Please don't stop the music!

I was driving back to my parents house after a long day at work and some significant time killing, when I started thinking about heaven. At work, while I was baking my frillionth cookie and rethinking some of my life choices, I tuned into what the chef was saying to one of the sous chefs. I'm not sure what lead to the conversation, but I heard the chef suddenly say, "So what are you going to do when you die?". My ears perked up, and the sous chef said, "Nothing happens when you die. You're just dead and in the ground." For the next 7 minutes or so, the chef talked to this woman about Hell, The Bible, God and salvation. I just sat, mesmerized by how he did it so lovingly, firmly and all while chopping veggies (she chopped chicken). He didn't making it a "thing" he just told her Hell is real, so is God and you need Jesus. Apparently, he'd given her a Bible before and she didn't really do anything with it. This time was different I guess, because she asked questions. He gave her suggestions as to what to read first in the Bible, and explained how the copy he'd given her was different from her mother's Catholic Bible. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it! Sure, I've had several conversations about faith while at work and have had the chance to even pray with a few people, but usually it's with believers who are struggling with their faith or occasionally commenting on something someone says. The man saw an opportunity and jumped in without hesitation! That's how it's supposed to be! After the conversation came to a natural end, they went about their business, no awkwardness, no anger, just more chopping, stirring and serving up tasty food. Since it blessed me, I thought I'd bless you with that little tidbit.

Something else that rustled up the heavenly thoughts was listening to the radio. Given that I spend roughly 1.5 hours in the car a day (on a good day), I have ample opportunity to listen to the radio and my CDs. I love worship music that doesn't point you towards itself, but towards God. There are some groups and some songs that make so much ruckus and are so distracting that God completely gets washed out, and you're just left depleted after the emotional adrenaline rush.

Anywho, I was listening to one of my favorite groups when it hit me. Imagine the most intense worship experience you've ever had. I'm talking the point where you thought you just couldn't take anymore. Where God felt so near, you seriously feared you'd be crushed from the weight of Him, blinded by His beauty and struck dumb by His glory. Times all of that by a ka-jillion. That's heaven (to me, at least). Think about it...you may have felt Him all those other times, but in heaven, He'll actually physically BE THERE. Thank goodness we'll have new bodies, because I know my current shell would not be able to withstand heaven unleashed.

How exciting is that? Spending all eternity worshipping the infinitely beautiful, King of kings and Lord of Lords? I'm just gonna say it now, pretty sure the DCB will be reunited and playing continuously. Hallelujah!

I have nobody...to call my own...

Community is a beautiful thing. To be with others who love you, care about you and want nothing but good things for you is so comforting. No matter where you are in life, whether you're single, married with 20 babies or retired, community is important. God did not create us to live in solitude. For some, community happens more easily...young married couples with little ones are everywhere, they don't really have to look hard to find a group. College students typically don't have to look far to find their own kind or those that are willing to adopt them. It's the singles out there who seem to have a bit of a challenge. My heart really goes out to single men because it seems no one really knows what to do with them. Everyone loves women, so single women typically flock together, get grafted into families or adopted by older couples. Single men are just odd...they are like pinkie toes. They are necessary, but you aren't sure what to do with them. Anyway, I've veered from my point, let me return.

When I arrived in Waco in 2004, I was immediately thrust into various communities. There was the community I found in the dorms, the body of believers, and the circles of good friends from school. Community came to me, and it was good. After graduating, things got a little harder. No longer did I have the automatic community of college ministry folks, classmates, or roommates. I didn't feel connected to the college students at church because we were in very different places in our lives at that time. I was even viewed differently at church because people know how to handle me as a college student, but now I was just a random single woman. For once, I had to make community happen. I had to build relationships in a different way, allow a few to mature, and let others go by the wayside. Gatherings and hang outs had to be planned, they no longer happened organically. I became an event planner almost overnight. Dinner parties, game nights, movie nights, women and wine nights became my life. After a few years of hard work, I once again felt I was living in community again. My love for my church and those around me matured. I matured and life was good.

