So I keep my mouth shut. Of course there is a problem with this: something big happens and you want to share it with the world but you still really haven’t made the sweeping declaration of faith that logically comes before the big announcement. Sure, the sweeping declaration of faith isn’t really necessary, you’ve been dropping hints the whole time, but you still recognize that it has to be done just in case people were not paying attention.

Here goes: My name is Dorie and I am Christian. I believe in strong faith-based communities rooted in geographical areas. I believe with a missionary spirit in your own home time. I believe God calls us to do his good works in Jesus’ name. I believe Jesus died for my sins and I am forgiven. (I also believe in predestination but I haven’t worked it all out in my head in a way that I can easily and lovingly explain – I am not a theologian).

Which leaves us with the heart of what needs to be said, the big announcement instead of stating the obvious.

We’re planting a church. We’re planting a church in Bristol. We’re planting a church because it turns out it was more than just me that felt called to Bristol. We’re planting a church because we are called to love this community as God loves us.

(For me, the above paragraph is the spiritual equivalent of “We’re having a baby” only Brian and I are not having a baby, we are having a church and other people are involved whereas baby making would be an act that would just be us.)

For the last three months on Sunday nights, a group has been meeting in our living room to share a meal and share worship together. I’ve loved every minute of it, even when I was too tired to get off of the couch. Some of the people I’ve known for a while, others were new faces that are quickly becoming dear friends.

I know it is going to take a lot of work in the months and years ahead but that’s just what happens when you build a community, whether it be online or in person. I am just blessed to say I am on the journey.

We didn’t hang lights from the front of the house either. I don’t really have an interest in going outside in the cold to hang lights from the house. I’d rather be warm. My husband works hard everyday and when he gets a day off, he’d rather be renovating the inside of our home than putting transition objects on the outside of it. I don’t blame him.

We didn’t really buy gifts this year either. I picked up a few things for Brian – things he needed for work and a trinket he would value for years to come. We really don’t need more things to fill our space. And I’d rather save the money for new furniture for our new house.

As far as festive holiday cheer, we’ve baked a lot of cookies while listening to Christmas music (Brian is very, very close to perfecting his peanut butter cookie recipe and each batch turns out better than the last). I’ve folded hundreds of paper stars and given them as gifts when the moment arises. My grandfather taught me how to make stars when I was a little girl and watching my fingers fly through strips of parchment is a reminder of who I am and what I am made from.

So far, it has been a very low key Christmas. And I enjoy it far more than I ever thought I would.

We’ve tried to have low key Christmases in the past but it has always fallen through. Inevitably, someone would get very upset about the lack of presents and we would cave. (One year, we tried to have a book Christmas where we announced that the only gifts we wanted to give or receive would be books but then no one bought us books and we ended up with even more stuff.)

This year we have a recession to help us out.

Maybe the recession is good for our souls, reminding us that we really don’t need all of the stuff that we think we need, want and desire. I might love the jewelry that my husband gives me but I really don’t need it to be happy. I find that I’m usually happiest on the days we are curled up together with a pot of tea and a good book in hand. My laptop might be nice to have but my laptop isn’t going to offer to rub my feet when I’ve been in heals all day and I’m getting cranky.

And none of the stuff would make me happy if I didn’t have a husband to share it.

Sure there is a part of me that still gets excited at the idea of Santa Claus coming. When the local fire department drives around with Santa on the back of the truck, I can’t help myself from running to the front of the house and yelling “Merry Christmas” at the volunteers. But really, it is the community that comes together to create that experience for the neighborhood that gets me excited. And in the context, Santa has very little to do with the experience.

I don’t think we’re really Pro-Christmas in the Morgan household, but we certainly aren’t Anti-Christmas either. We’re in this weird middle ground because it isn’t about the presents and the hoopla and the chaos and the madness. And then I realize that Christmas is really just the most visible reflection of our family’s priorities compacted into one emotionally charged day.

This is the first of two posts by Gary about suburban poverty.  I hope it makes you a little uncomfortable and I hope it makes you want to change something.

