Why I Wore Red Today

I wore red today.

Not because the color highlights my amazing complexion or makes my eyes pop, although I do look pretty fab. Not because this shirt was at the bottom of my dresser drawer because I'm terribly unorganized and most of my clothes are on my floor anyway. 

I wore red today because America's judicial system is deciding something that is going to affect a lot of us. All of us, actually. But it's going to majorly affect some of the people that I love the most. 

In case you've been living under a rock, you'll know that this week, the Supreme Court of the United States will hear arguments regarding Proposition 8 and the Defense of Marriage Act. Both of these are legal documents that bar homosexual individuals from entering into a legal marriage, a topic that has been hotly debated all over the country for some time now. My newsfeeds on Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr have been filled with red to symbolize solidarity with the cause that is up for debate this week. 

And today, I wore red too.

If you know me, it's not a surprise. It's something that I haven't hidden or denied. It's something that I haven't chosen to share if asked. I've even openly stated my opinion a few times. But as for going into detail why I feel this way? That's something I have never had the inclination, or courage, to do. 

For those of you who are reading this that don't know, I have been raised in a Christian home. I don't feel as though this view makes me less of a Christian and I really hope that you don't think so either. I don't ask you to agree with me. I don't ask you to dismiss your convictions. And I don't ask you to support something that goes against your very core of what you hold sacred. Because that wouldn't be honest, just like it's not honest for me to say that I oppose equal rights. All I'm asking is that you hear me out. Or, if you'd rather not, that you not feel obligated to read on. The choice is yours. 

Similarly, I will not deny that scripturally, homosexuality is spoken against. I know and understand this and don't seek to persuade anyone otherwise. The question I would like to pose here, however, is if we begin to mandate scripture into law, where do we draw the line? 

Who decides where we start and stop mandating our faith? Think of the things that are scripturally held as dispicable. Shall we start imposing laws that limit caloric intake to deter the sin of gluttony? What of those who gossip or sow seeds of discord within the church? And furthermore, where did we adopt the idea that preventing these individuals from entering into a marriage stopped the act of sin from happening? Several couples live in a relationship that would, under heterosexual cicumstances, be considered a common law marriage with many of the rights therof. They have been committed for long periods of time, have cohabited, and many have started families through adoption. What they lack is legal recognition, nothing more. The case being heard by SCOTUS tomorrow is in reference to a lady who was with her partner for many, many years and upon the death of said partner, was not entitled to any part of the estate because their marriage was not legally recognized. 

I don't understand how we can stand by and say that that is fair, simply because it doesn't match up with our personal belief system. The great thing about our country is that we have the freedom to choose what we believe, and as a result, there are many different backgrounds present within the nation. The individuals who seek the freedom to marry in this movement don't necessarily believe as we do. So why legislate that belief on them? Is it going to turn them into Christians? Is it going to change their beliefs? 

The answer is no. It's not. And while Christians do have a voice in our country, and that voice IS important, the United States is not a theocracy. Religious law does not stand as the law of the land. And those who don't believe as you do should not be obligated to follow those laws. That's their perogative and their choice. And it's not up to you to make it for them. 

No one is asking you to forfeit your beliefs in this legal debate. Senator Jay Rockefeller put my thoughts more plainly than I could earlier today. " Churches and ministers should never have to perform marriages that violate their religious beliefs, but the government shouldn’t discriminate against people who want to marry just because of their gender." 

No one is forcing you to attend or perform these marriages. No one is asking you to agree or change your beliefs. No one is asking you to wear red or concede the things that you hold dear.

What we're asking is that you let these people live their lives as they choose and accept that maybe, just maybe, that doesn't match up with how you choose to live yours. And we're asking you to love these people anyway. 

NOTE: I know that some will protest that things such as laws against murder are scripturally upheld. This is understandable, as it is a command that prevents one individual from harming another. Not only is that biblical, but it's just good sense. And the difference between the two is simply that one harms another and the other harms no one. If you choose to murder another individual, you take the life of that person, as well as hurting their parents, their friends, their extended family. If you choose to enter a committed relationship with someone of the same gender, you are making a choice that solely affects you and that other individual. No one else is harmed. 

SECONDARY NOTE: I am not writing this so that the comments can become an inflammatory debate. Any derogatory, harsh, or demeaning comments will be deleted as soon as I get to them. Actually, if there was a way to disable coments, I would totally do so. You don't have to agree. You do have to be respectful on my page. 

Love Matters

I'm not one to track news stories religiously, but today, my eyes were glued to something other than social networks on my computer screen.

I read the accounts of nine-year-olds talking about how policemen with big guns led them out of the school where their friends and playmates were senselessly murdered. I saw pictures of teachers leading their kids out of the school and I saw terror on faces as innocence was torn from them. I saw parents pacing, praying that their children were not part of today's fatalities. 

I thought about my brother and sister, who are nine and twelve, and tried to wrap my head around the fact that there are now families in Connecticut that have stockings hung for children of the same ages with whom they will not spend Christmas.

I thought of my babies, the kids at the preschool where I worked and the kids in my student teaching assignments. I tried to put myself in the place of the teachers there, attempting to cope with their own grief, while staying strong for their own babies.

I wept. I sat at my desk and cried unbridled tears for parents that won't tuck their children into bed tonight. I offered up prayers for each and every one of those people affected by this incredible tragedy. I asked for forgiveness for being so consumed and thinking that my problems were so big. And I sent messages to my friends to tell them how much I love them, just in case I don't get the chance again.

In the face of tragedy, as there always is, people feel the need to make a point. They feel the need to point fingers and make statements and push agendas or platforms and tell the whole world that if they had just listened to their sound advice, this might not have happened. I can't believe that people think that this is okay. 

Don't get me wrong. I hate guns. Gun control needs to be discussed. But today is not the day to hate on the NRA. It's also not the day to hate on people who want to lock things down. 

It's not the day to be wagging your fingers at parents who send their children to public school, expecting that their children will be taken care of with people other than themselves; to tell them that if they care about their children's safety, they should homeschool.

It's not the day to be hating on the educational system and the people involved. The teachers and faculty had nothing to do with what happened today and most of us who have worked in education were physically ill by the news that we heard today.

Hate is what made today happen. Don't you think there's already been enough for one day? I don't have kids, but I feel like if I did, today would be the day to sit on the floor and color with your them or read them one more bedtime story. I feel like I would hug them and never stop, ever.

Love matters. I pray we don't forget that.

The Lonely Liberal

Hey guys.....I think something important is supposed to be happening tomorrow, but I can't remember what. If only there were a constant stream of television/radio ads and obnoxious Facebook posts by friends to remind me.

