Out On my Own

When I was planning my trip to Berlin for this research, over and over I was asked, "Is Michael coming with you?" Now, this is a logical question. We are married. I would be gone for several weeks. But somehow the question always took me by surprise. When I answered, "No, he's not," most people were shocked and responded with gasps and exclamations of, "Really?!," "Aren't you scared?!," or "You're going to be so lonely!" This is troubling and kind of problematic to me. Although, yes, I have been so dependent on Michael as a source of comfort, love, and care for years as my best friend, my boyfriend, my fiance, and my husband, I've still always considered myself pretty independent. This isn't to say, "Oh, I don't need him." It's just to say, well, I consider myself to be very capable on my own. I've dealt with a lot in life, and while it's extremely comforting to have someone going through life by my side now, I still don't want to lose sight of myself as a strong and capable woman.

Anyways, I would have liked to have Michael come along, to be honest. He's my best friend and my husband; obviously I enjoy his company. But first, I thought I'd barely be able to afford to go on my own and was hoping for just enough funding to get by. Once I realized that a lot of different funding sources wanted to offer me funding and figured that I would definitely be able to afford my own trip, I thought that maybe we could swing it to buy him a plane ticket so he could come too. But, by that point, I was only a couple weeks out from my departure date, and it was a little late to start the process to get him a passport (which I didn't think about until then). Part of me was pretty disappointed that I'd be away from him for seven weeks, but part of me was excited to solo travel.

Once I got here, it was a different story though. The first few days were extremely rough. I cried. A lot. I felt like 50 days solo abroad was going to be impossible. I was scared, lonely, and overwhelmed. I don't know when exactly things started changing for me; it happened kind of slowly I guess. I read a quotation that said something like, "Traveling alone allows you to enjoy your own company," and I realized that I didn't much like my own company. So at that point, maybe about one week into my trip, I decided that a sort of sub-project during my time here would be to figure out how to enjoy my own company, to work on myself.

The Guy on the U

After taking the u-bahn for the first time to get to church on my first Sunday here, I also had to take it to get back to my apartment. I had gone to lunch with the pastor and his family after church, and I had a pizza box with my leftovers that I carried with me, which I think must have been what was getting me several strange looks on the u-bahn.

When I was about half way there, a man sitting in the car just across from me looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back, and he asked, "Do you speak English?" The question brought me a strange relief, maybe because I had been having a bit of difficulty navigating Berlin in English, only knowing a handful of German words. I answered, "yes," and he proceeded to ask me where I was from and how long I had been living in Berlin. Our short conversation before he exited the train led to me giving him my name as it appears on facebook so we could connect. Now, I'm not usually one to give a total stranger any information about me, but what can I say? I was kind of desperate to make friends since I'm in this city alone, and I felt like facebook was a safe enough way to connect.

And we did connect. We decided to meet at 2pm the following Friday, May 27, to go get coffee or something. When we met up, we got on the train and he asked me about what I was doing in Berlin. After telling him that I'm here to research about refugees, he stopped me and said that I have to meet his friend who is with Singa Deutschland. Instead of going to get coffee, we got off the train, got on another train, and went to Kottbusser Tor. When we got off the train, he began walking briskly as I took two steps for every one of his to keep up. We ended up at Betahaus, where I was able to meet the founder of Singa and set up a time to interview her. I was also able to go to Singa's Livingroom Storytelling event last Thursday, which I think was a great way to get to know some people and seems to be a wonderful part of Singa's work.

The Livingroom Storytelling events are open for usually fewer than 15 people (this includes "newcomers" and "locals") and have some topic that they work around. I was told that one past topic was the meaning of your name. Thursday, June 2, the topic was your earliest memory. So the topics do not focus on some aspect of "the refugee experience," but instead seem to be centered on the human experience more generally. Personally, I think this is so great. In my studies, I've come across the term "the refugee experience" over and over. As academics, it's a phrase that indicates the experience of being in conflict or instability, the experience of fleeing, the experience of being in camps, the experience of being in transit, and the experience of resettlement. "The refugee experience" refers to all that in a neat, three-word phrase. I think Singa's work really challenges this, though. Singa sees refugees as people, which is not necessarily the case for all organizations. That's part of why Singa refers to the people volunteering in and benefiting from their work as "newcomers" and "locals." It doesn't have the connotation of legal status - rather, it just indicates whether you're new in Berlin or not. I really appreciate this terminology, and I feel like it's really useful.


