All things aside - No. 1

Random thoughts on loneliness, an article about Elizabeth Elliot, a divine ambush on Ash Wednesday, taking a bite out of my personality, and readings from Thomas Merton

Hello, friends. If you have been following my substack for a while now, you’d know I usually publish single essays to encourage evolving-faith Christians to engage their faith with curiosity, courage, and honesty. But to write those, I set much aside to focus on a single idea and I often don’t return to examine the discard pile. This new monthly rhythm All things aside will challenge me to pull from the “step & toss” rubble of my mental closet and take a second look. This format will be longer but since it’s a compilation of shorter essays, you can read it in short spurts. Perhaps one or more of these essays may offer encouragement as you sort through the rubble of your life.

Peace and every good,

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Is the company of strangers better than sitting alone at home?

This past month, I found myself abundantly alone. My husband's work had him traveling 12 out of the 29 days of this month. **Also, happy birthday to anyone with a leap-year birthday!** At first, I was good at reaching out and making plans to spend time with friends but as time stretched on, loneliness became as glued to me as my days old, unwashed sweatpants. It became increasingly harder to reach out and only in times of desperation I would send a casual text (so as not to seem too desperate). I considered going to a coffee shop to work thinking the company of strangers would be better than an empty house but loneliness has a way of cementing us in place. The sheer effort it would take to put on real pants, pack my bag, drive, park, order coffee, and risk having to listen to loud, obnoxious music while trying to work made my spot on the couch that much more alluring. So I chose to stay home even despite my ache for companionship.

Why is it so hard to admit we are lonely? Loneliness is a sneaky kind of shame that wants us to believe we are lonely by fault of our own (like we didn’t make the right life choices or we are a burden to others) and by admitting our loneliness, we are admitting to that fault. It’s total bullshit and yet it’s convincing enough to keep us from picking up the damn phone when picking up the phone is what is most needed. It’s like the sickness and the cure is the same thing, and as long as we see them as different, we’ll end up taking aspirin for a stomach ache and wondering what’s wrong with us when the ache doesn’t subside. But we just need connection, plain and simple. Yet asking for connection doesn’t feel simple because it makes us vulnerable, and vulnerability is anything but simple, it is, however, necessary. In my struggle with loneliness this month, I told a friend over coffee about how I was feeling and was surprised by her own confession of loneliness. The words “I’m lonely too” followed by an intention to spend more time together was a balm for my soul.

So if you’re feeling lonely, here’s your sign to stop dragging your feet, pick up the damn phone, and grab coffee with someone. Okay?

Elizabeth Elliot may be the reason many of us need therapy

I own a signed copy of Passion and Purity by Elizabeth Elliot. The pages are well-worn from years of reading and referencing. I once gave it to a man I thought I’d marry (thank God I didn’t) and eventually asked for it back - then went straight to therapy. Recently, I stumbled upon an article by

Liz Charlotte Grant

about Elizabeth Elliot’s life story specifically referencing her third marriage (she was widowed twice). As I read through the article, I began to realize (maybe for the first time) how much her theology and understanding of gender roles may have contributed to the toxic Christian relationship I found myself stuck in at 23. Now at 43, happily married for 15 years to a man who holds just as strong egalitarian views as I do, I find myself heartbroken over Elizabeth’s life. She was ultimately a victim of her own theological worldview and ended up leaving a legacy of victims behind her.

Read Elisabeth Elliot, Flawed Queen of Purity Culture, and Her Disturbing Third Marriage by Liz Charlotte Grant

Ambushed on Ash Wednesday

With all the work trips my husband was taking this month, he ended up being gone for both Valentine’s Day and Wednesday which fell on the same day this year. We don’t make a fuss over V-day but Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of my favorite season in the church calendar. So I was elated when a good friend reached out to me to attend a noon mass together for Ash Wednesday. I was thankful she chose an Episcopal Church so we could take communion and we planned to meet for coffee beforehand. People! Real people! My lonely extroverted self jumped for joy at the opportunity. Trinity Episcopal Church was beautiful with its grand vaulted ceilings and bright red doors. I did not expect the choir to be like sitting at the gates of heaven but they had me in awe right away. As we began watching the procession into the sanctuary, I spotted another friend a few rows back and waved her over. More people! Yay! My loneliness was diminishing by the second. The three of us got cozy in the pew and watched the unfolding beauty of a liturgical service we knew very little about.

