Madre's Missives

Answered Un-Prayers

Sandra Ostapowich — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 23:17:12 -0600

I can handle a lot of stress and am an expert multi-tasker. And I have a freaky memory in that I can juggle a lot of detailed information inside my head. But when I finally do get stressed out, it's not pretty at all. You will probably never encounter someone as negative and pessimistic as I can get. I know the future, I know everything, and it is only bad.

But somehow, probably because I'm baptized and stuff, surprising things happen in the midst of it. Just when I'm at the end of my rope, barely remaining sane, I get a completely random call from someone who has never called me. Just to tell me they're thinking of me and are praying for me and thought I could use a little encouragement. Or I get an email out of the blue from someone I haven't talked to in months...asking if I need help with something (and I do, and had no idea until that moment just how I was going to delegate some of the load).

The Lord is cool like that. Surprising us with just the right gifts at just the right time, when we didn't even realize we had been asking for them and had even given up our own hope that anything could possibly even improve. And then BAM. Forced to be hopeful again. (See? I told you I could be negative!)

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words."
(Romans 8:26)

Disco Revival!

Sandra Ostapowich — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 12:35:56 -0600

Although many people (not me!) would rather die a slow, painful death than listen to the hallmark falsetto of the BeeGees, recent research has shown that knowing some of those catchy disco tunes may save lives!

An ER doctor in Toronto was trying to help students gauge just how fast to perform chest compressions during CPR. He shared his idea with some other researchers in the US and they shared it with the American Heart Association. This doctor discovered that the tempo of the always-memorable Stayin' Alive could really help you do that. The AHA recommends that CPR be performed at a rate of 100 beats per minute. Now, unless you happen to carry around a handy-dandy pocket metronome wherever you go, how in the world are you supposed to know how fast that is?

"Ah ah ah ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive" is your musical cue. When research subjects kept that song in mind as they performed CPR on mannequins, they were much more likely to do chest compressions at the proper rate.

I guess Queen's hit song, Another One Bites the Dust is also at the appropriate tempo. But it doesn't carry quite the same positive message that you may want to keep in mind as you're performing CPR.

Still Baptized

Sandra Ostapowich — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 23:08:21 -0600

Sunday, October 5, 2003 started out as a fairly normal Sunday. Isaac and I went to church. Afterwards, we met up with my parents and brother at Applebee's (where else?). I had a Higher Things conference call scheduled in the early afternoon and the ordination of a friend from high school to attend in the evening. During lunch, my husband called inviting me on a drive with him that afternoon - we had been going through a rough time, more arguing than usual. We had even started seeing a marriage therapist just that past week. When I reminded him about my plans for the day, he got all terse and huffy. In an effort to make my marriage a priority over my personal interests, I gave in and said I'd skip it all, inhaled the rest of my lunch, and headed home.

But by the time I got there, he had changed his mind about the drive and was already in the middle of some intense videogame-playing in the man-cave. Annoyed that I had rushed home for no reason, I put Isaac down for a nap and took care of the conference call. A little while later, my mom picked up me and Isaac to go to the ordination service. The service went on for nearly two hours, and since Isaac was getting fussy we decided to leave. Once home, I put Isaac down, and then went to see if anything had happened while I was gone.

Apparently, nothing had actually happened, except my husband stewing about all our ongoing arguments and disagreements all day long. We had the strangest arguments of any married couple I ever knew. The main one was he found my faith disgusting and repulsive and was offended that anything or anyone, including the Lord God Himself, would come before him and my son. I had actually tried to avoid arguments about it but often couldn't, or I just didn't realize they'd be a big deal to someone who supposedly was Lutheran too. He couldn't stand that I don't believe Jews or Muslims are going to heaven while they deny Christ; I was a wet blanket on every conversation because I couldn't stop talking about Jesus; I don't believe women should be ordained; I don't believe anyone should take communion at my church just because they felt like it...I was judgmental, intolerant, etc.

So when I went downstairs, he made some comment about the ordination service and my beliefs. I refused to take the bait. That just made him more angry. He glared at me and said between clenched teeth, "You must think I am a test of your faith or something." Well, let's think this through...my husband tells me nearly every day how wrong, stupid and unenlightened I am to believe as I do, tells me that he will do everything in his power to make sure Isaac doesn't grow up to believe like I do, that I and my beliefs are "disgusting and repulsive", etc. Yet, he refuses to set foot in a church, even on Christmas or Easter. Yeah...I think this situation would pretty much define a test of my faith. I responded, "Yes...", careful not to say that I thought he was a test of my faith, but the situation itself was.

