I recently read an article entitled "Free-Range Parenting Is A Privilege For The White And Affluent". I'd never heard of free-range parenting before. It sounds a lot like free-range chickens or pigs or something like that. Admittedly, at first I just couldn't get past the "free-range" part. The metaphor paints a hilarious picture in my mind of children running amuck in the neighborhood and the mom trying to herd them back for supper, enticing them with corn meal. I guess kids can be animals sometimes. After some research I found out that free-range parenting refers to the philosophy and practice of letting your child roam and romp about on their own in accordance to their ability and maturity levels, somewhat the opposite of helicopter-parenting, as another article put it. Apparently kids could do that at one point in time, like back in the 70s. Minus the corn meal. Way before my time.
Then I struggled with the rest of the title. "Privilege" is such a buzz word these days. It seems like all one has to do is throw up the word "privilege" and it will immediately evoke sympathy in the audience. Sort of like a special power in a Pokemon battle or something. Like, blogger pulls the victim of privilege card, it is effective! (I think? I'm not sure how Pokemon works.) Whenever I read "privilege", I cringe because I feel like the writer is utilizing a narrative power-up of sorts to rhetorically lure me into the aforementioned state of sympathy. Your tricks don't work on me, I'm an English major. Then there's the "white" and "affluent" part. Those darn white and affluent people. I kinda feel bad for the white people, the affluent people, and especially the white AND affluent people. They can't catch a break. And real quick, what about the black and affluent people? Do they get to free-range-parent too, or nah? But I digress; I'm getting ahead of myself.
After I read the article over (twice) my head hurt from all the whining the author spewed into her little corner of the interwebs. Because that's all her writing is. Her arguments aren't arguments, they're complaints.The bottom line seemed to be "I'm poor so my child can't go wherever she wants because the police will think I'm a crappy mother because I let my child wander about in a crime-prone area of town. And it would be even worse if we were black."
Stop. Just stop.
I grew up in a (half) white middle-class household in a neighborhood which gave me a unique socio-economic, socio-geographic (if that's a thing) perspective. At one end of the neighborhood, there lived a judge in the kind of house a judge could afford. At the other end were houses folks with humbler salaries could afford. We lived in the middle, in more ways than one. Smack behind my backyard was a country club golf course. Dad benefited from all the golf balls that found their way into our yard. Three streets down was a group of apartment complexes that myself and my brother were not allowed to go to. As a matter of fact, we were not allowed to go out past our own street. Mom did what responsible parents do: establish boundaries appropriate to the environment and our maturity.
I think that's what the real free-range parent mantra is after: RESPONSIBLE independence. I read free-ranger Lenore Skenazy's FAQ section explaining her justification for letting her nine-year old son ride home on the subway in New York by himself. He had been begging for the independence, was well-equipped with a map, quarters, and street smarts, and made it home safe and sound. Contrast that with Nicole Gainey, whose case free-rangeless parent blogger bemoaned. Nicole Gainey was charged with a felony for letting her child play in the park alone, in a park with recent crime activity and known sexual offenders nearby. The child was no stranger to the park and had a cellphone, but panicked and ran away when a concerned citizen inquired to the whereabouts of his mother. Am I missing something? There was recent crime activity. The child spazzed, which could easily suggest a lack of maturity or ability to be out and about alone. What was the citizen supposed to think? I must say, given the evidence and story I read, I disagree with the felony verdict, but a slap on the wrist of some kind, or at least a reassessment of the child's ability to be out alone sounds reasonable.
Free-rangeless parent blogger wants to free-range parent, but she claims her problem is the stigma surrounding low-income people causes such a decision to fall under greater scrutiny than, say, a white affluent person. To which I say OF COURSE IT'S GOING TO FALL UNDER SCRUTINY. The scrutiny isn't personal, the scrutiny is a result of your geographic area, the crime that comes with it, and yes, your socio-economic status. Free-range parenting (as I understand it) demands risk assessment, risk acceptance, and risk mitigation. There is a lot more risk in a low-income, crime-prone part of town than a higher income, less crime-prone part of town. If you want to give your daughter more independence, move to a safer part of town. Safer doesn't have to mean more expensive. I live in a trailer park and feel safer than I did in my childhood neighborhood.
It would be great if everyone everywhere could do anything they wanted. That, unfortunately, is not the world we live in. And when it comes to being responsible for little human beings that I brought into world, whose lives I was entrusted with, you can be damn sure their safety comes before my desired parenting philosophy. If I were in this blogger's shoes and deemed the area unsafe, I'd change my environment. If I deemed it safe, I'd let my daughter walk two blocks and back. (She lives in Montana, I don't know how unsafe Montana can really be?) And I think blogger parent would agree.
My problem is the fact that she whines about it. Whining offends my sensibilities. It's not really something to whine about. Free-range parenting isn't for the privileged, white, and affluent, it's for those who have responsibly mitigated risk. Yes, safer neighborhoods have it easier. Perhaps, mostly white and affluent people live in safer neighborhoods. But regardless, I wouldn't cry on the internet because of a stigma which, in more cases than she would like to admit, is reasonable. My child's safety supersedes my philosophical desires.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Gracie Child
In my alternate reality, I would have realized the full extent of
my love for ju-jitsu. I would have completely devoted myself to training
under my teacher, supporting myself by working for some burger joint,
slapping patties on a grill. After a few years of training and stuffing
away cash, I would have moved to sunny, salty Torrance, California to
train under the infamous Rorion Gracie in ju-jitsu heaven, more formally
known as the Gracie Academy. Then, throughout my rigorous, devoted
years of training, I would travel around the coasts, competing against
the finest female ju-jitsu players America has to offer, enjoying every
passing second of community and glory. All the while supporting myself
by slapping more patties, of course.
Yes, what a life. But alas, instead I am sitting here, desperately trudging through this blasted Spanish book, trying to not only understand the text, but understand what the homework assignment questions are actually asking.
Well. Eventually I’ll finish this assignment. I have to. Ju-Jitsu heaven awaits.
Yes, what a life. But alas, instead I am sitting here, desperately trudging through this blasted Spanish book, trying to not only understand the text, but understand what the homework assignment questions are actually asking.
Well. Eventually I’ll finish this assignment. I have to. Ju-Jitsu heaven awaits.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
social cues
I struggly, I try, but I just can't seem
to get it right.
It never came easy, this social thing.
Why are there so many rules? Why can't I just be me and you be you?
I say "hi", you say "hi", I say
"We can get along, be friends."
But no.
Too many cues, too many pauses, waits, speak,
no wait..
still pause.
Oh well.
One day I won't make a fool of myself.
to get it right.
It never came easy, this social thing.
Why are there so many rules? Why can't I just be me and you be you?
I say "hi", you say "hi", I say
"We can get along, be friends."
But no.
Too many cues, too many pauses, waits, speak,
no wait..
still pause.
Oh well.
