My work in Haiti, led me to graduate school. I attended the University of Michigan's School of Information and studied how the internet and technology were impacting poverty. My goal was to figure out how to use technology to really make a difference in Haiti.
More doors opened for me. Michigan granted me money and helped me take a team of graduate students to Haiti to research this question.
I was able to take the money they granted me and raise an additional 50K more. I organized a big bus full of goods to go to Haiti. I recruited students to go and trained them on my work there.
Part of the training was to explain my relationship with the church and the role of the church in Haitian society. Students also came to a commissioning at St. Lukes who provided at least 5K in additional funding.
We arrived in Haiti. We moved into the church dorms. DISASTER. Students on the team were atheist and were angry that we were staying at the church. They insulted the church and got us kicked out. We moved into an expensive hotel for which I didn't have enough money to afford for the whole length of the trip. They accused me of taking public money for religious purposes and said that the church community was too closed minded. They didn't understand Haiti. They didn't understand me. They left and told everyone at the University that I was generally a bad person.
Alone in Haiti, cleaning up their mess. The church wouldn't speak to me. I felt abandoned by God. Why would he bring me this far to leave me? I screamed out loud. I was angry. With all that I had entrusted him. I had no back up plan.
I returned to Michigan to finish my degree. The year was quiet. I stayed to myself. I studied hard. I rarely spoke of Haiti. I had no idea what was next for me. My future, my career, my understanding of the world was shattered.
The more educated I became, the more I also began to doubt God. Creation didn't make sense. Faith became perhaps a psychological construct. I had questions. Church gave me nothing. Have faith.... But I knew all the "right" answers for church. But no one there wanted to think critically. My intellect was required to check out and somehow I was supposed to believe in the magic of it.
I was conflicted. On one hand. I had seen the supernatural. I had seen miracles that can't be explained. I had spoken in tongues. Seen visions. Had a call from God. On the other hand, my logical brain couldn't be honest with myself. I had seen the dark sides of the church and been the brunt end of religions criticisms. I had deep anxiety. I felt an unpenetrable seperation from God. I had never in my life felt absence of God's presence and hoped that he was just teaching me how athiests felt. I deeply hoped that.
I went on to move to Africa not knowing what else to do. I spent a miserable year there. More darkness. The mofia, child slaves, the machinery of development, the abuse and racism of our global society. I was sick, disgusted and tired. Where were you, God? Still, no sign of the light that had guided my childhood.
One morning, in Africa, I was invited to lead a theatre workshop in a private school. I played games with the kids. We used the theater games to open a discussion on race and class differences. I found one small sliver of light. I remembered my brothers in the Fools for Christ. I wanted church. I wanted a community. I needed to go home.
I prayed that God would lead me somewhere where I could heal. Somewhere where I could connect with a church and maybe lead youth ministry. I prayed that I could find a way out of this deep depression in my faith to a place of renewal and a sense of closeness with God.
God led me to Davis, California. It was not what I was expecting, but exactly what I needed. The first weekend in town, I walked over to the closest church to my house. It was a lutheran church. I had seen in the phone book that they had a joint youth program. Maybe something I could get involved with.
That first service I came to people were out on the lawn sitting in beautiful weather. There was a band playing the coolest music and ...It was a healing service. People were praying for healing. I got right up and prayed too. Within weeks I had joined the choir, helped lead confirmation, and joined the evening service band. I found myself intrigued. Most of the people that attended this church had PhDs. Most were scientists. Many evolutionary biologists.
How could people reconcile logical, scientific brains and still have a deep and active faith? I yearned for the answer to this question. Over time I became deeper and deeper engaged with the ministries of the church. I became the interim pastor for the college ministry and eventually the lay pastor for the evening service. I was in charge of giving sermons, picking music, prayers. I helped with baptisms, weddings and a funeral. I felt God again. Not only did I feel God again, but I felt called by God again.
My understanding of God deeper, richer, more vibrant. My faith stronger, though now, less innocent, more complex. I have more answers and fewer answers than I did before.
