Randoms (2)

I have to just 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 two.

• I have two children. I know, I'm stating the obvious but sometimes it really hits me. I'm a MOM! Of two KIDS. Suddenly I blinked and gave birth to two humans and now I'm in the throws of parenting. I feel old, like I've lived a thousand years. I'm just THAT tired. But sometimes I feel really, really young. Like it should still be 1995 and I should still be at Allard Park as a 15 year old, getting high behind the monkey bars and giggling on the swings while listening to Candlebox. The adjustment is still quite shocking. I'm still getting used to being MARRIED!



• Someone recently encouraged me to just dig my heals in and go with my decision on a certain subject and it struck me as really, really odd. As an analytical person, I can't imagine digging my heals into any idea or behavior or choice. I have found that it's just when I do that very thing that the bottom drops and I'm left whirling and confused. Or regretting my proclamation and subscription to the idea. I've discovered a few things in life that are sure to happen; number one - things change! I think every season and personal choice should come with introspection and analyzation. It's unhealthy for people to skip emotional, spiritual or practical inventory. I want to be someone who evolves and rolls with the changes, not a person stuck in my own pride-filled-heel-digs. Life is too short not to be a little fluid.



• Speaking of fluid; Selah is now taking a bottle. I find this remarkable because her new babysitter taught her in just one day. It's literally miraculous because we were all praying. Yes, it was THAT big of a deal to us. And then Selah just DID IT! God and her babysitter...miracle workers!



• Selah is also rolling now. All over the place. Well, only really from her back to her tummy and then getting stuck. It's quite cute. My sister reminded me that from here on out, it's pretty much: roll, sit, eat, crawl, walk *BLINK* one year old birthday party! Sometimes (late at night, early in the morning when I'm tired and sick of breastfeeding) I wish her baby days away. I wish for a sleep-through-the-night, off-the-boob, somewhat-independent daughter. But I am reminded that these days really, really do go so fast. And it's not like the toddler days are EASY. *sigh* With every stage comes blessing and hardship.



• Nico is a wild man. He wants to wrestle everyone (sister included). He wants to climb and jump and fall and hit and throw. When Michael is gone all day and all night (work and school), I try to get down on the ground and "play" with him. I usually get up in three minutes with some injury. My role is not daddy. Clearly, he needs man-time already!



• I was watching You've Got Mail for the 1,000 time recently and was HIT OVER THE HEAD with Meg Ryan's character asking her boyfriend about her role as a children's bookstore owner. She asked, "I mean, what IS it that I DO exactly? All I REALLY DO is run a book story." It's been resonating with me ever since, bouncing around my thoughts and hitting me over the head on occasion with regard to my work. What is it that I DO exactly? I manage little projects and coordinate the right people to accomplish tasks. I delegate and get projects complete. I manage social media sites and link people together. Yes. But what is that I DO that is unique and challenging and marketable? Not a whole hell of a lot, really. I've been feeling extremely replaceable lately. Like I should probably step down and let someone with REAL skills do my job - someone who can ALSO technically manage things like websites and digital signage and wires and techy stuff that hurts my head just thinking about. I have vision but lack pretty much every skill set required to implement. So what is is that I DO exactly? *sigh*



• I auditioned for a play/musical for Lent a few weeks ago with the Sewickley Choir Institute. I got casted in a decent role too. And then I realized, there was NO way I could make all those rehearsals and 13 performances with a baby on the boob, a husband in grad school, a house, a job and a marriage. I had to back out and it broke my heart a little bit. I MISS the escape of acting. And singing. I've never been the greatest at these crafts but I enjoy them very much. It occurred to me that in this season of life, my needs really do come last. I say this not as a martyr but as someone facing the reality of my life. For the next few months, our priorities are ranked in such a way that me finding outlet in theater is almost absurd. This is hard for me. I'm not naturally selfless. (ha!)



