Prologue: The Expanse

Whole

“Some wandered in desert wastelands, finding no way to a city where they could settle. They were hungry and thirsty, and their lives ebbed away.” -Psalm 107:4-5

…

The Expanse

The Expanse was vast.

Desert sand rippled as far as the eye could gaze.

Dust filled the mouth, nostrils, skin.

Alone, longing for the tree’s shade.

Desperate for water.

In the bitter cold of the night, I close my eyes.

Sand brushes across my fingers.

I remember the cities.

I remember the food shared among friends.

The gatherings and parties.

The bitter sweetness of wine on my tongue.

The laughter ensuing from a memory.

The songs sung in our togetherness.

I realize my thanklessness.

To cherish a moment only seems to come in the future suffering.

I didn’t foresee these cold desert nights or the blistering, lonely days.

I didn’t divine the coming isolation.

I never envisioned being swallowed up by The Expanse.

Fear in a desert comes from the overwhelming solitary confinement-hopelessness. 

In the cities, when we gathered, the serving nature of community brought life. It brought bread and water and dancing. It brought hope. It brought purpose. 

Purpose in the desert is to come through to the land of milk and honey. Purpose in the desert is survival, refinement, a heart starving with only gratitude to feed it, a body thirsty with only small droplets of faith as drink. 

When the beasts of the night creep onto the dunes, when viscous storms arise and threaten to bury all in their path, when all control is gone, I fall to my knees. I cry out to the starry hosts, to the Great Artist and beg for rescue. 

In a cloud, in a storm, in great waters rising from nowhere, on the back of the Leviathan or in the chaos of the Behemoth, in the thunder and lightening, in creation, He appears. 

His hands come foreword and lift me up. My head is bowed low, I dare not look at his face. All is chaos, and then, he breathes. 

As though swallowed in a vacuum, all is still. Not a grain of sand moves. Terrifying quietness. It stretches the length of time. 

And then, He speaks, only two words. 

“Stand up”

His right hand touches my eyes. 

Suddenly, my knees feel the roughness of innumerable particles of sand. It scrubs against my fingertips, roots itself into my nails. 

And slowly, I rise. But when I look around, it is not only dunes and sand and air. It is not the storm or stillness. 

I look around to see people. Human kind fill the desert as lost and alone as me. They wander blindly, trudging as though no one is around to see their pain. 

And though no voice reverberates through the wilderness, I hear his magic in my soul.  

“You’re not alone.”

Here in this place, I longed for saving. But maybe I’m not the only one who needs rescue. Maybe this isn’t my story. 

I see the wandering bodies, the vessels of His same magic and I know we were meant for one another. I see us now, like broken pottery needing to be pieced back together by the Artist. It’s not about the broken, but becoming Whole. 

I Bought a Laminator

11 more days. 

This is what I keep telling myself. I am coming to the end of my third year of teaching. Naturally, I am reflecting on my teaching journey so far. I’m about to get real, so park any judgments or criticism at the door, please. 

This journey has been hard. It has been good. It has been emotional. At times, it has completely broken me. Teaching is the most insane and wonderful decision I have ever made. But friends, I am tired. Half the time I feel as though I am failing. My to-do list grows and grows no matter how many hours I work after school and on weekends. I see all the things I have done wrong. I spend hours on a lesson only to realize I didn’t differentiate enough. I talk to countless other professionals about a challenging behavior with a student and together we come up with a plan only to have it completely backfire. I think the worst thing is knowing that so many people are watching everything I do as a new and “inexperienced” teacher and they have an opinion for EVERYTHING. And whether they realize it or not, I hear it all. I see their stares, feel their criticism rolling off their skin. Halfway through this school year, I actually thought I may leave this profession for a while. I was crying too often, stress completely ruled my life, I was on a diet that completely murdered me, I was underweight and weak, and I felt like a failure. I still remember when I went for a check up at the doctors office and she asked me how I was doing. I broke down, crying uncontrollably because it was the first time someone had asked me about me in months. Soon after that, I had 4 major behavioral and unsavory issues with students and their families all at the same time, which I was dealing with on top of the normal everyday “minutia”. 

I took everything anyone said and laid it on me like a blanket. My identity had completely become about being an amazing teacher. My administrators liked me, I had said yes to too many obligations in an attempt to uphold an identity I felt (and often feel) I am unqualified for and for which I constantly feel I am missing the mark. 

