The Spiritual Gift of Mercy

In my Pauline epistles class, my professor said that instead of thinking of our spiritual things as something we enjoy doing, perhaps they are something which requires sacrifice on our part.  I don't see why they can't be both.  I've gotten to a place where I automatically reject any Christianese anti-joy stance, because I firmly believe God desires for us to enjoy life and the gifts He gives us.  But it makes a lot of sense that in our broken world, the things that ought to bring us joy will also bring us pain.

A couple years ago I asked some people from church to identify my spiritual gifts, and instead of continuing to listen to my professor (who I really do love, but well, I have a short attention span when I'm interested in something else), I searched my emails.  There it was, Joel saying he thought I had the spiritual gift of mercy, long before I considered studying counseling and making mercy a career.

I thought back several months, when I spent an agonizing evening with my friend Libby, opening up for the first time to a friend about how the weight of the world sometimes feels like it will break me, how my bouts of depression are more often global in scale than personal.  The ways people hurt each other, the inevitability of war and abuse and my helplessness to do anything about it--this can feel unbearable.  Libby said I take too much responsibility for other people's feelings, and she is absolutely right.  But I think there is something else to it.

If my spiritual gift is mercy, and if spiritual gifts require sacrifice, then this makes sense.  Mercy only exists where sin exists.  Being tapped into the richness of mercy necessarily means being tapped into the depths of sinfulness.  There some days I find this exchange more acceptable than others.

I have always been an emotional sucker for underdogs.  I cried for Gollum more than any other character in The Lord of the Rings, because he just needed unconditional love, oh my God.  My absolute favorite part of counseling is when a client tentatively admits to some secret, and by not reacting in horror, I get to watch their faces open up just a tiny bit in trust before the rest comes out.  All the shame, all the horrible things they have thought or felt or done.  I love being the person to hear their worst and to say, "I'm so sorry you went through that.  I understand why you would have done that.  I'm so grateful you shared that with me."  I hadn't really thought of it as mercy before, but of course it is.  I love seeing someone at their worst and saying, "I'm not going to punish you for that."

My overabundance of mercy is counterbalanced by an incredibly diminished capacity for justice.  I hate war, I hate revenge, I hate the death penalty, I hate giving up on someone.  My church is going through Joshua right now, and I very much appreciate how nearly every week whoever is preaching addresses the complexity of what it means to serve an occasionally genocidal God.  I struggle with that a lot, and the concept of God's justice in general.  There are exceptions, though.  I think of the men and women who kidnap children and naive young women, who sell other people's bodies for sex and abuse, who buy homes paid for by someone else's nightmare.  I think of those people, and my capacity for mercy shrivels up until I understand God's justice.  I understand His disgust with our sin, His desire to see it--to see us--utterly destroyed.

That's unusual, though.  And honestly, if I met someone who worked in the sex trafficking industry and managed to talk to them, I'm sure I would discover their own background of abuse and neglect and pain.  I'd like to think that I could learn to empathize with even these disgusting people, that I could learn to show mercy to them.

That doesn't negate justice.  I understand that justice is an attribute of God, despite my usual inability to fathom it or especially to appreciate it.  But I just read G. K. Chesterson's Orthodoxy in which he states the inherent paradoxes of Christianity.  Ours is a religion, not of balance, but of passion.  Christianity has inspired the gruesomest wars in history as well as an enduring community of people committed to non-violence.  Our God is entirely just and entirely merciful, and I think His people, being finite where He is infinite, are able to inhabit and display just one or two of His attributes. Someone else has justice covered.  I've got mercy, for worse and for better.

Unconditional Love

Therapy today meant discussing self-worth, which was MISERABLE; I assume for everyone other than the three or four lucky bastards who had perfect childhoods.

Therapist: Do you think there's a spiritual element here?
Me: Yes. I was raised knowing that God loved me in spite of my sins, and—it was always in spite of. It's only been in the last couple years that I've learned that maybe God just straight up loves me. Maybe he delights in me.
Therapist: What would that be like?
Me: Comfort. Security. Peace...Too good to be true.

Our conversation moved on, but for the rest of the day I was stuck on this exchange.  Later it struck me why it felt so important--the last year or so has essentially been my attempts to prove that God's love is conditional.  For so long I've been defined (by others and by myself) as "the good girl," and it terrifies me to think that this reputation is what has earned God's love.  Does he only care about me when I'm trying not to sin, when I'm being modest, when I'm focusing on him, when I'm serving others?

So I stopped reading my Bible.  I started cussing.  I hit my snooze alarm until it was too late to go to church.  I ignored chapel requirements for DTS.  In my "good girl" way, I went bad.  I think I was railing against God, trying to prove to him that, "See!?  You don't love me now!"  I disobey authority, covet everything, hang onto jealousy, embrace bitterness, wallow in self-pity, and then I held my blackened and shattered heart up to God in defiance.  I wanted him to let me down.  I wanted him to be like everyone else, so that at least the world would make sense.  The rules would be clear--for me to experience love, I need to put on my happy shiny people face and DO STUFF.

But....that hasn't happened.  It's not like I've felt showered in God's love.  But during this year I've found friends who are in the muck with me, doubting and trying and flailing.  I've got this support system that is mysteriously okay with all of my pain because they know that the world is shitty and they're not interested in pretending it's not.  And it's through them and their sarcastic, enduring compassion that I think...okay.  Maybe God loves me.  Maybe I could never read the Bible for the rest of my life, and he would love me.  Maybe I could always act selfishly, and he would love me.  Maybe he looks down on me and fucking laughs and smiles fondly.  Maybe I'm his craftsmanship, and he made me good.  Maybe I'm broken, but he sees what I was, am, and will be, and he's just entirely delighted.

Looking for Hope

One of the things I've learned from therapy is that I have a generally hopeless outlook on life.  My therapist took me back to middle school when I was most strongly depressed and vaguely suicidal.  I told how my desire to be dead was largely religious.  I was obsessed with Philippians 1:23, in which Paul says, "I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far."  I also took C.S. Lewis's quote to heart, the one about how if nothing in this world can satisfy, then we must be made for another world.  That's encouraging from an eternal perspective, but it has always struck me as depressing for the here and now.  It will never get better.

Had those feelings left? my therapist wondered.  And immediately I knew, no, no, I still feel that way.  I've learned to cover them up with busyness and friendships.  But whenever those things fall apart, I'm left staring at my philosophy of hopelessness.  What a shift, to realize that I don't suffer from periodic bouts of depression.  I constantly live from a foundation of hopelessness, only most of the time I can ignore it with distractions.

Two things have helped.

I'm making some really wonderful friends in Dallas.  One in particular is special.  We've decided to meet every week and get honest.  We've already addressed the fact that neither of us like vulnerability and we move away when things get too uncomfortable, so we're understanding of each other and committed to keep each other close even when the other is trying to run away.

