Faith Is Worth The Fight

This too shall pass

I wrote this poem many moons ago, but today it is heavy on my mind. It's been a little dark in my heart lately. A hope has left and I'm grappling with the vacillation between fatalistic surrender and the discipline of effort sustaining where faith has failed. Or alludes. Or needs redefined.

The band delirious? sang these lyrics in their song Obsession. It's been one of those stick-to-my-soul kind of lyrics since I first heard it a decade ago. I feel lonely without hope. I feel desperate without vision. Conjuring hope, vision, purpose - these are hard things to snap and create or re-create or re-create again. When nothing satisfies (credit that to the wonderful Jenn Knapp), when the soul is dry and thirsty (credit that to a Psalm of David), when the storm overpowers the lightness of day (credit to myself - as seen below), what can be done? Can personal effort really make change? How does a semi-(emotionally or spiritually) crippled person walk across a room for help, sustenance, redemption - a will to choose something (anything), when the heart is numb? When the future is blank? When the purpose in the pain is intangible? When all effort seems to be flailing about? Or failing.

I don't have answers, but I do have the Psalms. Passages full of meaning, depth, struggle - the GOD I'M FREAKING OUT...BUT kind of stuff. BUT. But. But you are Good. You are Love... This too shall Pass. Peace and direction and vision and purpose will be restored. Defined. Redefined. Rediscovered. Exile doesn't last forever. Beauty for Ashes. All things new.

In light of those age-old passages of struggling comfort, here is one of my own - my "modern day psalm." Today, I meditate on what it meant to my 22 year old self's confusion and angst and rough waters to write it. And what it means in the present. If it was true for me then, it will be true for me now.

A simplistic faith sustains. Faith is worth the fight.

This Too Shall Pass

The storm overpowers the lightness of day

In its consistent sleet of darkened memories

I know not when it began but I know its strength

I've been here before-it knows no boundaries.

In the murky shadows, near and in the distance

The cold breath of fear has its claws in my frozen heart

Unable to take shelter because of its enormity

Stuck and struck with its embrace, I cannot escape.

Then reality sets in and battle scars stand on edge

The wisdom from days gone by presents itself trusting

I draw from every place I know to find strength

The ability to keep walking, moving, standing

On the truth and in the light that darkness shall pass

I hold to the simplistic faith that sustains

And I fight. Because I've learned, from days spent drenched

Never to question in the dark what I knew to be true in the light.

C2003, Lindsay Louise Bachman

Randoms (10)

I have to get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part ten.

• Selah, my second baby, turned one last week. We celebrated in the usual way - with a party, full of cousins and cake and pumpkin painting. It was a fall fest of sorts. I think the other children had more fun than she did. She seemed quite overwhelmed with the chaos (that's my girl!) and promptly got sick two days later, right in time for her actual birthday. But despite her nonchalant attitude about the party, Selah is usually quite pleasant and thrilled to engage people. She makes very hilarious sounds but doesn't say any real words. (I don't count dada because I'm not certain she knows what the word means!! Also, I'm holding out that mama will be her first real word.) Selah is a precious addition to our family. Precious!!! She is determined, efficient, beautiful and so quirky. She does very odd things that make us all giggle and adore her all over again. Daily, she captures my heart. We all melt in her presence. I'm so excited to see who she continues to grow and develop into in this coming new year of life.
• I continue to become more and more uncertain about our future here in Pittsburgh or in the least, I'm very much questioning whether or not things should continue as they are. (church, location, events, etc...) I don't know if it's the natural, preprogrammed, school days ideology that the season of fall equates change or if it's the job search Michael continues to explore in other states and countries that has me unsettled. Really? In truth, I simply just believe in my core that change is a-comin'. I've been saying it and sensing it for months and although I know I'm a bit crazy, I'm not often wrong about change. I smell it; like a shark smells blood. And it gives me a craving for the new, for the interruption, for the pursuit to organize the uncontrollable, a chance to face my fears. Masochistic, bored or really brilliant? We shall see.
• I got into an interesting discussion recently with an older couple while waiting for a friend to join me for happy hour. They were slightly mocking their friend who recently purchased a great camera, takes good pictures and now suddenly identifies himself a photographer. We talked a bit about the arts and how it can be quite complicated to know when it is appropriate to identify oneself as "an artist." (photographer, designer, writer, etc..) On one hand, I've taken some pretty awesome pics of my children. But I am not a photographer. On the other hand, I do write (fairly well? i hope.) but still cringe when introduced as someone who does so. It's a difficult and humbling thing to risk identifying oneself by a passion and yet, what else SHOULD we identify ourselves as? I am not the perfect Christian or Wife or Mother or Social Media Consultant but I still AM those things. I am not the most faithful blogger or the best writer, but I still DO.  When does DO become AM? When is it appropriate to identify ourselves by these things? I don't know; but I'm thinking through it. (And I would love your thoughts.)
• Speaking of happy hour(s), I need them. Often. Like once a week. On top of my intimate once a week Girls Night with my three best friends in Pittsburgh. I recently talked to an old friend across the state about how consuming parenting can be and encouraged her to get out once a week for coffee or drinks with a girlfriend. I really believe in getting out, especially as a SHM. It's what gives me hope in the monotony. It's not about the drinkS (solely), it's about the make-up and high heels and adult conversation. It's about being human. It can be so easy to lose yourself in the grind of anything. I'm careful not to. It takes intentionality, planning and budgeting but it's worth it. I'm so lucky to have a husband who agrees and does what it takes to support me in this.
• I recently had a CLOSET CRASH COURSE with a friend. You can read about it here. It was a wonderful experience and I'm finding myself getting more creative. She gave me some great pointers and hints but mostly, she gave me courage and confidence in my closet. I'm still not at "my perfect weight" (does that even exist??), but she showed me how to use what I have to be current and accessorize better. That makes me feel good, especially in the morning when I'm selecting what to wear (or not).
• My children get up at 7:15 most every morning. Instead of waiting for them to act as my alarm clock, I've been getting up at 7am for a quick shower, make-up and dress. Yes, I can do all of those things in about 15 minutes. I can't even begin to tell you how much better my days are going since I began this discipline. It also helps that the kid's outfits are set out the night before and milk cups and bottles are filled and waiting in the fridge. Some people would call this crazy. I think it's genius. Instead of reacting to the chaos of early morning children, I anticipate their needs and have it all as ready as possible. It's the difference between a frazzled and peaceful morning. It works for me, for us.  But this, this little kid stuff is still hard. Worthwhile and beautiful but hard.

Signing off...lots of love to you.

I'm Always Glad I Came

...the correlation between sex and worship

Here's my confession; I don't always want to have sex with my husband.

Here's another; I don't always want to go to church, or more specifically, I don't always want to worship.

Something I've learned over the years of being a Believer and therefore a worshipper of God is that spiritual disciplines don't exist so God can enslave us with yet another mandate. God isn't about the system or the program; God does not ask us to jump through hoops just because He can.

One of the biggest fallacies I experienced growing up in a legalistic, Independent Baptist church is that God can be bought. Ironically, for a denomination that so heavily rests on a free-will, saved by grace, anti-Catholic doctrine, they put a hell of a lot of weight on works. No, you can't technically get to heaven for doing your daily devos and witnessing, but you sure get a crap load of gold stars, I mean crowns, for doing so. In that faith practice, there is certainly a narrow way to heaven and that path is a landmine, riddled with ways to work your way into God's good graces.

If spiritual disciplines do not exist to win God's favor, why is it important to read the Bible, pray, meditate, fast and worship? Do the spiritual disciplines really even matter?

For me, it's the basics. It's getting a solid foundation set so that when hard times come and faith-testing times seem endlessly knocking, I have built healthy habits that point me toward positive thinking, a productive prayer life, an attitude of thanks and a heart of worship. Even in the bleakest times in my faith and even if most of my prayers consist of me M-F-ing the situation, I still pray. I commune with my Savior. If I don't have that, I don't have much.

And even when I'm mad at my church. Or Church at large. Even when I disbelieve and distrust and question the entirety of faith gatherings as a concept, I am simply unable to disconnect from corporate worship for very long. Because it's habit. It's what I do. It's who I am. And even if I fought with my family and disagreed with the opening prayer and someone looked at me funny before worship even started, I'm always (or at least usually) glad I came. I'm much happier after I do. There is something to be said for perseverance. There is gratification in obedience.

Here's why I'm discovering that sex is like worship...