But it didn't matter what I said or how carefully I said it, he only heard what he wanted to hear. His eyes flashed, "So you think I'm a test of your faith?? Like I'm some spawn of Satan come here to test your faith?" I turned to walk away. Before I could even say, "No," as I left, he was out of his chair, tearing across the room after me. I didn't know a 6'5", 320 lb. man could move that fast. He grabbed me and spun me around, put his hands around my neck, and lifted me over his head, at least two feet off the ground. I don't remember if I screamed. I could see his mouth moving as he raged at me dangling in the air, but couldn't hear anything above the blood pressure throbbing in my ears. Just as I began to pass out, he dropped me and retreated back into his man-cave.

Fortunately, I'm one of those people who are really good in a crisis. Always have been. As soon as my feet were on the ground again, I went upstairs and began packing a suitcases for me and my then 15-month old son. As I packed, my husband came upstairs and leaned on the bedroom door, smirking. "I guess this means you won't be at the marriage therapist's tomorrow afternoon?" I pushed past him, loaded the car, grabbed Isaac and the laptop and left. I dropped off my son at my parents' house with my brother and drove across town to find a hotel room.

Somehow I hadn't realized until that night that I had been living in crisis-mode for the last eight years. The abuse stages of tension-building, blow-up, and honeymoon were, after that many years, cycling so fast that there wasn't even a cycle anymore. The tension was so high all the time, I was on constant alert, monitoring and controlling every minute detail I possibly could to avoid a blow-up.

Denial is an amazing thing. And when I couldn't deny anymore that I was a victim of abuse, all my very meticulously crafted walls of self-deception came crashing down around my feet. The realization of the truth about everything I had spent so much energy justifying, excusing, denying, covering up, and cleaning up was almost too much to bear at once.

My life changed that night, significantly. Everything that I had known to be true, my life, my marriage, my family was not what I had though them to be. Everything except the one objective fact I could trust to be true, that I was compelled to cling to for dear life: I am baptized.

I almost became superstitious about the crucifix necklace I wore. It was a tangible reminder for me that God hadn't abandoned me, He hadn't forgotten about me, that I am not being punished, that even this terrifying experience was somehow for my good - not just one day, but right at that very moment - because my Baptism promised that good was all the Lord has for me.

Today was the five-year anniversary of my new life. It's even a Sunday again. But I'm not really looking back in celebration. Despite months of trying to repair the damage, it just wasn't possible and my marriage ended in divorce. That's nothing to celebrate. Honor, remember, learn from...but not celebrate. It seems strange, even to me, to look back and remember what life was like before, like watching a movie...only I know the details of each and every scene too well. It makes me sad to remember these things. It is not something I want to dwell on, but it is not something that I ever want to forget either. Nor can I even if I wanted to.

I was surprised by an anxiety attack just a couple of weeks ago. The instructor at Isaac's Tae Kwon Do class was working with an advanced student on choke holds and breaks, so she put her hands around the student's neck in a strangle hold. Just seeing that gesture, even to someone else in a controlled setting was more than I could handle. My mind was back in the basement that night. My heart began to race, my hands got sweaty. I thought I might pass out or throw up, or both. I had to go outside to regain my composure.

As different and wonderful as my life is now, better than I could've imagined when I was struggling to buy diapers for my son and waiting tables to pay the bills, this experience has changed me in many ways I don't like, such as having these attacks from time to time, and giving me all sorts of baggage for any future relationships I may have. And it's really hard being a single mother. It breaks my heart that I broke my promise Isaac's birthmother that he would have a wonderful life in a family that she could not provide as a single mother herself. He doesn't get to grow up with a father in his life and probably won't ever have siblings beyond the imaginary ones he invents for himself.

But what I do celebrate today is the gift that the experience has been for me, and for others. Despite everything (more likely because of it), I have been blessed beyond my wildest dreams. I have grown into someone I couldn't even have imagined being before. I have been given personal insight into a situation that is far too common to women, sympathizing and bringing the comfort of the Gospel to bear in a way that others cannot as easily. Even today, the Lord is using my experience and my suffering to bring Christ to others. This blog is one of those ways, more are in the works.

