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!"
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Shaming my Savior, one sign at a time
Check out this article on MSNBC about a church from Kansas who is going around the nation protesting at the funerals of fallen homosexual soldiers.
When I first heard of this, and listened to some clips of the things these people were saying, I thought it had to be a horrible joke. However, after reading a few more pieces on the movement, I've found that it's true. Excuse me while I throw up. Perhaps I shouldn't give these fools the satisfaction of calling their ill-advised, ignorant acts a movement, but more like toxic stupidity unleashed. That anyone, much less a church group would go around harassing grieving families AT THE FUNERAL OF THEIR LOVED ONE is disgusting, disrespectful and despicable.
While I believe what Scripture says about homosexuality, I do not condone the deplorable conduct these hatemongers are participating in the name of religion. How ironic that their very right to freedom of speech and assembly was fought for by those they despise. To forever tarnish the last memories of a deceased loved one in such a way should warrant nothing less than a flogging. How cowardly does one have to be to confront a grieving mother at the graveside of her son who happens to be homosexual? What Bible are these people reading? What God are they serving? Certainly not my God. How on earth do they think screaming "God hates you" will save souls from Sheol? For those that have already passed away, it is too late; for those that are left to mourn the terrible loss of a loved one, any affection they may have had for God would understandably be called into question.
The things we do in the name of the Father ought to reflect His character, not our own. Hate comes natural to us, love does not. Let us choose to love the sinner, not their sin. To be so unloving, so malicious is borderline sadistic. Death and sin entered the world with one bite of fruit, not with the first homosexual encounter. Stepping in with such a hateful message during such a vulnerable time is a play straight from Satan's playbook.
A solider is a soldier and we should all be grateful for the sacrifices of others, be they homo or hetero sexual. This entire church is missing the point of the Gospel. They are neglecting to see the wonderful opportunity they have to minister to those who are hurting with a message of hope. Join with me in praying for this extremely misguided flock. It looks as if they need saving just as much as those that they are protesting. The gay and lesbian soldiers who give their lives in service to this country have more courage in their little toe, than these incendiaries have in their entire congregation. Again, while I believe homosexuality is a sin as is lying, cheating, and murder; I do not believe a message of hate, especially at a FUNERAL is appropriate, acceptable or advantageous. These people must be stopped.
Here's one of my favorite quotes, "Your rights end where my nose begins." I believe this is from Abraham Lincoln.
When I first heard of this, and listened to some clips of the things these people were saying, I thought it had to be a horrible joke. However, after reading a few more pieces on the movement, I've found that it's true. Excuse me while I throw up. Perhaps I shouldn't give these fools the satisfaction of calling their ill-advised, ignorant acts a movement, but more like toxic stupidity unleashed. That anyone, much less a church group would go around harassing grieving families AT THE FUNERAL OF THEIR LOVED ONE is disgusting, disrespectful and despicable.
While I believe what Scripture says about homosexuality, I do not condone the deplorable conduct these hatemongers are participating in the name of religion. How ironic that their very right to freedom of speech and assembly was fought for by those they despise. To forever tarnish the last memories of a deceased loved one in such a way should warrant nothing less than a flogging. How cowardly does one have to be to confront a grieving mother at the graveside of her son who happens to be homosexual? What Bible are these people reading? What God are they serving? Certainly not my God. How on earth do they think screaming "God hates you" will save souls from Sheol? For those that have already passed away, it is too late; for those that are left to mourn the terrible loss of a loved one, any affection they may have had for God would understandably be called into question.
The things we do in the name of the Father ought to reflect His character, not our own. Hate comes natural to us, love does not. Let us choose to love the sinner, not their sin. To be so unloving, so malicious is borderline sadistic. Death and sin entered the world with one bite of fruit, not with the first homosexual encounter. Stepping in with such a hateful message during such a vulnerable time is a play straight from Satan's playbook.
A solider is a soldier and we should all be grateful for the sacrifices of others, be they homo or hetero sexual. This entire church is missing the point of the Gospel. They are neglecting to see the wonderful opportunity they have to minister to those who are hurting with a message of hope. Join with me in praying for this extremely misguided flock. It looks as if they need saving just as much as those that they are protesting. The gay and lesbian soldiers who give their lives in service to this country have more courage in their little toe, than these incendiaries have in their entire congregation. Again, while I believe homosexuality is a sin as is lying, cheating, and murder; I do not believe a message of hate, especially at a FUNERAL is appropriate, acceptable or advantageous. These people must be stopped.