I love my students. I love that I get the privilege to work with such incredible humans. I adore the community my coworkers and I and our students have created. And you would be hard pressed to find another teacher more proud of how far her students have come over the course of this year than me. 

But man, this year beat me up. We never got our all-star data system up and running. I still havent found a behavior system that fully works for one of my most challenging students. I haven’t figured out the magic formula for my high needs language arts class. And this is just grazing the surface. 

Around January/February, I was starting to feel a little better. I was taking care of myself more. I was eating bread again and having weekends where I didn’t touch a lesson plan. I got a teacher candidate from OU. My husband and I started house hunting. I bought a laminator. Life was seeming a little better. 

However, my classroom started to look like a natural disaster more and more frequently. My lessons were not their usual every-layer-of-adapted. My data collection never did improve. 

Guess what? Everyone is still standing. I have seen immeasurable growth in some of my students despite my failures. I have become so close with the other MD teachers in our units. I have friends and a place in a building where at first I wondered if I was a nomad. 

What has gotten me through this year is the support of the other teachers in our MD “department”. They have encouraged me, made me laugh when I wanted to cry, shared with me, listened to me share, and made me KNOW I was not alone. They also have helped me to remember that being “Mrs. Smith” is not all of me. I am a person in need of the same things my students need. I need friendship and rest and to know I have value. 

Friends, this weekend I had all these grande plans. I was going to work on a new lesson involving a lot of colored printing and lamination. I was going to work on the 3 IEPs I have due next week. I was going to actually update my lesson plan website in the first time in over a month. Instead, I made a home cooked meal for the first time in weeks, cleaned the bathrooms in our apartment, went to church with my husband, and spent time with my in-laws and my cute niece and nephew. 

As I look forward into this coming week, I can already foresee the imperfections. It is very likely I will take my students outside because they are so done with hearing me teach on plate tectonics, and every hands-on lesson leaves a tornado war-path I then have to spend 42 minutes cleaning up. I will most likely slam my desk drawer in frustration because someone has made me pissed as hell. However, these imperfections do not end with a crappy lesson or not maintaining my façade of "sunshine and rainbows". Much of brokenness is hidden. It lurks behind the fear of what people think, creeps behind the Doubt that makes my choices.

If you know a teacher (which I suspect you do), recognize their humanity. Recognize their need for rest. Recognize that they may just realize all the things you feel the need to complain about. Teachers carry a heavy weight. They carry the expectation to solve generational poverty and how it relates to families and education. They carry the pressure of their district, administration, parents and government to raise a new generation of young humans. They have IEPs to write, progress reports to get done, parents to call about end of the year banquets and field trips because no one sends back permission slips. They have meetings and professional development to attend and they do all these things on top of teaching our children and dealing with a classroom full of personalities and behaviors they are expected to reign in and solve. 

For many of us, teaching is in our blood and we are good at it. But the same many of us will still leave this profession because it has become unsustainable. I do not want to be one of the many who are diagnosed with major depressive disorder or severe anxiety disorder because of this job. 

For all you teachers out there, for all you who work in education, take some time for yourself. Spend time with your families, with your therapy cat or dog, with a good book and a glass of wine. I want you to know that I see you, I hear you, I walk with you in this teaching journey. Know that your identity does not reside in your job. Teaching is what you have chosen to do to contribute to the world, it does not define you. I have felt the dark cloud of teacher burnout. Know that you are loved. Inspite of your crappy lesson, inspite of the criticism of others, inspite of your own feelings, You. Are. Loved. That is your identity. I have spent too long listening to the wrong voices- there are some you just need to tune out. You are more than just a cog in the bureaucracy. You are worth it. You are weird. You are just as wonderful as the kids you teach. You are much more than you often think. 

#teacherappreciation    

My Feminist Rant on the Whole30

Forewarning: This is my opinion! No shame if yours differs or if you think I'm crazy. It is purely based on my personal experience.

