tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44127672878222354012024-03-13T04:42:34.319-05:00Thoughts from my head to yoursBrendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-18829095401935686182015-11-19T10:45:00.000-06:002015-11-19T11:03:28.299-06:00Who Is My Neighbor?In the past week I've been stunned at the fearful and xenophobic response of our nation to the plight of Syrian refugees. I've been disappointed at the people I know who support refusing refuge to refugees. Today I saw a map of the US with all the states whose have said they are not accepting refugees highlighted. I was deeply ashamed and disgusted at how many states were marked.<br />
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I have a rocky relationship with the Bible. I have read it in its entirety, but I don't read it frequently anymore. That being said, I did grow up hearing Bible stories frequently. I've been a church attender for most of my life. And I can't stop thinking about all the places, both Old and New Testament, where there is mention of welcoming and loving your neighbor. The Mosaic law was specific that the Jews should welcome foreigners as their own and give them the same rights. One of Jesus' most well-known parables was about who our neighbor is (the story of the Good Samaritan). I keep hearing the words, "Love your neighbor as yourself." "And who is my neighbor?" "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?" "The one who had mercy on him." "Go and do likewise." (from Luke 10). Not to mention the face that Jesus himself was a refugee who would have been killed by Herod (out of fear) had his family not found safety in Egypt (but of course I AM mentioning it because Advent is almost here).</div>
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I see history repeating itself. I think about the Trail of Tears, the refusal to accept Jewish immigrants during WWII, the Japanese internment camps. Absolutely shameful events in America's history. Appalling. My brain cannot comprehend that I am seeing the same attitude now in our country.</div>
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I know that this kind of reaction is based on fear. Fear is powerful. I've had to look long and hard at my own fear-based racist prejudices. I've been confessing the sin of racism and praying for a change deep in my heart for months, because I realized that I am part of the problem. I may not be able to change the world, but I can change myself. I can pray for a changed heart. I can actively seek to see the imago dei in every single human being, no matter how different that person may be from me. I am clearly not perfect in this area, but I'm attempting to recognize the blind spots within and open my eyes.</div>
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When I see this kind of fear-based reaction in others, it's really easy for me to just get frustrated. Especially if the other person is a Christian. I think, "It's so obvious that we are supposed to welcome and love those in need, and those refugees are in need!" or "It's so obvious that there is a desperate need for reform in the justice system as a devastating number of black people are shot by the police with no consequences for the officers." It is obvious to me, now. I struggle to remember that what may be obvious to me may not be to others, even others who are sincere and otherwise kind. I struggle to remember that I need to call Christians with whom I disagree my neighbor as well. I need to show them mercy and love as well, even when I think they're wrong, even when they think I'm wrong.</div>
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Isn't that the foundation of Christianity? Love God, love others. No exceptions. Not love God sort of, be nice to the people you like. Nope. It's love your enemies, do good to those who persecute you. Pray for your enemies. Ugh. It's revolutionary, because my first reaction is to say, nope! I want to holler at and have disdain for the people who are wrong. I want to feel smug and superior in my rejection. I want to elevate myself by pushing others down. It's an awfully good thing God has grace for me, too, because I'm still a messy work in progress. I'm reminding myself today to take a break, breath, and pray for peace in myself and in the world. </div>
Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-30906313752081508412015-11-04T15:58:00.003-06:002015-11-05T12:51:28.922-06:00A Christianity of BoxesI used to think that there was one right way to be a Christian. In my mind, there was no room for theological differences, or even differences in some preferences. No nuance, no sliding scales, no sometimes or maybes. Simple black and white. My whole childhood was black and white, everything fit into neat, tidy boxes. I remember well the discomfort in high school when I bumped into people with different beliefs; I didn't want any conflict, but they were wrong. I went to a college that was linked with my childhood denomination, and though that school officially agreed with what I had been taught my whole life, I met Christians from different backgrounds. Sure, we agreed on more or less most of the same things, but there was a hint of Christian diversity in my bubble for the first time.<br />
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My experience leaving college was messy and painful, and it pretty much destroyed any part of me that was still consciously hanging onto that black and white framework. I had seen too much to believe neat, tidy boxes were the way to sort my faith. As I spent the next years trying to put my life back together and figure out how to navigate as an adult, I found other people of faith who taught me great things. I discovered blogs and books and regular people just doing their best to love Jesus.<br />
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I grew up believing that rigidity was the mark of a true Christian. Now I believe that the best posture I can take is one of openness. I know full well that just as I've discarded many things I held onto dearly in the past, one day I may let go of beliefs I hold strongly now. I am more comfortable with uncertainty; I embrace it, in fact. I find great relief in admitting that I don't understand a lot, and there are so many things I don't know.<br />
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Sure, there is a part of me that still like rules. I like the tidiness of knowing what's right and what's wrong. But the messy uncertainty of learning to love freely is infinitely more rewarding than checking off boxes for good behavior, even when I know I'm falling short of loving well. The more I discover others who are throwing out checklists in favor of radical love, the less alone I feel, and the more excited I get about the love of Christ. That's when it feels magical, which is the unspiritual way of saying that I think the Holy Spirit likes it when we chase love and share love and revel in love.<br />
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Intellectually I have it all sorted out (as much as you can ever sort things out). I know what I feel in my heart, how I want to love and be loved and not feel as if I have to earn love. The reality is that I still have the echos of my childhood rules flitting through my head, so sometimes (OK, a lot of the time), I still feel as if I need to check off all the boxes even though my brain tells me the boxes are no longer helpful for me or even good for me. Often I am able to help block those echos by reading authors whose work speaks to the part of my heat that loves rather than the authors who like lists. Authors like Sarah Bessey and Glennon Doyle Melton make me feel like the only box I need to check is the one that asks if I am trying to love people (including myself). No caveats, no followup questions, not even a perfect response or completion. I like to remind myself that generally everyone is just trying to do the best they can, and that means I need to accept that my best probably doesn't equal perfection, but that's OK because nobody's does.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-32078136377040792452015-09-29T22:53:00.000-05:002015-09-30T20:03:33.929-05:00Why Christian?I've been trying to figure out how to talk about the Why Christian? conference I attended a few weeks ago without sharing every single detail, because the details matter less than the big picture. I chose to attend the conference because I had been greatly impacted by the writing of the hosts of the conference (Rachel Held Evans and Nadia Bolz-Weber), plus WX15 was in my backyard (aka Minneapolis), so it was logistically possible to attend.<br />
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Big picture: the Holy Spirit was moving in St. Mark's Cathedral. Every woman who stood before the crowd shared her story, shared her love for Jesus. To see strong, female leaders of such diversity was something I had never seen, and it was, quite simply, a thing of beauty. To hear from women of different denominations, different ethnicities, different sexual orientations, different lives all share the one thing they had in common was so powerful. It makes me think of Paul's words in Gal 2:28, "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."<br />
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So often in Christianity it feels like we are talking about how we're different. How we're different from the world, how we're different from those Christians over there who are doing it wrong, how we're not like THOSE people over there. It was so life-giving to celebrate our commonalities instead and have our differences fall to the wayside in light of truth of who Jesus is.<br />
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Jesus chose to inhabit a human body. He lived among regular, ordinary people. He was the recipient of judgment, scorn, and violence. And yet he loves us. His love is so much bigger than I can even dare to imagine. One of the most powerful moments of the weekend for me was receiving communion. At my churches we've always had a pass-the-plate or go-get-your-elements-and-then-take-it-to-your-seat-so-we-can-take-it-together sort of approach to communion. Taking communion at St. Mark's was different. I was looked in the eye and told that Jesus broke his body for me, that he shed his blood for me. For ME. It was intimate and personal in a way communion has never been for me, and so different from the shame and guilt that often leaves me not participating in communion at my own church.<br />