Statistically, there are people reading these words who have experienced abuse at the hands of the ones who were supposed to protect and tend to them. You are not alone. Your Savior was beaten, He was despised, He was rejected, He was punished for things He didn't deserve. He has not forgotten about you and His promises to you are trustworthy. He is the Bridegroom who carefully washes you, purifies you, forgives you, and calls you the most wonderful and beautiful woman in all creation. He loves you with all His being and has given Himself to save you from eternal suffering. And he has made you, you sitting there on the other side of the screen reading this right now, His own through Baptism. Cling to that. They say that when you're going through a crisis you have to take things one day at a time. That's so not true. It's one breath at a time, one minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time, one month at a time, one year at a time. Until, before you know it, it's been five years.

Every time you doubt, every time you fear what may happen next, or wonder how you're going to make it one more minute, remember that you are still baptized.

One of Those Days

Sandra Ostapowich — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 17:01:30 -0600

Today has been one of those days.

After two consecutive weeks of very poor playing in the Higher Things Fantasy Football League, I benched my QB, Carson Palmer. Of course, today, he scores like he used to. And no one expected Ronnie Brown to come out like he did today. Least of all me. He was on my bench. Scored an amazing FORTY-FOUR points for my bench. Argh.

And then they say in youth ministry that numbers don't matter and sometimes things just don't work. It's true, and it happens. I had this brilliant idea that on the 3rd Sunday of each month, we'd go to a 3-o'clock showing of a movie in the theaters that has something interesting to say about faith and life, etc. and then we'd come back to my house (I know, me...entertain!) where we'd have supper (I KNOW! Me...cook!) and talk about it over dinner.

The Metrolux has slim pickings as far as PG-13 movies go right now, so I announced that we'd go to the 3:45 showing of The Women. I cleaned (which needed doing anyway) and made - from scratch, without use of any recipes - my family's secret recipes of Sloppy Joes and potato salad. Big batches even, for all the starving hordes of teenagers who would show up. I knew the movie choice was a risk, but we're at the mercy of the theater management on that. Next month should have better options.

No one showed. Not one person. One high school in town had homecoming this weekend, so some kids are tired. Others have to work. The guys weren't interested in a chick-flick - I knew I was pushing my luck there. Such is life.

I'm not letting it get me down. This is the way things go. I've learned a few lessons.

Pick a better movie, preferably something controversial or popular. (Pray that better movies are out and have the proper ratings!)
Promoting the event isn't enough, promote the movie selection as well.
Get a babysitter for Isaac.
Don't cook quite so much food, and prepare something more easily freezable.

So the sloppy joes are cooling in the crockpot. I'll just bag up the meat and freeze it until next month. I think my two ladies' Bible studies this week will be enjoying potato salad, and the youth group will have the opportunity to eat it with our pizza on Wednesday night. (Much to their surprise and delight, I'm sure!)

It could be worse. My house is clean (at least the common areas), I have plenty of homemade food to last for days, and now I get to take a nap. :)

Surprising Advocate for Headcovering

Sandra Ostapowich — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 10:08:48 -0600

Veiled sexuality meshes with Muslim values
Thursday, Sept. 4, 2008

By NAOMI WOLF
NEW YORK — A woman swathed in black to her ankles, wearing a head scarf or a full chador, walks down a European or North American street, surrounded by other women in halter tops, miniskirts and short shorts. She passes under immense billboards on which other women swoon in sexual ecstasy, cavort in lingerie or simply stretch out languorously, almost fully naked. Could this image be any more iconic of the discomfort the West has with the social mores of Islam, and vice versa?

Ideological battles are often waged with women's bodies as their emblems, and Western Islamophobia is no exception. When France banned head scarves in schools, it used the hijab as a proxy for Western values in general, including the appropriate status of women. When Americans were being prepared for the invasion of Afghanistan, the Taliban were demonized for denying cosmetics and hair color to women; when the Taliban were overthrown, Western writers often noted that women had taken off their scarves.
But are we in the West radically misinterpreting Muslim sexual mores, particularly the meaning to many Muslim women of being veiled or wearing the chador? And are we blind to our own markers of the oppression and control of women?