Curse me and my bad memory.

I've just received exclusive word that tomorrow is the big day of the General Election. This is a secret, though. Don't tell anyone, okay? 

In all seriousness, hopefully all of you that are of legal age will be hitting the polls and casting your vote for the presidency. This is something that is super awesome in my book. It's one of the reasons that our country is great. And if you don't take advantage of that right, you don't get to complain and run your mouth about everything that goes wrong over the next four years.

• PS- Regardless of who wins, things WILL go wrong. Don't get me wrong. I hate the assumptions that every person that doesn't do what we want in office is the Antichrist, but if a candidate actually were to come into office and miraculously fix every one of our problems....well....you might want to read the book of Revelation, guys. Your perfect candidate just might be Satan incarnate. [insert obligatory winky face here]

However, on the other hand, I would like to express how stunned I was at a disturbing trend yesterday while at church. It's a dreadfully awkward moment when a number of allegedly well-meaning saints approach you with a smile and a "Praise the Lord!" before asking you the dreaded question.

"So...you're voting for Romney, right?"

And then there's the shuffle of nervous laughter, floor kicking, and avoidance of eye contact as you attempt to explain, as you have so many times before, that although you love Jesus, you're a Democrat. And that while you're not in love with either of the candidates, you might just dislike one of them more than the other and that one just might be Romney.

So basically...no. No, I'm not voting for Romney.

I will not lie to you. I can honestly say that I don't know who I'm voting for. I really have considered voting third party, but I'm conflicted on how that just might be a waste of my vote. And Obama...I'm not in love with the idea of him.  I wanted to like Romney. I really did. But in the end, I just could not bring myself to do it. There are too many good causes that I feel would go to the wayside, from the easily explainable of Planned Parenthood and a variety of other factors that I feel would hurt women, to those that I know that most Christians don't agree with, like marriage equality.

This is not a political endorsement for Obama. This is not me trying to persuade anyone to not vote for Romney. This is solely my expression of displeasure at the tendency of people to forgo common decency and good manners during the Election Season.

The past several months have made me annoyed and at times even angry. I don't understand how a right that is supposed to build us up and make our country better can be the source of so much angst and bitterness. I've seen friends leave nasty remarks one one another's statuses or Twitter simply because of political disagreement. My newsfeeds have been blown up during the debates with cutting words and unfounded statements about either candidate. And therefore, as a result of these things, I would like to address a few of the biggest things that have peeved me before we go to the polls tomorrow:

1. I don't care if you think he's a socialist, a communist, or a demon. God does NOT endorse your hateful words about the President. You are welcome to disagree and offer up a well thought out reasoning as to why you dislike his policies. You have the freedom to express these thoughts, even if they aren't well thought out and based in truth (just be prepared for people to mock you). However, being disrespectful to the nation's leader is something that you are not scripturally permitted to do. 
• Subpoint: Can we please drop the comments about Obama's lack of presidential eligibility due to his religious affiliation or birthplace, which, by the way, he's verified not once, but twice? At this point, I really do not care if Obama is a Muslim. Are we really so petty to tell a little boy today that he can't dream of being President just because he's a follower of Islam or Hinduism or Buddhism....or even no religion at all? Christianity is not a criteria for the Presidency. 
2. It irks me that many Christians have had their heads spinning in response to Obama thanking the Islamic community for their contributions to America. First of all, I'm confused as to why exactly this isn't okay. There are a number of contributions to literature, art, music, and medicine that have been due largely in part to followers of Islam. Also, sports. Guys, SHAQ IS A MUSLIM! (Sorry. That excited me a little bit.) But more importantly, we got up in arms about this, but remain largely silent about the large number of Republicans that have made ignorant statements about victims of rape. Things like that "it's what God willed to happen." Don't misunderstand me. I do believe that God has a plan for each and every individual, including children brought about by tragic circumstances such as rape. I also know that God knows what trials an individual will face in their life and will ultimately use them for HIS good. However, mark my words. If one of my friends is ever raped and I find out that someone informed them after this trauma that God willed that to happen to them, I will track that individual down and curbstomp them. You do NOT underplay a horror that has been done to someone. You do not tell them that it's what God intended for their life. Doing so does nothing more than reassure their mind that God is an evil and hateful being that wants only bad things for them. So remind me again, why is it okay that people in authority are saying those things, but we can't thank a religious community for their contributions to society?
3. A person's vote is their right and their business. Growing up, I was raised believing that you did not ask a person for whom they were casting their vote, and if you did and they were kind enough to answer, you did not shame them for their choice. To make this personal, I don't feel that my lack of support for Romney makes me less of a Christian. And I don't appreciate being looked down upon simply because I have a different political affiliation than someone else. 

Ranting aside, please do vote tomorrow. Vote for Romney. Vote for Obama. Make a write-in vote for my dog, LucyBelle, because she's awesome and would be great at foreign policy as she's freaking adorable. I don't care. Just vote. Vote and be civil. Show love. Show Jesus.

Scribbled Surprises

I stood over the table in my preschool classroom, watching as a little girl focused intently on her current project.

She was fascinating to observe in this state. Lips pursed, eyes focused, and her little hands pressing the poor Crayola crayon to the paper so hard that the tip was permanently blunted. She was about four, and therefore, this artwork was not something that was identifiable to my jaded adult eye. But as her teacher, I was terribly interested in what was capturing her attention so. 

I approached her, slightly unwilling to break her momentum, but the curiosity was all too much. After all, if something can make a four-year-old focus, it has to be something simply enthralling. I knelt down to her level and asked her, "Honey, what are you making?"

She seemed not to hear me and continued swirling her crayons over the paper, stopping only for a brief moment every once in a great while to change colors. So, rather than continue to badger her, I simply remained by her side to watch in awe. 

Apparently, my unfaltering presence did what my words could not and stirred her from her masterpiece. Her eyes met mine and she asked me, with the kind of large audacity that stuns from such a little person, "Miss Abecca, could you go away? I'm trying to draw. It's a surprise and you're messing it up."

It's one of those moments where you're not certain whether to be amused or be distressed, but her expression caused me to believe that the latter was the correct response. So with a small laugh, I left her to her work and attended to the rest of my class.

I think sometimes that God works in this fashion. He's worked tirelessly to form a marvelous creation that to our untrained eyes seems to be nothing more than a scribbled out mess with which He seems entirely to proud to present us. And so we perhaps we ask Him, "God, what are you making of this?" and He remains silent,  too busy to answer. 

