An Attitude Adjustment and A Reality Check

Warning: This post may contain adult content.

This Sunday I visited my hometown church for Mother's Day. I'm not kidding when I say my pastor gave the exact same sermon he gave last year. I remember because I've only been home twice in the last year; last Mother's Day and Christmas. I also remembered because, on a whim, I flipped to the beginning of my prayer journal, trying to remember when I started writing in it. Wouldn't you know, I had started it on Mother's Day of last year...and the opening entry was a tough read.

I had written these words: I am 24 years old, still single, and half way through my Master's program, but I'm struggling to find  real purpose. I also wrote that I was starting a new Beth Moore series on Esther and that I hoped to fill my new journal with new life, new growth and some answers to my loneliness, my despair, and my fear of getting lost in the shuffle. My last few sentences read, I know I might not get any fireworks or miracles out of this year, but He has been my God through everything and I know He will not bring about His plan and purpose for my life without me. 

That was a year ago. I had no man, no mission, and a deteriorating motivation to find either one. I had listened to my pastor preach about the ideal Christian woman in Proverbs 31 and wept bitterly through most of it, certain I would never and could never be that woman. 

That was a year ago. And this Mother's Day, I was amazed at what had come to pass. Let me just forget for a moment that I am engaged to a truly wonderful Christian man. Let me put that aside. In the last year, I have found beautiful Christian women both at school in Waco and at home in Illinois to share my heart with. I have been mentored and loved by so many, finally convinced that I have a shot at Proverbs 31 after all, even if it takes me my whole life (which, personally, I think is exactly how that chapter is supposed to work, but that's another post for another day). I have found a mission, particularly in this blog and in trying to help young women around me. My resolve to continue working towards my book about young women, sex, and the Church has never been stronger. In the last year, I believe I have found my mission and my audience. Finding the perfect man to walk and love me through it is a bonus. 

If you look through the pages of my prayer journal, you can see both of these stories play out. You can track how I found this mission and how I managed to find my fiance as well. Both are incredible stories and I cannot wait to move forward, full speed ahead.

At least, I was ready to move forward until this last weekend when I had the biggest reality check about my mission that I have ever experienced. Flipping through the stations during my drive home, I heard a podcast about Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) among young Bohra Muslim women. My hands were shaking as I listened to a young woman about my age share the story of how a woman in her community had cut her when she was only about 12 or 13 years old. She shared how it affected her view of herself and her sex life. More importantly, she shared conversations she had had with her mother and grandmother, who had also been cut as young women and yet still allowed their daughters to be cut. When it was over, I marveled that FGM was still a global issue; I had heard about it once in my General Psychology class in college and assumed it was confined to native tribes in Africa. But this woman was a young professional, a millennial Muslim, who saw other woman silently suffering from the ramifications of being cut every time she stepped into her mosque. 

My first reaction was horror, my second was the most extreme humility. My entire ministry, this blog, everything I've dreamed of speaking, writing, and sharing with young women comes from the simple basic truth that young Christian women have questions about sex, their bodies, and their value to the church that are going unanswered. If we are as in love with our Savior as we say we are, we view our bodies through the lens of sanctification. We know that we are truly and wonderfully made. It is our devotion to our God and His desires for our lives that causes us to ask questions about sex and purity. And yet, for this young Bohra woman, it was her family's devotion to Allah that caused them to take away her opportunity to even ask those questions. They had removed that discussion from the table before she even knew her own body.  I could feel they had cut something, she said, but I didn't know what. Then they gave me candy and I went home.

You see, I'd been viewing my mission as a vital one to women in the church, and while I still think it is and I still plan to pursue these goals, I have to remember that at the end of the day, all of the Christian women I talk to, by comparison to the women I heard on the podcast, will someday be able to enjoy sex. Many of these women will never have that option because of an irreversible decision her mother made.  That should humble each and every one of us who look at purity, virginity, and sexuality as a central, non-negotiable discussion for Christian values and development. There are many who consider virginity and rigid purity a salvation issue, right on par with believing in the Trinity. But believe me, after hearing this podcast, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is not a conversation we should feel obligated to have, it is one we should feel privileged to have.

