Running to Worship

I used to get looks (and oftentimes comments) as I walked from my dorm to the gym while everyone was outside of the chapel chatting before they went in to worship.

"Skipping chapel for the gym (again)?"
"Why don't you just run after chapel?" (As if I hadn't thought of that idea.)
"Your priorities seem off."

Don't get me wrong, sometimes I go to chapel then run afterwards. Sometimes I run as long as I can before chapel and then make it back in time to worship. I don't skip chapel everyday. (Not that I would give two hoots about it if someone never ever came to chapel- do what you do.)

I'm just saying this happens often enough that people notice when I walk to the gym.

A friend asked me why I don't just wait until after chapel has started if I don't want to hear people be rude about my habits. I could do that. But I think should be able to expect people to respect me enough to let me do my own thing without criticizing me.  I don't do it to get a rise out of people- I have other ways of doing that.  And maybe I should wait an extra ten or fifteen minutes to walk to the gym.  But that's not the point.  When I want to run, I should be able to walk across the quad and go run without people judging me.

Did you notice my first sentence says that I used to get looks from people?  Nope, it doesn't happen anymore.  Probably because of my "I don't give a shit" attitude, but maybe because I actually have my priorities straighter than people first thought.

Here's why I sometimes run instead of going to chapel:

It has nothing to do with not having enough time.
It has nothing to do with school work that I need to get done.

It has everything to do with the fact that I am able to worship God wherever I am, during whatever I am doing.  And for me, running helps me focus on God.
It has everything to do with the fact that I cannot attend to my spiritual health until my mental, emotional, and physical health is straight.

I don't think this isn't the same for everyone, but I'm not making it up either. According to Abraham Maslow, we need certain things as human beings before we are able to truly achieve any "self-actualization," which (right or wrong), I translate as my spiritual health.

Here is Maslow's pyramid of needs: 

I have come to realize that when I do to chapel just because people say I should, I don't want to be spiritual. I don't even really want to worship God. When I try to fulfill my spiritual needs before my bottom level physical need (health/exercise) or my emotional needs (esteem through feeling good about myself) or my mental needs (security that I am not running my mind into the ground), I cannot bring myself to be spiritually present. Everything else starts to break down.

I realize that this starts to sound weird when you talk about people who have had major tragedies and lost their homes and are fighting to legitimately fulfill their physiological needs. Most people find spirituality the only thing they can cling to in those situations.  But I'm not in that type of situation.

I live a relatively comfortable life. And should I be thanking God on an hourly, secondly basis? Yes, absolutely. And I worship like that. I thank God constantly. It's not a process or a checklist I go through in my brain: do I feel healthy? Am I mentally okay? How am I feeling emotionally? Good? Okay, now I can go worship God.  That's not how it works.  It is an ongoing process and some days I don't feel as if I can sufficiently worship God in a chapel the way I can on a treadmill.

An organized church service does not always feel like appropriate worship for me.  Sometimes disciplining myself to run nine miles feels more appropriate because I can focus on JUST Him, something I find hard to do when I am in chapel.

I understand that it is unconventional. I don't always worship in a chapel. I'm not always wearing dress shoes. But I worship God in the ways that feel appropriate and it doesn't feel right for other people to judge me for it. After all, it's my salvation and my relationship with God that is at risk not theirs, right?

Mission Trip

You might be thinking, “Sarah is going on a mission trip?” That’s a completely fair thought. I keep asking myself that too (except in the first person, not the third person). Seminary is really intense right now and this is not a good time to go on a mission trip. But I’m not sure if there is ever a “good time” to go on a mission trip. 

Next summer I will have Clinical Pastoral Education. 

Then another full year of school. 

The summer after that, I will hopefully be preparing for a move to my internship site. 

Then internship. 

Then school. 

My first call. 

Life. 

I'm not sure if there is ever a "good time" to go on a mission trip- especially as a full-time graduate student. 

And I could probably come up with a list of reasons why I shouldn’t go, but I keep coming back to the one reason why I should – God loves people.

I’ve been trying to live through love in the life I currently have. It’s easy to pray for far off places and far off people, but loving who you live and work with is a challenge. I’ve been trying to see my life as a mission field, not just this trip. And it has been cool to see the way God has used this new approach to everything from the way I work with my classmates to the way I treat people in traffic. But now, it’s time to take the things I’ve learned to a new longitude and latitude.

I’m going to Honduras for ten days. We are going to be doing a a building project and working in a medical clinic. But we are also going to hang out with children, learn about the culture, and be loved by people who have absolutely no reason to love us.  There will be a community built and love stared that is only possible through the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

Going wasn’t a hard decision. When it comes down to it, Jesus laid out a pretty simple plan for us, didn’t He? Love God and love others. Nope, deciding to go was easy.  Also, the last time I tried resisting what God wanted me to do, I ended up doing it anyway (hence my being in seminary in the first place). Paying for it, however, is a real challenge.

To be honest with you, I just don’t have $2,000 laying around my dorm room with me while I’m eating baked Tostitos chips and watching Glee. So, instead of selling my plasma 43 times, I decided to send letters to people I don’t usually write and ask for something I don’t usually ask for: money. 

I’d love if you could financially support me on this mission trip. A little, a lot, anything would be great. You can stay updated on my progress and trip here on my blog.

I completely understand if you cannot support me financially, but if you could pray about this trip, that would be awesome. There will be a whole host of obstacles that pop up and entangle themselves around our ankles as we prepare to go love the people of Honduras. And knowing that you are praying would mean a lot to us.

Thank you for reading this rambling post. And I hope to hear from you soon.

Why are people poor?

I think many of you probably know that my most recent and engaging call has been pushing me (maybe not away from parish ministry but) toward mission work in a Spanish-speaking country.

So when I heard that I have the opportunity to go to Honduras this January with some really amazing classmates, I jumped on the chance like a slightly crazy and desperate girl.

In preparation for my mission trip to Honduras, I will be writing about some missional things.  This first post is how I responded to our application question.  It got me thinking about my own identity in Christ and whether or not I am really living into that.  

Why are people poor? What role should the Church have, if any in responding to poverty?

People are poor because we are a broken humanity.  People are inherently self-centered and concerned with having enough and, in the Northern Hemisphere, an abundance of resources.  We live in a Western society that shouts, “more!” in every commercial, store front, and magazine.  Capitalism buys into the excessive culture and perpetuates it until it is out of control.  Westernized countries own the most wealth in the world because of a society that is disconnected from the needs of the entire world.  As long as broken, selfish people are in charge of distributing resources, there will always be people who do not have enough.  

The Church is all about identity.  If, as missionaries, Christians are able to confuse the identities of people in other nations as well as our own nations, to the point of only considering ourselves Christian, the first step to end poverty will be accomplished.  This is not an easy task.  Changing the core identities of people who have been told for hundred of years that they are American, European, or African is not something that will be accomplished overnight.  

Responding to poverty is not about charity from Westernized countries.  It starts with a change in identity, continues with education, and is carried out with love that transcends borders and ethnicities.  The Church must provide an alternative to wasteful selfish consumerism, and thus far, we have been pretty unsuccessful at providing an example for Christians and nonChristians.  

Let me know how you would respond to this question. Why are people poor?  What, as Christians, are we called to do about it?  How can we practically live that out in our lives today?  

So I started running...

There was a time in my life when I was semi-decently athletic. I used to love going out and running with my dad. We both liked to run slow and far to really absorb all of the scenery around our countryside Virginia house.