I can see myself standing at God's side, poking at Him and asking over and over again to see the work that He's doing, because my patience is thin and I've heard that when He makes something, it's always wonderful. And so I plead with Him, "God, what are you making?" And He remains focused, drawing what I deem to be unnecessary lines and erasing parts that seem to me to be all too important to this unfinished picture, all the while not uttering a word.

And so I stand there, looking over God's shoulder, not really saying much, but letting my impatient indignence shine through, and this appears to get His attention. I'm so proud of myself for twisting God's arm until He says to me, "Could you step back for a minute? I'm trying to create something beautiful. It's a surprise and if you know all about it, you're going to mess it up."

Artwork isn't always clear to the observer. The intent and methods may never be fully understood. But the Artist knows why and how and when He did what. All the observer can do is stand back at the finished product in awe and appreciate the beauty that they might have never seen coming.

Everything I Need

How do you see God?

It seems like an obvious question, whether you support or oppose the idea of a deity at all. If you don't, you might answer, "I don't see God. He's non-existent." If you do, you might still sarcastically answer, "I don't see God. He's invisible."

But look past the surface.

How do you SEE God?

You have so many options. Throughout 66 books, 1189 chapters, and 31,175 verses (by King James' standards, that is) men have woven their own descriptions of an honestly indescribable God. When you take all of these words and multiply them by the countless translations and dissections that modern men place on them in their written theology and spoken sermons, the mind simply cannot comprehend all of the fullness that is God.

I never really realized how paradoxical all of God's descriptors were until I sat in class today. My cousin pointed out that at some points, scripture calls God our father. At other points, it paints the picture of a bridegroom. How is that even possible? How can you possibly look at God as both? Isn't that, for lack of a better term...incestuous?

I don't make this point to be disrespectful or crass or to take away from anyone's personal understanding and relationship with God whatsoever. But doesn't it seem odd that in one breath, we can call ourselves God's bride, while in the next calling him our father or our friend. Perhaps we call him our redeemer or our king. God is so multi-faceted that sometimes, when you're looking at all of his different pieces in one sitting, He really doesn't make that much sense anymore.

So how do you see God?

Have you ever thought about how well God knows you? Personally? Like, he knows you, but he actually does know ever last bit of you. And he has for a long, long time. He knew what you were going to look like, that you were going to have untamably frizzy hair. That the kids at school were going to make fun of you for your freckles. He knew about all of the incidents that were going to make you who you were. He knew that these weren't necessarily going to be good.

I want you to place yourself in the shoes of a girl who has been molested by her father. Whose father was an alcoholic that beat her or told her she wasn't good enough on a daily basis. Or whose father just walked out on her and has been left resenting and hating him for every second of every day since. Can you imagine telling that girl that God is her heavenly father? How would she receive that? Do you think she would be able to love God and trust Him with her life or with her heart?

Or what about the woman who has been left broken by her husband's infidelity? Or the girl who is suffering heartache from a lost love that took advantage of her and robbed her of all the good she had to offer? How do you explain to her that God wants to woo her and take her as a bride? How do you explain that this love is pure when all she knows about romantic love is pain?

Maybe this isn't hermeneutically correct, but I have to think that maybe, just maybe, God thought about those people and loved them enough to know that He had to reach them somehow. I feel like maybe God knew that the fatherless wouldn't always be able to see Him as their father and accept Him in that way. I have to believe that maybe He saw the brokenhearted girl and knew that all she could see of His desire to make her His bride was the potential of abandonment and hurt. Maybe the Bible doesn't say that. But I have to think that maybe it's true.

I don't mean to tell you here that you can't look at God in all of these ways. I don't mean to tell you that you have to only see God as a father or a friend or any of those things and that you have to pick just one. If that's how you see Him and love Him, then that's great and I'm so happy for you.

But the reason I want to say all of this is because I know of people out there who have been hurt and get scared when God is associated with individuals in their past who have left unerasable scars on their lives. And that's not okay. Because the great thing about all of God's descriptors is that it shows just how versatile and big He is. All of those different roles are proof that whatever it is that you're missing, there IS somewhere you can find it.What I'm trying to tell you is that seeking God doesn't have to end in pain or hurt. If you want a father, He can be that to you. If you need someone to rescue you, He does that. If you need someone to validate you and tell you that you ARE good enough, He does that as well.

In the end, it doesn't matter what your individual way of seeing and loving God is. Because really, He can be anything and everything you need Him to be.

Chicken, Oreos, and Tiresome Arguing

*pounding gavel* Excuse me, people. I have something potentially controversial to say. But first, some groundwork:


1.) I believe in the right to protest. Freedom of speech is a wonderful thing. This isn't a limited right. I don't mean, "if you agree with me, you can protest" or "if you believe that which is culturally acceptable, you may protest". What I mean is....


2.) If you stand for something, whatever that may be, you should stand for it 110%, and support it whole-heartedly. If you're easily swayed when things get tough, you don't actually believe something. A belief is not a belief unless you're willing to own up to it in conflict.


Get it? Okay. Good.


So how 'bout that Chick-fil-a? They sure know how to rustle feathers. Ha. See what I did there? Chickens have feathers and....yeah. Never mind.


Before the fateful day that I decided to cut meat out completely, I had a love affair with Chick-fil-a. The nearest one to the school was about 20 minutes away, but the pilgrimage was well worth it to indulge in some delicious nuggets with poly sauce. I'm not even going to lie to you. Pretty much every time I've been tempted to cheat on my vegetarian ways, it's been with Chick-fil-a. It's the taste of Jesus dancing in my mouth. The only possible complaint I might have is that frequently, on my way back to school on the weekends (typically on a Sunday), I would start craving and would be shocked to find that Chick-fil-a was, for some reason, closed on Sundays. I don't think I ever got used to this, and it would typically result in a dramatic dropping to the floor, shaking a fist at the sky, and screaming, "NOOOOOO!" I don't know what it is about those nuggets, but it's deep and it's real.


Unless you've been living under a rock, it's likely that you've heard about the little controversy surrounding the restaurant and their stance on gay marriage. They came out against it (no pun intended) and a large group of people got very, very upset. And you know what? That's okay. They're allowed to be upset. Some are boycotting. Also perfectly okay. An organization has directly opposed something that they believe is important. I wouldn't expect anyone to remain chill in that type of situation. It's upsetting. However, I firmly believe that the outcry in the situation has gotten out of hand, which thoroughly upsets me. Here's why.