Note: Photo above from Singa's Livingroom Storytelling Facebook event.

The First Few Days, or The Welcoming

As I've said, I'm behind on blogging... This post will focus mainly on a few moments during my first week or so here in Berlin during which I felt particularly welcomed or just moved by an act of kindness.

After spending a couple days on my own, wandering around my neighborhood by foot and trying to work up the confidence to get on the u-bahn (I was terrified that I was going to get hopelessly lost the second I got on), I finally was forced to give public transportation a try. I had connected with the Pentecostal missionaries here in Berlin and decided that I would be going to their church while I'm here. Moment of honesty: Although church has been a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember, in the last year, I realize it's really taken a much lower place on my list of priorities. I think this happened for a number of reasons... My pastor and his family, all of whom I loved dearly, moved away last February, this meant I was no longer as involved in that church since I didn't need to be around to coach their girls in Bible quizzing. We went through a period of looking for a new pastor, and I started skipping mid-week services with the excuse of being bust with school (which I really was in my last semester of my undergraduate degrees, finishing up two theses and classes). We got a new pastor by April or May, but then I had moved back to Denver for the summer before I would move up to Wyoming for graduate school in August. Since I was only going to be there for a short time, I didn't get involved in the church in Denver and sometimes I drove up to Loveland to go to church there instead. I felt like suddenly, I was no longer connected; for the first time in my life, I didn't have a church that I considered to be "my" church. Anyway, once I moved to Wyoming, I was coming to Denver almost every weekend to see my family, my fiance, and take care of wedding stuff. We got married in September, Michael moved to Wyoming, and we tried to figure out the church situation. Having both been in the Pentecostal church for years, we first went to the UPC church in Laramie. Without going into detail, I'll just say that we talked and decided we didn't want to be there. During the past school year, we spent a few Sundays visiting other churches, a couple Sundays at the UPC church, a couple at Loveland, several Sundays in Denver at our old church, and many Sundays at home. To be honest, although at one point in my life I would have been extremely convicted about missing so much church, during the school year, I didn't mind at all. I didn't feel bad. I kind of shrugged it off. Yet, I know that I want to be involved and connected in a church again, and I keep telling myself that I need to figure out where we need to be so we can reconnect. Anyway, although I haven't been consistently going to church for a while, I determined to do so while in Berlin both because I thought church would be good for me and because I knew I'd have a lot of alone time and could probably use the company.

So Sunday, May 22, I had to take two different underground trains to get to the church. And you know what? It wasn't hard at all! I had really worked myself up with nervousness about public transportation, but it was super simple. At the church, the pastor's family greeted me and asked about my research and how long I would be in Berlin before service started. After church, Pastor Suppan introduced me to a man in their congregation who he said was a refugee and might be able to help me. This man. Brother Sam, immediately said he would love to help and that we should meet the next Saturday and he'd take me to a refugee camp. I was really surprised how quickly he volunteered to help. We exchanged telephone numbers and agreed to meet the coming Saturday.

The next day, on Monday, May 23, I went to meet one of the two translators who will be working with me on my research as needed. We got together, and almost immediately, he volunteered to show me around Berlin a bit. We took the u to Alexanderplatz, where we walked around and got dinner at KFC (his suggestion as it's one of his favorite places). He told me about how he got to Berlin; he himself is a refugee from Syria, and in Syria, his family were refugees from Palestine. We then got on a bus that travels all around the city and passes some major tourist sites. We took the bus to the other end of town by the zoo and walked along the river for a while. Somewhere in conversation it came up that my phone wouldn't work to send texts to German numbers, and he suggested that he lend me an extra phone he had. I'd just have to buy minutes for it. So after walking around a bit more, we went across town again to go to his apartment. He welcomed me in, I met his roommate, and we all talked over some Coke while he charged the phone. I know these are kind of small gestures, showing me around, lending me a phone, pouring me a glass of Coke, but really, they meant the world to me.