Unfortunately, this time in my life only lasted until about 8th grade. So right when I actually needed the exercise and stress relief, I wasn't getting it. I became a theater nerd pretty quickly and didn't think athletics could compete with that. 

This started a fun joke about how I never work out and if you see me in a gym it is probably because someone is paying me. It was true. I went from loving running (no other activity really sparked my interest), to doing absolutely nothing at all. 

College wasn't any different- I think I went to the really beautifully amazing gym twice (and once to buy a smoothie) and I went to the less beautiful north campus gym probably a half a dozen times. Somehow (thank you, divine intervention) I managed to keep off the "freshman fifteen." But I never started running again.

Around April of this year I was told some pretty traumatic news (at least as far as my relatively unicorns and rainbows life went). And I really didn't know how to handle it. Most of my kairos moments have been pretty wonderful. At least they have turned out to be blessings (like coming to seminary). I didn't know what to do with a completely negative, awful kairos moment. I literally wanted to run away from it. So I did. I started running again. It was the only way I knew how to completely focus my mind on something else. It was, somehow, a form of prayer as much as it was a form of exercise.

And I haven't stopped. As a matter of fact, it is now one of the only things that keeps my head from toppling off and rolling around my dorm room floor here at seminary. It is really difficult for me to get through the week without taking time out of each day to go for a run. It is stress relief in an amazing way and functions as a time to relax (the irony) and spend time with myself. 

But it is also a lesson in discipline with which I thought I was pretty okay. Until I signed up a half marathon and started training for that behemoth. My legs haven't been sore, I haven't hyperventilated from running to fast or too long, I'm not miserable. But still, nothing in my brain is telling me that I want to do a half marathon or that I'm even capable of doing a half marathon. I know that I just have to get through the mentality of it. Everything in my heart thinks this is going to be the best experience in the world. And who am I to deny what God has placed in my heart? 

I'm not going to run a half marathon by myself. I'm not even going to train for a half marathon by myself. I know that I wouldn't have even made it this far if it weren't for God putting the Spirit within me and giving me that will power.

Today marks my fifth week of training and all I can think about is how excited I am about the six mile run that will end my week.  I've never run six miles before. I've never even thought about running six miles before. Who am I?

Looking back to April, I know God was working in that kairos moment and I didn't even realize it. I needed a way to cope with stress that was healthy and didn't involve yelling or eating my weight in chocolate. And God was pretty smart to know that I wasn't just going to go run on my own. I needed something to make me hit that bottom and realize my life needed a change. He's pretty good at that most days.

In Between Moments

One of the questions I sometimes try to reflect on in my own life is, "Where am I experiencing God the most right now?"

The answer to that has changed a lot throughout my life. Obviously I can "find" God in any situation or circumstance if I "look" for Him.  But there have been moments when I wasn't even seeking Him consciously and He has just revealed Himself and made me feel His presence. Moments when I don't find Him, but He finds me. These moments rock my socks off.

So with the knowledge that I can't really conjure God's presence on my own, I look back and try to find a pattern of where I have felt His presence most in the past.

At one point in high school, God came close to me when I was in my backyard walking through the woods.
During college it was mostly when I was spending time with the youth group and I regularly watched God work through them.
Last spring it was at Jacob's Porch when I felt loved by people who had no reason to love me.
This summer it was when I ran in the afternoons as the sun was going down.

I'm feeling a change in things again.

In seminary we worship a lot. I love it. It keeps us centered on why we are here and what God is trying to tell us. We worship four days a week in the chapel at 11:30am. Most days we also have compline (nighttime worship) at 9pm. Almost all of our professors have some sort of devotional or prayer before they start class. Most of us also have some sort of personal devotional or ritual that we perform during the day. We also tend to go to church on Sunday mornings.

We worship a lot. And I love it.

But surprisingly, this isn't where I have been feeling God the most. Even in compline- which is absolutely gorgeous and exactly what I love about a worship service- I don't feel God as much as I feel Him elsewhere at seminary.

God has been finding me in the "in between" moments.

He has been finding me in the mundane conversations with my mom that turn into beautiful affirmations.
He has been finding me sitting on the floor of the old chapel sharing details about my life that I had no intention of sharing with anyone.
He has been finding me in the middle of the prayer labyrinth, not when I'm praying, but when I'm wrestling with theology alongside a friend.
He has been finding me lamenting in the hallway of my dorm while I realize that I am not alone in my struggles.
He has been finding me during midnight conversations with people I've only known for a few weeks.
He has been finding me while listening to music (not hymns, not Christian rock- just really good music) that has been shared with me.
He has been finding me every time a little girl yells my name from across a room, "Saaarwahh!"
He has been finding me in moments when I have stopped doing homework because someone has asked about Jesus and what it is like to be a seminarian.

He has been finding me in every way that I would not expect.

Probably because He's God and that's just kind of what He does- He likes to completely shatter our expectations. But it feels so big and so important. Those "in between" moments are so amazing to me. I think a lot of the time He waits until we aren't expecting it or not seeking Him and then He steps in and says, "Here I am."

Lord, as I am actively searching for You throughout the next week, month, and year, I pray that You continue to reveal Yourself to me in those "in between" moments that feel so divine. I pray that other people experience Your presence and Your love in whatever ways speak to him or her. Thank You for this community and the people who continually support this community. Thank You for Your grace and Your mercy through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen. 

Ιδου!

I've heard a lot of really funny things since I have been on campus:

"It's no wonder pastors seem to be alcoholics. It must start with summer Greek."

"Did you know that clergy have the highest suicide rate of any other vocation? That doesn't surprise me anymore..." (That is actually not accurate according to the data I have found- doctors are most likely to commit suicide.) 

"We are at the point where we can't even speak English correctly anymore... Was that a real sentence?"

"I don't even know what it is like to not think about Greek. A week ago I never thought about Greek. Now it's my life and I don't know what to do about it."

Greek was rough on all of us. 

If you are just catching up with me, I was in an intensive ten-day Greek class. Basically they crammed 117 hours of a whole semester into ten days because they thought it would be funny. 

Greek is a very foreign language. First you have to learn a whole different alphabet from English. Then you have to put those letters together and memorize those combinations into some sort of vocabulary word. Then you completely change the vocabulary word into something that looks nothing like you first learned it and you are supposed to know the case/gender/number/voice/mood for everything. 

No thanks. 

It has pretty much been more work than I did in all of my undergrad in every class combined. And this class is ten days long. Graduate school is real life hard. 

But, as we learn through reading the Bible (in whatever language), the dead end is not actually the end. When we think everything is going wrong and nothing good could ever come out of this, God surprises us. 

SHAZAM! (ιδου!) RESURRECTION!

Greek was heinous. I barely slept and mostly only thought about Greek. But God did something in that time that was so profound and moving that I would do it all over again if I needed to. He brought a miracle out of the mess.

In my first two and a half weeks of seminary, I met more amazing people than I could have ever imagined congregated in one area. I have worshiped more fervently than I have ever thought possible. And I have prayed aloud more frequently than I have ever wanted.

I didn't think I needed anything to convince we that I was in the right place, doing the right thing. But from the minute I went to Pilgrim with Ronnie at 8am for the matins service on Sunday morning, I knew God was up to something. I needed this community and I needed this place in my life and I didn't even realize it. (Thanks, God.)

I can already tell that these (unlike undergrad or high school) are going to be some of the best years of my life. The people are so beautiful here. And it's not only the people here- I have been getting overwhelming support from both of my home churches and my family and friends. I am spoiled and I don't deserve it. It restores what I have always wanted to believe about humanity... God is within us and living among us today.

