My education after seminary

I had never worked in the food industry before this spring. I don't regret having to work in a restaurant as a hostess to make ends meet. We have to do what we have to do between graduation and first call. I've learned a lot and come to appreciate the service industry even more than I did before. That saying (I don't know if it's actually a saying) that "everyone should work in the food service industry at least once," is very true.

So here are some things I have learned while working in a restaurant...


Ice cream solves a multitude of problems. My manager's go-to move when someone is upset or an order is made wrong (over and over again) is to send the table ice cream (actually gelato because we think we are fancy). And let me tell you, people are totally into it. They are delighted to get free ice cream after their meal. The other day, we had a little girl come in with her parents and she was just WAILING. She wanted ice cream and she wanted it about ten minutes ago. As I sat them, I mentioned to her mother that we have gelato (pft). The wailing stopped as the gelato-posing-as-ice-cream was delivered. Ice cream solves everything, y'all. It just does.

Your education means nothing if you aren't nice. I was chatting with a fellow hostess, exchanging stories, and asking about her life. She said she is currently working at Tazza because she just got out of a bad relationship and had to move back in with her parents. As I mentioned that I had just finished my master's degree. "How old are you?" she asked. I replied that I'm 25. She said, "I feel so under-accomplished! You're younger than me and you have a master's degree!" I was quick to point out that we are both working the same job for the same wage. Education means absolutely nothing when you're in the same lot in life.

The 5/10 rule makes a lot of sense in real life. In restaurant business there is a rule that says if someone is within ten feet of you, you should acknowledge the person with a smile or a "hello." If you are within five feet of a person, you should greet them and offer to assist them. As an introvert, it is really easy for me to dip my head when people walk down the street or greet me in a grocery store. Since working in a restaurant, I have greeted a lot more people in my day to life. This is also a "rule" that I think is invaluable in ministry, whether we tell our worship greeters about the "rule" or using it in our lives everyday.

People just want to be treated like human beings. Whether it is the chef, the line cooks, the host, the servers, or the guests, we simply want to be treated like human beings. Whatever that means to you might vary, but to me it means that people who are in the service industry are people. People who go to eat in restaurants are people. It's not super complicated. I don't think that one person is any better than the other. Sure, I work in a restaurant where I can't afford the food, but that doesn't mean I should be treated like a someone who is less than human. It's probably too much to ask, but you know, I'm an optimist.

Keep your feet underneath you. I'm not the most graceful person in the world. I was slipping and sliding on the kitchen floor the other day and someone said, "keep your feet underneath you." That sounds like common sense, but it's more about not cutting corners or going too fast. And I can really use that advice. I'm pretty good at going too fast and forgetting to take a look around and appreciate my life.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm really enjoying working at the restaurant, and it is teaching me a lot. I hope I don't have to work there forever, but I'll take these lessons with me into ministry and whatever is next in life.

A Reflection, a Farewell

Every Tuesday night I have the privilege of leading a bible study at the house of some of my wonderful parishioners. We start around 9pm and end as close to 10pm as I can get us without going too far into the night. Then we gather in the kitchen to continue to chat and eat whatever delicious food and sweets are present that night. By the time we leave (often somewhere between 10:30 and 11pm), I am so sleepy and stuffed that I zone out as another couple drives me home.

A few nights ago, we had bible study, realized that we only have a few weeks left together, and scheduled our very last bible study (which will end up being us gathering for food and possibly talking about Jesus a little bit). That evening as we drove home, I noticed the odd sound of country music coming over the Malaysian radio station. Thomas Rhett's "Die a Happy Man" washed over my ears and I smiled. Oo how I miss country music and seeing the stars at night and bonfires. I felt ready and eager to be "home" in the United States.

Then as I kept listening to the lyrics, I felt sorrow and maybe even regret. It's hard to name exactly the emotions that flooded into my heart, but it wasn't the joy of leaving, it wasn't the excitement of seeing my family at home.