First of all, why are we surprised by this whole situation? I'm being completely serious. Chick-fil-a CLOSES one day per week because of their (completely brazen and open, I might add) Christian values. Do you realize the revenue they are forfeiting by doing this? Do you know how many hungry people there are on Sunday afternoons? At least in the Christian community, that seems to be the universal, "Hey, let's go out to eat" day. And Christianity as a whole openly states that homosexuality is a sin. There are many different ways that this is expressed, some more militant (which typically just make me angry) and some with love, but it's unreasonable that when someone says that they are a Christian and that they run a Christian business, to expect them to hide that portion of their belief. They run a business firmly rooted in their faith. It's their prerogative to express their views, just like they do by closing on Sundays to accommodate these beliefs. They made a stand and that's okay. And people disagreed with that stand. As I said before, also okay. You can't get mad because people are choosing not to put their money into something they disagree with.


On the flip side of that argument, about a month ago, Oreo released an ad that showed support for Pride month. This resulted in a number of Christians that I know stating that they would boycott the brand because, much like the current situation, Oreo was blantatly violating their beliefs. Guess what? This boycott was perfectly okay too. If Oreo wants to support marriage equality, that's their right. If you don't want to do the same, you don't have to. And nobody should put you down for that.


The problem comes, in both cases, when the sides start name calling and being disrespectful to one another, and that's what's started to happen here. When the Oreo boycott happened, those opposing were called bigoted and ignorant, which wasn't fair. Are there some who are, in fact, bigoted? Of course. Was everyone involved like this? Absolutely not. And in the current situation, I've seen the nastiness come from both sides, which upsets me because I support a little bit of both.


Just so that you have some background, I have been raised and am proud to remain a Christian. I also happen to have a lot of friends that happen to be gay. And from a legal standpoint, I don't totally oppose the concept of gay marriage. My reasons for this are extensive and complicated and are for another time and post other than this one. I can see both sides of the arguments presented, but the argument has gotten to the point where I don't really care to, because no one seems to be able to discuss it civilly.


To those who support Chick-fil-a: Good for you for standing up and supporting an organization that you believe in. That's awesome. You can't see me, but I'm giving you a thumbs up. But knock the hating off. Not everyone has to show the crispy chicken love that you are, and just because you disagree with the opposition doesn't mean that the founding fathers are rolling in their graves. You don't have to agree with what they're saying, but you also don't get to hate on them for standing up for what they believe in, just like they shouldn't get to hate on you for standing up for your views.


To those who oppose Chick-fil-a: Good for you for standing up and supporting a cause that you believe in. That's awesome. You can't see me, but I'm giving you a thumbs up. But knock the hating off. Really. You're making me look bad here. I'm all for advocating for rights, but you need to understand that while it's not okay for people to hate on anyone for their sexual orientation, it's also not okay for you to knock someone for their religious beliefs. Gay marriage supporters aren't the only ones with freedom of speech. Christians are welcome to that too. 


In closing, I'd like to share the views of Antoine Dodson, famed for his autotuned news story that became the famous "Bed Intruder Song", who happens to be openly gay, yet opposed to the boycott.

If you disagree with the stance that an organization has taken, by all means, exercise your right not to support that organization. But please keep in mind that others are welcome to make that same decision, and you may not always choose the same things.

Words

“Words are like eggs dropped from great heights; you can no more call them back than ignore the mess they leave when they fall.” -Jodi Picoult, Salem Falls


The subject of words is something that has been on my mind excessively over the past couple of days. Between happenings in my own personal life and those of the people I associate with, many things that I had never considered have been brought bubbling to the surface, resulting in much reflection and reassessment of several things.


If you really think about it, words shouldn't mean much. You could argue that the course of a lifetime shouldn't be pliable enough to be swayed by the way one chooses to enunciate and arrange a few choice syllables in one way or another. Biologically, all words really are is the passing of air through vocal cords determined by voluntary muscular control. Or so I think with all of my extensive medical training. All they are is air and waves. Nothing substantial or tangible. Nothing you can touch or hold on to or, without the help of technological means, repeat with exact precision.


And yet they really mean everything. 


Brief sentences change lives all the time. "I'm pregnant", "I love you", "Will you marry me", or "We found something abnormal in your test results" are sentences that completely alter lives on a daily basis, hopefully not all within the same conversation. 


Encouragement or even criticism, said with love, can build someone up and give them the strength to move on. An ill-timed or thoughtless word, even not intended to cause pain or offense, can destroy someone or leave scars that last a lifetime. 


This isn't the type of thing that I usually write. There's no profound statement, witty anecdote, or social commentary to be found here. Just a warning.


Be careful with your words. They can bring forth creation or complete and utter devastation. What you say in a moment can alter someone's life more than you could even imagine.


Make sure your words are worth it. Make them count.

On Manhood

About two weeks ago, I had had enough.

It may seem like an immature outlet, but it was mine and I seized the opportunity to do the grown up thing....

....And wrote a Facebook status. Now, let me just point out that the art of the Facebook status is something that is not to be taken unadvisedly or lightly, but rather reverently and in the fear of God. They're a perfect outlet for the snarky individual, but can also serve purposes for the irritated, the annoyed, and the just royally cheesed off. This frequently leads to vaguebooking, an act which just....no. Don't do it. But in this case, all I really wanted to do was get a point across in a direct, forceful, yet not preachy way. And so I sat down and wrote.

“I get really tired of girls informing guys how they need to "be a man". Seriously. The fact that someone doesn't fit into your macho box of manhood and fish, hunt, and watch football doesn't necessarily detract from their masculinity. The fact that a man is into music or art doesn't make him inferior to others. Different people prefer different things and not all girls want that kind of guy. You're not superior or better because that's what you do or like. Now shhhh.”

A few days ago, I got on my feminist high horse and talked about how the church society tells women that they can be who they are, whilst delivering pointed messages about what is really expected of them. However, it would be incredibly unfair to call out the abuse of gender roles against one group without including the other.

First of all, it needs to be established that I grew up with a dad that was a nurse and has been taking me to musicals since I was seven years old. He likes to tell me that even though I got unorthodox views of what manhood was from him, the mold was broken. It also needs to be noted that I live in Hicktown, USA where in a neighboring town, school is dismissed for the holiday that is the first day of deer season. Men are frequently (but, as is the usual disclaimer, not always) expected to be manly men, enjoying working with their hands, be that through hunting, fishing, or a building trade. You get the idea. Most of the girls I grew up around liked guys with calloused hands who wore flannel and boots.

When I got to Gateway, that expectation didn’t completely change. One of my close friends remarked how she liked a man whose hands were dirty at the end of the day. Another mentioned that she always looked for stained hands, the kind from mechanical work. And I have nothing against that. Everyone has their type, and while that’s not my cup of tea, if a man in overalls sends you swooning, then may the good Lord bless you. If it wasn’t this kind of guy, it was typically a preacher. A hardcore, fiery, evangelistic preacher. Again, this isn’t really something I’ve ever specifically wanted.