I am falling in love with Jesus over and over again every single time I meet someone new. And it brings so much joy to my heart. God brought a miracle out of the mess. 

Ruin me for the ordinary

This is the prayer I had taped to my rearview mirror for several months this past year. When it finally flew off while my windows were down, I thought maybe it was a sign that I needed to find a new prayer.

What I didn't realize until later was that this prayer, clearly visible to anyone riding in my car and very obnoxious to anyone who drives it, was pushing me toward constant prayer. I would get in my car, read it, and truly mean it every single day. I wanted God to ruin me. I didn't want to be comfortable anymore. I wanted my heart to be broken.

Well, if you know anything about my life this past year, God has done just that. I was uncomfortable, broken, and completely ruined.

But it was so good.

Now that I am starting seminary I am afraid that it is exactly where I am supposed to be. Why should I be afraid of that? Because I don't want to be comfortable. I need to be able to challenge myself. They won't let me take additional classes (yet) and I am afraid that I am going to have a very light schedule for my first semester.

So I have promised myself that if I am bored or even if I am slightly comfortable, I am going to push myself into uncomfortable and ruining situations.

I want my heart to be broken at injustice and cruelty, poverty and prejudice. I want my heart to break for the things that break God's heart. I know what that means. I know it means I am going to hurt. A lot. And I know that ruining me for the ordinary means that I will never be okay with myself in comfortable situations. I will never want an ordinary life. I know that is going to be challenging. But I am so desperate for Jesus that it doesn't matter anymore.

God isn't supposed to be comfortable to be around. My friend has a theory that, as a fallen humanity, we are not able to be naturally close to God. God is so incredibly good compared to us that we can't even fathom it.  That is why when we do things to be closer to God, whether it is turning the other cheek, forgiving over and over again, meditating, or loving people who we don't feel deserve our love- we are uncomfortable.  It doesn't feel good most of the time. Love hurts. Vulnerability hurts. But that is what brings us closer to God.

I need to keep pushing myself toward God. I don't know what that means yet, but I have a feeling that just knowing that it needs to happen is a step in the right direction.

The Way Things Change

I haven't written very much this month. I haven't really missed it and that makes me sad. I have been working hard learning Greek. I only have a few more days until I start class. I have also been packing to move. And all this week people have been trying to say "see you later" when they are really saying "goodbye." It is sad and stressful.

Because this really is the end of part of my life. I am entering a new part, a different part. I don't have anything to truly connect me to this place anymore. I have friends here, but within the next year they will probably be leaving and doing their own next adventures. Ronnie will be moving to South Carolina with me in about four months. Then we will have a new life together.

"The embrace can only be compared with music and with prayer."  -Marcus Aurelius

So in honor of these memories, these goodbyes, and embraces, and dreams, here's some songs I adore. They have been getting me through the past few weeks. I don't think music has to be about Christ to claim that it is worship. I think there is a lot of music that has a purity about it and that is what makes it holy. The Bible doesn't say "there's a time to sing gospel music," it just says there's a time to sing. This is how I have been worshipping God lately...

"Committed monogamous relationship."

I'm going to go and be "one of those people." You know, the kind of person that spouts a bunch of "problems with the Church" and expects someone else to go solve them.

Okay, so you know me a little bit better than that. I might go spouting, but it is unlikely that I won't at least give you a solution or even try to solve it myself. So here it goes.

I have two problems with the Church. When I say "the Church," I mean either the ELCA as a whole or specifically the churches/congregations I have encountered in my (short) life. Also, these two problems are almost entirely unrelated. So there's that. I'll throw one out today and I'll leave the other one for another day.

The first one applies to the entire ELCA's policy on homosexual pastors, deacons, etc.

I know, you freaked out a little bit right? Chill. In the ELCA, they are trying really hard to be progressive and include as many people as possible into ministry (most likely because the Church is dying, but I'd like to think it is for more noble reasons). One of the policies for the "Visions and Expectations" of clergymen and women is that homosexuals are able to live together and are recognized as a family is they are in a committed monogamous relationship. I paraphrased the first part but "committed monogamous relationship" is a quote. Cool! Yay! Human rights!

Heterosexual couples are not to live with one another unless they are married.

Married.

Wait a second- why did the wording change? Why can't heterosexual couples be in "committed monogamous relationships" and live together? Well, you might think, because heterosexual couples are actually ABLE to be married, so they should  be in order to live with each other. But is this always the case? And in states were homosexual unions are legal, does the rule change? I'll give you a few examples:

My boyfriend and I are much too young (in our eyes) to be married at this point. Also, we have zero amounts of money to hold a wedding. Yet, when we move to South Carolina and I start seminary, we are unable to live in the family apartments. I have to live in a dorm and he will find a house or apartment to live in by himself. We will spend twice as much on housing and I will go into twice as much debt because we are not married. Even if we were engaged, we would not be permitted to live together, even though we have been in a "committed monogamous relationship" for four years.

A man and woman are so much in love and have committed to one another in their own way. They are unable to be married because the woman is a widow and if she remarries, her son with not be able to claim the money from his father's death. They are depending on that money for the son to go to college. The man and woman have been in a "committed monogamous relationship" for eight years. They would not be permitted to live together.

I understand what the ELCA is trying to do and I am proud of them for it. However, while they are inclusive to homosexuals, they must also realize that they are behind the times in other aspects of "untraditional marriage and relationships."

Beside the point that "it's not fair," which I understand is a pretty lame argument on any front, I don't think Jesus would have cared. Honestly. If we can go to sleep and night telling ourselves that love is love and what happens behind the closed doors of homosexuals is none of society's business, then why can't we say the same for heterosexuals? I'm a fan of tradition. But sometimes tradition just isn't how things work out. Sometimes you have to be a little progressive. After all, that's pretty much what Jesus preached the entire time He was on this earth. If we aren't moving forward we are moving back.

I am a twenty-one year old heterosexual female. I am in a committed monogamous relationship, and I should be allowed to live with my partner without being married. Darn it.

Labels: I'm not done talking.

When I was younger (let's say about 12 and 13 years old), I met my best friend. I was wearing red pants on the first day of school and it was a match made in heaven. What most people didn't know was that I was wearing red pants because I had posed in front of the giant 4x8 foot Bush-Cheney 2004 sign in my parents' front yard. But she could tell I was political. More than that, she knew I was on her side- a conservative.

I remained political throughout junior high school. I got into political arguments on a regular basis. I was as conservative as they come. I was adorned with elephants and wore red all the time to show my pride.

Why was I conservative? A lot of people would probably say it is because my parents were. That's where we get it to begin with, right? But I think my parents ended up being more political because of me, not the other way around.

I was a Republican because my dad was in the military and a lot of people I cared about were in the military and I knew that the conservatives in office were looking out for them better than the liberals. That was the basis for my political affiliation.

I grew up thinking you could only be in one category. You had to be a part of "us" or "them."  I think a lot of people grew up with that same stereotype. You had to be liberal or conservative. You had to be a boy or a girl. You had to be an athlete or a theater geek.

It wasn't until my junior year of high school that I figured out I had been lied to. Surprise: you didn't have to be in just one group. You are allowed to agree with some views and disagree with others. In fact, I learned, most people are just like that- not many Republicans agree with every single agenda item on the Republican Party platform. And that goes for almost every other group affiliation as well.

I'm allowed to be a Lutheran without agreeing with every single thing Lutheran doctrine states. I'm allowed to be a conservative liberal. Even though 7th grade me would have scoffed at that.