But at this point, I am certain that God is true to his promise to be close to us when we seek him. God reveals himself to us in the ways that we need. And there are so many expressions of the church -- Catholic, Baptist, Non-Denominational, Pentecostal, Quaker. All as different interpretations of that same story. As a means to draw us in and connect us to himself in a way that is deeply meaningful for each of us, exactly where we are in our walk.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
My faith walk - part 1 Childhood
Since both of you have shared your journeys to this point, maybe it would bring a little light to the conversation if you knew my faith story as well.
I have always been in love with God. I don't know if you know this, but my mom's pregnancy with me was an accident and her and my dad both prayed that God would claim me as his own. I think their prayer was more than listened to.
One of my very first memories in life was not being able to take communion. I was 3. I really wanted to. Really badly and couldn't understand why kids weren't allowed to have God too.
I was also raised Catholic for the fir 10 years of my life. My mom's parents are Catholic and my mom rebelled against the Catholic church during college for many of the same reasons that you did, Toni. As she was starting her family, she I think wanted some peace with her parents and brought me up in a Catholic church. It was a different kind of Catholic -- it was charasmatic. The priest drove a harley and we meet for service in gyms and auditoriums. There was lots of praising Jesus and lifting of hands. So, not typical Catholic. But I did go through Catechism, learn my hail mary's and attend my first confession before I had my first communion.
My parents joined St. Luke not long after that. It was Lutheran. Half-way between my mom's Catholic and my Dad's methodist backgrounds. It had praise music and dancing and about a million kids running around. It was a good fit for our family. I was a little irritated because Lutherans don't allow kids to take communion until age 12. So, again, I had to stop taking it.
My confirmation class at St. Lukes were the "really bad kids." Many got pregnant, dropped out of school, etc. Even in 6th grade, I had a sense of their irreverence for church and it hurt my feelings because it felt like a personal blow against my God. Who I had such a deep connection with.
My 8th grade year was confirmation. I was homeschooled that year because I had such a hard time socially. (I was that kid that everyone picked on. Absolutely pathetic). However, that year was a blessing. I was reading one morning in a magazine about kids going on mission trips. I was so excited about the idea. It was the combination of everything I loved. God, faraway places, natural beauty, helping people and making a difference. I could tell that my life should be dedicated to that.
I asked my mom if I could go. She said, "If God tells me you can go, you can go."
I remember thinking. No problem. I know God wants me to go. So that's easy.
I prayed every day in the shower ... for months. And one morning, while praying, I felt my heart burst. "Go read your bible" I had an urgency that if I didn't read a bible that instant God would strike me with lightning. It was a very old-testament feeling. Like Moses and the bush or Samuel or Jonah. God had something to tell me.
No one was home. I grabbed a towel and ran out of the bathroom looking for a bible. Of course, that morning, of the 8,000 bibles that are usually all over our house, I couldn't find a single one. I remembered my dad kept the a living translation under his bed.
I grabbed it. "Really God, the whole thing....its pretty big."
"JUST READ"
I opened to 2 Corithians 9
" I really don’t need to write to you about this ministry of giving for the believers .For I know how eager you are to help, and I have been boasting to ...were ready to send an offering a year ago. In fact, it was your enthusiasm that stirred up many of the Macedonian believers to begin giving. But I am sending these brothers to be sure you really are ready, as I have been telling them, and that your money is all collected. I don’t want to be wrong in my boasting about you. ... So I thought I should send these brothers ahead of me to make sure the gift you promised is ready. But I want it to be a willing gift, not one given grudgingly. Remember this—a farmer who plants only a few seeds will get a small crop. But the one who plants generously will get a generous crop. You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. “For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.” And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others
It was a letter to me, from God.