The West interprets veiling as repression of women and suppression of their sexuality. But when I traveled in Muslim countries and was invited to join a discussion in women-only settings within Muslim homes, I learned that Muslim attitudes toward women's appearance and sexuality are not rooted in repression, but in a strong sense of public versus private, of what is due to God and what is due to one's husband. It is not that Islam suppresses sexuality, but that it embodies a strongly developed sense of its appropriate channeling — toward marriage, the bonds that sustain family life and the attachment that secures a home.

Outside the walls of the typical Muslim households that I visited in Morocco, Jordan and Egypt, all was demureness and propriety. But inside, women were as interested in allure, seduction and pleasure as women anywhere in the world.

At home, in the context of marital intimacy, Victoria's Secret, elegant fashion, and skin care lotions abounded. The bridal videos that I was shown, with the sensuous dancing that the bride learns as part of what makes her a wonderful wife, and which she proudly displays for her bridegroom, suggested that sensuality was not alien to Muslim women. Rather, pleasure and sexuality, both male and female, should not be displayed promiscuously — and possibly destructively — for all to see.

Indeed, many Muslim women I spoke with did not feel at all subjugated by the chador or the head scarf. On the contrary, they felt liberated from what they experienced as the intrusive, commodifying, basely sexualizing Western gaze. Many women said something like this: "When I wear Western clothes, men stare at me, objectify me, or I am always measuring myself against the standards of models in magazines, which are hard to live up to — and even harder as you get older, not to mention how tiring it can be to be on display all the time. When I wear my head scarf or chador, people relate to me as an individual, not an object; I feel respected."

This may not be expressed in a traditional Western feminist set of images, but it is a recognizably Western feminist set of feelings. I experienced it myself. I put on a shalwar kameez and a head scarf in Morocco for a trip to the bazaar. Yes, some of the warmth I encountered was probably from the novelty of seeing a Westerner so clothed; but, as I moved about the market — the curve of my breasts covered, the shape of my legs obscured, my long hair not flying about me — I felt a novel sense of calm and serenity. I felt, yes, in certain ways, free.

Nor are Muslim women alone. The Western Christian tradition portrays all sexuality, even married sexuality, as sinful. Islam and Judaism never had that same kind of mind-body split. So, in both cultures, sexuality channeled into marriage and family life is seen as a source of great blessing, sanctioned by God.

This may explain why both Muslim and orthodox Jewish women not only describe a sense of being liberated by their modest clothing and covered hair, but also express much higher levels of sensual joy in their married lives than is common in the West. When sexuality is kept private and directed in ways seen as sacred — and when one's husband isn't seeing his wife (or other women) half-naked all day long — one can feel great power and intensity when the head scarf or the chador comes off in the sanctity of the home.

Among healthy young men in the West, who grow up on pornography and sexual imagery on every street corner, reduced libido is a growing epidemic, so it is easy to imagine the power that sexuality can still carry in a more modest culture. And it is worth understanding the positive experiences that women — and men — can have in cultures where sexuality is more conservatively directed.

I do not mean to dismiss the many women leaders in the Muslim world who regard veiling as a means of controlling women. Choice is everything. But Westerners should recognize that when a woman in France or Britain chooses a veil, it is not necessarily a sign of her repression. And, more importantly, when you choose your own miniskirt and halter top — in a Western culture in which women are not so free to age, to be respected as mothers, workers or spiritual beings, and to disregard Madison Avenue — it's worth thinking in a more nuanced way about what female freedom really means.

Naomi Wolf, the author, most recently, of "The End of America: Letter of Warning to a Young Patriot" and the forthcoming "Give me Liberty: How to Become an American Revolutionary," is cofounder of the American Freedom Campaign, a U.S. democracy movement. © 2008 Project Syndicate (www.project-syndicate.org)

Article copied from: http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/eo20080904a2.html

I Liked The Shack

Sandra Ostapowich — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 10:45:13 -0600

There’s a LOT of hype out there about this book, and it usually starts like this: “Well I haven’t read the book and don’t to read the book, but here’s my opinion about what I’ve heard about this book…” Or: “So-and-so from this branch of theology liked it/didn’t like it, and that tells me everything I need to know about the issue.”

I’ve been taught some pretty wackadoo theology in my lifetime. And it’s a hobby of mine to read books and watch “religious” movies just for the fun of ripping them to theological shreds. On the other hand, I’m just as eager to find nuggets of good theology out there for public consumption as well. So I was skeptical and had low expectations of The Shack because there’s rarely good stuff out there, but I also had an open mind – willing to consider a perspective I hadn’t before, and to think in new ways.