The welcoming continued on Saturday when I met Brother Sam to go to the refugee camp. I took a train from Alexanderplatz to meet him, and then we got on a bus. When we got on, he motioned for where I should sit and stood in the aisle waiting for me to get into the seat nearest the window of the bus. He saw some people he apparently knew further back in the bus and took a few steps over to them to talk for a moment. When he came back and sat next to me, he asked how I was liking Berlin, checked that I got to Köngis Wusterhausen, the train station where we had met, with no problem. He explained that we had to pay extra for the bus because this was travelling within the C zone. I remembered reading about that on a website with information about public transportation in Berlin before coming. We talked as we rode along, and he commented that the camp was pretty far away from the train station. As we got closer, he noted, “I have not been to the camp since I left. Once I could get out, I never looked back.” I felt even more appreciative thinking about how it could be tough for him to return.

When we got off the bus, he approached three younger guys, probably about my own age, who had also gotten off the bus. He introduced me, and they each shook my hand and greeted me with smiles. As we waited for the cars that had stopped behind the bus to pass so we could cross the street, one passenger who was young and white, I assume German, leaned out of his rolled down window and made sort of loud, barking noises at us. A couple of the young men shook their heads, and Brother Sam told me, “You see, this kind of things happens to us. Some people will say bad things or yell at us, but we just must let it go. What can we do?” When we crossed the street, Brother Sam explained that I was a student at a university in America and I’m doing some research about refugees and then said, “Well, maybe you can explain better.” I told them that I was doing research about why refugees come to Germany and what kinds of challenges they have here.We walked a short distance along a fence to a gate, and one of the guys retrieved a key from his pocket. We entered the camp without a problem. It struck me as somehow odd that there was no procedural hassle getting in. I expected to have to check in, to have to tell someone who I was and why I was there, but the gate was unmanned, and as far as I could tell, no camp officials were present. Brother Sam had told me that I might be surprised by the camp as it wasn’t just tents or something. I thought that it might be like a large facility, a gymnasium or something, with makeshift cubicles within. However, the camp was much like dorms, the buildings resembling apartment buildings.

We followed the three guys we were with into one of the buildings, and we went up the stairs into one of their rooms. It was small, but not much smaller than the main room of the apartment I have here. There were two beds on the left, and closets, a table and chairs on the right. The guy, Mesfin, pulled a chair out and told me to sit there, so I did. He asked if Brother Sam and I would like water, orange juice, or Coke and pulled out a few cups. I thanked him and told him I had a water bottle, but he poured me some water anyway. Mesfin took another chair, and Brother Sam took a seat on the bed. My interviews would start with Mesfin and Tesfay, two of the three guys. The third, who didn’t seem to be understanding much of our conversation before, kind of disappeared when we got to Mesfin’s room. Brother Sam was also there, and part of the way through, Mesfin’s roommate, Merhawi, came in. After we finished up in Mesfin’s room, Mesfin and Brother Sam took me down the hallway to see the community bathroom and kitchen and then down the stairs to another room where I met Marwan, a Syrian man. Mesfin stayed during this interview, but Brother Sam left to try to find more people.  Brother Sam sent in three more people, and after finishing up with that group, Brother Sam took me to a family room where we talked with a lady, Sanura, for a few minutes before running to catch the bus. We ran up to say good bye to Mesfin before leaving, and he had made us a pizza, which he insisted we take with us. It amazes me how people with so little can be so generous.

From Brother Sam's generous offer to take me back to the refugee camp he used to live in, to my translator's several hours spent chatting with me, showing me around Berlin, and giving me Coke and a cell phone, to Mesfin's hospitality in his small room in the refugee camp, in the first few days of my time in Berlin, I was warmly welcomed again and again in several small ways that I will always remember.

Note: As many of the people I referred to in this post are research participants, several names are pseudonyms to protect confidentiality.