Today we had lunch and talked about shame, casually mentioned some habitual sins, sharing an unhealthy desire to control everything, especially who I am and what I do.  It's freeing to talk with her, because we come from a place of "this won't get fixed immediately, and it doesn't have to.  God is patient, and what I can offer to you is my listening and my care and my acknowledgement that this is really awful for you."  I don't want people to fix me.  I'm tired of advice.  I'm loving having a friend who is screwed up and owning it, who lets me be screwed up and still wants to get coffee.

Life seems hopeless.  The one thing that gives me hope and makes me think I have a purpose is when someone says, "I wanted to be your friend because you're real.  You're not perfect and you don't pretend to be.  You're safe."  That's what I have to offer the world.  My imperfections.  In a screwed up world, that's rather lovely.

The other encouragement I had was from a job-searching book I have to read for class, ironically.  I get bogged down in the big picture, in the global sins and the ways in which nature and humanity cause pain on top of pain.  But this poem that the book quoted reminded me to look at the details for the reasons life can be good.

"What is success?
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded."
--Bessie Anderson Stanley

Need Buckets Pt. 3

You know the drill:  need buckets, it's sad, we meet them with coping strategies, Jesus wants to fill our need buckets if only we'll let Him.

So here's the definition of sin:  trying to meet our needs apart from God.

This is brilliant.  This the broader definition of sin that I've always looked for, because of course sin can't just be actions, and it's got to be relational at heart if a relationship is what cures it.  It also affirms the fact that we are intelligent image bearers of God.  People don't sin out of craziness (unless you're criminally insane, of course).  People sin because they think it's what they have to do.

Needs are screaming toddlers, basically.  If there is a massive hole in our soul, we will do just about anything to get it met, whether that is adultery or murder or lies.  We're desperate, hurting people.  We will go to church five times a week to earn God's approval or make people think we're holy.  Or maybe we go because we need the companionship, we need to look good and have people say, "Hey, you look good, and I'm so glad you're here!" and the thing is, sin is super subtle and we're none of us exempt.

I totally meet my needs in sinful ways--in sinful relationships, in sinful actions, in sinful addictions.  I've struggled with some sins for over a decade, which does a number on your faith when there are messages in the Church that say, "Occasional sins are alright, but habitual sins?  You're probably not a Christian."  And what the hell?  Here I thought I was a person who loved Jesus but found it impossible to stop doing this thing that I know is wrong but which makes me feel better.  But sin, when thought of as simply actions, as things that are the root of the issue rather than merely symptoms, well, then people can get legalistic on your ass and make you feel like crap.

But framed in terms of need buckets, it makes so much sense.  I can't kick my sins because my bucket is still empty.  And while my needs are unmet, I'm going to try to meet them in whatever way I can.  Even when I know something is a sin, I'm still going to do it, because that need drives me insane.  In eternity we're not going to sin, right?  Why?  Because our needs will be totally fulfilled.  That is crazy beautiful, I can't even actually imagine.

Seeing it this way allows me to see myself with so much grace.  I'm not openly rebelling, and I'm not hopelessly depraved.  I'm hurting.  Everyone who is sinning is hurting. 

And if I can learn to be gracious to myself, well then look at God.

I often wonder how God can be so patient.  How is He so good, so forgiving?  Well.  He's omniscient.  He knows us inside and out.  He knows all of our needs, and He knows which ones were met and which ones are still buckets waiting to be filled.  He knows all of our tricks, and He knows how unfulfilling they are.  It makes so much sense that God would be patient when He sees how deeply our brokenness runs.  He knows it's going to take far more than a few well-timed sermons, a few Bible verses, a few worship songs, a few strolls through nature.  He knows how empty we are, and He cares.  He empathizes with us, and I think that's why He is not nearly so hard on us as we are on ourselves.  I think that's why sanctification is a lifetime process, one that just can't be accomplished in this life where we will continue to have our needs go unmet.

God knows that the only way we'll stop sinning is for the coming of the new heaven and the new earth, when we will see God face to face, when we will know Him and truly understand for the first time that He meets our needs fully and completely, filling those buckets to overflowing.  And when our needs are met, we won't have to go looking for help anywhere else.

That's going to be a good day.

Need Buckets Pt. 2

Alright, so we've got needs that were not met as children, and we spend the rest of our lives flailing around trying to meet them through negative coping strategies.  It's all rather hopeless until you look at John 4.

Jesus meets with the Samaritan woman at the well, and they talk about water.  The woman draws water from the well, and it's effective, but it has to be done every single day, and it's work.  Jesus says He's got living water, water that never runs out, that springs out by itself without needing to be drawn.  The Samaritan woman is smart; she wants that living water.  But Jesus starts talking about her husband.  Whoops, husbands and extra lover.  Turns out it's not water Jesus was talking about but relationships.  Just like the woman worked to get water, she worked to get her needs met by men.  Jesus promises living water, promises to meet her needs so fully that she doesn't have to resort to manipulating people into loving and caring and respecting her.

That's lovely, isn't it?  That's the hope offered by Christianity.

Except sometimes, God doesn't meet our needs.  During break, I told this to the girl sitting next to me, and she said, "Oh, of course He does.  He can do anything and..."  I'll be honest, I stopped listening almost immediately.  She'd just gotten engaged.  Clearly she didn't have a problem trusting God.

Dr. Dickens is a nosy guy, so he said, "It sounds like you two are processing over there.  Let us in!"  So I told him that it seems like God doesn't meet all our needs, and he frowned and nodded.

"God meets our ways in three ways, I think.  One, He meets our needs supernaturally, like those peaceful feelings to you can't explain etc.  Two, He meets our needs through people, and often they don't even know they're giving you exactly what you need.  And three, sometimes He doesn't answer our needs."

I almost teared up.  Turns out people telling the truth is crazy validating.

He continued, "Sometimes God doesn't meet our needs.  He sees us, and He sees our needs, and He knows they are legitimate.  But sometimes He doesn't meet them because He wants us to know we can survive without it.  Sometimes we've made the need into something bigger than it really is and He teaches us perspective.  Sometimes we never know why He doesn't meet them."

And yes.  Yes yes yes.

As mentioned in the previous post, one of my biggest needs is for a vulnerable, committed intimate relationship.  Ever since I was a kid, I've wanted a best friend.  I want so desperately to have someone to share life with, to make memories and grow together and say, "Hey, remember that time ten years ago?  Me too."  I've always wanted that, and I've never gotten it.  I've had some lovely groups of friends.  I've had a couple people who were best friends for a while, but then college ends, or they move, or I move.  I've learned that this need really fucking hurts, so I usually employ my coping strategy and get the hell out of dodge before I feel so attached to someone that it's going to hurt when they leave.

