Being different - Diane Mettam

This is an interesting time in the seasons of the church.  We have experienced the anticipation of Advent, and the joy of Christmas.  In the Lectionary we are greeted by the “suddenly” gospel of Mark, who portrays Jesus dashing from place to place, healing person after person.  And in a couple of weeks, we will suddenly be in Lent, joining Jesus on the long, sad journey to the cross.  His short time with us as a human feels particularly short to me this year, and I ponder what this means to me and my Christian walk (roll).

I have thought lately about some of the people who tried to harm me, who set obstacles in my way, who rejected me for my disabilities, who were unkind, and I find that it no longer matters.  I find that they too have disabilities - of the heart.  We are all broken in some manner, and I found the best way to live with hurtful people was to look at them the way God looked at them.

It was hard at first, but I learned to see them as God might - smiling, happy, innocent, beloved children.  If I could picture them that way they no longer frightened or upset me, and I could pray for them sincerely.  In time I could even be with them without fear or discomfort. 

I think this is something the world doesn’t understand about Christianity, and perhaps something it fears.  As a young girl I actually said “I never hold a grudge after I get even.”  And that is the world’s way.  I rejoice that I am no longer that person.  That is the gift of Jesus.  We don’t need to “get even.”  We just need to “get over.” 

I learned a long time ago that carrying around all the past hurts was like carrying around poison.  I had swallowed it, and I was waiting for the other person to die!  I had to rid myself of these horrible feelings, and the only way I could do that was to forgive the people who had hurt me, and what they had done.  It didn’t mean I condoned it.  It didn’t mean these people were now my best friends.  But it did mean that I could greet them as fellow children of God, as broken as I was.  I could protect myself around them, while showing them God’s love.  It’s a peculiar road by the world’s standards, and I must always remind myself that I am not of the world. 

As people with disabilities we are usually seen and treated as “different.”  Some want to see us as “inspirations,” rising above our circumstances.  Others see us as “less than,” as if an unbroken body or mind symbolizes superiority.  Some resent the courtesies (dare I say necessities) of accessible doors, ramps and parking spaces, Braille signage, tactile paving, and chirping crosswalk signals. 

We must present ourselves as we are, made in God’s image and proud of it, gracious in our acceptance of all of our differences.  “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.” Matthew 5:14-15

Dear Creator God, We thank you that you not only made us in your image, you gave us the capacity to forgive and forget when others hurt us, and to use our gifts to bring others to you.  Help us to keep our lanterns lit, to bring others to you, and to keep ourselves strong in your World and in the world.  In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.

The Color of Water - Diane Mettam

When I was growing up, all the Nativity sets I saw had fair-haired figures.  It didn’t start to bother me until I was about nine or ten, the age when I was exposed to the civil rights movement.  Why, I wondered, did Jesus have golden hair if he was born in the Near East?  I grew highly critical of European nativities, and then European religious paintings, particularly when they were clad in what was contemporary clothing for that time.  How dare Michelangelo depict God as an old white man, I wondered?

But as I grew as a person and as a Christian, I understood that I was looking at things all wrong.  I think what that helped me understand was a set of Chinese silk paintings I bought at a yard sale.  They were religious in nature, and one depicted the Holy Family.  There, with Chinese faces, dressed in traditional Chinese dress, were Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus, adorned with halos and surrounded by tiny winged Chinese angels. 

And then I remembered my small creche from Mexico, with its traditional Meso-American painting, animals and figures, and my carved creche from Africa, with its native figures and animals.  Every culture looked at Jesus and the Holy Family as belonging to them.  In a way, this is good.  God is accessible.  When you are in a homogenous culture, God is inclusive.  But when you live in a modern, heterogeneous culture, this can be dangerous.

The writer Anne Lamott wrote, "You can safely assume you've created God in your image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do," and modern culture and faith traditions have certainly used God as a way to determine who is good and who is bad.  Anyone not like you in terms of race, faith, income, ancestry, appearance, or other arbitrary factor is therefore not like God, and therefore open to neglect or mistreatment. 