Kottbusser Tor

A few days after I arrived here in Berlin, on Tuesday, May 24, I visited Kottbusser Tor for the first time. If the rest of Berlin is loud and crowded, Kottbusser Tor is deafening and bursting. The place is overflowing with life. People hurry past to and from the U-Bahn station, a grocery store, restaurants, cafes, other small shops, and apartments seem to be piled on top of each other, people are shouting, intersections are full of traffic.

I went to Kottbusser Tor on that Tuesday to meet one of the students from the Freie University of Berlin who will be working with me as a translator as needed. I had only Skyped and emailed her before, but once I got here we decided to meet up, and she suggested Kottbusser Tor. We would meet in front of the Kaiser's (a grocery store), where some apparently homeless people sat, where people came up from and went down to the U, and where I stood awkwardly waiting for about 15 minutes. As she was running late, she ended up texting me to go to Cafe Kotti, which was just a bit down Adalbertstrasse and up some stairs.I found it pretty easily, which surprised me, and I sat in a cloud of cigarette smoke and ordered a chai tea.

Since that Tuesday, Kottbusser Tor has become a favorite area of mine to stop and wander around. The stop is on my way to my apartment most times (it depends of which U-Bahn I'm taking), and if I have extra time, I actually enjoy getting off there and wandering around. I thought the part of Schoneberg where I live was diverse, but Kottbusser Tor is even more so. Japanese, Singaporean, Chinese, Thai, Turkish, Indian, and even Mexican restaurants line Oranienstrasse, a street close by the U-Bahn stop. An array of smaller cafes, clothing stores, electronic stores, random knickknack stores, book stores, etc. are crammed together. People crowd the sidewalks and cars pack the streets. People sit on the curbs, against buildings, or in the middle of the sidewalks begging, eating, or just taking a break. According to the Wikipedia page, the area is known for drug-related crime and is also affectionately referred to as "Kotti."

And there at Kottbusser Tor, this busy, bustling, brimming corner of the world, is Betahaus. Betahaus is probably the coolest working environment I've ever seen. I went there for the first time on May 27, when I met up with a guy who I had randomly met on the U-Bahn the previous Sunday afternoon. I told him a bit about what I was doing here, and just like that, he decided I had to meet a friend of his who runs an organization called Singa Deutschland (more about them in an upcoming post). We went there and talked to her briefly, and I'm getting at least one interview and also meeting some more fantastic people as a result! The second time I went to Betahaus was to meet someone who works with MigrantHire, which is a fantastic organization that is striving to help newcomers coming to Berlin as refugees and migrants find jobs. I had the opportunity to interview someone involved in this work, which was just inspiring.

Clearly, I'm a little behind on posting about how things are going, but more about my trip to come soon!

Willkommen in Berlin

Berlin. A conglomerate of cultures.

My first impression was that it was a place of contradictions where opposites of every kinds might be found. Now, I believe it would more accurately be described as a conglomerate because while "contradiction" implies that there are two opposing factors, "conglomerate" is more descriptive of the mix of several things, held together by something indescribable.

I've been in Berlin for just over a week now, and I have just under six more weeks to spend here in this interesting city. I have a studio/economy apartment in Schoneberg in a neighborhood apparently known for its variety of gay bars and cafes and Turkish food. In a few block radius of my apartment, you could find several gay bars, cafes, and clothing stores, Turkish restaurants, Indian restaurants, and several massage studios and antique stores. Also in the area are several cafes, a burger place, pizza, Vietnamese food, Korean BBQ, Thai food, a hookah bar, a book store, and a couple grocery stores. Eclectic.

Berlin seems to be home to people with every shade of skin, every background, from every culture. This crowded, dirty, noisy city seems to be packed with people from all walks of life.

Graffiti in Schoneberg

Let's Talk... My Views on the Syrian Refugee Issue

I've been thinking about picking up with blogging again since I started in the MA program in the Global and Area Studies department at the University of Wyoming in August, but since I'm in grad school now, I'm busier than ever. This blog has not exactly been at the top of my priority list, and carving out time in my schedule to blog has been nearly impossible. However, with everything going on in the world right now and the vast array of responses I've seen, I thought I would weigh in on things. What I had to say was going to be much longer than a facebook post or a tweet's worth, so I thought now was the perfect time to start this up again.