Many of my friends and family have been asking me to describe my experience and opinion regarding the Whole30 especially in regards to asking if I would recommend trying this diet and I have been fairly closed off on the subject from the distance. I think I am finally in a place where I am ready to share my opinion that I have been forming over 36 days. So buckle up:

This may seem trivial or like something that should have a simple "I liked it." Or "I hated it." But, unfortunately I have severely complicated this trendy fad diet. As many know, I have struggled with severe migraines for about 20 months. I have tried just about everything under the sun and this diet was one more thing to add to list. What many people do not know about me is that I struggled with disordered eating for the better part of my college career. Therefore, going on a "diet" to help restore and heal my body was a scary thing to enter into. It was very important to me that I was in a good place emotionally to start this diet. So, I made a rule that I would not weigh myself for the entirety of the diet as weight loss was not the goal of this experiment. In fact, I have probably been a healthier weight over the past year than I have been in years. Do you know what the number one comment I received after about 2 and half weeks of doing this diet was? "Have you lost weight? Keep it up! You look great!"  Nobody was trying to be mean. No one was trying to be insensitive. But man, our culture is obsessed with female weight and it was so apparent during this past month. Guess what friends, my blood pressure is normal, pulse is typically good, I have no signs of heart disease or anything physically wrong with me. That was true before this diet and after. I am positive I have lost weight. So what. I'll probably gain it back at some point. One day, maybe I'll have a kid, or maybe my metabolism will just slow down and I'll put on some weight. My body is a miracle. It can break down food and is capable of bringing life into the world and houses a brain that is pretty incredible if I do say so myself. Every connotation involving "You've lost weight" pretty much indicates that you are playing into the beauty standard. Nobody asked me, "so how's your blood pressure?" Maybe because that sounds personal? Well so is commenting on weight! It is amazing how deeply ingrained thinness equating to beauty is in our culture. We even equate thinness to health which is also inaccurate. 

My Whole30 experience made me look at every nutrition label, prevented me from eating corn and legumes which I thought was absolutely idiotic, and the people in the Whole30 forums were straight up hangry bitches. It also helped me to find meals that were not processed, to focus on eating fruits and vegetables and minimally processed meats and to be disciplined in something for 30 days. I discovered that I am completely intolerant to egg whites, reaffirmed that I am sensitive to dairy and I learned how to marinade a steak #adulting.

There were moments when I fell into not wanting to eat (old habits die hard). I became too obsessed with food and my body image even though I still haven't weighed myself to this day. I am unclear as to whether or not it contributed to helping my migraines. I did have less migraines the last two weeks. For 21 days I craved Oreo cookies which sucked. It took a lot of the enjoyment out of eating for me.  However, it did get me to think about how most of America eats for enjoyment and experience but how in most of the rest of the world, people eat to survive. That was a sobering thought.  I struggled to feel full even when I ate full meals which I think may have been because my body was missing sugar. That got a little better the last week. 

I think it is important to realize that we over consume processed goods and it is a major contributor to a variety of health ailments. I also think that when we focus too much on anything in this world, we can make an idol out of it and create a space where we search for value and self worth. 

In this time where we are seeing more and more areas of our world where women lack power and respect, a word of caution: Beauty is not found in the weight that you lose. Beauty is not found in the gaze of a man. Beauty is not found in the comments of your coworkers or the culture we wake up into ever day. That beauty is a fleeting construct as worthless as the feelings it stirs in billions of women every day. Beauty is the quiet, confident strength and dignity within you- "you were made for more than a culture, more than a man or person, more than a fleeting idea". 

Do I recommend the Whole30? Well, I learned a lot. But I feel like that is a silly question. Do you need the Whole30? Because unless you have an unsolveable health problem, no I absolutely don't recommend it. Dieting is something that should always be well thought out and something you need to be emotionally prepared for. Because people are going to make comments to you off hand that may seem like nothing but you will probably feel them. And you need to know that. You need to know your worth. And you need to know your body is a temple that one day will pass away. Outward beauty is fleeting and people spend big bucks trying to hold onto it.

It is important to be conscientious of what you are putting into your body. I just cannot in good conscience recommend this diet to someone who doesn't show signs of needing it knowing that 20 million America women will have an eating disorder at some point in their life. This diet is not supposed to be about that, but I'm telling you from personal experience and from being a member of this society for 25+ years, it can snowball fast. If you are sick and have an illness that is not getting better, this may be something worth trying. But have people around to hold you accountable and to encourage you. I am continuing to eat minimally processed foods and essentially am continuing Whole30 for awhile to see if it helps my migraines- but again, I do this because I want to get better it is not meant to be a full on life style switch. It is a 30 day diet plus the reintroduction phase and then it is over. If you want to do the Whole30 because you want that to be your life style or you just want to try it, that is completely your choice and something you absolutely can do. Just know that the Whole30 is not the only healthy lifestyle or even the only elimination diet out there though it is one
of the most recommended to start out with.  And if it taxes you emotionally, it may very well not be all that healthy for you. 