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I spent so much of day two (Saturday) in tears. Part of that was grieving the loss of my aunt who passed away that morning. Part of it was simply responding to the stirring in my soul. When redemption and grace showed up in the form of Amazing Grace played on the trombone, when I was told I am worth Christ's sacrifice, when my soul yearned for a kingdom where our pain and hurt will be no more and our sorrow is turned to joy, I couldn't help but weep. And let me be clear: I am not a public cryer. I think I've only cried in front of my therapist twice in the six and a half years we've worked together. It's really a testament that I felt safe enough even among strangers to let my heart flow through my eyes.<br />
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That weekend was the first time I'd ever heard gay, bi, and trans people share their stories in person from a place of wholeness. My whole life I have been told that first and foremost gay people are sinning. That's always what the emphasis was. At Why Christian? gender and sexual orientation were not the emphasis. Sure, people talked about them as they pertained to their own stories and the church in general, but the emphasis was love and passion for Jesus. How Jesus loves us as we are. How God created us and it was good. It was such a beautiful reminder to see the dignity in every human being, to call out and respect the Imago Dei in each of us. I felt so deeply in my soul the importance of loving others well, especially the people we don't understand, the people on the fringes, the people who are hurting. I felt the importance of loving myself, of recognizing God's love for me even when I feel my sin disqualifies me from being worthy of love.<br />
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Love God, love others. This is how I've been describing my faith lately. I just don't know about so many things, but I know that I believe in love. I truly believe that the love that was shown among the conference speakers and attendees was a sliver of a taste of what God's kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven will be like. It was such a sacred, moving, healing experience. I was reminded of why I choose to be a Christian even when I doubt, even when I face unspeakable loss, even when I am in the depths of despair and when my friends let me down. I cling to the hope of love like Christ showed, that he laid down his life for us. Love is powerful. That's what keeps me hanging on for dear life in the depths of my soul even when I feel like I'm drowning. It is an addicting, intoxicating love, and even when I can't feel it or even believe it fully, I have the hope that it's true.<br />
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I am so grateful for the stories shared, for the grace extended, for the unity displayed. I was changed at WX15 and so very encouraged. God is love, and love wins.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-89251389665304179552015-08-13T22:00:00.001-05:002015-08-13T22:01:29.777-05:00Hiding Our HumanityToday I read two posts that connected with my past on a deep level. One was an article talking about trigger warnings in classrooms and how there is a trend towards keeping places safe and free from emotionally fraught material. The other post was a blog written by one of my new favorite authors about her experience speaking at her alma mater.<br />
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When I remember my time in college, I have to fight to see the good parts. Because there were good parts. There were friendships and wonderful professors and late night giggles and getting yelled at too many times to count for being too loud during quiet hours. There were fall retreats and Battle of the Floors and singing in choir and loving the city I lived in even though it also scared and intimidated me. But mostly I remember how hellish my final time there was. I remember the crippling depression, the eating disorder, the alcohol abuse, the self-injury, the hospitalizations (yes, plural) because I didn't know if I had the strength to keep living. I remember falling HARD and feeling like there was no one to help.<br />
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College was where I first got real help. I had a counselor who made me feel less alone, like my problems weren't who I was, just things I was dealing with. So I will forever be grateful for the help I DID receive, because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that help saved my life. But college was also the place where I learned that my problems were too much, too big. I learned that Christian institutions want shiny, happy, healthy students that they can show off to benefactors, alumni, and potential students. They don't want messy imperfection in their walls. I remember living in fear of being honest with how bad things were because I was afraid of being kicked out, afraid of being rejected. Well, that did happen to me, and it was every bit as horrifying as I had feared.<br />
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I am super passionate about people feeling supported when they are down. I have been in the black pit of depression too many times, and I live in a constant state of alert waiting for the next cycle of despair to rear up and try to drag me under. I know how isolating it feels when your friends and family seem happy and healthy and you feel alienated from them in every way. I know how HARD it is to have faith when you can't feel love or joy or peace or hope and everyone who tries to make you feel better feels gratingly fake. So when a friend comes to me and wants to talk about how they're REALLY feeling, I do my very best to be a good listener. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning and someone asked if they can use my floatation device, too, but I try to listen anyway because I know they might not find another person to help them float a little until it's too late.<br />
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Why don't we talk more about how hard it is to be human? Why don't we talk more about how painful it is to be alive? I'm not saying there aren't AMAZING things about life, but I'm so tired of hearing how amazing things are when they most certainly are NOT in my life. It has been 8 years since I had the courage to go to the counselor's office at my college and say that I didn't know why, but my life was hard and I needed help or I wasn't going to make it. Sometimes I wonder how different my life might be if I had known how to ask for help sooner. Part of the problem was that none of the people around me had any understanding of mental illness. Pretty much my first year of counseling was learning what depression was and how to identify what I was feeling. Because I didn't know how to sit with my emotions long enough to identify them and their roots. All I knew was that I was supposed to be happy, but I wasn't.<br />
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I want a culture where we don't hide when life is hard. I want an environment when pastors and church leaders can publicly talk about the hard parts of their lives as they live through them, not once it's all over and resolved. I want people to feel safe talking about their pain so we can learn to empathize and understand each other. The more we understand each other, the better we can love each other. We have to stop crucifying people for failing, because THAT'S WHAT HUMANS DO. We fail. But we learn from our failures, and that's how we grow and mature.<br />
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Tomorrow will mark 5 months since my dad died. The first month after the funeral, I was more angry at the lack of support from the people around me than I was sad about my dad being gone. Part of that was because anger is easier to deal with than pain and sadness, but part of it was because I was so furious that even after years and years of trying to build a support system for just such an event, it failed spectacularly. I was furious at every person who tried to high five me and be cheerful in my direction. There was NO room in the culture around me for me to mourn openly. I felt anguish and guilt at how poorly I had supported my three friends who lost parents just months before I lost my dad. Being on the other side, I had so much more insight about how to be a good friend in times of tragedy. If I couldn't figure out how to find a safe place to express my true feelings for a loss that people universally recognize is devastating, how am I supposed to create a safe place for people who have hidden, little understood hurts? Why are we so afraid to drop the smile and cry when we are hurting? I know it's hard. My therapist and I have been working closely together for six and a half years, and I think I've only cried twice in front of him.<br />
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I don't have answers. I know it's hard. But if we all made an effort to reach out just a little, I think it would add up to a lot. If we all just texted one or two people each week to say, "Hey, thinking of you. How are you doing today?" I think maybe we would feel less alone and a little safer to share our true selves. I think we wouldn't be so afraid to share the complex parts of our humanity because we would understand that we belong to each other and together we can do hard things (to borrow two sayings from one of my favorite authors Glennon Doyle Melton). Sometimes when I need support the most, I offer support to a friend, and then we discover that we can support each other and make it through.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-82007203413415908362014-11-20T10:54:00.002-06:002014-11-20T10:54:47.423-06:00Everyone likes eggs, right?When I was little, I thought that if you didn't go to my church, you weren't a Christian. I don't just mean people who didn't go to church at all; I literally thought that if you went to a different church you weren't going to heaven. I had no concept of denomination or global church or worship style preferences. My entire view of religion was starkly black and white.
If I ever have kids, I'm going to explain denominational differences like eggs. Lots of people love eggs. They're so delicious and good for you. But people prefer their eggs cooked in different ways. Scrambled, hard boiled, sunny-side up, omelet. So it is with Christians. They all love Jesus, but he is so much bigger than we are, and people understand him in different ways. Some people love loud music and dancing, some people love silence and stillness. And just like eggs can be harmful if they're not cooked properly (no matter the preparation style), different churches can have harmful theology. It doesn't mean that they don't love Jesus.