• The more I read about the FDA and the food industry in America the more I want to own a farm, make my own food, slaughter my own animals, plant my own veggies, grow my own fruit, grind my own flour...live off the land. And this coming from a person who isn't extremely always-organic or must-be-grass-fed and who has never done a day of farm work in her life. I'm nervous about the world my children are growing up in, food-wise. Let alone otherwise. I know every parent feels this way throughout every generation so I take my fear with a few grains of salt but yes, I fear a movement of elitism in this country where only the wealthy can afford to purchase food that is safe and healthy. People 1) without land and 2) with limited resources will be left to test their fate with the already emerging "maybe this is safe" food authorized by the FDA, who is financed by a government that is owned by China. *drops it*



• Seseme Street is just. plain. weird. Was it always so, so creepy?

Signing Out,
(because my son just took off his diaper and peed on the floor. *sigh)

It Seemed Good to the Holy Spirit and To Us...

(Acts 15:28a)

I love the word "seemed" in this passage because to me, it shows that even the Apostles who lived in the same generation as Jesus, had difficulty discerning some “earthly” matters. The decision they made here set the holy Church in motion and elements of their logic and reliance on the Holy Spirit effect us and how the church “does business” today.

Sometimes in Christendom we shun the concept of "seemed." We try to make everything black and white, this or that, sin or a fruit of the spirit. But sometimes, life sits squarely in between - and there isn't a ton of clarity (biblical or otherwise) to support one idea from another.

But there sure are a lot of opinions!

By choice, I am involved in some pretty heated blog discussions concerning parenting. Breast feed or formula? Coddle or cry it out methods? Birth Control or not? Stay at home full-time or work full-time or does God prefer mom's work part-time? What does Jesus say to us through his Holy Scriptures?

I say this as someone who has had a little biblical training in exegetical study. …Not a whole hell of a lot.

My husband and I are blessed beyond measure with two beautiful and healthy children. We have been pregnant 3 times and I say this sensitively but honestly, we got pregnant every single time we tried, on the first try. We are fertile.

We are also good parents who battle every day to stay in the moment and enjoy these quickly-passing memories; but sometimes we struggle. We've lost most of our freedom and see very little end in sight concerning diapers and feedings and dear God, don't even get me started on the lack of sleep! We do want more children, but we can't imagine getting pregnant RIGHT NOW!

NOW, in Michael's last and most difficult semester of grad school. NOW, when I'm just starting to lose the baby weight (from baby #1 that I never lost before getting pregnant again). NOW, when we may be moving in a few months for a job offer, very little fish in the big pond of D.C. (tadpoles, really.)

It seemed good to us therefore, to go on birth control a few months ago! And so we did.

But did you catch that?

I didn't say it seemed good to the Holy Spirit AND to us. Because we never ASKED. We did not pray. We just did what SEEMED right to us.

Herein lies the danger that Christians are so prone toward. When faced with not knowing and not being sure how to make the best decision between our own logic and the parameters of our faith, we often clamber toward extremes. We do one or the other. We either do our own thing, what SEEMS right by our logic OR we over-spiritualize everything and expect the Bible to say word-for-word how we are to live, thousands of years after the fact.

Michael and I saw our error a few nights ago and decided to make it point of prayer concerning birth control and trusting God and all these questions my friend just posed on this blog. That, and if I should keep working or stay home full-time (because we forgot to include the Holy Spirit in that as well).

I’m reminded in this, that the whole POINT of following Jesus is having communion with Him. Relationship. That takes place through the indwelling Holy Spirit, in prayer and in reading the Scriptures. The spiritual disciplines exist so we KNOW Him and are better able to know what SEEMS right by Him and our logic when all these "in between this and that" decisions pop up.

In all of my searching for answers, in debate and stimulating conversation lately, I need to remember 1) not all answers are found in Scripture. 2) not all answers are found through human logic. 3) most answers are found through Scripture, prayer (seeking what SEEMS right by the Holy Spirit) AND human logic.

I'll keep you posted...on what seems good to the Holy Spirit and to us. Stay tuned.