One day I won't make a fool of myself.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Mom said "no"
Recently I read an article regarding Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt's daughter, Shiloh, who asked her mother that she be referred to by the name "John". Her parents have agreed, and look at this situation as an oppurtunity for their daughter to explore living as a gender other than which she was born. As I read the rest of the article, I remembered a time in my life where I too struggled with gender identity. I had almost forgotten it. It's somewhat embarassing, I don't know how common or not this issue is. But at any rate, I want to weigh in with my opinion.
When I was very young, I never really took to dolls and dresses. Santa brought me a Barbie for Christmas once, but I didn't play with it near as often as I played with toy guns and the outdoors. Many (including myself) attributed this to just being a tomboy, a girl who likes to do boy things. The defintion is not entirely untrue. But it seems to me that while many fellow tomboys like rolling around in the mud, they just as easily switch back to being a normal girl. I couldn't, or at least found it extremely difficult.
On more than one occassion, I'd wonder if God made a mistake when he made me a girl. Every other girl I knew loved pink and clothes. Not only did I not share these likes, I felt uncomfortable around them. I felt like there was something wrong with me, like I was a boy in a girl's body. Surely God meant to make me a boy.
These thoughts came in waves as I grew up. I'd try to do the girl thing, but fail and become more and more resentful of being one. I didn't get makeup, or clothes, or style, or discussion. Night after night I'd accuse God of making me wrong. Eventually, I'd wear girl clothes to church and boy clothes everywhere else. I felt more comfortable in the boy clothes, and I wished even harder that I was a boy. Instead of wearing mismatched blouses and slacks, I wished I were wearing a suit and tie. I was so unhappy with myself.
Finally, I decided that if I couldn't be an actual boy, I'd at least be one at home. Like Shiloh, I asked my mom if she could call me a boy name. But unlike Angelina Jolie, my mom said no. I was none too happy about that. I sulked and complained to God, again. She'd never understand, I thought. She didn't know it was like, how much it hurt to not fit in, to not be what it felt like I really was. Not an ounce of me wanted to be a girl.
One night changed me forever, albeit not all at once. As usual, I was lamenting of how upset I was, how God had made a mistake. But that night, God answered me, and I was quieted. I don't know how, but in the middle of my laments, I realized a simple truth: God doesn't make mistakes. He knew exactly what He was doing when He made me a girl. Before the foundations of the world were layed, He wanted me to be a girl for some purpose. This humbled me deeply. My whole life up to that point had been spent striving against God on account of my gender. I had just known that I was right and He was wrong. But that night I surrenderred the fight. I was a girl, plain and simple, for some beautiful, pefect, God-ordained reason.
Life didn't get much easier, and I really didn't get any girlier right after that. The only thing that really changed was my attitude. I was more receptive to trying. Gradually though, my wardrobe changed and I acquired makeup here and there. The girl thing slowly became easier.
Today, I still work hard at figuring out the girl thing. My wardrobe still lacks, my makeup bag is scarce, and small talk still frightens me. But I'm getting better at what God made me to be, and am finally developing a legitmate interest in developing my femininity. Going to a military college has given me the added challenge of developing strength and grace simultaneously, but I'm loving it. By God's grace, I legitmately like being a daughter, a girlfriend, a woman.
As I watch the world tell its daughters it's OK to be a boy if you really want, I cringe. I don't cringe out of some higher sense of morality, but because I was that daughter. Every ounce of my being wanted to be something I wasn't. Today I have found fulfillment in being what I was made to be, and I wish any girl struggling as I did would realize this. We have specific reasons for being here, and God saw it fit that we should fulfill them as girls, as women, not as boys and men. He blessed me with a mom who recognized this, and honestly, kept me from going down an unfulfilling road. When I asked her to recognize me as something other than what God had perfectly made, she said no. And I thank her for it.
When I was very young, I never really took to dolls and dresses. Santa brought me a Barbie for Christmas once, but I didn't play with it near as often as I played with toy guns and the outdoors. Many (including myself) attributed this to just being a tomboy, a girl who likes to do boy things. The defintion is not entirely untrue. But it seems to me that while many fellow tomboys like rolling around in the mud, they just as easily switch back to being a normal girl. I couldn't, or at least found it extremely difficult.
On more than one occassion, I'd wonder if God made a mistake when he made me a girl. Every other girl I knew loved pink and clothes. Not only did I not share these likes, I felt uncomfortable around them. I felt like there was something wrong with me, like I was a boy in a girl's body. Surely God meant to make me a boy.
These thoughts came in waves as I grew up. I'd try to do the girl thing, but fail and become more and more resentful of being one. I didn't get makeup, or clothes, or style, or discussion. Night after night I'd accuse God of making me wrong. Eventually, I'd wear girl clothes to church and boy clothes everywhere else. I felt more comfortable in the boy clothes, and I wished even harder that I was a boy. Instead of wearing mismatched blouses and slacks, I wished I were wearing a suit and tie. I was so unhappy with myself.
Finally, I decided that if I couldn't be an actual boy, I'd at least be one at home. Like Shiloh, I asked my mom if she could call me a boy name. But unlike Angelina Jolie, my mom said no. I was none too happy about that. I sulked and complained to God, again. She'd never understand, I thought. She didn't know it was like, how much it hurt to not fit in, to not be what it felt like I really was. Not an ounce of me wanted to be a girl.
One night changed me forever, albeit not all at once. As usual, I was lamenting of how upset I was, how God had made a mistake. But that night, God answered me, and I was quieted. I don't know how, but in the middle of my laments, I realized a simple truth: God doesn't make mistakes. He knew exactly what He was doing when He made me a girl. Before the foundations of the world were layed, He wanted me to be a girl for some purpose. This humbled me deeply. My whole life up to that point had been spent striving against God on account of my gender. I had just known that I was right and He was wrong. But that night I surrenderred the fight. I was a girl, plain and simple, for some beautiful, pefect, God-ordained reason.
Life didn't get much easier, and I really didn't get any girlier right after that. The only thing that really changed was my attitude. I was more receptive to trying. Gradually though, my wardrobe changed and I acquired makeup here and there. The girl thing slowly became easier.
Today, I still work hard at figuring out the girl thing. My wardrobe still lacks, my makeup bag is scarce, and small talk still frightens me. But I'm getting better at what God made me to be, and am finally developing a legitmate interest in developing my femininity. Going to a military college has given me the added challenge of developing strength and grace simultaneously, but I'm loving it. By God's grace, I legitmately like being a daughter, a girlfriend, a woman.
As I watch the world tell its daughters it's OK to be a boy if you really want, I cringe. I don't cringe out of some higher sense of morality, but because I was that daughter. Every ounce of my being wanted to be something I wasn't. Today I have found fulfillment in being what I was made to be, and I wish any girl struggling as I did would realize this. We have specific reasons for being here, and God saw it fit that we should fulfill them as girls, as women, not as boys and men. He blessed me with a mom who recognized this, and honestly, kept me from going down an unfulfilling road. When I asked her to recognize me as something other than what God had perfectly made, she said no. And I thank her for it.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
No more
I'm done with cultured Christianity. Or whatever Christianity I grew up with.