Want to know my weakness? The piano. Those girls liked the look of a man’s hands after a day of work? In my eyes, that has nothing over the look of hands quickly moving across those black and white keys. I honestly can’t think of the last time I had any sincere interest in a man that didn’t play piano. It thoroughly intrigues me and has for as long as I remember. I like boys in skinny jeans and Toms. I LOVE boys in vests. I like boys that are activists, that are artistic, and that can make me laugh.  

Here’s the thing I’ve noticed. The boy I just described would be dismissed by so many girls that I know. They wouldn’t approve. Their parents wouldn’t approve. Their friends might not approve. Why? Because he doesn’t fit the mold of what they think manhood should be. Let’s shake it up more. What if this boy shared some of my life ideas? What if he was a vegetarian or hated guns? I can think of a lot of people that would call him a pansy and tell him that he needed to “man-up”. (A side note: the comment that spurred the aforementioned status involved the latter.)

As angry as it makes me to see girls pressured into roles, I feel like overall, we are more comfortable with a girl not fitting the stereotypes than a guy. If a girl goes outside of the norms, maybe we’re not huge fans of it, but we’ll come up with excuses or names for her personality. She’s a tomboy or a free spirit. If a boy steps out of his stereotypes, he stands a high risk of his very sexuality being questioned.

I can understand the appeal of a man that is able to provide for you. For the most part, women are wired with a desire for some sense of security. At least I am. Should I be lucky enough to find someone in the future, I would want him to be capable of, for lack of a better term, holding things together when I’m falling apart. I would want to know that any children I might have would be taken care of, both emotionally and financially. Biblically, THESE are the things that make a man. He’s to provide for his family and love his wife, as Christ loves the church. He’s respectful and shows love. But ultimately, provision has a different definition for everyone. Maybe you do need financial provision. For some people, they’re more interested in emotional provision; someone that will uplift them when their world is falling apart. What works for one relationship or family won’t necessarily work for everyone. Maybe your husband does work out in the fields and physically labors hard to provide. Maybe he’s an artist, a teacher, a musician. These things are all awesome. Maybe he takes care of your kids while you follow your career or ambitions. That’s fantastic too.

Much like what I said about ladyhood, being a man is made up of much more than dress or interests. Ladies, if you’re into the rough manly men, that’s so wonderful for you and I hope that you find what you’re looking for. But some of us dream of  sitting and watching a boy serenade us on the piano.

And I have to believe that my dream is just as okay as yours.  

On Ladyhood

No one has ever accused me of being traditional.


For about as long as I can remember, the term "free spirited" has been attached to me like "delicious" is to cheesecake. And cheesecake is incredibly delicious. I've never been interested in what was sound in the eyes of society or what role I was supposed to play. Don't get me wrong; there are certain societal norms that I think are necessary for society to function and for people not to kill people. Like manners. If you don't say please, thank you, and get your children under control, I feel like the law should grant me permission to shank you. With a shiv. Made of a toothbrush. But I digress, because this post is not about the merits of modern day prison warfare.


I noticed that throughout childhood, my free-spirited ideals made me "cute". As a teenager, this transformed into, "What an individual!" But I feel like the general consensus is that by the time you become an adult, you should be getting it together and morphing into the type of individual that has been dictated by the environment of your upbringing. I'm sure that this is true in a variety of cultures, but I can't speak personally about those, because I haven't experienced what they have to offer. All I can do is speak from my own experience.


Throughout my adolescence, the forefront of esteem-based education was that people basically need to follow the mantra, "Be the best me that you can be!" This statement is more cheesy than the state of Wisconsin, but the meaning is pretty self-explanatory. Your individuality is a key part of who you are and you shouldn't hide it under a bushel- NO! Aside from my secular education, with pep rallies and self-esteem classes every other month, this statement was repeated over and over again in my religious upbringing as well. As I got older, this statement continued, but I feel like the sentiment was not as strong. It felt, and continues to feel, like something that we feel that we must say in order to be polite, like telling your Great Aunt Gertrude that the sweater with pekingese dogs on the front was just what you'd hoped to receive for Christmas.  I was hearing this expression, but at the same time, I was being bombarded with images of what a proper Christian woman looked like. Something that we, by the way, harshly criticize the world for. From what the culture around me has exhibited, I've gathered that because I possess two X chromosomes and love Jesus, I must drink tea, enjoy floral prints, and aspire to be a good wife and hostess.


I feel at this point, I must offer up the disclaimer that not all women that I know in the church follow this blueprint. There are many that don't. Also, if this is the way that you are and those are the things you like, congratulations. Please be who you are and don't let anyone take that away from you. 


A little over a year ago, I came across this article and sat in stunned shock as I read the contents of my own brain spilled out from another persons pen...errr....keyboard.  The piece in its entirety is worth your time, which would probably be no more than three minutes at the very generous most, but this quote best sums up my thoughts:


"We're choking on cutesy things and crafty bits, safe lady topics, and if one more person says that modest is hottest with a straight face, I may throw up. We are hungry for authenticity and vulnerability, not churchified life hacks from lady magazines. Some of us are drowning, suffocating, dying of thirst for want of the cold water of real community."




When I was about 16, I wanted to be a doctor and expressed this desire to one of my Sunday School teachers. At some point, I had also mentioned that I wanted to be married with five kids. This individual looked me in the eye and informed me that I needed to choose which path I wanted, because what I had just told her was against the plan of God. When I was at Gateway, I had another individual inform me that my current life plans, to maybe be married and travel the world on humanitarian missions, probably without any children, were against God's plan because if I was married, I needed to have children and stay home with them. From talking with my peers, these are less isolated stories than they are evidence of a trend that is frequented throughout many churches, and this is something that bothers me greatly. I'm not saying that it's wrong to want to marry young, have a family, and keep house. What I am saying is that I am tired of girls that don't fit the cookie cutter mold being made to feel inferior because of it. I am tired of the assumption that what works for one person simply must work for everyone. And I am afraid that girls will end up leading lives that they don't want because of this pressure. 


Being a woman is more than dressing a certain way and wearing your hair a certain way. The fact that a good number of girls are perfectly happy with wearing their heels all day long doesn't separate them from me, the girl who gets laughed at because she rips off her high heels the second she leaves a restaurant after church because she'd rather run around barefoot. It's about the talent of showing humility and strength at the same time. It's exhibiting love for all, particularly those that you feel are beneath you for whatever (wrong) reason. It's about standing firm on what you believe, whatever that may be, and whatever the circumstances may be. (A note on this point: A belief is not a belief unless you're willing to own up to it in conflict.) 


