I'm supposed to be writing an essay about refugees right now, and how it's an international issue. Shouldn't be that hard, right? Wrong. Maybe the hardest essay I've ever written in my entire life, and I don't know why. I cannot seem to get myself going. I don't know what to write, where to begin, or what to say. I have nothing to add to the conversation. I wish I could just write a big long rant, about how much I bleed for these people, about the tears I shed, about the depth and width of my love and concern and profound, profound heartbreak. I'm getting that drowning feeling again. Like I just don't know what to go, or where to turn. Except the difference is that now I know I have the strength of God to lean on. Doesn't always make it easier though. I mean, it does, infinitely so, but at the same time it doesn't. It doesn't detract from their suffering, or the way I break for them. Sometimes I wonder if the majority of the rest of the world feels as deeply as I do... and mostly I don't think so. But doesn't that make me arrogant to assume that somehow I have the capability to feel in ways others don't? I don't know... I honestly don't.
Ugh. I hate this essay. I hate this conundrum. I hate this feeling. I don't want to write this essay. And yet I do. But I don't. It's just not coming out... my brain is not producing anything right now. Nothing. Zip. I'm hungry. I'm overwhelmed. I'm consumed with other problems right now. I wish I could not multitask. I wish I could just turn my brain off and write.
New plan: Journal. maybe paint. Get right with God. Think. Pray. Get sleep tonight. Write tomorrow.
Please pray that I can be patient with myself. And that I can focus and have discipline in all areas.
Sunday, October 31
Thursday, October 21
Boys and Girls
So, there's this new campaign called "Fat Talk Free Week". I think their facebook page explains pretty well what they mean:
It was started by a Tri Delta sorority, and is now a national campaign to spend a week without "talking fat". I think it's a great idea! But there are people out there who don't. They say that this promotes an unhealthy lifestyle by telling people they don't need to work out or worry about what they look like. Firstly, I'd just like to point out that almost all the blogs, reports, and articles I've read against this type of movement are from guys: Boys, if you don't support this, shut your damn mouth! Either back girls behind this or get out! I'm not saying boys don't deal with their own self esteem issues, but I'm sorry, boys, you have NO IDEA what it feels like to be a girl. None. At all. So shut up. I'm so sick of hearing about this.
I'm learning how to work out because I love my body, not because I hate it. I'm learning how to eat right because I love me. I'm learning how do everything I do out of self-love rather than self-hate. If people can learn to love their bodies, everything else will fall into place. It's when we start hating our bodies that problems (like eating disorders - including binge eating) occur. See, when I love my body I can say, gosh I should work out regularly. But when I miss a day because I'm busy or sick, I can also accept that that's ok, that maybe my body needs sleep and rest right now more than it needs to burn 400 calories an hour doing an intense workout. And I'm still leading a healthy life.
So PUT A SOCK IN IT guys.
Here's a letter I found a while ago on the TWLOHA page, and I think it's a letter every woman should read, and then write one herself.
Fat Talk describes all of the statements made in everyday conversation that reinforce the thin ideal and contribute to women’s dissatisfaction with their bodies.
Examples of fat talk include: “I’m so fat,” “Do I look fat in this?” “I need to lose 10 pounds” and “She’s too fat to be wearing that swimsuit.”
Statements that are considered fat talk don’t necessarily have to be negative; they can seem positive yet reinforce the need to be thin. E.g., “You look great! Have you lost weight?”
It was started by a Tri Delta sorority, and is now a national campaign to spend a week without "talking fat". I think it's a great idea! But there are people out there who don't. They say that this promotes an unhealthy lifestyle by telling people they don't need to work out or worry about what they look like. Firstly, I'd just like to point out that almost all the blogs, reports, and articles I've read against this type of movement are from guys: Boys, if you don't support this, shut your damn mouth! Either back girls behind this or get out! I'm not saying boys don't deal with their own self esteem issues, but I'm sorry, boys, you have NO IDEA what it feels like to be a girl. None. At all. So shut up. I'm so sick of hearing about this.
I'm learning how to work out because I love my body, not because I hate it. I'm learning how to eat right because I love me. I'm learning how do everything I do out of self-love rather than self-hate. If people can learn to love their bodies, everything else will fall into place. It's when we start hating our bodies that problems (like eating disorders - including binge eating) occur. See, when I love my body I can say, gosh I should work out regularly. But when I miss a day because I'm busy or sick, I can also accept that that's ok, that maybe my body needs sleep and rest right now more than it needs to burn 400 calories an hour doing an intense workout. And I'm still leading a healthy life.
So PUT A SOCK IN IT guys.
Here's a letter I found a while ago on the TWLOHA page, and I think it's a letter every woman should read, and then write one herself.