Because it told people they're free in Christ but purses its lips at their bikinis and tattoos.
Because it tells the visiting gay couple in its church they must change, but says nothing to the hundreds of obese members, slandering members, and lying members.
Because it told me that model Christian women are quiet and gentle, but those who are loud, strong, and challenge the status quo are strange and not accepted in the circle.
Because it accepts "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth", but not "...the water had become wine."
Because it uses emotion-charged messages and presentations to guilt, intimidate, and otherwise coerce people into making spiritual decisions.
Because it says Catholics aren't real Christians, yet Protestants boast their own ability to interpret scripture for themselves, leading to several "Spirit-inspired conclusions".
Because anything less than a vocation in "Christian service" is not as cool.
Because following Jesus is a catchprase and a pretty thing to hang on your wall at home and on your car instead of a lifestyle and mindset.
Because in too many places of worship, somber, purposeful worship has been nearly obliterated and replaced with distracting, concert-like productions.
Because four letter words are not tolerated, but cliques, establishments, and saved seats are.
I am convinced that true Christianity is anything but peaceful and proper or cool. Most of the time, it's difficult, complex, weird, and messy. At least this has been my experience. Life doesn't fit into boxes, or black and white, or lines and space. To be fair, not all Christian communities match what I previously described. Rather, the vibe that I described is one I have to internally fight. That I'm not a good Christian unless I ascribe to that unspoken creed, or culture, or norm, or whatever it is. No more. I'm ready for the real thing.
Because it told people they're free in Christ but purses its lips at their bikinis and tattoos.
Because it tells the visiting gay couple in its church they must change, but says nothing to the hundreds of obese members, slandering members, and lying members.
Because it told me that model Christian women are quiet and gentle, but those who are loud, strong, and challenge the status quo are strange and not accepted in the circle.
Because it accepts "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth", but not "...the water had become wine."
Because it uses emotion-charged messages and presentations to guilt, intimidate, and otherwise coerce people into making spiritual decisions.
Because it says Catholics aren't real Christians, yet Protestants boast their own ability to interpret scripture for themselves, leading to several "Spirit-inspired conclusions".
Because anything less than a vocation in "Christian service" is not as cool.
Because following Jesus is a catchprase and a pretty thing to hang on your wall at home and on your car instead of a lifestyle and mindset.
Because in too many places of worship, somber, purposeful worship has been nearly obliterated and replaced with distracting, concert-like productions.
Because four letter words are not tolerated, but cliques, establishments, and saved seats are.
I am convinced that true Christianity is anything but peaceful and proper or cool. Most of the time, it's difficult, complex, weird, and messy. At least this has been my experience. Life doesn't fit into boxes, or black and white, or lines and space. To be fair, not all Christian communities match what I previously described. Rather, the vibe that I described is one I have to internally fight. That I'm not a good Christian unless I ascribe to that unspoken creed, or culture, or norm, or whatever it is. No more. I'm ready for the real thing.
Forgive me
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
When I decide I know what is better.
When I desire the praise of others, before You.
When I ignore Your hands, holding me.
When I reject Your lips, Your words.
When I push You away.
Every day.
Forgive me Father, for I am a sinner.
When I decide I know what is better.
When I desire the praise of others, before You.
When I ignore Your hands, holding me.
When I reject Your lips, Your words.
When I push You away.
Every day.
Forgive me Father, for I am a sinner.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Music choice
I'm sorry, but is it a crime for a Christian to like secular songs equally or sometimes more than "Christian" songs? Can I help it if at times I prefer the aggressive, moving rhythm of T.I, CCR, Usher, etc. to the highly predictable chord progression of most modern worship songs out there today? Like seriously, I can turn into your local Christian radio station and just about predict how the music will go. And sometimes, I'm really not in the mood to listening to lovely, sweet, encouraging, uplifting, whatever. I'm not fooling anyone, least of all myself--those nice lyrics about "raising my hands" and "looking to You"--not what I feel like right now. I do sometimes, and sometimes I want to force myself to that mood. When I do, I'm all about that Tenth Avenue North and the Newsboys. But every other moment, I'm not about to lie with my listening preferences by doing the whole "wholesome music only" thing.
Thank you middle and high school sunday school for your valuable lessons, advice, and teachings on Biblical worldviews, mindsets, and especially, liberty. I think I'll take that liberty now, and crank my Jane's Addiction without shame.
Thank you middle and high school sunday school for your valuable lessons, advice, and teachings on Biblical worldviews, mindsets, and especially, liberty. I think I'll take that liberty now, and crank my Jane's Addiction without shame.
Friday, March 21, 2014
The Beiber complex
Back in the day when Justin Beiber was cute and innocent, I said I hated him. Well, I hated his sissy-ness, and I know I'm not the only girl (or guy). But in the closet of my mp3 player, I had a couple of his songs that I particularly appreciated. Why? Because despite his too-sweet-for-real-life eyes and hairdo that I despised, there were elements of the message in his lyrics that tugged at my 16-year old heartstrings, as I am sure it did for other closet Beliebers. And despite my still-withstanding dislike of the fellow, I still find myself nodding along to (some of) his tunes, half in disbelief that I do.
The reason I do this is a reason I believe most girls share, and it would behoove my male Bieber-hater contemporaries to pay attention to that magical concoction of wooing words that drives many girls wild, if they are seeking guidance in the subject.
Honestly, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise. What do girls crave the most? Security, emotional and physical. Validation. To feel special and unique. And they want this from a guy, possibly, hopefully, a good-looking guy. What do you find in Justin Beiber's songs? "I saw so many pretty faces, now all I see is you," "There's gonna be one less lonely girl," "I'll be your silver, I'll be your gold," "I'll be your soldier, fighting every second of the day for your dreams," etc..
These desires at the very core of every girl on the planet. I don't care how tough she is--it's ingrained in our very DNA. We don't just want to be the object of your gratification, not just the trophy on your arm that you passively show off to the guys. We want you to genuinely care for, fight for, and treasure us, as we want to do for you.
The reason I do this is a reason I believe most girls share, and it would behoove my male Bieber-hater contemporaries to pay attention to that magical concoction of wooing words that drives many girls wild, if they are seeking guidance in the subject.
Honestly, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise. What do girls crave the most? Security, emotional and physical. Validation. To feel special and unique. And they want this from a guy, possibly, hopefully, a good-looking guy. What do you find in Justin Beiber's songs? "I saw so many pretty faces, now all I see is you," "There's gonna be one less lonely girl," "I'll be your silver, I'll be your gold," "I'll be your soldier, fighting every second of the day for your dreams," etc..