But honestly, I just want to love Jesus and love my husband and love my students and eat Oreos and be able to do that uninhibited by cursed migraines. Bring on the wrinkles if I can have my Oreos!  And that ends my feminist rant on the Whole30. 

Migraine: A Therapeutic Story of My Pain

Written in April 2016, finished April 30th, 2017.  Inspired to be published by a sermon given at Central United Methodist in a series called "Life is Hard". I don't talk in depth about this part of my life often. It is my least favorite part of my life and has also been a big part of my life for over a year now. Life certainly is hard...

"Make it stop", 

I pleaded to no one in particular. Maybe I was talking to God or maybe to my own body, but the agony continued to build in my skull as if the contents of my mind would explode from the ever-increasing pressure. This was day nine. Day nine of countless amounts of ibuprofen and sumatriptan and muscle relaxers. Day nine of feeling so miserable that I found myself seeping into the grasp of depression. Day nine of losing the battle to the bitch, Migraine. I walked to the bathroom to throw-up again. Honestly, my stomach didn't even hurt. The pain was just too much.

Once again, Nick returned from work to find me lying on my bed in the dark, face buried in my pillow. He was scared that night. It had gone on for so long. I had work the next day. I hadn't missed a day for this insipid migraine. "Syd, we should go to the hospital", he told me. I could hear the fear in his voice. But I knew that the hospital would do nothing but cost me money for a diagnosis of a bad headache and a prescription of extra strength Tylenol. At this point taking four ibuprofen was equivalent to taking nothing at all as I seemed to have developed an immunity. "Just hand me the muscle relaxers", I said. I took the round, white, saving grace and popped it in my mouth. It tasted bitter. I hated these prescribed pills. I hated the lack of control I had over my body in a mere 15 minutes. I hated the need to be forced into chemical-induced sleep. And yet, this was the only peace I seemed to experience in the eleven days of the worst migraine of my life. 

For the first time in nearly two years, I went to see Dr. Hussein, my neurologist all the way in Dublin, Ohio. This was the second time I had been to Columbus that week, once to see an urgent care doctor to get immatrix, and now to see what the brain doctor had to say. He prescribed more muscle relaxers, a knock-off of sumatriptan that was supposedly better, and an anti-depression medication known as Nortriptaline that apparently was proven to help prevent migraines. After about two weeks of taking the medication, I felt better. Great even. Not only was I not getting vomit-causing migraines, but my usual headaches were gone. 

Two months went by with relatively good health. I had tonsillitis for a few weeks, but my headaches remained at bay. I weaned myself off of the Nortripaline and was fine. Until two weeks ago. Once again, I found myself leaning over my toilet, my body attempting to rid itself of the pain the men with hammers inside my skull were causing. Once again, I would wake up from my drug-induced sleep to pain. A little over a week ago, I lost it. I woke up with a migraine at 7 a.m. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. The pain was too much. I refused to take a muscle relaxer because it was freaking 7 a.m.I had things to do, a life to live, a wedding to plan, a fiance who always seemed to work and then have to spend his free time taking care of me. I was determined to be functional.

But I couldn't. I couldn't function. I couldn't relax. I couldn't focus. I showered and let the heat from the water pound on my head and neck. I took ibuprofen, knowing that it was a lost cause but trying none-the-less just in case. I begged the air around me yet again, "make it stop". My phone vibrated to a text from Nick asking how I was doing. I replied, "my head hurts" Shocker.

By 3:30, as Nick made his daily trip from work to my apartment, he found my laying on my bed. He asked what he could do, and I'm pretty sure I rudely screamed "NOTHING". I was so frustrated, so angry. I walked to my bathroom cabinet to grab the damn white pills that seemed to be the only peace I experienced in these circumstances. I sat on my bed and looked at the bottle. I probably looked at the orange and white canister for a long minute before chucking it across my room in what I can only assume is the emotion, Anguish (anger and pain?). I don't know what all I screamed that afternoon, but many profanities were used. I think this was one of those rare moments in my life where I was straight up pissed at God. Everyday, I was incapacitated by Pain or Fear of Pain. I found myself laying in bed in the morning when I woke up, afraid to raise my head in case the migraine had returned. On the days when I could only feel the faint tug of a headache, I would stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning, afraid to sleep in fear that I would wake up only to be faced with another day of physical suffering. In fact, as I'm writing this in past tense, I'm realizing that this fear hasn't fully gone away, and this is why: I don't trust God.