Now that I've moved back to Tyler I find myself back where I was after I graduated from Baylor. Communitiless (is that a word? It should be). I've found a good church, it's just a matter of making life together happen. I never realized how much community meant to me until now. I'm drowning in loneliness. My planner is collecting dust, I spent 10 hours on the phone this past week talking to the community I left. For years, I barely used my minutes, and now I'm burning through them like they're going out of style. I miss having dinner parties, having friends within walking distance, laughing until I cry my contacts out and my face cramps. I miss women and wine nights! Friday nights used to be filled with dancing, laughter and late night trips to IHOP. This last Friday I spent the evening at home watching Ghost Adventures and drinking milk. Sigh.

What do you really really want?

One of my guilty pleasures is Sex and the City. Even though the show has been off the air for a while now, I still love watching the reruns. It's a morally bankrupt show, I know, and it's not something I should be filling my mind with, I understand all of these things. This is why I said it was a guilty pleasure. Last night, during one of my all time favorite scenes from the show, I had an epiphany of sorts.

The character Charlotte (who I feel most closely relates to me in both style and personality), broke up with the love of her life, Harry, a short, bald attorney who is Jewish. She converted to Judaism (she was formally Episcopalian) so that he could marry her. They were serious, but he hadn't proposed, and she assumed that once she converted a proposal would be immediate. They got into an argument when she demanded that he "set the date!". He left, and she was heartbroken. Fast forward two weeks, her friends are trying to set up her with people and suggesting she get back out there. She goes to a Jewish singles mixer, and after talking to a really nice guy, realizes she's not ready to date because she's still madly in love with Harry. She turns to scan the room, hoping that by some random chance Harry is there. Of course, he's there, and their eyes meet. She walks over, and begins a heartfelt confession of her "foolishness" and says, "I don't care if we ever get married. Harry, I just want to be with you. If you could just call me or maybe even ask me out again, I would really appreciate it." **Spoiler alert** He then drops on one knee and proposes. Happy ending? We'll see.

Exhibit B is in one of my favorite movies, "He's Just Not That Into You". Jennifer Aniston's character finally comes to a point where she draws a line in the sand and says to her boyfriend (Ben Affleck) of 7 years, "Will you ever marry me?" When he doesn't say anything, she breaks up with him. Over the coming weeks, she goes through being part of her younger sister's wedding and her father having a heart attack. She becomes increasingly upset and lonely. Ben Affleck's character then waltz's in like a knight in tarnished armor and this once wonderfully courageous woman breaks down and says, "I don't care if we ever get married, I just want you for the rest of my life. I am willing to take marriage completely off the table." **Spoiler alter** He then proposes.

What is the moral of these stories? What message does this send? Women: toss your standards, hopes and dreams aside. Do whatever it takes to get a man. Men: wait a woman out. You don't have to rise to clear the bar, just wait until you can slither under it. Don't worry about being a man of character and integrity, one who honors and respects women and provides for his mate. If you wait her out, she'll get so desperate, she'll come crawling to you on your terms. No need to take initiative, she'll eventually do it.I think what's most depressing for me is that I was sucked in by all of this. I was so caught up in the rush that these women got their man in the end, that I didn't think about how they got there. I was kind of proud of both of them for saying "I want to get married", and I overlooked their weakness in the end.

I know, as a general rule, we shouldn't look to media for guidance and life advice, but this is one instance where I see art imitating life. All across the country, and likely the world, scenarios like these are plaid out daily. Women try to be true to themselves, try to hold a certain standard, but in the end the pressure to get a man is too great, and they cave. Women are afraid to expect more. At some point, we started to believe that expecting men to be men would make us seem needy and demanding. Somewhere along the way, having standards guaranteed singleness. We're so afraid of seeming weak, needy, snobby, or unappealing that we can't even let a man open a door for us without a fight. A life of singleness seems far worse a fate than being stuck in a mixed up relationship in which we call all the shots, and our significant other is some sniveling, weak excuse for a man. So many women complain that there are no real men left in society. Of course there aren't, the feminists have locked them all in a basement, labeling them Neanderthals and chauvinistic pigs. Rather than give their guys opportunities to step up and be the kind of man they should be, Charlotte and Aniston's characters crumble. Women today are afraid to wait for what God has for us and just like in musical chairs, we scramble for whatever is left. We leap desperately for what we feel is our last shot.

Psalm 27 verse 14 says it well, "Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!"

Down to the country to ...?

I know I'm one of the world's worst bloggers, but rather than apologize for not posting daily, I'll just say this...I gots stuff to do.

