Dear Pneuma,

I struggle with the concept of community. I struggle with the idea of turning my determination over to a committee of believers. I struggle with the concept of surrendering myself, all that I am and can be, over to other people. I even struggle with the idea of turning myself over "to Jesus." On Sundays, we often sing hymns that imply a crucifixion of individual needs in following the call of Jesus in our lives.

I don't believe in it. I don't believe that anyone, Jesus Christ included, lives my life, and so I find an almost insurmountable barrier in myself when it comes to relinquishing self. There is a common thread in many Christian theologies that requires personal acceptance of failures, but no personal power in success. My sins are all my own, but any accomplishments are only "by the blood of Christ." I wonder, as a Christian, if I must accept this understanding: true Christians replace themselves with Christ, losing sin only in losing self.

I tried once, to nullify myself completely. I was in hate with my desires, my hopes, my dreams, my wounds, my body, my family, my friends. I was in hate with the entirety of life as I knew it. I decided to nullify myself, and found that I could not. What's more, in that bitter battle with God, I discovered that I had been denying myself for years. I had been standing in the tried and true methods of my ancestors, walking the straight and narrow, pretending that, simply, I could not actually matter. Putting goodness, purity, and "low maintenance" in place of my desires, my expectations, and my personal attainments, I still kept intruding. I simply would not go away, whether I mattered or not.

Waking back into life, I took some terrible chances. I made some terrible choices. I abrogated my will to my desires. I risked. I failed. I hurt people. I lost a carefully built network of relationships and patterns of choice, but I had decided to be. I live today, a life I treasure. I live today a life as full as it had been empty. I live today with a terrifying truth: I do matter, and every decision, choice, and action I make is my responsibility and my duty to God.

So often, on a Sunday morning, I hear sermons that seem to imply that Christ calls us to "renounce ourselves and the world," "to accept our insufficient powers," and to "turn ourselves over to him;" sermons of self-nullification, abrogation of will and a vision of sweet, easy surrender. I know a lie in this. I did not give myself to Christ with "joy and thanksgiving in my heart." I went kicking, screaming and crying. I went with hate boiling in my spirit. I went with nails and barbed wire in my soul. When I sing "I Surrender All," I am am Robert E. Lee at Appomatox Courthouse, not a pure and submissive bride, opening myself to my Lover's caresses and the inevitability of place in my community.

Christ has meaning for me because I am I. I believe that Christ's call is a call to the courage to be alive, the way that Jesus was alive. I believe it is a call to share, a call to compassion, and a call to the reckless belief that every human being matters absolutely. I do not believe that Christ carried me through the steepest times of my being: harried, yelled, encouraged, maybe Christ even stretched out his hand, but I climbed those hills myself, one filthy handful of clay at a time. I believe that many do the same.

Knowing these things in myself, I struggle with the idea of trusting the opinions and judgments of a religious community. I have a hard time letting a group be my wisdom. I have a hard time believing myself unequal to anyone in my community. I have a hard time bowing my head. Importantly, I find myself unwilling to be yoked to my community's vision when that vision requires a belief that the individual is a poor, miserly, insignificant, and powerless being. It feels like a betrayal of all the reasons I became a Christian in the first place.

Thanks for Listening,
Cobalt Dreams

Dear Pneuma,

Recently, I was asked to articulate what I believe about sacrifice in a philosophical discussion. I stated that I believe the act of sacrifice is somehow necessary for human well-being. How? In what ways? These are questions that I had a hard time addressing. Since then, I have also been thinking about prayer. I am finding that it, too, seems to be necessary for human well-being. How? In what ways?

The answer that I keep "hearing" to both of these questions, in both instances, is "to be right with God.," that humans need to sacrifice and to pray "to be right with God."