And of course, I really want to get married.  That's the ultimate committed, vulnerable relationship, right?  I want it bad.  But none of the guys I've been interested in have been interested back, and that gets really old after a decade, so I started saying, "Marriage?  Screw marriage!  Not only is singleness a gift from God, I super enjoy the gift!  In your face, marriage!"  While I will vehemently defend singleness as a gift from God, I have to admit that I hate every minute of it. 

So I've got this need for long-term intimate relationships, and I've pretended I don't have it, and I've tried to look perfect so that people would be drawn to me and at least I'd get some kind of affirmation.  But that's tiring.  I'm tired of looking perfect.  I'm tired of getting people to like the Perfect Version of myself.  It's absolutely exhausting, and Jesus's living water sounds really fantastic right now.

Only the answer seems to be no.

Now, you can say I have a long-term intimate relationship with God, and you're right.  I should definitely explore that and give it more credit.  But I do think that God created us with relational needs that are meant to be met by humans.  And for that, my needs are being partially met or not at all.  And that sucks.  And Dr. Dickens affirmed it, and while that doesn't meet my needs, it makes me feel a little less crazy.

Need Buckets Pt. 1

We talked about negative coping strategies in practicum.  We all have needs, Dr. Dickens said.  Say that you have twenty need buckets.  It's not a bad thing to have needs.  Humans are inherently needy, created that way by God to fuel community and remind us that we are, in fact, created beings.  To pretend we aren't needy is to pretend we are God.  So we've got twenty need buckets (let's just say), and our parents are able to fill up maybe fifteen of them if we're lucky.  That's 75%, that's a passing parent grade.

But there are still five need buckets that are empty.  Those needs could be the need for intimacy, the need for purpose, the need for security, the need for respect.  And when our needs are not being met, there are three general coping strategies people employ to get those needs met.  Moving toward people are people pleasers.  They help people in hopes that they will be helped in return.  These people look really good, but their motivation for kindnesses is selfish and manipulative.  Moving against people are aggressive.  They'll force you to meet their needs by steamrollering over you and demanding whatever they need before leaving you.  Again, selfish and manipulative.  Moving away people either pretend they don't actually have needs or else set themselves apart, pretending they've got everything figured out so that people will be drawn to them and meet their needs without them ever having to ask for it.

I am so a moving away person.  I have, quite literally, moved away.  One of my empty need buckets is the need for intimacy.  I crave vulnerable, committed relationships.  But I pretend this doesn't bother me, or I try to be perfect so people will be drawn to me because it's only if I'm perfect that people will want to be in close relationships with me (nevermind that by pretending to be perfect I've forfeited the authenticity needed for truly intimate relationships). 

So we all have needs, and we all try to meet them in sideways moves.  Oftentimes these coping strategies are effective; that's why we use them.  But inevitably they will fail, and even if they never do, they get so tiring.  We're smart; we know the difference between manipulating someone into meeting our needs and having someone meet them all on their own motivation.

As therapists, we're meant to 1) decipher what a person's needs are and 2) what their coping strategy is.  They will use this coping strategy against us, so that part won't be hard.  The tricky thing is that when they are manipulating, we're supposed to ignore their need.  They'll be shuddering apart, flailing for affirmation, and we just sit with them and let them flail.  It's only when they tire and let their guard down that we jump in and load them up with whatever their need is.  In this way, they'll learn that they don't have to manipulate people into meeting their needs.  It's possible for them to give up and stop trying and still be loved.

This is grace.

This is my epiphany:  I move away from people, and I move away from God.  These last few months (this last decade, more like), I've been ignoring God, trying to manipulate Him into helping me, caring for me, providing for me.  Because God chases us, right?  He pursues us?  So I've been really pissed off because HE HASN'T.  He's letting me hang.

But if God is a counselor, and I think that He is, then He's waiting.  He's not going to validate my coping strategy by rushing in to meet my needs just because I'm pouting and avoiding Him.  And this explains the wonderful moment I had a couple weeks ago.  I dropped my act, I opened my Bible, and Hebrews 12 jumped into my heart and comforted me.  God met me the second I stopped moving away and let Him in.

Of course, I've since returned to moving away, because that shit is deeply ingrained, and I didn't miraculously learn to trust God.  So.  I'm still working through this, but like, my brain has opened and I feel like I see what's happening, at least a little bit.

I'll Take My Fall Break Now, Thanks

Fall semesters at DTS are the worst; we begin mid-August and don't get a break until mid-November.  That is an excruciatingly long time to do readings and papers and presentations.  Having learned from last year, I planned my own mini-Fall Break, and here at the end of it, I declare it a resounding success.

It helps that my Thursday classes went surprisingly well.  I walked into practicum at 7:45 a.m. and told Dr. Dickens, "I've been nervous all week anticipating your role playing!  Angry clients are what I fear most!"  He laughed and said, "I'm really tired today.  I probably won't manage to be very angry."  So I volunteered to counsel him first, and it was crazy frustrating, but he complimented me when it was over.  More importantly, there are nine more classmates to go through before I take another turn, so I won't have to be nervous for at least two more weeks.

On Friday in the airport, I thought about my counseling sessions.  Cathalina says I'm very hard on myself, and I realized that I've taken even positive things about myself and twisted them so that they're negative.  Lately I've thought of traveling as escaping, and what an immature move that is.  I still think traveling is my escaping, but now I'm not so sure escaping is bad.

Two of the things I love about traveling are 1) being alone in a crowd, and 2) being surrounded by people speaking a language other than English.  As an extremely self-conscious individual, it is freeing to be alone, to be allowed to ignore people and not worry if I ought to say something or contribute to the conversation, to wander off in my own head without offending someone with my silence.  It's freeing, I realized.  It's peaceful.  I felt utterly at peace sitting in seat 27F, gazing out of the airplane and watching earth fall away beneath me.

We flew through forests of clouds, this ridiculously beautiful display of Neverland-quality whimsy.  I've always been in love with the sky, and this was stunning.  In the peace and beauty, I felt like I clicked back into step with God.  I was effusive in thanksgiving, and I smiled, "I could die right now, God, this is all I need."  Then we hit three minutes of turbulence, and the smile turned into a grimace of, "Not that you have to kill us, okay?"  We didn't crash.

I went to Maryland to visit Elizabeth.  She was the roommate of my best friend from college.  I saw her pretty frequently since I was at their dorm a lot, but we've never hung out alone.  I was a bit nervous, actually, but that turned out to be unfounded.  During our drive from the airport through DC and on to her apartment, we talked about depression and introversion and marble buildings and pets and fast food and jobs.  At her apartment I gravitated toward her bookshelf, and we spent the night exchanging book recommendations and watching Modern Family.