These desires at the very core of every girl on the planet. I don't care how tough she is--it's ingrained in our very DNA. We don't just want to be the object of your gratification, not just the trophy on your arm that you passively show off to the guys. We want you to genuinely care for, fight for, and treasure us, as we want to do for you.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Heritage
After viewing this video on facebook of a 90+ year old tatted badass lady in the Philippines, I find myself dealing with a surge of interest and obsession with the Filipino culture. Her story told of her solace and comfort in the simple trade of making tattoos and etching ink into her countrymen. As the ink and flesh mingled together, so did her life and her client's. Somehow, through practicing her skill she connected with others, filling a void after losing her boyfriend to the Japanese occupation back in World War 2.
I myself also found a solace of sorts, but not through getting tatted. The video shows the inhabitants in her village, and I felt as though I could relate more to those people than to the culture in which I grew up my entire life. I am only half Filipino and I have never been to the Philippines, but I saw, for the first time other than my extended family, people who were my size, shape, and build. Here in the US, I often lament of how tiny I am compared to most others. But I see now that if I were to travel to the Philippines to meet my distant relatives, I would fit in perfectly, perhaps even tower them slightly. On a deeper level, I saw in her eyes the spirit that reminds me of my own great-grandmother. Sadly I was never able to get to know her personally, but that which I've heard of her lets me know where I got my feisty side from. My great-grandmother and the tattoo master share a similar look in their eyes--a look of quiet, humble strength, a strength that doesn't feel the need to laud itself or put itself on display as is so prominent here in America. They were so small in stature, but the gentle ferocity deep within them more than compensated. This brought me comfort.
When I consider the modern day Philippines, I think of a manipulative, self-serving government, a confused culture trying to kiss tail with the rest of the world, poverty, and Filipino mail-order brides. I refuse to believe that this is what I descended from. No. I, along with the rest of them, descended from people like the tattoo master, who were warriors of the jungle laden mountains, resisting the Spanish and the Japanese, striving to preserve their culture and identity, and empowering others through their struggles and triumphs. To be sure, there had to have been many aspects of this culture that were less than appealing, or even morally challenging. But all cultures have sore spots and blotches in their histories, and this culture is no different. May we discover and remember who we are, appreciate its good, and learn from its imperfections.
I myself also found a solace of sorts, but not through getting tatted. The video shows the inhabitants in her village, and I felt as though I could relate more to those people than to the culture in which I grew up my entire life. I am only half Filipino and I have never been to the Philippines, but I saw, for the first time other than my extended family, people who were my size, shape, and build. Here in the US, I often lament of how tiny I am compared to most others. But I see now that if I were to travel to the Philippines to meet my distant relatives, I would fit in perfectly, perhaps even tower them slightly. On a deeper level, I saw in her eyes the spirit that reminds me of my own great-grandmother. Sadly I was never able to get to know her personally, but that which I've heard of her lets me know where I got my feisty side from. My great-grandmother and the tattoo master share a similar look in their eyes--a look of quiet, humble strength, a strength that doesn't feel the need to laud itself or put itself on display as is so prominent here in America. They were so small in stature, but the gentle ferocity deep within them more than compensated. This brought me comfort.
When I consider the modern day Philippines, I think of a manipulative, self-serving government, a confused culture trying to kiss tail with the rest of the world, poverty, and Filipino mail-order brides. I refuse to believe that this is what I descended from. No. I, along with the rest of them, descended from people like the tattoo master, who were warriors of the jungle laden mountains, resisting the Spanish and the Japanese, striving to preserve their culture and identity, and empowering others through their struggles and triumphs. To be sure, there had to have been many aspects of this culture that were less than appealing, or even morally challenging. But all cultures have sore spots and blotches in their histories, and this culture is no different. May we discover and remember who we are, appreciate its good, and learn from its imperfections.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Mini battle
Just a quick blurb. Sometimes I wonder why Christians place such a huge emphasis on not saying bad words. I realize the implications and commands behind how we are to speak to one another and of the power of words. And I believe that there are many occasions in which foul language is inappropriate. But it seems possible and quite probable that there are truly times and places for such language.
I will admit that my language has drifted farther away from PG than I would have ever anticipated. Oops. It happens sometimes when you go to a military school. Interestingly enough, I find that since becoming more comfortable being around words I used to shy away from, I'm more tolerant to many other stigmas. Take that as you wish, whether it be that I'm now insensitive to "worldly things" or more capable of relating to the world outside the comfortable Christian culture bubble I grew up in. Maybe it's both.
I will admit that my language has drifted farther away from PG than I would have ever anticipated. Oops. It happens sometimes when you go to a military school. Interestingly enough, I find that since becoming more comfortable being around words I used to shy away from, I'm more tolerant to many other stigmas. Take that as you wish, whether it be that I'm now insensitive to "worldly things" or more capable of relating to the world outside the comfortable Christian culture bubble I grew up in. Maybe it's both.
Friday, February 14, 2014
What girls want their dads to know
Found this on someone's facebook page. What little girls want their dads to know:
1. How you love me is how I will love myself.
2. Ask how I am feeling and listen to my answer, I need to know you value me before I can understand my true value.
3. I learn how I should be treated by how you treat my mom, whether you are married to her or not.
4. If you are angry with me, I feel it even if I don't understand it, so talk to me.
5. Every time you show grace to me or someone else, I learn to trust God a little more.
6. I need to experience your nurturing physical strength, so I learn to trust the physicality of men.
7. Please don't talk about sex like a teenage boy, or I think it's something dirty.
8. When your tone is gentle, I understand what you are saying much better.
9. How you talk about female bodies when you're "just joking" is what I believe about my own.
10. How you handle my heart, is how I will allow it to be handled by others.
11. If you encourage me to find what brings joy, I will always seek it.
12. If you teach me what safe feels like when I'm with you, I will know better how to guard myself from men who are not.
13. Teach me a love of art, science, and nature, and I will learn that intellect matters more than dress size.
14. Let me say exactly what I want even if it's wrong or silly, because I need to know having a strong voice is acceptable to you.
15. When I get older, if you seem afraid of my changing body, I will believe something is wrong with it.
16. If you understand contentment for yourself, so will I.
17. When I ask you to let go, please remain available; I will always come back and need you if you do.
18. If you demonstrate tenderness, I learn to embrace my own vulnerability rather than fear it.
19. When you let me help fix the car and paint the house, I will believe I can do anything a boy can do.
20. When you protect my femininity, I learn everything about me is worthy of protecting.
21. How you treat our dog when you think I'm not watching tells me more about you than does just about anything else.
22. Don't let money be everything, or I learn not to respect it or you.
23. Hug, hold, and kiss me in all the ways a daddy does that are right and good and pure. I need it so much to understand healthy touch.