Dear Body,
I’ve always let some imperfection or another stand in the way of me seeing what you truly are, that you are beautiful. You are a divine creation housing the most valuable thing known to the universe, my soul. I’m beginning to realize that a person’s soul has the capacity to radiate light that transcends all the characteristics that I have been conditioned to believe are flaws.
You naturally tell a story. Your blue-green veins are like a map to where your heart has been and where it is going. The curve of your waist and the shape of your cheekbones tell a tale of heritage and ethnicity. There are crayon markings on the wall somewhere that has measured your height throughout the years. Always returning to the same spot to see how you’ve changed.
Your eyes bare resemblance to nature. They are a deep forest green with golden yellow sunflower flecks. Your faded birthmark, once beet red, brought me shame because all I wanted was to conform. It now reminds me of how unique you are and all I want is to be different.
Your body begins as a story but continues with new chapters throughout your life. Some are chapters of sadness and pain, others of joy, and all of growth. Each chapter a blank canvas meant to be painted by our experiences. Photos are memories but so are our bodies in a way that’s more real, no posing and no fakeness.
I’m realizing these things now, but I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize them before. I’ve done everything I could to destroy the canvas and deface and burn the pages of different chapters.
I’ve waged war on you before; used razor blades to feel and drugs to numb. I’ve used caffeine to stay awake and alcohol to sleep. Abusing the side effects of my prescription drugs like loss of appetite, to deliberately starve myself into making you skinnier. I’ve spent far too much time on a scale that merely weighs your effect on gravity, not the depth of your beauty. I wanted you to look like one of those girls in the magazines.
But in the ruins there is still a canvas. There is still beauty in your brokenness. The faded scars show healing reminding me that even though I’ve been in dark places, I’ve survived and learned and become stronger.
Although the war is over, the world still takes its toll. You have calluses on your hands from me writing too much and concentrating too hard. Yet the words are beautiful and the studying is worth it. You have the ache when it rains from broken bones, and stretch marks from growing too fast. You have burns from jobs and scars from falls. But those experiences were worth it.
Dear body, as I grow older I worry about how you will age. Together we gain wisdom and wrinkles, after being young and beautiful and naïve. The wisdom tells us that the beauty doesn’t subside, it only changes, and more of it comes from within. So I won’t worry when my hair doesn’t look just right, or when I do something stupidly funny and emerge with another scar because you are telling a story. And what would I be without my story and my past?
I’ve always let some imperfection or another stand in the way of me seeing what you truly are, that you are beautiful. You are a divine creation housing the most valuable thing known to the universe, my soul. I’m beginning to realize that a person’s soul has the capacity to radiate light that transcends all the characteristics that I have been conditioned to believe are flaws.
You naturally tell a story. Your blue-green veins are like a map to where your heart has been and where it is going. The curve of your waist and the shape of your cheekbones tell a tale of heritage and ethnicity. There are crayon markings on the wall somewhere that has measured your height throughout the years. Always returning to the same spot to see how you’ve changed.
Your eyes bare resemblance to nature. They are a deep forest green with golden yellow sunflower flecks. Your faded birthmark, once beet red, brought me shame because all I wanted was to conform. It now reminds me of how unique you are and all I want is to be different.
Your body begins as a story but continues with new chapters throughout your life. Some are chapters of sadness and pain, others of joy, and all of growth. Each chapter a blank canvas meant to be painted by our experiences. Photos are memories but so are our bodies in a way that’s more real, no posing and no fakeness.
I’m realizing these things now, but I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize them before. I’ve done everything I could to destroy the canvas and deface and burn the pages of different chapters.
I’ve waged war on you before; used razor blades to feel and drugs to numb. I’ve used caffeine to stay awake and alcohol to sleep. Abusing the side effects of my prescription drugs like loss of appetite, to deliberately starve myself into making you skinnier. I’ve spent far too much time on a scale that merely weighs your effect on gravity, not the depth of your beauty. I wanted you to look like one of those girls in the magazines.
But in the ruins there is still a canvas. There is still beauty in your brokenness. The faded scars show healing reminding me that even though I’ve been in dark places, I’ve survived and learned and become stronger.
Although the war is over, the world still takes its toll. You have calluses on your hands from me writing too much and concentrating too hard. Yet the words are beautiful and the studying is worth it. You have the ache when it rains from broken bones, and stretch marks from growing too fast. You have burns from jobs and scars from falls. But those experiences were worth it.
Dear body, as I grow older I worry about how you will age. Together we gain wisdom and wrinkles, after being young and beautiful and naïve. The wisdom tells us that the beauty doesn’t subside, it only changes, and more of it comes from within. So I won’t worry when my hair doesn’t look just right, or when I do something stupidly funny and emerge with another scar because you are telling a story. And what would I be without my story and my past?