I'm allowed to believe that justice is the goal of the government but without invading other people's rights in the process of achieving it.

I'm allowed to believe that the Church has some things wrong. I'm allowed to believe that right wing Republicans have a lot of things wrong. But I can also believe that Democrats have some things wrong as well.

It is hard coming back to Virginia where most people are Republican- really Republican- and trying to explain the ways in which I have changed. I have even had people ask me, "you're still a good young Republican, right?"

I don't want to be put in the group with Republicans. Not because I don't like them, but because I don't like labels. Think of what kind of other labels people might put on me if I say I'm Republican-

Homophobic
Gun-slinger
War monger
Elitist
Unsympathetic to the poor
Country hick

And what kind of stereotypes come up if I say I'm liberal?

Hippie
Socialist
Gay (I've heard it)
Uneducated
Tree hugger
Pussyfoot (heard that too)

So I say I'm a conservative liberal. What can people say to that? Besides that I'm confused. And I'm okay with that. Don't put labels on me.

I'm allowed to believe in traditional marriage and fight for gay rights.
I'm allowed to call myself a Christian and believe that sometimes abortions are okay.
I'm allowed to feed the homeless and feel that the welfare system needs an overhaul.
I'm allowed to live in a country with a representative democracy and wish I was living in the Kingdom of God instead.

Think about it: we aren't even allowed to label ourselves or other people. Who labeled the can of soup you eat? The people who created it. Who labels the shoes you wear? The creator of the shoes. Who labels the computer you're reading from? The people who made the computer.

So who gets to label you? Only God. And His labels are perfect:

You are precious: Isaiah 43:4
You are one of a kind: Psalm 139:14
You are favored: Psalm 5:12
You are blessed: Deuteronomy 28:1-14
You are loved: John 3:16

Hippies, Politics, & Rainbows - Oh My!

Dear Jesus, thank You for bringing people into our lives to change our minds. Thank You for bringing people into our lives to challenge our beliefs. Thank You for bringing change to a nation that has stood blind to oppression for so many years. Lord, please continue Your work. And please be with the people who wish to reverse the work of Your Holy Spirit. We pray for them now, Lord, that you may soften their hearts and show them love. And be with the people who have not yet seen the fruits of your work. Let me feel Your comforting embrace and know that You are with them. Amen

_________________________________________________

My general rule in politics is this: if it is not infringing upon my rights as an individual or business-- if it is giving more rights and freedoms to more people without infringing on mine, yippee!--, and as long as it is not threatening my safety or the safety of my fellow citizens of the world, I'm pretty okay with it. There's gray area of course. But in general, that's how I figure out if I am for or against an issue.

It seems a little bit hippie (so I've heard), but it is my own model. I can be hippie if I want.

So here is my reaction to the Supreme Court decision that homosexuals can marry in California:

Hooray! I'm so excited for people who are being granted more freedoms!
Hooray! States rights!

But, you protest, I am a Christian. How could I believe that gay marriage is okay? Nay, I say, I am a Jesus lover and follower of Christ, not a Christian (but that is neither here nor there). Well... I believe that love comes from God. And if God made it possible for two same-sex people to love one another so much that they want to get married, go for it.

Here's what I'm against:
Forcing heterosexual people to marry homosexuals. They're not doing that, right?
Forcing homosexuals to marry one another. They're not doing that, right?
Forcing heterosexuals to marry one another. They're not doing that, right?
Restricting the rights of heterosexuals to marry the person they love. They're not doing that, right?
Restricting the rights of homosexuals to marry the person they love. They're just starting to wrap their heads around that!

What is it hurting? Yeah yeah we, as a nation, are founded on Christian principles yadda yadda.

The same men who founded this country on Christian principles also owned slaves. Wanna go back to that?
The same men who founded this country on Christian principles also had children with those slaves. I'm pretty sure adultery is a sin.

Where do we draw the line? You want Christian principles back in this country? Let's stone women again. Let's outlaw anything that is an abomination in God's eyes.

Adultery = outlawed
Masturbation = outlawed
Women on their period in public = outlawed
Sex before marriage = outlawed
Using God's name in vain = outlawed
Disrespecting your parents = outlawed

What good would it do anyway? This nation used to outlaw black people from drinking at certain water fountains. Did that stop them from being black? This used to restrict Native Americans to a certain piece of land. Did that stop them from being Native Americans? We can outlaw gay marriage, but it will not stop people from being homosexual.

I know people who would change if they could. They have hurt enough. But it is not a decision, it is not a behavior- they were born homosexuals. It cannot be cured and it cannot be outlawed. If we can ease the pain for people who have been outcast and squash the stigma that homosexuality is some sort of disease or "issue" we need to fix, let's do it. Human beings should not suffer.

Here's my (other) issue with Christians:

We (heterosexual Christians) are not affected in ANY way by homosexuals being able to marry one another.

We are, however, being watched very closely for our reactions to changes like this. If Christians continue to be sticks in the mud about progress and change, we will die out faster than you can say a Hail Mary.

What good does it do for our Church to look at sinners and say, "God hates you for what you are doing and I do too?"

Our generation should be looking for new ways to show the same people- homosexuals, heterosexuals, Native Americans, foreign immigrants, the oppressed, the victimized- that God loves them no matter what. We are all sinners. No one is exempt from God's judgement. We have all been bought by the Blood of Christ Jesus.

I just think a lot of people would live happier lives if they were more concerned with loving their neighbor than hating anyone who sins. But then again, I'm probably just a hippie.

Growing Pains

I don't know if any of my friends have noticed it, but the past year has been a trying one for me. I have had to grow up quickly and sometimes unwillingly.  I've had to deal with heartache, loss, and a lot of changes that I'm not sure I was ready for. To top it all off, God decided I was going to start a whole other roller coaster called seminary. As if I needed more reasons to be emotional and moody.

I'm having some issues (try not to laugh too hard) with growing up.

A lot of people go through this phase when they are in high school. They want independence but safety.  They want their own car to go wherever they want but they want mom and dad to pay for it and fix it if it breaks. They want to do what they want when they want, just as long their parents keep paying for their recreations.

I didn't really go through that phase too hard in high school.  Even when I was a senior getting ready to leave my parents' house, I wasn't going crazy with rebellion. I am thankful that my parents never drowned my brother and I with house rules and regulations. We have pretty awesome parents.

I had some fun in college, but I knew I had about two or three years to play around until I got really serious about life. My parents paid for some things, but I was working and school was all paid for by scholarships and loans. I didn't have any huge responsibilities.

Well, I have been out of school for a year now and I am just now starting to figure out what it means to be an adult. And, um, I don't like it.

I am having to say goodbye to my best friends on a pretty regular basis. And I'm tired of it. I am surrounded by people getting engaged and married and trying not be jealous. I see people going on mission trips while I barely have money to pay my car insurance and it sucks. I am nervous about the future because I don't know exactly where God is taking me or how I am going to get there. I miss my parents and my brother and the rest of my family. I miss my churches in Ohio. And I'm just tired of it all.

It's times like this when I really wish the Gospels included years 10 through 30 of Jesus' life. What kind of issues did He deal with? He experienced all of our want for sin, right? Was He tempted to get drunk with His best friends? Did He have to learn how to get a job and pay the bills? Was He the best man at any of His friends' weddings? Did He ever fight with His parents? Did He have to do His own laundry?