I follow lots of Christian bloggers online, and I see so much division and bickering. I do understand that people have strong opinions about how Christians are supposed to live their lives, but instead of judging someone else who is sincere in their faith, how about we start being more intentional about loving others and speaking kindness to one another? If all people see is bickering, judgment, and hurtful words , why would they want anything to do with God? It's so much more beneficial to focus on what we have in common instead of blowing up our differences.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-7140189431473467872014-08-12T23:41:00.000-05:002014-08-13T01:41:59.877-05:00Inundated with DepressionI have spent pretty much all of today immersed in depression. I felt it in my heart, my head, read it with my eyes, listened to a talk about depression, cried tears related to depression, craved (and ate) sugar because of depression. It's been rolling over and through me in wave after wave.<br />
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I felt raw all day. Last night I cried and stayed up too late trying to sort out how I felt. Today I read blog after blog about depression. When a beloved actor commits suicide, people share all their thoughts about mental illness, even the ones that are ignorant and hurtful. People who should have just listened spoke and caused harm instead of healing.<br />
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I've been listening to Jason Gray's latest album for the last few days. He doesn't really have a unique sound. He fits right in with the typical Christian pop music melody-wise. It's his lyrics that make him stand out from the crowd. His songs are the most honest songs I've ever heard.<br>
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I keep holding on to the lyrics from the end of this song: "You don't even have to speak/Just sit with me in the ashes here/And together we can pray for peace/To the one acquainted with our grief." It's just the worst when I risk being vulnerable, take off my mask, and let someone know how I've really been doing, how much depression has really been hurting me, and they try to fix it or they brush it off. Sometimes more than anything I just want a friend to bring me some ice cream and sit with me while we watch a couple episodes of Friends. I just want someone to be there, to sit with me in the pain, to walk beside me as I try to make it long enough for it to get better.<br>
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I've been feeling incredibly lonely over the past few months. I've been fighting depression mostly by myself. I've had long-distance support from my best friend who lives on the West Coast, and of course my therapist helps. But I'm still left alone most of the time. I was thinking tonight that fighting depression is like training for sports competition. I should disclose that my only experience with playing sports outside of gym class in high school was when I played flag football in college, so the analogy probably isn't perfect. But it's fourth and goal and I'm going for it (I'm so full of sports knowledge!).<br>
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I spend all day every day training (fighting depression). I know that I need help to know how to train better, more efficiently, so I hired a coach (counselor/therapist). He gives advice, educates, cheers me on. It's a special kind of relationship, but it's professional. I need more help than just one person can give me, more support, so I've sought out some teammates, as it were (other people who are walking their own journey of mental health). I've attended a depression support group a few times, and it is so encouraging to know I'm not the only one going through this. So now I feel like there are other people on the field who are working towards the same goal I am, and if we help each other we can all get closer to the goal (making it through each day, getting to a place where we feel more in control of our mental illness). What's missing are fans (friends). Fans just show up and cheer on the athletes. They're supportive even though they can't hop on the field and play the game for me. This is a game where critics are not welcome, but fans are deeply appreciated. I keep looking up at the stands hoping for someone to smile and wave at me, cheering me on, but the stands are empty. My family loves me, and I love them dearly, but they don't live near me. It's like they're watching on TV; they're cheering me on, but it's not the same as watching the game live. The thing about fans that is so great is that they're there only if they want to be. I pay my coach. He's totally on my team, helping me, cheering me on, but it's different. I want people to choose to root for me just because they care about me and believe in me. People who are actively in my life because they live here and they like me.<br>
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So all these thoughts and feelings have been rolling around in my head. I'm trying to sort out my faith in the midst of feeling like church is harming more than helping. I started trying to connect with God in different ways and discovered that I love going to mass at the catholic cathedral a mile from my apartment. It brings peace to my soul. It feels a little weird to share all this, to talk about how much depression hurts, to talk about how I'm trying new things which is scary but helpful. Tonight I was at a talk on depression, and after the speaker shared his own story of dealing with depression and anxiety, he shared some scripture. He talked about how the Bible is testimony, and there is tension between the testimonies it contains. The primary testimony is how God relates to the people with whom he chooses to be in relationship, how he sees them, rescues them, loves them. And there are testimonies that are in direct opposition to that primary testimony, people who acknowledge how God has shown up for their ancestors, but they also cry out asking why God has forsaken them. Thinking about how the Bible is a collection of people sharing how they have or haven't encountered God made me want to testify the truth of my life right now. I felt compelled to share more about what depression is like for me, what trying to find God and faith in the midst of the pain is like. For years now I've hoped that somehow my experiences, my story, my testimony could somehow help someone else. They can't do that if I keep everything to myself and hide behind a mask of "I'm fine," so for now this blog feels like a safe way to experiment with sharing.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-77500296305916094002014-07-01T15:23:00.001-05:002014-07-01T15:24:21.336-05:00Sometimes I'm Angry at Depression, but Mostly I Don't Have the EnergyThere's a really great pastor at my church who is kind and clearly loves serving people. Just about every time he sees me, he asks how I'm doing. "I'm OK," I reply. And I'd say about 75% of the time he follows up with, "Just OK?" If he doesn't say it, the sentiment at least flashes across his face for a moment. I never really know what to do in that moment. Usually "I'm OK" means one of three things for me:
<br>1. I'm having an average, normal day. Nothing especially fantastic has happened, but it's not horrible. It's fine. It's OK.
<br>2. I don't think you want a truthful answer, so I'm just moving the conversation along.
<br>3. I'm feeling really awful and have no idea how to be truthful when it's not the time and place to have a serious discussion.
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I don't think people really know what to do when their friends or family members are depressed. I don't even know sometimes. It's not something tangible you can fix. And mental illness can cycle around, so it seems like the same thing over and over again. Sometimes I think my brain is just damaged, that there's nothing that can be done to make my life better, more hopeful, more meaningful.
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Depression is not fair. I hate that I find both relief and unspeakable loneliness in isolation. I hate that I struggle to connect with people, to find deep friendships. I hate that asking for help sometimes feels like putting a burden onto people I love, so sometimes I don't ask.
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For a majority of the past month, I haven't really felt like myself. Everything just seems like too much. I'm so lonely, but I can't stand to be around people. I spend hours upon hours at home alone, wishing things were different, that I had the energy to be a different, better person. I spend so much time trying to hold myself together that I don't have much room for anything fun. It's not that I'm always miserable, but it's hard work to have fun sometimes. Even as I was writing this I got a text from a friend about Connect Group, but I told her I wasn't going. It's too hard. I feel like a failure when I can't connect with people, when I can't care about other people.
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Yesterday I was so jittery it was like I'd been drinking caffeine all day, even though all I'd had was water, but most of the time I am so low in energy it feels like a Herculean task just to get the basics done. Often I use up all my social energy at work and have little or none left at the end of the day. So most nights I go home and watch Netflix or read or even just go to bed because I'm so tired I don't even care.
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One of the worst things, the thing that is most unspeakable for me, is how angry I get at God for all of this. I get so angry that I just have to suffer when he could take it away. I get so angry that he is mostly just silent, leaving me feeling unbearably isolated and unwanted. I watch worship at church unable to participate because I just can't, and it makes me feel sad and alienated. I pray and read my Bible most days, but so often it brings little or no comfort. Sometimes I feel a peace that I know isn't coming from me, but mostly I just feel lonely and sad. I watch as friends devote their lives to serving Jesus and sharing him with others while I don't even know what the point is of anything anymore. It's really hard to deal with existential angst when you're supposed to be a Christian. I sometimes fear that all my anger and doubt excludes me from God's love, because who could love someone so broken and fickle? I get really angry at myself for not being able to believe, for being selfish, for being prideful, for knowing that it's probably my fault that God feels far away.
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I don't know how to fix any of it. I do my best to get through each day and fulfill my duties at work, at church. Sometimes I text my friends asking for prayer. Sometimes I just lie in bed and cry, my tears a silent prayer for relief. There are days when I feel like myself, when I have fun, when I revel in an ice cream cone and laughing with people I love. I hope I have more of those days, that those days will start to outnumber the bad ones. They will, eventually. My depression cycles always end at some point. That gives me great hope, or at least enough oomph to carry on.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-14566438002764423572014-04-14T22:45:00.000-05:002014-04-14T22:53:45.987-05:00Rubber Ducks and AnchorsI was thinking about my rubber duck today and had an epiphany.<br />
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One of my greatest flaws is my tendency to get swept away by my emotions. I don't mean that in some sort of romantic, happy way. I get swept away in a way that makes it seem like when I feel something, that feeling trumps everything else. When I feel alone, that feeling tends to trump the truth that God is always with me. When I feel worthless, it trumps the truth that Jesus paid the highest price for my salvation.<br />
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I have been working hard to improve in this area, and I think especially in the last few months I've started to see some maturity there. I'd describe my life in 2014 as spiritually turbulent. I've been asking really hard questions and finding no satisfactory answer. I've been reading scripture that I can't make sense of and that makes me feel angry and sad. I've cried during sermons and stood silent during worship, unable to utter words that I don't know if I mean. And through all this I've been faithfully praying and reading my Bible, serving in church regularly, having deep conversations with friends, pushing through this chaotic storm just trying to hang on until the waters calm.<br />
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This brings me to the rubber duck. A few years ago a friend of mine was being supportive through a similar time of spiritual turbulence. She encouraged me to just keep floating on the water and ride out the storm. She then spent the next week or two looking for just the right rubber ducks before she gifted me one duck with a pirate hat, eye patch, and striped shirt and one duck that was blue so I would have a tangible reminder to ride out the storm.<br />
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So I was gazing at my pirate duck (the one I keep on my work desk) and thinking about storms and water when the lyrics "and this hope is an anchor for my soul" floated through my mind. When I think of anchors, I tend to think of sinking and drowning, but today I was thinking about how they are stabilizing. When you're in a storm, you want to stay afloat, but you also don't want to find out that you've blown off course when the waters finally calm and you can see where you are. An anchor keeps you where you need to be regardless of what the water is trying to do.<br />
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Somehow this idea of an anchor gave me a new perspective on hope. For a long time I've sort of resented the idea of hope because I had several years where my life was very dark and hope seemed nowhere to be found. Hope seemed so emotionally unstable, so fickle. Now I think maybe hope is more like something that's there subconsciously, waiting for the storm to die down so you can see it was there all along. Remember the story of when Jesus and the disciples were on the water and a storm came up? Jesus was sleeping. The disciples were freaking out. I want to be more like Jesus, calm in the midst of my emotional storms, instead of like the disciples, sure I'm going to die. The great thing is, though, that whether or not I'm able to keep my cool, the anchor is there. My faith is there, anchoring me. Faith is bigger than just how I feel on any given day towards God. It's something that tethers my identity to something bigger than my circumstances. I don't need the right answers, I don't have to try to be a better person or earn more righteousness. I just have to cling to the hope of my anchor to keep me where I need to be so I can emerge from the storm victorious.<br />