On Saturday we visited F. Scott Fitzgerald's grave.  We honored America's greatest writer then rode into DC to honor England's greatest writer at the Shakespeare Museum.  We lucked into a tour of the reading room, where we stood amongst beautifully old books and dark wood with people unashamedly in love with academia.  We wandered toward Capitol Hill, taking in the unique and adorable houses and the trees changing colors in their yards.  We grabbed sandwiches and meandered through a street market.  I bought mahjongg tile earrings in honor of the computer game I so often played with my grandpa as a kid.

We found a house converted into used book store, every space covered in towers of books, piled to the ceiling, sitting in stacks on the floor.  Books went horizontal and vertical, stacked two-deep in endless bookshelves.  Elizabeth and I separated and gawked and perused, reuniting to exchange book finds and ask, "Did you see that note taped to the middle shelf in the back of the second floor next to the cookbook section?"

After fortifying ourselves with nutella lattes, we rode back to Elizabeth's car.  In planning our evening, we decided for a laid back evening of entertainment.

Elizabeth:  I thought we were going to watch Doctor Who.
Me:  We were?
Elizabeth:  Yeah, that's what you said when we were planning this trip.
Me:  I did?  You're okay with that?
Elizabeth:  Yes!
Me:  This.  Is the best.  Trip.  Ever.  Where should we start!?

Before space-traveling Time Lords, we bought food for dinner.  I told Elizabeth about my repeated visits to Uwajimaya in Seattle.  "We have a lot of Asian supermarkets here.  Would you like to go to one?" she asked.  "Yes," I replied.  "I'll buy us mochi ice cream for dessert."  "I've always wanted to try that!" she said.  "We are the same person," I marveled.

Stuffed with chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and mochi, we watched four episodes of Doctor Who, one from each of the four seasons.  We definitely watched the episode with Martha and Shakespeare, happily quoting the woman who gave us the tour, "I like to think Shakespeare and his earring were rather dashing!"

Sunday morning led to office visits and lazy Starbucks breakfast, over which we discussed Harry Potter, the salvation of animals, and Joshua Harris's church.  We took the scenic route to the airport, and I flew away from vacation back to reality.  I had escaped, and in escaping I had learned to breathe.  I had an absolutely lovely time with a new old friend, and I was given the emotional capacity to return to DTS and kick the last half of the semester in the butt.

Hello, Mojo, I Missed You

Going back to school is a guaranteed rush of TOO MANY THOUGHTS.  There are classes to prepare for, relationships to renew, and the thing about studying theology and counseling is that those topics sink into real life situations and stick with you.  It's a bit of an overload, honestly, which is why I haven't been blogging.  I can't blog until I've got a handle on whatever I want to talk about, even if the words themselves flow out without censorship.

The thing about this semester, I think, is that I'm finally taking charge.  In my introversion studies, I learned that introverts can be just as a) outgoing and b) assertive as anyone, only they need to feel a) safe and b) comfortable in order to do so.  Can I get an amen?  Apparently after a year in a new city studying a new subject with new friends, I feel safe and comfortable!

On the social side, I'm a bit flabbergasted, because when did I accumulate so many friends?  It's lovely, but a little unwieldy, because whereas before I had a friend in this class and a friend in that class, now we are all together and it's hard to juggle them all.  But lovely, too, because obviously.  Twice a week I'm at school throughout lunch, and my normal habit is to eat on the stone patio behind the library where nobody goes, then hang out in the library proper and get some schoolwork done before my next class.  But I keep being thwarted by people who assume I want to be social!  This pisses me off momentarily, because I need to regroup and recharge, but it's nice to catch up with people.

On the academic side, I am killing it.  Over the summer I fully owned the fact that I do in fact want to study counseling, and landed solidly on the fact that this is a career I want to devote the next however-many years of my life to mastering.  What a difference (plus, see above, comfort, safety).

My angelology class has a group presentation (isn't seminary where we avoid contact with other students, gross, eurgh, yuck) and I was feeling assertive the day we gathered, so I volunteered to be the chairperson.  It is so fun!  Although last night I realized the danger of leading a bunch of people studying to be leaders, because a guy emailed me a list of extremely detailed notes which "might be useful" to me in leading our meeting today.  Back up off me, boy!  Really, he was a man in his 40s, and when we met and I incorporated some of his ideas, but not all of them, everyone meshed really well and anyway, I'm just saying I'm really enjoying being the chairperson. 

Dr. Barnes emailed the MABC students saying he is researching "Individual Sexuality and the Church" for his sabbatical, and was anyone interested in helping?  I'm not sure how emphatically I can say, "SIR THAT IS MY PASSION" but I emailed back my interest, however, what was the time commitment, etc.  What I got back was an invitation to his house on Sunday where the team would get together to discuss details and also cookout and don't forget to bring your swimsuit!  What?  No!  Swimming at my professor's house?  That is utterly terrifying, but I said yes, because while ambition is a foreign concept to me, I realize networking is like, a pretty good idea.

And finally, practicum I!  Dr. Dickens is the best, because as an introvert, he knows springing surprises is the worst for our little terrified brains, so he told us we wouldn't be getting into the Ring of Fire to practice counseling until the third week of classes.  Which was this week!  "It's kiddie pool stuff," he said.  "I'll be the client, and I promise, even if you trip and fall, the water is so shallow you can't drown."  "What if we fall on our faces?" someone asked.  "I'll turn you over," he promised.

I was antsy to get this over with, because during the first class, Dr. Dickens said, "It will be hard to be the client, but we're all screwed up and that's not going to surprise anyone.  It will be infinitely harder to be the counselor.  You've invested a lot of money in this program, and this is something you're pretty passionate about, pretty sure you want to do for the rest of your life.  What if you stink at it?"  Yes yes, so the best way out is through, and I was going to volunteer to go first, but the other antsy kid beat me to it.  Thank goodness, because he sat down and Dr. Dickens said, "What do you want to know about me?" and the poor guy just sat there wide-eyed for fifteen seconds of silence.  All this studying how to be empathetic and model emotions, and NO ONE EVER TOLD US HOW TO START A CONVERSATION.  Terrifying.

Ten minutes later, I jumped at the chance to tag team, and yes, utter terror.  "What strengths to you do--do you bring to the, ahem, counseling staff?" I continued, horrified at my inability to speak English.  But then he was off, and the conversation turned interesting, and the more I focused on him the less I thought about the twelve students staring at us.  I think I looked empathetic, and I enjoyed learning about him, and I realized that counseling is HARD, because people don't say what you expect them to say, so you've got to be mentally agile and constantly map out where you want the conversation to go, but no, okay, maybe we'll go there instead.  After my time was up, he gave me a high five, which was either pity or encouragement, and I'll take them both.

LOOK AT ME.  Bossin' it up, being all sure I'll do that, and oh yeah, one of my friends asked me to be her sponsor while she goes through Steps, and WHAT.  I'm like, all doing stuff I've been talking about, but only talking, and now I'm doing.  It's crazy.  Three weeks.  Suddenly I'm a leader and proactive and passionate, and it feels like I've got my mojo back.