Some of my favorite parts of the New Testament are when Jesus seems really human. He cries. He is tempted by the devil (and resists). He mourns the loss of His friends. He sleeps.

I wish I knew something more, though. Am I asking for too much? Probably. But I wish I knew how Jesus dealt with getting older and leaving His parents and His friends. Was He just content because He knew traveling and preaching was His destiny? Did He have divine comfort because of the God part of Him? He would be a homeless, poor traveler for His entire life. Was He nervous?

I want to know because if I knew Jesus was nervous and went through the same things that I am dealing with now, I might not feel so sorry for myself. I might be able to look to stories about Our Savior and how He said goodbye to His mother before He went out to preach. Or how He fought with His earthly father Joseph or His little brother James.

Give me 21 year old Jesus and all of his adolescent craziness. Then maybe my life won't feel like it is in shambles.

This I (sort of) Believe

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the difference between what we want to believe and what we actually do believe.

And it has been tearing me apart.


I want to believe a lot of things:

I want to believe that humanity is good at heart.
I want to believe that people who do cruel things are the exception, not the rule.
I want to believe that the government is going to protect our rights.
I want to believe that the God of today is more like the God of the New Testament and less like the God of the Old Testament.
I want to believe that when bad things happen it is not always because God is teaching us a lesson.
I want to believe that the financial insecurity of being a pastor will not interfere with my plans for a family and a future.
I want to believe that I can be without luxuries and not complain.
I want to believe that there are many more good people than hurtful people in the world.

I want to believe these things. I'm not sure I'm quite there yet. Social media and mainstream media hurts my beliefs in many ways. The news likes to reports all of the "oh no's" of the world, not the "oh yeses!"  I think it hurts a lot of people's faith, not just mine. It is hard being an upbeat Christian when much of the world around you seems to be saying that everything is going wrong and people are cruel.

With school shootings, kidnapping, and genocide, it is really hard to look at humanity and believe that it is really a nice group with which to be associated. I don't want to be a part of this fallen world, but the reality is that I am. And as a part of it, I am constantly searching for that small bit of hope in a world that is telling me there is none. I think many people in the older generation don't believe the children and grandchildren they raised can be joyful in a world of despair. I think it is hard for everyone in every generation. But I think our generation is more willing to look for what gives us hope. We won't take "despair" for an answer.

On this day, when I learned that one of my childhood best friends committed suicide... I'm looking for hope. I'm looking for something to cling to. I'm looking for joy in the midst of sorrow.

Jesus is my hope.

Jesus is what turns my "I want to believe" into "I really do believe" on a daily basis. My faith is small and still growing, so my hope is not always as well-developed as I would like it to be. But it is there. Jesus is the reason my psychological assessment reads, "she often views the world through rose-colored glasses." Jesus is my rose-colored glasses.

I DO believe that God has a plan for my life and for the lives of everyone in this world.
I DO believe that I can learn from the mistakes that I have made as well as the mistakes of others.
I DO believe that although we are fallen, God has given us new hope in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I DO believe that my gifts and my call has led me to seminary this fall, despite and because of everything that this life has put me through.
I DO believe that I am saved.
I DO believe that everyone in the entire world is saved.

That is what I cling to. Don't we deserve a little hope in a world that seems to be falling apart around us? Don't we deserve to be called "beloved?"

Boxes

I am a conservative.

I am a liberal. 

I am a tree hugger. 

I am an army brat. 

I am a hippie. 

I am a lover. 

I am a hater. 

I am a child. 

I am an adult. 

I am a sister 

I am a daughter. 

I am a prude. 

I am a slut. 

I am a princess. 

I am a country girl. 

I am a feminist. 

I am old fashioned. 

I am new-age. 

I am a Lutheran. 

I am nondenominational. 

I am a book worm. 

I am a movie lover. 

I am a photographer. 

I am a student. 

I am a teacher. 

I am young. 

I am old. 

I am American. 

I am a citizen of the world. 

I am a fighter. 

I am a victim. 

I am classy. 

I am trashy. 

I am modern. 

I am antiquated. 

None of these labels are me in my entirety. 

All of my labels that I put on myself come with explanations because I can't fit in the box of everyone else's expectations.

I am not the labels I put on myself. 

I am not the labels other people put on me. 

I have only one label that does not require an explanation: 

I am a child of God.

I am more than what the world sees in me. I am even more than what I see in myself.

The only person that knows everything about me and can read all of my thoughts and feelings- the only one who knows everything that has, is, and will happen. Is my God. Why do I keep imagining that if I can just fit into one of these boxes perfectly then I will be happy?

I know that I won't be. God didn't make me like that. God didn't make you like that. He didn't want cookie-cutter beautiful little creations as the world would like to see "beautiful."

He made each of us unique. He made each of us with flaws and scars and birthmarks and a history.

We are told that we are made in God's image. Think about that. What if we tried to fit God into a box. It's not easy- I've tried. He's mean, cruel, forgiving, loving, powerful, let willing to give us free will.

We can't put God in a box. So we have no business trying to put ourselves or each other in boxes. 

Women of Valor

I read A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans few months ago and completely fell in love with it. I never got around to writing a blog post about it because I finished it when I was in the middle of moving into my new place and I was spending an incredible amount of time with my boyfriend who is no longer long distance (for the next two months at least).

So a few days ago I decided I needed to buckle down and write something. I did what I almost always do before writing: I brainstormed. Then when nothing came up (I lose inspiration unbelievably quickly), I decided to Google Image "women of valor," one of Rachel's big themes in her book. 

I must say I was really disappointed by what Google turned up:

Here are two beautiful women (of today's standards) in medieval clothing, doing things that men usually do (playing with bows and arrows and knighting a man).  What?

Why do "women of valor" have to be "women who do what men do?"  Why can't women of valor be women who do housework exceptionally well (my mother) or women who pray relentlessly for people (my grandmother) or women who cook amazing meals for their families on a regular basis (my future sister-in-law) or women who live every day broken hearted by the world and wishing that the Kingdom of God was now (my best friend)?  

I'm not necessarily one for "feminism," at least not the way it seems to be used today. I'm a fan of men holding the door open for me and pulling out my chair. In a lot of ways, this idea of "biblical womanhood" sounded really nice to me. Yeah, maybe I don't want to make my own clothes, but I don't really have too much of a problem with cooking for my family every night or taking care of the finances.  

But I am a little put off by feminists who believe that to be a strong, independent woman you must do all the things men do and receive as much or more recognition for it. Why can't I be a strong woman who decided to raise a family and stay at home for the first twenty years of marriage instead of becoming a lawyer or a doctor? Doesn't it take just as much hutzpah to raise a few kids?

I don't believe in the feminist movement that is out to prove that women are the same as men. 

We aren't. Intellectually, motivationally, sexually, emotionally- we are not the same creatures.  God made us different. God made woman the man's helpmate. Meaning men rely on us as much as we rely on them. We cannot function or reproduce by ourselves. And we are not the same.

I'm not saying that men and women should not have equal opportunities in employment and education. But please don't try to tell me that I am a better woman of valor than my mother just because she decided to stay at home to raise two kids and I have a degree and I'm going into a "man's profession."  Just don't. 

In fact, most of the women of valor in my life are just like my mother- women who have sacrificed and lived in such a way to give more to their children and their husbands than they give to themselves. They have lived Christ-like lives with pain and sacrifice and love beyond measure. And nothing, in my opinion, seems more valorous than that.

"Woman of valor" in Hebrew is translated eschet chayil. 