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It's hard to put into words exactly how I'm feeling right now, but I think the best way to sum this whole post up is to say that this: my whole life it's seemed like there's a disconnect between my head and my heart. I always had all the "right" answers intellectually, but I couldn't make my feelings match what I knew in my head. Somehow this revelation of hope being an anchor has bridged the gap, at least a little. I feel such a confident peace that I will be OK, even knowing that there will still be times I will cry myself to sleep out of fear or despair or feeling utterly alone. I will make it through the storm and keep sailing forward because I am anchored to Jesus. What a beautiful revelation to ponder during Holy Week.<br />
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/xiYq7dAYrd0?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-46462281105834117532014-02-28T22:31:00.001-06:002014-02-28T22:31:18.078-06:00A Midsummer Night's Dream at University of Northwestern St. Paul: A Review<i>A Midsummer Night's Dream </i>is my favorite of Shakespeare's comedies. I played Hippolyta in high school, and I've seen two different productions of this show at American Player's Theatre (Spring Green, WI). Tonight I saw <i>Midsummer</i> at University of Northwestern St. Paul, and I found the entire show to be delightful. It exceeded the very high bar I set for this play despite my initial uncertainties about the choice of era.<div>
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This production of <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i> was set in the 1960s. It actually worked very well with the story. The proper Athens was characterized by formal black and white wear, the forest had all the color and flow of hippies, and the mechanicals were wonderful in their colorful but simple fare. The only costumes I felt didn't fit were those of Oberon and his gang, which felt much more 80s than 60s. The Pyramis armor costume was genius and my favorite of the show. The sets were lovely without being overly complicated, and the set's many levels and playing spaces worked well throughout the show. I enjoyed the short news broadcast transitions that somehow seamlessly blended technology and Shakespeare, reminding me of similar shots from Baz Luhrmann's <i>Romeo + Juliet</i>.</div>
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I was so impressed by the entire cast's comfortableness with the Elizabethan language. It wasn't jarring in the least to have a modern setting with the older language. The actors delivered their lines with ease and nuance. Everyone was so expressive in their body language and facial expressions. Humor can be hard to deliver well, but I felt this cast really played with the humor without pushing it too far over-the-top. I laughed so hard at the mechanicals' play that I was crying. That scene was the crowing jewel of the show and was a great example of how the entire cast was in tune with each other. Even actors in the background contributed beautifully to the scene, with the "off-stage" mechanicals peering out from behind their set to observe. Starveling was even mouthing the words along with her co-actors as Philostrate cringed at their antics.</div>
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A few stand-out actors were Lydia Wildes as Helena, Dr. Keith Jones as Philostrate, and Mitch Geiken as Bottom, who stole the show. Oberon and Puck had fun chemistry, Titania's fairies were wonderfully spritely, the lovers were romantic and fun, the royals presided over the goings-on with stateliness, and the mechanicals were endearing and hilarious. I can't say enough how much I thoroughly enjoyed this production. Hats off to a job phenomenally done by the cast and crew!</div>
Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-60273680567897548442013-11-10T14:54:00.000-06:002013-11-10T14:54:47.430-06:00Live for MoreLast Sunday my church started a sermon series called Live for More. The first week was about volunteering, and they're encouraging people to interact via social media. Well, I decided that I have a whole lot to share, so I decided to write down some of my experiences (photos thrown in for good measure). You might want to grab some popcorn, because I am not a succinct storyteller.<br />
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I am something of a life-long church volunteer. I grew up attending church, and even as a kid I spent time volunteering. When I was in college, I slacked off on church attendance quite a bit, but I had a lovely year when I volunteered for a Wednesday night kids' ministry (where at least twice I painted my hair as a reward for the team with the most points).<br />
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In my fourth year of college, I was diagnosed with major depression. Life was pretty awful for me for quite awhile. I had to leave school before I graduated, and I spent almost a year feeling pretty bitter towards God. The people who hurt me the most, who treated me like I was not worth much, were people who said they loved Jesus and made their lives about him, and it made everything feel confusing and painful. Towards the end of the summer of 2009 (the year after I left school), I realized how lonely I was. I had never really made friends outside of church or school, so I decided maybe it was time to give church a chance again. I had tried two different churches without finding the right fit when a friend recommended that I try Substance Church.<br />
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I remember how nervous I was that first Sunday. I had given myself a week to work up to it. I checked out the website, looked at a map to make sure I knew where to go and where the parking options were. Trying new things by myself when I know there will be a bunch of people is really hard for me. As I drove onto the Northwestern campus, I was greeted by the parking team. Oh, the parking team! At the other churches I had visited, I didn't know where to park or where to go once I got inside the building. At Substance, there were these crazy joyful people waving bright orange flags guiding me to a spot. When I parked my car, I sat for a moment fighting back tears. I hadn't even set foot in the church yet, and I knew there was a joy here that was unlike any church I'd attended before.<br />
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Substance has been my church home ever since that first Sunday. I spent my first few months attending lots of subgroups, trying to find friends even though all of the newness was so uncomfortable for me. In early 2010, I decided I was finally ready to volunteer. I was a little wary, but knowing that I wouldn't have to do it every week and that I could stop if I needed to, I took the plunge. Because of the impact my first visit had on me, I had no doubts that I wanted to join the parking team. I helped out on the last Sunday that Northwestern had only one service, and the next week when we jumped to two services, I began a three-and-half-year journey on the 1st service red team, part of that time as the team lead.<br />
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During the summer of 2010, I made a few connections during a volunteer party and found myself connected with someone who was running lighting. I started training for the media team, and for years I planned my schedule around the Sundays when I was either parking or running lighting (sometimes both in one day). I still run lighting regularly for Northwestern, The Well, and for other things like Deeper or Family Fun Night on occasion.<br />
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Being a volunteer has drastically changed my experience at Substance, and really my entire life. I feel such ownership; Substance is MY church. I know the staff, the pastors, the interns. I get up earlier on Sundays than I do for work on Mondays, and I'm OK with that. Best of all is the relationships I have made. The people volunteering with me are not just fellow volunteers or church members. They are my friends. They are people who have shown me grace when I have failed spectacularly. They are the people who encourage me when depression makes it seem like there is nothing good in the world. They pray for me when my faith is failing. In the past six months alone I have experienced support from so many of my friends when my car broke down, and they rejoiced with me like crazy when God provided a way to replace it.<br />
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Since my depression diagnosis in college, my life cycles through periods of normalcy and periods of bleakness. I think it can be hard for people without depression to understand how inaccessible God can seem when you're in the middle of a dark pit. My friends stick by me even when I'm doubting or angry. I am part of a community that wants health and wholeness but appreciates how complicated the journey to get there can be. I'm in one of those hard times now, and the late-night texts and conversations give me the strength to keep going. I find joy in putting aside the pain that I feel and serving others, even if only for a few hours a week. Volunteering keeps me connected with my friends, but also reminds me to look outside of myself, to try to keep perspective on the bigger picture of the Kingdom of God.<br />
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I think what happened at church this morning sums up how being a volunteer has made my life more than just going through the motions. I volunteered to park this morning, and when we were done, the four of us stayed backstage talking for the rest of the service. We talked about really deep things, shared parts of ourselves that we probably don't share with just anyone. And the only reason we even met each other was because of volunteering. Between services I went up to the media booth to say hi to my friends. I mentioned that I hadn't actually attended first service but wasn't sure I was going to stay for the second service, and someone joked about how me coming up to the media booth was church for me. It really is, in a way. In my time volunteering at Substance, I have made friends who make my life richer. These people value me, they assure me that they do not define me by my mistakes, and they appreciate having me be part of the team. The people at Substance aren't perfect, but they continue to show me a love that keeps me going even when everything else is telling me I shouldn't exist. There are days when I fully intend to show up, put in my time serving, and go home, but every single time I am reminded by the people around me that life is so much better when I engage and choose to live for more.<br />
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<br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-19203450440465668952013-09-14T00:24:00.002-05:002013-09-14T00:24:48.869-05:00The View from the BoothFor over three years now I've been a volunteer on the media team at my church. My main area is lighting, but when it comes to The Well (our women's ministry), I do a little bit of everything. Tonight was our fall kickoff, and I was thinking about how differently I experience church in general when I'm in the booth.<br />
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Being a media volunteer is interesting in that there is both a deeper involvement with the service and a sort of detachment. I get to see the worship band sound check, I get to help set the mood for worship with lighting colors and visual backgrounds, and I get to join the worship team and leads for pre-service prayer. At the same time, during the actual service I am somewhat disengaged from actually worshipping because I am paying attention to changes in tempo, transitions between songs, and making sure that when the MC comes up there is appropriate lighting on stage. Tonight during the message I was helping my amazing VO operator be prepared to put the right slides up on the screen. I hear what's being said, but I don't always retain very much.<br />
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As a church volunteer and leader, I know that I can't always get filled up or fed spiritually during weekend services. I have to be intentional on my own time to focus on God, and it can be hard to make that happen when things are busy or I'm tired or I'm just feeling depressed. That's why it's really neat when I make connections in a different way.<br />
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Some of the most honest conversations I've ever had have been while I've been in the media booth. There's just something about being in a small, quiet room with just one or two other people that invites you to blurt out things you might not say otherwise. Sometimes it starts with a comment about the service, sometimes it's more intentional. Tonight one of my dear friends was working alongside me, and even though she wasn't feeling great, she stayed late after the service to sit and listen while I spilled what was going on in my life. She gave me the wonderful gift of just listening.<br />
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By the time we wrapped up our conversation, most of the people had left. I typically miss most of the after parties at The Well, and that's entirely on purpose. By the time I've been planning all week and then running the service, I'm pretty tapped out. Big crowds of people exhaust me, and I sort of hate meeting new people in general. When I finally emerge from the booth, I am able to spend a little bit of time with my friends who are still there to clean up and shut down the building. I like being useful and helping to tear things down and get the space cleaned up.<br />
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Sometimes I think about how nice it would be to get to join in the worship and not have to focus on anything but my experience with God, but mostly I'm thankful that I've found a way to engage in the church without constantly feeling uncomfortable or out of place. Most people probably have no idea what I'm doing, but I know that I'm useful. I like getting to be part of the action in a more hands-on way. And I'm really thankful for the amazing friendships I've found because of my willingness to sit in the back and work hard. There is a special joy in serving alongside people you love.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-25735328124921681142013-08-05T21:51:00.001-05:002013-08-05T21:51:19.739-05:00Envy and WorthSometimes when a friend is doing something amazing, I feel genuinely excited for them. I cheer them on, send encouraging notes, and try to be a good friend all around. But sometimes, something good happens to someone I know, and it happens. I feel it creep up on me, sinking its ugly teeth deep into my soul. Envy worms its way into my heart.
