A said something just as an aside the other day, and it's stuck in my mind ever since. I don't even remember the context clearly, but he mentioned (as if it were obvious) that the evangelical Christian church is the only workplace in which it would be tolerated that I would essentially be fired from my only money-earning position, simply for having divorced. In no other sector of society but the Church would that be grounds for losing one's livelihood, especially when the agreement to divorce was a direct result of my partner's extra-marital relationship.
And I realized I had simply accepted this as part of the price of choosing, in the face of his choices, to end my marriage to P. I was, of course, hurt and at first quite angry that it didn't seem to occur to anybody in leadership of the church I had co-founded that some sort of monetary recognition for my 20 years of service might have been in order. I did eventually ask them for a continued monthly pittance of €100 in order to keep my health insurance payment covered, to which they agreed; but now I find myself wondering if anything at all would have been offered had I not specifically requested that. And that too ended, of course, when I resigned my membership.
I did eventually hear that P had tried to convince the then-LT that it was their responsibility to take care of me financially, which they resented, and they wanted him to take responsibility for me financially, which he resented. In the end I suppose everyone may have assumed the other one did it, so nobody did. And it's quite true that I took poor advice (from, as it turns out, an enabler of P's) and did not request much in the divorce settlement, nor any alimony beyond 1 years' support. I simply did not have the energy to fight for more (and believe me, it would have been a fight), nor did I think it was necessary. After all, I had assured plans to sell part of the investment which was a large part of the settlement-- not having been informed that it was already spent and thus worthless. That would, as I have mentioned in earlier posts, have been a few years' assistance.
Don't get me wrong; the price has definitely been worth paying. The life I now live is in so many ways much simpler, freer and happier than the one I had before, though more financially constrained. I would not go back for the world. But it does seem odd that it has been pretty much universally accepted that of course I could not possibly continue in any of my paid competencies within a local church context.
I understand compassionate leave was in order, and I did continue to receive a reduced paycheck the second half of the year we divorced, though I was not "working". I suppose that was considered a form of severance pay. It's true that I had been ministering more in an outside context than within for several years, but I was still considered "in leadership". And it's also true that, by that time in a very long and painful process, I was trusting nobody in that leadership team, so it's likely none of them felt they could even talk to me without running the risk of getting their heads bit off. (To be fair, they didn't even try.)
But it's still a bit odd that we all accepted this, if I may call it that, financial abandonment (no pension, no lump settlement) as a matter of course, after 20 years' service. I know people in the congregation were hurt and confused by the divorce (did they think I was not?!). And I myself was certainly knocked back and did need a break from active ministry.
But I didn't lose all my wisdom, practical knowledge, spirituality and authority just because my marriage failed.
Nor have the other "ministry ex-wives" out there who got the raw end of a male mid-life crisis. One effective bilingual missionary girlfriend of mine (whose husband was indisputably the cause of the breakup) ended up moving back to America, though the call on her life is missions. Yes, she has a place to live but after several years she is still single and she is still poor, that last mainly because her ex (who remarried the day the divorce was finalized) has never fulfilled his responsibilities to her required by the settlement contract --and nobody, including her own believing children whom their Daddy treats and pampers, seems to either be aware of that or to care much if they are.
I can't help feeling that in a community of which Jesus said "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:35), this sort of thing
simply
shouldn't be
considered acceptable.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Matron or Bride?
Awhile back I wrote a post called "Sorting More Than Clothing", in which I related sorting out the Ministry Clothing I no longer need. I could have jumped off that introduction to any number of related subjects, but in that post I chose to go the way of exploring titles and the expectations attached to them. Today I'd like to jump off this base onto another aspect of what MC represented to me, and how my thinking has since developed. Below I repeat two early paragraphs of that post and then continue rambling on:
The purpose of this wardrobe was, while well-dressed enough not to give offense, to draw as little attention as possible to myself or to the fact that I am a woman. I think part of that motivation was a good one; ie, especially when in ministry, I want people to be able to look past me and see Christ ministering to them. I consider myself a delivery person of God's blessings, and the packaging should not detract from that... However, I think I went a bit too far in the opposite direction... When I looked at my row of businesslike blazers, matronly trousers and shirts I wouldn't pair with my usual jeans or leggings, I became a bit thoughtful. Why was I being someone else? Whose expectations was I trying to meet, besides my own?