Usually based off of bad hollywood depictions or sheer ignorance there is this ever-present thought that sex should be some super-glamorous thing, every single time. That the ideal sexual expression consists of a happy couple, in the mood, at the exact time the other is, raring to go at the drop of a hat. (or when the kids go to bed) If this depicts your marriage, please come over (with a few bottles of wine) and explain yourself to me. For most of us, post-kids especially, it's not that glamorous. Sometimes, in even the happiest, well-rested moments, it's still one person conjuring up the energy and desire to "do it," simply because it's what the other one wants/needs.

The faithful practice of marital sex seems to come right down to the basics; a solid foundation set so that when hard times come and relational testing times seem endlessly knocking, there has been healthy habits built that point toward positive thinking, open communication, an attitude of thanks and a heart to give pleasure. Even in the bleakest times of marriage and even if most dinner table conversations consist of bills, kids, bitching and moaning, it's vital to come together, unified in intercourse. It's a discipline - giving of self for the sake of what is right, needed, requested or wanted. If we can't do that, we can't do much.

Like worship, sex is in-part, communion - the bread and cup...to remember. Remember. Remember the times that were light and lovely, easy and endearing, tested and true. Like worship, there will be times that seem effortless, fluid, exciting and alluring - overwhelmingly enticing - like moving air and water and fire and earth. But other times, when reality is so hard it feels like it's breaking you and your spouse apart, there is something to be said for perseverance, for going through the motions. There is gratification in obedience - an act of worship. I believe God honors that. Our spouses will too. No matter what else is going on in life, personally, I'm ALWAYS glad I came. I'm much happier after I do.

Something I've been challenged with this summer, in both my marriage and faith journey is not to question in the dark what I knew to be true in the light - to stick to the disciplines - even if it feels like I'm going through the motions. One reward of many? I'm always glad I came.

Randoms (9)

I have to get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part nine.


• My baby turned two last week and was simply an angel face, mesmerized by cake candles, tissue paper and brightly colored trains! His obsession with trains has only intensified after receiving one choo-choo after the other as well as a large train table, which now takes up some significant space in my all too crowded living room. He is bright and hope-filled, full of strong emotions and unintelligible words. He is purposeful and inquisitive, and drinks more milk (muk) than I think should be humanly possible. He tests us daily but he makes us laugh even more. He adores sister time and mommy hugs and dada rough housing. Nico is Nico; unique and special and truly wonderfully made.

• I visited a different church on Sunday. It’s funny; all the analogies of Christ and “His Bride” have had an odd subconscious effect on me. I evidently think of my local church, where I am a member, as my boyfriend. By visiting another church I found myself somehow feeling as if I’ve cheated on ‘him.’ I’m weird, with a guilty conscience. (I was raised Baptist people, cut me some slack!)

At any rate, the new church we checked out was very different. Small and casual and young and media heavy and coffee-centric. I liked it, quite a bit actually, especially the worship which was contemporary but not showy, technically excellent and reverent. I’m so used to ‘big church’ so anything less than a few thousand in attendance is shocking, and somehow refreshing. Big has its advantages, but so does small. I think this is one of those things that depend on the needs and desires and preferences of you and your family. To be clear, I am not making any proclamations of leaving my church. Or church in general for that matter. I’m just feeling out the changes my family and I are going through. And it’s good to explore sometimes. If I do decide to make some changes in this area it will be for the reasons stated above and that should be honored and supported. Sometimes I think the test of a truly free and positive faith community is measures not just in how they build one another up but how they release others to worship and serve elsewhere.

• I think handing out formula to new mothers is like handing out condoms to teens. Just because a new mom has a free can of milk doesn’t mean she’ll give up her breastfeeding ideals (if she has them in the first place) and give her baby the stuff in the same way that an abstinent committed teen isn’t going to have illicit sex just because she was given a condom. Everywhere I turn; people are freaking out about other people’s agendas and then responding with an agenda. It’s kind of exhausting. I’d like to respond to some of these shenanigans with a big “shut the hell up” but alas, that’d be yet another agenda.

• I’ve been thinking about some decisions that I’ve made lately and deeply impressed with this idea that sometimes (-SOMETIMES-) the perceived ‘right thing’ isn’t always the ‘obedient thing.’ Circumventing process may be easier, but may not be the divine purpose intended for us. So often, I just want to make suffering and awkwardness and discomfort GO AWAY for me and for others. But sometimes, doing so actually prolongs the season of pain because it’s IN the trial that perseverance is created and therefor, character built.

• I enjoy this cooler weather so much. It’s so nice to inhale the sweet smell of last night’s rain vs. the stagnant humidity of 90 degrees. This summer has been rough; almost like a freezing winter in that it’s impossible to take my children outside when it’s suffering-hot. Selah, plain and simple, cannot handle the heat. I’m not that much better.

• I look forward to fall like I look forward to getting well. (I’ve been non-contagiously sick for weeks!) Summer hadn’t only been HOT as HELL it’s been rough in lots of ways. I’m ready for a new season marked by a hopeful harvest.

Signing off! Have a nice day

Gay or Straight: We Still Have to Say Something

I don’t know what’s going on. Is this really our world? My world? The world I’m raising children in?

When I read The Help, I was aghast (and reminded) of how not that long ago racial segregation was an accepted part of this country. That hate crimes and rampant lies were spread about “colored folk” in order to further certain group’s agendas. Or ignorance. Or bigotry. Part of the book made me weep. People suffered for the right to be judged by the content of their heart and not the color of their skin.

A big triumph happened when Barack Obama became president. Regardless of your political affiliation, you cannot deny the huge victory his election was for all people who believe in racial equality. We have more room to grow and areas we still need to be conscience of, for sure, but still… we’ve come a long way in a short period of time.

I’ve been thinking a lot about boycotts, and protests, and in what forum it matters or makes sense to voice controversial ideas and opinions. I’ve been thinking a lot about Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. – how he preached and died for equality, how he managed to protest peacefully in and outside of church, political, and public arenas. I’ve been thinking about his stand against the Vietnam War, in addition to his involvement in the Poor People's Movement, Equal Voting Rights and Desegregation. Though it may or may not have been his main focus, he invested in an anti-Vietnam military presence because he believed that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” (MLK, 1967)

I’ve been thinking about silence and how often evil resides in it. From varying degrees, like the code of secrets in the Penn State scandal to the unmeasured horror of the Holocaust to even this…this current matter of homosexual persecution that we are facing daily in this country. And I’m wondering, why I never tied them, in some ways, together. I’m wondering (mostly because I was ASKED), why Christians (I use this term in a narrow sense, though there are a LOT of us, meaning, those of us who aren’t killing gays, beating the gay out of our kids, sending them to crazy camp, denying adoption rights to gay couples, calling for gay teacher resignations, spreading malicious and unfounded lies about the gay community, crying about chick-fil-a protests while sitting at an abortion clinic screaming ‘whore’ at a pregnant teen, etc…) have been so silent on the matter.

Injustice is injustice. Do we get to pick and choose which injustice (which is easiest/personally rewarding/relatable) or which cause we care about? Did Jesus? I think something happens when we turn a blind eye to hate crimes and bigotry. We become numb. We become hard. We become part of the persecution. We become the abuser. There does come a point when there is no grey, where we have to say I am for this or I am against this and count our costs because our silence, by default, says it's okay.

I know. I know sole-scriptora and the evangelicals view on marriage. I know the ins and outs of that discussion (debate) more thoroughly than I want to. But, that’s not really the issue here. People who believe it’s wrong to be gay or excuse me, ‘practice homosexuality,’ also usually believe that pre-marital sex and co-habitation and divorce are wrong as well. But I don’t see protests and crimes being committed against the adulterers and fornicators and divorcees (in this country at least). The reason I say personal view or preference on homosexuality (biblically based or otherwise) isn’t the point is because it’s inconsistent. Because it’s irrelevant. It’s a self-righteous platform. It's the easy way out, and it's always easier to turn a blind eye to persecution. But it's never right.

Bottom line, hate is never okay. When you are part of or even silent about hate, hate crimes and mean-spirited accusations, you are an enemy of God. Seriously. If you hate gay people but say you love God, you are a liar. Meaning, you hate God. (1 John 4:20)

There are a lot of things on the table here. Faith, love, hate, politics, money, pride, fear so it’s easy for even the moderate, non-judging Christians to dismiss the whole thing out of confusion and lack of personal investment in either camp. I know. It’s where I was about 24 hours ago. Until a neighbor posted an article that made me weep. That made me cringe. That made me THINK. And while I don’t know the ins and outs of “my stand” on the issue, I know my God’s stand on love. And hate.

I know God detests injustice.

"First they came for the Communists but I was not a Communist

so I did not speak out.

Then they came for the Socialists and the Trade Unionists but I was not one of them,

so I did not speak out.