Here's one of my favorite quotes, "Your rights end where my nose begins." I believe this is from Abraham Lincoln.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Family matters
My family is an interesting mix of people. There are the "big city slickers", the "country folk", and people living in the area in between. There are those who are uber educated, and there are those who have never even seen a college campus. Families teach us what is normal, they set the stage for all of our future interactions, relationships, and initial world view. The things taught to us by our family stick with us. God makes us who we are, our identity is found in Him once we are adopted by Him, but He uses family to give us glimpses of human depravity, love, compassion, mercy, grace, and millions of other aspects of Himself.
There is something so special about being related to someone...to know that some of who you are is because of who they are. Genetics comes alive when you realize the reason you are so much like another person is because of a microscopic tidbit of DNA. Whether it's having the same laugh, nose, quick temper, distractability or sassiness, knowing someone else out there shares that with you is an incredible feeling. Even if you aren't close to your family, it only takes one shared look, one glance at a crooked nose, one distinct giggle to make you feel known...deeply, truly known. Isn't that what we all long for? To be known? To invite someone inside? Scary as it may be, we want it. We crave it. This desire occasionally manifests itself in unhealthy ways, but it can also be such a freeing experience. To let go of your hang-ups, inhabitions, fears and doubts...to put out the "WELCOME" sign over your heart, and hold the door open wide. I am frequently surprised by my family. Over the years I've under estimated them, not understanding their immeasurable value. To think of all the love I've missed out on, the hugs that could have been; to think that I've been galavanting all over the place begging for scaps from others, when I've had a feast so close by, is a tad troublesome.
The time for change has arrived, dear friends. Let's see where God takes this.
There is something so special about being related to someone...to know that some of who you are is because of who they are. Genetics comes alive when you realize the reason you are so much like another person is because of a microscopic tidbit of DNA. Whether it's having the same laugh, nose, quick temper, distractability or sassiness, knowing someone else out there shares that with you is an incredible feeling. Even if you aren't close to your family, it only takes one shared look, one glance at a crooked nose, one distinct giggle to make you feel known...deeply, truly known. Isn't that what we all long for? To be known? To invite someone inside? Scary as it may be, we want it. We crave it. This desire occasionally manifests itself in unhealthy ways, but it can also be such a freeing experience. To let go of your hang-ups, inhabitions, fears and doubts...to put out the "WELCOME" sign over your heart, and hold the door open wide. I am frequently surprised by my family. Over the years I've under estimated them, not understanding their immeasurable value. To think of all the love I've missed out on, the hugs that could have been; to think that I've been galavanting all over the place begging for scaps from others, when I've had a feast so close by, is a tad troublesome.
The time for change has arrived, dear friends. Let's see where God takes this.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Home is where...
Earlier tonight, a fierce storm was brewing over my humble little town. Lightening was illuminating the sky, making it almost as bright as day. The cloudy sky was filled with shadowy silhouettes, and it looked like lights were being turned on in distant rooms. As I was driving with my head out of the window, I was struck with the sudden overwhelming desire to be Home. Not in my cozy apartment or my parents familiar abode, but HOME...really HOME. I longed to take up residence in those distant rooms hinted at by the lightening bolts. I wanted to sit at my Father's feet and be endlessly content in His presence and perfect peace.
O Lord, you are my Dwelling Place, my Treasure, my True Home. You are Magnificent and Beautiful. I cannot keep Your praises from bubbling up from my innermost being. You alone are so infinitely worthy! Come quickly, my Rock, lest my heart become faint from longing. Thank you for wanting me, pursuing me, and loving me. Amen.