When most people think of poverty in America, they think urban or rural.  Yet more than half of those in poverty in America live in suburbia.  Bucks County (where I live) is one of the wealthiest counties in Pennsylvania, yet 5% of the county lives below the poverty line.  While the problems of suburban poverty often mirror those of the city, the defining characteristic of suburban poverty is disconnection. 

      In suburbia, communities do not function as integrated units.  We do not know the neighbors.  We rarely walk anywhere in the community.  We do not know who owns the stores in which we shop.  Public places, such as parks, community centers, or local cafes, almost never serve as meeting points.  As a result, all of our relational encounters are voluntary.  And birds of a feather flock together.  To the middle class, the poor become invisible.  We do not see them, hear them, or know them. Most people in suburbia are ignorant of the poverty in their own backyard.  It is common for churches and other community organizations to seek to help the poor, driving past the budget motel and the low-end apartment complex on their way to the inner-city.

      Because we are disconnected from those in poverty, we do not build communities that accommodate the poor.  Low-income housing is neglected in favor of faceless high-end housing that will increase the tax base (as though someone who buys a characterless house on a characterless street in a characterless town will have a great investment in the community).  The poor are forced to scrape for housing they cannot afford.  Budgets become fragile, making homelessness a real threat.  Those who can afford housing often do so by working hours that disconnect them from their families. 

      When low-income housing is built, it is usually tucked away behind the strip mall or next to the railroad tracks or off the highway; places we drive by at 75 mph and hence, never see.  The end result is very small ghettos – pockets of poverty that mirror the worst inner-city neighborhoods, but due to their size and location, are invisible.  It is hard to overlook the 25 square miles of poverty in North Philadelphia (though we do our best).  It is very easy to overlook the apartment complex.  We do not know the poor, so we do build communities that accommodate the poor and their isolation is furthered.  Disconnection breeds disconnection. 

      This disconnection is difficult to overcome because suburbia presumes the automobile.  Without a car in suburbia, you are screwed.  I work with single parents trying to overcome poverty in Bucks County.  Imagine trying to coordinate day care, a job, school, and visits to your case manager when you live in a town where the bus comes once an hour to a stop that is half a mile away.  Imagine getting to the grocery store and back.   The middle class do not ride public transportation so they do not invest in it.  And the bus becomes the ghetto, a small convoy of the poor, disconnected from their community.

      Even the most motivated person has trouble overcoming suburban poverty.  I used to work at a homeless shelter in downtown Denver and within a ten-minute walk, one could reach the free clinic, the day shelter, the food bank, the social security office, and hundreds of jobs.  But while I was there, gentrification was dispersing poverty, pushing the poor into the outer rings of the city and into suburbia.  Bucks County has many social programs to help the poor, from welfare to job training programs.  But they are disconnected.  The locations are disconnected.  The organizations are disconnected.  Those who take advantage of them will find themselves trying to put together a puzzle of pieces that don’t create a clear picture.

      Urban ghettos can be places of immense oppression, where the depth of suffering is palpable.  But urban ghettos can also be places where tragedy binds residents together in vibrant community.  The suburban poor are more likely to find themselves alone – isolated from communities where prosperity is the norm – a silent anhedonic suffering.    Physically, socially, and spiritually, suburban poverty is an experience of disconnection.

When I was in college, it was so much easier.  The theatre association I joined assigned every new member a mentor, it was just up to you to maintain the relationship.  When I joined my sorority, you picked your big and your big then mentored you through out your Greek Life experience (and I still go to my big when I’m mulling over major life decisions, Thanks Michelle!).  When I was elected president of my chapter, there was an alumnae member just waiting to be my advisor.  Everything was provided for me.

But now, I have to find my own mentors.  And I don’t know where to begin.  I really don’t have a mentor for my career or a mentor for blogging. 

I’m more concerned though about finding a mentor for my marriage.  Because, at the end of the day, I will only be married once.  Making this work, and in a healthy way, is so important.  I won’t get another shot at a happy marriage but there will always be a second chance with my career.