You are more than a societal prototype. Be you. Dance in a field of daisies. Play football. Eat a bacon cheeseburger (Unless you're Kosher. In that case, definitely don't do that.) Wear Nikes instead of Manolos. 


You are you. You are special. And you deserve to be loved just for that. Because that is enough all by itself. 

Follow

"....A hurricane wind ripped through the mountains and shattered the rocks before God, but God wasn't to be found in the wind; after the wind an earthquake, but God wasn't in the earthquake; and after the earthquake fire, but God wasn't in the fire; and after the fire a gentle and quiet whisper." (1 Kings 19:11-12, The Message)

I’m moving out in three weeks.

I woke up this morning with that thought racing through my brain over and over again and tying my stomach in fifteen different knots. I’m ecstatic because in three weeks, I’ll be back in the place that became home to me two years ago. The place that rips a little piece of my heart out every time that I get on a plane and leave it. But on the other hand….it’s three weeks. And this plan to leave still feels insane and impossible.  But somehow, against my better judgment and human instinct, I know that it’s going to be alright even though things haven’t come together yet. And I’m really not sure if that’s faith or denial.

I got my driver’s license two weeks ago. That’s right. I’m 21 and just now got my driver’s license. But it’s been a ridiculously interesting two weeks. I drove for the first time in St.Louis a couple days after getting it in a friend’s car, which was a complete and total nightmare because drivers there are crazy and I had both of them in the backseat telling me to go different directions. I almost rolled the van during a trip to Wal-Mart about a week ago after taking a turn too sharp. And yesterday, I drove to the Columbus Airport by myself. Well, kind of by myself. And aside from being very, very proud of myself, that hour and change drive ended up being one of my best experiences with God in a while.  

Basically, as you can see here, my mom has been gone for the past few weeks for work. My dad had a rental car, that rental car needed returned, and I was the lucky one that got to drive the family van behind him all the way. We didn’t go on the freeway (Praise Jehovah) but took back roads instead. This wasn’t as completely terrifying as I had thought it would be….eventually. The first five to ten minutes were filled with sheer terror.  Somewhere in the process of this, and God doesn’t do this to me often, I felt like I should turn off my radio station that I was listening to, turn on my gospel Pandora station, and something along the lines of, “We both know that the entire time you’re driving, you’re going to be praying that nothing hits you. Why don’t you just set this time aside for me anyway?”

And so I did.

I explained my situation, something that always seems super redundant because God knows everything. But I feel like God appreciates that I’m acknowledging what’s going on and understands what I’m trying to do there. And  I told him I was scared. He made me a promise, I had set everything in motion with that promise in motion, and that promise seemed to be fizzling three weeks out. But in the midst of the fizzling, it kept being confirmed over and over again. It’s confusing and exhausting. And I told him that I had given him the situation almost three months ago and that I really did trust him, but my instinct is to worry, and that’s creeping up because we’re getting to the point where believing is insane. And the response went something like this (creative license taken):

“Hey, Becky. Do you know where you’re going?”

“God, I just explained this. I’m confused. I don’t know what you’re doing. Woe is….”

“Stop. No. Like, literally. You’re driving a car. Do you know where you’re going?”

“The airport.”

“Okay. Now, do you know the way to the airport?”

“No. That’s why I’m following my Dad.”

“Oh. And he knows how to get to the airport?”

“Well, I’d hope so! I’m following him!”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. He knows that you’re going to the airport and so do you? You both know that you’re heading to the same place, right?”

“Um….yes?”

“But only one of you knows how to get there. Only one of you really knows how to successfully get where you’re going.”

“Yes?”

“And you don’t know how to get where you’re going, but do you have any doubt that you’re going to end up there if you follow your dad?”

“Not really, no.”

“So….you and I both know where you’re going. You don’t know how I’m going to get you there, but you’re following me. Why don’t you have the same trust in me? I have my hand on this right now. All of it. You right now, skittishly driving the minivan over country roads, and this whole thing that you asked me to take care of. Just follow me. I know where we’re going.”

This assurance has been constantly on my mind ever since it happened yesterday.  Which is helpful, seeing as on the way home, I got some bad news about something that could set back the move. It’s scary, but never impossible. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m following someone who does. 

Jealous

I happen to be a fairly jealous individual.

It's not a trait that I'm particularly proud of. But it's one that I will readily own up to. It simply doesn't make sense for me not to admit to it because it's frequently glaringly obvious. It's awful, but there are just times that I crave attention. Don't misunderstand- I hate being the center of attention. I don't want attention from anyone and everyone. But if I manage to get close to people, I like being around them and because of my attempt to be a constantly accessible and available person, I have an admittedly shallow tendency to get the tiniest bit irritated when people don't have the same exclusive schedule that I see myself having.

Yes, I am aware that this is a major character flaw. I'm working on it.


A recent flare-up of this jealousy ended up driving me into a period of deep thought and, eventually, a little bit of conviction. It occurred to me that I can be so persnickety when it comes to my own relationships, but somehow I find it so hard to comprehend the idea that God is a jealous God.

I've always hated that statement. God is a jealous God. It always struck me as being self-centered and just overall negative. I know that this theology is, obviously, quite flawed, but that's the way it always registered with me, so I chose not to think about it. After simmering on the idea, I came to the conclusion that my original thought process really didn't make sense at all. In my own life, I don't crave the time or love of people I hate or am indifferent towards. I don't particularly desire the admiration of my acquaintances. My jealousy tends to be directed towards the people that I hold dearest, the people that I fiercely love. I want the company of people that I deeply care about and to be completely transparent, this group is probably limited to five people at the very generous maximum. And these are all people that I'm invested in.

So here's the thing. I am precious to God. Believe it or not, so are you. God has a passionate interest in your life and existence. Because he loves you more than you could ever imagine. And he died for you, so I guess you could say that he's a little bit invested in you. So doesn't it make sense that he wants to capture your full and undivided attention? Don't you think that if you gave your life for someone, you'd be a little bit peeved if they chose to run around playing with the things that drew them away from the intimacy you intended to have with them?

And doesn't that whole analogy of giving your life to someone who decides to run around eventually sound like a faulty marriage after a while? God seems to think so. Take a brief look through the Major Prophets, namely Jeremiah or Isaiah. The visual is frequently given that Israel and Judah are like philandering wives, cheating on their husbands in some completely despicable ways. (Seriously. Read these parts of scripture. They're, conservatively estimating, about a PG-13. It's really not good.) Adultery is serious business, and God doesn't see your flirtation with the world any differently.