On both counts, I wasn’t disappointed.

Generally speaking (because I could go on and on and on with specifics – my book is full of post-its and underlining!), The Shack is a bit like Pilgrim’s Progress in that it is not so much the plot line that is important but the dialogue between the different characters. In The Shack, the main characters are Mack Phillips and God – “Papa” or El-ousia, Jesus (as Himself), and “Sarayu” (a.k.a. the Holy Spirit). In a very small nutshell, Mack has a vision in which he spends a weekend hanging out with the Triune God at the dilapidated shack where his young daughter was molested and murdered – but in the vision, it’s a beautiful lakeside cabin.

What I really enjoyed about The Shack was that complex and substantial theological questions are handled in a very accessible and Gospel-filled way. This book tackles issues like the “otherness” of God, the problem of evil, original sin, relationship, the Cross, reconciliation between God and mankind, the Trinity, grace, freedom, love, and forgiveness in dialogue. As one who prefers to learn and teach through dialogue rather than lecture, I appreciated the conversational give-and-take as Mack’s understanding develops.

I was taught by the late, great Gerhard Forde that you can talk about theology, even talk about Jesus Himself and everything He did all day long, but until it is made personal – until it’s all for you – it’s not the Gospel. It doesn’t do anyone any good to talk about how Jesus died and rose unless Jesus died and rose for you. That personal aspect of the Gospel and the centrality of Christ’s work is made abundantly clear over and over again in The Shack. Every doctrine – even the Trinity itself, is explained as being for us. That one was new and different for me to think about, yet so consistent with the larger picture I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of it sooner.

Young is big on relationships. It’s a very strong theme throughout the vision. God’s relationship with Himself in the Trinity, and His relationship with us (only possible through Jesus), and our human relationships with one another. God didn’t create relationships to be hierarchical, but so that we could serve and love one another. Relationships are meant to be free, mutually submissive, and loving. And at the center of it is Jesus, Whose death and resurrection reconciled God to the world.

Some have suggested that The Shack is “emergent” because of its emphasis on personal relationship with God and its anti-institutionalistic stance on religion. This, no doubt, appeals to proponents of that movement. And while that may be true, I don’t think it’s entirely accurate. My impression is that Young does a great job with the Gospel, the for you behind everything God does, the problem of evil, submission, love, forgiveness, and even the atonement – better than I’ve probably ever encountered outside the Bible and Small Catechism. Salvation’s achievement is clearly taught and proclaimed in The Shack. Where it falls short is in the delivery of salvation and God’s gifts for us in Christ through His instituted means of Word and Sacrament. For this reason, I wouldn't recommend it to anyone I wouldn't be willing or able to have a continued conversation with.

And that’s my biggest beef with The Shack – it stops short. Over and over and over and over again, Young emphasizes God’s desire for a relationship with all people through Jesus, as well as the fact that only He can and has done everything necessary for that to happen. But the reader is never told where she may go to continue that relationship aside from looking to her own feelings, “visions”, impressions, private revelations, dreams, etc. I don’t think Young would be opposed to finding God where He has promised to be for us – in His Word and Sacraments. My guess is that he just doesn’t know about it, or understand that God is present and continues the relationship in tangible, external ways. So, his readers probably won't know about it either.

The problem with failing to address the delivery of God’s gifts for us is that it also leaves the reader wondering if we are being taught universalism in this book. Clearly, The Shack teaches universal atonement (so do we). But when there is no concrete delivery of the benefits from that atonement achieved for everyone through the means of grace, there is nothing to be rejected and therefore no real consequences for rejecting all that God has done for us. Young deftly dodges questions about this issue when interviewed, and carefully avoids it in the book. Strangely, for all his emphasis on everything being for us, Young seems to be ignorant of just how Jesus makes Himself concretely for us.

However, that’s exactly where we, as Lutherans especially, can step in and pick up the ball. We know where the Lord continues to come to us on a regular basis to give to us of Himself – not because we follow the rules better than other churches, or because we have the best rituals, but because that’s what He has promised to do for us. He has not only reconciled us with Himself through Christ’s death on the cross for our sins, He nourishes His relationship with us through His Word and through the daily dying to our sinful nature in Baptism, and through the nourishment of His own Body and Blood. We don’t have to go to a rundown shack and hope to have some sort of visionary encounter with God in nature, or our trust in our own feelings in order to have a relationship with God today. We know that the Lord comes to us, to love us, to forgive us, to give us His gifts, and to serve us every week in clear and tangible ways. He says so and His Word is True.

