Walking Backwards

Walking Backwards….

(Went to a friend/mentor/neighbor’s memorial service last weekend.  Saw people we hadn’t seen for maybe thirty years or more, among many others.  So many conversations to have and not nearly enough time…)

The voices had so much to say

Of days gone by…of prayers prayed.

One friend who had learned 

She would never be alone-

God’s spirit was real – her heart had found home..

Another spoke of songs we had written

(Which I had forgotten)….

I’d known her since she was a child.

(We shared parts of a dark history)…

Another remembered with gratitude

songs I had written that our church had sung.

So many different stages of life and faith

Different places lived, different paths followed…

Strange to go back

Delightful to see old friends,

To see kids I’d’ known and loved,

See their kids all grown…

Memory lane is real.

Don’t quite know what to feel.

Grateful for my friend and her amazing, large, faith-filled life.

My life is small, but evidently, from what I hear

From these old  friends, listening

And doing small things with kindness matters

We are all loved.

May 4, 2024

Thoughts on seeing God…

I love listening to the stories of some of the wonderful people who have been here in this church and community for 50+ years. What a wealth of memory and relationship! So many stories of God’s faithfulness in all kinds of situations…some of you have been blessed with this amazing continuity of God’s grace….I am grateful for you.

My dad had that – his dad helped build the church he grew up and went to for 75 years before it closed. I have bounced around a bit and we have had the immense privilege of being parts of several different churches and communities – from house churches to a 1300+ member megachurch.

We got an old record digitized recently that a friend had taken my dad’s dad to make. Hearing the grandpa I never met singing “the love of God’ in his heavily accented German voice made me cry – that is what was important to this immigrant farmer who came to America hoping for a better life. The God who made oceans and mountains and skies and seas and rocks and trees and weeds …. Creator God made humans and loved them. It reminded me of our friend Bob Wieneke, who also loved the old hymns.

A friend who taught at SPU asked me to come and speak to a small group of his students (very surprising) about missional theology. I’m still not sure what that is, but I went and told stories about the people we had met working with refugees as they were resettled here in the Seattle area, helping to process payments that supported relief teams that helped provide for the needs of the internally displaced in Burma. A mother who said she was so proud of her oldest daughter who had always remembered to take her blanket with her when they had to hide from the bombs…a friend who started a church in her living room…. In the end, David expressed it for me – “your theology is defined by the people you have known following Jesus in all kinds of circumstances”. Yep! That’s it. I’m a boring person with some really interesting friends.

My girls, when they were little, asked me “how do you see God?” And the answer I was given for them was “you see God in His people, that’s where He’s found.”

Lord, you know there’s times I’ve tried to run but now I come
To give you thanks for all you’ve done
I don’t know. How it is I couldn’t see before
That the hands that were reaching out to me were yours.
I guess that sometimes pride gets in the way-
We turn aside to try to hide the pain.
So much is lost I know you gave your life to gain –
So I come to give thanks in your name…..

When my little girls ask how to see you –
How can they really know that you’re around
You’ve given me an answer I can share with them –
They can see you in your people – that’s where you’re found!

Thank you Lord for all you’ve done
You gave me friends that helped me live again
There kindness and there mercy were like water to the thirsty
I’ve seen you in my friends and I thank you Lord.

(The song was was written 40 years ago, but the thoughts about my current church and community are fresh).

Broken Ways

Creator God, Giver of life
You see how we struggle-
Create hardship and strife,
We lash out in our anger
Breaking hearts as we go
Feeling wise when we’re foolish
Thinking You don’t see or know…

Our broken ways separate us,
Draw walls around our hearts
We think we’ve reached the ending
When You long to give a new start
Forgive us, God, we need You-
(We are not so wise at all!)

We think we have the answers
But on our faces we fall
Help us learn to listen to you!
Let Your Spirit speak words on the wind
Let the seeds of truth be planted
Make our hearts good ground again.

You’ve pulled the weeds so lovingly
(Although there still was pain)
As we clung to the things that hurt us
And refused to let you in
Help those whose pain is hidden
In the darkness of their fears
Give them hope that You are listening
When they’re alone and think no one hears.

Come, Great Holy Spirit, breathe life
Into these bones that feel broken and dried
Bring order, redemption, salvation
To this barren place within us –
Oh God, be glorified.

6/19/2023

Dear Southern Baptist Leadership…

It is with almost unspeakable grief that I read the report of how you, like SO many other church leaders, have covered up the abuse of women and children and made excuses for the abusers.

The destructive power of intimidating those who try to tell of what happened to them and how their lives are impacted appears to be beyond your comprehension.

