Confessions of a ragamuffin diva
My idea of orthodox, I am embarrassed to say, involved a rather beautiful liturgy, ornate garments, and lots of candles and incense. Think Catholic, or Anglican. Think white people who do not scream, cry, and run between the pews—not that there’s anything wrong with that. To this day, recovering or not, I still find few things offer the relief of a good “shout”—that’s a very happy little dance, accompanied by drums, a thumpin’ bass, and an organ(to those who are uninitiated). And please note: literal shouting may be involved as well. ::Sigh:: Some days I really miss it. But I digress. I believe my point was, I am woefully ignorant of all things orthodox.
I’m not just a recovering charismatic. I’m also a recovering Word of Faith, name it and claim it, speak it into existence, and don’t ever be, or *claim* to be, sick, or broke, or otherwise defective. And while I received numerous prophetic words that spoke of the prosperity that would overtake me, I have yet to be overtaken by prosperity (and I sure could use some this week), and I didn’t find the movement, as a whole, to be very generous. Nor did I find many other Christian “movements” that I tried to be generous, as I stumbled about the faith, desperately seeking truth, and an authenticity that seemed to elude me.
A generous orthodoxy? Good heavens! What is that? After bumping about the narrow path of Christianity for 25 years, spiritually wearing black ray bans and seeing through them “very darkly”, I realize, that I know sadly little of generosity, and even less of orthodoxy, but here I am, by invitation no less, ready to learn, and ready to give. I’m just a pilgrim, really, and I can’t wait to talk about all this.
Brian says, “Quite simply, orthodoxy is belief in what is right, and by extension, what is wrong. So how can we act generously in our assertions of our most precious convictions.”
And to this I say, “How indeed?”
Maybe together we’ll figure it out.