Then they came for the Jews but I was not Jewish

so I did not speak out.

And when they came for me,

there was no one left to speak out for me."

-Martin Niemoeller

Just because it’s not you or me, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t speak out. Just because we’re unsure (or not even) where we 'theologically' stand on the issue doesn’t give us a pass in protesting hate, bigotry, violence and injustice.

I guess I’m calling all Christians (or at least myself) to say something. “Even if you're not FOR homosexuality be AGAINST the hate toward it. As in, you don't have to be jumping up waving your rainbow flag to stand up for our fellow [wo]men who are being wounded by this hatred.” (Chloe MacCarty) Let’s keep ourselves away from its claws, the poison of bitterness and the desire to execute 'an eye for an eye' type vengeance.

Learn to do good;

Seek justice, Reprove the ruthless,

Defend the orphan, Plead for the widow.

(Isaiah 1:17 NASB)

Randoms (8)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part eight.

I cannot believe my son turns TWO in a week and a half. It feels like I’ve known him forever and yet, just yesterday, he was a tiny baby. I think I get it now, what older people say about time flying. When kids are your world, diaper changes and snacks and meals and naps, the days go slow but the weeks fly by. Time is flying. It makes me a little melancholy.

I’ve been sentimental lately. I have an intense desire to build and cultivate deep friendships with specific, God-given people. I am unapologetically choosy about who I consider my relational inner sanctum. I can’t be a good friend to tons of people. I can’t go a mile wide and a mile deep. I know this sounds foolishly pessimistic and ever-annoyingly cliché but, life is short. I want those who are in my life, walking this road of friendship and accountability, to know just how much they mean to me. I want to share the love, to yoke unity and passion and trust among this band of sisters, friends, confidants. I want to make these short years count. In the end, people are the only infallible, indispensable investment. I want to be a good friend. I want to model that for my children.

My brother-in-law on my husband’s side temporarily moved in with us this week as he and his family plan to relocate from Lancaster to Pittsburgh. I am reminded that nothing comes free. This new adventure doesn’t come without sacrifice or change, but nothing good ever does. We have a full house but I’m learning that a full house is usually a happier house. Life isn't about avoiding inconveniences or pain. It's about who you are IN IT that defines who you are OUTSIDE of it. Michael and I have always wanted to be people who keep our hearts open. Often, that means your home as well.

I made @cityflicker Freelance real this month. I’m officially a tax-paying, revenue-creating, work-from-home business owner. EEKS! Here’s a secret; I have no idea what I’m doing. Here’s another secret, I kinda like it. I feel very strongly that this little social media consulting gig I somehow stumbled upon is actually a stepping stone for something else and yet I can’t quite put my finger on it. I don’t think I’ll end up here, managing a few small business Facebook pages (okay, yes, I do more than that), and yet I can’t see down and around this long and twisty trail. I simply yet firmly and somehow intuitively know that I am doing what I am supposed to be. Sometimes it seems like some grand (hard but rewarding) Purpose is pushing me out of the nest, demanding I leave when it’s easier to just stay put. I’ve been asking my whole life to fly and when given the opportunity, I have reservations (and sometimes lame excuses). The nest IS small and unchallenging; it is safe. Let’s not kid ourselves that comfort is a primal default. But I was born for more than statuesque and a 9-5er so, here we are. Here we go. Fly it is. (Can someone give me directions?)

Randoms (7)

...the disconnected, intertwined stuff I'm thinking edition.

Life is changing. There is movement happening all around me. People moving out and others moving in, friend circles becoming more intimate, circumstances aligning, healing encounters, conversations creating thought, thought stimulating growth and growth redefining the old. "Things have been set into motion that cannot be undone." Aslan is on the move.

I've become more convinced in these past few weeks that church is about relationship more so than "worship." I used to ask the frustrated questions;

• What is church?
• Outside of what we've made it - a structure and an institution - what was the intended purpose?

Recently I've just been asking;

• HOW do I worship?

Because in the end, I think my family "does church" pretty damn well. It's how to engage God corporately in worship that we now seek meaning and practice in.

I'm amazed at how people/institutions/leadership seem to "change" once individuals are able, open and ready to change themselves. Perspective is everything. If you are merely a man, you hold no power over others. You can't control or manipulate any part of another's life unless they allow it. Fear is a fallacy, which makes me thoroughly question the ever-present victim mentality of people leaving church, "hurt." Do systems hurt people? Sure. But only if permitted to do so. Jesus kicked out the BUYERS and the sellers at Temple. He had little grace for those who permit themselves to be used and manipulated.

Sometimes I just want to tell everyone to STOP. Stop the show, the charade, the fake boundaries, the rules, the regulated responses, the cause crusades, the right words. I just don't think HE cares about the bullshit. What are we all so busy DOING, really? Jesus' work?

C'mon!

The song Heart of Worship came out of a church feeling like they were putting on a show, the ever-present Sunday morning circus. They spent weeks without music, PowerPoint, singers, microphones and leaders and simply prayed and meditated. Out of the dead silence and seeking, soul searching and sincerity the song was birthed; people coming as they were, stripped down, raw, at-core. I want to live like that. Bare and therefore open. It's all about relationship. I need to worship that way too.

I read this article recently and was blown away. Read it. Please.

I have been challenged to think through decisions and motives for work and worship recently and have been surprised at the role fear, shame and guilt have played. I am learning that these ugly forces are not the intention for my life, for your life. Obligatory worship, relationships, and otherwise are not what God desires for His creation.

If you are in that place, strip down, be naked, and get re-built.

I am.

Being changed. It's my desire to stay in the process.

Let's all stay engaged, friends.

Journey, Not Construct

…because I am no longer afraid

When I am pregnant and in the early months of caring for an infant, my body and heart go into auto-mode. And my soul - my brain and my spirit - shut down. I can only think inch-deep.

I am finally thinking again.

I have a lot to ponder; two and a half years worth of feelings and thoughts and sermons and circumstances and injustices and advice and experiences and memories and arguments and blessings and truths spoken to, at, for and around me.

My mind is busy; my spirit alive. I am fully engaged, for the first time in years or in some ways, for the first time ever. And I realize more and more that I am changed. I don’t think the same. What was common thought and response before 2009 is just not, now. Some things are more important, others less so. Something profound happened after I gave birth to Selah that impacted me so thoroughly and positively. I gained strength. I gleaned perspective and tenacity and a rock-hard inner peace from the reaping floor of that bloody birth room. I lost my edge, in the defensive way and gained an authority, the honest kind.

I am free.

I am free because I am no longer afraid (to generally quote V for Vendetta).

In this awakening of thought and soul, I have found old desires resurrecting and new chapters beginning. It’s an untangled web of interconnected threads. My heart feels like it is finally home. And unlike a building, the reconstruction of old foundations and cracked pillars, I am simply on a journey without construct. It is both exhilarating and terrifying. My Germanic (or evangelical Christian) need for order and rules and definition cries for perimeter to control my thoughts, lists to measure successes, and clarity to catalogue when I have failed.

I don’t know where this new path is taking me. But I am excited. And nervous. For the first time, I am questioning the entire box of religion and every system of control that has slithered its way into my life. Well, maybe this isn’t my first rodeo of questioning but it IS the first time I’ve questioned this deeply from a place of hope, not hate – relationship, not isolation. It’s quite beautiful here, in this place of free-seeking. I love life more when I get to wade in its pleasantries instead of discipline my way into its deep.

Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.

- Westminster Confession of Faith

Yes, thank you. I think I will.

The Policy of Truth

The Difference Between Truth and Honesty by guest writer, M.T. Flickinger

These are the things stirring among us. I am honored to engage love, life and faith with such a brilliant heart and honest mind. With this one? I am challenged.  - Lindsay/Bleeding Worship

No doubt, you've probably heard variations on truth and honesty. As such, you've also probably heard attempts to reconcile them in such a fashion that you could apply them correctly to your own life. I still have not heard a comprehensive reconciliation between these two concepts - the relationship between truth and honesty. I find that problematic.

My grandfather died on Easter Sunday in April of 2012. I loved that man and he loved me (in the fashion of a grizzled WWII veteran, of course). I didn't speak at his funeral, but my cousin did and he shared a few stories. As a child, he and his parents vacationed with our grandparents at a beach in New Jersey. Sometimes, he and our grandfather would walk together - just the two of them - and talk about things. One of the things he remembers our grandfather saying to him was, "Not everyone needs to know everything."