"If I never get to see the Northern lights
Or if I never get to see the Eiffel Tower at night
Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand
Baby, I could die a happy man"

The premise of the song is that this man has some "bucket list" items, but he sings that even if he doesn't get to do all of those things, he would "die a happy man" just because he gets to spend his days with this woman. I know this feeling all too well. Daniel and I used to move the furniture and dance in the living room. Or we would turn his small apartment into a movie theater. We went on some pretty incredible dates, but my favorite times together have been when we didn't have to spend any money at all. We were just together and happy. We have dreams and plans, but even if they didn't work out, we are still so happy simply being together.

But as I heard this song, I realized that we did get to see our metaphorical Northern lights this year. We did get to see our metaphorical Eiffel Tower at night. And while it's true that our love would be just as incredible and we would be just as happy without these experiences, the truth of the matter is that we have done things this year and seen things that we never could have imagined in our wildest dreams.

And I don't think I've been as grateful as I should have been. I took a lot of it for granted. I think part of it is because I never could have imagined being here and seeing these things this year - or maybe everything happened so quickly that I haven't had a chance to digest it- but I won't use that as an excuse. Until I started to hear that song play over and over in my head, I don't think I fully realized how amazing our first year of marriage has been. Every once in a while we would turn to one another and say, "We are living in Malaysia. How odd the way life turns out," but I don't think it all sank in the way it did the other night.

We saw the famous tea fields of the Cameron Highlands in Malaysia.
We dipped our toes into oceans and seas that I never would have thought we'd visit in our lifetime.
We rode a 40 year old elephant and fed an eight year old elephant!
We watched the sun rise over Angkor Wat.
We watched the sun set on a beach in Bali.
We rode on a crazy cable car in Langkawi and walked on a long curved suspension bridge.
We spent part of Thaipusam at Batu Caves.
We saw the giant reclining Buddha at Wat Pho.
We ate authentic pad thai from a street cart in Bangkok.
We watched a storm roll into the city, sweeping over the Petronas Towers and KL Tower, on the helipad of a skyscraper.
I've preached in three countries and had my sermons translated into several languages.
We went to Universal Studios in Singapore.
We also went to the rooftop pool at Marina Bay Sands and rode the Singapore Flyer.
We had dinner on the rooftop of the #1 restaurant in Phuket.
We shared many of these memories with my parents and Daniel's brother.

And last, but certainly not least, we spent the entire year being welcomed and loved by people who knew nothing about us and committed to helping us grow in ministry, in life, and in love.

This past year has been more incredible, difficult, and surprising than we could have ever imagined. And I think I am just now realizing that this isn't normal. This life is a privilege and an honor. This year has been such an unfathomable blessing from God and I know that we will not soon forget the beautiful memories we have shared in this first year of marriage.

It also gets me excited about what God has in store for us next. We are ready- where will our next adventure lead us?

Mom (Wife?)

Throughout my entire life I have always wanted to be one thing: a mom.

Weirdly enough, I had never really thought about being a wife.  I guess it would make sense that those two things go together but they never have in my mind. Now, my friends will tell you that I have thought about marriage.  This isn't exactly accurate. I've thought a lot about a wedding. A big party. A white dress. Lots of friends.  But I've never really thought about a marriage.

I don't think I've ever wanted to be alone though. Maybe it's the fact that I have never wanted to define myself by being someone's wife. I don't know what it is, but I have always kind of imagined myself hanging out with my best friend and raising kids.  Who knows, maybe that's what marriage is supposed to be.

Despite being in a relationship pretty consistently since about eighth grade, I have never imagined married life for myself.  (This might have something to do with a broken engagement, but we never really unpacked that during CPE.)

I have, however, imagined my life being a mom.  Since coming home from Honduras in January, I have started researching adoption laws and reading fiction and nonfiction books about adoption.  It has become a problem. (Haha)  But the funny thing about it is that I'm serious.  My friends roll their eyes and laugh at me when I talk about adoption, but I can't wait.  Many countries I've researched require adoptive parents to be married, 25 years old, and have a steady income.  Honduras is just about that "easy."  Three more years and a steady income.

Despite imagining myself as a mom and not a wife, I have never thought I would be alone.  Actually, I'm afraid I might be alone.  You see, I don't have normal plans for my life.

