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.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Further Tattoo Thoughts
Alright, so it's been a week. What is it like to have a tattoo for a week, everyone desperately wants to know.
Well, it healed super fast. If I slammed my wrist against the edge of a desk, I'm sure it would hurt, but then again, it usually does. Other than that, it feels fine.
It's very slightly raised, and I don't know if that will stay. I kind of hope so, but I have a feeling it won't.
It's definitely weird. I mean, I knew it was permanent before I got it. But it's totally different, seeing something on my skin and knowing it will ALWAYS BE THERE. I don't regret it or anything like that, it's just strange. I guess it's what people feel after getting married, realizing, "Whoa, I knew I was going to spend my life with this person, but now it's real. We're really together forever."
In related news, I think I just found another really good reason for me to have gotten a tattoo. If anyone needs to practice commitment, it's me!
My grade school best friend Facebooked me some really fantastic information. She said the root of courage is "coer" which is heart. She also mentioned that the ancient meaning of coer was "the heart as the seat of intellect and imagination." HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF SOMETHING SO PERFECT FOR ME? I didn't think so.
Anyway, I'm still in love, it's strange in ways I didn't expect, and no one has reacted extremely negatively (to my face)!
Well, it healed super fast. If I slammed my wrist against the edge of a desk, I'm sure it would hurt, but then again, it usually does. Other than that, it feels fine.
It's very slightly raised, and I don't know if that will stay. I kind of hope so, but I have a feeling it won't.
It's definitely weird. I mean, I knew it was permanent before I got it. But it's totally different, seeing something on my skin and knowing it will ALWAYS BE THERE. I don't regret it or anything like that, it's just strange. I guess it's what people feel after getting married, realizing, "Whoa, I knew I was going to spend my life with this person, but now it's real. We're really together forever."
In related news, I think I just found another really good reason for me to have gotten a tattoo. If anyone needs to practice commitment, it's me!
My grade school best friend Facebooked me some really fantastic information. She said the root of courage is "coer" which is heart. She also mentioned that the ancient meaning of coer was "the heart as the seat of intellect and imagination." HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF SOMETHING SO PERFECT FOR ME? I didn't think so.
Anyway, I'm still in love, it's strange in ways I didn't expect, and no one has reacted extremely negatively (to my face)!
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Courage, Dear Heart
I drank coffee too near to sleeping, and instead I lay awake thinking about my tattoo. "Courage, dear heart," Aslan whispered in Lucy's ear. I smiled at the idea that God might whisper those words to me. That was nice. What a fun game. I started thinking about what else God might whisper to me.
"Stop doing that."
"You can do better."
I curled under my sheets, twisting into myself. God doesn't say those things, I know. I KNOW, right? But immediately that's what I imagined. God wants me to try harder, to avoid sin, to display the fruits of the Spirit. I should be more than I am. That is what the god of my imagination demanded.
In immediate contrast, I had "Courage, dear heart" carved into my skin. I pressed into the sore flesh to remind myself of the words in the dark. Maybe they were truer words than the ones cycling through my thoughts. I desperately wanted to believe that God would see my failures and my self-righteous striving and instead of commenting on any of those things, He would say, "Courage, dear heart." He would remind me that this is not the end, and that holding on to Him is all I need to do.
I will be courageous if He will make me courageous.
"Stop doing that."
"You can do better."
I curled under my sheets, twisting into myself. God doesn't say those things, I know. I KNOW, right? But immediately that's what I imagined. God wants me to try harder, to avoid sin, to display the fruits of the Spirit. I should be more than I am. That is what the god of my imagination demanded.
In immediate contrast, I had "Courage, dear heart" carved into my skin. I pressed into the sore flesh to remind myself of the words in the dark. Maybe they were truer words than the ones cycling through my thoughts. I desperately wanted to believe that God would see my failures and my self-righteous striving and instead of commenting on any of those things, He would say, "Courage, dear heart." He would remind me that this is not the end, and that holding on to Him is all I need to do.
I will be courageous if He will make me courageous.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Mystery Poem
I've been writing poetry irregularly regular, and when flipping through my notebook I came across this one written on a post-it with purple pen, which means I wrote it in the car at a stoplight.
Our conversation killed a million futures;
The maybes and what-ifs no longer have power.
One question,
One answer,
And suddenly I know
Who I am and
Where I am going.