The year prior, I had gotten a lot of people to help a homeless ministry in Detroit because I was so excited. And I was certain that God was going to send someone to take me on another trip. I told my mom. Of course, she didnt believe me. I was 13. Not a week later did a woman from church come up to my mother and ask her if I could join her mission team to Ghana. She had dreamed of it and felt that God wanted me with her. My mom made lots of excuses. We couldn't afford it. I was too young. Her family would disapprove. God took each away. In a last ditch effort, she called my Catholic grandmother and asked her if I should join a lutheran mission team. My grandma said -- that's the Lord's work. (IMPOSSIBLE)
My teenage years and early 20s were filled with mission as my call. It was clear to me that God had given me this work. My faith was strong. My hands were ready and I followed my God anywhere he led me. Ghana, Mexico, Haiti. I saw miracles. I spoke in tongues. I had visions. I was in step with the spirit. But. Faith isn't so simple. For each of us, there are dark times too. My faith had maturing to do. I'll post a Part 2 to talk about the hard parts.
I have always been in love with God. I don't know if you know this, but my mom's pregnancy with me was an accident and her and my dad both prayed that God would claim me as his own. I think their prayer was more than listened to.
One of my very first memories in life was not being able to take communion. I was 3. I really wanted to. Really badly and couldn't understand why kids weren't allowed to have God too.
I was also raised Catholic for the fir 10 years of my life. My mom's parents are Catholic and my mom rebelled against the Catholic church during college for many of the same reasons that you did, Toni. As she was starting her family, she I think wanted some peace with her parents and brought me up in a Catholic church. It was a different kind of Catholic -- it was charasmatic. The priest drove a harley and we meet for service in gyms and auditoriums. There was lots of praising Jesus and lifting of hands. So, not typical Catholic. But I did go through Catechism, learn my hail mary's and attend my first confession before I had my first communion.
My parents joined St. Luke not long after that. It was Lutheran. Half-way between my mom's Catholic and my Dad's methodist backgrounds. It had praise music and dancing and about a million kids running around. It was a good fit for our family. I was a little irritated because Lutherans don't allow kids to take communion until age 12. So, again, I had to stop taking it.
My confirmation class at St. Lukes were the "really bad kids." Many got pregnant, dropped out of school, etc. Even in 6th grade, I had a sense of their irreverence for church and it hurt my feelings because it felt like a personal blow against my God. Who I had such a deep connection with.
My 8th grade year was confirmation. I was homeschooled that year because I had such a hard time socially. (I was that kid that everyone picked on. Absolutely pathetic). However, that year was a blessing. I was reading one morning in a magazine about kids going on mission trips. I was so excited about the idea. It was the combination of everything I loved. God, faraway places, natural beauty, helping people and making a difference. I could tell that my life should be dedicated to that.
I asked my mom if I could go. She said, "If God tells me you can go, you can go."
I remember thinking. No problem. I know God wants me to go. So that's easy.
I prayed every day in the shower ... for months. And one morning, while praying, I felt my heart burst. "Go read your bible" I had an urgency that if I didn't read a bible that instant God would strike me with lightning. It was a very old-testament feeling. Like Moses and the bush or Samuel or Jonah. God had something to tell me.
No one was home. I grabbed a towel and ran out of the bathroom looking for a bible. Of course, that morning, of the 8,000 bibles that are usually all over our house, I couldn't find a single one. I remembered my dad kept the a living translation under his bed.
I grabbed it. "Really God, the whole thing....its pretty big."
"JUST READ"
I opened to 2 Corithians 9
" I really don’t need to write to you about this ministry of giving for the believers .For I know how eager you are to help, and I have been boasting to ...were ready to send an offering a year ago. In fact, it was your enthusiasm that stirred up many of the Macedonian believers to begin giving. But I am sending these brothers to be sure you really are ready, as I have been telling them, and that your money is all collected. I don’t want to be wrong in my boasting about you. ... So I thought I should send these brothers ahead of me to make sure the gift you promised is ready. But I want it to be a willing gift, not one given grudgingly. Remember this—a farmer who plants only a few seeds will get a small crop. But the one who plants generously will get a generous crop. You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. “For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.” And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others
It was a letter to me, from God.