At first, I tried to enjoy the unfamiliarity of it all, pushing away any awkwardness by following the program intently and attempting to say the right things at the right time. When it was our time to receive the ashes, we were gently prompted to approach the kneeler. It was when my knees hit the padded cushion and my hands made their way into prayer, that the tears came. I couldn’t tell you why or what I was feeling at that moment, I simply gave in to the ambush of emotions. Later it reminded me of something I read by Richard Rohr.

I wonder if the only way that conversion, enlightenment, and transformation can happen is by a kind of divine ambush. It seems the ego has to be caught off guard to give up it’s constant surveillence. As long as you are fully in control, you are going to keep trying to steer the ship using your practiced reponses, so you need to do some new practices to rewire the old system.

-Excerpt from Just this

Lent is my rewiring. It is a tradition far from my familiar Baptist roots where comfort turned into cynicism. The awkwardness I feel not only in liturgical churches but also in the Wild Church I lead once a month are prime opportunities for God to catch me off guard. It seems our egos loathe the feeling of being out of place but it’s the perfect place to be to meet God on God’s terms and not on mine. Perhaps the key to spiritual enlightenment is to practice the awkward instead of striving for perfection.

Consuming personality

I have a pretty dominant personality. Put me in a room full of people and my voice will comfortably find a decimal range between a sportscaster and a fan in the audience. My personality also gets bored quickly, starting and stopping projects, books, and shows because they no longer hold my interest. One friend tells me I tend to “buzz” around the house like a box fly. With all that said, I do, however, consider myself a self-starter, disciplined enough to get shit done. But I’ve got a lazy, gluttonous streak that runs hot and deep and just wants to eat cake.

Over the past year, I have been reading mystics like St. Theresa of Avila, Meister Eckhart, and Thomas Merton. Though these mystical writers offer helpful language to describe contemplative practices, I find myself still searching for a more practical approach.

Jane Woods

, a writer and practitioner of George Gurdjieff’s The Fourth Way and The Work, has been a helpful resource for me as I navigate this new way of experiencing spiritual formation. I don’t even like the term spiritual formation, I think it falls short but it’s hard to describe what I attempting to do in practicing contemplative, non-dual thinking, and unitive prayer. In Jane Wood’s latest substack Behold, I learned a new concept that gave me handles for this type of practice.

Like what “It” doesn’t like.

The Work teaches that inner transformation is a process of growing our Essence (the seed of God we arrive on earth as) by way of consuming our Personality (the conditioned thoughts, feelings, and behaviors we learn after our arrival). The Personality is understood to be food for our Essence the same way an egg white is food for the yoke or the cotelydon is food for a seed embryo. “It” in this aphorism is our Personality, the collection of mechanical patterns. The idea is that every time we make a conscious effort to accept or surrender to something or someone we do not usually like, then Essence takes a sweet lil bite out of Personality and metabolizes it to grow.

Read more from her Substack here

I am not even going to try to describe George Gurdjieff’s The Fourth Way, just follow Jane but I can tell you why I am finding it helpful.

When my husband is out of town which was a lot this month, I get stuck with all the dog duties. From walks to playtime to meals, not to mention hunting for piles of brown treasure in the backyard. One of the essentials of owning a German Shepherd is to keep them on a schedule. So we’ve gotten into a rhythm where Josh plays disc golf with our pup, Ingrid for 10-20 minutes in the morning and late afternoon, right before mealtime. I am in charge of giving her a 30 to 40 minute walk each day. But when he’s gone, I end up throwing discs around the yard twice a day and hating it. After reading, Jane’s substack and her description of like what “it” doesn’t like, I had a practical approach to gaining access to a deeper way of being. So I put on my jacket, grabbed the discs, and tried to enjoy myself, and guess what? Nothing magical happened but I didn’t hate it. I felt a subtle shift in my spirit when my Essence took a big old bite of Personality and something new began to take root. So, thank you

Jane Woods

for sharing your wisdom with us!

A few favorite quotes from Thomas Merton

I have been slowly reading through Thoman Merton’s New Seeds of Contemplation. Here are a few of my favorite quotes so far:

Love comes out of God and gathers us to God in order to pour itself back into God through all of us and bring us all back to Him on the tide of His own infinite mercy.

So we all become doors and windows through which God shines back into His own house.

(Chapter, We are one man)

There is no true solitude except interior solitude. And interior solitude is not possible for anyone who does not accept his right place in relation to other men. There is no true peace possible for the man who still imagines that some accident of talen or grace or virtue segregates him from other men and places him above them. Solitude is not seperation.

God does not give graces or talents or virtues for ourselves alone. We are members one of another and everything that is given to one member is given for the whole body. I do not wash my feet to make them more beautiful than my face.

(Chapter, Solitude is not seperation)