I'll wrap up this post with my final response to the podcast. One of the women the host interviewed explored the idea that in her particular community, it did not appear that men were the controlling force behind FGM, but rather other women who had been brainwashed to believe that you do what tradition dictates and you do not question it. Women who had been cut as children and then suffered through sex just long enough to have kids went on to cut their own daughters. This blew my mind until I realized that how people of faith address the topic of sex has generational ramifications no matter what religion you are. This woman's sexual experience would only ever be what her mother made it, and in many ways, our daughters' sexual experience, their understanding of who they are and their value as women will also be determined by how, what, and when we teach them about this important gift from our Creator. I think in the next few weeks I will be moving in leaps and bounds with this theme and doing a lot of casual writing. But if nothing else, ladies, hear me when I say that FGM has to stop. Warped ideas about sex and women in the Church have to stop. God can dig us all out of some of the darkest pits and scariest moments, but turning to Him is only going to be possible if we stand up for one another as women.

Back Before I Said Yes....

I haven't published a post in over a month and there's a very good reason for it. I recently got engaged and started planning my wedding!! The last ten days have been a whirlwind of booking venues and telling the story over and over again for whoever's willing to hear it. Guys, I am SO LOVING THIS!! But I have to tell you, there's a few things that are eating me up inside that I wish I could go back and tell myself just a few days, even moments, before I'd said "Yes."

Don't worry, I still would have said yes. In a heartbeat. I am so happy and so very excited to spend the rest of my life with a man that is so kind, good, compassionate and who loves Jesus. Two years ago, if you had told me that I was going to marry him, I would have been comfortable with the idea, but I would have laughed at the idea of being just this happy. 

But what I want to share now is really important and it has nothing to do with how happy I am. Please do not read this post to say that I am not elated at the idea of getting married. But for the young single women who keep me writing, for the ones I hope to continue reaching, for the ones I pray and weep for, there is something you desperately need to know. I have spent the last 12 years longing for a relationship, for someone to marry, for a prince to sweep me off my feet and now that I have one, I am already seeing drastic changes that I wish I could have seen coming. 

When they say singleness is a gift, they mean it. I have been engaged for ten days and I can already feel the strain. I already miss how easy it was to focus on nothing but Jesus when I was single. I love talking to my fiance, but making time for Jesus is harder than it's ever been. If you are a single student, you may feel like work and class are crushing you right now, but you will never have so much time for prayer, worship and reading His Word than you do right now. And if you don't make time for it now, you certainly will not make time for it once you are planning a wedding. So make quiet time with Him a priority now. 

Unfortunately, just as making time for your Savior gets harder, so does temptation. I have been struggling with sexual temptation for years. It has poisoned my relationships, the most important one being me and God's. There has been a light at the end of the tunnel for awhile now; I have drawn so much hope and joy from my Father's faithfulness, His goodness, and His promises. But I still believed that once I was in a relationship or once I was married, these temptations would evaporate because I would have someone who would fulfill that need. My dear friends, that is a lie straight from the pit of hell. Sexual temptation does not cease just because you have a ring on your finger. No, no, no, no. It gets worse. Because in my mind, I can begin to make excuses. In many ways, that ring becomes a Get Out of Jail Free card. I'm going to marry him, I tell myself, so that makes it okay. But it's not. And instead of tearing down walls between me and my fiance, my temptation and complacency towards it are only building them up.

In the same way that how much free time you have does not determine how much time you will dedicated to reading your Bible, whether you are single, dating, engaged or married will not magically eliminate whatever temptation or baggage you're carrying. The only difference is whether or not you are willing to let someone else help you carry it. The first person you can give it to is Jesus, because He hung on a cross for the right to carry it for you. But the second person you need to be willing to share it with is your partner.

I'm not sure which is harder. Admitting that this struggle is still such a weight OR asking my fiance to help me deal with it. But that's what marriage is: being willing to share the baggage we cling to even though it's killing us and gently doing the same for our partner.

I'll be the first to admit, I have no idea what this looks like logistically, but thank the Lord I have the rest of my life to find out. Part of me wants to run and hide, part of me can't wait. But one thing is definitely for sure. God is faithful, He is good, and He keeps His promises. I cannot wait to see where the next few months take me and this blog. I'm as excited as ever to explore how God uses and speaks to women in every stage of life. Even though our situations change, His desire for us will never, ever waver.