THAT IS SO DRAMATIC. But I have no idea what I was talking about! This was written in the last couple weeks. That is not long ago. What could possibly have happened that inspired me to write this, but which wasn't important enough to remember? I'm so intrigued by my mysterious past.
Our conversation killed a million futures;
The maybes and what-ifs no longer have power.
One question,
One answer,
And suddenly I know
Who I am and
Where I am going.
THAT IS SO DRAMATIC. But I have no idea what I was talking about! This was written in the last couple weeks. That is not long ago. What could possibly have happened that inspired me to write this, but which wasn't important enough to remember? I'm so intrigued by my mysterious past.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
The Why of Getting a Tattoo
I grew up thinking Christians with tattoos were spiritually suspect. That judgment must not have run very deep, however, because I was simultaneously in love with the idea of them. I'm a symbolic person, and engraving symbols onto your body? That is right up my alley. I love the physicality, the permanence, the commitment.
Once I concretely decided that Leviticus was referring to cultic practices and being a holy temple was more about the insides than the outsides, I got serious thinking about tattoos. For a while in college I wanted a name of God or a title of God in Greek or Hebrew. But I didn't really like how they looked aesthetically, and then I got weirded out by the idea of labeling myself with a name for God.
A few short-term desires later, I landed on "Courage, dear heart." This is a quote from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. In this scene, the Narnians have sailed into the Island of Darkness, where all their dreams come true. Sounds good, but actually those dreams are nightmares, and everyone is freaking out. From the top of the ship, Lucy sees something, a bright something which guides the ship out of darkness into light, a something that reveals itself as an albatross, but which whispers to her in Aslan's voice, "Courage, dear heart."
My love for this quote is many-fold. I've always known I would want a word as my tattoo. I am a word person far more than a picture person. I love that it is a quote from a book. I love both books and quotes. I love that it is spiritual, and very much refers to Jesus and my walk following Him, but isn't IN YOUR FACE. I think it invites conversation rather than blocks it.
More specifically, I love the command to be courageous. I've heard that "be strong and courageous" (and similarly stated phrases) are the most numerous commands of the Bible, and I believe it. When dealing with a mysterious and great God as well as a dark and scary world, the thing people most need to hear is, "You can get through this. Keep walking. Be strong." So the courage part of the tattoo is necessary.
And the "dear heart"? That is the icing on the cake. Not only does God desire for us to be courageous, He reminds us WHY we can act courageously. We can follow Him through darkness and fear and uncertainty because He loves us, because He looks fondly upon us and calls us "dear heart." That mix of bold determination and loving tenderness is just the best.
Alright, so it's a great quote. But did I really need to tattoo it to my body? Yes. Because here's the thing. Tattoos are permanent. Gasp! People have frequently asked me whether I will regret it, or maybe grow out of it. And yeah, I'm 100% sure there will be times I wish this were not on my wrist. And I'm getting it tattooed because of that. I want to be reminded of God's promises and affections, because all too often I try to run away from those truths. I don't want to be courageous. I want to run away from God and do my own thing, and hearing His loving voice is the last thing I need.
In those moments, I can't run away from my own skin. I now carry around with me a physical, permanent reminder of God's goodness, grace, and call. Someday I may fall away from the faith, temporarily or permanently. I don't know. But I do know that I don't want that decision to be easy. I want it to be painful, and I want as many obstacles in place to make it difficult.
I also want the reminder for more immediate pains, not just the long slide into doubt. There will be deaths of loved ones in my future. I'm going to lose people, and I'm going to run into things that make me cry out, "God, what are You doing!? Why do You allow these things to happen!?" I am sure that the worst times in my life are in my future, and when they come, I want to take desperate comfort in my tattoo that reminds me that in my darkest hours, an albatross might fly by and whisper in my ear.
Also, I definitely want to be a grandma who sits her grandkids on her lap, and one of them might touch my wrist and giggle, because what? This old wrinkled lady has ink on her skin! I want them to laugh at me, and ask about it, and I'll share my stories with them. I'll be buried carrying this tattoo (unless my arm is amputated at some point, in which case I will definitely need to re-ink the reminder to be courageous!). Then I'll walk into the next life, and I won't have the ink anymore because I'll no longer need to be reminded to be brave, and I'll never again doubt the reassurance that God considers me dear.