I'm A Real Boy--er, Counselor!

I had my first Practicum class today.  Essentially it is twelve students and our professor, and we're going to practice counseling on each other, both authentically and as pretend clients.  Today was mostly paperwork stuff and forewarning of things to come.  Dr. Dickens reminded us that our Stage 2 Interviews would be happening this semester; after those the Biblical Counseling faculty meet and decide whether or not counseling is a good fit for each of us.  If they decide yes, we can finish the program.  He told us not to be worried about the interview and to be ourselves.  What kind of people do counselors like, he asked?

Real people.  Counselors like the messiness of people, seeing the doubts and journeys and failures.  If you put on a perfect face around a counselor, they will be both a) bored, and b) suspicious.

This more than anything confirmed that I have a counselor's heart.  I'm more interested in sanctification than justification.  I want to hear about people's doubts more than their faith.  I like to hear "well, life has been hard" rather than "oh, I'm fine."  When someone cusses or acts out inappropriately, where many people harden their faces and look down upon the person, my face lights up.  Not because I approve of everything someone does, but because then I think, "That is the real person.  They've let their facade slip and now we see who they are.  They're broken like I am broken, and now we can relate more deeply and understand each other more fully."

When church leaders turn out to be sex addicts, I'm saddened by the people who they've hurt, but I'm not going to carry a pitchfork.  Of course they're struggling with s***, they are human beings who, on top of normal human being struggles, are thrust into positions of "purity" and responsibility.  Why are we surprised by someone's failures?

I'm often surprised that people are not exactly like me, so my confusion of "wait, you don't like when people cuss, and you're uncomfortable with people admitting that they think maybe God doesn't exist or doesn't care?" was nicely cleared up by the fact that those people who are drawn to honesty and messiness are, in fact, counselors!  Glad to know my "skills" are going to help me land a job.

DTS Bathrooms

Women have only been allowed to take classes at DTS since about 1980.  That's around 35 years.  And if that weren't bad enough, the campus still has physical reminders of our newness to the academic life.  It's been a joke amongst the female students that there are fewer women's bathrooms than men's, when everyone knows the opposite ought to be true.  But I've never heard a man comment on it, and especially not negatively.

Not until today, that is!  Dr. K keeps winning "professor of the year" in my book, largely because he is a legitimately great teacher, but also because he treats women as human beings who are in attendance in his classes.  That might sound stupid, but I've sat through whole semesters in which the professors only referred to the students using masculine pronouns or used examples of men and husbands but never women or wives.

You know it's bad when Dr. K says, "and then, to a man and to a woman, they" and your heart soars from the intentionality of including both sexes.  It's little things like that that make me feel visible and valued.

And it's bigger things like the bathroom rant that make me feel like standing up and cheering.

Right before break, Dr. K finished reading the syllabus, which included a statement about the school's commitment to not discriminate based on disability.  Dr. K said, "We don't discriminate on the basis of disability, only by gender. I'm serious. During our upcoming break, if you are male, you may go down the hall to use the restroom. If you are not male, you will have to go to a different floor or another building. A board member, a female board member, said recently that until we have a women's restroom on the first floor, all our talk of equality will be vague.  I think she's right."

I mean, this touched me so deeply that I copied his words verbatim.  So.  

THERE IS HOPE, hallelujah, it gives me so much joy that a respected theology professor purposefully and intentionally includes women in his common speech and deliberately brings up issues of equality that have nothing to do with the topic at hand.  This is the best.

Single Sexuality

As a single woman growing up in the Church, I was given a rotating combination of these messages:  1) Don't lead your brothers astray by dressing immodestly!  2)  You're so good; you'll definitely find a husband soon!  3)  Use your singleness to serve God, and maybe you'll find a husband in the process!

I've always felt less-than for being single.  Married couples talk about their relationship as an exclusive understanding of God and a necessary part of deeper sanctification.  Their eyes glaze as they rhapsodize about the wonder of being married, and even though I am a fan of marriage (I kind of have to be if I'm considering a career in marriage counseling), I often left church gatherings feeling as though I were missing out on some grander plan of God's.  Worse, since I'm pretty open to getting married but it hasn't happened, it felt like God was keeping me from knowing Him at this supposed deeper level.

I felt like a kid who was made to walk through a candy shop and then laughed at, because hahahaha, you can't have any of it!

Which is why reading Soul Virgins by Doug Rosenau and Michael Todd Wilson was a breath of fresh air.  It turns out, dear readers, that single Christians are not defective.  And if you think that deep-seated fear sounds ridiculous, please know that I am aware of its ridiculousness.  No one ever, to my face, told me that I was inferior for being single.  But I think we all ought to step back and ask what it is about church culture that made me feel that way.  And based on the numerous single classmates who confessed to devouring the book through tears, I'm not the only one who feels this way.

What makes the book so meaningful?  I'd rather you read it than take my word for it, but what sticks out the most is that Rosenau and Wilson gave single Christians a purpose.  We aren't sitting in the waiting room, twiddling our fingers and fretting over whether or not there is a husband or wife in our future.  Nor are we shutting down our sex drives, reminding ourselves that sex is bad, bad, bad, until that magical day when we might get married and suddenly a switch will be flipped and sex will be good, better, best!  Studies have shown that doesn't happen.  Repressed Christians often have terrible sex lives until they can work through those issues.

So what does it mean to be single, created by God as a sexual being?

Single Christians Are Sexual

There are boundaries that ought to be in place, of course.  Erotic sexual behaviors are for marriage.  But single Christians ought to intentionally seek out relationships with the opposite sex.  "It is not good for man to be alone."  Men and women were created to need each other, to learn from each other, and to support each other.  This is not simply the marriage relationship.  This is humanity.  It is in singleness that we inclusively relate to men and women, affirming who God made them and reminding them of their awesomeness.

In Soul Virgins, the phrase "righteous flirting" is used, which is just strange enough to pique my interest.  Make out sessions and copping feels is not on the table.  But Dr. Rosenau extends so much grace and trust, encouraging men and women to be carefully intimate with each other, to allow touch (many singles are desperately touch-deprived), and to embrace their sexuality rather than flee from it.

What is Sexuality?

Maybe your face is contorted in horror.  Singles embracing their sexuality?  The concept was weird for me at first too.  It still is, because it goes against all the hyper-sensitive rules I internalized growing up.  So let's take a step back.

Sexuality, we were taught, is God's gift to humanity that reveals His heart of relationality.  Sexuality is a constant reminder that we need to be close to others, that we crave intimacy and the ability to share our life with someone else.  With married couples, that intimacy is expressed exclusively.  Much stricter boundaries are raised around a married couple, and with those higher boundaries come an increased amount of allowed activities with each other (I mean sex).