Take A Look...

If I have not already recommended this book, I'm doing it now!!

Lost Women of the Bible is a fantastic read and it changed my life.

Carolyn James speaks my language!! Basically, everything that I have ever had in mind for this blog is in this book. I have long searched for someone or something to put into words my passion to understand and share the place, role and experience of women in God's Grand Narrative. Ladies and gentlemen, this is it. I have one of my mentors, Carol Acree Cavalier, to thank for sharing this book with me. When I told her I was starting this blog, she promptly handed me this book and I have to admit, I nearly closed down the blog and just sent everyone I knew a copy.

No matter who you are, how old you are, or what you do for a living, if you have any interest in how God has worked and continues to work in the lives of His creation, please take a look at this book! You will not regret a moment of it! And on the slim, off-chance that you do, let me know and we can talk about it over coffee. I'd LOVE that!!

Where's Your Happy Place?

Many of us have a happy place. It's usually inviting and comfortable, maybe even cozy. We go there to remember good things, good people, and good memories.

Until last week, Missoula, Montana was my happy place. I lived there for a year from 2013-2014 and fell positively in love. The sight of mountains still leaves me teary. I feel closer to God and closer to the best version of myself when I'm in the mountains. In Missoula, I attended a fantastic church and became a part of a community committed to doing radical things for the Gospel. I found a new piece of myself there and when I left for grad school in Texas, I think I left it in that valley. Last week I returned to this happy place and it looked almost completely different. The Hip Strip downtown was missing some of my favorite stores and the Zootown coffee shop had been remodeled. I didn't know anyone there. My happy place had moved on without me. And in some ways, I had moved on too. A lot has happened in the last year and a half and while the version of myself I left in Missoula was still me, I was afraid that maybe it was only a part of me I had lost and couldn't get back.

Then, as every Thursday around 6:00, the coffee shop transformed into a worship service and Kyle Smith delivered the Gospel to a crowd of eager Missoulians. Hearing him speak, I hung on every word, sat on the edge of my seat and realized, "Nope, it's still the same. Nothing's actually changed."

It's never been so real to me that we are created for relationships. And as a result, our happy places, the places we go when we need to return and remember a better version of ourselves and our reality, are not actually places at all. They're people. They're mentors, friends and family. Missoula itself is not my happy place, it's the people and heart of Zootown Church that carries the pieces of my heart I want to hold on to.

When Jacob dreamed of the ladder to heaven and received his covenant promise from God in Genesis 28, he set up a pillar to remember the spot so that later in chapter 35 when he was in a tough situation, he could go back and remember what God had done there. But even then, his hope was not in the place, it was in the person he encountered there. Granted, Jacob probably found hope in the memory triggered by seeing the pillar he had set up, but how much more hope did he find when God spoke to him? Notice in the beginning of Chapter 35 that it is God's voice, His reminder of His faithfulness, and His command to Jacob to go to Bethel that causes Jacob to cleanse his household of foreign gods, not the actual arrival at Bethel. In this story of Jacob, we can see that it is not revisiting happy places that necessarily ushers in hope, but rather the encounter with the ones we shared that happy place with. In other words, Jacob already has hope even before he gets to his happy place because he is reunited with the One who made it happy in the first place.

For me, Missoula changed. Store fronts evolved and the coffee shop replaced their comfy couches. But the people who touched my life there were still there and I could reach out to them at any time. But what do we do when the people who have touched our lives do change? When the hope we placed in a person is shattered by betrayal? When we text them and they don't respond or better yet, reveal an entirely different character? Well, there's always Jesus. Because just like Jacob, sometimes we have to go back to the places where we were afraid, uncertain and running scared to remember that that is where we encountered God, that He's the only person in the universe who gave us true peace, and that He doesn't change how He feels about us along the way.