Once I concretely decided that Leviticus was referring to cultic practices and being a holy temple was more about the insides than the outsides, I got serious thinking about tattoos. For a while in college I wanted a name of God or a title of God in Greek or Hebrew. But I didn't really like how they looked aesthetically, and then I got weirded out by the idea of labeling myself with a name for God.
A few short-term desires later, I landed on "Courage, dear heart." This is a quote from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. In this scene, the Narnians have sailed into the Island of Darkness, where all their dreams come true. Sounds good, but actually those dreams are nightmares, and everyone is freaking out. From the top of the ship, Lucy sees something, a bright something which guides the ship out of darkness into light, a something that reveals itself as an albatross, but which whispers to her in Aslan's voice, "Courage, dear heart."
My love for this quote is many-fold. I've always known I would want a word as my tattoo. I am a word person far more than a picture person. I love that it is a quote from a book. I love both books and quotes. I love that it is spiritual, and very much refers to Jesus and my walk following Him, but isn't IN YOUR FACE. I think it invites conversation rather than blocks it.
More specifically, I love the command to be courageous. I've heard that "be strong and courageous" (and similarly stated phrases) are the most numerous commands of the Bible, and I believe it. When dealing with a mysterious and great God as well as a dark and scary world, the thing people most need to hear is, "You can get through this. Keep walking. Be strong." So the courage part of the tattoo is necessary.
And the "dear heart"? That is the icing on the cake. Not only does God desire for us to be courageous, He reminds us WHY we can act courageously. We can follow Him through darkness and fear and uncertainty because He loves us, because He looks fondly upon us and calls us "dear heart." That mix of bold determination and loving tenderness is just the best.
Alright, so it's a great quote. But did I really need to tattoo it to my body? Yes. Because here's the thing. Tattoos are permanent. Gasp! People have frequently asked me whether I will regret it, or maybe grow out of it. And yeah, I'm 100% sure there will be times I wish this were not on my wrist. And I'm getting it tattooed because of that. I want to be reminded of God's promises and affections, because all too often I try to run away from those truths. I don't want to be courageous. I want to run away from God and do my own thing, and hearing His loving voice is the last thing I need.
In those moments, I can't run away from my own skin. I now carry around with me a physical, permanent reminder of God's goodness, grace, and call. Someday I may fall away from the faith, temporarily or permanently. I don't know. But I do know that I don't want that decision to be easy. I want it to be painful, and I want as many obstacles in place to make it difficult.
I also want the reminder for more immediate pains, not just the long slide into doubt. There will be deaths of loved ones in my future. I'm going to lose people, and I'm going to run into things that make me cry out, "God, what are You doing!? Why do You allow these things to happen!?" I am sure that the worst times in my life are in my future, and when they come, I want to take desperate comfort in my tattoo that reminds me that in my darkest hours, an albatross might fly by and whisper in my ear.
Also, I definitely want to be a grandma who sits her grandkids on her lap, and one of them might touch my wrist and giggle, because what? This old wrinkled lady has ink on her skin! I want them to laugh at me, and ask about it, and I'll share my stories with them. I'll be buried carrying this tattoo (unless my arm is amputated at some point, in which case I will definitely need to re-ink the reminder to be courageous!). Then I'll walk into the next life, and I won't have the ink anymore because I'll no longer need to be reminded to be brave, and I'll never again doubt the reassurance that God considers me dear.
The How of Getting a Tattoo
I've wanted to get "Courage, dear heart" tattooed on my person for years. Probably around five. This past year it became a more insistent thought, and in November I decided that if I still passionately wanted the tattoo by my 25th birthday, that would be the day. Today is my 25th birthday! And I got the tattoo.
Emily gave me a journal with "courage, dear heart" written on the cover, so I took that in. My tattoo artist tweaked it a little, but mostly kept the design the same. I knew what I wanted, but my default reaction is one of laid-back compliance.
Tattoo artist: This would look better stacked.
Me: Yeah, okay.
Tattoo artist: Actually, maybe we could do it in two lines?
Me: Yeah, okay.
Now, let me be clear. I've thought about this for five years. I knew what I wanted. Yet still I did whatever he told me. Thankfully, I had Liz along.
Tattoo artist: Sign this form.
Me: Okay, cool.
Liz: How long will it take for her to heal?
Me: Oh yeah, that's a good question.
Tattoo artist: Seven to ten days.
Liz: And what should she do as treatment? Should she avoid anything? What if something goes wrong, can she come back? How long have you been in this business?