I love Depeche Mode. Granted, they are a bit sacrilegious, but appear rather timid next to bands like Slayer. One of my favorite songs is "The Policy of Truth." In short, the song talks about a friend of the singer who follows a strict tell-all policy in life. As it goes, this friend divulged some information and it bit him it the butt, so he's paying the price for adhering to this policy so rigidly. My favorite part of the song are these lyrics:

Now you're sitting there tongue-tied

You better learn your lesson well

Hide what you have to hide

And tell what you have to tell

You'll see your problems multiply

If you continually decide

To faithfully pursue

The policy of truth

Now, initially, it appears that the singer is encouraging dishonesty because he uses the word "hide." One might argue that he is, in fact, advocating a sort of selective honesty, whereby self-preservation defines what and how much to say on any subject. I don't think he's talking about selective honesty at all. Instead, he's advocating discretion because not everyone needs to know everything.

Let's use a practical example to illustrate my point. Let's say you've got a rather sordid past. You've slept around. A lot. You have some mixed feelings about it, but you're not burdened with guilt. You've come to terms with it and it doesn't hold anything over your head anymore. You're in good shape. Now, let's say you meet someone and the two of you decide to get serious. Does your love interest need to know everything about your past? Does he or she need to know the people you slept with or the specifics about why you slept with them? Or can you just tell your love interest, "Hey, back in the day, I sowed a lot of wild oats. I kind of feel bad about it, but I'm not that way anymore." Are you lying to your hope-to-be lover? Are you being dishonest? Are you withholding yourself? No, of course not. Why? Because not everyone needs to know everything.

Here's the difference between truth and honesty. Truth is the existence of the irrefutable, undeniable, and inescapable. Honesty is the heart's expression of faithfulness and devotion to a cause, individual, relationship, or deity.

Truth is universal in nature and infinite in possibility. As it applies to individuals or as individuals seek it out, it becomes very specific and poignant, but never loses its overarching attributes. One might argue that this is a fancy way to describe perception. It isn't. Truth is an independent variable that simply exists. Deny it or accept it, know it or not know it, truth doesn't change. Instead, it just is. Furthermore, truth is neutral. God and Satan both use it. Think about it. God's biggest moments revolve around His use of truth in the lives of human beings and how it permanently changed their hearts, behavior, and circumstances for the better. On the other hand, Satan's best lies and biggest accomplishments successfully intertwined truth with fabrication and people believed him. How either entity uses truth is a direct reflection of their hearts, hence why God is honest and Satan is dishonest - the former uses truth to facilitate freedom and protect life, but the latter uses truth to facilitate slavery and collect power.

So, what does it mean to be honest? This is fun question because stereotypical church policy and stale-bread, watered-down Christian rubberstamp morals advocate that honest means this: As "good Christians," we must report all events of impropriety or immorality immediately and, furthermore, if we do not divulge everything we know at any point, we are dishonest because we either are outright lying or lying via omission. Sounds really familiar, doesn't it? It's a load of crap and, if you were verbally engaged in this topic with me, it would all pretty much be expletives. This definition is shallow, selfish, and, quite frankly, stupid. Really stupid. Why? There are two major reasons.

First, this definition avoids dealing with the complexity that inherently surrounds the human heart when it comes to the recognition and application of truth - i.e. honesty. In fact, it bypasses it all together. Honesty is an expression of the heart's faithfulness and devotion to someone or something. Honesty is a state of existence whereby the choices you make align with the people you love, the God you worship, and the causes you advocate. Honesty is the pursuit of truth with the intent to change - not because you are forced, but because you despise stagnation and want to grow. Honesty tackles the contradictions of life with courage and recognizes that conflictual truths can exist, sometimes in the same situation or relationship. Honesty seeks to live with integrity within the bearer's heart above all else. Honesty protects people and carries the burdens of knowledge with humility and dignity because not everyone needs to know everything.

Second, the church cliché of honesty is actually extremely selfish because it fears the burden of knowledge. It is riddled with a guilt-driven perception of the world in two ways. First, if you see something or know something, it's initially perceived as "bad" or "sinful" if you do not disclose it immediately and that concept of unspoken knowledge being somehow sinful or bad is stupid and, frankly, insulting. Just because I see something and refrain from saying anything doesn't mean I'm sinning or lying by omission. Second, by the cliché definition, the only reason to divulge information is to relieve yourself of responsibility and avoid feeling guilty. It makes no allowance for timing, another person's feelings, or relationships in general. Instead, it purely seeks the emotional appeasement of the knowledge bearer and the absolution of responsibility and guilt. This is not an expression of love. Instead, love holds knowledge and waits for the time to present it or it keeps that knowledge to itself, trusting God and making allowance for the lives and feelings of others. Why? Because not everyone needs to know everything.

Wisdom is the application of knowledge. Discernment is the timing of wisdom's knowledge. Discretion is the patience to wait on discernment's proper timing. Honesty is the expression of your heart as it seeks to utilize wisdom, discernment, and discretion. Think about it this way. Recently, I heard someone admit that he made a bad decision in his life and only now realized it. This person's friend wanted to warn him about it way back then, but felt extremely conflicted due to the relationship and the delicate nature of the situation, so he chose to refrain. After learning this information, the person who made the bad decision said to his friend, "I wouldn't have listened to you then anyway." Now, these two individuals enjoy greater freedom because, years after the fact, the truth is being spoken through honesty - on both their parts, exactly the way it needs to be for their relationship to improve.

It takes a strong heart to carry the burden associated with some pieces of knowledge. Not all things are meant to be spoken and, certainly, not all things are meant to be spoken immediately. If we love people, then we need to bear this in mind. This is not deception. Instead, it's the hard work associated with paying attention to another human being on a fairly intricate level. You learn a man and you learn how to talk to him. That's the point. Truth will always exist, whether you say it or not. Honesty is not the divulgence of secrets or knowledge to another person. Rather, it is the expression of the motivations in our heart as you relate to another person. A dishonest man will be dishonest, even if he tells you the truth. An honest man will be honest, even if he doesn't tell you anything. It's the heart, not the words. It's the timing, not the event. It's the compassion, not the guilt. It's the love, not the fear. Paying attention to people and their hearts is a far more noble and difficult endeavor than the selfishness associated with the vomitous regurgitation of information without thought or care to the person covered in puke, reeling from the stench of it.

Randoms (6)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part six.

• Yesterday was my first day as a stay-at-home mom.  I originally anticipated Monday being my first day, but my family hated my oatmeal, I did not work out, or go to the park and then I stayed up really late talking with husband and drinking wine.  YES, yesterday was a better day to officially begin...with fresh muffins made, a coffee and play date with friends complete, a walk to the park - check, my workout finished and a healthful dinner on the table when Michael came home...   I'm all about solid beginnings. 
• I finally celebrated my 30th birthday (un-pregnant) this weekend.  I haven't been really able to count myself 32 until I officially partied.  I know, what am I? 21?  NO, clearly.  But I'm just the kind of person who needs to celebrate milestones with significant friends and family and, wine.  It was a lovely weekend marked by life-changing conversations. I really do have beautiful, life-giving, honest, intelligent friends.  I am blessed. And now I can really begin my 30's, or begin again. 
• I began strong with my #30DayShred micro-blog on twitter (cityflicker) but puttered out this weekend while a friend was in town and parties were had.  I started again yesterday but I'm really bad at new, new beginnings.  I abhor starting after failing.  Time to get over myself, I suppose.
• I'm truly hating this workout experience.  I'm simply not motivated by a man-woman screaming at me and telling me I'm pathetic if I can't do 30 push-ups.  I just don't get off on negative re-enforcement. I already think I'm pathetic in this realm.  Thanks Julian, for confirming the obvious.  I'll be excited when this is over and I can re-join weight watchers and loose weight and maintain body image issues on my own terms.  Why I try to be something I'm not, only to become discouraged at failure, is beyond me. 
• It's finally sinking in that Michael is done (DUN) with grad school. It's great having him around and I'm getting quite used to his help and his desire to give me freedom after 6pm. I feel lucky to have a man who fathers because he loves his children.  It's not babysitting; it's parenthood. Also, he vacuums. And does laundry. And makes breakfast every morning. In these ways, he's a little like my father. Engaged. I adore him and am proud to be his wife. I wouldn't want anyone else to father these babies.
• Father's Day was slightly anti-climatic, except the ribs. Oh the ribs.  YUM.  We had a busy, wonderful weekend and for that I am happy but I felt slightly pathetic. I didn't even really get him a CARD. Oh well, we go on a date tonight and the family women got him and the guys Pirate tickets so the men can go watch the Pirate's loose (oops, I mean, win?).  That should be a good time.  (My contribution is the tailgate food & beer.  Any ideas?)
• Change is coming for the CityFlickers, folks. I can feel it in my bones.  There is movement happening all around us and while change is hard, it is also exciting. 
• I feel obligated to warn you, some interesting posts are coming your way. I had a friend tell me once that she no longer prescribes to any religion and at the time, I found it odd.  I find it less odd today than I did then.  I find it less odd today than I did a week ago.  Religion. Faith expressions. Morality. Right and wrong. Censorship. Self-imposed regulations. Comparison. Being loved outside of the institution. Systems. Winning favor. Church, oh CHURCH! ...Jerusalem, Oh JERUSALEM, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.  Enough said for now.
• Having a date night tonight. I'm very excited.
• It is hot as hades. I literally cannot go outside.  Neither the children nor I do well in the heat.  AC all the way, baby!

