Tuesday, August 16, 2011

lining up.

 Yesterday, author Shauna Niequist posted this question on her blog:

“What’s present in your life today that’s not in line with what you want for tomorrow?”

And I thought: Oh, dear.

Because unlike a lot of people, I think I know exactly what’s in my life today that I hope won’t be there down the road.

The problem is that I’m not entirely sure how to eliminate these “nonessentials,” these things that I know I don’t want roaming around my life long-term, but that have somehow followed me around for months and years.

Really — and here is what I hate admitting publicly but which I know very well to be true — I hate saying no.

You have no idea how badly I don’t want to be that person: that “yes man,” the girl who says yes to activities and commitments and phone calls and church functions and leadership roles, all under the guise that it’s purposeful and meaningful and wonderful.

But I do it anyway.

Just last week, I received an invitation to attend a “spa party” (read: Tupperware party for bath products) at an elderly woman’s home. The woman attends my church, and although I had no desire to go — and in fact, had other plans already set in stone — I still felt ridiculously guilty for missing it. I had visions of the woman looking wistfully out her window, glancing fretfully at the clock, waiting for guests to show up. I just knew I had let her down. (This is, I recognize, completely irrational and bordering on insane.)

When did the definition of a full life become synonymous with a busy one?

Because I want a full life. A life with sweet friendships and good food and the care of orphans and widows. I want to commune with believers and reach out to the hurt and hungry. I want a life full of laughter and tears, loving family, and a quiet and peaceful home. I want an out-of-this-world relationship with my husband and an intimate understanding of who the Father is and who He wants me to be.

Why do I think that any of that would require a list of things to do?

Here is what I know: Lately, I do not want to answer my phone. I ignore texts and calls and emails, because I feel like if I do one more thing for one more person, I will implode on myself like a dying star (Office reference? Anyone?).

In the meantime, I go to bed too late and wake up too tired. The simple life I long for disappears behind a cloud of commitments, and I wonder: How on earth did this happen?

For years, I have been the girl who could juggle it all. In high school, I balanced numerous activities that I loved. In college, I did the same, maybe more. I only experienced a handful of meltdowns, and I look back on those years with little to no regret.

But just because someone can do something, does that mean they should?

Just because I’m good at juggling it all doesn’t mean I should add more balls to the mix, does it?

Because right now — in the essence of full disclosure — here is what my life looks like. (I’ve included Jordan’s activities on here too, since, let’s face it, we’re in this thing together.)

Supper club
Book club
Friendships
Adopt-a-Student program
Monthly activities for college students
Church website
Teaching on “Faith Lane,” our church’s children’s ministry
Friendspeak, a Spanish-speaking ministry Jordan runs
Blog
Full-time job
Graphic design projects
Wedding planning
Flag football (this is Jordan’s)
Small group Bible study

You may not know me very well, but surely you know this: 14 activities do not a simple life make.

A full life does not necessarily mean a busy one, and I am tired of buying the lie that it does.

I want to protect my life and my marriage from these activities that masquerade as callings and purposes.

One glance at that list, and I know what needs to go, what must be removed if I really truly want a full but simple and purposeful and meaningful life.

Unfortunately, the tricky part is actually saying no. Risking hurt and frustration from the people I have to tell. Because there’s another thing I’m learning as adulthood marches on: Most people like being miserable. And they want you to be miserable too. Everyone likes complaining about how busy they are. We like comparing full calendars and moaning about never having time for a vacation. It’s easier, I think, to pretend our life is full than to actually take steps in that direction.

I’m ready to stop. I’ve said this before, but as I look again at that list of commitments, I realize that I’ve failed. I haven’t worked hard enough at maintaining a balance, at living simply and creatively. I’ve become tired and stressed and overwhelmed, and the answer isn’t a multivitamin. It’s to quit.

Quitting is hard for me. But if I want the life I’ve always dreamed of, I’ve got to take the steps to make it happen.