Miscarriage. When There Isn't A Grave...

It was the saddest day of my life. You cannot ever prepare yourself for the heart-gasping sadness of a miscarriage. Michael and I were married less than a year but had just begun trying to get pregnant. We were extremely excited for the arrival of this baby and had just told our family and close friends. At 10 weeks, we lost him. And although we barely had opportunity to dream and plan our lives with him, something about his short life changed us.

I just read this article about the Duggars miscarriage and was appalled that there was negative feedback concerning how they chose to grieve their loss. I'm certain those who so arrogantly feel they can comment in disrespect have not experienced the pain of a miscarriage or still-born baby. Everyone should have the right to honor their sadness in whatever way they choose. Unfortunately, we live in a culture that is extremely narrow-minded about grief.

I discovered something very tragic and heart-breaking, hypocritical and mean about people as I grieved our loss. People don't put their money where their mouth is. Evangelicals who are staunch pro-lifers, would not allow me the same time-off as policy gave those who "lost a child." The space and comfort needed to be sad was rarely granted. I guess when there isn't a specific framework for a certain kind of loss, time to heal isn't necessary. I guess, when it comes to days off, life doesn't really begin at conception.

After many months, with the help of counseling and, let's be honest, the pregnancy of Nico (2 months post-miscarriage), I now realize this is one of those situations that is neither one thing or another. Meaning, a first or second trimester baby isn't considered a baby, medically. It can't live outside of the mother and so it's considered a fetus: tissue and organs and a beating heart. To grieve it like the loss of a child therefore, in this culture, seems dramatic and attention-seeking.

But for those of us who believe differently, that the life of a baby begins at conception, we need to find ways to bring honor to death. And that's the challenge. Because for us, he was more than tissue and organs and a beating heart. He was our son. A dream. A hope. Something and someone to be honored. Without a "funeral" or a body to cremate or bury, how is that grief made tangible, justifiable, excusable? Even people who believe like us, that his life mattered, didn't know how to process this, how to honor baby and parents.

In the end, I wrapped his tiny bloody cocoon-covered body in tissue and Michael planted him under our weeping cherry tree. It seemed appropriate to us - a weeping, living home to honor what he could have been...happy, growing, thriving, beautiful.

As a mother of two children, I can appreciate the difference between the baby I miscarried and the lives of my two living babies, like, the older my children are, the more love I have for them. I feel like my heart grows with my children. But I fail to see how the grief of my tiny baby is somehow less valid, because I grieved it less than I would grieve the (God-forbid) loss of one of my living children.

I guess I just want to say, there should be more "room" in this society to grieve this kind of loss; the kind ceremonies and graves can't mark. After all, a divorce, an irreconcilable difference that divides friends, a miscarriage... these have elements of death, some more than others. Because something is gone, forever, that could have been.

I'm sorry for the Duggers. And I'm sad for me, for us. I'm sorry for the many, many parents who have miscarried and I pray they find comfort in whatever means seems right to them, to honor their loss and their broken hope. I pray we as a society begin to allow the expression of pain (in friendship and in policy), even when there isn't a grave.

I Don't Believe in Proselytizing

Does that make me a bad evangelical? Truth be told, I struggle with the concept of standard "missions" - you know, the kind that goes into the jungle and tries to convert hungry, disease-ridden natives and then quickly forces that culture to comply with whatever nuance the missionary adheres to. (Often a western-culture Christian mindset that prescribes long skirts and a covering of the breasts, with an anti-polygamy, slightly sexist, and overly legalistic view on faith., etc...) I think a lot of people struggle with that. I'm glad to be part of a church organization that brings something of substance and USE to people all over the world, along with the good news of Jesus. Because the reality is, if you're hungry, you'll say anything to get some bread. If you're sick, you'll pray to any god for healing. If you're suffering, you'll ask any Deity for comfort. Missionaries who bring words, but no useful earthly service are, rather ironically, useless. Foreign missions by way of medical aid, education and clean water ALONG with the message of Hope, is Truth manifested in flesh. This is effective Jesus work.