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Envy is not about wanting what other people have. It's about believing deep down that because someone else has something that you do not, you are less valuable. For me, envy says that because she is married and I am single, I am worth less. Because he is more respected than I am, I am worth less. Because she is prettier than I am, because she can act better than I can, she is more valuable than I am.
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That is NOT how God sees things. Jesus told a story of a lost sheep where a shepherd left the 99 he had to go look for the missing one, and when he found it he rejoiced. Jesus told a story of a father and his two sons, and when one son screwed up big time and the other had a bad attitude, the father loved them both. He did not rebuke his sons but declared his love in a way that showed there was nothing they could do to make him love them less.
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Yesterday I texted a friend some thoughts about how great it is that God does not have a finite number of blessings. This friend and I have both been in similar areas of need, and I thought about how great it is that she doesn't have to worry that the fact that God provided a computer for me does not negate his ability to provide a computer for her. God isn't up in heaven crunching the numbers and feeling bad because he already used up his computer blessing quota. He is not picking and choosing blessings giving only to the perfect favorites.
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My thoughts are a little scattered, but I feel a need to remind myself (and maybe you) that "Beloved" is not a title we can lose. It is not a name God hands out on a whim and takes it back when we are bad. We are each God's favorite, we are each worth so much to Him that he sacrificed His son for us. I don't pretend to really understand that or even believe it very well, but it bears repeating: God rejoices over us even when we're slinking back to Him ashamed of where we've been. He will not give up on us, he will not neglect us. God loves us more than we can comprehend.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-10213889527632540152013-06-14T09:36:00.001-05:002013-06-14T09:36:58.445-05:00Who I AmLast night was the first meeting of the summer book group in which I am participating. We're reading "Girls with Swords," by Lisa Bevere. We've only hit up the first chapter, but its about choosing who you will be. Will you be a hero in your story, in other people's stories? I'm pretty excited about it, and we had a great group of women there.
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Today I finally remembered to look up a music video that a friend told me about weeks ago. I'm already on the <strike>3rd</strike> <strike>4th</strike> 5th listen through, and I wanted to share it.
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This is a constant struggle for me, to discern if the things that have been said to me are truth or lies. It's especially hard when some of the most awful things people have said or done to me are by people I was supposed to be able to trust, people who were supposed to be looking out for me. I am trying to embrace the truth that I am a daughter of the most high King, that I am loved, wanted, cherished. In a world where people grow, change, and move in and out of seasons of life, it can be really hard for me to accept that God does not change. He does not love me more or less based on how I act. He doesn't get tired of me and move on, or get married and have no time for me anymore.
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This is where it gets hard for me: I FEEL like God doesn't love me, or none of my friends care about me. It can be really hard for me to acknowledge that my feelings do not determine how others feel. That's why I still have birthday cards up on my VCR. They (and the kind words inside) are tangible reminders of the friends I have, things that I can't deny. And when I focus on those, my feelings start to change, to line up with the truth that I have amazing friends who love me.
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That's why I started trying to memorize the book of Ephesians earlier this year. Sadly, I dropped the ball, but I intend to pick it back up and keep going. Meditating verse by verse, even sentence by sentence, helps the truth of God's love to sink in deep down. As a wise friend pointed out to me yesterday, sometimes what I really need is to take my problems and hurts to God first. It's ridiculous how easy it is for me to forget how healing being in His presence can be.
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I am a beloved daughter of Christ. I have been purchased at a high price. I am God's masterpiece. I am a warrior. I left normal behind and am now covered in righteousness.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-4753292520809388532013-06-05T13:31:00.000-05:002013-06-06T13:38:50.079-05:00Desperate PrayersLast night a good friend of mine preached at our church's midweek service. She talked about desperate prayers, and while I don't remember the five points of her message, I hope I always remember the prayer I prayed afterward. There were about 40 minutes after she finished where there was time for prayer and worship, and I thought about all the things going on right now where I am trusting because that's all I can do. This is what I ended up praying:
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I can't.
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Over and over again, I prayed that. I can't. I. Can't. You HAVE to, because I can't. YOU have to, because I can't. I can't heal sick family members. I can't replace my car or my computer or save enough for retirement. I can't save the people I love. I can't run my life by myself.
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Last night I felt some of the desperation of realizing that I cannot live my life without God. I stopped trying for a moment, stopped clinging to the edge of the cliff, stopped trying to string my life together. I stopped picturing myself struggling to piece my life together when I'm 75 and alone. I let go of the cliff, free falled, and told God that He has to because I can't.
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And today I feel like a weight has been lifted off me.
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It's not that I won't ever struggle or worry. I'm human. But I think I have begun on the path of learning to truly put my life in the hands of God, of trusting that He will care for me for my entire life. Somehow I had this idea that when my parents were gone, when I get old, when the people I love start to die, that there would be no one to care for me, to care about me. I somehow managed to believe that God could only take care of me if certain people were in my life. How freeing to realize that God is bigger than that, that while God shows his love and care through people, he does not require the planets to align in exactly the right way in order for Him to be able to provide and care for His children.
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I still have some really big things going on right now that have not yet been resolved. And when there is finally resolution, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be celebrating like crazy. In the meantime, I am holding on to the big picture of God's life-long provision and care. I am remembering how God provided manna and quail in the wilderness. I am remembering how God has cared for His people through all kinds of dire circumstances. I am choosing to claim victory over my life.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-10769172256572785352013-05-21T12:01:00.000-05:002013-05-21T12:02:02.678-05:00EntitlementIt was late, and I was hungry. So I went to a nearby fast food drive thru to get a little something to eat. The wait was a little long, and by the time I got home I was all set to dig in. Except my food was wrong. And it wasn't the sort of wrong where I could sort of fix it and eat it anyway, so I hopped back into my car and drove to the restaurant. I went through the drive thru, told them how my order was messed up, and they corrected it. When I got home, I was crabby. And my food, while technically correct, was thrown together sloppily. I was so irritated. I went to the company website and sent in a complaint. They hadn't even apologized for their mistake! They owed me.
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And then today I got a call from the manager. A voicemail, actually, since I was at work, and he asked me to call back because he'd like to give me a free meal. I thought about it before I called him back. I've worked in fast food. I know that there is a chain of people who deal with each order and it's not everyone's fault. I know that it's stressful and crazy. I also know that I did in fact get what I paid for, and since it's close to where I live I'll be back again. After all, the woman who's usually on drive thru in the late afternoon is really nice and great at her job.
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I called the manager. He apologized, and I told him that I used to work in fast food. I get it. And I told him that I knew the customer experience was important and figured they'd like to know what was going on. He said that they had just hired a handful of new people and were still training them. I told him I'd be back as a customer because it's nearby.
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When this happened, I was actually sort of angry that they didn't reimburse my meal right away. Today I realized that I don't need it. I don't want to be the sort of person who feels entitled to compensation for every mistake that someone makes. I need to have a little (or a lot) more grace when it comes to dealing with people. After all, I want them to have grace for me when I make mistakes. If I were to find a wallet, would I feel entitled to a reward for returning it? I hope not, because the motivation for doing the right thing should simply be that it is right. Life shouldn't be about what we can get, it should be about what we can do.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-285192426713786802013-04-10T23:14:00.000-05:002013-04-10T23:16:29.145-05:00Learning to Embrace My Puzzle PieceIf you know me well, you know that I enjoy quite a few rather nerdy hobbies. I enjoy quiet, solitary things, and one of them is jigsaw puzzles. I'm sure I inherited this trait from my dad, who used to spend hours and hours on a huge puzzle in our basement.