24. Please don't lie, because I believe what you say.
25. Don't avoid hard conversations, because it makes me believe I'm not worth fighting for.
1. How you love me is how I will love myself.
2. Ask how I am feeling and listen to my answer, I need to know you value me before I can understand my true value.
3. I learn how I should be treated by how you treat my mom, whether you are married to her or not.
4. If you are angry with me, I feel it even if I don't understand it, so talk to me.
5. Every time you show grace to me or someone else, I learn to trust God a little more.
6. I need to experience your nurturing physical strength, so I learn to trust the physicality of men.
7. Please don't talk about sex like a teenage boy, or I think it's something dirty.
8. When your tone is gentle, I understand what you are saying much better.
9. How you talk about female bodies when you're "just joking" is what I believe about my own.
10. How you handle my heart, is how I will allow it to be handled by others.
11. If you encourage me to find what brings joy, I will always seek it.
12. If you teach me what safe feels like when I'm with you, I will know better how to guard myself from men who are not.
13. Teach me a love of art, science, and nature, and I will learn that intellect matters more than dress size.
14. Let me say exactly what I want even if it's wrong or silly, because I need to know having a strong voice is acceptable to you.
15. When I get older, if you seem afraid of my changing body, I will believe something is wrong with it.
16. If you understand contentment for yourself, so will I.
17. When I ask you to let go, please remain available; I will always come back and need you if you do.
18. If you demonstrate tenderness, I learn to embrace my own vulnerability rather than fear it.
19. When you let me help fix the car and paint the house, I will believe I can do anything a boy can do.
20. When you protect my femininity, I learn everything about me is worthy of protecting.
21. How you treat our dog when you think I'm not watching tells me more about you than does just about anything else.
22. Don't let money be everything, or I learn not to respect it or you.
23. Hug, hold, and kiss me in all the ways a daddy does that are right and good and pure. I need it so much to understand healthy touch.
24. Please don't lie, because I believe what you say.
25. Don't avoid hard conversations, because it makes me believe I'm not worth fighting for.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Redefining "Bible study"
These past couple of weeks, I have found myself completely redefining that which I call "Bible study".
Bible study used to mean a period of time where a group of high school or middle school students would get together at someone's house, talk and be jovial, eat something (cause hey...that's what Baptists do), read a passage in scripture and talk about it, then talk (and eat) some more. The facilitator might pass out study sheets with questions relating to the passage, with space to write answers in. Everything was so organized. The format was like a cookie cutter to be used over and over week after week. Most of the time the topics were common, and the answers to the "study" were mostly predictable. I always went into the night thinking "Well, I wonder with what spin or different angle we'll look at subject x this time."
I'm not at all trying to crash or criticize those experiences. I did enjoy the fellowship, the discussions, and especially the food. And there were plenty of meetings where I did come away with something. But as of late, the experiences I've had with a friend of mine where we scour the Bible inside out for answers to real, honest questions that we actually don't know how to answer has both stretched my faith and redefined the term "Bible study" for me.
The types of questions we have and the answers we seek are ones that lie at the very heart of our doctrines--for me, Protestant, and for my friend, Catholic. Tiny, minute differences in the wordings in the statements of our faiths affect we believe about the same God and how we respond to Him. We go into our times of study with our own assumptions, but literally no idea where all this searching will take us. Is baptism just a picture, a mere representation, or does it play a larger role in extending grace? Surely we are saved by grace, but faith without works is dead right?
It's not very comfortable to look for answers knowing very well that what you've believed your whole life may be wrong or not altogether right. Looking back, I realize that the boredom from the Bible studies I used to go to came from the fact that they were safe and comfortable. A room full of people who believe 99% the same things you do is easier to be around than a friend who disagrees with a considerable amount of what you believe.
But through this experience, I've grown more. I've learned to be humble, to accept that you may be wrong. I've learned to accept that some people worship the same God I do, just a little differently. I've learned to not fear the word "tolerance", and that to truly love another person means to overlook legalistic details. I'm learning what beliefs can be let go, and what must be clung to. And most of all, I'm learning to become more and more comfortable in stepping out of my belief comfort zone. The reward is phenomenal--getting to know God for who and what He truly is, straight from the source, and not from a study sheet.
Bible study used to mean a period of time where a group of high school or middle school students would get together at someone's house, talk and be jovial, eat something (cause hey...that's what Baptists do), read a passage in scripture and talk about it, then talk (and eat) some more. The facilitator might pass out study sheets with questions relating to the passage, with space to write answers in. Everything was so organized. The format was like a cookie cutter to be used over and over week after week. Most of the time the topics were common, and the answers to the "study" were mostly predictable. I always went into the night thinking "Well, I wonder with what spin or different angle we'll look at subject x this time."
I'm not at all trying to crash or criticize those experiences. I did enjoy the fellowship, the discussions, and especially the food. And there were plenty of meetings where I did come away with something. But as of late, the experiences I've had with a friend of mine where we scour the Bible inside out for answers to real, honest questions that we actually don't know how to answer has both stretched my faith and redefined the term "Bible study" for me.
The types of questions we have and the answers we seek are ones that lie at the very heart of our doctrines--for me, Protestant, and for my friend, Catholic. Tiny, minute differences in the wordings in the statements of our faiths affect we believe about the same God and how we respond to Him. We go into our times of study with our own assumptions, but literally no idea where all this searching will take us. Is baptism just a picture, a mere representation, or does it play a larger role in extending grace? Surely we are saved by grace, but faith without works is dead right?
It's not very comfortable to look for answers knowing very well that what you've believed your whole life may be wrong or not altogether right. Looking back, I realize that the boredom from the Bible studies I used to go to came from the fact that they were safe and comfortable. A room full of people who believe 99% the same things you do is easier to be around than a friend who disagrees with a considerable amount of what you believe.
But through this experience, I've grown more. I've learned to be humble, to accept that you may be wrong. I've learned to accept that some people worship the same God I do, just a little differently. I've learned to not fear the word "tolerance", and that to truly love another person means to overlook legalistic details. I'm learning what beliefs can be let go, and what must be clung to. And most of all, I'm learning to become more and more comfortable in stepping out of my belief comfort zone. The reward is phenomenal--getting to know God for who and what He truly is, straight from the source, and not from a study sheet.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Responsibility
I've been made oh-so blatantly aware of how I take my faith for granted. I feel so ashamed for not having a ready-to-go knowledge base that I can use to construct logical arguments and defend my Protestant beliefs from Catholic beliefs.
It's a pity that these cousin denominations are so close and similar yet so far apart. Just the tiniest little bit of difference in fundamental doctrine drastically change the appearance and priorities of the two.
And all my life, I've rested easy, knowing-just knowing-that I could scripturally refute anyone who challenged Protestant ideals. Friends, I challenge you today to know your differences. Know not only exactly what you believe and why you believe it, but what they believe and why they believe it.
Denominations aside, how dare we be so irresponsible with our theology? This is what we what we hold dear. This is what commands our lifestyles. This is what we believe to be true. We have been given a gift. A gift that gives us a look at our God. We are able to know of His character, His goodness, His justice, His demands. And He demands that we be ready, in and out of season. May we be found worthy workmen that have no need for shame, and may we rightly handle the word of truth.
It's a pity that these cousin denominations are so close and similar yet so far apart. Just the tiniest little bit of difference in fundamental doctrine drastically change the appearance and priorities of the two.
And all my life, I've rested easy, knowing-just knowing-that I could scripturally refute anyone who challenged Protestant ideals. Friends, I challenge you today to know your differences. Know not only exactly what you believe and why you believe it, but what they believe and why they believe it.