Since Biblical times people with disabilities have been seen as something “less.”  When Jesus was presented with a man who was born blind, the apostles asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”  John 9:2   The mentally ill were “demoniacs,” who lived among the tombs. Matthew 8:28 

I love the author James McBride’s sharing of his mother’s description of God.  McBride’s father was black, his mother an Orthodox Jew who converted to Christianity.  God, she declared, is “the color of water.”  God, I believe, is also sighted, blind, hearing, deaf, able-bodied and uses a wheelchair, developmentally disabled, places on the autism spectrum and is mentally gifted.  God looks after each of us, and looks like each of us.  God has no ethnicity, and is every ethnicity.  If we truly believe we are made in God’s image, and God makes no mistakes, then God is a gloriously diverse God, with gloriously diverse dis-capacities, as the word translates from Spanish.  And aren’t we blessed to have such a God on our side? 

Prayer update from Terry McDorman of the Northern Illinois conference Accessibility Ministries committee regarding the effectiveness of their November accessibility conference:  “Since the Conference, I have nine request for teams to go out and meet with Boards of Trustees to do audits and assist them in setting visions and goals to make their church buildings as accessible as possible. I have also received numerous inquiries regarding personal hearing devices, large print materials and similar items. We even have a request for the architect that was at the event to design a new church that is accessible. So, God was working that day.”

Praise indeed!  Please remember you can submit your prayer requests, or your praises.  We are a mighty force when we work together. 

Dear God, We thank you that we are fiercely and wonderfully made in your image.  Remind us that we are yours, that we are never alone, and that when we step or roll out in faith to do you work, we will be successful.  We might be just the sowers of seeds, but we trust you that they will find fertile soil and bloom.  Thank you for choosing us and using us.  In the name of Christ, the Master Gardener, Amen.

Relinquishment - Diane Mettam

I read an article by Catherine Marshall last week about the Prayer of Relinquishment, and found it fascinating.  First, she used the word “relinquishment,” not “surrender.”  Second, she wrote about the benefits of relinquishing certain situations to God.  Coming from a family of very independent women, I have always found it difficult to turn things over to someone else, even God.

My great-great-great-grandmother lost her husband when he disappeared driving cattle to market in 1850.  She was left with two children to raise, one an infant born in a wagon in Coloma in 1849.  Her granddaughter, my great-grandmother, was also widowed at a young age and ran a boarding house to keep her family afloat.  Her daughter, my grandmother, ran a Western Union station on her own in Arizona when she was just 16 years old.  When her husband left her, she also ran a business.  When my father left my mother, my brother and I agreed we would help her keep our house by pitching in with the household and yard duties and watching our spending.  Mom got a job.

I learned to do things by myself, figure things out on my own, make things rather than buy them, learn to repair them.  It’s a skill I’ve always been proud of.  And when I got sick, I figured I could stand on my own two feet, so to speak.  I think many of us feel that way.  We are strong people.  We can take care of ourselves.  We can go to the doctor, follow instructions, take our meds, use our assistive technology, and we’ll be just fine.  We can pray for others, go to church, do what we can to help others.  We can carry on “like always.” 

But it really isn’t “like always.”  I’ve been struggling with this.  I’m not as strong as I was a year ago.  It’s hard to admit that.  It’s hard to even acknowledge it.  And it’s useless to fight it.  But it’s time to relinquish it.  It’s time to ask for my own prayers, as well as praying for others.  It’s time to acknowledge that God is in control, always has been, and always will be.  It’s time to relinquish it to God.  When I started my path to ministry, I prayed the “Covenant Prayer in the Wesleyan Tradition” with my mentor:

“I am no longer my own, but thine.

Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.

Put me to doing, put me to suffering.

Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee.

Let me be full, let me be empty.

Let me have all things, let me have nothing.

I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.

And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thou art mine, and I am thine.

So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.”

It, too, is a prayer of relinquishment.  As I turned myself over in trust to God for ministry, so I must turn myself over in trust to God in sickness. 

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.  Jeremiah 29:11

Dear God, What opportunities you are giving us this winter to open hearts, minds and doors!  We thank you for the conferences that are taking place, and the doors that are opening up to make all people welcome in your churches.  Help us remember to place our trust in you, and to lean on you when things are difficult, just as we rejoice and give thanks to you when things go well.  Thank you for always being with us, even when we think we can do it on our own.  Amen.