The year prior, I had gotten a lot of people to help a homeless ministry in Detroit because I was so excited. And I was certain that God was going to send someone to take me on another trip. I told my mom. Of course, she didnt believe me. I was 13. Not a week later did a woman from church come up to my mother and ask her if I could join her mission team to Ghana. She had dreamed of it and felt that God wanted me with her. My mom made lots of excuses. We couldn't afford it. I was too young. Her family would disapprove. God took each away. In a last ditch effort, she called my Catholic grandmother and asked her if I should join a lutheran mission team. My grandma said -- that's the Lord's work. (IMPOSSIBLE)
My teenage years and early 20s were filled with mission as my call. It was clear to me that God had given me this work. My faith was strong. My hands were ready and I followed my God anywhere he led me. Ghana, Mexico, Haiti. I saw miracles. I spoke in tongues. I had visions. I was in step with the spirit. But. Faith isn't so simple. For each of us, there are dark times too. My faith had maturing to do. I'll post a Part 2 to talk about the hard parts.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
a little on my religious background
I am 100% Polish. My parents were both raised in a hardcore Polish Catholic family. My mom even went to a Catholic School taught by nuns, where they attended mass everyday, until 9th grade. So there was no question that my parents were to raise me Catholic! We have always attended St. Mary's Catholic Church in Chelsea, which is very Catholic and only sings from our hymn books that are placed in each pew. I was Baptisted as an infant, attended Sunday School, Cadacisim school everyday Tuesday during the school year, received my first communion in 2nd grade (which also required us to be able to re-sight "The Lord's Prayer" or the "Our Father" and the "Apostle's Creed," "Hail Mary" and "Glory Be the Father" before we were worthy of having the body of Christ), attended a weekly youth group in high school, received confirmation, and was a leader at vacation bible school. We always said Grace before meals. We practiced Lent as Catholics: no meat on Fridays. And that was the way it was, no questions asked.
Well, at least that is how it was until I got a little older and started asking questions, when I was about 14 or 15. The Catholic Church is very hypocritical. Everything was as is with no questions asked, or really allowed to ask. Questions made people feel uncomfortable, which made me feel uncomfortable. The bible is taken VERY literal, which is some cases I find interesting. Sunday School and Cadacism seemed to be also brainwashing. It got to the point were I questioned my faith and started to go down the road as a non-believer. When I was 13, I was forced to go to Church every Sunday, or else I was grounded (and I parents went to the 8am mass, which was TERRIBLE for a teenager!) When I turned 16 I was allowed to go to the 10am mass. At this point in my life my brother Ronnie was living with us, and she made me and Samantha go together. It was soooo forced that we naturally rebelled. Our way of proving that we went to church was to bring a copy of the Church's newsletter home with us. So, we went (for a few seconds), I would pull in, Samantha would run in and get a newsletter, run back to the car and we would go to breakfast to waste an hours time before we could go home.
The week before I went to college, my parents had a very unfortunate event: the roof of their furniture store blew off in a storm. The insurance company refused to pay, claiming that it was water damage. My parents, in turn, sued them for the $1.8 million to get their business back up and running. In the mean time, court costs for 3yrs were wearing them down, they had to find other means of income and we almost lost our home that was up for foreclosure. Also, at the same time, while my parents were trying to sell what furniture they could save, out of a tent in the parking lot, my brother Ronnie developed a terrible Heroine addiction and lived in a vehicle in the parking lot in Ypsi. He also owed someone 12 grand, and arranged for them to come pick up 12 grand of furniture in the middle of the night to pay for his drug habit. During this period of time I continued to question my faith. There are so many things that do not make sense. Yet there are so many things, science based, that have no explanation. And so many things that are so perfect, that are miracles. I thought about all of these things, and thought that there must be a being greater than us! BUT... then, that's when I cursed GOD, I was sooo mad! If there was a God, how could he let all of these terrible things happen to my family.
While at college I only attended church 1 time in East Lansing. I had a few deep conversations with my friend Claire (who was raised in a religious Methodist family) about our beliefs, but that was it. At this point, until I met Jay, I only attended church on Christmas, Ash Wednesday, Easter and Mother's Day. My parents has also started to question God. They started attended a bible study, that was hosted at a neighbors home, who were Free Methodists. I attended a few times with my Mom when I was in town. My parents started to realize how dry our church had been, and started attending church regularly with the neighbors. This opened me up for other things. Until then, you were Catholic and that was that. Now, having my mom tell me that it didn't matter to what faith I belonged, as long as I believed in God it was OK with her. This was revealing!