My thinking has changed partly because, in those same years when I was speaking and ministering in many different contexts, wearing my rather matronly MC as a matter of course, God was in the process of taking me on quite a different inner journey: that of morphing from Matron into Bride. I know, I know; at my age? And isn't that a little backward anyway? Isn't one first a bride, then a mother, then a matron? In human terms, yes, very much so. But since my identity in the natural as a bride had never really been developed, due to deficiencies in the relationship with my first husband, Dad had an agenda to focus on that area of my spiritual/inner development.
This may sound rather weird to you; I know it did to me. But it is undeniable that my relationship with Dad and with Jesus changed quite a lot during those years of working closely with Holy Spirit.
In the relatively quiet years just before beginning to travel internationally in 1999, I had developed quite a close personal relationship with my heavenly Dad. There was a period of parallel development of my relationship with my natural father; each seemed to reinforce the other, and gave me inner confidence I'd never had before. In the early years of traveling it was very easy to, as it were, curl up on Dad's lap and be his favored daughter (his term for me). But when I started visioning, it was mostly Jesus whom I encountered. So that relationship began developing along deeper lines as well.
Early on I had a few quite intimate visionary experiences with Jesus in which I, to my disappointment, realized that I could not quite relax with him as my Bridegroom. The intimacy problem was all on my side and I knew it. But as always, there was not even a hint of reproach from him, simply a loving willingness to patiently love me at whatever stage I was in.
At the same time he was in a sense "wooing" me from the outside; I repeatedly got unsolicited personal words from people who had no idea about my inner journey, speaking of the beauty Jesus saw in me, "engagement with the Bridegroom", "entering into the love relationship of the Godhead" and such things: all pointing in one direction and confirming my rather shaky, because unprecedented, inner journey. I also (re)discovered some of the old Christian mystics, many of whose experiences closely paralleled my own, if not even wilder. I didn't feel so alone.
In early 2006, my then-husband P and I went on a sabbatical. We'd been in ministry in Austria for over 20 years without one. It was supposed to be a time of rediscovering and enjoying each other, as well as looking toward the future and seeking what God had in store for us next, as it was clear to us when we'd left that we should soon be moving on from VG. However, due to the unhealthy dynamics in our marriage, this didn't really take place (and we never left VG until forced out). Most difficult for me was the fact that, because we were together for 5 months 24/7, I was unable to have enough space for my usual life-giving "down time" with God. By the time we returned to VG in May I was physically refreshed, but spiritually gasping for air.
You see, my times with Dad had been a counter-balance to (some would say a compensation tactic for) the emotional privations I experienced in our marriage. I was anything but a bride to P. He preferred a different body build, disliked many of my personal habits, disapproved of many of my personal choices, yet he also wanted motherly nurture from me (household functions) to compensate for what his own mother could never give him. I had accepted the matron role partly as the easiest way out of never being ale to satisfy P on most other levels.
With Dad, though, I was loved as just me; not only loved, but affirmed, treasured, appreciated, called forth, found beautiful-- all the things missing in my marriage. So as you can imagine I was very eager to crawl back into Dad's lap and "fill up" again-- and I was devastated when I found great difficulty getting back into that place. It was as if a door had shut. I simply couldn't enter in, and it was driving me mad. I did the usual "Have I sinned? What is wrong on my end?" agonizing but got nowhere.