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Tonight at my small group we were talking about the Kingdom of God, and what that means in the here and now. We talked about how we are to let the Holy Spirit flow through us, and when we do that, God is reflected uniquely in each of us. We all play a part in the Kingdom of God, and no one is the same. It's like we're all puzzle pieces.
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Have you ever put together a puzzle only to find out that the last piece is missing? It's incredibly frustrating. I once put together a 500 piece puzzle, but there was a problem. There were definitely 500 pieces, but two of them were the same.
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<a href="http://twitpic.com/8gdbkv" title="Somehow I got a duplicate piece in my puzzle. Hope I'm n... on Twitpic"><img src="http://twitpic.com/show/thumb/8gdbkv.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Somehow I got a duplicate piece in my puzzle. Hope I'm n... on Twitpic"></a>
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When I got to the end of the puzzle, I had an empty space and an extra piece that was of no use to me. As I was thinking about our small group conversation, I realized how important it is not only to realize that we reflect God uniquely, but that we need to realize that we shouldn't try to be just like someone else. It's easy for me to wish I looked like that person or had a more fun personality like this person. But if I change who I am, I not only leave a hole where I was created to fit, but I could steal the spot of someone else. I need to remember to work in my own strength and let other people find their places.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-34433365964232077572013-02-21T12:49:00.001-06:002013-02-21T12:49:51.060-06:00It's like magicLast night I met with a group of people who is interested in bringing spiritual depth to our church culture. My friend has been wanting to do this for six months, and last night he was vision casting. He said that one time as a part of a fast, he sought to bring God into every single thing he did. So at one point when he was thinking about cars (he's a car guy), he stopped to ask God what He thought. My friend now has a huge network/group of people who are into cars, about half of them Christians.<br />
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Today as I was reading some Harry Potter, I recalled this conversation. Somewhat amused, I thought to myself, "I wonder what God thinks of Harry Potter." I realized that our love of magic, our desire to see the amazing, the impossible, is something put in us by God. God spoke, and the universe formed. Out of nothing. Jesus spoke and raised Lazarus from the dead. If we didn't use the word miracle, we'd probably say it was magic. Our love of creating is because we are made in the image of God, the creator of everything.<br />
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How cool would it be if heaven is where we get to create like God does? What if instead of painting a sunset, I could actually create a sunset? What if instead of sketching a seascape, I could actually create a cliff and rocks and waves? How amazing would that be? I have no idea what heaven will be like. It's just too much to imagine. But when I paint, when I create, it's a little bit of heaven on earth.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-27504953602797508162013-01-12T23:47:00.000-06:002013-01-12T23:47:47.242-06:00A New YearIt's a new year. Yes, 2013 is newly upon us, but it's also a new year for me, as I turned 27 yesterday. This is the time of year when I take a little time to reflect on the past year and think about what I'd like to happen in the future. To that end, I made a vision board.<br />
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I got the idea for a vision board from a blog I read, <a href="http://wouldashoulda.com/2012/12/31/good-riddance-2012/#more-7541">Woulda Coulda Shoulda</a>. She made a collage out of magazines, and I liked the idea of having something to help focus my thoughts and desires. I brought home some old issues of magazines from work (perks of working in a reception area), and I spend some time paging through them and cutting out whatever caught my eye. When I assembled my collage, I used a few pictures from calenders to get started, then I just started adding things. I have a mix of pictures that I liked--things I thought were pretty or fun or just me--and words or phrases that encompassed the direction in which I'd like my life to head. Here's a picture (click for a larger version):<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fzf2a1VfjUg/UPJAvSZyBUI/AAAAAAAAANA/xBEQq-c9tYY/s1600/DSC02806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fzf2a1VfjUg/UPJAvSZyBUI/AAAAAAAAANA/xBEQq-c9tYY/s320/DSC02806.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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There is one thing that I purposely did not put on the collage, although it's still sort of a goal of this year. Boyfriend. I thought about it, but I didn't want to make it into something that I check off a to-do list. At my birthday party, however, my friends asked what one thing I'd like to happen in this next year. I thought about it, trying to decide how honest or serious to be, and I decided to just go for it. "I'd like to go on a date," I said.<br />
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I have never been on a date. I have hung out with guys who are friends, but I have never been on a real, actual, maybe-this-will-turn-into-something-romantic-down-the-line date. At this point in my life, I don't want to go on a date just to finally say I have. I can't picture myself as much of a casual dater. I have been giving a lot of thought lately to what I can do to get closer to my dream of marriage and kids. My counselor suggested that maybe I should start being more flirty with guys, like maybe post on a guy I admire's Facebook wall. One day I was on Facebook, staring at the profile of a guy I know, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Somehow writing "My therapist told me to post something flirty on your wall" didn't seem like it would get me many dates, so I just chuckled and moved on to something else. After a week of trying to figure out how to be flirty, I decided it's just not me. Neither is online dating. I sort of tried it, but my heart just wasn't in it.<br />
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The past few years I've been working steadily on becoming a better me. Because, as <a href="http://www.northpoint.org/messages/the-new-rules-for-love-sex-and-dating" target="_blank">Andy Stanley puts it</a>, "Am I the person the person I'm looking for is looking for?" And really, that's what my collage is about. Yes, I want to get married. But what if I don't? I still want to be a better person, a more whole, healthy person. I want to work through my inner demons, I want to enjoy my life and fill it with joy. I want a romantic relationship, but I don't want to put my life on hold in the meantime, nor do I want my happiness to revolve around my relationship status. It's really hard sometimes, especially on the days when loneliness creeps in. Whether or not I find love in 2013, however, I want to find joy and peace in my life. I want to learn to love myself, learn to love my friends, learn more about God's love, and maybe, just maybe, I'll find a little romance along the way.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-40252952476550567482013-01-01T04:14:00.000-06:002013-01-01T04:14:03.922-06:00What Is Normal, Anyway?I think I have a mouse. I haven't seen one, but tonight I have heard two short squeaks that make me think there is one somewhere in my closet. I was immediately filled with dread, feeling like I just can't handle this. Because at my last apartment, I caught over 40 mice in less than two years. It was horrendous. And this weekend, when I pulled a wooden spoon out of my drawer and found two tiny bugs on my hand, I tried really hard not to freak out. Because at my last apartment, I had a horrible roach infestation for the last two months I lived there (yes, my last apartment building was not a happy place by the time I left). When I see signs of some pest in my living space, I start to panic, because I've seen what happens when they take over. What I try to remember is that it's probably normal to have a few pests now and then. 40 mice? Not normal. 1 or 2 a year, especially when it's cold? Probably normal, though not fun. A few bugs now and then? Normal. I mean, we always had ants in the summer growing up, and I never freaked out like I did with the roaches. In the southern states, it's weird if you DON'T have a bug guy to treat you for various pests.<br />
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It's so hard to keep an objective view of what normal is when you're in the midst of something. I remember clearly that I didn't think anything of the roaches at first, just figuring it was summer and it was typical to have some bugs. But then I realized they were roaches, and that there were a ton of them, and all of a sudden it felt so overwhelming. It crept up on me. I can't even remember which mouse it was when I went from "this is annoying" to "this is ridiculous" to "this is NOT right." You get in survival mode, and when you're focusing on surviving, it can be really hard to gauge where you are. When I was first diagnosed with depression, I was relieved to have someone tell me that it was NOT normal to feel as awful as I did for so long. I sort of knew that, but I had felt that way for so long and just kept pushing through that I really wasn't sure sometimes. I should have known something was up a lot sooner, when my grades started to suffer. For me, it was not normal to have learning be so difficult. It was like a flip switched, and all of a sudden I felt stupid in school. I would stare at a computer screen for hours, having no idea what to write for papers.<br />
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I think this is one of the reasons it's so important to have close friends. We all need to have people who know us intimately, people who can tell us when they start to see us veering off the path. I think having accountability like this can help ward off certain problems with habitual sins before we get far down that path. For example, if you are the sort to drink alcohol rarely or only moderately, if your friends see you start to drink frequently and heavily they can say something. It could be so easy to justify it to yourself. After all, don't we see on TV and in the movies that college and even high school students do it all the time? Don't we sometimes see grown adults being functional alcoholics presented as somewhat normal? We need people in our real life to give us perspective, to be honest with us. It's not easy. If you don't have a relationship built on trust and mutual friendship, it can be really easy to feel judged and get defensive. If you're hearing this kind of truth from someone you don't know well, it can be easy to say "What do they know, anyway?" and ignore the truth in what they spoke.<br />
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I have a friend who lives across the country, and we contact each other about once a week for some accountability stuff. We have a few specific things, but it's nice just to know I can be honest about everything. She's a safe space for me. And when I've been doing things that I'm not comfortable sharing with her, that's a really good barometer of whether or not I should be doing them. Because if I know she won't be happy to hear it, I know I shouldn't be doing it. We've talked about all sorts of things, and it goes both ways. We've also struggled with some of the same things, which helps with the whole not feeling judged thing.<br />