But most of us aren’t going to travel overseas to live. Most of us aren’t “called” to be missionaries. So what does that mean for us? What about my friends and neighbors here in the States who don't believe in Jesus (the same way I do.) Conservatives all over the world would say it's my job to also save them, to quote Scripture at them and plead that they accept the Lord lest they burn in hell for eternity. After all, that's how I got "saved,” (running to the alter time and time again, knowing, just KNOWING if I died in a car accident on my way home I likely didn't have assurance of salvation. ...For those who aren't "churched," this is otherwise known as a standard alter-call.)

I don't know. This may sound like a total cop-out but, I don't think I have an evangelistic "call." I simply don't believe in proselytizing in Western society, with our Christian branding and well-financed "biblical" marketing. If someone doesn't know or believe in Jesus, they quite clearly don't WANT to. My 'witness' - by way of offensive facebook posts, Scripture quoting, door to door 'sales,' and blasting K-Love Christian radio from my car in order to convert people - is just annoying. Nothing more and nothing less.

Don't misunderstand. I believe in the saving power of Jesus Christ. I believe in the Holy Spirit; the holy catholic church; the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting. (Apostles Creed) This means, YES, I DO BELIEVE in a REAL heaven and a REAL hell. And I do believe the Scriptures are inerrant, God-breathed. So how then do I NOT believe in proselytizing? Doesn't the Bible command followers of Jesus to GO, SHARE, CONVERT?

Well, maybe. Sort of. I'm not SURE that directive was and is for everyone. But one thing I AM certain about is that 'The Great Commission' isn't a mandate to be an asshole. I sort of think this; people want to be known by friends. People trust their friends and being a friend means loving and appreciating and understanding one another. And I'm pretty sure, for the majority of us Christians, friendship is the only context in which faith-sharing should be done and is most effective.

People already HAVE the information. What's missing is the heart and relationship of it all. Jesus didn't go around talking a big game. Or quoting the Scriptures all day. In fact, He mostly only quoted Scripture to antagonize and discredit the hypocritical church-folk, the Pharisees. One third of Jesus' ministry was teaching, yes. But the other two-thirds was deliverance and healing. He was the Son of God and STILL felt it necessary to BRING something to the table other than a bunch of words.

I believe in just living, out loud. The power of being and doing Jesus-work (loving God, loving people). If you're a Christian, your faith will come up in conversation. . . like in why you forgive and choose to continue to love people who have hurt you, why you give to the poor, why you take care of your property, why you don’t cheat on your taxes. Questions will arise as to why you still have hope in the midst of suffering. There's NO need to go around, with a chip on your shoulder, hitting people over the head with the Bible to PROVE a point and CONVERT THE SINNER. Some of the meanest people claim to be filled with the Holy Ghost.

Perhaps, that's the point. At the end of the day, "missions" isn't a thing. It's a person, and that person is a man or a woman with a mind and a heart. Jesus isn't a mission and He didn't treat people like notches on a belt, marks on a scorecard, or points on a gameshow. Instead, He went to the heart and the mind of those with whom He shared His life and that truly IS all of us. The real "mission" shouldn't be about a conversion. Instead, it should be a conversation, an offering of love and sincerity that convinces a friend of one simple truth - that the way I (we) value their heart is but a pale reflection of how much Jesus will do the same

It's Hard, But He's Harder - Solid Rock In Fact.

My husband begins his last semester of grad school tomorrow. And will work on completing 100 hours of internship. He works a full-time job. And is in the process of scouting for policy jobs.

He's a father and husband too.

We're insane.

I'm reminded of the truth that the darkest part of the night is right before dawn. I'm anticipating an all-and-all out sprint to the finish over the next several months, a testing of endurance like none other in our lives because, can I just say? This is hard.