Denominations aside, how dare we be so irresponsible with our theology? This is what we what we hold dear. This is what commands our lifestyles. This is what we believe to be true. We have been given a gift. A gift that gives us a look at our God. We are able to know of His character, His goodness, His justice, His demands. And He demands that we be ready, in and out of season. May we be found worthy workmen that have no need for shame, and may we rightly handle the word of truth.
Friday, December 27, 2013
About that Duck guy
I'm finally getting around to writing about my take on the gay controversy that has been sweeping the nation as of late, and it has garnered especial attention due to the remarks of a certain Phil Robertson of Duck Dynasty. In short, the situation boils down to this:
1) Mr Robertson made uncouth and socially controversial statements about his view on homosexuality.
2) A&E's removal of the show from their station as a result of his remarks are seen as "religious persecution" by some in the Christian community.
Oboy.
From my observations, it appears as though some conservatives and some christians are having aneurysms over Mr Robertson's violation of free speech and the apparent religious persecution that he is experiencing. The thought path goes something like this: "due to the fact that A&E plans to remove Duck Dynasty from the air in light of Phil Robertson's comments, we can conclude that liberals hate Christians, violate our first amendment rights, and we ought to protest."
Ugh.
a) Mr Robertson's comments were explicit.
b) The removal of a television show from a station because the station doesn't like a show's views doesn't constitute religious persecution, IMO. In light of the actions of the Romans, Islamic radicals, the Inquisition, and similar examples, "persecute" carries way too much weight for this situation.
c) No one's First Amendment rights were violated, put in danger, etc. In fact, those rights were safely practiced by both parties. Mr Robertson said what was on his mind. A&E reacted in a manner which they pleased.
That's that.
But there's a deeper problem beneath the surface that I've observed and it is indirectly related to the aforementioned reaction of some conservatives and Christians. I see among my Christian family a tendency to react to the confrontation of their values with poorly directed fervor.
Let's not make the problem our constitutional rights. Let's not excuse the fact that Mr Robertson's remarks were unprofessional. Let's not say this is persecution when we have a pastor in Iran on the brink of execution for his faith.
Let's remember that homosexuality is no greater a sin than the premarital sex the heterosexual couple had, and that those sins are no greater than the lie you told yesterday. Let's remember all required the death of a holy Christ. Let's remember no one was every saved by an internet argument. Let's remember that no matter what society says, we can all calm down because the Christian knows God doesn't need defending.
Keep Calm and Quack On.
1) Mr Robertson made uncouth and socially controversial statements about his view on homosexuality.
2) A&E's removal of the show from their station as a result of his remarks are seen as "religious persecution" by some in the Christian community.
Oboy.
From my observations, it appears as though some conservatives and some christians are having aneurysms over Mr Robertson's violation of free speech and the apparent religious persecution that he is experiencing. The thought path goes something like this: "due to the fact that A&E plans to remove Duck Dynasty from the air in light of Phil Robertson's comments, we can conclude that liberals hate Christians, violate our first amendment rights, and we ought to protest."
Ugh.
a) Mr Robertson's comments were explicit.
b) The removal of a television show from a station because the station doesn't like a show's views doesn't constitute religious persecution, IMO. In light of the actions of the Romans, Islamic radicals, the Inquisition, and similar examples, "persecute" carries way too much weight for this situation.
c) No one's First Amendment rights were violated, put in danger, etc. In fact, those rights were safely practiced by both parties. Mr Robertson said what was on his mind. A&E reacted in a manner which they pleased.
That's that.
But there's a deeper problem beneath the surface that I've observed and it is indirectly related to the aforementioned reaction of some conservatives and Christians. I see among my Christian family a tendency to react to the confrontation of their values with poorly directed fervor.
Let's not make the problem our constitutional rights. Let's not excuse the fact that Mr Robertson's remarks were unprofessional. Let's not say this is persecution when we have a pastor in Iran on the brink of execution for his faith.
Let's remember that homosexuality is no greater a sin than the premarital sex the heterosexual couple had, and that those sins are no greater than the lie you told yesterday. Let's remember all required the death of a holy Christ. Let's remember no one was every saved by an internet argument. Let's remember that no matter what society says, we can all calm down because the Christian knows God doesn't need defending.
Keep Calm and Quack On.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Showdown
Never before have I realized just how much I take what I, as a Christian of the protestant flavor, believe theologically for granted. Through recent discussions with someone very close to me, I have been challenged as never before to give an answer for why I believe and don't believe certain things.
"Growing up in church", I've accepted most of what I've been taught without second thought. I went through a brief period in high school where I doubted the existence of God because some of His attributes didn't line up with what I reasoned God ought to be. Recently, as described in a previous post, my great pitfall of pride came painfully into light after a summer of "triumph" in which I refused to attribute certain victories to the grace of God. After a semester of reeling me back in, I feel like now I am facing the biggest test of my faith to date. It's one thing to argue with yourself why you ought to believe that God exists and that all glory belongs to Him, it is quite another thing to argue with someone of your cousin faith why you believe many of the traditions he holds dear don't line up with scripture and therefore can't be true. This is especially hard to do when you aren't sure exactly why yourself.
I mean, why the heck do we believe what believe, and don't believe what we don't believe anyway? Who's right? Does it even matter? Back in the old days, people were burned at the stake for this stuff. Why is this so important to me anyway? Can't we all just get along?
It's important to me because what I believe about God affects how I view Him and react to Him. It's also important because He's been a huge part of--my whole life, and I've gotten to know Him quite personally lately. I wouldn't say that I'm scared of finding out that what I've believed my entire life is wrong, the pressure comes from wanting to be sure that I've got it right, and I don't want my assumptions that I've grown up with to get in the way, no matter how much I think (or wish) them to be true.
So here I am, starting at near absolute ground zero with this stuff. It's all going through the fine-tooth comb of scripture, prayerfully under God and with the counsel of my pastor to make sure I understand the protestant view of things. Recently, I've acquired the newest catholic catechism so I can do my catholic cousins justice in researching their beliefs.
I am approaching this with as open a mind as I can scripturarlly muster, ready to accept the fact that I may very well be wrong in some things. There are certain fundamentals that I know I will never be able to let go of, since I have been so strongly convicted of them such as the inerrancy of scripture, authority of God, salvation through faith in Christ, etc. Perhaps I will find conscience-allowable wiggle room between us.
Whatever the outcome, I know that at the end of all this, my faith will have grown so much stronger, and the Good Lord and I will be closer. I have everything to gain. Let's go.
"Growing up in church", I've accepted most of what I've been taught without second thought. I went through a brief period in high school where I doubted the existence of God because some of His attributes didn't line up with what I reasoned God ought to be. Recently, as described in a previous post, my great pitfall of pride came painfully into light after a summer of "triumph" in which I refused to attribute certain victories to the grace of God. After a semester of reeling me back in, I feel like now I am facing the biggest test of my faith to date. It's one thing to argue with yourself why you ought to believe that God exists and that all glory belongs to Him, it is quite another thing to argue with someone of your cousin faith why you believe many of the traditions he holds dear don't line up with scripture and therefore can't be true. This is especially hard to do when you aren't sure exactly why yourself.