Let me try to help you out on this…

Years ago, I wrote a collection of poems sharing what child abuse looks like from the child’s perspective. While the circumstances/details of each person’s abuse are different, these glimpses into abuse through a child’s eyes have helped some people see a little bit more. The view gets SO clouded and SO dark when it is clergy who abused you. I know, because the youth group leader in my church was a serial molester. He started with his owns sisters as a young man and graduated to the “sheep” he was supposed to “shepherd.” Here is a sample of the poems:

Child of Mind

Look, you child rapist, what did you mean
When you made that saintly sick little scene?

In your nice blue suit, oh SO “righteously”
You sang in “tribute” of your mom’s memory.

The church was full of people you knew,
But oh, you fraud! if they only knew you!!

Instead of your smiling religious face
They’d watch you roast and twist In Hot disgrace.

Perhaps your victims would cut off your….
And nail them up to a handy wall….

We’d get revenge for what you’ve done
In the “name of God” – (May His Kingdom come!).

We’d shout your secrets nice and loud –
Tell what you did and broadcast how
In the name of “love” and a “Shepherd’s concern”
You screwed your sheep, each one by turn.

And those who needed God’s love could find
A pastoral pervert to mess up their minds.

You hypocrite!! I wish you knew
Just what it was you put us through!

We paid a price for believing your lies.
Most of us still live and hope you die
Slowly!

************************************************************

For more poems “From the Child”. please see fromthechild.wordpress.com

Stay With the Story (Poem)

Too easy to leave the scene on Good Friday
Convinced Hope has died and the story is over …
Even the disciples,
These ones who were chosen
Who had seen water turned to wine,
Loaves and fishes multiplied
Dead people raised
Blind people seeing and lepers cleansed
Still left confused and afraid…thinking they were abandoned.

I am so like them….
When dreams die or hope is buried
When I am dead
In my woundedness
Or pride
Or failures
Or unforgiveness
I so easily lose my way-sink back to the pit I came from…

But the finder of lost sheep (and lost disciples)
Does not abandon us on the shores of our desolation
Because He knows our hearts better than we ever will
He will meet us on the shore with fresh fish on the fire
To feed our hungry souls. He knows we are human.

Hope will rise again.

Teresa Norman April 2020

Legacy (Poem)

Legacy

There’s a little girl in a country church watching Daddy today
Wondering why he lifts his hands and tears fall as he prays.
She’s still too young to understand why Daddy’s heart does break
As he’s praying for the wisdom he knows raising her will take…

“Father God, I’m asking you for wisdom from above
To write a living legacy in the heart of these ones I love.
Please use my life, my words, my prayers
To show them how much their Savior cares…
Let them know they are precious in your sight.
And that trusting you can bring them through the night.”

The little girl is a woman now with children of her own
Life hasn’t always been easy but there’s something she’s always known:
She knows there’s a God in heaven who watches her each day
And that He sees her tears fall when she prays…

“Father God, she’s asking you for wisdom from above
To write a living legacy in the heart of these ones she loves.
Use her life, her words her prayers
To show them how much their Savior cares.
And let them know they are precious in your sight,
That trusting you can bring them through each night.”

When we stand before you on that great and final day
And look upon your splendor, all tears will be wiped away,
The heartaches will be over, the loneliness be gone
As together with the angels, we worship at your throne…

Father God we’re asking you for wisdom from above
To write a living legacy in the hearts of those you love
Use our lives, our words, our prayers
To show this world how much you care…
To let them know they are precious in your sight
And that trusting you can bring them through the night.

Teresa Norman May 1999

Kaleidoscope (Poem)

Broken pieces gathered together
Reflecting the love of the Father of Light
Each carries a portion
Of the grace that sustains us-
Brings beauty from ashes,
And songs of deliverance
In the darkest of nights.

We have been rescued
From the things that have shattered
The lives that we thought we had planned.
Brought back from destruction
Redeemed and forgiven
Made vessels of honor
To be held in His hands.

Light of the spirit
Shine in our darkness
Bring forth Your beauty and light
May these broken pieces
Empowered by your mercy
Serve with rejoicing
Listen with humility
Walk in love out into the night

Teresa Norman  June 2017

Staying with the Story (Poem)

Too easy to leave the scene on Good Friday
Convinced Hope has died and the story is over …
Even the disciples,
These ones who were chosen
Who had seen water turned to wine,
Loaves and fishes multiplied
Dead people raised
Blind people seeing and lepers cleansed
Even they still left confused and afraid…
Thinking they were abandoned.

I am so like them….
When dreams die or hope is buried
When I am dead
In my woundedness
Or pride
Or failures
Or unforgiveness
I so easily lose my way-sink back to the pit I came from…

But the finder of lost sheep (and lost disciples)
Does not abandon us on the shores of our desolation
Because He knows our hearts better than we ever will
He will meet us on the shore with fresh fish on the fire
To feed our hungry souls. He knows we are human.

Hope rose again.