As I yelled and cursed and sobbed and threw things in pain and frustration, my compassionate and kind now husband wrapped me up in his arms and held me. As I sobbed pathetically, he mourned with me. I felt so weak and so out of control and so helpless. As I began to calm down from my mental episode, he prayed. He prayed that God would take the pain away. He prayed that whether it was from a miracle or a doctor or a medicine, that I would experience Him and His love and healing restoration. When I have a full blown migraine, they never go away unless I sleep and even then it is a gamble. One hour after Nick prayed my headache was gone. And I found myself stunned. And I realized that was a huge problem.

Lately, I feel as though my body has betrayed me. I've always had weird non-life threatening anatomical issues. I have mild cerebral palsy which has caused half of my body to be significantly weaker than the other half, my muscles to tighten at random, and my hips to be misaligned and legs to be turned inward. I think I have come to a point in my life where I am just tired. I'm tired of my body not working and conforming to my will. I'm exhausted by the Fear that reigns dominant in my soul. I'm sick of feeling guilty for my anger and frustration and humiliation. I actually came to a point where I wondered if God was punishing me for un-confessed sin or just sin in general. In fact, I'm honestly not sure if I've stopped wondering that. I've come to a point where pity and self-absorption periodically take over my brain and the insipid cries of "why me" leave the confines of my mind and travel through my mouth out into the cruel world that seems to hate me. Ummmm, the delicious words of self addiction and pain. Music to the Prince of the World.
Confession: sometimes I loathe myself. I get up out of bed, making sure to be quiet so I don't wake up my now husband, and I creep down the stairs of our new townhouse into the living room. I grab my green and yellow notebook that I have labeled my anxiety book and I write whatever I feel capable of writing. At times, it is a monologue of all the convoluted thoughts swirling around inside my brain immortalized with the ink of my pen onto the paper. At other times, it is a list of all the things I hate about myself. And still, at other times it is just a word, a momentary feeling that I am able to identify. And after this...therapy?, I just cry. I talk to God and I cry. Sometimes, tears leak from my eyes because of the physical afflictions that affect the everyday activities of my life, Sometimes, they fall because of the shame following these afflictions. And sometimes, it is just the frustration of not being able to effectively communicate the feelings of my soul. This has been such a frustrating season.
I have been ungrateful. Because the truth is, my life is not a pile of rubble. I have a cat who is the best thing since indoor plumbing. I have a wonderful, loving, patient husband and the recent memories of a beautiful wedding surrounded by my favorite people. I have an air-conditioned new apartment and am starting an exciting new job with an exciting new salary. I also have a body that allows me to get up in the morning. I have a brain that allows me to experience the world around me filled with both joy and pain. I have deep friendships that neither distance or time can seem to ruin or make less meaningful. I have doctors that are trying to help me and friends who will listen to me.
All too often in my life, I bury my trials and have tried to compare them with that of others to invalidate them. Recently, I've found myself going in the polar opposite direction and making my problems the center of my universe. Neither extreme is healthy. I am going through real, painful physical trials that effect me both physically, emotionally, and spiritually. But I am also loved like crazy by a perfect Father who knows my pain, who authenticates earthly struggles on the cross, who holds me even when I scream obscenities in His direction. Pain whether physical or mental does not mean that Joy has stopped existing. It doesn't even mean that Joy cannot be experienced. Joy can be a choice. It is one I have seldom made recently, but not a choice that Pain can take away from. Pain can make it harder to identify. It can make Joy seem like an unrealistic dream. It can make the world look bleak. And lets be honest-- There is bleakness in the world. There is darkness and brokenness and oh so much Pain. But it does not make the world void of Joy.
So right now in this moment of clarity, I am making the choice to be Joyful. I am precious to the Holy one. I am never without Hope. I am beautiful and beloved and not a mistake. I was created on Purpose with a purpose. "More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5