Have a good week.

Why Church People Suck; My Jesus Face

I’m talking about myself too, on some level. Because, we all do it. This thing – being fake by putting on the front we think people want to see, the face we think Jesus most adores.

I was part of a small group a few years back. And to be honest, I did not connect deeply or even LIKE many of the people I met. I always felt like a misfit, like if I really shared what I thought I’d be judged. Being on staff at the church made it worse. Church leadership is inherently isolating, but that topic is for another day.

Fast-forward a few years … I had my first baby and desperately needed to connect with other moms. I found myself reconnecting with a few people from that small group only this time, it wasn’t over sermon discussions or even intentionally faith-based. Instead, we bonded together over our new common link, motherhood. I quickly found that the pseudo-honest conversations we had partaken in from years past were leveled. Motherhood stripped away all pretenses. We were in this thing, together. Bonded over breast-milk and teething and sex with our husbands post-baby. Discussion points weren’t dictated by a sermon or administrated by a question-sheet. It was life, lived, together. These are some of my favorite people now.

Someone close to me went through a pretty awful lawsuit many years ago. Christian on Christian violence. The defendant of this suite was baffled. He had attended church with the plaintiff for a decade, knew him as an elder and spiritual leader and yet here he was, being sued by his old Christian mentor. In discussing the situation with a trusted Christian businessman, the defendant shared how blindsided he was by the discrepancy in the plaintiff’s outward lifestyle and supposed sense of morality when the truth of the matter was clearly, entirely different. The wise businessman, listening, asked if the defendant had ever WORKED with this person before going into business with him. In response, the defendant revealed that the only context in which he knew the plaintiff was in church. The wise man shook his head and said; that’s never enough. He began to share his experiences and instructed the defendant with this; you must work with someone – see how they really are, how they live life outside of church before you can trust the integrity of their character.

Character isn’t tested inside the temple. It is rare that within the confines of a worship service the intentions of the heart would be publically exposed.

We go to church to worship and be inspired in our faith journey but when it comes to growing together spiritually, it’s often, simply, shallow. Part of the inherent problem with trying to find friends based solely off of spiritual connection is, we’re all striving toward being somebody else. Jesus…or our perception of Him. There is therfore an element of striving to be higher than you really are involved in those connections. People struggle with being. As they are. As I am. We’re supposed to be transparent but without perfection, there is judgment implied.

We put on our Jesus Face. And sadly, none of us really look like Him anyway.

I’m not picking on anyone here. If it isn’t clear, please understand – I have my Jesus Face too. I can play church like the best of them. It takes concerted effort and an almost –I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK- attitude for me to just, BE. Me. Oh, I know others who do it better, whose masks are thicker and harder to crack. My point is, I think we ALL do it. We talk christianese at church and keep cuss words for the car ride home. We sip our special small group coffee and keep our wine and cigs behind closed doors. (Or outside, for when the kids go to bed. *ducks*)

I don’t fault the Church for this. Faith isn’t really the problem.

People are. You are. I am. Together, we can be crazy. And what I really mean is, FAKE AS HELL! This is why church people suck. When we get together, we change ourselves to be something and when we do that, it’s impossible to connect. Shallow water is good for very little.

Did Jesus find any of His closest friends at Temple? Did He go searching for a small group of like-minded individuals to be in his special network? No. He found people that were already living life – fishermen, a doctor, a tax accountant, etc. And some of these people were already doing life TOGETHER. He chose people who were un-churched and worldly. I’m willing to bet that one of the reasons He did this was because He knew they’d more easily follow and learn without all the church pretenses. They were not Pharisees; they were not church leaders. They did not have a Jesus Face. But they sure knew how to break bread together.

When it comes to really knowing people, we have to do life with each other. And that doesn’t mean an hour a week of prayer and sermon discussion. I think if it doesn’t go any deeper, it’s perpetuating the façade – the very thing that is turning 30-somethings away from Christianity by the droves.

People, we have to get the hell out of church and do a work project with our neighbors. Let's raise our babies with other parents. Have a beer and talk shop. Go grocery shopping and have a community barn-raising. What small groups do in five years, just 'doing the damn thing' of life does in 6 months. I think it’s foolish to believe real relationships are made in church. We are asking too much and expecting too little, unfairly.

Put away the Jesus Face. Because I’m pretty sure He sees your real face and thinks it’s, beautiful. I bet your friends will too.

Randoms (5)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part five.

• I just finished reading The Help. I pick up accents pretty easily. Not well, mind you – but easily. I have been talking like southern mammy for a few days. I’m pretty sure my children find this odd.
I’m amazed at how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time. People focus so much on how far we have to go with regard to equality for women and minorities but it was NOT that long ago that segregation and open legislated racism was part of the very fabric of this country. We are not perfect, and I don’t agree with everything Obama does or says but the fact that we HAVE a minority in office is revolutionary. It’s worth taking a moment to think about now and again.

• I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about roles. My role. Wife & mother but also my role with friends & family & work & church. It’s good to evaluate and reevaluate. I’m discovering a lot. About me. And in so doing, about other people.

• Selah discovered her knees this month and is trying to crawl. When she is mobile, I’m pretty sure life as I know it will be over. How in the WORLD will I be able to chase TWO children around the park? It’s hard enough chasing Nico when Selah is just sitting in the stroller.

• The newest thing with both my children is their interactions with one another. Selah sits in the back of the double stroller and pulls Nico’s hair now. He turns around and giggles and then tries to bat her head. These interactions happen all day long. It’s terrifying and endearing. I cannot wait for the day Selah is sturdy enough so that I can fully allow them to wrestle each other without fear she’ll be crushed. It’s good exercise and entertainment for both, having each other.  I'm glad we had them so close.

• I need to get intentional about exercise. It’s a matter of discipline. And I know it. And I’m avoiding it. My sister gave me Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred for my birthday. That was 25 days ago. I will start it June 1; I will! I’m thinking of doing a microblog on twitter (@cityflicker) documenting my 30-day journey; follow along at your own risk.

• This summer is getting quite booked, and it’s still MAY. How in the WORLD are we this busy? I feel like it’s going to be an interesting few months. There seems to be a stirring, movement; I have a sense of fluidity and current washing away all things old. A new adventure awaits and I’m excited.

• After almost four years at ACAC, I have resigned. More about that another time.

• Sunshine makes me happy. That is all.

I Don’t Believe In Censorship

I don’t believe in censorship. This is not an original thought but I just feel like I need to say that today. I believe in freedom; more so than almost anything else in the world. People were not meant to live in cages; boxes of thought with low ceilings of control.

I am not an avid reader. I enjoy books and I always have at least two I’m in the middle of but I would not consider myself a book worm. (What? With all the wine and good conversation to be had, I just can’t find the time. *rolls eyes*) Most of the books I enjoy have been recommendations from friends or my sister. Everything from Twilight to Hunger Games to Bossypants to The Shack to Harry Potter to Christ of the Covenants. My friends and acquaintances are, diverse. I trust them. Each one. And I have yet to be disappointed.

Can I just SAY this? Just because I enjoy a good story on vampire love, does not make me believe I AM one. And just because Harry uses magic, does not make me think his spells REALLY work. If a book alludes to a Catholic church scandal, it doesn’t make it historically accurate, true or credible. And just because a self-proclaimed guru on marketing tells me XYZ, doesn’t mean I implicitly believe it will work for ME, in MY realm. These are books. These are creative outlets to engage imagination, thought and at times, help us succeed.

Furthermore, and maybe even specifically, if a post-modern or post-post modern or future ancient or emergent *gasp* theologian depicts God as a woman or proposes the idea that hell is not real or tells me morality is relevant and that faith is more a discussion than a structure, does not mean I implicitly believe it. I have a brain. I have a world-view. I have the mother-fucking ability to discern truth from lies, opinion over fact, relevance over essentials.