Tuesday, October 12
Things I [didn't] Learn in Sunday School
The last 6 months have been absolutely indescribable for me. For those of you who know me, you may be able to see, or hear about, some of the changes that have been going on in my life (both internal and external); and let me assure you, there have been A LOT of them. I don't know how to describe it, or how it even happened, but suddenly I'm a completely different person.
One of the most significant things that different about me is that I have a newfound faith - something that's not entirely new, but definitely rediscovered, re-invented, redefined, and completely new from anything else in my life, ever. And I'm discovering that I simply cannot get enough of God. I've been going to church regularly (more than once a week, which for those of you who know me is a HUGE deal), I've been simply soaking myself in studying God's word and God's person, prayer, fellowship, meditation, and learning. And from that, I'd like to share a few things that I've recently learned that I was never taught in 18 years of going to Sunday School:
One of the most significant things that different about me is that I have a newfound faith - something that's not entirely new, but definitely rediscovered, re-invented, redefined, and completely new from anything else in my life, ever. And I'm discovering that I simply cannot get enough of God. I've been going to church regularly (more than once a week, which for those of you who know me is a HUGE deal), I've been simply soaking myself in studying God's word and God's person, prayer, fellowship, meditation, and learning. And from that, I'd like to share a few things that I've recently learned that I was never taught in 18 years of going to Sunday School:
- Acts 2:42-47 -- This is what a christian community should be about! This is a church.
- God's material blessings to me and those around me is, in fact, a true BLESSING. It's what we do with these blessings that matters - and God calls us to use our material blessings to help others, not shed our blessings to be with others. There's a distinct and important difference, and it's something I struggle with.
- Regarding Doubts: "if you see through everything you see nothing. The point of doubt isn't to see 'through' everything, but to see what's on the other side."
- God has blessed each of His followers with EVERY SPIRITUAL BLESSING that could be.
- God's plan A was the church. This was not His plan B or C or "collateral damage". THIS is the plan.
- Regarding Testimonies: Most people emphasize the "how bad they were before God" part. Shouldn't we be telling the story opposite; that is, shouldn't we be living radical, crazy lives AFTER we were transformed for Jesus? Shouldn't that be the glorified part? The "wow" part?
- If a stranger were to walk into a church, they should look around at the people and say, "what on earth could bring every single one of these people here? They are all so different - what could they possibly have in common?"
- Your life with God is like a bullseye, with God at the center. People are all over, facing different directions, walking different directions, some are close to the center some are far out. Obviously God cares about where we are in relation to Him, but more importantly, God cares which direction we are facing. If we are in the center but facing out, looking back at where we came from, at all of the great things we've done, at all the hoops we've jumped through, we've completely missed the point. God wants us to be facing him and walking forward, no matter where we are on the circle.
- God has entrusted me with the Gospel, and it is my responsibility to share it.
- We don't have to be perfect to come to God, but we do have to be ready to be perfected.
- Sometimes we grab a hold of an idea before God is done talking. We need to let God finish His sentences.
- God wants to do something ORIGINAL in me. Not something he's never done before -- something ORIGINAL. As in, original to His plan. Original to how He intended things to be. Original - back to the origins.
- Our spirituality is more important than our physicality.
- God often talks of His inheritance IN US. WE are God's inheritance!
- God is BIG!!!! (This is maybe my favorite thing about God... every time it makes me fall in love all over again.)
- God calls us to do nothing to discredit His name... and that's a big task!
- Prophecy and the Bible is actually NOT up to interpretation - God had only one meaning and one purpose to His word. (This is not to say that discussion should be squelched, or that His word isn't worth reading over again and again because there are many layers to things, but rather that each of those layers and facets to His word has only one true meaning as God intended. It is up to us to figure out what that is.)
- This is all temporary. The book of Revelations is my comfort many days.
Saturday, October 2
Brides and Hatred
Church Membership has been on my mind lately. Mostly because I'm contemplating becoming and official member of a church here in DC. I've always (ok, not always, but definitely the last 5 years) had a huge issue with organized religion. It wasn't always that way; I grew up in the church, and I remember through 5th, 6th, 7th grade telling people that I actually enjoyed going to church. Weird? Maybe. A good thing? I don't know. Maybe - it led me to a lot of suffering, but ultimately was part of the Great Symphony. Even after having "re-discovered" my faith, I found it hard to find myself comfortable in a church setting.... After everything I'd been through, I just wasn't entirely sure I wanted to put myself in that situation again. For a while, I thought, "well, I believe, and that's good enough. Some people need a church community, for some people it fosters growth, but not for me. I don't need that. I can just believe by myself, after all, this is between me and God, right?" (In retrospect, that was just delusional... as an extrovert, regardless of it's biblical context or necessity, I need community.) Once I realized that the Christian faith was not supposed to be lived out in caves by ourselves, I thought to myself - well, I have good Christian friends, I can talk to them, enjoy time with them, and that will just be my version of church, my community, I don't need a formal church to be a part of, because that only leads to problems. I can have my own church. And for a while, that was fine.