For now, that’s going to mean saying no. It’s going to mean settling down, seeking refuge in my home. It’s going to mean placing the Father at the top of my list and His work — or rather, what I’ve confused for His work — at the bottom.

Wish me luck.

"He has showed you what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? 
To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."
- Micah 6:8

* print by Kal Barteski, available here

Monday, August 15, 2011

renovation.

  “A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.” 
– Joan Didion

Sometimes I wonder why spiritual growth is painful, why it comes and goes like waves, why my awareness of the presence of an all-knowing Creator and loving Father is so often determined by the people and places that surround me.

My heart both bursts full and quietly hurts, and I wonder: Why?

Imagine my surprise, then, when the answer came, not out of Scripture, but out of an obscure quote -- undoubtedly taken out of context -- placed in Country Living magazine.

Don't get me wrong: I love Joan Didion and Country Living magazine (though, hey, I never expected to reference the two in the same sentence). I just never thought they would remind me of an oft-forgotten theological truth.

The spiritual growth process is painful because it's not always what the heart wants.

If my heart belonged to me, I'm sorry to say I would have turned in the towel a long time ago.

Instead, through this process of wrenching and shaping, loving and remaking, my heart is someone else's. 

Just like an old home belongs to whoever takes the time to mold it and cherish it, refurbish it and love it, my heart belongs to the one who treats me the same way, who takes me on as His own personal labor of love.

And I withhold and clench my fists and stubbornly shake my head, insistent that my way is better, that I know the plans I have for myself, and that, at the very least, I am comfortable right where I am.

It's an interesting concept, that my heart, like a dilapidated old shack, needs serious help before it can become a hospitable host for the Spirit that belongs there.

And I'm reminded that with all the hearts out there to care for, to shape, and to love, He chose mine.

He chose me.

When Jordan and I one day plunk down the cash for our first home, it will be because we searched and we traveled and we thought and we calculated and we knew: This is the one for us.

I think sometimes that must be the most appealing part of reformed theology, the idea that God hand-selected and chose you out of the crowd. There was a song, popular on Christian radio when I was in high school, that talked about being one in a million faces. And I love this idea that God may have picked me out of the masses, designed and created me for a unique purpose, then saved me from myself.

Some days, it's a painful process. But I'm comforted by the fact that He loves me. He remembers me most obsessively. And His goal, every day, is to transform me into a more beautiful creation, a unique soul designed in His image.

* image of Caitlin's home, via DesignSponge

Friday, August 12, 2011

for the girls. (and it's a doozy.)

(Publication note: Since I wrote this post on Wednesday, social media has really gone crazy over this entire issue, in part because of Rachel Held Evan's response here. I seriously considered not publishing my own response due to the rather controversial nature of the discussion -- and the semi-nasty comments people seem really keen on throwing around. I asked myself if my words were grace-filled and intent on healing. I edited, and edited some more. I sought advice from those I consider wise. And I thought about the girls I know. And I hit publish.)

 Kiss me, kiss me/Infect me with your love and/Fill me with your poison/Take me, take me/
Wanna be a victim/Ready for abduction.

- Katy Perry, “Extraterrestrial”

Guys, you know I love Donald Miller, right?

Because I do. I really, really do. Blue Like Jazz rocked my world, and A Million Miles in a Thousand Years changed my life.

But if I hear one more man telling a woman how to live her life of singlehood, I am going to scream, not because men don’t really know a woman’s heart and therefore their advice is inherently bad, but because the advice they so often offer isn’t constructive. Instead, it’s contributing to diminished self-worth and increased insecurity.

In case you have no idea what I’m talking about, here’s a (somewhat brief) recap.

Last week, Donald Miller posted a two-part series about living a great love story on his blog. Since One Million Miles, Miller has devoted a lot of time and effort into this idea of living our lives like a story; it’s a concept I really appreciate and value. And, since becoming engaged a couple of months ago, Miller has also begun to turn his attention to dating and marriage, writing a few posts on the subject. It makes sense to me that he’d combine the two.