There are a few reasons why finding a couple to mentor my marriage is so hard.

1. So many marriages end in divorce.  And so many marriages end after the kids have already grown and left the house.  I don’t want to be mentored by someone whose marriage is falling apart but at the same time, you don’t really know if a marriage is successful until one of its partners has died.
2. We would have to find a couple that would be beneficial for both of us. This mentoring relationship wouldn’t just be about me and the mentor but me, my husband and the mentoring couple.  Just thinking about establishing a relationship makes me realize just how different Brian and I truly are.
3. My husband and I are Christians.  Brian has a Pentecostal upbringing whereas I have a Presbyterian past.  But here’s where it gets complicated: I broke away from the church for years (hello sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll). It took a long time for me to come back to the church and when I did, I discovered it was really difficult for me to relate to other Christians.  Brian, on the other hand, has no past like that to deal with and address.  My past is just as much a part of my marriage as the present we now share.  We encounter very few Christian couples who understand what that sort of past really means.

With that being said, not having a mentor is just not a good idea.  But I’m not quite sure where I am supposed to go next.  And when something is so important, how do you establish criteria without crippling yourself in the process?  It almost feels more difficult than the decision to become a married couple. 

Where do you find your best mentors?  And how do you establish that relationship once you have realized the potential?

I am going to hurl.

The problem with these resolutions is two-fold. The first problem is that it says very little or very negative things about your current relationship with God. The second problem is a big more concerning: what will happen to your faith if you do not accomplish your goal? There are probably many other problems that can be mentioned but these are two very important problems to start this examination.

Let me expand by adopting the premise that I am going to read the entire Bible and pray more in 2008. Neither are my goals for the year but I believe it will serve as a good example.

What do these goals tell me about my current relationship with God? First, it tells me that my relationship with Christ has not been a priority in the past. Or rather, using the two measuring sticks of faith called “frequent prayer” and “Bible reading” my faith has been inadequate and it needs to be improved. However, changing these habits to make one’s faith agreeable to these measuring sticks does not automatically improve one’s relationship with God. For example, I can read every page of the Bible. I can memorize every word that escaped Jesus’ mouth. I can read the Bible in its original language. I can become a Biblical Scholar.

None of that means that I have become a better Christian. None of it makes me a better wife to my husband. None of it makes me a better representation of the Christian Faith. I am not “Christ-like” because I have read every page of the Bible.

But it creates a false image. Its creates the idea that by completing certain goals and tasks, one can become a better Christian and in turn a better person and in turn have a better seat in the kingdom of God. While that feeds into the middle class dream of suburbia quite nicely, it does very little for a life of true Christian faith. It only fuels a false image to those in our community of how “godly” we are, feeding our egos and pulling us father from God and Christ.

But the second problem is much larger and has a devastating long term impact. What happens when we fail? What will happen to our faith when we do not reach our goal? Or worse, what will happen to our faith when we reach our goal? As Max Bemis of Say Anything points out “Like Judas the Traitor, we are both favored and deeply flawed”.

We fail. We are humans and we have fallen from grace. We are imperfect people in an imperfect world and we ache for the closeness we once shared with God. We ache to walk with God and to feel complete. We are tempted and we sin and we make mistakes. We search for forgiveness and we grant our own forgiveness sparingly. Setting a goal for faith does leave us in a good position for failure.

What happens when I vow to pray every single day in 2008? Do I have to beg myself and God for forgiveness when I miss a prayer? Or are my prayers filled with the simple requests of children but with none of the heart behind them? And what happens during times of doubt when prayer does not come easily? What happens when prayers are not answered the way I want and in the time I demand?

The rift between me and my maker grows deeper at my own doing? I will have set myself up for failure.

More alarmingly, what happens if I succeed? God will not descend upon me, although if I am truly heartfelt in my 366 daily prayers, I will most likely find peace and grace. But I will not find world peace. I will not discover that there is no more political divide (sadly, I will not find that liberal ideals are no longer forced at me in social situations). I will not find that I suddenly know the meaning of life. And if these were things that I expected as a result of my resolution, what will happen to my relationship with Jesus? Will I still know in my heart of hearts that he is, in fact, my savior? Or will it add to the jaded, cynical edge that taints the rest of my life?