Created for Something Special

Last week, a friend of mine brought up an excellent point that sums up a lot of why I do what I do. He pointed out that there are only 2 books of the Bible named for women: Ruth and Esther. And there is only one other book where women are equally as present as men: Song of Songs. "So why is it," he asked, "that in these three particular books, God is more absent than anywhere else in Scripture? In Ruth, He is mentioned only in dialogue, never as an active character. In Esther, He is never mentioned at all. And in Song of Songs, well, He's not exactly what we remember from that book..."

My immediate response to my friend was more abrupt than I expected. 
"Well, duh." I said, "That makes total sense."
"Why?" he asked. And this is what I told him.

I am 100% convinced that women feel the absence of God more keenly than men. Think about it. When two guys suddenly lose touch and don't talk for weeks, months, even years, for no apparent reason at all and then cross paths (at least in my experience) they immediately pick up where they left off and have almost no resentment about the silence. And when women observe this, it freaks us out. Granted, we have that girlfriend we haven't heard from since that wedding a few months ago and we can call her any time for a laugh, but let's be honest, women need consistent affirmation of relationship. Not necessarily constant, mind you, but at least consistent. And a man's ability to not need that is just plain strange.

Interestingly, it's the exact same situation with our relationships with God. I have known several men who have gone through a 'dry season' only to suddenly find God in an alley somewhere and magically be back where they were as though God never left. And I sit and wonder, how do they do that? For myself and many women I know, when we go through a season of silence or emptiness, the longer we're in it, the harder it is for us to get out. Our despair deepens exponentially the longer it lasts. But when we do make it out, everybody back up because this is huge!! There are tears, there's fireworks, there's laughing, and there's usually lots of hugs. And when we are reunited with our Prince of Peace it sets a fire in our souls. 

We see this in Hagar's experience in Genesis. After years of being viewed as nothing more than a slave and a pawn, after decades of serving an old woman who hates her only to be told that she must bear a son to this woman's husband, a son who, according to the law mind you, would not be considered her's, but her mistress's child. After all that, she flees into the desert and there, she meets God. In the midst of her desert, she meets Him. And that experience moves her so deeply that she, a woman and a slave, becomes the only person in history to give a name to the God of the Universe. And that name is El Roi, the God Who Sees Me. And you better believe He does. 

God made men and women, both in His image. I know that you know this in your very soul. Eve was the one to whom God gave the need for affirmation of relationship. Eve was the one to whom God entrusted that beautiful piece of Himself. Let me say this very clearly: women were created to especially miss God when He's not around. So, OF COURSE the books of the Bible that focus on women are going to be about...you guessed it...women who have survived that absence. Women who have overcome the desert. Women who have come face to face with their Maker and declared that He is El Roi. Because He knew we would need them to show us how it's done. It is good, indeed it is right that Hagar's should be our response as women, because we embody the very heart of God that demands to be desired. It's very simple really. The pieces of God's character that He gives to each one of us determine how we feel about and respond to what He says. 

For some perspective, let's consider what would have happened if instead of Hagar, a man had met God in the desert after a long absence. What would he do? After an incredible encounter with the God of the Universe, what would his response be? Well, the Bible is chalk full of these kinds of stories, so we actually know the answer. Granted, Noah has been surrounded by water, not sand, but after God saves him, Noah builds God an altar and kills a lot of animals on it. When God appears to Abram in Genesis 12, Abram builds an altar. Isaac builds an altar in Genesis 26 and Jacob builds one in Genesis 33. Moses builds an altar in Exodus 17 when the Amalekites are defeated. I could go on for awhile because the judges and kings of Israel were altar-crazy too, but I think you get the picture. When men encounter God and have victory in Him, they like to build things. This helps us understand why Peter wants to build three tabernacles after the Transfiguration.

Now, building monuments is not a bad way of remembering God's glory. I'm a history person, so I can say that. But the absolute worse thing that men in the church can do to women is give the impression that building a tabernacle is a better response than being in intimate relationship with God. Remember earlier when I said that a man's ability to not need consistent affirmation of relationship is strange to us women? I meant it. Because we need it. And needing that does not make us needy. It makes us the caretakers of that special piece of God's heart that demands deep, right relationship. 