Living with my parents is pretty much what I expected, but what I didn't count on is my body's physical reaction to being back. I'm not sure if it's stress or what, but my body doesn't like being back here. From migraines to hives, it's been tough being here. Emotionally, I know I'm being assaulted left and right by evil. Terrible thoughts plague me, making me want to be harbor anger, resentment and give in to despair. You know what, though? I refuse! Occasionally I find myself dwelling on past hurts and bad memories, and I replay ever horrid bit over and over again until the wound feels fresh. Perhaps part of the reason I'm here is because God wants me to experience real healing. Things that I thought weren't an issue seem larger than Him.

One really awesome thing I've experienced here is His relentless pursuit of me. He will not leave me alone, for which I'm incredibly grateful. I've had so much time to look back on where I started and where He's brought me. Through all the ups, downs and plateaus His faithfulness has been a constant.

bound with strips of duct tape

I've been thinking about church a lot lately. Studying the anatomy of The Body. Human beings do so many things that tend to make no sense at all, yet not only are many of these things not frowned up on, but some are actually encouraged. Take, for example, having children. For a woman, you endure 9 months of having another human being being smooshed inside your body (which up until now, only barely had enough room for you), then after the smooshing comes the gushing and bringing forth of life. Hours and hours of screaming, pushing and all kinds of body fluids flowing out of you. For what end? To have screaming, pooping, needy little person to burst forth and demand constant attention for the next 13 years or so. After that point, you're left to deal with some incredibly awkward stranger living in your home, eating your food and spending your money, all while managing to ignore your existence. This person will see any sign of life on your part as an extreme violation of their existence...a direct assault on their popularity, the likes of which will undoubtedly end their so-called life. You finally begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel when this person (heaven forbid you have more than one of them), who you squeezed out in a fashion akin to something out of a horror movie, turns 18 and ventures out into the real world. After dropping yet another small fortune on this bigger version of the screaming, pooping, mess, you begin to enjoy the freedom of post-person life. Hopefully the other person who helped you create the third person is still at your side. Somehow this screaming, pooping mess will likely end back up in your house, only older and more dangerous (I say dangerous because they are now legally old enough to do more stuff). Eventually, with any luck, this person will leave your home, perhaps because they found another person or because they just couldn't take it anymore. Yet we persist in the bearing and raising of children.

Church is an interesting phenomenon. It's not a legal requirement. The government can't make you go, and after a while, neither can your mother. People willingly come together to admit there is nothing good in them, and they require more help than any other feeble, troubled, messed-up human being could provide. When you walk into a church, if you've got a proper understanding of things, you know you're coming to the place where all the sinners gather. If you look to your right and to your left, you are looking at people who will at some point sin against you. Church people can hurt you in very unique and unexpected ways. Walking through those doors can be like walking into a mine field. No matter how lightly you tread, you're still running the risk of being blown to Smithereens, not to mention the potential collateral damage. In spite of all of this, we still choose to gather together in vulnerability to worship the One who made us all. We argue, bicker, and wound each other time and time again with the expectation that grace will be extended, peace restored and fried chicken will be brought to the next pot luck. What on earth compels us to do this? In any other situation, these actions would be seen as incredibly foolish, and in some cases an intervention would be conducted. That we subject ourselves to life together with no legally obligatory reason for doing so, is borderline insanity. Yet we persist.

Let's explore the One who thought up all of this ridiculousness. This One, created us...He knows how vile, unforgiving and unloving we tend to be. He knows we will argue, bicker and wound one another about a frillion times. It is not out of ignorance that we are called to life together. This is on purpose. It sounds like something out of the twisted, sadistic mind of a madman. That we worship Him, is astounding. This holy, loving, unbelievably generous One calls us to life together as a Church, binding us together with His love. Now I understand there are huge theological yada-yadas behind all of this. Trust me, I know. It's just that I've been thinking about the things I devote my time and energy to, and it sort of messed with my head a bit that church and church activities are voluntary. If one were to decide they'd had enough of playing Russian roulette in a mine field (aka going to church), they could simply stop. There's little the church could legally do to make them continue (all sense of moral/theological reasons aside). Yet we continue to gather together. As wounds are inflicted, we treat them and continue our Sunday stroll about the mind field...together.

***please note*** I say all this, not as a knock against church, God, or parenting but with a more awestruck attitude that God orchestrates all this...that God helps us get over ourselves. I just didn't feel like getting bogged down with a deeper explanation of everything.