One of my favorite attractions at Disney's Hollywood Studios, "Muppet Vision 3D," is, as the name implies, a silly three dimensional short film featuring not only the beloved Muppets but also a cartoon character called Waldo, "the spirit of 3D." He's chubby and blue and looks a little like a penguin. At one point in the film, Waldo appears to fly off the screen - he hovers directly in front of you then quips, "Isn't this a great effect? Everyone thinks I'm talking to them, but I'm only talking to YOU!" I can't help marveling at the effect, and the gifted Disney imagineers who created it, each time I see the film.
I thought of Waldo yesterday when I attended "A Day With Beth Moore," a conference in Washington, DC, to kick off their "Women of Faith" weekend. Beth is a Bible teacher from Houston who I found "accidentally" on TV a few months ago. I'd spent the morning unsuccessfully fighting anxiety - not in a crowded elevator or boxed in on an airplane, but in the comfort and safety of my own home. In desperation, I flicked on the television and began surfing, hoping to find Joyce Meyer or Joel Osteen and a word from God I could cling to. Instead I found Beth Moore, telling a group of women about her experience "in the pit." They all thought she was talking to them, but she was really talking to me. I managed to climb out of the pit long enough to listen, and when the show was over, I did what any self-respecting, anxiety ridden, desperate housewife would do: I Googled her. The internet led me to Beth's online Bible study, "Believing God," which in turn led me to her second study, "Living Beyond Yourself." I also learned through her website that she would be in DC, and I made plans to attend.
As someone who loves to travel but hates the process, I had serious butterflies as I planned taking the train into Washington, getting a cab to the Verizon center, and attending the conference alone. Although I'd allowed myself 45 minutes to accomplish all of the above, when I finally arrived, I was half sick with excitement as I made my way through the throng. The lower section seats were occupied and I was instructed to take the escalators to the upper seats. Higher up than what was comfortable for me, alone in what appeared to be a sea of women in groups or pairs, I managed to snag an aisle seat, but I was still fighting the sense of suffocation that sometimes accompanies my being in a crowd.
Beth's friend and musician Travis Cottrell came out to greet us, and got everyone on their feet to worship in song. This is when I started to cry. I spent the next few songs mouthing the words and attempting to get a grip. It's very difficult for me to sing hymns; I become overwhelmed by the lyrics and affected by the music and all I can do is blubber. It happens to me in church on a regular basis, and yesterday was no exception; in fact, it was worse. Eleven thousand women were praising God in song. I felt overwhelmed.
By the time Beth reached the stage, I was nonchalantly touching my carotid artery to determine if this was indeed a heart attack, plotting the route to the restroom for when I inevitably threw up, and cursing myself for not staying home. People like me have no business in crowds! People like me should do Bible Studies on the computer!
She began talking rapidly right out of the gate. She apologized for being a woman who had issues with anxiety, wondered aloud why God had chosen a woman so anxiety prone to be a public speaker, and then joked about how she'd try to stand back if she actually got sick. She got down on her knees and prayed before starting the formal lesson. She thanked God for "healing my broken mind." She repeated this - "My broken mind. But I dressed it SO well." By then I was sobbing. Eleven thousand women. But she was only talking to me.
She spoke for the next few hours, and I furiously took notes, though I knew they'd never do her justice. For every time that I laughed out loud - and there were many! - I was drawn into utter silence by some universal, profound truth. She instructed me to write down "I have a ministry," recounting how when someone first suggested this to her, she's thought "a what?" as she had always assumed her ministry was "accessorizing." (Mine was "planning Disney trips," until I reached my forties, when it was joined by "crying at the drop of a hat.”) I went on to record in my notebook that, in Christ, I was competent enough for my ministry, that showing God off was the purpose of my ministry, that I had to learn how to hold on to my heart in my ministry, and that, most importantly, my ministry was in my authenticity.
Beth weaved her way through the Old and New Testaments, showing me not only just how beautifully and perfectly connected they are, but how they related to me personally - my life, my seasons, and my struggles. She spoke of Moses, and how, after his encounter with God, his face shone so that it scared the Israelites and he took to wearing a veil over his face when in their company, removing it only when he spoke with the Lord. She reminded me of the times I veiled my own face, hiding my Christianity on one hand, and my carnality on the other, and how much more effective I'd be in my ministry if I just showed up to it as is, without the veil. She reminded me of the times I cried out to God for help, and when relief came, went about my business. Afflictions, she noted, shouldn't just be diffused but should be used, to the glory of God. In my mind's eye I was recalling the small quiet moments where I sensed His presence, and how those moments seemed to be multiplying. I recounted the number of broken, imperfect souls God chose to use; happy to be in their company and eager to join them in ministry.
Near the end of the lesson, Beth cited 2 Corinthians 3:18: All of us, gazing with unveiled face on the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as from the Lord who is the Spirit. She suggested that being transformed from glory to glory was living in such a way that the veil separating me and God is removed, one thin layer at a time, until I see Him more and more, and He is revealed not just to me but through me.
On the train home, I re-read my notes, and marveled at how this beautiful funny woman was able to take a phrase written thousands of years ago and make it relevant to me at that very moment in time. And how, by doing that, she was able to turn God from some unseen, mysterious entity to a very real, palpable and powerful force in my life. The more I learn, the more real He becomes. The "veil" gets thinner and thinner.
It's a great effect.
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