Teresa Norman 2020

A Practical Savior (poem)

A Practical Savior
As Jesus hung on the cross
Son of God and son of a woman
Bearing the weight of our sins
He looked at his mom. He saw her.
She, who knew before anyone
That he was not an ordinary child;
Knew he would not be an ordinary man.
She who nurtured him, taught him,
Sang over him, prayed for him
And followed him, could not be left alone.
He told her John would be a son to her
He told John she would be a mother to him…
John took her into his home.
It mattered enough that even as He died for the world,
He took care of the practical needs of a Jewish mamma
Not to be left alone.

Teresa Norman 2020
(thoughts on John 19:25-27 from The Passion Translation)

The Crystal Vase

Like a crystal vase smashed against the cement wall
The little girl was fractured by life’s blows.
Now hidden deep inside lie the pieces she can’t find-
The broken parts no one but Jesus knows….

Like catacombs in ancient Rome there are tunnels here…
She’s been lost in them and hiding out for years.
But she’s tired of trying to run 
She knows a change has got to come.
Believing He has seen it all and loves her still
And the emptiness is one that He can fill.

She was blinded by her tears,
Held captive to her fears,
Not sure if she should let His light shine in...
But when His love breaks through
Mended broken things become new
Reflecting once again His marvelous light….

'Cause He’s picking up the pieces of her shattered life
Cradling them gently in His nail scarred hands.
With tender love He comes to heal
Wounds she tries hard not to feel
And let her know she’s still precious in His sight –
That she will be alright.

(Written for a friend December 19, 1991. But like so many of my poems, still being worked out in my own life.  Grateful for a church community where broken people are welcome and redemption, grace, compassion, and humilty are seen as essential parts of faith…..)

Yo, what’s up? (ramblings)

Not always an easy question to answer, even when it comes from a very respected, caring friend…sometimes it’s complicated. While I’ve kind of expected the question, I still don’t have an answer I’m satisfied with.

When we first moved to Seattle six years ago, I was surprised how homeless I felt until we found a church. For all of my life, a lot of my relationships and the roadmap for my life had been calibrated in relationship to whatever church community I was connected with. In the case of a small town, the dividing lines between church and community are a little blurrier than they seem to be in the city. You would see people from the church in your community all the time (they didn’t come from a 75 mile radius from a variety of different cities to get there and then disappear for the rest of the week).

I love my church. Not ’cause it’s cool, or popular or emergent or politically correct/incorrect or newsworthy or whatever. I love it ’cause I have found people there who welcomed an outsider, dreamed with me and taught me to dream bigger and walked through the past six years of trying to figure out what it means to serve God in practical ways. They didn’t ask WHY I thought doing practical things to help people in need was important-they asked how they could help! I love it because there are people there who also dream bigger dreams of what it means to live out their faith, sometimes crazy dreams and then some of them don’t just dream dreams, they actually do them! Magnificent!

But, things change. I am no longer dreaming big dreams or any other dreams. It feels really strange to not be DOING anything except working, loving the people in my life, and trying to walk with God in integrity through the encounters my very well-peopled job provides. Now I get to try to figure out how that fits with the bigger picture, and how a small person fits into a big church. I am not a big church kind of person. I have nothing to contribute in this context. I suck at small talk.

Sunday morning church (important for preaching, teaching, worshipping together, having communion, meeting people, welcoming strangers and sharing information) is only part of being the church. There is this whole other life of community that goes on in small groups, Global Presence meetings, men’s and women’s meetings, intergenerational potlucks, kids ministry…..all the things that break a big church down into more bite size pieces so you can actually get to know some people and develop relationships. If I am not going to participate in any of the other things that go on is it really viable/faithful/spiritual to just “go to church” there on Sundays? Is that enough for them or for me?

Last Sunday, I indulged my craving for encountering God in the midst of His people by going to church at a friend’s house and meeting the small community she is shepherding. It was wonderful because it was interactive, non-overwhelming and personal. I learned from the discussion of Luke as I listened to what each person brought and drew out of their own life of walking with God. It reminded me of a line from a worship song that was popular a few years ago: “Come, just as you are…hear the Spirit call. Come and see….” I left revived, grateful that the presence of God is not confined to buildings, but that He shows up wherever He’s invited. I love my church, but I need to find room in my life to be part of a community of believers at this stage of my “work in process” kind of life. Not sure how the pieces fit right now.

So, yo, not really sure what’s up, but prayerfully trying to figure it out:)

“Because you’re always right….the world will know”

Nope, that’s not what Jesus said.  In John 13:34-35 it says … “I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples” …. I just got done watching the news and reading some of the posts about immigrants, lesbians, democrats, communists,muslims, republicans, poor people, rich people etc.  The one thing that stands out in what I was seeing, hearing and reading is that too many of us seem to forget what Jesus said was basic-we are called to commanded to love.  Wouldn’t trying to practice love  make most of the inflamatory,  hurtful, hateful dialogue being self-righteously barfed out on each other be radically altered?  Yuck! 