With that being said, women who find their calling in being teachers: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being mothers: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being soldiers: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being followers of Christ: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being promoters of justice: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being wives: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being single and strong: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being single and broken: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves overcoming sickness of the heart, brain, or body: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves living exactly how they wish to live: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being brave despite the world: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being brave because of the world: eschet chayil!

Women who are going to grad school: eschet chayil!

Women who are bosses: eschet chayil!

Women who are their own bosses: eschet chayil!

Women who have suffered and still live to tell the story: eschet chayil! 

Women whose stories we continue to tell: eschet chayil!

Women whose stories we have forgotten: eschet chayil!

Women whose only Master is the Lord: eschet chayil!

Praying

There are a lot of things I'm not good at. Like playing basketball. And math. And remembering dates. 

And praying aloud.

How do you pray? (Seriously, I want to know...)

Are you one to say everything out loud so fast that you barely remember what you said?
Do you raise your hands above your head and speak slowly, putting thought into every word?
Some people think it in their minds and in their hearts, do you?

I don't think there is a right way to pray. God hears us always, no matter what we say or do not say. 

I am not that great at praying aloud in front of people. Or even just Ronnie. My words don't make sense and usually I end up babbling about all the atrocities that break my heart in the world. That's fine and great, but I am going to be a pastor, and as such, I am going to be praying in front of people a lot. And probably from the seat of my pants. Wippee.  

I am trying to be better about praying aloud, but until then I will continue my prayers in my journal where I can go back and reflect on them in the future. 

I have a thing for the written word as opposed to the spoken word sometime. 

Therefore, for part of our Lenten sacrifice, Ronnie and I have been going through the Book of Psalms. I love it because of its prayers and beautiful imagery. 

So today I started writing out some of my favorite verses and it sort of developed into two prayers that I fell in love with. 

I want to share them with you because a) I'm proud of them (you know, because I can brag about verses in the Bible) and b) I think a lot of people have trouble with prayers and I'm hoping that maybe these prayers will help someone talk to God a little more comfortably. 

Morning Prayer

Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered- how fleeting my life is (39:4). God has made a home in the heavens for the sun. It bursts forth like a radiant bridegroom after his wedding. It rejoices like a great athlete eager to run the race (19:5). Thank you for letting the sun rise on me again, Lord. Show me the right path. O Lord; point out the road for me to follow. Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you (25:4,5). Listen to my voice in the morning, Lord. Each morning I bring my requests to you and wait expectantly (5:3). 

Evening Prayer

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer (19:14). I am praying to you because I know you will answer, O God. Bend down and listen as I pray (17:6). Hear me as I pray O Lord. Be merciful and answer me (27:7)! How can I know all the sins lurking in my heart? Cleanse me from these hidden faults (19:12). No wonder my heart is glad, and I rejoice. My body rests in safety (16:9). In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe (4:8). 

I hope these help someone talk to God. That's what the Psalms are for anyway, right? 

Lent: Take Two

Most people are pretty familiar with fasting, even if they don't practice it on a regular basis.

There are periods of time when Jewish people are supposed to fast (usually from sun up to sun down), Catholics like to fast from things like meat during Lent. Lutherans pretend they get to choose what to fast from during Lent.

The disciples mostly fasted during religious holidays and festivals (you know, because they were Jewish) and women fasted when they were in a time of mourning.

I don't really know if any other denominations or religious groups make use of fasting during certain periods, so I won't go making anything up.

Anyway, I was thinking about how Ronnie and I fasted for a few weeks more than Lent this past Spring (go us, right?) and how amazing it was to take superfluous things out of our lives and focus on prayer and meditating on the Bible.

Let me in on a little secret: I am happy. I'm doing pretty good right now. I can't really think of things to complain about besides the amount of gas I have to put in my car. I'm doing alright.

Do you know how much harder it is to talk to God when you don't have anything to complain about? It's sad. But it's true. I feel like I go to bed every night think, "well geez, I don't have anything to ask for. And today was pretty much the same as yesterday. So... yeah..."

So mix my really crappy prayers, neglecting to continue our Bible Study, needing to learn Greek, spending way too much money this month, and my Lutheran Guilt... and I've decided to fast for the month of June. 

Now please don't think I'm this pious nun or anything. I'm anything but. I never used fasting as a means to "reset my life on God's tracks" until I read some pretty fantastic books about women who used it in the same or similar ways.  One woman fasted with her husband during the entire time they were in the process of adopting their third and fourth child. Awesome. Another woman fasted (mostly for the book) and in celebration of Jewish holidays and traditions (even though she's Christian). That's pretty cool too.

So I'm fasting.

I'm still trying to figure out what to fast from... most of the time I think about what is hindering me at the time. What is keeping me from God? What do I need less of so that I can give God more?

I'm thinking it's going to be something like this:

1. Absolutely no coffee.
2. No spending money except on gas.
3. No browsing Pinterest.

I also try to make myself DO things instead of just restricting myself from things:

4. Continue Bible Study on Psalms with Ronnie.
5. Start Bible Study on Fruits of the Spirit with Alex.
6. Continue working on Greek translations.
7. Nurture my relationships.

Seven is a pretty holy number. I'll leave it there.

Although I know I'm not challenging myself as much as I should be, I think it will be a good change for the month. Hopefully it will get me back on track with all the things that are especially important in my life, namely God.

Maybe it will give me more motivation to write this month too. I've been particularly neglectful in that area of my life as well. 

An Ode a Friend (or two)

What if we met people that turned our worlds inside out and upside down when we needed it most?

What if people who completely shock your world continue to be a part of this ever changing piece of your life? Instead of just suddenly coming in and out of your life like lightening, what if they stay?

What if you continue to carry them with you throughout your life? Would they continue to change you or would you eventually grow accustomed to the changes and no longer feel their pull on your life?

I have this best friend. And I'm going to call her out because I'm that type of person.

Alex is the type of person you meet and you just can't help but tell her truth. All the time. Even if it gets you in trouble. She is someone I can be completely honest with and often times she shrugs her shoulders and says, "me too."  She is incredibly beautiful and she brings joy into people's lives before they even know what is going on.

She did that to me. And now I can't imagine my life without our late night talks about boys that turn into talks about faith and love and God and humanity and frailty and hurt.  Sometimes after we get off of a heavy subject, we step back and say, "woah! Where did that come from? That was weird. We should have recorded that."

We have dreams of leading a congregation together one day. Maybe not so far from now. I know that wherever I end up as a pastor, I will be employing her. She is one of the only people that is on the same (if not higher) level as me with organization and scheduling.  We would have the most efficient church in the world. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

But that's not the only reason I want her next to me in a congregation. She has a way of challenging me and questioning life that makes me want to be a better person. Don't get the wrong idea- I'm bragging about my best friend. I really wish I could keep all of her brilliance to myself but at the same time I wish I could share her with the entire world because people deserve joy. They deserve questions and challenges and hope. That's what Alex is to me. Alex is the embodiment of the idea that people aren't all bad. And that you don't have to be perfect to be really wonderful. And that God really has created people who love.

She has these brilliant moments that could make any theologian or preacher blush. (I fully plan on taking credit for them one day and sprinkling them around my sermons.)

One such remark was made when we were talking about how much love sucks- I mean hurts. 

"Love is how we touch God.  So we keep loving people and ourselves because it lets us touch Him.  But it hurts to touch holiness."

She'll deny it all day long, but she makes me a better person (besides our filthy language when we get together). She makes me love God more and lets me feel okay when I don't want to love God at all.