I mean, why the heck do we believe what believe, and don't believe what we don't believe anyway? Who's right? Does it even matter? Back in the old days, people were burned at the stake for this stuff. Why is this so important to me anyway? Can't we all just get along?
It's important to me because what I believe about God affects how I view Him and react to Him. It's also important because He's been a huge part of--my whole life, and I've gotten to know Him quite personally lately. I wouldn't say that I'm scared of finding out that what I've believed my entire life is wrong, the pressure comes from wanting to be sure that I've got it right, and I don't want my assumptions that I've grown up with to get in the way, no matter how much I think (or wish) them to be true.
So here I am, starting at near absolute ground zero with this stuff. It's all going through the fine-tooth comb of scripture, prayerfully under God and with the counsel of my pastor to make sure I understand the protestant view of things. Recently, I've acquired the newest catholic catechism so I can do my catholic cousins justice in researching their beliefs.
I am approaching this with as open a mind as I can scripturarlly muster, ready to accept the fact that I may very well be wrong in some things. There are certain fundamentals that I know I will never be able to let go of, since I have been so strongly convicted of them such as the inerrancy of scripture, authority of God, salvation through faith in Christ, etc. Perhaps I will find conscience-allowable wiggle room between us.
Whatever the outcome, I know that at the end of all this, my faith will have grown so much stronger, and the Good Lord and I will be closer. I have everything to gain. Let's go.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Thankful
I never really thought so much about it until today, but I am so thankful that I have the ability to read, to write, and to reason. Without the ability to read, I wouldn't be able to tap into so much physically recorded information. I'm sitting in the library at my school and there are thousands of books in here. There is so much knowledge in physical space just sitting around, ready to be made use of. The ability to read allows such knowledge to be transferred directly to me.
The ability to read wouldn't mean much if I couldn't make anything out of it mentally. God gave me a sound, functioning mind unhindered by disease or disability. I am able to piece together words, grammar, structure, verses, essays, stories, formulas, truths, and lies. I am able to interact with the world around me intelligently and willfully.
Finally, the ability to write allows me to communicate what I have read, reasoned, and created. I too get to physically convey with others ideas in the same way I received them through print. Through advances in technology such as the internet, my ideas have the potential to be spread literally across the world, becoming just as ready to be viewed as the books standing in the shelves next to me.
What gifts. As hard as school can be, it doesn't come without reward. All three gifts are strengthened through the rigorous use school puts them through. These gifts are skills that must be used to sharpen them and maintain them.
So as I feel the pressure of exam week coming in, I can't help but be thankful that I am here and have the opportunity that sadly many people in the world don't have. And while I may never be a genius, I have the tools to do and be something great. What will it be?
The ability to read wouldn't mean much if I couldn't make anything out of it mentally. God gave me a sound, functioning mind unhindered by disease or disability. I am able to piece together words, grammar, structure, verses, essays, stories, formulas, truths, and lies. I am able to interact with the world around me intelligently and willfully.
Finally, the ability to write allows me to communicate what I have read, reasoned, and created. I too get to physically convey with others ideas in the same way I received them through print. Through advances in technology such as the internet, my ideas have the potential to be spread literally across the world, becoming just as ready to be viewed as the books standing in the shelves next to me.
What gifts. As hard as school can be, it doesn't come without reward. All three gifts are strengthened through the rigorous use school puts them through. These gifts are skills that must be used to sharpen them and maintain them.
So as I feel the pressure of exam week coming in, I can't help but be thankful that I am here and have the opportunity that sadly many people in the world don't have. And while I may never be a genius, I have the tools to do and be something great. What will it be?
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Yessss
I've been really deep and somber in my last two posts, and well, it's time for a change of pace. It's time to increase morale and promote motivation with something happy! I'm happy to have a lot to be happy about.
POR EJEMPLO:
1) Exam week is right around the corner! And this English major is suffering now so I can sleep later! No really, this 3,000 word paper is killing me. Making academic gains, tho.
2) Winter break is three weeks long, and I really can't wait to buy my family Christmas presents. I really just want to shower them with some material love and cheer as a token of my joy.
3) Grades? yeah those. They're up---not as much as I'd like, but you know what? If law school don't want me, then God didn't need me to go there. No pressure.
4) My pillow is in a perfect position right now.
5) Therefore, I'm in a perfect position right now.
6) It's not freezing.
7) I have a working laptop.
8) God made energy drinks and coffee.
9) Third class year is halfway over.
10) Ring Figure actually is next year!
POR EJEMPLO:
1) Exam week is right around the corner! And this English major is suffering now so I can sleep later! No really, this 3,000 word paper is killing me. Making academic gains, tho.
2) Winter break is three weeks long, and I really can't wait to buy my family Christmas presents. I really just want to shower them with some material love and cheer as a token of my joy.
3) Grades? yeah those. They're up---not as much as I'd like, but you know what? If law school don't want me, then God didn't need me to go there. No pressure.
4) My pillow is in a perfect position right now.
5) Therefore, I'm in a perfect position right now.
6) It's not freezing.
7) I have a working laptop.
8) God made energy drinks and coffee.
9) Third class year is halfway over.
10) Ring Figure actually is next year!
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Identity
I'm tired of basing (or trying to base) my lifestyle off of modern Christian conventions. I've known my whole life that my personality and spirit don't align with the majority of Christian women who I thought I should model myself after. The same can be said of my peers. Looking back, I could hardly relate to any of them.
But I'm also tired of that attitude of self-pity. I'm at a point now where I realize it's bringing me down to try and make myself one of them. I'm so desperately trying to free myself from the copycat mindset and accept who I am. Now I'm at a dead end. What and who am I supposed to be?
I thought identity crises were a middle school thing.
Where are all the Deborahs? It would help to learn from women that I can relate to. I know ultimately I am to model myself after Christ. But that just seems so...conceptual. Abstract. Too holy. I want to have an idea of what that looks like in a woman with similar attributes as me.
And why have I believed in frowning on working women? How are working women the irresponsible ones, not giving their children the ideal upbringing. Whatever that ideal upbringing means. Show me where it says the idealized Proverbs 31 woman can't work outside her home. Show me where it says she's sweet and gentle, or not witty and sharp.
Where did I hear that anyway?
And on a side note, I don't believe a career makes a woman any better than the career mom. Maybe both sides need to stop one-upping each other, especially when they start bringing Jesus into it. Or maybe it's just all in my head. I don't mind the dishwasher, but God gave me talents and abilities besides it. I'll be darned if I let them go to waste by not doing what I think I'm to do with said abilities, for however long He wants.
I know I'm going all over the place. Micah 6:8 is probably a lot easier than I'm making it out to be.