I experience chronic pain. There aren't many people who see the worst of it. There aren't many people who really understand the frustration, pain and depression unless they experience chronic migraines.  It's been rough again lately. Not as bad as 11-Day Migraine. Not nearly as bad as ER-Migraine. But frequent. Now I take an anti seizure medication with a muscle relaxer daily and receive up to 10 injections in my necks every four months called trigger point injections. I have not found the perfect treatment and I do not know when it will end but I have a hope and a knowledge that one day it will. One day, I will no longer feel the ache in my neck creep and build into my temples. Whether that day comes in this earthly life or not, I don't know. That is the part that scares me sometimes. That is the part that moves my fingers to cling to the robes of Christ. I try to be grateful for every moment where I am pain free. Sometimes, I am very human and pity myself instead. However, I'm not going to do that thing where I say, "it could be worse" or, "I could be that person who (insert painful situation here)" because I don't think that God intended us to compare struggles to diminish them. We are to be vulnerable and transparent, to share our brokenness, to mourn with those who mourn and rejoice with those who rejoice because we all have a story. Paul, who claimed to be the least of these, mattered. My struggle matters to the Lord and though he takes no joy in my pain, I am beginning to trust Him with it and trust that it matters.  In fact, as I type, I am experiencing one of those moments where my mind is clear and free of pain. And it is beautiful and I so grateful! Thank you Lord for my body and for this moment of clarity. This has been a difficult and challenging two years because of this affliction and other factors and life events, but that is for another blog. I thank God for showing me His grace through a husband who mourn with me and cares for me. I thank God for showing me His discipline when I fall into self-pity by not letting me stay in my cocoon of self-deprecation and absorption. I thank God for forgiving and gracious friends who understand when I cancel plans or miss a phone call. I thank God for an understanding administration at work who, though I don't miss work often, have understood when I have needed too. I thank God for allowing me to be angry and to question.  My life is valuable and hard and Good. You are a Good, Good, Father.

The Cynic

A few days ago, a friend sent me an article written by a Christian Conservative Erick Erickson entitled “Reconsidering My Opposition to Trump” which I read twice and was immediately angered by. She was surprised by my reaction. Apparently the article was looking at both candidates in relation to the Christian faith and not showing bias or favor and was not actually supporting Trump, though I did not exactly read it in that light so to speak. Now, it is important to note that when it comes to our political ideals, I fall on the left and she falls on the right, so there was bound to be a difference in opinion, but the way in which we read the article was with a completely different attitude and tone with which we gave the author. It was fascinating. But the comment my sweet friend made to me that has stuck with over these passed few days was “Sydney, I’m sad you feel so cynical about humanity”.

I will not argue with that statement. I do feel cynical about humanity. And I believe that I have every right to feel this way. Does this mean that I believe that there is no hope left in the world? Well, kind of, at least, not of this world. I believe that My Savior has won already. But I do not believe in humanity. I see people love the money in their pockets as much as addicts loves their heroine. I not only see billionaires divided from poor, the sick and the hurting but I see my friends divided. I see those with special needs cast aside and separated from their peers, a barrier of miscommunication between them. I see a misogynist in a position of power with followers flanking his sides, standing in his shadow, defending his actions. I see people claiming to love God but renouncing morality and people claiming to love God and clinging to condemnation. I see my friends post videos of a twenty-four year old woman sitting in her comfy studio in her cute stylish dresses speaking bold words as sharp knives who has no right to more than half of her fire-spewed opinions who truly believes that her volatile “righteous” anger” is necessary and the truth. Perhaps she even believes it is a call from God. Children are dying, people are hurting, the black community is crying in pain for those who are being lost, police officers and their families are buckling under the stress and strain of the eyes that are on them. And so much more goes on that we do not even see. These words are only grazing the surface of the deep brokenness and fissures of pains that crack through this world. So much evil, so much division and dissension.

When God looks down and sees the actions of his creations, what do you think He thinks? Seriously? When he sees us cower in fear of Islamophobia and not care for our brothers and sisters, what do you think God thinks? When we repost videos of Tomi Lahren spewing her hate-fire, do you think God is re-chanting her words and fist-pumping along with the rhythm of her angry voice? Jesus knows when to get angry. Remember when He was flipping shit over in the temple when humanity was literally doing exactly what we are doing currently to the earth- taking something Holy and making it our our own personal flea-market-dumpster-combo. Jesus knows the difference between righteous anger and the need to hear your own voice. That Tomi Lahren character does not.
Are we reflecting the character of Jesus Christ in all that we are doing? Would He look at some of these tv personalities and say, “I know you. You fed me when I was hungry and clothed me when I was naked and visited me when I was in prison and gave me water when I was thirsty.” Would He look at us and be able to say, "I know you"?

