faceted in a way we could never completely capture.  However, maybe one person paints two hands intertwined as he was moved by the sunset for a personal feeling of not being alone.  Maybe another paints an eyeball reflecting some of the colors in the sunset from personal inspiration and another an unopened package at the mystery the sunset evokes.  Who is wrong (Col. Sanders)?

No one.  Everyone.

These are all just interpretations …parts of a whole.

Maybe this is GOOD news for a person shipwrecked from his “jot and tiddle” faith:  all we can ever hope to glean from The Holy Word of God is a version of it…an interpretation.  Maybe it was designed this way.

The cold water in the face is that this inability to grasp the complete and absolute version of these absolute truths makes it imperative to consider interpretations that differ from our own…. but lets save that expository for another time.  J

If you can’t tell, I am one who has been “shipwrecked” in her faith in the Bible.  It just a handful of years ago.  I guess I have always understood the interpretation factor, as I have always known that I did not have all the answers, nor did any other person.  I did know the Bible was not a rulebook but a “plum line”.  I guess I was so pacified by my own “what the Bible is saying to ME, personally” that I never realized that I have a responsibility:  This is  to consider other, very different, interpretations worthy of my own adopting and not just being “ok for someone else”.  I was left in a place of deep sadness and many tears.  Many of these new ideas about passages I had thought I understood came from people who read a lot more than me.  They had learned about the idioms and the social context the words were first written from.  I began to learn how different my perception is based on my culture and time.  Some of these passages include ideas about hell, homosexuality, what happens at “the end”…stuff like that.  Most of what I began to consider was really good news.  Most of it made more sence.  However, the fact that I couldn’t possibly get all of this from reading the Bible without seeking other historical sources was extremely discouraging to be honest.  I always believed the Bible was enough in conjunction with the Holy Spirit.  I had believed it was kinda blasphemous to say that it isn’t enough.  After I saw, I wondered what else I was missing and what 10 resources to read to find out what the heck the Bible was trying to say.  This is at the hull of my personal shipwreck.  Others have other reasons that have caused the same ripple effect:  being go sure and comforted by my small understanding of the written Word to a place of almost stupid looking uncomfortable “I don’t knows “ in its place.  Honestly, I have gone from being a bible study leader who would rather create her own study questions in the name of authenticity to someone who just shrugs her shoulders a lot.

Not pretty.

Seems like a fools trade: security for insecurity, safety and comfort for the unknown.  But how else will I ever get closer to knowing who He really is unless I trade?  Am I more passionate about what I have learned about God or finding out a little of whom he really is.

Honestly, I’m still a mess.  But here’s some good news:  We step into a more profound humility when ALL we know for sure is Jesus and him crucified for us.  We step into the passion for the mysteries of God when we consider deeper understanding about our expression of this simple truth.  It is through this humility that we have greater tolerance of other’s expressions as we

Listen first, dialogue second.

We have greater compassion as we encourage other Christians through their shipwreck.

The greatest news of all to me is that the Jesus that I have spent time worshipping, loving and communing with is STILL THE SAME GUY!!  ALLELUJAH!

If you can identify with any part of this narrative wreckage of your faith in the Bible, I hope you will be as sweetly encouraged as I was by something my Jesus lovin’ beer lovin’ rad little bearded hipster pastor friend told me: 

“. …This (the Bible) is a love letter.  You may not always understand but it was written to you.   So you read it and keep ON reading it because the person who wrote it, wrote it to you and He loves you.”  -Tripp Fuller

Geez Pastor's Wife!

Geez, Pastor’s wife!

4-28-13

I’ve been reading Geez Magazine.  It’s sort of a liberal-anti-establishment-hipster-Christian publication.  Their subtitle is “Holy mischief in an age of fast faith.”  The articles range from happily culturally alternative to fury with the Church of which they have held synonymous with intolerance.

I’m really enjoying it.

I feel particularly motivated by the articles that featured ways and attitudes of taking better care of the earth and also ones about “tolerance”. 

I couldn’t help but wonder what Ten or Twenty years ago Shannon would have done with this magazine.  I struggled with liberal views more in those days than now.  Simultaneously I was extremely disappointed with The Church.  I was determined to bring a piece of the puzzle of change.  Partly out of arrogance (feeling that my husband and I could do this church thing better than generations previously) but also an indignant passion for freer expression of deeper truths.

The difference with then and now is happy/sad.  I do think that the years have brought a more balanced and open perspective (definitely a more humble one).  I now see the value of “compromise” which seemed more like a nasty word for a dilluting or watering down at the time.  Sad because frankly, I’m TIRED.  Nowadays, that passionate indignation enjoys it’s daily nap time.

I’m in a place, presently, that I am excited about the freedom of becoming more tolerant of all the beautiful people around me who differ in opinion and lifestyle than I.  This is a challenge I have turned toward and in a strange way, also something I have always WANTED to do.

Ironically, I think the authors of Geez Magazine have a difficult time having tolerance for the, perhaps, most unattractive group of people that I hypocritically have a hard time having compassion for as well:

The Comfortable Religious. 

Most of the “Autonomous Christian Anarchists” I read in Geez would probably put me into this group.  Ironiclaly, this is the group  have actually felt oppressed by; unaccepted by.  but still:  They (or we) are not beyond hope of change or less in need of Mercy.

We Christian Anarchists (can I be in both groups?) must stand in the way of many previously accepted ideas.  However, we must not forget to bring others along both GENTLY AND SLOWLY.  It is Irritating for effortlessly stylish warriors like us to put down our awesome underground swords and look into the eyes of those we disagree with (or even stand against) and:

Listen.

As a Southern Californian I find that extremely challenging after 10 minutes or so.  NOt sure if the smog has given us all ADHD but most of us are very distracted by something shiny...or perhaps simply a MIRROR.   I hate to say it but we tend to share about ourselves much more than we listen.  Then you add the prickle factor that disagreement brings and its like:  “ squeezing blood out of a turnip” (-Grandma Shouse)

So:

Listening

Gentle explanation

Patience

Yielding:

Non-judgemental tolerance

Even for those who I feel judged by.

UGH!  Part of me looks at this list and thinks, “Kill me now.”  So hard.

But I claim to serve someone who asked me to do this and did it Himself.

I even see some mortal people doing this.  One in particular is a pastor friend of mine.  He is pastor of a church in a denomination who openly encourages woman in ministry positions...even supports some women pastors.  (gasp!)  However, he has members of his church and some staff members who were in a bit of an uprise about this issue.  This pastor has chosen the “third way”...he turned the other cheek.  He is gently and slowly taking his congregation through scripture on Sundays and teaching about these “supporting passages” and how our  mentality toward scripture has affected our view on such passages. 

He listens.

He asks questions.

He gently explains

He tolerates

The anarchist inside me heard about this and said, “why don’t those people just go to another church that don’t believe in women pastors.  There’s plenty to choose from!?”  But there’s another voice inside me that reminds my soul that this was me just a couple of decades ago.

Ok, I have more but I need to go....

Stay tuned if you’re reading for more rambling and hopefully a conclusion at some point.