When Jay and I started dating, I straight up told him that I didn't believed in God the way he does, and that I have struggled with my faith for a while. He did not like that and explained how important those things were to him. I told him that I would work hard on strengthening my faith, but that he had to be patient with me; it could take a while and I couldn't promise anything. To this day I have kept up on my part of the bargain, and so has he. We have taken a liking to ULC. We attend regularly, I have volunteered to make soup on Sundays, we have helped at events, Jay has joined in at St. Luke's for basketball with Pastor Scott and we have started to feel like we belong to the community. I know that we have a long way to go still, but we are definitely making progress. I could go more in depth with this, but for your sake I'll save it for another day! :)
Well, at least that is how it was until I got a little older and started asking questions, when I was about 14 or 15. The Catholic Church is very hypocritical. Everything was as is with no questions asked, or really allowed to ask. Questions made people feel uncomfortable, which made me feel uncomfortable. The bible is taken VERY literal, which is some cases I find interesting. Sunday School and Cadacism seemed to be also brainwashing. It got to the point were I questioned my faith and started to go down the road as a non-believer. When I was 13, I was forced to go to Church every Sunday, or else I was grounded (and I parents went to the 8am mass, which was TERRIBLE for a teenager!) When I turned 16 I was allowed to go to the 10am mass. At this point in my life my brother Ronnie was living with us, and she made me and Samantha go together. It was soooo forced that we naturally rebelled. Our way of proving that we went to church was to bring a copy of the Church's newsletter home with us. So, we went (for a few seconds), I would pull in, Samantha would run in and get a newsletter, run back to the car and we would go to breakfast to waste an hours time before we could go home.
The week before I went to college, my parents had a very unfortunate event: the roof of their furniture store blew off in a storm. The insurance company refused to pay, claiming that it was water damage. My parents, in turn, sued them for the $1.8 million to get their business back up and running. In the mean time, court costs for 3yrs were wearing them down, they had to find other means of income and we almost lost our home that was up for foreclosure. Also, at the same time, while my parents were trying to sell what furniture they could save, out of a tent in the parking lot, my brother Ronnie developed a terrible Heroine addiction and lived in a vehicle in the parking lot in Ypsi. He also owed someone 12 grand, and arranged for them to come pick up 12 grand of furniture in the middle of the night to pay for his drug habit. During this period of time I continued to question my faith. There are so many things that do not make sense. Yet there are so many things, science based, that have no explanation. And so many things that are so perfect, that are miracles. I thought about all of these things, and thought that there must be a being greater than us! BUT... then, that's when I cursed GOD, I was sooo mad! If there was a God, how could he let all of these terrible things happen to my family.
While at college I only attended church 1 time in East Lansing. I had a few deep conversations with my friend Claire (who was raised in a religious Methodist family) about our beliefs, but that was it. At this point, until I met Jay, I only attended church on Christmas, Ash Wednesday, Easter and Mother's Day. My parents has also started to question God. They started attended a bible study, that was hosted at a neighbors home, who were Free Methodists. I attended a few times with my Mom when I was in town. My parents started to realize how dry our church had been, and started attending church regularly with the neighbors. This opened me up for other things. Until then, you were Catholic and that was that. Now, having my mom tell me that it didn't matter to what faith I belonged, as long as I believed in God it was OK with her. This was revealing!
When Jay and I started dating, I straight up told him that I didn't believed in God the way he does, and that I have struggled with my faith for a while. He did not like that and explained how important those things were to him. I told him that I would work hard on strengthening my faith, but that he had to be patient with me; it could take a while and I couldn't promise anything. To this day I have kept up on my part of the bargain, and so has he. We have taken a liking to ULC. We attend regularly, I have volunteered to make soup on Sundays, we have helped at events, Jay has joined in at St. Luke's for basketball with Pastor Scott and we have started to feel like we belong to the community. I know that we have a long way to go still, but we are definitely making progress. I could go more in depth with this, but for your sake I'll save it for another day! :)
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