Pam Hogeweide
It's true. A group of elders have taken to throwing rocks at stained-glass ceilings. And where are stained-glass ceilings found? Why in churches, of course.

Who are these elders?

The elders are an independant group eminent global leaders brought together by South Africa's Nelson Mandela. Members of this group include Desmond Tutu, Kafin Anan, Aung San Suu Kye, and our very own former President Jimmy Carter.

A recent article featured at The Elders website by Mr Carter has him stating, "The words of God do not justify cruelty to women."

This statement was made in their most recent initiative:

Religious values and teachings, along with traditional customs, have provided comfort to hundreds of millions of people, stability for societies and have been a major force for good in our world and in our history.Sadly, they have also been used throughout the centuries to justify and entrench inequality and discrimination against women and girls. These teachings and practices have been abused by men to give them power over the female members of their families and women across their communities.

The initiative also convered the issues of violence, property rights, financial power, and other critical areas for women and girls around the world, particularly in developing countries. But it had a special emphasis with it's plea to religious traditions around the world to end discrimination and cruelty to women.

At first glance this might sound less urgent than sex trafficking. Women not being allowed to lead as pastors or seen as subserviant to their husbands is surely less of a social crisis than women forced into prostitution. And yet, it is not that far apart.

Today in America, a so-called superpower among the nations of the earth, there still exists with very little resistance a disparity of equity among the genders in the very place that is meant to be the most level playing field around - the church.

There are many women who suffer quietly with a sense of disquietude as they believe that they are meant to serve their men and no more. It is one thing for a woman to happily choose to do this for she finds great satisfaction in doing so. It is entirely another when that woman has been theologically conditioned to believe that it is God's design for her to be subserviant with men and not stand shoulder to shoulder among them in matters of civic, spiritual or domestic leadership.

I met a woman a few months ago who told me that she and her family were part of a church that taught it's members that God created women to be helpers for men. That's why women exist. This created an atmosphere of devaluing of this woman's personhood. She began to acutely feel the tension between what she had been taught as God's divine order, and what her soul knew was happening: she was suffocating. All in the name of Jesus, she was slowly being strangled and felt certain that if she did not escape the grip of it would break her neck.

Her family finally exited and she is recovering. Her marriage is recovering. There is a new liberation in her outlook about herself and her world. She no longer accepts that the word of God promotes unjust relationships between the sexes just because of one chromosome.

There are many invisible women suffering quietly as this woman was. When theology cages a person in, when there is a belief about one's limitability rooted in one's concept of God, then there will exist a breeding ground for abuse and exploitation.

The Elders, in my opinion, are issueing a prophetic-like call to repentance to the leaders of the communities of God-followers around the globe. The hour has become late, and even in the wealthiest of nations and the most affluent and educated of religious institutions, there remains firmly entrenched the idea that men lead, women follow. It's our role, the perpetual role of women eveyrwhere to be happy helpers to our manly men.

What do you think? Is it overstated that women in Christian traditions are treated less than just? Have you experienced injustice because of your gender? Or do you see it differently? What have been the experiences that have shaped your theology about the genders?

(a special shout-out to my friend, Erin Word, who writes about The Elders in her most recent article for Communitas Collective, an online community that exists to encourage people who are discovering new ways to be the church.)



Pam Hogeweide
A man of piety complained to the Baal Shem Tov, saying, "I have labored hard and long in the service of the Lord, and yet I have recieved no improvement. I am still an ordinary and ignorant person."
The Besht answered, "You have gained the realization that you are ordinary and ignorant, and this in itself is a worthy accomplishement."

(as quoted in The Spirituality of Imperfection, by Kurtz and Ketcham)
I am currently reading a book that is rocking my perfectionistic-driven world. The Spirituality of Imperfection, written back in 1992, has become a timely, prophetic-like read for me. I am underlining many passages in this book, a sure sign that it is engaging me and that I want to be able to retrace my steps once I'm finished with it. So no, you can't borrow my copy. This one's a keeper.

This is not necessarily a specific Christian book with an evangelical worldview. Rather, it is a book about spirituality. But the authors quote from the bible and old rabbis and even the desert fathers to state their case: the Sacred is revealed to us in the experience of our failure. (p.45)

It is comforting for me to read this book and it's message to accept one's imperfections. It is the great paradox of 12-step recovery programs for it's adherants to admit their faults to another human being. This kind of self-disclosure provides a decompressing of one's secret shame and fear, and all the energy of those imperfections suddenly lose their power.

The New Testament encourages this kind of philosophy. Confession of sin to one another is an ancient tradition for the Christ follower. There is much hidden wisdom in the admission of our failures and mistakes.

And so, here I am, in my mid-forties, and I'm still wrestling with that alligator of a nuisance called perfectionism. I don't like it. I wish it weren't so. I wish I were perfect. But I'm not. So the trick now is to not try to obsess on being perfectly imperfect, or confess my crap in a orderly, method of artistic perfection.

'Cuz you know I could do that, I could change it up in a heartbeat without even trying. I roll that way. And I guess, according to this book I'm reading, just owning up to that fact is a great step in the right direction of imperfect spirituality.
Pam Hogeweide
My son Jeremy quipped to me in the car yesterday, "I'd rather be a smart-ass than a dumb-ass."

Ha!

The wisdom of a snarky 12-year old boy told with the timing of a veteran comedianne. He is the funniest person I have ever ever known.

Then, while listening to the radio, the dj's started getting kind of raunchy, talking about how if a kiddie pool is filled with a bunch of liquor and you sit in it you will actually get drunk. Apparently the rear-end can soak up the alcohol into the bloodstream.

Jeremy listened to that and said, "I guess that's what you call getting drunk off your ass."