"Hard" has become my go-to description word. When someone asks me (REALLY asks me and CARES about an honest answer) how I'm doing it - balancing the craziness and being a single mother a few days a week, working part-time, managing my household, and so on - all I can really say is, it's hard. I feel tired, pretty much all the time. Layers and layers of exhaustion. (This is why I believe in the power of make-up. And coffee.)

Sometimes, I find myself just pissed. And I can't always put a finger on why. (hormones, maybe?) Mostly, I think it's just life right now. A new friend recently put the mother-of-an-infant-angst into these words, "What are you going to do? Be mad at the baby? No, so you just get mad at everything else." And it's so true. (but sometimes I admit, I DO get mad at the baby. 'SLEEP, DAMN IT!' *ducks*)
I know, I know. My kids are healthy and beautiful and I have everything I ever wanted. I get that. I appreciate that and thank God for those things every day.

This is still hard. We are still so, so tired. Our marriage is more like two trains passing in the night. Date Night's so easily become business meetings and sex? Well, we try. *yawn*

Michael and I talked about hope recently. It's what gets us through. In four months, these times will be distant memories and a new chapter will begin. A wonderful, new beginning, somewhere in this grand world... All we need to do is hope for it. Keep our eyes on it. Follow the course and not waiver in our resolve to finish, and finish well.

But, it's hard. It's hard to hope in the unseen when you're in the midst of the day-to-day grind. We need something tangible to plant our feet in, to hold us in place when the waves of exhaustion and marital disagreements and parental confusion seeks to knock us down and distract us from the end just in sight. We need Jesus.

It's only in the arms of our Savior that we can endure. Yes it's hard. But He's harder - made of solid rock, a sure foundation. I don't know what we'd do without the stability of our faith.

Psalm 62
Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken...
My salvation and my honor depend on God: he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge...
One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love”; and, “You reward everyone according to what they have done.”

A Breastmilk Kinda Grace

People keep asking how breastfeeding is going. And I keep shrugging and saying, fine. Because most of the time, I've noticed people don't want my often lengthy responses. That, or they're just being polite. Or they're what I call part of the Breastfeeding Nazi Regime and I'm scared to say anything considered "breastfeeding irreverent." (lest I get called the anti-Christ for not thinking it's the best thing ever.) The truth is, I did not think I would breastfeed for even three months. I told myself just to make it to Christmas and then re-evaluate (Selah's three month birthday).

Let me be honest, formula IS easier sometimes. Babies sleep longer stretches on formula, other people can feed them so they're not so dependent on mother (which I think makes them friendlier - less separation anxiety). You can tell EXACTLY how much they've eaten which is helpful in detecting when they are getting sick or in the midst of a growth spurt. There is no need for breast pads and there isn't nipple soreness or engorgement or dietary restrictions (caffeine & alcohol & tobacco products), etc...

There are however a plethora of reasons breast is best. The health benefits for infants are amazing, especially in these early months of life when they are just beginning to develop their own immune systems. And for mother, it's extremely helpful for weight loss. Also, it's free! And formula is expensive. Toward the end of Nico's one year on formula, we were dishing out $35 a week. That's like, more than I spend on wine! Lastly, when packing a diaper bag for a breastfed baby, there is no need to worry about water, pre-measured formula powder, liners, bottles, the right kind of nipple, etc... As long as I have my boobs, I'm set to go. (Though with my ever-forgetful mom-brain lately, I'm surprised I HAVEN'T somehow lost by own boobs...Though they're pretty hard to miss these days.)

So here I am, fulfilling my commitment to re-evaluate breastfeeding at Selah's three month mark. And much to my surprise (and probably the surprise of lots and lots of people who have listened to me boohoo about breastfeeding), I can't imagine NOT breastfeeding for many, many more months.

It's not just the practical reasons stated above that have helped me to come to this decision but I've discovered a few things about breastfeeding that have, in a sense, inspired me to continue.