Ok, let me wrap this up. The worst thing a Christian man can do to a woman is give the impression that he bears God's image more than a woman. By the same token, the worst thing a Christian woman can do to a man is the exact same thing. Personally, as a woman, I don't feel that I have any authority to comment on what part of God causes men to respond and be in relationship with Him the way that they do. But, I do feel that as a woman, I can definitely speak to other women about what pieces of God affect our hearts towards Him, His Word and where He's placed us in His world. This is why I have agreed to join a writing team for another blog called ChristianPig, operated by a good friend of mine named Justin Hartford in Tacoma, Washington. Feel free to check out the website, christianpig.com. I'm very excited about this, but that being said, this is the only time I'm going to mention it on Eat. Pray. Plank. because this is still our space. What I'm writing for ChristianPig will not be all that different from what I write here, but I consider this a special platform where women especially can find grace, truth, and hope for who they are created to be in Christ. I know it has definitely given that hope to me and I pray that you have received a bit of it too.

Responsible Platforms

Social media gives us a lot of different avenues and outlets for expressing ourselves.

We can portray ourselves as all manner of political, spiritual, creative or intellectual. We can emphasize our job, our kids, our community involvement or all three. We can show the world a version of ourselves that may or may not be authentic, but more than likely, we will make sure it's a version others will like.

I've been struggling this weekend with people asking me to 'explain myself' through social media outlets. I've been asked to write an online bio for another blog I'll be writing for soon (more on that later), submit a cover letter explaining my passion for a potential job offer, and share my thoughts on the structure of my church's young adults gathering via an online survey. Most of these are not writing prompts that require a 10 page response, but I could definitely give each of them at least that much if they let me. 

Cramming all the thoughts, passions and goals of my 5'6" self into 250 words or less is difficult. I'd rather just talk to someone. Even if I only said 250 words, at least they would hear the eagerness in my voice, see the anticipation in my eyes, maybe even feel the motivation in my handshake. But alas, Eat. Pray. Plank, Facebook and Twitter are my platforms and I must find a way to convey all of this into something you can try to understand in only a few minutes. No pressure.

My plight is not an uncommon one. Political bloggers, foodies, pastors, people who work for advertising at United Airlines and Donald Trump all try to achieve a similar level of transference in just a few moments of your time. Some do this very well. Others should just stop. I won't name names for either category, but I will say that as our world becomes increasingly instant, we have to be on the lookout for responsible platforms and realize that they take time to establish. 

Let me explain. In my Religious Epistemology class (a one-night-a-week gathering where we discussed how we know what we know about religion and constantly asked, Are you sure?), we explored the characteristics of a Responsible Christian, an Irresponsible Christian, a Responsible Atheist and an Irresponsible Atheist. Responsible Christians and Atheists know why they are Christians and Atheists and if you ask, they can tell you. You might not like it, but they'll be able to give you a reason that, hopefully, is at least structurally sound. Irresponsible ones...well, they get caught up in a 'cause' and don't know why. They tend to be sheep following a blind shepherd and this is why political campaign managers like to share videos on Twitter of Irresponsible Voters who favor their opponent. By showing that their opponent's followers are dumb, they can somehow prove that their opponent is also dumb. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn't. 

The point is, we all have an opportunity to be Responsible or Irresponsible (fill in the blank)s. Christians, moms, feminists, accountants, cat lovers. Each of us has the opportunity, wherever we are and whatever we're doing in life, to be able to back up why we do what we do OR to defend our merely surface-level existence with 'just because'. I have friends on Facebook who have been posting some articles lately that I fundamentally disagree with, but I rejoice that they express themselves on a Responsible Platform, not a foundation of sand. I'd prefer coffee with a Responsible Socialist friend over an Irresponsible Evangelical any day of the week.

If you take nothing else away from this post, understand that being a Responsible (fill in the blank) takes time. There's a reason that successful businesswomen take the time to get an MBA, that engaged couples go through marriage counselling and that following a recipe requires prep time. And it's not unlike the reason that Jesus didn't start His ministry until He was 33. If you're trying to start something, trying to be someone, trying to go somewhere, take the time to make sure you're putting your best foot forward and do not let the necessary process burn you out. If you're wondering what to do and how to express yourself during that process, I would say to simply be honest. Because an Irresponsible Christian does about as much good for the Kingdom of God as a Responsible Atheist, but I would argue that an Honest Christian is closest to the heart of God.