Permanently Marked

Sandra Ostapowich — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 15:05:13 -0600

It probably wasn't most brilliant idea I ever came up with to get a tattoo in college (junior year, March 12, 1993 to be exact), but at least it was a Trinity symbol. I had been thinking of getting a tattoo for a while, I just didn't know what to get done. When I saw the triangle of three fish embroidered on a kneeler pad in Cleveland, OH, I knew that was it. Before it registered in my mind that I was a paying customer and could make the artist change the design (even if he was big and scary-looking), "Ace" was already working on the outline, which is well...permanent*.

I can't say I regret getting a tattoo in principle. I just don't like the tattoo on my ankle, and haven't liked it since the day I got it. I still think the image itself is really cool and meaningful, but it's too big. Way too big. It's higher on my ankle than I wanted - practically on my calf. And it's upside-down, which makes it look like a messed-up Superman emblem from a distance.

Yet there it is, for the rest of my life.

We all know that tattoos, once generally considered artifacts from the adventures with less-noble savages and unsavory types you wouldn't want your precious daughter to date, have now become commonplace. So what is a Christian to think about things like tattoos?

Most obviously, there's that whole Bible verse thing. God instructed the ancient Israelites, "You shall not make any cuts on your body for the dead or tattoo yourselves: I am the Lord." (Leviticus 19:28). However, the verses immediately before and that one also condemn eating rare steak, trimming the hair at your temples or on your beard, cutting oneself for the dead, and selling your daughter into prostitution. So should we be observing more laws than we do? Probably. But Christians have been set free from bondage to the Law. As Paul teaches, all things are now permissible for us...but not all things are beneficial (1 Corinthians 10:23).

For example, it might not be smart for you to get a tattoo somewhere that is not easily covered by everyday clothing later in life. And it's probably not wise to get something permanently inked on your body that isn't necessarily permanent - like your boyfriend's name. And it would be a bad idea to get a tattoo of some pagan religious symbol. And you really shouldn't disobey your parents and get a tattoo against their will or without their consent.

Tattoos are no longer the exclusive territory of bikers, sailors, "unwashed heathens" or even of Olympic athletes. These days, ordinary people - like me - are getting inked more and more. My tattoo is not a naked woman emblazoned on my chest, or a swastika on my hand, or a teardrop on my cheek. It's a symbol of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. It's a reminder of my Baptism.

Do I wish it was in a different place so I could cover it up more easily? Sometimes. I also wish I could cover up my faith sometimes too. It's there whether I like it or not. Is it too big? Absolutely. So's God, if you ask me on a bad day. Do I ever think about having it removed? Yep. But that would be like trying to undo my Baptism, so I haven't.

So while you are free in Christ to adorn the body you've been given in this life with things like tattoos, piercings, hair dye, and jewelry...you are also free to keep things simple. These outward things are not what make you a Christian, nor are they what make you truly beautiful. God doesn't see us that way. He sees us as the washed, holy, pure, unblemished, unwrinkled, unmarred people He has made us in Christ.

In Baptism, we are marked with the sign of the Cross on our forehead and on our heart to identify us as one redeemed by Christ, the crucified, who bears the marks of our sin in His own body. We remember that Baptismal mark every time we make the sign of the Cross. That cross from our Baptism is invisible - but it's just as permanent as a tattoo, if not moreso. It marks us in this life...and marks us for eternal life in Jesus Christ.

* Yes. It hurts to have a tiny needle jab ink deep into the layers of your skin. It doesn't feel like getting a bunch of shots at the doctor's office, it's more like getting snapped by a tiny rubber band. Really hard. In the same place over and over, like, a zillion times.

On Being Silent

Sandra Ostapowich — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 00:31:13 -0600

"As in all the churches of the saints, the women should keep silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be in submission, as the Law also says." (1 Corinthians 14:33-34)

More often than not, this passage is quoted to keep women in line, to remind us that we are prohibited from being pastors because we Scripture tells us that we are not permitted to speak in church. It's usually quoted by men, and frequently with a scowl.