First and foremost, it's only in America that we make breastfeeding so, so...oh, how do I say this?, F-ING HARD and COMPLICATED and TABOO, or otherwise, such an inconvenience. I used to think my entire life (socially & work-wise) would be altered by breastfeeding but that's just not true. After reading article and blog after article and blog, like this and this, I now realize there is no need to be so stressed about feeding in public or drinking alcohol or pumping, etc. Some of the over-sensationalized information we get here in the US is because doctors are FREAKED out by lawsuits so they tell us worst case scenario as if that's the norm. (Don't have a sip of alcohol or your breastfed baby will get drunk and die of liver disease.) And Americans in general are just ridiculous when it comes to breasts. (Must run for cover if you're out and need to breastfeed because a naked boob is EXTREMELY offensive to the general public.) But these kinds of exaggerations and stupid social norms are not based in truth or reality, so why would I govern my life around them? I won't. (Bottoms up and boobs out, baby!)

Secondly, although there are some annoying aspects of breastfeeding (being the ONLY one who can feed my baby, needing to pump 2x or 3x a day in my office, her strong preference of ME over anyone else to comfort her, greater challenges in getting her on a schedule) I quite enjoy the bonding, YES I SAID IT, the bonding it has created between us. She needs me, and I need her. It's a natural and healthy co-dependency that I am surprised I enjoy. Skin on skin, the snuggles and eye contact, the cooing of satisfaction and the release of endorphins. I know, from a non-attachment parenting style mother, it's different for me to be so pro- ? whatever this is. I'm less rigid this time around, less baby wise. It's a whole new aspect of parenting that I am discovering with my girl! And I love it, similarly to how much I loved discovering that formula was the best way for me to parent Nico.

As a mother of two babies, my oldest being only 16 months, I am AMAZED and a little melancholy at how FAST time flies when it comes to raising children. Before I know it, my little baby girl will be a giant, mess-making, sippycup-demanding, stair-climbing, one year old monkey like my son. She will be off the boob and disinterested in snuggles. The little bunny-slipper, soft-cooing, sweet-breath baby window closes in the blink of an eye. So why not cherish it; every last nipple-sucking part of it (especially since it's going so well this time around)?

Lastly, I am sort of inspired and fascinated by what I am discovering about breastmilk/feeding and am learning some life lessons from this experience. For instance, the requirement to sit still and relax - forcing stress and worry to leave my mind in order to properly "let down" is live-changing! Everyone should learn how to make body, mind, and heart be at peace and rest and calm in an instant!

And did you know that breastmilk NEVER runs out? I could pump all my milk away and then feed her immediately after, and I'd let down again. Essentially, there is always enough for whatever she needs. And often, there is more than enough. Breast milk is like God's grace. Always sufficient and available and never-ending and renewed constantly. A supply given, on-demand. And the more it's used, the closer the taker is to the giver. This is the part of attachment-parenting I really believe in. I think God parents us this way. Kind of like, the more we sleep the more we sleep... The more Selah drinks, the more I have. The more we receive God's love and mercy and grace, the more we want of Him, the more He gives of Himself. Every person should know God's grace this intimately.

Please know, I still firmly believe in schedules and consistency and children sleeping in their own beds. I'm still me. I still adhere to some Baby Wise guidelines because I ALSO think God parents us this way too - with rules and boundaries and consistency. How I am with Selah vs. how I was with Nico is simply, different. Every child is different and should be parented accordingly.

So in conclusion, I'll set another goal and reassess in the spring. In the meantime, I just want to enjoy my baby and the breastmilk kinda grace she gives and takes and teaches me to live by.

Why Jesus Wants Me To Drink Alcohol

(A working title)

I know. I meant it to sound that way – shocking, obscure, maybe even a little irreverent. But I’m not actually joking. I really do believe Jesus wants me to drink alcohol.
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I grew up extremely sheltered. I listened exclusively to Christian music – but only the really conservative kind. (No, Amy Grant was not allowed. She sold her soul to the devil when she went “secular.”) I went to Christian School, learned catechisms and had to wear culottes. (cool-lots: a hideous type of skirt/short combo that covered naked knees – so not to cause men to lust.) In this type conservative Christian culture, swearing made you a bad Christian. Consuming alcohol meant you weren’t a true Believer. And premarital sex meant you were going straight to hell.