Until Dad made it clear to me that nothing was wrong, that this was a deliberate stage on my journey. He wanted to introduce me to Jesus in a new way, as a bride and not just as his little daughter. It was clear he thought I was grown up enough now to take a journey I'd bypassed. As a new Christian I was very enamored of Jesus and rather afraid of The Heavenly Father (as he was represented); I'd picked up the wholly inaccurate idea that Dad was pissed off at sin, and therefore at me, and it was only Jesus' standing protectively between us that kept me from being smited on the spot. Hard to love a Dad who's holding a belt.
But somewhere along the way of developing into first a conservative biblicist, then a renewed Evangelical, then a River Rat... I found Dad to be completely different to that picture, and basked in his fatherhood. I suppose this basking filled some holes that had been there from my childhood; my own father was of the era that didn't really show affection. He was a righteous man but not a very warm one. And as I said, growing closer to my own father after the death of my mother was part of this healing process.
But Jesus as Bridegroom-- not just of his Church, but my very own? A concept I'd certainly heard expressed, but could not identify with. Isn't that what single girls who'd like to be married console themselves with? How does this apply to me?
As my marriage deteriorated more quickly after our return from sabbatical (and in hindsight, it's clear to me that it did-- we did not have the same goals, passions, or values and our personal choices increasingly reflected that), I drew inwardly closer to Jesus. This is hard to put into words, but he comforted me the way I had always wished P would. He understood me even when I was being unreasonable-- and since menopause was starting, I know I sometimes was, and am! He became very real to me.
So real, in fact, that we went through my wardrobe at that time and he -- this does sound strange, I know-- pointed out to me which clothes were just too matronly for me to keep. Shapeless dresses, baggy trousers, things I had worn to cover up the body P didn't like. Things that did not reflect what Jesus thinks of me: lovely and loveable, just as I am.
Then Jesus brought a flesh-and-blood bridegroom into my life, one who shares his opinions of me! This was such a surprise to me (and to A). I'd known A for some time as a friend, liked him very much, and knew we shared values and worked together well. In my hardest times of the past few years, A was the one friend who faithfully stood by me when it seemed everyone else was too full of shock, anger, and judgement about my divorce to recognize that I was really hurting and in need.
And there came a day I looked into A's eyes and saw what I'd prayed for years to see: Jesus' eyes, full of love for me. Not all too surprisingly, just as Dad had done when the development of my relationship to my natural father supported and undergirded a similar development in my relationship to him, through A I have finally been able to identify with Jesus as my Bridegroom. I now know what bridegroom love is like (you can find it in 1 Cor. 13). It is protective, kind, thoughtful. It thinks of the bride's needs first. It is not at all blind; it sees the bride's failings, but they are simply irrelevant. It delights in what she considered foibles or quirks. Most of all, it simply, faithfully, quietly loves in all circumstances.
If I ever do stand upon stages again to represent my Dad, I will do so not only as his favored daughter, but as his beloved daughter-in-law. Jesus is my Bridegroom, and A is my bridegroom: I am a bride, not a matron, and my clothing will reflect that. Whereas I earlier wrote: The purpose of this wardrobe was...to draw as little attention as possible to myself or to the fact that I am a woman, I now know that my glory is in being a woman, not a man. I don't need to (nor should I be expected to) dress like, speak like, or otherwise minister like a man, because Jesus' delight and Dad's glory is that I am a WOMAN.
Over half the Body of Christ has been disenfranchised (this is a large subject for several other posts!) for far too long, and even when "allowed" to minister, have had to conform to male standards in a male-oriented environment. I call to mind an intern in the ministry with which I formerly served. This was technically a woman, yes, but all her mannerisms and her ministry style were masculine (and no, she is not gay), because that was the acceptable standard. I no longer have any interest in conforming to or supporting that system. What you will get will be me, Just Holly, and that includes all my gender roles, not only the inoffensive ones.
So although I still won't wear a plunging neckline (for my own peace of mind) while ministering, I won't wear 3-piece tailored suits, either. I will wear what I find comfortable, practical, and-- dare I say it-- feminine.
Because that, world, is who I am.