After my last blog post, Alex was the first one to tell me (almost immediately) that she loves me for me. No motives. No conditions. 

But she also told me that she's not the only one. There are people around me who love me because I am me. And I believe her. Weird. 

I have another friend who likes to challenge things. Although we haven't gotten into anything too deep, he's definitely on the same level with Alex and me. We question and poke and prod and we're generally unsatisfied with the answers found in text books or passed down for years. Tradition has its place but there's also room for growth and change. Someday we'll have a church. Someday God will be working through the three of us- more than He already is- and creating something new. 

I hope they continue to change me.  If I am able to keep them with me- physically, emotionally, distantly, directly- I want them to keep changing me in the ways that they did when they first shook up my life.  I want them to challenge me and push me toward something greater.

But I also want them to love me as boldly and fearlessly as they did at the very beginning. I never want that passion to dull.  That new friendship with the questions and discoveries- our favorite parts as a curious humanity.  I want all of that to continue with my best friends. I want them to be my coworkers and my Bible Study members and my Christmas dinner guests.

And they will be. Because God really likes threes. And He really likes messing up people's lives for good. 

Maybe I'll be Catholic

So this article about Pope Francis is getting quite a bit of press.

"Pope Francis Says Atheists Who Do Good Are Redeemed, Not Just Catholics"

Mostly posted by my Catholic friends, this article is all over Facebook. There seems to be a pretty stark contrast between people's reactions. They either really love the Pope's comments or they are freaking out.

Well, I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I'm not Catholic. So why am I commenting on anything the Catholic Pope says? Because Catholics are Christians and as my Christian brothers and sisters, I feel a compulsion to put my two cents into their business. Because their business is Christ's business. And pretty soon I'll be in that business too.

So my first issue is with the Huffington Post. Please do not call yourselves a legitimate piece of journalism. You make me sick to my stomach.

If you take the time to read the article, you will see that the headline of the article is a complete misquote.  Pope Francis says two things of consequence in his sermon and neither of them are "atheists who do good are redeemed, not just Catholics."

First and foremost, he is preaching about Mark 9:38-40 for those of you who want to look that up.

Here's what he says (I'll even use direct quotes):

"The Lord created us in His image and likeness, and we are the image of the Lord, and He does good and all of us have this commandment at heart: do good and do not do evil. All of us. 'But, Father, this is not Catholic! He cannot do good.' Yes, he can..."

Then he says later:

"The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! 'Father, the atheists?' Even the atheists! Everyone!"

So I'll sum it up:

1. Anyone can do good works. Even people who are not Catholic.
2. Atheists are saved by the death of Christ.

Don't combine those two.

So is Pope Francis really saying that everyone is saved by good works (which makes the Protestant in me cringe)?
Or is he saying that everyone is saved by the Grace of God, regardless of what you believe or do?

You can argue against me, but I think it is the latter. And by golly, that's something I can support!

The death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ redeems everyone. Period. Not everyone who does good works. Not everyone who believes in God or Christ. Everyone. Period. 

As you might know, "us Lutherans" believe that we are saved by the Grace of God through faith.

Well crap. Going into seminary, I'm probably not supposed to say that I believe this. I'm probably not supposed to say that this has been my personal belief for a few years now. Oops. Well, I'm not one to follow the rules, Southern so uh... nice to meet you?

If Jesus did not die for every single fallen human being, then it would not be considered salvation. If He only died for those with works, it is not a gift. We have to work for it. If He died only for those with faith, God is not forgiving enough to even have mercy on the best of people.  Jesus died for everyone: regardless of our beliefs or actions. He must have died for everyone or He died for no one.

I know, what about Mark 16:16?

[Jesus said,] "He who has believed and has been baptized shall be saved; but he who has disbelieved shall be condemned."

Well, right after that, He says that those who believe will cast out demons, speak in tongues, pick up serpents, and will not be poisoned.

Okay, I don't know about you, but I haven't been casting out any demons or picking up any serpents. So does that mean I don't believe? I haven't seen record of these feats since the first disciples went out to preach. So are we just doing it wrong?

Probably. Actually, let me change that to a resounding YES.

So what if I'm right? What if Pope Francis (if I'm not misquoting him as HuffPost did) is right? What if nothing NOTHING but the Grace of God and the death of Jesus Christ gives us eternal life? What is there to lose in that belief? Why do we recoil at that?

Is it because it takes away our purpose? Our goal of evangelism and saving souls? Would there be any point in a Church if everyone was completely and only saved by Grace?

We could spread the good news. We wouldn't have to save people. That's not really our purpose in life anyway, is it? We could let them know and help them understand that they have already been saved by Jesus' death. They could experience the joy that comes with knowing that we don't have to- we can't- do anything to be saved. We just are. Just because we breathe. Just because we are God's creatures.

What if everyone believed that they are saved by Grace? That they are so loved by God that He would sacrifice His only son to die so that we could live? No conditions.

What would that world look like?

Honesty.

Some people might call this airing my dirty laundry. The synod candidacy committee might call it "baring my scars." I kind of just want to call it honesty.

This isn't an attack. This isn't to make people feel sorry for me or make them feel guilty. You will know if I am writing about you, but that's not the point. This isn't about you. This is about my faith journey and the things that have torn me apart and the God that is piecing me back together.

Honestly, I don't really know what I believe.

I know what I am supposed to believe. And I know in what and in whom I am supposed to have faith. But you know what? I don't. And I don't know if that's okay. I don't think it is. But I'm tired of holding on to this and not being able to express it.

I was cheated on about a year ago. I had been dating the guy for over two years and I was madly in love with him. Spend the rest of our lives together, do anything for him, talk about him all the time, can't imagine a life with anyone else - madly and crazily in love with him.

And he cheated on me.

If you've ever been cheated on, you know what it does. Or you're still learning the effects of the heartbreak. I felt disgusting. I was convinced that I had done something to make him cheat on me. I wasn't good enough for him to love. I wasn't a good girlfriend. Or I was ugly. I was somehow a broken person that, if he couldn't love - someone so amazing and pure and perfect - then no one could love.

I believed that with every part of my broken, ugly, flawed body and mind.

So I threw myself at anything that would love me. Or at least want me in one way or another. I threw myself at guys, work, projects, charities, parties, alcohol. Anything that would numb the hurt or make me feel loved again.

But everyone wanted something in return. If I wanted to feel wanted, I had to give them something too- whether it was mutual want (which I was physically and emotionally incapable of), or work, or sex, or some other type of benefit. I knew that if I wanted to be wanted, I had to give something to someone.

As if that wasn't enough- feeling completely inadequate with who I was as a person- God put it in my heart to forgive him. Not only did I know I needed to forgive him, I knew I needed to give myself back to him. We had to start from the beginning and do this all over again. This broken trust thing, this crumpled piece of paper of a relationship. It hasn't been easy, but all three of us (God, me, and my boyfriend) are working really hard to get better and love greater.

In the midst of this work, about five weeks ago, my entire world shattered again.  I was told that I had been betrayed by the two people I care most about in the entire world. For over twelve years I had been lied to. Not openly and only to protect me. I know that in my heart. But they were lies of omission. They were lies that would have completely changed my childhood. And I was finding out about them twelve years later.

So to recap: I was betrayed (overtly and intentionally) by the one person I loved more than I loved myself, and for longer than that I was betrayed by the two people that were supposed to love me more than themselves.

So there's that.

That's why I am struggling so much with my faith right now.