As soon as I could, I ditched the culottes, turned on some colorful hip-hop, and tried my best to partake in all of the rest of the illicit, naughty behaviors. I guess I just always felt that I had a pre-set reservation on AC/DC’s Highway to Hell. There was no measuring up. So why try? This type of religion required perfection and was utterly unattainable. And BORING. And not just boring, but pointless.

One time I was on an Evangelistic Crusade – a special mission focused week celebrated once a year. We were given tracks (Tracks: poorly made tri-folds with messages of hell and damnation) to distribute in neighborhoods and competed for prizes with who could win the most souls for the Lord. Yes, even us second graders. I so distinctly remember looking at the tract, looking at our outfits and knowing, just KNOWING – no one was going to buy into our message. We looked awful. We looked oppressed and sad and morbid. We weren’t relevant. Or fun. Or HAPPY! Even as a child I knew misery, judgment, and intolerance wouldn’t “sell.” Even as a child, I felt a real call to relate to people (to dress normal, laugh at jokes, and be NICE). I instinctively knew that this type of extreme religion was unappealing. And unreal. And just plain, inhuman.

It wasn’t until later, much later, that I encountered God the Father and began to walk with Jesus, to really know His love and to live in the spirit of His beautiful grace. After years of rebellion and grieving my imperfections, I came to realize something very, very profound and life-changing. Something that is also quite simple.

God calls us to live a life of balance. Moderation. And in so doing, we model so much of His heart and His life to those who stand on the fringes, without hope or faith.

For anyone who has known me longer than three years, you know moderation has not come easy for me. I’ve blurred the lines of appropriateness (and sobriety) on more than one occasion. There are a few main reasons for that, mostly my own sin and rebellious nature. I take full responsibility for my wrong doing. So what I’m about to say isn’t an excuse. It is however, a part-explanation.

I was never, ever modeled moderating. I was only modeled abstinence. No swearing, no denim (as a child born in the 80’s – can you imagine how HARD that was?), no kissing boys, no movie theaters, no swearing and NO ALCOHOL! (not even in cooking).

Instead of the condemning negative responses to all things stylish, cool, or fun – I wish a more moderate approach would have been modeled. After all, it IS possible to maintain morals without the extremes. It IS possible to wear a skirt above your knee and not be mistaken for a prostitute. It IS possible to go to a theater and not watch porn. It IS possible to have a few drinks and not get wasted. It is possible to go to a bar and maintain morality and engage in wonderful, life-giving, Spirit-breathed discussions.

Have I gone too far at times? Yes. In all things, frankly. Food included. (Don’t get me started on Christianity and food addiction) But simply because I CAN abuse alcohol, doesn’t mean I should never partake (and then make a bunch of rules as to why no one else should either). If I eat too much pizza, should I never eat again? Obviously, that’s ridiculous. Behavior isn’t corrected by NOT doing something. It’s curved and shaped by practice, effort, intentionality and grace.

So, here is why God wants me to drink alcohol. Not only is there something pretty relaxing that lends itself to honesty and transparency when a glass of wine is in hand and not only are there proven health benefits from wine and beer particularly but part of engaging people is being IN it with them (“in the world, but not of the world"). To me, being IN it is an actually physical manifestation of presence. Of modeling Jesus. (Jesus: the man who hung out with prostitutes and tax collectors.)

Personally, I have had more spiritually engaging conversations in bars than I’ve had in church. I’ve had tremendous breakthrough in my faith walk over several glasses of wine. (or beer) ((or vodka)) And I have to say, the less I have drank out of rebellion (abstinence), the less I have been drunk. Because life lived out loud in the presence of witnesses, modeling the heart of Christ isn’t about what you DON’T do. It’s about what you DO, when you are doing life.

Moderation – a desperately needed Christian attribute.