The theme between these problems is simple: by making God part of our To Do List, we attempt to stop God from working in His own mysterious ways. We try to make God another aspect of our day planners. And God cannot be compartmentalized in that way. He won’t be. He refuses to be. And he refuses to fit into our areas of convenience by shaking us up.

These goals take away the true meaning of Christ. As Christ’s followers, we need to be able to go out into the world and do the work of God. And we need to be willing to surrender to the inconvenience of it. We need to be open to those moments not falling within the boundaries of our carefully planned lives.

God is not on my resolution list this year. He’ll do what ever he wants regardless of my vows.

On Saturday afternoon, I found myself shopping in Macy’s for dress clothes for Brian with my father which was not something I had planned to do. I had planned to go to my parents’ house, have my mother iron Brian’s new dress shirt and then head home but my mother’s quick departure to a hair appointment threw a wrench in those plans. I was grateful when my father offered to show me how to iron the dress shirt but one burnt fifty-five dollar French cuff shirt later, I was wondering if I made the correct decision.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, Macy’s was having their Labor Day One Day Sale on Saturday which meant prices were great but the lines were massive. We managed to find something similar to the burnt shirt in the very last one in Brian’s size. The line seemed to go on forever and very quickly, I found myself engaged in awkward conversation with my father.

My dad is not really a much of a talker in the best of circumstances. He’s a quiet guy, insightful. He’s the type of man that you have significant conversations with at home or in a nice restaurant on a predetermined date. He is not the type of man who wants to have a great conversation in line at a Macy’s. Whereas I’m the type of girl who does want to have those conversations.

We very quickly burned through the conversation he was willing to make. So I moved on to birthdays, anniversaries, upcoming significant family events. It just so happens that my parents’ sixteenth wedding anniversary is in two weeks so I asked my dad what he and my mom would like for a gift.

I was quickly alerted that this was an inappropriate question for me to ask. My father, apparently, believes that an anniversary is a private, intimate event between two people. An anniversary has nothing to do with anyone other than the two people who were involved.

I was shocked. And mildly insulted.

In a strange way, I realized that the words coming out of my father’s mouth went against everything I was raised to believe. And somehow, I felt like I was being left out in the cold by my family.

As a child raised with just a mother, I knew any marriage she was able to make was also a marriage with me. A potential husband for her was a potential father for me. We were a package deal and there was no way to separate us. My mother’s second husband adopted me following the wedding, making him the only father I have ever known. The marriage that took place in September of 1991 marks not only the beginning of my mother’s life with my father but the beginning of stability for me as well. Their anniversary is far more than just them.

Even more importantly, I was hurt as a Christian. A wedding between a man and a woman is not a rope with two strands but a rope with three strands representing Man, Woman and God. My father seemed to be leaving God out of his marriage. I also believe that a marriage is an event with in a community and therefore, shouldn’t the anniversary of that marriage also be an event within a community? If it does not continue to have that significance, then why do we take the time and effort to engage in premarital counseling through the Church, have the wedding ceremony take place in a Church and then invite a multitude of family and friends to the event? It seems to me that in order for a marriage to be successful, a community needs to stand behind it and in it. The support of other followers of Christ is what separates Christian marriages from our contemporary counterparts.

I’m still not sure what I want to say to my dad on the matter. I did some sleuthing and discovered where they are celebrating the day with a meal. It’s my intent to do something nice to mark the day, regardless of his desire for my involvement. Maybe its stubbornness or maybe it is a desire to be more Christ like in my actions. I have yet to determine which option it is.

Let’s start off by saying I am not Catholic. I am no where remote to Catholic. At this point, I don’t even quite know how to describe myself in terms of Christianity. I would describe myself as a follower of Christ but I would not identify myself as a Christian. As a Presbyterian, I believe in predestination (in the comforting thought context) but I no longer worship in a Presbyterian Church. I attend a nondenominational church but I do not describe myself as a “born again”. I am not a Jew but I try to incorporate Jewish values and traditions into my beliefs as I believe Christianity has lost the value of these traditions. The closest description of myself would be a “non-Jewish Calvinist follower of Christ” but that title is still lacking.  And really not all that accurate, but hey, I’m trying.

