ALPHA
The impact ten weeks can have on you, your life and the
way you navigate through your days.
Putting it all together.
Sounds easy, but I have found “putting it all together” to be much harder than I imagined. I have been accused of being a control freak – a slanderous remark thrown at me in a time of verbal confrontation and in less desirable context, but I’m sure there is some truth to it. My retort is: control-freak, maybe, but suggestion-maker, more likely.
Imagine my surprise when I started to listen to my own thoughts and take note of the wording I would use to describe them. They usually started with something like, “I hope…” or “I wish…” or the greatest of all, “I got so lucky when…” As I familiarized myself with Devonshire I started to realize the critical fault in those thoughts. I had proudly announced to people in the past how I didn’t believe in coincidence, and yet I used words like ‘hope’, ‘wish’ and ‘lucky’.
On the flip side, when something happened that was unfavorable, I would painfully internalize it and wish I could go back: “I must have done something wrong for this to have happened…”, “I should have…”, or “Why is this happening to me?”
Is it possible a control freak could accept blame for things out of my own control? Would a control freak hope or wish or believe in luck? I have known a few control freaks in my lifetime and none of them would place logic on hope. So how do they deal with the inevitable failures that life sometimes serves up? I asked one, and the answer was dismal: they don’t. They don’t deal well, at all.
So now that I have comfortably relieved myself from control freak status, I need to get to the point: For those among us who are critical or controlling by nature, how do we rely on faith to help us make sense of our daily victories and defeats? If we rely on our faith, is it truly faith by definition or is it an opportunity to decant reality and simply find peace with it?
Tough questions, right? It’s hard to ask questions like this; Tougher, is finding the answer.
The only real place to go to explore these questions is to find a local church and get the real story. Asking friends only further confused me. Asking family was too controversial. So I summoned the courage to go to church and there I found myself face to face with a person who has lived his entire life for Christ. I was too intimidated to ask my questions, never mind look him in the eye. (After all, I’m an undeniable, unconscionable sinner.) How will I ever find the answers to these questions?
Fulfilling my duties as the American majority, my husband and I attended church for Christmas Eve service. It was during this service that the pastor I couldn’t bring myself to speak to, talked about a new course that was coming to this church (their church – the one I was invading for Christmas Eve service). The title, “Is there more to life?” flashed on the screen above his head and the image of a man standing on a cliff overlooking some glorious unseen sight was under the caption. His arms were wide spread, as if opening himself up to something. Someone. I looked at my husband just as he turned to me and whispered, “We should look into that.”
One month later and after a childcare juggling act, there we were: Week One, sitting in a room of people who already knew one another. Sam and I were again, the invaders. After the ice was broken and we started to feel a bit more at ease, I still felt terrified. Each time it was my turn to speak to the group, my lungs lost air, my temples prickled and my palms turned clamy. If they don’t know already, they will find out I’m a biblical idiot. I have read almost none of the bible and I can’t even recite the Lord’s Prayer. I’m a sad example of Christianity and yet those burning questions remained and it was the only reason I returned the following week; that, and the free dinner.
As the weeks passed, my anxiety waned. The people in our group were warm and friendly. They didn’t care when I said something stupid, even when I didn’t know it was stupid at the time. I started looking forward to the meetings so I could see them – my small group. Each discussion left me feeling rejuvenated. It was as though I had come into contact with an element that took energy from me, but refilled my chest with emollient fullness. Sometimes the conversation was intense enough to leave me feeling emotionally exhausted, but I always walked away wiser and more intrigued.
By week ten I was hooked. The pastor asked me to speak in front of the group to give a testimony of the mildly miraculous changes that took place in my heart, my mind and my being. I gave him an emphatic “No way.” He shrugged and said alright.
Fast forward 30 minutes and there I was, in front of all these people among whom I had once felt like an invader, and I was telling them how I was affected by Alpha. My usual confident stance took on a much more childlike demeanor – hands swinging by my sides, I was shifting from left to right and kicking my feet. I opened up a lot with regard to my Alpha journey, but I heard myself saying how I had been relying on my faith in Christ before Alpha, even when I didn’t know I was.
My faith was shoddy at best and totally underdeveloped, but I had always relied on a higher power in times of weakness and was giving thanks at times of joy. Alpha helped me to give shape to the faith I already had and helped me to make sense of it. It was as though Devonshire – the people, the pastor and the course – had placed a pair of lenses on my face and they were the perfect prescription. Some call this an “awakening” or “turning toward Christ” but those phrases were intimidating to me. For someone BRAND NEW to the concept, it was more like a complex puzzle where I had been looking at the pieces all along and now all the edge pieces were connected, creating the border. The only thing left is to fill in the gaps.
So now, back to the point I was trying to make in the very beginning: “For those among us who are critical by nature, how do we rely on faith to help us make sense of our daily victories and defeats?”
Alpha helped me to realize just how in control I really am. I cannot control my circumstances, but I can control how I deal with them. When I’m not sure if I’m dealing with something the right way, I have a place I can go to find out if there is a better way to deal. There is guidance in places where, before there were only questions. There is a place where not knowing is okay – and asking is expected.
Although the border is confidently pieced together, my puzzle is nowhere near completion. The insides are developing and in some places an image is emerging, but many pieces still float about in wonder. That sense of ‘emollient fullness’ I talked about earlier is still in my chest and these pieces that float about don’t bother me like they once did. I know where they belong and as I continue to grow in my faith, they will find their place. There is extraordinary comfort in that alone.
In summation: control freak, pacifist, realist, optimist or pessimist – there is a place for us all to find answers and a place where comfort prevails. Comfort and answers are primal needs of all God’s people and like a good father, he provides them.
If you are still not sure about the commitment of ten weeks, then consider how small ten weeks is out of your lifetime. Consider the significant impact you could have on your remaining years if you DON’T check it out. If there is one thing about Alpha I can guarantee, it is that Alpha will help you find it. Whatever your ‘it’ may be.
Use the contact information to the right to sign up.
Sam and I will see you there.