I read Seth Godin, J.K. Rowling, Tina Fay, David Sedaris and Bethenny Frankel along with my Donald Miller, C.S. Lewis, William P. Young and yes, even Rob Bell. And I also, read and study the Bible. I have faith in its infallibility. I also believe in the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit – whose mission is to comfort me and point me toward Truth. So no thank you, but me and God got this. You can shut down every Library in a 50 mile radius, ban material, freak out about "secular" teachings that don't comply with your small-minded sense of fear and control, but I will still read. And write. And think.

Ever heard of Amazon.com, assholes!?

Randoms (4)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part four.

• My daughter is sleeping through the night. This is a milestone. And I’m not even talking about for her. Sure, she’s more content. And sleep begets sleep, so naps are more consistent too. We have an overwhelmingly happier family since we’ve all been sleeping. It feels like fresh air, like breathing again, like finding a gold mine.
• Speaking about gold, everything costs something. And the cost for a good night’s sleep in our home is $30 a container for formula. You pay for breastmilk too. Most breastfed babies wake up throughout the night, often until they are well past one. This doesn’t work for me. For us. Work, life & Nico’s energy level require entirely too much of me to be half-dead in the morning. And afternoon. And evening.
• Evenings have become really interesting here. Once the children are asleep, it’s Michael and I time. I’m still not used to it. I had an entire repertoire of activity, books and shows dedicated to entertaining me between 8 & 10. Then bed. Suddenly I have my husband back and I’m feeling a little odd about it. Like he’s infringing on my perfectly ordered (boring but predictable) agenda. I can’t image how military wives feel when their husband returns from war, after a few months or year + of single parenting. Seems impossible to adjust back to “normal.” Normal needs redefined.
• Days that I do not have a plan, are days I want to claw my eyes out by 5pm. But the crappy thing about raising kids in the city is that every activity requires an agenda and parental attention. There is no opening up the windows and doors and letting the kids come in and out from the back yard. Every outing requires a trip to the park or tickets to the museum or a pool pass or a walk/drive somewhere else to play. (Shoes, hats, sunscreen, double stroller, water and snacks packed for the kids. Sunglasses, keys, phone, bathroom trip and water bottle for me.) It’s starting to feel quite excessive. And yet I really do love my house and my neighbors. Everything costs something, and I’m not sure I’m yet willing to trade in relationships I’ve made here in the city for a fence and a yard and room to spread out. But I am darn sick of the 25 minute charade just to get out of the house for an hour or two, only to have to return because someone pooped their pants or needs to nap or wants something I forgot to trek along with us in our boat. (I mean, double stroller.)
• If we stay in this house, in the city, we need to finish our basement into a playroom, equipped with monkey bars and padded walls. Twenty-month old boys are NO JOKE! I can’t even begin to list the naughty, crazy, dangerous, insane things Nico has done, climbed, threw, jumped off of, spilled, sat on and ruined in the past month alone. I’m considering daycare chaos in the fall just so he has something to exhaust his energy and mischief.

Nico just dumped 20 oz of water on my phone.

 

Signing out.

When Did ‘Judge’ Become The New ‘F-Word’?

What is the point of political correctness? So that we can pretend our decisions and therefore our relationships are copasetic? So that people aren’t offended? To protect our fragile sense of security?

Time and again I hear people making disclaimers about lifestyle choices (work ethic, political affiliation, stance on this issue or that, parenting styles) beginning with the phrase, I’m not judging you but we do X, Y, Z. If I’ve heard it once (today), I’ve heard it a thousand times. To judge others is mean and wrong and politically incorrect.

But is it such a bad thing to judge? Aren’t we (really!) judging anyway?

Is it necessary to begin every thought and opinion with a disclaimer? Does a pre-qualification of non-judgment REALLY and truly delude the weight of decisions or opinions enough to convince our friends we aren’t judging their different or even opposing views?

Here’s the truth. We judge every single day. And it’s often a good thing.

Clearly if I choose THIS method over THAT method, I’ve made a judgment call. For me and my family, I choose things every single day. Do the jellybeans need me to tell them, Sorry, no judgment. But Nico needs some fresh fruit instead. And if the jellybeans don’t need coddled, why do we?

Yes, I know there is a difference between judging someone and making a judgment call. But it’s a pretty thin line. In fact, in some cases, it’s really just a fake line.

If I hear someone say, I’m using Growing Kids God’s Way (GKGW: curriculum/methodology of discipline and parenting) and I manage to kindly respond, Oh, no judgment but we don’t do that, does that mean I have not judged? Maybe better people than I exist in the world (doubtful, ha!), but I would likely (want to) back away slowly with a look of shocked horror mixed with pity for the child involved if I heard that come out of a mothers mouth. Even if I could muster a gracious response outwardly, in my heart I’m still judging. Why? Because I think GKGW is psychotic and damaging – emotionally and spiritually and physically if used in extremes.

Now, before you go berating me (in your head naturally, so not be labeled judgmental), think about something you do or believe in that you are passionate about. Your political affiliation? Your religion? Babywise? Attachment Parenting? Co-sleeping?? And tell me that in your HEART (regardless of how well you think you HIDE your heart and opinion) you don’t secretly or not so secretly judge the opposing view!

We all do it. We can pretend this giant melting pot has tremendous positive effects on how we engage diversity (not talking race here), but I kinda think it’s a farce. I’m calling the bluff.

In my Moms Club, we have one rule: No judgment. And I guess I’m wondering lately, what that means? Does it mean that to someone’s FACE I shouldn’t scoff at their method? Are we really suggesting that, when it comes to methodology, theology, parenting styles, whatever, we should not judge, and therefore have no strong preference? Are we really saying, in life, that you can believe X and I can believe A and it’s all okay? You can be right and I can be right?

WRONG!

It’s annoyingly small-minded of us to live in this kind of avoidance. If you are a democrat and I am a republican, I CLEARLY think you are wrong. Because I CLEARLY think I am right. If you are Christian and I am Muslim, I clearly think you are wrong. If you co-sleep and I babywise, well, that’s almost a bigger judging blood bath than the Crusades.

But what’s the answer? Silence? Only hang with like-minded people? I don’t know. The only solution I see, really, if we want to be genuine, honest, straight-shooters, living in a hodge-podge melting pot of ideas and thoughts and opinions and life-choices is to fake it or argue it out. Learn to appreciate the person OVER the issue, all the while admitting openly and to each other – that in THIS or THAT, we agree to DISAGREE.

I’m guess I’m just suggesting, let’s not placate one another. Let’s not lie to ourselves and our friends with the illusion that judgment isn’t a big part of relational dynamics. I know you’re judging anyway. And I, I admit it. I judge you too.

My 32nd Birthday

Today is my birthday. I’m double, sixteen. And with sixteen in mind, I’m so glad for the things I’ve learned, experienced and have grown in over the past years. I’m not the kind of person who wishes for high school again.

I don’t have a litany of thoughts or feelings concerning this birthday. It wasn’t until last night that I even gave it a single second of thought. Mostly because babies and family and Michael’s birthday and graduation from grad school have been all-consuming. A separate post will be coming on all that – we made it! Hallelujah.

But also, 32 isn’t anything grand. There is no stirring for major change or conviction to walk a different path. I guess I feel like it’s just another day, as days go. One step in front of the other. Keep walking. The sprint is behind me, and also forthcoming. But right now, I keep on keeping on.

And so I shall. With great anticipation. I will keep on keeping on in a new year of life; married to a new graduate, mother, employee, friend, coordinator, planner, writer, Christian, thinker, woman. And I stay open – to all that God has for me, for my family. In the end, that’s all I can do.

Stay open. Roll with the motions, make decisions in the present, embrace change when it comes, forgive, relate, wake up every morning with intention and purpose. Plan adventures and order my days. Make it count.

Cheers then! To making it count. 32; I think I’m going to love you.

Some things are defining just by being faithful in the little.

Randoms (3)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part three.




• It's the warmest spring I've ever lived in, in Pittsburgh at least. I love it. But I'm secretly afraid of swarms of stink bugs and other crawly things that didn't die off over our warm winter. And also, I'm terrified it'll be over 100 degree every day in July and August. I guess we shall see!



• I hate fashion. And what I really mean is, why is fashion created for size 2 female figures when less than 5% of our population is a size 2? It makes me mad. And not in the, let's fight body image issues kind of way. I hate it because I can't wear anything super cool and trendy. Not only are the clothes designed for, well, NOT my body but I'm just the kind of person that is always missing something that completes a trendy outfit. I annoy myself. And so I shop at Old Navy and get 10 versions of the same shirt, basic colors, a few pants/shorts/skirts and call it a day. I don't know how else to shop. Shopping drives me insane.