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It's a new year. I'm not big on making New Year's Resolutions, but I do like to look back and reflect a bit on the previous year. 2012 was filled with apartment/pest drama, but otherwise it really was a pretty good year. I've made some wonderful friends in that time, I've done a lot of things that I loved. I got to see some amazing shows, I read a lot of books, and I laughed a lot. I'm really happy to realize that my normal has shifted to a place that is mostly contentment and thankfulness. I'm so thankful for my job, my church, my friends, my family. I'm thankful that depression isn't my daily normal, even though I struggle with it sometimes. I'm thankful for fresh starts and forgiveness. I'm thankful that normal can change for the better, that there is always a bend in the road. Who knows what exciting things lie beyond?Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-66264663213582050622012-12-19T15:56:00.000-06:002012-12-19T15:56:10.773-06:00DepressionLast week I read <a href="http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/whole-life/christian%E2%80%94and-depressed" target="_blank">this</a> article and sent myself an email reminder to write a blog about depression. So of course I forgot. And then today I was thinking about what I want next week to look like, what I want January to look like, and I started thinking about how I want to interact with my friends right now in light of the depression that's creeping in.<br />
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I was diagnosed with major depression in college. It was probably two years of feeling like life was not worth living, of feeling like there was no hope. Getting better and feeling more normal was a long, gradual process. As I look at the past two years, I can see a pattern emerging. Spring turns into summer and I'm enjoying life. I'm involved in activities, I'm seeing my friends on a regular basis, and things are good. Fall rolls around, and I love the cooler weather, the beautiful foliage, the golden sunlight. Once winter starts to set in, though, especially around the time we set our clocks back, I start to love life a little less. It's gradual and in dribs and drabs, but a bad day here and there becomes a bad week, and then I seem to have a bad month or so before spring hits.*<br />
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Everyone has good days and bad days. That roller coaster of emotion is just part of being human. When depression starts to set in, it's different. Where once I would wake up in the morning feeling emotionally recharged after a bad day, depression keeps the negative emotions rolling from one day to the next. I don't bounce back very quickly from emotionally difficult or draining situations. I have a much harder time joking with friends, having light conversation. Everything feels heavier. I will probably enjoy myself at events and when I'm with my friends, but often the happiness is gone by the time I reach my car. I feel like crying a lot more for no reason, and even though I can usually hold it in I'll get choked up more frequently. Sometimes my car is the only place I can let it out.<br />
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One of the biggest ways depression affects me is how it hits my faith. I constantly wrestle with my faith, whether I am in a season of health or a season of depression. I question, I doubt, I get angry, I long for neat and tidy answers that I can understand. When I am depressed, the joy goes out of my faith. I go through the motions because I know I can't base my faith entirely on my emotions.** I show up at church, I volunteer, I try to still be there for others. Leading is doable but difficult. I walk a very fine line between faking it and being genuine but not negative. It is hard. One thing I have said before is that I cannot hope for myself when it feels like this. I have to rely on my friends to hope and believe for me. That being said, here are things that are helpful for me when depression is dragging me down:***<br />
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1. Don't constantly quote scripture or talk about how everything will get better. Some people will disagree, but I find it insincere and grating. I don't need a friend to pull me out of my depression. I need a friend to walk through it with me. For me, that means letting me talk when I need to or not talking at all. I will be less likely to open up if I feel like I'm going to be brushed aside and fed a cliche (no matter how true the cliche may be).<br />
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2. Ask how I'm doing (but only if you really want to know). I hate trying to figure out how to be pleasant around people when I'm not doing well. People constantly ask, "How's it going?" but don't want to know if the answer isn't, "Good." I have yet to find a good way to answer vaguely that things could be better without making the entire conversation awkward, and I just hate being insincere and saying everything's fine when it's actually the opposite.<br />
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3. Pray for me, but not necessarily with me. I know that prayer is helpful, even when it doesn't feel like it. Sometimes all prayer is to me is knowing that my friends think I'm important enough to bring me up to God. I've found that when I'm feeling really depressed, it is hard and sometimes even painful to hear people speak hope over me. It really depends on the day and setting.<br />
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4. Spend time with me doing little things. I'm never one for huge events. It's just not my style. When I'm depressed, my desire to withdraw and become a hermit increases exponentially. A few weeks ago I spend an afternoon with a friend doing nothing. We watched movies, ate snacks, talked, and we made wearing sweatpants a requirement. That is the kind of thing that recharges me. I love going to dinner or coffee one on one, or just watching TV and doing nothing. Low-key things are best, especially since depressions saps my energy even lower than normal.<br />
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I don't often talk details about depression. We don't talk much about how we feel in my family, and when it comes to my friends I don't want to be the person who is always dragging things down and becoming a burden. It's tough to find a balance of leaning on friends but not pulling them under. I know that depression comes and goes, and it's just going to be part of my life. I hope that people continue to become educated about mental illness so that there won't be a stigma about it. So many people think they know what it's like and they just don't. If we could just love each other and accept that people need to get help in different ways, that would be a huge step forward.****<br />
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*It's so obvious as I write this that I probably have SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). My therapist has been encouraging me for the last few winters to invest in a lightbox. Might be time to start saving up. Also, my cousin Rachel typically footnotes her blogs, and I realized that since I tend to be a lengthy aside person, I should totally do it, too.<br />
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**I hear repeatedly that faith cannot be based on emotion. I don't entirely agree. I think our emotions are tied to our belief, and if our emotions are constantly being dragged down, it can be really hard to believe things that are opposite of how you feel. I don't think there's any simple answer for how to deal with "desert" times.<br />
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***Everyone is different. With all the different personality types and different stages of life, of course depression will look very different for people. This is based on me, personally.<br />
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****Some people need medication to feel better. Some people need extensive therapy. No two people are going to respond to treatment the same way, so it's important not to pressure people away from help they need. I've been in regular counseling since late 2007, and it's helped tremendously. I've tried a bunch of different medications, and while none of them worked for me, I know people who felt better just weeks after starting meds.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-71583968967527285332012-12-03T22:45:00.002-06:002012-12-03T22:46:05.331-06:00Christmas SpiritI am firmly in the camp that says Christmas shall not be celebrated before Thanksgiving. Period end of story. In previous years I've carefully pushed away all my friends' premature Christmas cheer. This year, however, the waiting to celebrate has continued.<br />
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I'm not sure why I'm not really in the Christmasy mood this year. I helped my mom decorate the Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving, and I loved seeing all the handmade ornaments. I haven't put up my own tree. It's actually still in the trunk of my car from when I moved in August. I have zero decorations on display in my apartment. And I doubt I'll get anything up before Christmas actually gets here.<br />
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Tonight I went shopping for an ugly Christmas sweater. I have a church party next week Friday, and if you know me you know I'm gung-ho when it comes to dressing up. I found an amazing outfit, but I bought some extra things to embellish, like 9 yards of sequins (not an exaggeration). I also found a gift for one of my aunts, and I was happy about that because it's so hard figuring out what to buy for people (except my sister, because I always find about a billion things she'd love).<br />
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I think this year Christmas will be less about the outward stuff and more about the little things. I'm excited to give presents to my family. I'm excited to take a whole week off of work and see extended family that I haven't seen since last Christmas. And I am enjoying a little Christmas music now and then. I'm missing my church's big Christmas service because I'll be out of town, and somehow it seems like I'm just missing all the big things I usually do. It's an unintentional change of pace, but I think it might be just what I need right now. This Christmas season I'm focusing on spending time with my friends and family and enjoying the freakishly warm weather.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-24869423151292521592012-10-23T21:08:00.000-05:002012-10-23T21:08:16.005-05:00FogTonight I went to a worship night at church. It was still going when I left, because my attention span starts to short out after an hour or so, but it was really nice to just forget everything else that's going on. A lot of times on Sundays I'm volunteering, so it's times like tonight when I can just focus on God and really immerse myself in the worship.<br />
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It was foggy as I drove home. I recalled hearing that there was a fog advisory on the radio, and as I drove down the road, there were thick patches of fog and then patches where it was clear except for a haze around the street and traffic lights. As I drove across high places, I could see the fog gathering in low spots. And I thought how lovely the fog is, how mysterious, how quiet. I remember once in high school there was such thick fog that you could barely see the building from the student parking lot. Everything sounds different when it's foggy, everything looks softer because of the blurry edges. I have tried once or twice to paint fog, but it eludes me.<br />
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I think fog is a pretty good representation of the presence of the Lord. Sometimes it's thick and practically tangible, sometimes you can't feel it around you but you think you see it far off. Sometimes you notice a haze of it as your gaze wanders. It's not a perfect metaphor, but drifting through the mysterious fog reminded me of the wonderful mysteries of God's presence.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-54097103821736883562012-10-09T16:24:00.000-05:002012-10-09T16:24:08.740-05:00Definitions and MemoriesLast night I was given the (optional) task by my counselor to writing about the topic of feeling like nothing. Vague, broad, and open to my interpretation. So I've been musing over what feelings I associate with the times I have felt like nothing. The words that come to mind first are embarrassed, ashamed, humiliated, and rejected. Not fun words.<br />
