Wherein I do not save (or doom) the world, so we’re good, right?

darkseidI have been blogging in WordPress for years, and I just now noticed the Omega symbol in the visual editor (Ω). Turns out it’s the icon for the symbols menu, not a button that will summon Darkseid. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved. It’s probably just as well, since I’m the last person you’d want making humanity’s last stand against an evil galactic overlord.

dance-offI’d probably challenge him to a dance-off just to confuse him. It would be extra confusing since Darkseid is DC and Guardians of the Galaxy is Marvel, so he’d never see it coming. But then he’d probably just lose patience after ten seconds and obliterate me with his omega rays.

These are the weird things I think about, when I have a minute to think. So it’s probably good I rarely have a minute to think. 

I’m sitting at Hob Knobb (or possibly “Hob Knob” now, because the second “b” appears to have fallen off the sign). They often play contemporary Christian music, which I often find calming. Although it does sort of remind me how terrible I was at being an evangelical, back when I was sort-of trying.

Ten or fifteen years ago, I was in a weird place in my faith. We were members of a typical rural Midwestern, non-denominational Christian church. I didn’t fit in, but I tried. At first, I sang “special music” and served in the drama ministry. Which turned out to be not a good way to fit in, so eventually I stopped and served in the Toddler’s room. Which is about as far from a good fit for my personality and gifts as you could possibly get.

Maybe it was just me, but I felt like the other women were always expecting me to repent – or at least visibly lament – having a job outside the home. I liked my work and didn’t feel particularly ashamed of helping provide for my family. I also didn’t feel especially motivated to have more kids after the ratio of adults-to-children reached equilibrium, or to homeschool when we had a perfectly good public school nearby, or to wear denim jumpers, or sell outrageously overpriced wooden baskets, or to go on pilgrimages to the Creation Museum.

Yes. That is a building made to look like a picnic basket. I seriously can't even.
Yes. That is a building made to look like a picnic basket. I seriously can’t even.

Not that there’s anything wrong with those things (except the baskets; they’re terrible) – if you delight in these things, or they feel like necessary steps in your walk, that’s awesome. They just didn’t really speak to me. My faith felt pretty complete without them.

Anyway, it slowly dawned on me that trying (and largely failing) to fit in with that particular local church culture wasn’t helping me develop a stronger relationship with Jesus. Unless you counted all the practice I got holding my tongue.

(Which is definitely something I haven’t practiced much since…soooo, maybe?)

I don’t spend much time thinking about that period in my life (because see above: I have no time to think, basically). I worry more than I should, but I don’t worry much about my faith not being strong enough to catch me if hard circumstances shove me off a cliff. Been there, done that. My faith has remained tensile and strong, mainly because it’s been tested.

My two best friends are LGBT, and yet I am happily planted in a local church where the official stance is those identities are intrinsically wrong. It takes a lot of love to stand in that space. To love everybody where they are, instead of demanding they convert the operating system of their whole lives, because half the people you love are PCs and half are Macs, and it’s hard for you to be the buggy Chromebook stuck in the middle.

But I do love all of them, and my job is not fixing people, which is a very good thing because I don’t think I could fix a toaster, much less a person.

rube_napkinMost of the time, I am too busy to do basic maintenance on my own self. Most of the time, my head is full: of complex Rube Goldberg diagrams for marketing campaigns, or entire fictional worlds and the life stories of fictional characters, or the Endless Mystery of What We Should Have for Dinner Tonight.

Which is for the best. I’d just cause trouble if I did have time to think about anything else. I’d probably find (and press) a button on my blog that summons Darkseid, and instead of ideological differences we’d all have to deal with an evil galactic overlord.

Leave a Reply