You've already heard about the adoption thing.  To take it a bit further from normal, I don't really want to give birth to any children.  Seriously. Cue my fear of hospitals and the fact that I think I'd be THE worst pregnant woman on earth.  One step further from normal: I think I'd like four or five kids (or more).

I also want to travel and live paycheck to paycheck, loving as many people as I possibly can. Possibly in a mud hut. Possibly without running water and electricity.

Not many people want to live close to poverty and devote their lives to people in another country. Even if it sounds like a good idea for a few months, it would be hard for most people to put their dreams of a normal family, house, and stability on hold for five or ten years. It's hard for me to think about it and it's something I've thought about for many years.  It's hard for me to ask someone to disregard what they think of as a "normal" relationship, and plunge into the unpredictability of adventure and love.

I'm already running and I need someone to run beside me and be my partner.  I don't know if that means marriage or a husband.  And that's pretty terrifying. Especially considering I'm in a relationship with a man for whom I'd give all of that up.

But maybe that's okay.  Maybe that's the point.  Maybe we are supposed to be so in love that we would give our dreams up for one another but we are also so in love that we would never ever ask one another to.

Such is life. Paradox.

My Restlessness

Restless (adj.) - unquiet or uneasy, as a person, the mind, or the heart; unceasingly active; averse to quiet or inaction, as persons.

I think my restlessness started when I was very young. We moved around a lot when I was a child and once you are accustomed to something for 14 years, it becomes a part of who you are. Every two years (sometimes sooner) I feel a type of tugging- a want for less routine, more spontaneity, something new, a purging of all that is old.

My restlessness has led me to do some silly things. I begged my mom to redecorate my bedroom while I was in high school because we had no plans of moving. When I was in college I cut off all of my hair in the quest for something new and different. Sometimes I try out a new style of clothing for a while. It's like a midlife crisis every two years.

My restlessness has also led me to do some other mildly crazier things. Like draining my bank account on a ticket to Hawaii for ten days. And writing an entrance essay for seminary.

Sometimes it's a combination of restlessness, anger, sorrow, the need for freedom - the realization of something small - for me to do the big things that need to be done. Breaking off an engagement. Ending a relationship of almost five years.

I'm afraid my restlessness will leave me alone in this life. If not alone, it certainly has the potential to leave me lonely. In my need for change, I pick everything up and move. I leave the people I love in the search for something to stop my restlessness.

I used to be afraid I would never find the cure to my restlessness.

Then I went to Honduras.

Honduras seemed to settle me. I never felt more physically healthy than when I was in Honduras. Even the things you'd expect from international travel (exhaustion, stomach issues, soreness from more physical work I'm used to) didn't bother me at all.  I have had neck and shoulder issues from being a student for 17 years and sleeping on a thin mat on a concrete floor didn't leave me aching in the morning.

I also couldn't have been happier than I was in Honduras.  I missed talking to my parents and friends, sure; but I don't think I've ever laughed for ten days straight and I was filled with so much joy while I was there.

I felt filled with the Holy Spirit on a moment to moment basis in a way I've never felt before. I could see God in every child's face and every evening worship service.  I felt God's touch every time a six year old held my hand and in the mornings when the weigh of the mist in the mountains was heavy.

I wasn't restless there.

It took me about 4 hours in the country before I felt as if I belonged there. I've never felt so at home. We had something to do every single day and there was a new adventure around the corner of every dirt road. If I ever got bored in Honduras, I was doing something wrong.  There were endless things for me to learn there.

I miss it every day.

I'm no longer afraid that I will never find a cure for my restlessness. I know that God will lead me back to a place like Honduras. I feel the workings of that every day as I sit in class and as I talk to professors and pastors about international mission.

But it's really hard to wait. I'm doing everything I can to convince myself to stay in seminary and finish my degree. But it's so hard when I'm restless here. Especially restless here. I'm comfortable here and I hate being comfortable.

I long for poverty and adventure and challenge and love. I long for the faces of children and laughter surrounding me every day. And I don't know what that means for my future or where I'll be in the world, but I know I won't settle until my life is consumed by 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

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. 

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. 

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.