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I like to be correct in my language usage. Well, most of the time, anyway. I like to use the exact right word, and I have been known to use a thesaurus while writing in my private journal so that I could be very precise with expressing how I felt. I realized that while we often will ask people to share a time they were embarrassed, we don't usually ask for a story about when someone was humiliated. I decided to look up the definitions to see what nuanced differences there were.<br />
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According to dictionary.com, "embarrass" has a few meanings, the one I think most common is "to make uncomfortably self-conscious." "Humiliate" means "to cause (a person) a painful loss of pride, self-respect, or dignity."<br />
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Whenever I'm asked to recount an embarrassing story, I struggle to remember something. It's not that I haven't been embarrassed, it's just that in the grand scheme of things, they don't stick out. However, I can remember in painful detail times when I felt humiliated. I don't mind the times I've blurted out stupid things or when a friend teases me and I know they're only teasing. I don't even mind the time I threw up all over the floor in college in front of someone right outside our classroom. People understand that. People understand that sometimes things aren't in your control. The things that hurt? It's the times when I felt people were judging me and finding me "less-than." It's those times, when you feel like people are laughing behind your back, when people look down on you, that are the ones that you remember. And you remember the feelings that go with it.<br />
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I don't really have a point to this, I guess. Just thinking about how it's the things where you felt strong emotions that you remember the most. Unfortunately for me, it tends to be the negative emotional events that I remember with more frequency than the positive things. So I make it a point to remind myself about the people who care about me, about the nights when I'm up late with friends laughing so hard I can't breathe. At this point in my life, I've reached a period of stability. Now I want to work on those deep, icky things that were too hard to work on when just everyday stuff felt hard. It's not fun to dredge through that stuff, but I think it's really important to deal with your baggage so that it doesn't follow you around your whole life.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-52104672631050954812012-09-26T00:56:00.000-05:002012-09-26T09:11:36.773-05:00Why arguing is never going to save someoneI am an external processor. I think best when I'm talking, which means that more often than is probably acceptable to admit, I end up talking to myself. I can make better sense of my thoughts when I say them out loud. Sometimes that makes journaling or blogging hard, because I can't organize my thoughts as well if I don't talk it out, but once I talk it out, I don't feel the need to write things down as much. Tonight I had a great conversation with a friend, and I wanted to write down some of the thoughts that came out.<br />
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I'm not sure it would be entirely accurate to call me a skeptic. I think it would be more fair to say that while I do have some firm beliefs, I also have a lot of questions. I used to feel really frustrated and sometimes guilty that I had all these questions but no satisfactory answers. Lately I've come to a place of being at peace even when I don't have the concrete answers I'd like.<br />
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Tonight I went with a few friends to a showing of a documentary called "Hellbound?" It was basically a look at some of the different schools of thought on hell. Three main schools of thought were shared: eternal torment, annihilation, and universalism, although annihilation was touched upon only briefly. I found it fascinating to watch people talk about their different views, the different ways the Church has viewed hell throughout history, and the different cultural and political aspects of power. It was a well-filmed documentary, and I think it's a great conversation starter. Here are some of my thoughts after watching the documentary and a Q & A with the director (Kevin Miller) and one of the interviewees (Greg Boyd).<br />
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I kept thinking about how my pastor quotes a verse from Romans 2 about how it is kindness that leads to repentance. People don't change their lives because someone tells them how horrible they are. I know that some people will pray for salvation out of fear, but I don't think true transformation occurs when people are just looking for fire insurance (a safeguard against hell).<br />
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There are so many things I don't know. When I was younger, it really freaked me out when my black and white world started to crumble. In college my experience of the world didn't line up with some of the things I'd always believed, and it created great cognitive dissonance. I didn't know how to believe that God loved me and had a plan for me when life was so hard, so painful. I had so many questions and no answers, and I felt guilty that I even had questions.<br />
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Over the last year, and particularly the last six months, my faith has matured and deepened, and I think that is in large part due to a shift in how I view the questions I have. I feel free to ask questions and admit that maybe I'm wrong. I used to think that if a non-Christian friend asked me a tough question and I didn't have a definitive answer, it would turn them away from God and it would be my fault if they went to hell. I used to get genuinely panicked at the thought of trying to save all my friends and family from hell, because if it was real and it was awful, I had to save them, and of course it was my job to save them. All I knew how to do was argue that I was right about heaven and Jesus. But arguments don't save people. Judging people doesn't save them. Why would they want to enter into a religion that is largely known for judging and condemning people?<br />
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Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love God with everything you have and to love your neighbor. If I think about that in the big picture, I feel so free. All I have to do is love Jesus the best way I know how, to learn and grow and seek him, and then love the people around me. Treat them kindly; offer them help and support. Really, if all Christians stopped fighting about the details and just started loving people, don't you think the world would be a different place? When I think about the hot-button sin topics of today, I wonder if those are really the things that matter. If we stopped looking at certain sins like we're looking through a telescope and instead took a step back and looked for ways to love each other, wouldn't that be an amazing place to live? I'm not perfect. Far from it. And even though I've grown a lot, I'm never going to achieve perfection. So why do I expect other people to achieve something that I can't? Why is there an expectation of instant perfection instead of valuing the process and journey? Maybe it's enough if someone loves Jesus and tries their best to follow Him. We're never going to agree on the perfect list of things you have to do and say or not do or say in order to get to heaven, because that's not how grace works. If we're all works in progress, why don't we stop nitpicking the journey some people end up taking as long as they're walking towards Jesus? Maybe if we walked with them for a bit, we'd see how hard their walk is and appreciate that they're doing their best.<br />
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I have discovered that I love reading Rachel Held Evans' blog (www.rachelheldevans.com). Some of the things she writes or links to are uncomfortable. I don't agree with everything. But she's not afraid to ask tough questions, to ask that we read the Bible for what it is, not what we want it to be. Even when her views seem controversial against the mostly conservative views with which I'm accustomed, she treats people with dignity and respect. The comments from her readers spark discussion and thought, and I've learned that I do not have to agree with every point of a person's theology in order to respect them as a human being. I don't have to be definitively right about everything. When I enter into a conversation and I'm not put on the defensive right away, there is room for me to truly listen and reflect. Reading opinions that differ from mine has helped me to explore if my beliefs are based on things I've been told to believe or things I've read and discerned for myself. I actually found myself feeling more respected and elevated as a woman and as a person after I allowed myself to discard some beliefs I'd had simply because that's all I knew growing up.<br />
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I hope that I continue to ponder some of the questions and issues that have popped up lately. I want to be open to the possibility that other people might have insight where I do not, and I want to continue to learn to love people whether they agree with me or not. If I really trust God, then I want to trust that He is in control and doesn't need me to run the world for Him.Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4412767287822235401.post-44186575127755600312012-08-17T12:35:00.002-05:002012-08-17T12:35:48.388-05:00Move in together? Here's why I say no.I don't think people should live together before they get married. Yes, my first reason is because of my faith, but after that comes a slew of statistics about why living together before marriage really isn't the great idea we're lead to believe it is.<br />
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A recent example from my life: I've been staying with various friends since I had a bed bug scare, and one of them told me the futon on her porch was already made up because a friend had gone through a bad breakup and needed a place to stay. I found out that I knew this friend, and it's the sort of thing where they really should have broken up a few years ago, but it wasn't financially possible because at the time one of them was a freelancer and wasn't making a lot of money. She stayed in a relationship largely because she couldn't move out.<br />
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People will make whatever choices they want, and that's their right. Someone I care a lot about recently made the decision to move in with the significant other, and I'm not happy about it. I still love that person and won't behave any differently, but it makes me sad that people don't know the facts. Moving in will not fix a relationship. It won't change the problems. And the statistics show that it's not beneficial in the long run (higher chance of domestic abuse, less satisfaction sexually, among other things).<br />
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Maybe you're not religious at all. I don't expect the fact that it's not God's ideal to mean anything to you if you don't follow God. I would just say to do some research. Check out some studies and educate yourself. Popular society (media, especially) is wrong.<br />
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(I'm not looking at any stats as I write this, but I've seen them footnoted in a book I read recently. If you're interested in more info, I can dig out the book and look up the info.)Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13457932333672643926noreply@blogger.com