This kid slays me.
Pam Hogeweide

I wish I were perfect. Perfect teeth. For sure, perfect teeth. I have had messed up teeth my entire life. For. My. Entire. Life.

It is not a joy ride to have yellow-stained teeth when you are 16 years old and have a man say to you, "You'd be a fox if it weren't for your teeth."
(translation: fox- 70's-80's slang that meant cute and pretty)
When I was a little girl I had some serious medical issues that required I take a certain antibiotic. The medication helped me from getting more seriously ill, but what was not known at that time was that this particular drug would permanently stain the teeth of children who took it.

Before my fortieth birthday I decided to dole out a chunk of change and get my teeth whitened. I found a great dentist in my neighborhood who agreed to help me. "You're about an 8 out of 10 in terms of how severe your staining is," he told me as he assessed my less-than-pearly whites. "You are not going to get a chiclet smile from these treatments, but it should help," he said.

And so, he and his dental assistant used the most aggressive means they could in administering whitening agent to my teeth along with laser technology. I felt like my teeth got sunburned. They became very sensitive, pain shooting in and around the gums as I endured several treatments over a a few weeks of time.

Eventually the dentist announced, "We're done. I can't take you any further without damaging your enamel. It's as good as it's gonna get."

That announcement brought a mixture of relief and sadness. Though I told him I understood that my teeth were so damaged that they would not ever be white, I still secretly held onto hope that my teeth would be restored to their normal color.

They looked better. They went from looking coffee-stained to looking tea-stained. Improvement, yes, but perfection? Not even close.

And so it is with my life. I crave everything in my life, every relationship, interaction, decision, response, everything, to be normal and perfect. I really don't like drama. My husband has said that I thrive in crises because I grew up with an alcoholic father. But that's not true anymore. I want everything to run smooth, smooth as butter on a stack of pancakes.

I told a group of friends recently that i am understanding the pride and arrogance of wanting perfection. Nothing is perfect in life. No friendship, relationship, marriage, parenting style, work situation, creative expressions.... we are all walking around with, at best, tea-stained teeth.

I need another dose. Not of whitener. That won't help. I need another dose of humility. It is the wisdom of humility to accept the things about me, and you, that cannot be changed. Or at least changed to a chiclet white smile.
Pam Hogeweide
When a popular "purpose driven" movement swept through my faith community helping people to identify God’s special plan for their lives, I instantly became obsessed. I bought into the expectation that God would deliver a concise plan for my life overnight. I waited and watched, bewildered, as others seemed to effortlessly fall into their divine callings as mine stalled. Clamoring for clarity, I willingly submitted myself to‘constructive’ criticism, character evaluations, accountability partners and endless workshops preparing for ministry and purpose, to no avail. This was a precarious season of great expectation. I became increasingly convinced there was an invisible ‘ladder of purpose’ which existed to usher privileged spiritual superstars to significance and meaning. I wanted to climb that ladder and believed once on it, I would also arrive at my coveted destination of divine purpose where everything in my life would finally make sense.  (joy schroeder, communitas collective)
 Wow, I totally get that. I have waited years. Years. For my life to make sense, for my faith to discover her identity and what amazing purpose my life is meant to fulfill. God only hands out cool assignments, ya know.

I met a woman one time who spent a great deal of conversation telling us all about her ministry. Ugh, there's that M word. Min-a-stree.

In the sub-culture of evangelicalism there is a kind of holy grail in discovering what one's ministry is. This is akin to finding one's destiny or cracking your personal code on what your life's purpose is meant to be. And for sure, there are some, the lucky ones, who have a clear path laid out before them of what they can do or become to help make the world a better place.

Then there is the rest of us.

I would love to find my purpose in my life. If anybody finds it let me know. I've searched all over for it. Books, sermons...oh my god, sermon upon life-changing sermon upon sermon...conferences, prayer lines, late-night conversations, pleas upon pleas on the altar of Divine Guidance...

It took me a while and quite a few bruises to finally discover that the best life I am meant to live and the ever-elusive purpose I am meant to possess is actually right in front of me right now. I already have it.

There is a disabled man who lives in my neighborhood. He lives in an adult foster care home in my neighborhood. He cannot support himself due to being horribly crippled by a car accident. He has no family and the few friends he had are unable to take him in. He lives a kind of transient life, people come, people go. But there he remains. Quietly steadfast in his wheelchair, rolling down the sidewalks to where ever the pavement can take him. I once pulled over to help him when his chair got stuck on the curb.  I'm trying to imagine talking to him about his purpose in life. That doesn't seem like the thing to bring up.

What is a purposeful life?  How can we know if we are living out a scripted role that only we can fill?  Or maybe we are asking the wrong questions. That's what I think. I think we are asking questions that are ego-driven, not purpose driven.

Maybe fear is the undercurrent of the search for purpose. Fear of failing at life. Fear of being an irrelevant, anemic Christ follower.

Fear of failing as a human being.

AS IF!

It's a big, fat effed up lie that leads us down a dead-end road in the search for ghosts like purpose, higher calling, destiny, fortune...life is immensely purposeful simply because we exist. I do not fail at being a human being, no matter how broken or frail or corrupt I may find myself.

For sure there is a lot I am not addressing here, like those who possess talents and giftings and advantages in life and do not use them at all to serve their brothers and sisters. This is not what I am talking about. I am referring to the pressure to become more and shine brighter. To soar higher and live more fully. To own your best life now and be driven by purpose.

I don't know about you, but it's not working out for me!

So really, if you find my purpose laying around some where, give me a holler. I think I'll post it on Craigs List and sell it and give the money away. I haven't been using it anyway.