• Michael told me to use our tax return for a new wardrobe. AS IF! I can think of 1,000 things I'd prefer over clothes. Like: Nico needs a booster chair, and a potty, and a puppy if I'm really honest. Selah doesn't need anything but I'm pretty sure she wants her teeth to come in. And I want my house painted and new courtyard furniture, and an endless supply of K-cups, and a pedicure. And a vacation. And a fully stocked bar at home.



• We never stock liquor in the house. And it's not because we have some issue with cocktails but I guess, it's sort of like an investment. And we don't have a "bar" to PUT the liquor should we fully stock. But I've been CRAVING spicy Bloody Mary's and Champaign and Dirty Martini's. After listening to my cocktail cravings for the 1ooth time, Michael brought home some vodka last week. It's been sitting in my freezer since, unopened.



• I'm just like that. I often want what I don't/can't/shouldn't have. Once I get it, I don't want it anymore. It's like why I don't eat more than one cookie after I've made them. I get over things pretty fast.



• So does Nico. He's always on to the next thing. Monday, he couldn't climb these sideways bars up to the second tier of the playground. Wednesday, he could. And now he's onto some other challenging adventure. I see myself in him; the self I was before "stuff" happened to change me into a slightly jaded, skeptical, boundary-conscience adult. He's a mighty man. Friendly, engaged in the world around him, goal oriented, physical, demanding but more laid back than I'd have expected. In his core, I believe he has a tremendous love for ALL people. He is inherently trusting. It scares me sometimes. Nico has captured my heart and inspires me to openness.



• And then there is Selah. For starters, she looks exactly like my mother. She loves music. She is loud and can project! And she adores me. ADORES ME. I am her world. And I don't think it's just that I give her milk the way she likes it (from the breast). Selah is specific about who she wants to be around. She only responds well to some people. She is an absolute joy and smiles 95% of the time but 5% of the time, LOOK OUT WORLD. The girl has a temper. And very few people can talk her off that ledge. She's fiery. She likes to be around people but she will only engage (smile, coo, play) a few. She is critical about it. She demands undivided attention and when she makes eye contact, you cannot look away. She is a thinker. In these ways, she is like Michael. She is stunning. I'm kind of amazed by her. She teaches me to be in the moment, fully in the moment.



• Michael has, dun dun dun, 25 days of grad school left. He takes his last final, on his birthday, April 17th. He has applied to jobs in Arizona, KS, MN, Washington state, CA, VI, GA, FL, NJ, Philly, Pittsburgh, WV and Kentucky. But mostly in DC. The job market sucks and it often feels like his applications are just lost in space, but we continue to hope for THAT job - the one we feel God has for him, in His perfect timing. We trust that He will "make a way for us in the desert and streams in the wasteland" (IS. 43:19). We remain open to wherever, but I'm getting restless in the wait. It's hard to plan and invest when a transplant and move is likely eminent.



• If we stay in Pittsburgh, I'm getting a pool pass this year. And getting painters for my house. And will bite the bullet and start researching pre-schools in the city. And, Michael and I are going to get away in the fall. Just us. We need it.



• When I look back over the past three and a half years, I'm in shock. I got married, had a miscarriage, got pregnant again, bought a house, had a baby, got pregnant 3 months later, had another baby, helped put Michael through grad school, worked, lost friends, gained friends, changed. I feel like at my very core, I'm a different person. My DNA is different. There is no going back.



• Onward and upward...

Signing Out.

I Think Therefore I Am: The Power of Will

Michael and I had friends over a month or so ago. We love conversation with this couple because they are smart and observant, and they enjoy a decent debate. They have a foundation of faith and an intelligent worldview that we find true comradery in. Somewhere in that time we were discussing will power - the ability to choose differently. Our friend pointed out that he really believes that “will” is a gift, that some people have more will power than others. He explained that it isn’t right or fair to measure others by our own abilities.

The concept surprised me. And I’ve thought about it frequently.

I’ve never considered myself someone who has a ton of will-power. But I have often explained much of my character around the concept of a strong-will. For some reason, because I haven’t always behaved in measured, calculated, or restrained ways, I’ve considered myself weak-willed with regard to consumption, as one example. I’m starting to realize that it was not by accident that I behaved (sometimes still behave) in unrestrained ways; it is choice. I don’t always WANT to be measured and controlled. I “will” my actions, even the unruly ones. I believe that this is how I’ve partaken in a lot of behaviors and never developed a full-blown addiction. I’m starting to realize that I am both strong-willed and have will-power. And, since this has not always been a concerted effort to “think, therefore I am,” I do believe I have been given a supernatural will. A gift, if you will? (pun intended)

January 2nd I started Weight Watchers. I’ve lost 25 points. It’s a matter of will. I run into a lot of people who say they want to diet. Most don’t actually follow through. It’s been something I’ve wondered about. And maybe even secretly judged. Just do it! See the results and keep up the effort. If I can do it, you can do it. I’m starting to realize that, maybe, this is an unfair judgment call.

But food IS something I have struggled with. And if I have ever teetered on the edge OF an addiction, it’s been with food. Sure, I’ve binged on alcohol, tobacco, TV shows, etc… but mostly socially and for small amounts of time, never without conviction. But food? Well, that’s something that has unclear boundaries. How much is too much? Eating for comfort – don’t we all do that? At what point do we cross over from enjoying sustenance to becoming gluttons? Unlike alcohol (when exactly do we become “drunk?"), there isn’t an immediate physical manifestation of our gluttony. It’s only over time that our gluttony manifests itself in cellulite and larger pant sizes. We all have to eat. But what we eat and how much we eat is a matter of knowing yourself. And in the end, it's a matter of will.

Despite my strong will, there are certain items I do not purchase. (And I never grocery shop hungry.) Potato chips. Little Debbie Oatmeal Cakes. Dannon yogurt. Icecream (unless pregnant!) And even though I know how disgusting it is, I do not go through the McDonalds drive thru, even for a soda, because I really struggle with french fries and Big Macs. When I’m trying to be weight conscious, I don’t go near these items. I can’t. I WILL myself to refrain, so not to test my will-power, or lack thereof.

Will-power and a strong-will are not the same, but they are very close cousins. And when used together, a person (or vision/purpose/desire) is virtually unstoppable. It’s like when your head and heart are in unity. It’s why love begins, and ends, with choice. There is profound power in will.

I am going to stop identifying myself as someone who doesn’t have will-power. Clearly I do. Clearly, I am capable of willing myself into smaller pant sizes, moderate food consumption, and so on. And because I know I can do that, I can change my tone. I have the power, given by God, to choose joy over drudgery. I can forgive, if I really WANT to. If I think, therefore I am (or at least on the path toward that evolution/sanctification), I am going to start thinking:

I want the mind of Christ.
I want to wear a bikini.
I want my words to be seasoned with grace and kindness and joy, along with discipline, intellect and truth

I am going to stop identifying my strong-will as a negative quality and start embracing the beauty, discipline, and power that this gift has. And if I see this quality in my children, I pray for the wisdom not to break their will, but cultivate and guide it toward rightness. I feel free now. I choose. I WILL. And I WILL continue.

Painting Appoval

I cried a fountain of tears in worship yesterday as song after song spoke of God being THEE HIGHEST - the highest authority, the ultimate reason, One who is WORTHY of my heart and my thoughts and my worship. As I let the majestic praises of His people resound in my head and heart, I came face to face with my immaturity and neediness. Why in the face of a holy God would I base so much of my worth on the approval of others? Why do I need certain mere humans to give me praise when He, who has the ultimate authority, is the only one who has a heaven or a hell to put me in?

Becoming a mother was a bit shocking, for me at least. I always wanted children and had spent tons of time with kids, but for all of my want and experience, I started my mommyhood journey extremely insecure. I read books and took advice that just wasn’t ME, wasn’t Nico, and wasn’t Michael. So at every failed attempt to adapt to other people’s advice and parenting styles, I felt like a failure. Add in some post-partum depression and very little positive support and you have one. insecure. mother.

I wasn’t whole after I had Nico; not in the parenting sense at least. I’d been living in the tension of insecurity and allowed waves of self-doubt and tremendous fear to bleed my natural instincts as mother. For someone who has been a strong and self-assured, confident woman – the self-doubt in this area came like a thief in the night. The people I wanted the most approval and encouragement from, ended up somehow being the most negative. Those I planned to count on the most just didn’t pan out.

In the ashes and absence of positive, soul-giving support, God in all of His knowledge and grace gave me beautiful “fillers,” friends and neighbors to walk though these hard, early-parenting years with. These mothers have been refreshing and positive; affirming. Like earth and air, teaching me to trust myself – just by affirming my choices and my children. They gave and are still giving me permission to paint motherhood with my own colors; not the colors of my family and history or even in the shades of expectation.