The purpose of this wardrobe was, while well-dressed enough not to give offense, to draw as little attention as possible to myself or to the fact that I am a woman. I think part of that motivation was a good one; ie, especially when in ministry, I want people to be able to look past me and see Christ ministering to them. I consider myself a delivery person of God's blessings, and the packaging should not detract from that... However, I think I went a bit too far in the opposite direction... When I looked at my row of businesslike blazers, matronly trousers and shirts I wouldn't pair with my usual jeans or leggings, I became a bit thoughtful. Why was I being someone else? Whose expectations was I trying to meet, besides my own?
My thinking has changed partly because, in those same years when I was speaking and ministering in many different contexts, wearing my rather matronly MC as a matter of course, God was in the process of taking me on quite a different inner journey: that of morphing from Matron into Bride. I know, I know; at my age? And isn't that a little backward anyway? Isn't one first a bride, then a mother, then a matron? In human terms, yes, very much so. But since my identity in the natural as a bride had never really been developed, due to deficiencies in the relationship with my first husband, Dad had an agenda to focus on that area of my spiritual/inner development.
This may sound rather weird to you; I know it did to me. But it is undeniable that my relationship with Dad and with Jesus changed quite a lot during those years of working closely with Holy Spirit.
In the relatively quiet years just before beginning to travel internationally in 1999, I had developed quite a close personal relationship with my heavenly Dad. There was a period of parallel development of my relationship with my natural father; each seemed to reinforce the other, and gave me inner confidence I'd never had before. In the early years of traveling it was very easy to, as it were, curl up on Dad's lap and be his favored daughter (his term for me). But when I started visioning, it was mostly Jesus whom I encountered. So that relationship began developing along deeper lines as well.
Early on I had a few quite intimate visionary experiences with Jesus in which I, to my disappointment, realized that I could not quite relax with him as my Bridegroom. The intimacy problem was all on my side and I knew it. But as always, there was not even a hint of reproach from him, simply a loving willingness to patiently love me at whatever stage I was in.
At the same time he was in a sense "wooing" me from the outside; I repeatedly got unsolicited personal words from people who had no idea about my inner journey, speaking of the beauty Jesus saw in me, "engagement with the Bridegroom", "entering into the love relationship of the Godhead" and such things: all pointing in one direction and confirming my rather shaky, because unprecedented, inner journey. I also (re)discovered some of the old Christian mystics, many of whose experiences closely paralleled my own, if not even wilder. I didn't feel so alone.
In early 2006, my then-husband P and I went on a sabbatical. We'd been in ministry in Austria for over 20 years without one. It was supposed to be a time of rediscovering and enjoying each other, as well as looking toward the future and seeking what God had in store for us next, as it was clear to us when we'd left that we should soon be moving on from VG. However, due to the unhealthy dynamics in our marriage, this didn't really take place (and we never left VG until forced out). Most difficult for me was the fact that, because we were together for 5 months 24/7, I was unable to have enough space for my usual life-giving "down time" with God. By the time we returned to VG in May I was physically refreshed, but spiritually gasping for air.
You see, my times with Dad had been a counter-balance to (some would say a compensation tactic for) the emotional privations I experienced in our marriage. I was anything but a bride to P. He preferred a different body build, disliked many of my personal habits, disapproved of many of my personal choices, yet he also wanted motherly nurture from me (household functions) to compensate for what his own mother could never give him. I had accepted the matron role partly as the easiest way out of never being ale to satisfy P on most other levels.
With Dad, though, I was loved as just me; not only loved, but affirmed, treasured, appreciated, called forth, found beautiful-- all the things missing in my marriage. So as you can imagine I was very eager to crawl back into Dad's lap and "fill up" again-- and I was devastated when I found great difficulty getting back into that place. It was as if a door had shut. I simply couldn't enter in, and it was driving me mad. I did the usual "Have I sinned? What is wrong on my end?" agonizing but got nowhere.