Single men and women are sexual too.  We crave intimacy, and here's the thing.  We're allowed it.  What's more, we can express our need for intimacy inclusively.  I can share my heart deeply with many people, unencumbered by many of the walls surrounding a marriage.  I'm not saying married people cannot have intimate relationships with someone other than their spouses; in fact, I am definitively in favor to marrieds having close friends.  But there is still a priority to one's spouse that a single person does not have to worry about.

Single Sexuality as Freedom

Part of the problem is that we so often think sexuality means sex and nothing more.  This is the cause of many sexual sins.  Sexuality needs to be reframed, and singles need to start considering whether or not they are looking to get non-sexual needs met in sexual ways.

Loneliness is a huge concern for singles.  Many get entangled in romantic relationships to ease that ache, and many fall into one-night stands for the momentary closeness provided.  But loneliness does not have to be cured with sex.  In fact, it cannot be, not permanently.  Loneliness is about something else.  Our culture is incredibly sexual, and most of us have bought the lie that sex is the answer for everything.  It is not.  It is wonderful, and singles can long for the physical, emotional, and spiritual union of sex.  But a lot of what we long for is something else.

So when we've sorted out our needs and let them catapult us into intimate relationships with men and women, what do we do with the legitimate sexual frustration?  Get proactive!  Many of the world's greatest books, paintings, or inventions were created by single people.  We've got the time.  We've got the focus.  We're free from a commitment to someone else's wellbeing.

Similarly, singles have freedoms married people don't have.  During our lecture on this topic, my heart was heavy, because it was married couples telling us to rejoice in our singleness, and I didn't believe that they actually thought we had something good going for us.  But then Debbie Wade interjected and said, "Sometimes at church there's an opportunity for a service or a mission trip, and I desperately want to go.  But then I think about how that would affect my husband, and I have to let it go.  I'm limited because I'm married."  That simple story was like water on my soul.  I vibrated in my seat, so thrilled to have heard a married woman say there were benefits to being single.

I'm embarrassed by my reaction.  I'm ashamed that I need so much to be affirmed, to be told that I have worth as a single woman.  I have not heard often enough or honestly enough (because I won't believe you if it's flippant or obviously an attempt to placate my doubts) the Church affirm that God created me this way, that He loves me as a single person, that I am good and complete right now.

I'm not alone in this feeling.  Everyone I talked to in my class who was single felt like we were hearing something new.  If you are reading this and are single, I hope you take some comfort in what I wrote.  If you are reading this and are married, I ask you to think long and hard about how you can joyfully display the meaning of your marriage while simultaneously affirming and humanizing the single people in your life.

This is an issue that the Church must address if it wants to address an ever-growing population of men and women who could be unrestrained workers for Christ, but who often sit at home waiting for the spouse who will "allow" them to be fully functional in the Body of Christ.

A Theology of Sexuality

As stolen from part one of a paper I had to write for my class:

As followers of Christ, we must seek to align our relationships and actions with the revealed will of the triune God. This includes sex, although the subject is unfortunately ignored by many churches. From the very beginning, God created humanity as sexual beings, and we can better understand both ourselves and our God by grasping this truth. Genesis 1:27 says, “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” Just as the triune God exists in eternal loving relationship, so His creations were formed to need loving relationships. Understanding and living out our maleness or femaleness allows us to be image bearers of God. We are made to crave relationships, whether with family, friends, or in a committed marriage. By serving and loving one another selflessly, we display our sexuality and glorify the love that exists between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Like the rest of the world, however, our purpose became much more difficult to fulfill after the corruption of sin. God, in His goodness, provided instructions on how to manage and celebrate our sexuality. 

 

As the most exclusive relationship to image God's character, marriage is especially prone to corruption. Proverbs 5:15-21 encourages spouses to joyfully remain faithful to one another. Throughout Scripture, the breaking of marital vows is condemned, but here God speaks positively, exhorting His followers, “May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth” (v. 18). Contrary to the patriarchal society that ruled the Biblical eras (and continues today), the Bible teaches mutuality within a marriage. Just as the Trinity is equal in authority but distinct in function, so too must husband and wife glory in their differences while affirming equality. Ephesians 5:21-33 teaches wives and husbands to put one another's interests before their own, sacrificing themselves daily out of love for their spouse. With love and respect, marriages ought to be characterized by men and women who “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ” (v. 21). Similarly, 1 Corinthians 7:3-5 teaches physical mutuality; the husband's body belongs to the wife, and the wife's body belongs to the husband. In marriage, two individuals agree to become one, living out their God-given sexuality in exclusive relationship to another, selflessly loving each other as image bearers of the Triune God. 

 

1 Corinthians 7:32-35 exhorts single men and women to live out their sexuality inclusively. In singleness, an individual devotes himself or herself entirely to God, selflessly loving all people to the glory of God. Whether married or single, young or old, God created us as His image bearers with sexuality that causes us to desire relationship. Although it is often difficult to honor God in our relationships, He patiently teaches us how to love as He loves. Colossians 3:12-14 speaks to all followers of Christ, saying, “Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

Breaking News: Honesty is Awesome

I've long been a proponent of honesty, but somehow, I am still shocked by how lovely it really is in practice.

There's this girl at DTS who I have slowly become friends with.  And by friends, I mean we mock each other's Type A Academia and rant about humanism.  Until today, when we greeted each other in the few minutes before class started, and she said,

Her:  Would you like to be friends outside of class?
Me:  Yes!  I would!
Her:  Good, because what else would you say? 
Me:  No, I am totally satisfied with the relationship we currently have, the one in which we barely see each other.  This is good.
Her:  ...
Me:  I COULD have said that.  But no, I totally want to be your friend outside of class!

It's like, actually really nice to affirm feelings.  See, it's bombshells like these that make me such an insightful person.  Honestly, all of psychology is just this: putting labels on commonsense emotions and practices and describing things that people do every day.  And yet, somehow acknowledging and studying these simple truths makes them SO HUGE.

If you want to be someone's friend, ask to be their friend.  If you are already someone's friend and enjoy their company, tell them you are glad they are their friend!

Man, I am going to be the BEST counselor.  Just call me Captain Obvious.

The Outsider

I often feel like an outsider amongst Christians, which is weird, because I find myself thinking, "We all love God, right?  We're dependent upon Jesus's salvation?  We all think the Holy Spirit lives within us?  SO WHY DO I NOT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING YOU STAND FOR?"

Today was a great example of my outsider status.  We talked about humanistic counseling theories, which operates under the assumption that people are inherently good and that in an ideal environment of unconditional positive regard, empathy, and genuineness, people will strive for betterment.  Almost everything my professor said resonated with me.  Except...she kept talking about it as if it were ridiculous. 