It stings. It makes the hair on the backs of our necks stand up. We don't like it, and we don't like the people who quote it at us. Silence is not something that comes naturally to us since the Fall.

Women keeping silent means trusting that then men given to you will speak for you, will represent you, will take your needs and desires into consideration, will do what's best for you, will not forget about you, will put you before themselves.

The problem comes in when we take a hard look at the men around us. They fail us all the time. They forget to pick up milk at the store, they work late, leave their dirty socks on the floor and whiskers coating the sink. They're needier than babies when they get a sniffle. The sink still leaks, the lawn needs mowing. They get angry and say mean things to us. They scare us, they hurt us. And sometimes they just up and leave us, or force us to leave them for our own safety.

Trust men like that to speak up for us? Depend on them to take care of us? They can't even load the dishwasher the right way! How in the world can we just sit back and expect them to do the right thing without us practically doing it for them? It's just as bad at church as it at home, maybe worse.

Scripture reminds us that the Church is the Bride of Christ. We are there to receive God's gifts for us through Word and Sacrament. And the only faithful thing we have to speak together are the words we have been given by the Lord in Scripture. Women get to demonstrate this faithfulness in silence twice over. There's a reason quietness is extolled as beautiful in women, it's faithfulness.

"The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent."
(Exodus 14:14)

Our husbands are to love us Christ loves His Bride, the Church. They get to be Christ for us. That means they get to be the ones who fight for us, who speak for us, who tend to us, care for us, protect us, and even sacrifice their lives for us. Not just husbands either. The elders of the church are given that responsibility for the adult women without husbands or other male family members to care for them.

The Lord, through the men given to us, will fight for us. Even the sinful, flawed men in our lives, whose sins and flaws we know all too well. Those men on their own, no, they probably aren't trustworthy and probably won't make good decisions all the time. But the Lord is working, doing good for us, through these men he's given us. He's also given us the faith to receive all the good they, and He, are going to do for us. We have no reason to expect anything less than the best from Him, and them.

"...let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious." (1 Peter 3:4)

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on your side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to your God to order and provide;
In ev'ry change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; your best, your heav'nly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul; your God will undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul; though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in this vale of tears;
Then you will better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe your sorrows and your fears.
Be still, my soul; your Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul; the hour is hast'ning on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, loves purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
(LSB #742)

How to Get a Job at the Car Shop

Sandra Ostapowich — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 22:55:33 -0600

There are different types of jobs and different types of towns. There can be many kinds of stores in the whole planet.

Even some stores are the big green home stores. No matter what you are doing it always is suppose to be the right way and only you can do whatever you want but not something bad.

Even a type of any object. Some objects are really sharp even knives. Screws and their ends are pointed. Screws are very pointy and you may get poked. There are different types of stuff that may be dangerous or soft and not dangerous.

Gas might be really hot because sometimes it flames up and that's how cars use up gas.

I don't know what to do to get a job. Can you help me!

Dictated by Isaac to Grandma Jean while he was at her house this summer.

Post-Conference Thoughts

Sandra Ostapowich — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 01:13:38 -0600

Having just coordinated three Higher Things Amen conferences this summer, I have a few post-conference reflections to share...

Worship
Once again, conference worship (TEN total services in 4 days, plus nightly Prayer at the Close of the Day in small groups) was a huge highlight of the conferences. Worship at HT conferences is pretty much the same as it is in many of our home churches all across the country, using the liturgy and hymnal. Yeah, we find some pretty amazing organists. We're pretty sure that Chris Loemker has a secret set of arms like some Hindu organ-playing demi-god. Oh, and Pr. Cwirla wore his "bling" stole for the Divine Service at Amen - Irvine. But other than that, things are pretty normal.

Worship at HT conferences is not like a concert where you sing along with the band who actually drown out the audience's singing. The congregational singing - oh, the singing!! - is just...breathtaking. Hundreds of teenagers, singing HYMNS at the top of their lungs. In harmony! Kids are supposed to require strobe lights, disco balls, and big-name (or big-name-sounding) bands, dramatic illustrations with movie clips on the big screens, etc. etc. etc. in order to get their interest in anything. Not true! They love the liturgy, they love hymns! Chaplains took the opportunity at all three conferences to teach about different aspects of the service that might not be familiar to everyone. The Daily Services book also contained important information that taught about the services and practices as well.