The Long Haul

It's Lent already. Wasn't I just writing about Advent? How the time flies. I was baptized on Palm Sunday of 2014 so Holy Week is a big anniversary for me. It's always a really happy time at the beginning of the week, but by the end of it, it's the worst week of the year. Seriously. Good Friday, every single year, is the worst night of my year. There's no comparison. Unfortunately, it's also (usually) the most intimate conversation I have with Jesus all year, so each year I spend Lent preparing for that fateful conversation at the foot of the Cross.

This tradition of talking to my crucified Christ began when I was a junior in high school. Pastor Trey gave us all red paint brushes at the Good Friday service and during the last song, we each went to the altar and painted a giant red streak on the white sheet draped over the cross. By the end of the service, there was no white left. It was a really humbling moment. After the church was mostly empty, I went back up to the altar, sat down under the cross and wrapped my arms around that red sheet. I got covered in paint but I hardly noticed. If there was ever a moment that I believe I wept bitterly, that was it. I can't remember what was going on in my life to cause such an emotional response to the Cross, but I do remember that sitting there, I promised my Jesus I would always come back to the foot of the Cross every Good Friday. Like the women who followed Him all the way to Cavalry, I would be there no matter what kind of shape I was in, every year. And most importantly, I would allow myself to completely drown in the sorrow and despair of His crucifixion. Every year. Once a year. On Good Friday.

And that's pretty much how it's been every Holy Week since. It's painful, it's horrible, it's ugly cry face on steroids. But each year, I let my heart and soul open up and completely give in to all manner of pain and sorrow that comes with the death of my Jesus. Some years, I have no words; others I have quite a lot. Last year, there was a very serious moment where I all but shouted that He should just come down, it wasn't worth it. And even today I can hear His still small voice saying, "No, dear one. I want to do this." And then, like a candle being blown out, He was gone. And in the middle of a deathly silent Catholic church, my whisper penetrated like a pin dropping. Jesus, come back. 

As I'm getting closer to this year's Holy Week, I've been preparing for my annual encounter with Jesus at the Cross. What is it going to look like this year? It dawned on me recently that it might be even uglier this year because I think my life (my behavior, at least) is in a much darker place than it was last year. I've been trying to 'fix' certain things about myself. Trying to be a better Christian. Trying to be a better friend. Feeling like I've failed at both. Today I had the picture in my mind of returning to my place at the Cross and saying, Well, Jesus. I'm back. And I'm actually in worse shape than last year.

But today at church I was reminded that Righteousness, Holiness and Redemption are not things I strive for, they are a person. When I strive for righteousness on my own, that is not the righteousness of Christ, but self-righteousness. I am trying so very hard to make myself better, to make it work, but Philippians 3:8-9 tells us that righteousness comes only from God on the basis of faith, faith that also happens to come only from God. This tells me that righteousness and redemption are not achieved, they are given, granted and become slowly integrated into my life when my faith (the faith He gives me) sticks around for the long haul. In this way, righteousness can often involve a lot of waiting.

So why am I surprised that I'm in not much better shape this year than I was last year? This is why the Bible says to fix our eyes on Jesus and that He is the author and perfecter of our faith. Both of these phrases imply a process. Sanctification, to my chagrin, does not happen overnight. If fixing my eyes on Jesus is a process and His perfecting my faith is a process, why in the world, in fact how dare I demand that He take care of my struggles as of yesterday? This is not going to be a sprint right out of the gate; it's going to demand a steady pace over a great distance. That's why Hebrews 12 tells us to run the race marked out for us with perseverance. If it was only 100 yards, it wouldn't require much perseverance, now would it?

So if anybody else is going through Lent hoping to become a 'better person' between now and Holy Week, just stop. You can't make yourself better. Only Jesus can. And it takes time. Sometimes a lot. And if come Good Friday, you and I find ourselves at the foot of the Cross in the exact same emotional and spiritual place that we were last year, that is okay. If we're in even worse shape than we were last year, that is okay, too. Because as long as we keep faithfully returning to the foot of the Cross, we are exactly where we were created to be and who we were created to be with, regardless of what we see in the mirror.