And I get it, to some extent.  Everyone in the class was hung up on the idea of original sin.  People are inherently disgusting!  Ew, sin!  And, sure?  I mean, I definitely believe we are inherently selfish--we want what is best for ourselves, regardless of if it comes at someone else's cost, at a gut level.  I also believe our world is super screwed up.  There are diseases and disasters, and people treat each other like crap.  That is all there, I won't argue with you.

But I don't think that's the end of the story.  I also think people are beautiful and creative and capable of great love and sacrifice.  Men and women are created in the image of God, and that initial declaration of "very good" is still there, no matter how much we've been screwed over by the effects of sin in the world. 

I didn't mean to actually defend humanism, but I guess I did a little.  What I want to talk about is how every question asked and answered felt crazy to me.  I literally could not understand how people were so against humanistic theories.  It was like we were two different species, and since I was the one not talking and there were a whole bunch of people making comments, I thought, am I the weird one?  Am I wrong?

I kept thinking this over as I drove home, and inspiration hit when I was listening to an Emmy the Great song.  She sings about her first sexual experience, and it's strongly implied that it was against her consent.  She sings:

"Well I wish I never met you that day
You said I have a room and music to play
I have a room let me show you the way
I wish that I'd never come

But now that I have, I would do it again
I would forget that I'd piss on a grave

I would forget that I'd piss on a grave
and the words as they came to my tongue were hallelujah. Hallelujah!
And the sky was so much bluer
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
And the world was so much newer."

What is that craziness?  She wishes that she'd never been with him, but she would do it again.  It makes no sense.  AND I LOVE IT.  I love her conflicted emotions, and her desires that don't align with what she believes, and her confusion as to what happened and how to react.

That's when I realized the difference between me and the vocal majority of Christians.  My gut instinct is to make things more complex.  Other people's gut instinct is to make things simpler.   Everything makes sense now.  From my habit of loving villains (because I want to know why they are evil and what experiences made them think this was appropriate) to my definition of God (I have no desire to explain how God is both one and three, or how Jesus is both God and man--I want those paradoxes to lie hand in hand, undissected). This is also why my tag for thoughtful topics is "stubbornly hopeful skeptic."  I have no problem being a skeptically hopeful, or a doubtful believer, or a selfish lover.  These truths can co-exist, and I find joy in letting them breathe together rather, admitting the grey rather than living in black and white.

So there's my new self-awareness.  I'm happy to let people be both sinful and self-actuating.  I believe we screw each other over and build each other up.  I believe God helps us whether we are believers or doubters.  I believe we can make progress in bettering our lives and we need God.  And I know that most people don't like to see the world that way, which is why I so often feel like an outsider.

Career Change

 I've changed my mind about what I want to do with my life!  Again!

So remember when--no, of course you don't, it's my memory.  After I lived in Senegal, I took a spiritual gifts inventory, and Knowledge and Encouragement were near the top.  That made sense, because I realized one of my favorite things about being in Senegal was telling everyone about it, and then seeing my friends and family travel there themselves and work alongside the Forsythes.  I like to learn, and then I like to encourage other people to learn the same things.

Which is, well, exactly what I do with this blog and my Facebook statuses.  I stir things up, I make people think from a different angle, I share what I learn.

It should not be surprising that I am SO excited about an elective I am taking this summer.

Sexual Educator Certification I.  AW YEAH.

This is what I do.  My poor married friends know that the first thing I ask after their honeymoon is how their sex life is, and then I give advice.  I never let lack of experience stand in the way of my wisdom.  I am a fan of making people uncomfortable, which is a convenient benefit to talking about sex.  Ah, the days of living with Tim and Erin, discussing penises and male lactation.  I didn't live with Tim, he was just around a lot.

Anyway, this first class (I of III) covers three topics: single sexuality, male sexuality and married sexuality.  I AM SO STINKING READY FOR THIS. 

Last semester we learned about different counseling career paths:  lay counselor, pastoral counselor, professional counselor, or expertise counselor.  I've just been assuming I would do the traditional professional counseling, but since that class I've been waffling toward expertise counseling.  That means you, well, become an expert in a certain field, and teach it to others.  Oh ho, that sounds like what I do for fun!

Maybe married couples won't want a single woman teaching them about sexuality, but probably some won't mind.  Regardless, I'm also super excited about this single sexuality topic, and how fun it would be to reach out to a population that is largely ignored where sexuality is concerned (except to say STOP IT, IT'S ALL EVIL FOR YOU RIGHT NOW).

Literally the only thing that makes me uncomfortable with this idea is that I will have to introduce myself as "Tricia, Sex Expert."  HAHAHA just kidding that sounds awesome.

Holy Holy Holy

At chapel this morning, we sang several missions-oriented songs that largely revolved around the theme of "change me, God, give me Your heart" etc.  They left me cold.  I knew I ought to feel the lyrics, desire to live them out, but I didn't.  I don't want to change.  I don't want to sacrifice and suffer and stop being who I am so that I can become something better.

The last song we sang was "Holy, Holy, Holy" and the focus on God Himself immediately revitalized me.  Yes, this.  I cannot change myself, and I cannot even desire sanctification.  But the holy, triune God?  He is everything, He is worthy, and I will sing about Him with all my heart. 

"Holy! Holy! Holy!  Though the darkness hide thee,
Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see,
Only thou art holy; there is none beside thee,
Perfect in power, in love and purity."

I'm very tired of self-focused religion.  I understand that it is necessary to some extent, but I think the ratio ought to be split.  Let's have 80% of our worship and fellowship be about God, and only 20% be about us.  I think that might even have more of an impact on sanctification, and more powerfully, because it will be growth as a result of staring into the holy face of God, and not some struggling battle of the will.

The Sanctification of Christianity

I love to talk with Roy about what I'm learning in seminary, because as someone outside of Christianity, he points out things I don't usually see and makes me think a lot more deeply.  I told him about my latest lecture in Old Testament History, in which Dr. Allman made a case for equating the Genesis 1:28 mandate of humankind to "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it.  Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground" with the biblical theme of servant leadership.  Dr. Allman suggested that perhaps ruling over nature means serving nature--growing plants and caring for animals, helping to make them the absolute best and most beautiful that they can be.

Roy was excited that environmentalism was being taught in a seminary, and honestly, I shared the story because I wanted to impress him.  But he then took the conversation in another direction.  "It's interesting that Christianity is changing.  Do you think culture is changing it?  Like, Christians see the culture caring about certain things, so they jump on board?  Why else would people have ignored that passage for centuries?  Why is it suddenly relevant now?  Did people interpret it differently before?  Why the change?"