I am not a Catholic.

I usually laugh at a lot of things that escape the Catholicism Wow Camp. For instance, birth control. While I respect the ideal that couples only have sex to procreate, I believe the Catholic Church is missing a huge learning opportunity for its members. Teach them about safe sex, teach them chastity as a spiritual discipline to build a stronger relationship with Christ. Teenage boys and girls are not going to keep it in their pants. They don’t understand why they need to keep it in their pants. Give them the tools so that they can learn.

I’m also confused on the whole only baptised babies get to go to Heaven concept. I can commit a mass genocide but as long as I repent and confess to a priest, I can still go to heaven. That little baby that didn’t have holy water sprinkled on its forehead though is shit out of luck.

But I try to ignore that. We are all fallen and broken and therefore the institutions we establish on this Earth are also fallen and broken. We are not perfect, that is why we go to church. Periodically though, the Pope issues something that really makes my blood boil.

He says my church does not have the means for salvation.

And perhaps he is right. My church does not have the means for salvation. But Christ has those means. And I believe that Christ is beside us as we worship in the Little Warehouse Church That Could. If our God is a loving god, why would he turn his backs on his followers who worship differently? Do we turn our salvation down by not having a first holy communion, baptism or confession? Does Jesus love us less because a woman led our worship? Is God pissed off because we used a condom with our spouse because we did not have the means to properly care and protect for a child on loan to us from Him?

What did the Pope hope to accomplish in this document? What did the Pope think he was going to accomplish? And more importantly, what did the Pope actually accomplish? Did he desire to alienate other Christians? Did he desire to show the outside world how broken, divided and un-Christ-like the Christian people are?

Was the Pope attempting to point towards Christ in the issuing of this document?

And I’m not presenting that in a “I moonlight as bridezilla causing terror in the hearts of bridesmaids everywhere” sort of way.

I’m that bride that cares tremendously about the way this day looks and at the same time, I don’t give a rat’s ass.

I am a crappy bride.

When Brian and I first started to plan our wedding, I really tried, with all of my heart, to engage in a less is more strategy. A wedding is only one day. It does not make a marriage. A marriage will not be better or worse based on the number of guests who attend, how plentiful the flowers were, or whether or not the bridesmaids are perfectly matched. None of those things reflect a level of committment to making a marriage work. They instead reflect a committment to material things.

From the beginning, I wanted this to be simple. I did not have much of a desire for flowers. I wanted this to be a “clean line” wedding. I wanted classic and timeless and less fuss. I wanted more people and minimal fluff. I wanted great pictures of the people I love, not great pictures of flowers and reception sites.

Our wedding is going to take place in our little warehouse church called The Well. (Check out our website at www.thewellpa.com) It is fitting there. Brian and I met because of The Well. It is a place where we belong and where we are supported.

But then…

There is the nightmare that is the reception.

My mother has decided that the reception shall take place at the Middletown Country Club, where she and my father had their reception sixteen years ago. Very over the top, a lavish display of money, and nothing that resembles the clean, classic wedding that Brian and I desire.

I know I should be happy that my parents want to provide this wedding for me, but at the same time, it is not the wedding I want. It is not the wedding that Brian wants. It is the wedding that my mother wishes she had years ago. I feel so ungrateful for all of it.

And I don’t want to feel that way.

I know it will be an enjoyable day for our guests. I know everyone will have a good time and I will have a good time. I know I will be amazed when I see Brian’s face waiting for me. I know I’ll probably cry like a baby at some point.

I’m still kinda sad that it won’t be the wedding that I want.

And I worry that someday I’ll plan the wedding that I dreamed of for my children instead of the wedding that they want.

I have this idea in my head that I should be happy as a bride, but instead, I feel like I just need to survive my wedding.