First, let me clarify my positionality. I believe there is no such thing as an objective stance on an issue, so let me be the first to admit my personal biases. I've worked with refugees and international students, I've made long-lasting friendships with Muslims, and I'm currently deep in research for my MA thesis that pertains to the Syrian refugee crisis. That being said, I think these things illuminate my view rather than cloud my judgement. So yes, I'm going there... I'm going to delve right into the midst of the controversy and explain my own thoughts about whether or not the United States should accept refugees.

Wednesday, soon after I arrived at my office, I got a call from a colleague of mine. It was strange timing, but this particular colleague has been connecting me with many people for my research, so I thought perhaps it pertained to that. When I answered, he immediately said, "Did you see what Mead did?!" I hadn't, but he proceeded to tell me that Wyoming's governor, Matt Mead, had joined several other state governors in refusing Syrian refugees. After the attacks on Paris on Friday, November 13, security concerns about refugees have spread throughout a large number of European nations and U.S. states. Beginning on Sunday, U.S. governors started declaring their refusal of refugees. As of Wednesday, 31 states' governors had issued statements refusing refugees. Here's a nice graphic from PBS to give you an idea of which states these are.

Now, states do not actually have the power to make these kinds of decisions. Without getting too deeply into that, I'll just say that the Refugee Act of 1980, which was an amendment to the Immigration and Nationality Act and the Migration and Refugee Assistance Act, signed into effect by President Jimmy Carter, places the power to admit (or deny) additional refugees in the hands of the President and the Attorney General.

Anyway, my colleague, knowing that I am conducting research on a certain aspect of the Syrian crisis, wanted to see if I would be interested in somehow letting Governor Mead know that the entirety of the Wyoming population is not against refugees. While some governors may have been more informed, it seemed to us like Mead rushed to this decision to go along with what other republican governors are doing (all but one state governor who are against accepting refugees are republican). Just to clarify, Wyoming doesn't even have a refugee resettlement program. Thus, this should not necessarily be a big concern for the state. However, Mead also claimed that there are no refugees in the state right now, and I highly doubt that.

My colleague and I decided we would talk more once he got to my office (and I'll save the outcome of that talk for another post). In the mean time, I read several news articles from various sources (I like to read an array of sources to see the biases in things and get a better picture of the whole story). I also browsed my facebook news feed to see what kinds of things my friends were saying about the matter. The more I read, the more disheartened with humanity I became. The sheer hate that people were expressing was staggering, and let me tell you, throughout the day Wednesday, I refrained from commenting on all but three things because I knew I wouldn't be able to help myself from calling people out on their ignorance. I wanted to gather my thoughts before posting anything or commenting. But, in case you were wondering, here are the three things I felt warranted me opening my mouth...

I believe this was the first thing I commented on. I'd seen it being reposted by a number of my "friends," and I got tired of shaking my head and scrolling on each time. I would copy and paste my comment, but the person whose post I commented on deleted it instead of replying. I said something like, "I understand people are scared, but the ignorance of this post is mind-blowing. 10 in 10,000 is nowhere close to the number of refugees that could pose a threat to the US. This is a terrible thing to spread."

This lovely image to the right is the second thing I commented on. As a Pentecostal from Colorado, I have the Colorado Pentecostals page "liked" on facebook. I saw this post because a friend of mine shared it. It actually drove me to tears. I took a screenshot so I could repost it here. Here's what I said in response:

"I understand that people are coming from a place of fear; however, it deeply saddens me to see Colorado Pentecostals comment on this in such a way. When I saw this post in my news feed earlier, I was brought to tears and ashamed that I am affiliated with this page. As someone who is educated on these issues and is currently doing research and an MA thesis on issues pertaining to refugees, I can only assume that whoever is responsible for this page did not take the time to fully understand. Please stop spreading this hatred. It is not the Christian thing to do."

I also added this link to my comment https://meredithbrunson.wordpress.com/2015/11/17/to-american-christians-who-reject-refugees/
(Kudos to the author. I think what you said is wonderful!)