My brother does not cut my faith or my brain any slack.  And I'll be honest, in conversations like these, my immediate reaction is fear and an intense desire to defend, defend, defend!  But I'm trying to learn to be open and honest about both my beliefs and my doubts.  So what I ended up saying was,

"Well, I think some Christians have always cared about nature.  But yeah, we've ignored that passage for a long time, or yes, interpreted it differently.  I don't know if it's so much culture changing Christianity as it is that culture revealed this problem that Christians had been blind to for so long.  And maybe it wasn't a huge issue until lately.  The human population just blindly abused the earth, and now we're starting to realize what problems we've caused.  When a new problem arises, Christians have to go back to the Bible to see what it says about the issue.  Maybe we didn't look too hard at Genesis 1:28 because it didn't seem necessary until lately."

I tend to talk before I know what I'm saying, but as I shared my opinion I realized, wow, yeah, this is definitely my opinion.  The thing is, Christians cannot get every issue right.  We are probably not even aware of fifty thousand issues we should be dealing with.  And maybe that's okay.  Maybe we are called to deal with the issues of our time, knowing that as we find the proper worldview about one particular thing, we're missing the boat on many other important conversations.

It reminds me of myself.  For most of my time as a Christian, I have wanted to know everything and to act perfectly.  It took a lot of humility for me to accept the fact that although I am justified before God, I am still in the process of being sanctified.  A process that will not end any time while I'm alive.  So if I am an imperfect person struggling to make sense of life and culture and faith, what would a community of imperfect people look like?  The Church is simply a mass of people all struggling to make sense of life and culture and faith.

I am on a journey of sanctification, and Christianity is on its own thousands-year journey of sanctification.  Sometimes we really look good as the representatives of Jesus, and sometimes we backslide into hatred and worldly pursuits, sometimes for decades in a row.

Although I would still like to be perfect, and I would like Christians as a whole to be perfect, I know neither of those things are going to happen any time soon.  The best we can do is deal with the problems of today with as much grace and honesty as possible.  I like what Aaron Weiss said in Daniel Radosh's book about Christian pop culture Rapture Ready!:

"Sometimes I see it like a ship that we're all trying to steer together.  You set your course for truth, and if you see it going to one side, maybe it's your job to turn right.  If you see it going to the other side, it's your job to turn left.  I think if there were an overabundance of Christian culture emphasis on giving to the poor, serving the needy, visiting the prisoner and the orphan and the widow, and peacemaking, and so on, and there was never any mention of the need for prayer, the need for meditation, contemplation, fasting, the humility of confessing that ultimately it's not my efforts that are going to bring peace to the world--if the emphasis was flipped, I would probably be preaching more of that, about God's goodness in mysterious and esoteric ways.  Whereas what I see is overemphasis on holy talk and I don't see any holy action, so I've got to try and put feet to our prayers, I've got to try to put hands and fingers to language."

Being a Christian is confusing and complicated, which shouldn't surprise anyone.  Life is confusing and complicated.  None of us have completely figured out how best to live, and well, if you think you have, I would suggest you haven't thought through all the implications of your worldview.  Does that mean we should stop pursuing truth, because we can never fully attain it?  Of course not.  We should reach for truth and wrestle with doubts, all the while giving ourselves, and others, grace.

That's the only way we're going to survive this individual and communal journey of sanctification.

Unthinking Jerks

I expect seminary classes to discuss homosexuality, and I'm not surprised when my professors take the traditional evangelical position.  But what I hate is when students in class turn to smile at each other when the professor defends his conservative view or snicker at the outrageous claims of gay Christians.

I guarantee you there is someone else in class who is either gay or who loves someone who is gay.  Let's discuss things, of course.  But let's do so in kindness, yeah?

EDITED TO ADD:  I overheard this conversation in class.

Woman:  Do you know *this show*?  There are lesbians!  In your face!  It's not a joke anymore, or something hidden.  I just can't believe it.
Girl:  Yeah, and she's just so pretty.  It's too bad.

I just can't.  I honestly don't know where to begin with all the unthinking ideas exhibited in that conversation.  I'm not saying all Christians need to accept gay relationships.  I know that won't happen.  But I'd like to think people can understand and be respectful of people regardless.  Or else why don't we say, "Did you see that show with a divorced couple!?  Can you believe it?  And in one episode, the whole plot hung on a LIE.  The shock!"

Think of something as sin, sure, but it's not necessary to be rude.  And also, people aren't lesbians because they're so ugly they can't snag a man.  How is that even?  I can't.

Okay, I can't let it go.  What is the point of media but to display stories, true people and true situations.  Media at its best doesn't pass judgment, it just shows.  Sometimes it does pass judgment, but the simple fact of having lesbians in a show does not automatically pass judgment.  It just says, "lesbians exist.  we're honoring that by letting them have adventures and drama too."  I see absolutely nothing wrong with that.  If all media only included perfect people, it would be Jesus sitting by Himself.  That is not the point of media.

Halfway Through the Semester (in a winter sort of way)

I am three days into my five day class.  I wake up at 6:45, drive half an hour to school, attend class from 8:00-5:00 with an hour lunch break, drive half an hour to pick Ketan and Anju up from school, then work until 9:30.  I was handling this 14-hour schedule really well for like, two days.  Which, to be fair, is the equivalent of going to class for two months.

But right now I am DYING.  And I want to read fun things.  And what is television?  And SLEEP.  And ugh, I'd like to stop wearing my glasses.  Oh, and I contracted for a B so that I don't have to write a final 20-page paper, and it's the first time I've ever chosen to get a B, and I'm really proud of myself for doing this because it's a big character development moment for me, but I'm worried about people yelling at it for me and making me doubt myself so I'm just slipping it in here.

Despite my extreme level of tired, I think I would definitely do a January class again.  It's the kind of challenge I like to force myself to achieve.  This is pretty much a student's marathon run.  I CAN DO THIS AND I WILL FEEL SO GOOD FOR IT. 

Because I'm never going to run a real marathon.  The girl next to me in class tried to make small talk and said,

Girl:  Do you run?
Me:  "HAHAHAH no."
Girl:  I'm thinking of joining a running club.
Me:  That could be good.  I hear people do that and enjoy it.
Girl:  Yeah!  I mean, you could totally join one, there are some near school.
Me:  No, no.  I will never join a running club.  But that's good for you.
Girl:  Oh, you could--
Me:  No.

I'm tired.

Feminist Ears

There is a danger in being a feminist.  You learn to see sexism and misogyny so engrained in our culture and laced throughout conversations that--you see it everywhere.

In class on Tuesday, Dr. Bailey asked who you bring a gallon of cider for our last-class-party.  Michal Ann whipped her head to stare at me, and almost immediately her face fell into an embarrassed smile.

"I thought he said 'what gal wants to bring cider?'" she admitted, and we giggled into our hands.

"It's everywhere!" I whispered.

"I know, I hear it everywhere.  I'm so on edge."

Also, Michal Ann is leaving next semester.  I finally found a passionate Christian feminist (who loves Lord of the Rings and hates exercising!), and she is leaving.  I'm quite sad about this.