That's why I'm struggling with my friends right now. That's why lies of omission hurt so badly. That's why little betrayals that don't seem like a big deal to someone else completely break me apart. That is why I have trust issues and I constantly feel as if people are hiding things from me. That is why I can't believe that people can or ever will be truthful to me when it seems so much easier for people to lie. That's why I am so angry all the time about things that other people just "get over."  It has happened too much. It has cut too deep. And now I don't know where to go with any of it.

After all of this, I can't believe in a God that loves me just because He loves me. Because I breathe. Because I am His creation.

I want to. I desperately want to believe in a God that has mercy and forgiveness and endless love. I want to believe that so much. But I don't believe that someone can love me just because I am me. It has been proven to me over and over again that people like that don't exist.

And I know- God isn't a person. He is capable of things that no human can even imagine being capable of...

I know. I know all of this. I can preach it, I can explain it. I can convince other people of it on a regular basis.

I just don't believe it.

I want to believe it so badly because if I believe that God can love me for me then maybe I can start believing that other people can love me for me. No motives, no needs, no mutual exchange of goods. Then maybe I'll feel whole again.

Roots

When you're a freshman at a big school like Ohio State (or any college for that matter), people tend to ask you a few basic questions:

1. What's your major? (Which will almost definitely change by the time you graduate.)

2. Where are you living? (If they are upperclassmen and/or have older siblings at the school, they will almost certainly have an opinion about where you live.)

3. Where are you from? (The answer to this question will immediately make you interesting or realize common friends.)

My answers to the first two questions were always somewhat basic. I'm thinking of majoring in Political Science. I live in Nosker House on North Campus since I'm in the scholars program (humble brag).

The third question was where I always got tripped up. So I varied it.

"I'm from a small town in Virginia."
"I'm not really from anywhere... my dad was in the military."
"I was born in Hawaii, but I don't really claim a hometown."
"Where do I look like I'm from?"
"Here. Columbus. I've just been gone for a while."

I didn't have a good answer for anyone who asked where I'm from. My dad was in the Army, so we moved around every two or three years until we moved to Virginia in 7th grade. I spent the most time there, but it didn't feel like any more of a "hometown" than did Ft. Kobe, Panama or Ft. Riley, Kansas.

My family was a troupe of wanderers. And I was okay with that. In truth, the most accurate thing I could have said when people asked me where I'm from would have been, "I'm at home at the kitchen counter watching my mom make dinner with the hum of my dad watching football in the background."

Although some of that is still true. I love watching my mom make dinner. I love watching the latest Netflix movie with my parents on the couch with my feet stretched across them. I love following my mom around the house and annoying her by "being bored" while she cleans and does laundry. That will always be my home.

But something strange has happened in the past year. When I was a freshman in college, I was afraid of putting roots anywhere, lest it be an angle for people to judge me. It was better if I was a wanderer and I was convinced that I could not be a wanderer with roots.

"Wickedness never brings stability, but the godly have deep roots." -Proverbs 12:3 

As I started my long process of leaving Ohio in my rearview mirror about three weeks ago, I got to thinking about roots and wings. Was it possible for me to have both? And could I have roots in more than one place? I don't think I would be satisfied if I was anchored to one place my whole life.

I think God has a funny way of filling us in on exactly what we need to know at exactly the right moments. (Omnipotence, maybe?) But as I was saying goodbye on the night before my departure, I knew full well that I could have roots and wings. God had given me beautiful people to help shape me, challenge me, and love me in Ohio. He had done the same thing in Virginia (and apparently they weren't done!) and I have a feeling there will be amazing people waiting for me in South Carolina when I arrive at the end of July.

I want to be able to put down roots in different places. It's okay to. No, I think it is best to. Because no matter where you go, you'll always feel at home. You'll always be establishing new roots while expanding your wings.

Home isn't four walls and a door. It's not a sticker on a map or a destination on a GPS. Home is where you feel loved. Where you feel welcome. Where you want to come back to. Where you can cry and laugh and celebrate. Home is not a place, but a people and a community.

And no matter where I go, as long as I can talk to Jesus, I know I'm home.

What Matters

Sometimes God likes to hit you with everything at once. 

I wrote this blog post about three days ago, before I had internet with which to post it: 

I don’t know quite what I was expecting when I packed my bags (tightly) into my little red car and started on my way down to Richmond, Virginia.

But it wasn’t this. 

I’m living in a friend’s house near Cary Street for the summer while he is in graduate school in New Mexico. I adore the house. It’s in a cute neighborhood with lots of old skinny front then back for days types of houses. It’s old. It has character. 

Unfortunately, one of those characters is a toilet that doesn’t work. Another one of those characters was a shower head that didn’t work. Yet another was a shower that has no hot water, a tub that won’t drain, a padlock with no key to be found, a really creepy basement area, dogs that poop in the yard that isn’t theirs, overgrown bushes, halfway done renovations, and no curtains on the bedroom windows. 

Oh, and my allergies are making me look like I’m addicted to drugs. 

Also, I lost my credit card. 

I don’t know what I was expecting when I came to Virginia, but when things really started to get frustrating, I did what any twenty-one year old chick would do- I texted my girlfriend and requested some sparkling wine and good company. 

Although that helped a lot, I was still conflicted with a feeling of loss. Something was missing. I was bored. Or incomplete. 

Then I realized that I hadn’t prayed all day. It’s amazing how we can forget what is most important in our lives when the less important things start to take priority. 

Sorry, God, I didn’t mean to neglect you. Thank you for being here for me even when I turn my back on you.

And then I read it again today. 

Today, after I have been blessed too mightily with a full scholarship to seminary. 

Today, after I was able to run over four miles on my healthy legs. 

Today, when I was able to feed myself healthy food (and a lot of it if I wanted).

Today, when I am lying here in bed watching Netflix on my laptop. 

And I feel sick to my stomach. I can't believe I tried to take "trials" like dogs pooping in my yard and turn that into some sort of sermon. Yeah, okay, people deal with that stuff. And it sucks. But people also deal with things you wouldn't consider sarcastically to be "first world problems."

Famine. Poverty. Sexual abuse. Slavery. Abandonment. 

People being thoughtlessly slaughtered in Boston. A war in Israel. Soldiers dying around the world. 

Those things matter. It makes me sick to think I could look at my own life and want pity. 

I do this more times a day than I would like to admit. I commented to my dad tonight about how I wish I had enough money to go to all the swanky restaurants in my new town. While men and women around the world are saying, "I wish I had enough money to feed my children."

I'm not saying every person around me is like this. I try not to generalize humanity. And I'm also not trying to guilt you into a mission trip to Africa. All I'm saying, is how many times have you looked at the 'E' on your dashboard and thought, "damn I hate buying gas," instead of, "thank you God, for providing me with a car to take me to work and back?" Perspective is everything. We, society, (okay, I'm generalizing...) worry way too much about the little things and way too little about the big things.  I'm not any different. I'm probably worse than most people reading this. But it doesn't mean we can't change.

I wish I was satisfied by thanking God for His amazing blessings on my life and the lives of my friends. I wish I could go to bed in my (not air conditioned, but very comfortable) house every night without the hurt and anger and sadness I feel for the world. Some nights I can. Some nights I don't think twice.

But tonight I won't. I cannot continue to be satisfied with being comfortable. 

I don't want to be comfortable anymore. I want to be courageous for God in ways that I haven't even thought of yet. Because God has not only blessed me with health, money, and a strong faith, but He has blessed me with the ability and the opportunity to do something with the gifts that He has so graciously given me. 

And I want that something to be good. I want it to be worth dying for.