Throughout the day I began to notice a trend in my news feed that I thought was interesting. Generally, my friends who I know because they're former professors, friends who I know because we had a class together once, my fellow McNair scholars, and fellow grad students were all posting things about how ridiculous it is to equate Islam with terrorism or to equate terrorism with refugees, about how states don't have the power to refuse refugees or about general humanitarian issues for refugees. On the other hand, generally all my Christian (Pentecostal and other denominations alike) friends were posting about how refugees are dangerous, how Muslims are terrorists, and how the U.S. ought to keep "them" out. What can I even say? This breaks my heart.

I said I commented on three posts. The third was the post of a Christian young lady who shared the link above, "To American Christians who reject refugees" and said, "This applies to more than the American Christian refusing refugees... Everyone read it and reexamine yourself." Yes, she got backlash for saying that. However, other than my husband, she was the ONLY Christian facebook friend I have who brought this to light, so I commented telling her she was amazing for posting it.


Finally, here's what I have to say to you all:

To my Muslim friends,
I am so deeply sorry that you have to constantly defend your religion. I am sorry that people see you wearing a hijab or hear you speaking in Arabic and automatically shy away from you in fear. I am so sorry for many of my fellow Americans' and my fellow Christians' feelings toward you. Let me apologize for my nation's media, for our gossip, and for our actions that spread hatred and equate you and your religion to terrorism. It is not right, and it is not fair.

To my refugee friends,
You have changed my life and opened my mind. You are wonderful, amazing, strong people who I have never seen act in violence or aggression. I am sorry people in this country think that accepting you will somehow hurt them. I am sorry that people would rather judge you and discriminate against you than learn about you, your experiences, and your culture. It's such a shame. My life has been enriched by you, and I am a better person for knowing you.

To Wyomingites,
Wyoming is supposed to be the "equality state," yet I've never in my life experienced such racial discrimination as I have here. If Wyoming truly was about equality, you would not be so quick to turn away refugees. Wyoming is nearly 93% White, and diversity is almost nonexistent and is rarely welcomed here. Inclusion of underrepresented groups is an issue on the UW campus, and it is an issue in this state, which I am learning more and more each day. I know you may be convinced that refugees are too much of a threat, and I know you may think that Governor Mead did the right thing, but I would encourage you to think about the kind of environment you are creating in your "equality state" by being so hate-filled. I hope that you can open your arms and your hearts to diversity. I hope that you can open your mind to education about the issues you are concerned about.

To my fellow Christians,
As I expressed before, spreading hatred is not the Christian thing to do. Matthew 25, specifically verses 34-45, is the attitude we ought to be taking on.
The Old Testament contains several verses about welcoming the foreigner, or stranger, showing them kindness, and even providing for their needs. The New Testament contains the greatest commandment, to love God with your all of your heart, soul, and mind, and the second greatest, to love your neighbor as yourself. And who is your neighbor? Read the story of the good Samaritan.
Think about this... Jesus Christ was turned away and rejected by people from the time he was unborn in his mother's womb as Mary and Joseph searched for a place to stay until the time He died. In fact, He's still rejected by people today. We preach the love of Christ and yet we turn our backs in hatred and in rejection of people who are deeply in need. How dare we?
As Christians, we should be shining examples of mercy, love, and compassion. I could insert a list of verses to prove this, but I think you all know them... you just have to remember them now.

To my fellow patriotic Americans,
I had an English professor who would say that proving you're really American meant sticking it to the next immigrant group. History proves this is true. It seems the most recent immigrant group is always the most avid haters of the next. With the current issue of Syrian refugees though, it seems like everyone is getting in on the hatred.
I understand that you may be afraid of the security threats that bringing in refugees may pose. That is a very real fear, and I do not take it lightly. However, I do not think our great nation should be characterized by fear. I also do not think our great nation should be characterized by hatred or Islamophobia. If you are one of the people afraid or concerned about our nation's security, I encourage you to educate yourself further about the refugee resettlement process to this country. Maybe start with this video:
How Do Refugees Enter The U.S.?
Without saying anything about either Huffington Post or Obama (seen towards the end of the video), I can tell you that the process shown here is accurate. I know this from my time working with refugees in Colorado. Trust me, the U.S. is not sending planes to pick up huge groups of people from the middle of nowhere and dropping them off at the airport nearest you. It is extremely difficult for a refugee to gain entrance into our country. They have to be referred to us from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), considered high risk enough (therefore this is usually mostly women and children), and then they have to get through a series of background checks, interviews, and health screenings. Syrian refugees cannot just walk right in.
In this time, I think we ought to remember our history.
It's time we remember what being an American really means.
You know what the inscription on the Statue of Liberty says?