And so I just lived with a lot of anxiety, a lot of fear and anger and avoidance and resentment about the church built up inside me - mostly fear. But then, spontaneously, God convicted me that church was, in fact, a good thing (I've not the slightest clue about how God was able to change my heart like that - it literally happened instantaneously, He convinced me that this was so and that I was never going to be afraid of church again. What?! This is a question I plan on asking when I get to heaven...). And that it was maybe something I was going to need out here, all by myself. And so instead of God asking me to overcome my fear, He just took it away. Which in a way, was even scarier... But suddenly I didn't have any excuses anymore. And so I decided that I needed to start looking for a church.
And then God put one in my lap. It's this great place called Restoration church. It's super close to campus, people there are wonderfully nice and welcoming, and I already feel like I'm at home there (which, I have to admit, is still a weird feeling). And they do formal church membership, which involves a class and some other stuff. It was weird to me at first, because even though I grew up around church, not every church has formal membership, or a formal process to become a member, and since mine didn't I really had no idea what to expect. So I went to the class just to see what this whole thing was about. It was interesting. Different. Challenging. Open. Thoughtfully and tactfully put together. And during the process, we discussed the biblical foundations of church membership and the church as a whole. It wasn't something I'd thought about (or liked the idea of, really), that God not just gives us the opportunity for, but actively demands and expects that we be part of a church...
But I was listening to a sermon yesterday about the church, and the pastor discussed the church in the context of 3 analogies commonly used in the New Testament - the family, the body, and the bride. At the very end of the sermon, in discussing us as Christ's bride, he used the analogy of someone walking up to him and saying, "Gosh, J. I really like you, you're so funny and smart - I really hate your wife, D. - but you're just so awesome!" I wasn't following until he equated it to us saying, "God, I love you but I hate your bride."... ouch! I'd never thought about it that way before. And it then occurred to me that Paul's analogy to the body of Christ is similar - a Hand cannot expect to survive alone... it can't even survive if it's near a body, or occasionally interacts with an Eye and a Toe... but rather it must be attached to an entire body to even be alive, much less thrive and be active. The hand can be cut off to preserve the body, but the body cannot be cut off to preserve the hand.
So I don't know if i will officially be a member of Restoration or not - I'm still praying about that one. But I am more convinced than ever that the church, although flawed, is essential. Body, here I come!
And so I just lived with a lot of anxiety, a lot of fear and anger and avoidance and resentment about the church built up inside me - mostly fear. But then, spontaneously, God convicted me that church was, in fact, a good thing (I've not the slightest clue about how God was able to change my heart like that - it literally happened instantaneously, He convinced me that this was so and that I was never going to be afraid of church again. What?! This is a question I plan on asking when I get to heaven...). And that it was maybe something I was going to need out here, all by myself. And so instead of God asking me to overcome my fear, He just took it away. Which in a way, was even scarier... But suddenly I didn't have any excuses anymore. And so I decided that I needed to start looking for a church.
And then God put one in my lap. It's this great place called Restoration church. It's super close to campus, people there are wonderfully nice and welcoming, and I already feel like I'm at home there (which, I have to admit, is still a weird feeling). And they do formal church membership, which involves a class and some other stuff. It was weird to me at first, because even though I grew up around church, not every church has formal membership, or a formal process to become a member, and since mine didn't I really had no idea what to expect. So I went to the class just to see what this whole thing was about. It was interesting. Different. Challenging. Open. Thoughtfully and tactfully put together. And during the process, we discussed the biblical foundations of church membership and the church as a whole. It wasn't something I'd thought about (or liked the idea of, really), that God not just gives us the opportunity for, but actively demands and expects that we be part of a church...
But I was listening to a sermon yesterday about the church, and the pastor discussed the church in the context of 3 analogies commonly used in the New Testament - the family, the body, and the bride. At the very end of the sermon, in discussing us as Christ's bride, he used the analogy of someone walking up to him and saying, "Gosh, J. I really like you, you're so funny and smart - I really hate your wife, D. - but you're just so awesome!" I wasn't following until he equated it to us saying, "God, I love you but I hate your bride."... ouch! I'd never thought about it that way before. And it then occurred to me that Paul's analogy to the body of Christ is similar - a Hand cannot expect to survive alone... it can't even survive if it's near a body, or occasionally interacts with an Eye and a Toe... but rather it must be attached to an entire body to even be alive, much less thrive and be active. The hand can be cut off to preserve the body, but the body cannot be cut off to preserve the hand.
So I don't know if i will officially be a member of Restoration or not - I'm still praying about that one. But I am more convinced than ever that the church, although flawed, is essential. Body, here I come!
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