That's not to say that there aren't things in life to be enjoyed. I don't believe for an instant that God intended for us to sit in a room, isolated from everyone and everything, until he returns or we die. Unless of course, you have devoted your life to the work of the monastery, in which case God bless you and why are you online? But if these things become such a big weight that it drives you away from him, then we have a problem. Certainly be a friend to those in the world, but don't be in love with the world.

One last thing. As with any type of relationship, be it romantic or friendship, just because the individual knows that you appreciate them and love them doesn't mean they still don't like to hear it every once in a while. Same goes for God. He's omniscient. He knows what you're thinking. But every once in a while, it doesn't hurt to thank him and tell him you love him.

In fact, I think he'd kind of like that.

Life Lesson 1: On Friendship

Over the next couple of days....weeks....possibly months...maybe years...I'm taking the time to wax sentimental and wise and junk and therefore have developed personal life lessons. These solely reflect my personal observations. Before applying any of these concepts, please consult your physician first. 

Life Lesson 1: The best friends may come from the most unexpected places. Never rule anyone out.

My first memory of my friend Natashia is from about a month after I started at Gateway. Four of us went to the Loop for a Switchfoot concert, there were two backstage passes involved, and Natashia and I did not have said passes. So instead, we went to a Starbucks on the corner, made small talk, ended up discovering that both of us had Blackberrys AND Twitter, and the rest, as they say, is history. However, if you ask her what HER first memory of me is, you’re not going to get a warm fuzzy story like you will from me. Her first memory is from much earlier. Like, the day I moved into the room next door to her and started pounding away at nails in the wall with a hammer. Because I was clueless as to the poor structures that are Gateway’s walls, I thought nothing of this. However, apparently a bookshelf was knocked off the wall, there was lots of yelling from next door, and she wasn’t exactly my biggest fan at that time.

But after that first concert and Blackberry conversation, there have been countless Starbucks dates and mall trips with the car windows down and Emily King music playing loudly, and I’d like to think that we’re pretty decent friends and she doesn’t still hold my poor choice of hammering against me (although it was brought up during the last trip to St.Louis). I can trust her with pretty much anything and know that although we may not see each other for months at a time, our reunions will be filled with shrieks of joy and the obligatory trip to Starbucks.

The moral of this story: your first impression of someone might not be everything. Some of your greatest friends may come out of the strangest places. The person yelling through the wall next door might just end up being one of your favorite coffee buddies. Don’t miss that chance. There are too many awesome people in the world that might end up walking right by you. 

Restored Plans from Broken Promises

Each and every step broke my heart a little more.

I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go home. I knew what was waiting for me there and most of it wasn’t something that I wanted to hurry back to. And I knew what I was leaving was what I needed. My stomach turned and the tears flowed freely down my face as I stood in line for security at the airport and they continued the entire way home.

This wasn’t even my first time leaving. I left St.Louis in August after going back to Gateway was no longer a possibility. Packing up and leaving was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. St.Louis had become my home. I had friends there. I had people who had become my family there. My entire life was centered around the fact that I was going to Gateway in the fall. I was going to build my life off of that reality. And when it didn’t happen, I fell apart.

I got so angry. If you don’t know the story of how God called me to go to Gateway, it’s really interesting and you should ask me sometime. But the Reader’s Digest version is that I gave up a killer scholarship to my first choice program at my dream school to go to Missouri. Basically, all I could see at that moment was a box full of hurt and broken promises that God had chosen to give me instead of fulfilling what he told me that one night in May.

In October, I went back again. I sat in church and told God that I wanted to be back there, but was so afraid to tell him that because every dream I seemed to give to him, he took away. His response was a quiet, “Trust me. I’ve got this.” And I believed him.

Around December, it fell apart again. The plans dissipated and a plan B came to light. Plan B then fell apart a few months later. It made me mad at God. Furious.  I had pretty much been in a constant state of running and rebellion since I had to leave. And I made the decision early last month that because everything was falling apart, I might as well go visit St.Louis. I needed my friends. Right then. So I went. I didn’t expect anything extraordinary.

It’s easy to lie to yourself and say that you have it together. That you’re okay and you’ve got it figured out. But when your best friend sits across from you at lunch one afternoon and tells you that he’s worried about how much you’ve changed, it’s hard to face that. But you can still lie. Because I did. I still said that everything was okay. That I was okay. That me and Jesus were besties. You really can’t lie to friends that know you inside and out, but I tried it anyway, and the subject was dropped.

Friday night was something I’ll never forget. Live Recording. Something that ends up being spectacular every year, both musically and spiritually. I will never forget sitting there that night, with tears running down my face as God spoke to me.

“Who are you, Becky? Seriously? What is all this? This isn’t you. Look at you a year ago. You were determined. You trusted me. You came to me sincerely, with a situation that you knew you couldn’t fix yourself. You were scared, but you knew me and sought me, and you can see today that your miracle came to pass.

Why don’t you trust me anymore, Bex? Have you forgotten who I am? Have you forgotten that I love you and I know exactly what you want and need? I know your heart, as messed up and broken as it is. I promised you five months ago that I was going to take care of this. Why don’t you trust me? ‘I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out- plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.’ Once upon a time, that was your life verse. The word that you clung to when your life didn’t make sense. I still mean it, you know. I know you’re confused and hurting. But I’m not confused. I know your life, beginning to end. This will happen for you. Stop worrying. Stop being scared. Turn your life back to me. I still want you. And you still want me.”

God kept confirming this word, over and over again until I left on Sunday evening. I walked out of the building to get in the car and as I did, I found myself quoting Jeremiah 29:11 over and over again to myself.

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

And so we’re back to the beginning, with me standing in the security line, keeping it together until my best friend walks away and then collapsing into tears. While God keeps whispering.

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

Teaching a persistent worrier to have faith is right around the same difficulty level as teaching a goldfish to tap dance. This summer, I’m going to be in St.Louis. I don’t know how it’s going to happen. But it is. There’s no way that I can do this on my own. But I serve a God that loves the impossible. The impossible is where He can do his best work and nobody else can take the credit. The impossible is where He is glorified. I have moving boxes sitting in my closet that are waiting to be filled. And they will be soon. Because when this happens, it’s going to happen faster than I can process this. God will have his way.

I don’t know how this is going to happen. But I do know one thing that surpasses all of the things that I don’t.

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

On Joyful Noises and How I Don't Hate Them

NOTE: Because this post is about music, there are a lot of links below. For each of the artists, I have provided the link to a YouTube video for one of my favorite songs by each of them. There is no judging allowed whatsoever. Thank you.

I adore music.

I pretty much live it. Breathe it.

If someone were to uninstall my Pandora app, I don’t know that I’d die, I think I’d probably just cease to exist.