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:

I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

Our founding fathers were refugees in a way. This country has been built on the backs of refugees. In fact, in a sense, we are all refugees and immigrants. Maybe you yourselves are not, but unless you are full blooded Native American, look a few generations back and you'll fine refugees and/or immigrants. We are all tied to them. We are them. And I think that's part of what makes this country so great.



If you made it to the end of this long, long post, thanks so much for reading. I realize these ideas are contentious, and I would love to have a dialogue with you about anything and everything I've talked about. Feel free to comment; however, I ask that we try to keep comments a dialogue and not an attack. It would be great if we could approach each other with respect and understanding about where we're coming from and why we think the way we do.

Shaken Foundation

I feel like I should preface this post with a cautionary note... I know some of my readers are closely tied to some of the things I'll be discussing, so I just want to say, I'm sharing my thoughts, and if they offend you, feel free to take it up with me. However, I will not apologize for the personal thoughts I share here.



Last year at this time, I was in turmoil about my true spiritual/religious beliefs. The ground upon which I thought myself to be firmly planted was suddenly shaken, and everything - yes, everything - was uncertain. To help you understand just how much my world was shaken, I'll give some background.

I was raised "in church." Let me be more specific. I was raised in a United Pentecostal Church (UPC). We had church on Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. As I got older, I also participated in prayer meetings on Mondays, Bible studies on Tuesdays, youth service on Fridays, and Bible quizzing on Saturdays. Yeah, that's a lot of church. No, I never minded it.

If you don't know about the UPC, let me try to briefly share some... This gets difficult, because I think you see it very differently from the inside out than from the outside in, and I feel like I can see it both ways, at least to some extent. So, let me try to do both... From the outside in, I'm sure it looks pretty strange. They (especially the women) look different because of some physical standards they observe. They act differently in church service and are very open, even "crazy" with their worship. Further, they may tend to seem very exclusive, arrogant even. Now, from the inside out, we are adamant and unwavering in our beliefs. We believe exactly what the Bible says, and we include the whole thing, not just bits and pieces. We want everyone to experience the wonderful truth we know.

That whole thing about including the whole thing, not just bits and pieces... I'm not so sure... Somewhere, it seems like we've forgotten that first and greatest commandment and the second one, which is pretty important too...

Master, which is the great commandment in the law?

Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

This is the first and great commandment.

And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

 

But, I never saw that before. I was raised this way, and I didn't see anything else until I was 18 years old and moved away to go to college. Now, in the UPC there is this stigma about going to college and leaving "the church." I didn't do that. I got my pastor's permission, and I moved about 70 miles north to go to the University of Northern Colorado. And when I went, I went to another UPC church out there. So what changed? Nothing at first. But (and this actually goes along with the stigma), the more I learned, the more open minded I became, the more a grew... the less I felt the strong conviction that had tied me to "the church" all along. These were my convictions too, not things which were forced upon me. A lot of the "young people" are in church because their parents make them go. I never had that. My parents were raised in the same church I was raised in, but they never went when I was growing up.

I personally was deeply convinced of everything I believed and was convicted that we had the one true way of salvation. I based my life on this set of beliefs. My entire world view was determined by them. Well, a lot changed for me... You have to see that when this foundation was shaken, it changed everything. I didn't understand anything, and my life was definitely characterized by an atmosphere of dazed, lost confusion.




I'm going to leave it at that for now... I feel like this subject will take several posts, and I know right now with this first one, it doesn't necessarily seem to relate to the topic of the blog. But I'll continue these thoughts with the next post...