Today’s goal: treating everyone with love, respect and dignity, regardless of ANYTHING else!

I SO agree with Mark Twain when he said, “It ain’t those parts of the Bible that I can’t understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand. ” 

Galatians 5:22 “The Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  There is no law against these things!”

God, please help us judge ourselves by the right standards!  Teach us to love as you love!

Good Life in the Midst of Bad Circumstances

At first glance it might seem a little incongruous to have a “Good Life Club” in the middle of a war zone, but the name comes from John 10:10 where Jesus promises abundant life. This project, started by our friend, Karen, gives those of us living in safety and prosperity something practical we can do to contribute to the lives of internally displaced mothers and children on the run from the Burma Army. For details of how you can help, click here

For more pictures of the Good Life Club in action….click here.  (This is  a project of Partners Relief & Development and their friends at Free Burma Rangers).  The Good Life Club packs are carried in by the relief teams going into Burma and delivered to the moms and kids who need them.

Betrayal and Job’s Friends (poem)

One of my favorite relatives sent me a message last night that it was her cousin whose ex-husband  killed her at a church in Federal Way this week.  A mom with three little kids….a big loving extended family in SO much pain….what can you say?

If one of the lessons in the Book of Job means anything, it might best to not say too much.  Not think there is an answer to why, or what it means, or how this could happen.   Job’s friends came to “comfort” him and ended up making him feel worse.  They talked too much.  Said things they had no right to say.  In the end of the story, God toasted them for misrepresenting His heart.  The only time they really did Job any good was when they sat in the ashes with him as he grieved.  There is a lesson there about presumption and talking way too much….there is a time to talk and a time to listen.

Years ago, I was present at court while a young friend told of her step-dad’s crimes against her humanity. Going home from that experience, I was struck silent by the depth of his betrayal of her and of her mother.  As a person of faith, I wanted to encourage, but words seemed so USELESS!  This poem was the result…..

The Betrayal

The night is dark and stormy
There’s a cold wind in my soul
Seems like I’ve been torn apart
And never will be whole.

The suffocating weight that rests
Upon my broken heart
Holds me in my silence–
Lord, when will the healing start?

I cast about in frantic hope
That there might somehow be
Someone who can reach out
To break these chains and set me free.

But who can know the torment?
Who can really comprehend
Unless they too have been betrayed
By lover or by friend?

As I cower in desperation
And in fear of what shall be,
A picture comes to mind
I know that You have given me…

I see you hanging on a cross
In agony betrayed,
Naked, torn and bleeding
So from sin we can be saved.

The one who lived and walked with You,
With whom You shared Your soul
Was the person who betrayed You—
All my agony You know!

©Teresa Norman 1988

Daffodils and Uncle David

Easter always reminds me of daffodils.  Daffodils always remind me of Uncle David. When I was about 4 or 5, Uncle David gave me a beautiful book of poetry (it had daffodils on the front and lots of pictures of beautiful flowers).  I was trying to learn to read at that point, sitting on the couch, when I asked my Mom, “What is d-o-g spelled backwards?”  She told me that was God.  I knew this was significant.

It’s even more significant that Uncle David is thus directly tied in my little kid brain to finding out about God.  Uncle David was not on everyone’s A list.  He was, in the terms of the day, “slow” or “different” (not dumb, just not quite functioning at the mental complexity his particular decade and community preferred.  He had gotten in some pretty awful spots when someone misunderstood his assessment of different situations (think “padded room”).  Uncle David spent a good part of his later life shuttled off to a halfway house on Capital Hill in Seattle.  Some of the relatives breathed a sigh of relief, and except for coming to the island to pick blackberries and thimbleberries and huckleberries once a year so I could make him a pie, we didn’t see much of him for quite a while.

Uncle David died quietly at home.  A funeral was planned for our little community, with some folks figuring immediate family would be the only ones who showed up.  Boy, were we surprised!  From David’s delightfully diverse community, carloads of people came to our small town and filled the funeral home.  After the formal part of the service was over, someone from the back spoke up and said, “We would like to say something…..”  The minister let her come to the microphone.  One by one, a parade of people came forward to speak about how David’s simple ability to love and encourage those around him, to do practical things, to serve, to help in any way he could had blessed their lives over and over again.  We sat their dumbfounded, humbled and incredibly grateful for the profound lesson unfolding in front of us. God, in typical fashion, chose the humble of the world to teach us that his ways aren’t our ways.  That we had missed the point entirely by talking more than we listened.  That there had been much to learn from a humble man with no guile who sought to love his community.  I am grateful each Easter, especially, as I think of the lessons Uncle David gave me on living in the grace of God.