There’s no genre that I pledge my exclusive allegiance to. My interests range from the classy, like Mumford and Sons, Corrine Bailey Rae, Florence + the Machine (whom I really did love before everyone else claimed to), and probably my absolute favorite, Adele (ditto. For realz, people. If you didn’t do an interpretive dance to “Cold Shoulder” and “Best for Last” when “19” came out, step off because you’re on the bandwagon) to the…ummm.. questionable. I’ve been guilty of knowing too many lyrics from Gaga or Ke$ha, along with a little bit of Katy Perry. I really have no shame.

You’ll notice that there’s no Christian music on there. And behold, you’ve discovered the inspiration for what I’m writing right now. Now shhh…I’ll get to my point in a second.

Most of my friends at Gateway were music majors. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be an ed major at a table with five music majors? I might as well have been at a table with people speaking Mandarin. My proudest moment was seeing a t-shirt once that said “I’m a fermata. Hold me” and LOLing because I took piano lessons for a week when I was ten.

I would spend hours in the practice room (or, on the right day, laundry room) listening to various artists between whom I honestly couldn’t differentiate, while my friends prepared for the week’s chapel services. Times in the car were spent as impromptu concerts and/or practice  sessions as I listened to the same fongs over and over again ad nauseum until my eyes would reflexively roll right out of my head.

Why? Because I don’t get any of the theory or technical artistry that my friends do. (Sorry, guys!) I’ll sing it worshipfully in church because it’s there, and I’ll have an uneducated opinion that it sounds good, but honestly, I don’t find much distinction or originality in the Christian music that I hear anymore. This is in addition to the fact that most of the music I hear in the contemporary Christian category could be easily mistaken for a “secular” love song. No distinction whatsoever. In the words of one of my best friends, “boyfriend Jesus songs”.

On the flip side of this argument, I am perfectly willing to suggest that perhaps the reasoning behind my apprehension towards music in the contemporary Christian genre is my lack of consistent exposure. Because I do favor alternative music, I don’t generally make my music selection intentionally faith based.

Which brings me to this past week. At my workplace (a Christian day care center, for those of you not in the loop), we have limited musical selections at our disposal. Basically, you can either play children’s CDs based towards the super-flaky Conscious Discipline curriculum, or you can play the local Christian radio station. Let me first say that I’m not by any means a fan of this station. It’s run by students at MVNU and honestly, there’s nothing overtly wrong with it. It just features students who I suspect OD’d on their daily dose of happy flakes and think that everything they say is a.) incredibly interesting and/or b.) hiLARious. However, you can only listen to songs such as “I use the potty respectfully” about 14 times in a five hour shift before you go completely Looney Toons. Soooo…perky Christian radio it is.

Here’s what shocked me. Despite the bubbly nature of those running the staton, I didn’t totally hate it. In fact, over the four-ish months that I’ve worked at the center, I’ve developed a familiarity and relative fondness for some of what I was hearing. Don’t get me wrong. I would go home and listen to my other, preferred music. But it wasn’t the torture I anticipated and I noticed subtle changes in my thought process and attitude as I listened.

This prompted an experiment. What if I cut out the other stuff for a week? Just solid Christian music for seven days. Not the radio station, because let’s be serious. I can handle five hours, but with my constant musical intake? No. So my non-working hours have become supplemented with KirkFranklin, Israel Houghton, and Royal Tailor (my personal very favorite) Pandora stations.

I’m not even going to lie to you. It’s not been easy at all. Today is day six, in case you were wondering. But I’ve liked it. I’ve actually enjoyed it. And I don’t feel the need to cut everything from my music completely, but I do feel like the week has given me new insight and appreciation for music that I really wasn’t giving enough credit or time to. This music will likely become a bigger part of what I listen to, and I’m strangely okay with that.

Here’s all I’m saying. Don’t judge what you haven’t tried. Most things are at least worth a sincere thought and/or effort. It won’t kill you. In fact, it will probably make you a more rounded individual with cultured tastes.

And who knows? You might find something that will actually enhance your life.

PS- This has probably been my favorite song so far this week.

My Siri God

I caught myself doing something in prayer tonight.

I’m pretty sure that I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, so thanks for that whole knowing the heart’s intents, God. But after it came out, I realized that it was certainly not an isolated incident.

Sometimes, when I’m talking to God casually (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, mind you), I’ll find myself making remarks something along the lines of, “Please help me remember to…..”. I don’t know why, but this struck me as amusing tonight.

For those of you who are the owners of the iPhone 4s, or are in anyway familiar with this product, you know about something called Siri. You’ve probably seen commercials or heard it mentioned among friends. Personally, I’m too cool to own an iPhone and I rock an Android with a super-classy slide out keyboard (holla!), but I really wish that I was able to download a form of Siri for my phone. It just amazes me and I want it.

Siri is convenient. She is all-knowing and matchless in all of her ways. She will take your obscure request for an egg fu yung dinner and suggest that there are 47 Chinese restaurants fairly close to you. From what I can gather from commercials and an incredibly hilarious episode of Big Bang Theory, she’ll remind you of events and call you by the name of your choice, no matter how completely ridiculous It may be or how much your friends laugh at you.

She’s non-judgmental. She’s chill. She’s your own, super-awesome, electronic assistant.  

I feel like I treat God like Siri sometimes.

I feel like I’ll be talking to him and I’ll bring up a situation that I’m having issues with or need guidance on, and rather than genuinely digging into His word or seeking His guidance, I’ll simply look up at this almighty digitized program in the sky and command, “Tell me how to solve my problem.”

And then I become irate when he doesn’t immediately spit forth an answer and call me Rock God.

A couple of years ago, I started getting into reading all of those interesting, deep theological books with trendy names that you see at Lifeway on the shelves. I’m not going to lie. I still love to read some of them. I have three currently on my bookshelf that I’m always too busy to finish. While having this literature easily accessible and well-written is a beautiful thing, it can also work to one’s detriment if he or she isn’t careful. It’s so easy when reading pretty interpretations to get caught up in the nuance and attempt to reduce God to some equation or formula and think we have him all figured out. It’s not intentional. Personally, I like looking through books because it’s an art form that I can appreciate. Some people find God through music, I find Him through the written word and finding what other people have to say about Him interests me.

But it does happen. And from experience, I’ve found that once you think that you have God figured out, he likes to change things around to show you that that isn’t exactly the way things work.

God is for seeking. God is for longing after. And yes, he does desire to give us good things and is a source of help in times of trouble. But he’s not Siri. And for this I am eternally grateful.

Even if he doesn’t call me Rock God.