Uh-oh. What does this mean, "to be right with God?" Does this mean that God requires sacrifices and adoration from humanity? Why? What reason have I to sacrifice to and adore that which allows people to die in hunger, despair and violence? What reason have I to sacrifice to and adore that which allows children and animals to be systematically and cruelly abused, manipulated and destroyed? What satisfactory reason have I to sacrifice to and adore that which either ordained or ignored the unspeakable violations of the Crusades, the Black Plague, the Inquisition, the French Revolution, slavery, and and the calculated genocide of whole cultures of humanity in the American continents? What do I get in return?

Do I believe that I should sacrifice and pray to God so that I, the righteous person, can rest assured that disease and harm shall never touch me or mine? Is it then my fault, my lack of devotion and true contrition that caused a nearby relative to die slowly of cancer before her children and grandchildren's eyes? How does that reflect on her grandchildren's righteousness, children under 3? What does that say about the nature of God?

Do I believe that "being right with God" means that the whole nature of the Universe is changed? Am I to believe that if all humans on the planet (and beyond) were to "be right with God," not only would wars cease, but diabetes would no longer exist, broken bone would never happen, and no person's desire to listen to country music could conflict with my own preference for opera? Do I believe that, if all humanity were to "be right with God" that the Rocky Mountains themselves would become more magnificent and any less dangerous? Do I believe that prayer and sacrifice will make the vacuum of space any deeper and more meaningful to poets and musicians?

Though I realize the above conclusions may work in some people's theology-a theology where the very pine trees of this world are a twisted corruption, consigned by human sin to existence in Paradise Lost-they do not work in my theology. I do not believe in that understanding of God's relationship with the world.

I believe that God is what is. I believe that God named God's self as " I am that I am." I believe that the impenetrable, immovable, incorruptible truth of God is all that is. My will does not redefine this moment. My will does not call family back from the dead. My will does not erase hurricane Katrina. I do not believe that my prayers and my sacrifices recreate nature. I do not believe that my prayers and my sacrifices will bring my brother back to life or repay me for the years of knowing him that I have missed.

I do, however, believe that my prayers and my sacrifices make me "right with God." I believe they make me right with all that is, as it is, while freeing me to be in new relationship with the foundation of the Universe. Rather than causing God to wave Its fingers and take away my neighbor's unemployment, my prayers and my sacrifices align my understanding with the reality of my neighbor's unemployment, making it something that matters, rather than something to fear. My prayers and my sacrifices realize my disease, freeing me to relate authentically with the blessings and hardships that attend. My prayers and my sacrifices require movement from self-gratification to interaction with the reality that besets me.

Sacrifice means giving something precious to destruction. Prayer means giving something shameful to another's care. Both are acts of self-denial and faith. Both acts require without return. I believe that both are necessary to make humans "right with God"-aligned somehow with both adamantine reality and the human capacity to alter and transcend it. I believe that prayer and sacrifice are answered by God when we become vulnerable, broken and compassionate, relational with one another and with God.

Still Thinking,
Cobalt Dreams

Dear Pneuma,

I am uncomfortable in myself today. If I were an artist drawing a self-portait, I would be all black, slashy lines. I seem to be full of angry thoughts and ugly criticisms. Neither I nor my Beloved can get it right today. Neither doing, nor being are OK by my inner critic. It yells that I am selfish, but resists any move to gift. It yells that we have enough to spend, but pulls back in fear at the thought of buying anything more. It is angry that I am not enjoying this wonderful new day of cold, bright sunshine, yet its own nagging nature is at the root of my disenchantment.

I will attribute this to tiredness after the holidays. I will attribute this to the terrible messes we make with our lives. I will attribute this to my own inability to let go of the past. I will attribute this to a need to understand my world a certain way, and cowardice at the thought of trying to believe something new. I will attribute this to close loved ones that make me accountable for my own self by refusing to carry my burdens as their own.

All good reasons to feel angry, sullen, put-upon, unfinished, and swamped by intentions that rarely seem to materialize in actions.

Why am I so small? I want to be better than I am. I want to believe bravely. I want to love freely. I want to give easily. I want to care compassionately. I want to live fully. The only thing standing in my way is me. You'd think that would be a simple obstacle to overcome.

Yours ever,
Cobalt Dreams