O Lord, you are my Dwelling Place, my Treasure, my True Home. You are Magnificent and Beautiful. I cannot keep Your praises from bubbling up from my innermost being. You alone are so infinitely worthy! Come quickly, my Rock, lest my heart become faint from longing. Thank you for wanting me, pursuing me, and loving me. Amen.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Broken and blessed
When you work with people, you are working with depraved sinners in need of grace...in need of a Savior just like you. Sometimes in our loftier moments, we like to think of ourselves as being somehow removed...somehow better. In especially difficult occupations/roles, our pride makes us strive towards unbreakability. While as believers, we should be unshakable, sin must not come as a surprise, unbreakability is not a trait God wants to instill in us. In fact, He wants quite the opposite.
"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise" -Psalm 51:17
When we accept, proclaim, and own Christ as our Savior we are reborn with a new, clean heart...made of flesh. This delicate, exposed heart could also be likened to porcelain. Fragile and easily broken. A broken heart is painful, but so beautiful in the eyes of the Lord. It's not a weakness...something to be ashamed of, NO, it is something to fall on your face before your Creator and praise Him for giving you the ability to feel. In this broken, vulnerable state, you can truly love, and love like Him.
God does not break us for His own sadistic pleasure. He breaks us to let us know He is alive, we are alive, and to rebuild us. The very moment we cease to feel, to experience heartache is the moment we cease to live. Compassion is often rooted, not in warm-fuzzies, but rather a broken heart...our fleshly heart cannot sit idly by while another suffers. Instead, it is moved to action.
Lord, may I never outlive my love for You or Your people. If ever I believe I am unbreakable, show me I am not. Thank You, Father, for every tear, heartbreak, every second of brokenness. Thank You for rebuilding, restoring and reviving me. Your mercy is undeserved, Your grace is endless, and Your love is incomprehensible. Amen.
The following song is one of my favorites. It is performed by Barlow Girls.
Broken heart
One more time
Pick yourself up
Why even cry
Broken pieces in your hands
Wonder how you'll make it whole
CHORUS:
You know You pray
This can't be the way
You cry You say
Some thing's gotta change
And mend this porcelain heart of mine
Of mine....
Someone said "A broken heart
Would sting at first then make you stronger"
You wonder why this pain remains
Were hearts made whole just to break
CHORUS:
Creator only you take brokenness
And create it into beauty once again
Chorus:
You know You pray
This can't be the way
You cry You say
Some thing's gotta change
You know You pray
This can't be the way
You cry You say
Some thing's gotta change
And mend this porcelain heart
Please mend this porcelain heart
Of mine of mine Creator mend this heart
"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise" -Psalm 51:17
When we accept, proclaim, and own Christ as our Savior we are reborn with a new, clean heart...made of flesh. This delicate, exposed heart could also be likened to porcelain. Fragile and easily broken. A broken heart is painful, but so beautiful in the eyes of the Lord. It's not a weakness...something to be ashamed of, NO, it is something to fall on your face before your Creator and praise Him for giving you the ability to feel. In this broken, vulnerable state, you can truly love, and love like Him.
God does not break us for His own sadistic pleasure. He breaks us to let us know He is alive, we are alive, and to rebuild us. The very moment we cease to feel, to experience heartache is the moment we cease to live. Compassion is often rooted, not in warm-fuzzies, but rather a broken heart...our fleshly heart cannot sit idly by while another suffers. Instead, it is moved to action.
Lord, may I never outlive my love for You or Your people. If ever I believe I am unbreakable, show me I am not. Thank You, Father, for every tear, heartbreak, every second of brokenness. Thank You for rebuilding, restoring and reviving me. Your mercy is undeserved, Your grace is endless, and Your love is incomprehensible. Amen.
The following song is one of my favorites. It is performed by Barlow Girls.
Broken heart
One more time
Pick yourself up
Why even cry
Broken pieces in your hands
Wonder how you'll make it whole
CHORUS:
You know You pray
This can't be the way
You cry You say
Some thing's gotta change
And mend this porcelain heart of mine
Of mine....
Someone said "A broken heart
Would sting at first then make you stronger"
You wonder why this pain remains
Were hearts made whole just to break
CHORUS:
Creator only you take brokenness
And create it into beauty once again
Chorus:
You know You pray
This can't be the way
You cry You say
Some thing's gotta change
You know You pray
This can't be the way
You cry You say
Some thing's gotta change
And mend this porcelain heart
Please mend this porcelain heart
Of mine of mine Creator mend this heart
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