My tattoo artist was awesome, though. I completely understand how repeat tattoo receivers become friends with their artists. My guy was also pretty chill and desperately sarcastic.
Tattoo artist: Alright, we're getting started. Your job is to hold still.
Me: What if I jump because it hurts?
Tattoo artist: ...Try not to do that.
He bandaged me up with saran wrap and went to take a call while Liz and I gazed adoringly at my body art. Liz realized he had forgotten to add the comma, so we waited for him to come back out.
Me: The comma!
Tattoo artist: Aw, s***! No problem, just sit down. I knew I would forget that.
Me: Me too. That's why Liz is here.
And then it was done! And I was tattooed! We went outside and I danced in place, got in the car, and screamed, "I HAVE A TATTOO."
Emily gave me a journal with "courage, dear heart" written on the cover, so I took that in. My tattoo artist tweaked it a little, but mostly kept the design the same. I knew what I wanted, but my default reaction is one of laid-back compliance.
Tattoo artist: This would look better stacked.
Me: Yeah, okay.
Tattoo artist: Actually, maybe we could do it in two lines?
Me: Yeah, okay.
Now, let me be clear. I've thought about this for five years. I knew what I wanted. Yet still I did whatever he told me. Thankfully, I had Liz along.
Tattoo artist: Sign this form.
Me: Okay, cool.
Liz: How long will it take for her to heal?
Me: Oh yeah, that's a good question.
Tattoo artist: Seven to ten days.
Liz: And what should she do as treatment? Should she avoid anything? What if something goes wrong, can she come back? How long have you been in this business?
My tattoo artist was awesome, though. I completely understand how repeat tattoo receivers become friends with their artists. My guy was also pretty chill and desperately sarcastic.
Tattoo artist: Alright, we're getting started. Your job is to hold still.
Me: What if I jump because it hurts?
Tattoo artist: ...Try not to do that.
He bandaged me up with saran wrap and went to take a call while Liz and I gazed adoringly at my body art. Liz realized he had forgotten to add the comma, so we waited for him to come back out.
Me: The comma!
Tattoo artist: Aw, s***! No problem, just sit down. I knew I would forget that.
Me: Me too. That's why Liz is here.
And then it was done! And I was tattooed! We went outside and I danced in place, got in the car, and screamed, "I HAVE A TATTOO."
Sunday, March 17, 2013
25th Birthday Party
I excitedly invited several people from my various worlds (church, school, family dinners) to my birthday, but almost everyone couldn't come. It was kind of depressing, but Liz introduced me to Bastille, an AWESOME new band, so the two of us had a dance party as we waited for anyone to show up.
Jessica, Bridgett, and Laura arrived, and we ate pizza in our backyard on a Senegalese mat. The picnic was made even better as we discussed embarrassing childhood obsessions and related the best scenes from Pitch Perfect. Then Chad and Melissa showed up! We all went inside to avoid mosquitos and were just about to cut into the cake when Gus also appeared! It was a legit party.
We had tea and cake, and we went through a couple Table Topics questions. After two okay questions, I pulled "How would the world be different if it were matriarchal instead of patriarchal?" That spiraled into a discussion on feminist nuns and wages and equality. After ten minutes I couldn't stand it, and I burst out, "We are sitting around talking about feminism and the patriarchy on my birthday! This is the best!" They accused me of screening the cards, and it was lovely.
After taking some pictures, Amy showed up, because her flight was delayed. We housemate bonded for a while after everyone else left. It was perfect, and it's not even my real birthday yet.
Jessica, Bridgett, and Laura arrived, and we ate pizza in our backyard on a Senegalese mat. The picnic was made even better as we discussed embarrassing childhood obsessions and related the best scenes from Pitch Perfect. Then Chad and Melissa showed up! We all went inside to avoid mosquitos and were just about to cut into the cake when Gus also appeared! It was a legit party.
We had tea and cake, and we went through a couple Table Topics questions. After two okay questions, I pulled "How would the world be different if it were matriarchal instead of patriarchal?" That spiraled into a discussion on feminist nuns and wages and equality. After ten minutes I couldn't stand it, and I burst out, "We are sitting around talking about feminism and the patriarchy on my birthday! This is the best!" They accused me of screening the cards, and it was lovely.
After taking some pictures, Amy showed up, because her flight was delayed. We housemate bonded for a while after everyone else left. It was perfect, and it's not even my real birthday yet.
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