At HT conferences, only LCMS pastors preach and lead the services, only LCMS musicians (clergy and laity) play the instruments and direct the choirs. All of the services are taken straight from the LCMS hymnal. That means you can go to church on Sunday, open up the hymnal and see the very same services we used at the conferences. The hymns we sang are all in there too. And I bet your pastor would be tickled rose (the liturgical version of pink) if you asked him to lead one of them sometime, or teach your youth group about the history of the liturgy.

Work
Catechesis at the Amen conferences was also incredible. This year, we had two of our very best teachers leading the plenary sessions. LCMS pastors, Rev. George Borghardt and Rev. Mark Buetow taught us about Salvation's Achievement and Delivery and faith's response of "Amen" in our lives and vocations. Their dynamic and approachable teaching styles reminded us that Lutherans don't always have to be stodgy and straight-laced (and for those of us who are stodgy and straight-laced, it's still OK to crack a smile once and a while). And who can forget their free-time karaoke performances?? (No one, since they're on YouTube!) For SIX 45-minute classes, they kept their youth audiences in rapt attention. I heard time and time again from kids (including ones I didn't know) about how much they learned and grew from these sessions.

Breakaway and In-Depth Sectionals were also a hit. Conference attendees have the opportunity to choose an "In-Depth" sectional which meets for three sessions, as well as numerous "Breakaway" sectionals which are one-time sessions. The Catechesis Coordinators for each conference recruited a ton of great teachers from the adults registered to the conferences. There were sessions on just about every topic under the sun, all taught by LCMS pastors and laity. In total, there were 96 separate classes offered at all the three Amen conferences this summer!

Youth get to choose the specific topic they want to learn about, but all of the sessions teach meaty theology in an accessible way. Kids don't need watered-down, children's message type lessons covered with a sparkly veneer of fun. They don't need skits or video clips (skits on a screen) to learn. They don't need hands-on activities touching rocks or burning pieces of paper to learn. To learn, they need to be taught and given some meat to dig their teeth into and inwardly digest. The learning opportunities at HT conferences challenges youth in their faith, teaches them substantial theology, and equips them to make use of it in their everyday lives. And they do!

Play
This year was a little different as far as the fun and entertainment of the conference went. Instead of trying to herd hundreds of teenagers to a major venue for something fun (the Amen - Irvine beach party being the one exception), we brought in some different types of entertainment and let everyone just...have fun in their own way. The campuses provided a number of different activities from swimming and soccer to line-dance lessons, movies on a theater screen, dodge ball tournaments, and the ever-popular karaoke! Ultimate Frisbee, Apples to Apples, card games, and just hanging out gave youth from all over the country (even the world) to laugh and get to know each other. And if your group didn't want to do any of those things, they could go and do their own fun thing during that time block. It really doesn't take wads of money and glitzy production plans for everyone to have fun!

And while the entertainment portion of the conference days are well...entertaining, having fun is not the point. Countless youth will tell you that the worship was "fun" and the catechesis was "fun". Fun in that context simply means they were engaged and interested in what they were doing. It wasn't just something they watched happen but piqued their interest, and made them want more. If you think about it, when "church" is just another place to go to be entertained, play in a souped-up garage...er...praise band, listen to leaders of different denominations talk to you about about morality, have fun, and hear a watered-down devotional (motivational) talk...then the place that has the coolest band, the biggest plasma screens, and the most motivating morality sermons will be where they go when they become adults.

If they continue going to church at all.

That's what happens when we replace the theology of the Cross for the theology of Glory. There are tons of places in the world where we can go to learn how to live with good, upstanding morals. There are even more places to go and be entertained in all sorts of ways. There's only one place to go to hear the Gospel - to the Church, where the Gospel is proclaimed in its purity and the Sacraments are administered in accordance with it.

We do all these things at HT conferences the way we do because we want nothing but the best for youth and want to help Lutheran pastors, parents, and congregations to provide it for them and keep them coming to Church, where God's gifts for us in Word and Sacrament are being given out. These are the formative years when teens really develop a personal understanding of their faith, why would anyone want it to be shaped by the teaching of authoritative people who teach anything less than the pure Gospel of Christ and Him crucified for us?

(For more information from the conferences and pictures from this summer, please visit www.amen2008.org.)