Until Dad made it clear to me that nothing was wrong, that this was a deliberate stage on my journey. He wanted to introduce me to Jesus in a new way, as a bride and not just as his little daughter. It was clear he thought I was grown up enough now to take a journey I'd bypassed. As a new Christian I was very enamored of Jesus and rather afraid of The Heavenly Father (as he was represented); I'd picked up the wholly inaccurate idea that Dad was pissed off at sin, and therefore at me, and it was only Jesus' standing protectively between us that kept me from being smited on the spot. Hard to love a Dad who's holding a belt.
But somewhere along the way of developing into first a conservative biblicist, then a renewed Evangelical, then a River Rat... I found Dad to be completely different to that picture, and basked in his fatherhood. I suppose this basking filled some holes that had been there from my childhood; my own father was of the era that didn't really show affection. He was a righteous man but not a very warm one. And as I said, growing closer to my own father after the death of my mother was part of this healing process.
But Jesus as Bridegroom-- not just of his Church, but my very own? A concept I'd certainly heard expressed, but could not identify with. Isn't that what single girls who'd like to be married console themselves with? How does this apply to me?
As my marriage deteriorated more quickly after our return from sabbatical (and in hindsight, it's clear to me that it did-- we did not have the same goals, passions, or values and our personal choices increasingly reflected that), I drew inwardly closer to Jesus. This is hard to put into words, but he comforted me the way I had always wished P would. He understood me even when I was being unreasonable-- and since menopause was starting, I know I sometimes was, and am! He became very real to me.
So real, in fact, that we went through my wardrobe at that time and he -- this does sound strange, I know-- pointed out to me which clothes were just too matronly for me to keep. Shapeless dresses, baggy trousers, things I had worn to cover up the body P didn't like. Things that did not reflect what Jesus thinks of me: lovely and loveable, just as I am.
Then Jesus brought a flesh-and-blood bridegroom into my life, one who shares his opinions of me! This was such a surprise to me (and to A). I'd known A for some time as a friend, liked him very much, and knew we shared values and worked together well. In my hardest times of the past few years, A was the one friend who faithfully stood by me when it seemed everyone else was too full of shock, anger, and judgement about my divorce to recognize that I was really hurting and in need.
And there came a day I looked into A's eyes and saw what I'd prayed for years to see: Jesus' eyes, full of love for me. Not all too surprisingly, just as Dad had done when the development of my relationship to my natural father supported and undergirded a similar development in my relationship to him, through A I have finally been able to identify with Jesus as my Bridegroom. I now know what bridegroom love is like (you can find it in 1 Cor. 13). It is protective, kind, thoughtful. It thinks of the bride's needs first. It is not at all blind; it sees the bride's failings, but they are simply irrelevant. It delights in what she considered foibles or quirks. Most of all, it simply, faithfully, quietly loves in all circumstances.
If I ever do stand upon stages again to represent my Dad, I will do so not only as his favored daughter, but as his beloved daughter-in-law. Jesus is my Bridegroom, and A is my bridegroom: I am a bride, not a matron, and my clothing will reflect that. Whereas I earlier wrote: The purpose of this wardrobe was...to draw as little attention as possible to myself or to the fact that I am a woman, I now know that my glory is in being a woman, not a man. I don't need to (nor should I be expected to) dress like, speak like, or otherwise minister like a man, because Jesus' delight and Dad's glory is that I am a WOMAN.
Over half the Body of Christ has been disenfranchised (this is a large subject for several other posts!) for far too long, and even when "allowed" to minister, have had to conform to male standards in a male-oriented environment. I call to mind an intern in the ministry with which I formerly served. This was technically a woman, yes, but all her mannerisms and her ministry style were masculine (and no, she is not gay), because that was the acceptable standard. I no longer have any interest in conforming to or supporting that system. What you will get will be me, Just Holly, and that includes all my gender roles, not only the inoffensive ones.
So although I still won't wear a plunging neckline (for my own peace of mind) while ministering, I won't wear 3-piece tailored suits, either. I will wear what I find comfortable, practical, and-- dare I say it-- feminine.
Because that, world, is who I am.
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