If you cannot separate your relationship and your identity in the Lord Jesus Christ from your political affiliation, if you use your political party as an identity at all, that is a problem. Somewhere in your mind, the world has a grasp on you. Because Jesus Christ is not a Conservative or Democrat or Libertarian or Green Party Activist. He is the Son of God, make no mistake.

I just don’t understand sometimes friends. I get that we have different opinions on the small stuff, but on these bigger issues, there is just no getting around it. Are you with Jesus, or are you with the World? The choice is truly one or the other. It is not simply, it is just direct. Make a choice. If you are with Him, stop the hate. Do not live in your cocoon of indecisiveness, of inaction, of intolerance, or of ignorance. Do not pretend that reality has no part in your life. If you claim Jesus, then in the name of God and His Son, stand up and live as Jesus tells you to live and put your selfish fear away. You will not be alone. God is with you. There are others moving. Lay down your weapons and swords and trust in His lead. #ImwithHim

I Am Called to Financial Insecurity

Warning: I feel like this post has the potential to make certain people upset. I'm writing from my own experience and perspective. This post is meant to start an internal dialogue and to question the expectations of our culture. This isn't a judgement post, it's an opinion based on my interpretations of the will of God in my life and scripture.

It's 12:17 a.m. on a brisk Friday morning. I have to be up in seven hours and three minutes to take a shower, feed my cat, and make my chocolate chip waffle all in preparation for my day. It's 12:17 a.m. and I'm thinking about my future. I'm thinking about my God. I'm thinking about my calling. 

I was raised in Dublin, Ohio. It is a large suburb in the pocket of Columbus. It is predominately middle class. Contrary to popular belief, the streets are not paved with gold though they are constantly repaved. I grew up learning the importance of education, believing without question that I would graduate high school. I had every opportunity to attend college. I grew up believing I had potential.

I moved to Athens when I was 19. Much to the disapproval of many of the adults in my Dublin bubble, I chose to attend Ohio University, #1 party school. I was warned of the dangers of the college culture, how easy it was to be sucked in. In all honesty, I was excited to prove my doubters wrong. And I did. I did not get "sucked in" to college culture. It just wasn't me. I had no interest in going to a party with strange, drunken people all dancing to some mainstream dance song. For one thing, I'm an introvert so that environment just makes me want to die a little inside. For another thing, beer doesn't taste very good to me- I'm a wine girl. Lastly, I can't dance. Like, I'm actually awful. I didn't fall into being someone that I'm not, but I did fall into Appalachia. I fell in love with Athens. 

I had some experience with Appalachia before on mission trips in high school, but none like this. Confession: I have felt called since my junior year of high school to be financially insecure. This statement goes against the entire culture I was raised in. I'm not directly saying financial security is wrong. I'm saying middle class America has turned this concept into a god. 

Jesus was a vagabond. He travelled from city to city loving people. He was a carpenter from Nazareth. Nothing in scripture points to Jesus being consumed by His financial situation. Consumerism was not a part of the Son of Man's M.O. In fact, in Matthew 6:24 Jesus says, "No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money." Jesus intentionally put both Himself and His followers in a position that required complete dependence on the Father for everything. 

I grew up in a social culture that placed pressure on me to find a good job, move back to Dublin or an identical piece of suburbia, get married to a guy with a well-paying, economically sustainable occupation, and  to stay home to raise my kids. I'm going to be honest with you- though I don't reject every aspect of that lifestyle, it makes me want to physically be sick and this is why: Having a good job is not wrong. Being a stay-at-home mom is not wrong. Being married to a guy with a high paying job is not wrong. Finding my value and my worth in those things is. My whole being rejects the idea of becoming a cog in the world. Because I don't fucking belong here. I was created for greater things. I was created for God. And I hear his voice calling me to trust in His provision.

Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow. -Isaiah 1:17

Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor. Do not plot evil against each other.' Zechariah 7:10

Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed- Psalm 82:3

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.- James 1:27

Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body....Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”  -Hebrews 13:1

Scripture is filled with the command to no longer conform to the pattern of this world but to be transformed with the renewing of your minds. Then, and only then, will you be able to test and approve what God's will is, His good, pleasing, and perfect will.(Romans 12:2)

I have been called to love people. I have been called to live a life that rejects the world and listens to His voice. His voice called me to become a teacher in the most economically disadvantaged county in Ohio with no visible sign of future economic growth. 

I have been abundantly blessed with both privilege and opportunity. I was raised by wonderful parents who financially supported me through my life. I worry far too often that my choices will disappoint them. But I feel in my soul I am where I am supposed to be. I feel my God's hand in my life carrying me towards a part of the brokenness that breaks His heart. I feel Him telling me that worldly possessions and experiences will wither and die but the will of Him, His touch of love will last for eternity (Isaiah 40:8).

As of right now in this season, I am not called to be financially secure. That does not mean I will not be financially responsible. It means that my budget will be tight. It means that my children's childhood will probably look very different from my own. That's not wrong, it's just a different perspective, a different way of doing things. Blessings look different, and I am blessed by this calling to see the Lord in this frightening way. 

I will follow Him because His ways are higher than my ways and His thoughts are higher than my thoughts (Isaiah 55:8). His ways are higher than the expectations of those around me, even of those who helped to raise me. Ultimately, I am being raised and refined by a perfect Father one who tells me that whoever claims to live in Him must live as Jesus lived (1 John 2:6). And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit (2 Corinthians 3:18).

I will end with this quote from the inspiring Brennan Manning:

Let us be bold enough to ask ourselves as Christians whether the Church of the Lord Jesus in the United States has anything to say to our nation and its ideologies of materialism, possessiveness, and the worship of financial security. Are we courageous enough to be a sign of contradiction to consumerism through our living faith in Jesus Christ? Are we committed enough to his gospel to become a countercurrent to the drift?- Brennan Manning

The Rabbit Hole

Happiness is our war: The dilemma of generations

We have been told a lie

We have been told what to seek

We have been told what is precious

We have been told what is missing

We have been given a destiny

The earth rotates around ideas

The world echoes the voices of the majority

It speaks of significance

Love

Happiness

Synonymous.

We can't deal with depression

It is unnatural

It is pain

It is something to bury and burn and crucify

We hide

As small children under the covers away from the monsters

Beneath the bed, they lurk

Close enough to touch

The lovely world

A temptress of distractions

The rabbit hole in Alice's wonderland

We are children

We long for contentment, for sameness, for monotony

We crave structure

And if we attain it, we give into our nature

Destruction

A flare for the dramatics

We need something to fight for

We are rebels without a cause

Happiness becomes our war

And for what?

For love?

"Love makes us happy", we are told by the echoes

"Love is happiness."

"Love is contentment."

"Love is sameness."

"Love is monotonous."

Laughter

Mocking laughter

The world turns violently

It doesn't fit

Like a toothpick in a lock

It doesn't fit

It is hard

It seems daunting

Impossible

The stuff of fairytales

Of Rapunzel in her tower

With a biting wind, the leaves fall dead to the earth

Seasons change

Happiness fades in this way

Destiny, echoes, purpose tells us to fight for happiness

No

I fight for freedom

I fight for opportunity

I fight for hard times

I fight for true, messy love

The kind of love you must hold dearly

The love that humbles the soul

The stuff of grace

The love deep in the crevices of brokenness

Like rivers, these divots run along the earth

Branches connecting identities

A bloodline

A mother loses her child

A man watches war raze his city to the dusty earth

A girl curls beneath the covers

Hiding from the monsters beneath the bed

Outside the door

A husband stands beside his wife as death courses through her veins

Where is happiness in these times?

Where is purpose?

Love cannot exist in the absence of happiness, of pleasure

And yet...

The mother's heart is torn in two in love for her lost child

The man falls to his knees

Agonizing passion for his scorched city

The girl longs for the monsters outside the bedroom door

To hold her tightly

The husband adores his sick wife as tears brush his cheeks

The agony

A result of deep Love

Love hurts

Love surpasses merely a feeling

Love is a decision

Love is tested

Love is refined

Love is a gift

Love is worth it

Love never fails

Happiness fails

Pleasure and love

The dilemma of generations