But I'm also tired of that attitude of self-pity. I'm at a point now where I realize it's bringing me down to try and make myself one of them. I'm so desperately trying to free myself from the copycat mindset and accept who I am. Now I'm at a dead end. What and who am I supposed to be?
I thought identity crises were a middle school thing.
Where are all the Deborahs? It would help to learn from women that I can relate to. I know ultimately I am to model myself after Christ. But that just seems so...conceptual. Abstract. Too holy. I want to have an idea of what that looks like in a woman with similar attributes as me.
And why have I believed in frowning on working women? How are working women the irresponsible ones, not giving their children the ideal upbringing. Whatever that ideal upbringing means. Show me where it says the idealized Proverbs 31 woman can't work outside her home. Show me where it says she's sweet and gentle, or not witty and sharp.
Where did I hear that anyway?
And on a side note, I don't believe a career makes a woman any better than the career mom. Maybe both sides need to stop one-upping each other, especially when they start bringing Jesus into it. Or maybe it's just all in my head. I don't mind the dishwasher, but God gave me talents and abilities besides it. I'll be darned if I let them go to waste by not doing what I think I'm to do with said abilities, for however long He wants.
I know I'm going all over the place. Micah 6:8 is probably a lot easier than I'm making it out to be.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
It's not a religion, but it's not a relationship either.
I got it wrong.
For years I’ve grown up under the cry, “It’s not a religion,
it’s a relationship”. Countless Sunday school teachers and small group leaders
tried to instill in me that God isn’t interested in me following the rules of
God for the sake of following rules. Fervently they tried to free me from the
mindset that God isn’t a cruel taskmaster, ready to strike whosoever will
disobey His holy words. Instead, God wants me to follow Him out of love and
devotion to Him. Not because I have to, but because I want to. This is the
message that I heard and that I’ve tried so hard to live by.
But something’s not quite right. Something’s missing in that
equation.
This creed, this mentality is based on the assumption that I
actually want to obey God. I should be so in love, so enamored with God that when
I am confronted with a decision that requires me to choose between my flesh and
what the Spirit would have me do, I unhesitatingly deny myself and pick the
God-pleasing option, whatever that may be. And when I have made this decision,
I need not worry about being disappointed, because Jesus will meet my every
need, providing comfort and validation. This is what the ideal Christian
relationship with God should look like. There’s a problem though. As of late,
this is anything but how I feel.
I’ll be honest, I have hit a point where I feel like I couldn’t care
less about faith, church, God, Jesus, all that stuff that I was taught not to
live without. If I had to describe my faith (which honestly, is all it is right
now) in one word at this moment in time, it’s apathetic. There have been
several days, weeks actually, where I could say with complete honesty that I
don’t care about the whole God thing anymore. It’s a new experience for me; I
grew up in church, practically. And I can even point to a time in my life where
I did feel like a relationship with God as described above was how you define
the Christian lifestyle. But lately it’s been an honest struggle to even care.
Thankfully for my sake, God is still faithful, even as mine
hangs by a thread. Slowly and surely, He’s bringing me back to Him. My story is
not a dramatic one of a life of addiction and open sin, but one of a quiet,
hypocritical, sinister rebellion. While others sin openly, I sin behind closed
doors and run far away from His grace through the maze of guilt, anger, and bitterness
in my own mind. After revelation and soul-searching, pride was revealed to be
my kryptonite, what brings me down most effectively. I don’t even notice it. I’m
naturally independent, but it’s easy to take it too far. It has taken time and
the consistency of the Spirit to reveal what I really knew all along was
dragging me down. And it is for this very reason that the relationship
mentality of the Christian lifestyle doesn’t work for me.
For the relationship to work, I actually have to want to be
close to God. In this season, I’d rather be as far away from Him as possible. So
I’m wrong for not being close to Him, and not even wanting to try. Without even
trying, I have broken this unspoken rule and have lost that connection.
But that simply is not the case, and I’d argue that isn’t
even biblical. I’d missed, or forgotten, something huge that without it, the
relationship itself is impossible, almost heretical. I’d forgotten the
covenant.
For some reason, we don’t mention covenant near as often as
we do relationship. Perhaps it’s because covenant sounds so restricting, and we’re
trying to get away from restriction, ultimately from legalism. You can’t escape
covenant in the Bible. As a matter of fact, covenant is the very thing that
makes relationship possible. The original reason we could not enjoy fellowship
with God was because He is holy and we are sinful. It was only through Christ’s
death and resurrection was the ability for fellowship to be restored, and it
was sealed by God through covenant.
This covenant is what keeps my stubborn, independent self
from escaping. The minute I put my faith in Christ, I was paid for and sealed.
The covenant went into effect and applied to me. He put His laws into my mind
and wrote them on my heart. He is my God, and I belong to Him. In this light,
relationship takes on a whole new meaning. I don’t even know if it’s the right
word. Instead of me doing the right thing because I love Him and want to make
Him happy, I do it because I am not my own. I am free from being obligated to
feel affection towards Him, because it doesn’t matter if I do or not—the covenant
still exists. I am bound to Him, and He to me.
Knowing, accepting, and believing this has been more of a
comfort to me than the relationship mentality ever has been. I was honest with
God and told Him I don’t care anymore. He hasn’t said anything back, but seems
to have jumped straight to working on me, ironing out the kinks, revealing my
weaknesses and shortcomings, and breaking me down and rebuilding me. I’m still confused as to what I
feel towards Him, frankly. Every day is an exercise in pure faith; no emotion,
no warm feelings of love or affection. I feel like the effort is totally and
completely on me right now. But I’m OK with that at the moment. And ironically
enough, I feel the safest and most secure in this covenant of ours than I ever
have before.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Some things I've learned in six months here at VMI:
1. Don't let your failures cripple you. Learn and move one; don't take it personal.
2. Let go of perfectionist tendencies. Do your absolute best.
3. It doesn't matter when people aren't satisfied with you and you know you're doing the right thing. Be confident in whatever it is that you're doing.
4. People will let you down. You will let people down.
5. Relationships can be messy, but they are worth it.
6. Find relationships that are worth the mess.
7. Work hard. Improve yourself. Don't give up.
8. Time can only go forward. Yesterday will never happen again. Take advantage of the day, and take it one day at a time.
9. God never left you. You forgot He was there.
10. F-Troop really is the best, every other company can go home. Especially Echo.
1. Don't let your failures cripple you. Learn and move one; don't take it personal.
2. Let go of perfectionist tendencies. Do your absolute best.
3. It doesn't matter when people aren't satisfied with you and you know you're doing the right thing. Be confident in whatever it is that you're doing.
4. People will let you down. You will let people down.
5. Relationships can be messy, but they are worth it.
6. Find relationships that are worth the mess.
7. Work hard. Improve yourself. Don't give up.
8. Time can only go forward. Yesterday will never happen again. Take advantage of the day, and take it one day at a time.
9. God never left you. You forgot He was there.
10. F-Troop really is the best, every other company can go home. Especially Echo.
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