But even in the blessing of these wonderful friends, I’ve craved more. Do we ever really outgrow our need for parental approval? Probably not. But I realize more and more, that marriage and babies should separate you, even further at times, than you would expect or even want. At some point, it’s vital to look at your spouse and determine, to do it your own way. At all costs. To carve out a path that is the best for how you feel called to live and love and grow as a nuclear family.

We don’t stand before God one day accountable for anybody but ourselves. With that eternal mindset, like the one I felt washed in on Sunday, I realize this simple truth: God’s approval is the only one that matters. Living life in the darkened shadow of how everyone else lives, under the choices of others, painting a picture in used-up shades of brown is just, ugly. This isn’t what I was created for…to live reacting to every critical comment, to be tossed back and forth by every opposing parenting style, to look for approval from people I’m not convinced I even want to even emulate anyway. I wasn’t born to color in lines carved out by others so why would I raise my children trying to do so?

Under the cross of Christ, I am free. Poured out and open, living to please and paint for One.

I was challenged Sunday to get my eyes off of everybody else and put them back on God. To live like Jesus is to live for the approval of The Father. In that emulation of God, no comment or question or opinion or idea can steal my joy, question my capabilities, undermine my authority or disrespect my style. Jesus was compassionate but He was also courageous because He knew He was living right, with the approval of Abba. If I’m going to set boundaries with the disapproving and die on a hill defending any choice, I want to make damn sure it’s a choice I believe in, in submission to Christ. Rejection matters less when I have assurance that I am walking, painting, living, and loving like the Savior modeled and called me to live. This is what the cross ensures; that when I stand in its shadow I can paint in the palette of freedom, covered in acceptance, love and approval.

Today I begin to paint for an audience of One.

Ugly Boxes of Precedent

I’m struggling with “precedent” lately. Things that have been demonstrated again and again, over time, can quickly become the norm regardless of how abnormal it REALLY is. Labels, identity, expectations – the very essence of how we engage ourselves and others is often built upon the foundation of Precedent. Here are three ugly ones I am struggling to overcome.

1. Ever since I can remember, there was a lingering precedent that I am “invalid” – that I am a troublemaking, exaggerative, dramatic, not-to-be-taken-seriously girl. Some of that was merited, especially as a young teen, but it’s left me truly believing at times that I shouldn’t expect to be taken seriously. I rarely even demand it anymore. It’s hard to shake labels when even those closest to you disbelieve you and disregard your thoughts, ideas, and opinions. I used to think, if I get married and have babies, I’ll be taken seriously. And then when that proved to be bunk, if I have a natural birth and breastfeed perfectly, I’ll be supermom and gain some respect. Not so. And now, I find myself sometimes thinking, if I make a lot of money (aka, had a real “career" vs. working in a church) – maybe then I'll change Precedent. Obviously a pipe dream.

2. Since I’ve had children, I’ve had these amazing women offer to babysit on occasion from church. They want to hang out with my kids! But I struggle to BELIEVE them. Because Precedent in my family structure communicates a.) that kids are an annoying obligation b.) that babysitting is laborious c.) that watching children isn’t something the generation ahead of me SHOULD EVER HAVE to do. Michael and I hardly ever go out together because of this and I find myself aching for time with my husband outside of diapers and bedtime. Despite the offers from kind hearts, Precedent dictates and I am often left isolated, fending for myself.

3. I also have this notion that lots and lots of men, especially over 65, are child molesters because Precedent says, Older men can’t be trusted. Older men who take an interest in babies and children are f*ed up in the head. I suspected this overreaching fear would come up more so as Selah grew up a little, but after the 20,000th Catholic Priest incident hit the news and the recent Penn State scandal, I’ve been more and more alerted with regard to Nico. Just the other day at the park, this guy kept getting closer and closer to Nico with his dog. Like, enticing him because Nico LOVES puppies. He was a pretty nice guy who lives in the neighborhood but the questions crossed my mind; is he trying to win Nico’s favor? Why is he getting so close? I mean, I was WITH a friend and her toddler. I guarantee she thought nothing of this guy. But I did. He creeped me out a little. As someone with sexual abuse in my past, Precedent calls for the distrust of most men.

I’ve overcome a lot of labels in my life, so I know the battle that lies ahead of me. I know setting boundaries is difficult, especially when they’ve been walked over enough times to call my heart a crosswalk. There are elements here in these three paragraphs that I’ve grown to believe about myself and others that are just plain unhealthy. And wrong. Knowledge is power, but it’s hard to get out of boxes when it’s all you’ve really known. It’s hard to set new standards, when life lessons have taught you otherwise. It’s quite shocking to truly embrace God’s identity; how HE says life should work and how relationships should be structured when so many experiences say otherwise.

Part of the beautiful challenge of 'engaged parenting' is not letting negative precedents get recycled; dealing with my shit before my shit deals with me and affects my children. It’s a MAD DASH to work on ME, when suddenly the focus is about cultivating these two little hearts and minds to know God’s love and purposes for their lives.

I keep layering my negative experiences overtop of life. Instead, I need to layer Truth – the affirmations Scripture declares – over the shit people say or have done or are still doing that contradict true love, real grace, and relentless hope. I can’t win favor by trying to be someone else. I can’t say I want community, but distrust the motives of every single person. I can’t go around thinking every 65 year old man is a molester. I want to LISTEN to my God-given instincts, not those dictated by Precedent. I want to be safe. Safe over sorry. But not paranoid. I want to live in balance. I want to get out of these boxes. And I want to live life to the fullest. For me. For these babies. For my God.

But right now, as these issues show their ugly faces, I admit - I don’t know where to start. I don't know what boundaries to set and how that plays out in real life (vs. the written one). But something I do know; I have to be the one who changes. I can't expect anyone else to. I can't salvage unhealthy relationships if the 'other side' is unwilling to change.

With God's grace and His constant, vigilant desire to see me free.; I will overcome. I will get out.

I Get Out by Lauren Hill:
I get out, I get out of all your boxesI get out, you can't hold me in these chainsI'll get outFather free me from this bondageKnowin' my conditionIs the reason I must change[Verse 1]Your stinkin' resolutionIs no type of solutionPreventin' me from freedomMaintainin' your pollutionI won't support your lie no moreI won't even try no moreIf I have to die, oh LordThat's how I choose to liveI won't be compromised no moreI can't be victimised no moreI just don't sympathize no moreCause now I understandYou just wanna use meYou say "love" then abuse meYou never thought you'd loose meBut how quickly we forgetThat nothin' is for certainYou thought I'd stay here hurtin'Your guilt trip's just not workin'Repressin' me to deathCause now I'm choosin' life, yoI take the sacrifice, yoIf everything must go, then goThat's how I choose to live[Pause][Singing rest of Verse 1]That's how I choose to live...Hehehehe, awhhNo more compromisesI see past your disguisesBlindin' through mind controlStealin' my eternal soulAppealin' through materialTo keep me as your slave[Singing Chorus]But I get outOh, I get out of all your boxesI get outOh, you can't hold me in these chainsI'll get outOh, I want out of social bondageKnowin' my conditionOh, is the reason I must change[Singing Verse 2]See, what you see is what you getOh, and you ain't seen nothin' yetOh, I don't care if you're upsetI could care less if you're upsetSee it don't change the truthAnd your hurt feeling's no excuseTo keep me in this boxPsychological locksRepressin' true expressionCementin' this repressionPromotin' mass deceptionSo that no one can be healedI don't respect your systemI won't protect your systemWhen you talk I don't listenOh, let my Father's will be done[Singing Chorus]And just get outOh, just get out of all these bondageJust get outOh, you can't hold me in chainsJust get outAll these traditions killin' freedomKnowin' my conditionIs the reason I must change[Singing Verse 3]I've just accepted what you saidKeepin' me among the deadThe only way to knowIs to walk then learn and growBut faith is not your speedOh, you've had everyone believedThat you're the sole authorityJust follow the majorityAfraid to face realityThe system is a jokeOh, you'd be smart to save your soulOh, when escape is mind controlYou spent your life in sacrificeTo a system for the deadOh, are you sure...Where is the passion in this livingAre you sure it's God you servin'Obligated to a systemGetting less then you're deservingWho made up these schools, I sayWho made up these rules, I sayAnimal conditioningOh, just to keep us as a slave[Singing Chorus]Oh, just get outOf this social purgatoryJust get outAll these traditions are a lieJust get outSuperstition killing freedomKnowin' my conditionIs the reason I must dieJust get outJust get outJust get outLet's get outLet's get outKnowin' my conditionIs the reason I must dieJust get out