But just a few paragraphs into Miller’s first post in the series, “How to live a Great Love Story, Vol. 1 (For the Girls),” I was a little turned-off. I stopped reading. It’s not that what I had read was super offensive; I just felt like it didn’t really apply to me anymore. I’m married. The dating phase of my life is over. I’m moving on.

So I stopped reading, ignored part II, and went about my merry way.

Then my Twitter account kind of blew up with responses to his posts.

Apparently, people were ticked.

I went back and re-read, and honestly? I could see why some people were upset.

Here’s the thing: Lately, I’ve come across a lot of broken Christian women.

It’s nothing new, I know.

I taught and mentored teenage girls for three years — and have successfully been a girl for a little over 25 years — so I know: the soul of a girl is a fragile thing.

But now that I’m meeting women well into their 20s and older who are still hurting, confused, and insecure, I’m realizing yet again how much we (the church, society, you name it) are failing our girls.

Absolutely failing.

Maybe that’s why, according to a recent study by the Barna Group, so many women have stopped going to church.

Maybe we’ve hurt them so badly that the damage can’t be undone, and instead of fleeing to, they are fleeing from churches in droves, because deep down, they know: This is not how it’s supposed to be.

In his post directed to girls, Donald Miller writes that there are five principles to a good love story:

Boy meets girl.

Boy falls in love with girl.

Girl is a bit hesitant knowing her heart is tender and could get hurt.

Boy proves himself strong enough to handle and defend her heart.

Girl trusts boy and they live happily ever after.

---

If you’re a boy, you’re probably thinking, yep. Sounds about right.

If you’re a girl, maybe you’re thinking, wait… what?

Look, I’ve read the books. (I’ve also chucked some across the room — that means you, I Kissed Dating Goodbye.) I know that as a woman, I was not created to pursue man. (Although, can I just say for a quick minute: Isn’t that exactly what Ruth did? Okay. Moving on.) Instead, I was designed to be pursued.

Fine.

But here’s where I think I lose a lot of Christian writers (male and female, by the way): What’s a girl supposed to do while she’s out “not pursuing” a man?

If Miller and other writers are correct, a girl is supposed to wait and trust until she finds the boy that’s “strong enough to handle and defend her heart.” In other words, the role she plays in her love story is almost entirely passive.

There are a lot of problems with that ideology, but here’s one: No man is strong enough to handle and defend your heart.

Almost a year ago, I taught a class on dating to the high school girls at my church. It was a really humbling, awesome experience. Looking back, I wish I’d been able to say more, because, guess what? Girls are getting the wrong message.

They’re being taught — sadly, if they’re being taught anything about dating at all — that somewhere out there is a man who can guard and protect their heart. (Sidenote: Is anyone else having flashbacks to Kasey from Ali’s season of the Bachelorette? Just me? Okay.)

I’ll tell you what I told the teenage girls at my church: No one can protect your heart but you and the God who created you.

Unfortunately, I don’t really think Christian pastors, authors, and teachers stop with that one misguided principle.

In his post, Miller goes on to offer a few suggestions for what women can do to live a great love story. They’re not groundbreaking principles; in fact, they’re mostly recommendations I’ve heard before. Things like “don’t hook up,” “make him work for it,” and “weed them out.”

I understand that women — and men, for that matter — should be reminded of the principles of purity, that promoting abstinence is a way of telling girls that their bodies are important and valuable, worthy of protection. The problem is that this is about the extent of what we (the church, in particular) tell our girls about sex and relationships. If they can just protect their physical bodies, they’ll be fine. Their hearts will be safe. I hope you’re shaking your heads right now, because surely you know: Intimacy can be had outside of sex. My heart breaks for girls — and their parents! — who think their girls are safe from bad men simply because they haven’t gone to bed with them. Meanwhile, they’ve given their hearts away. They’ve talked intimately about marriage and shared their deepest secrets. Without giving away their bodies, they’ve given away their souls.

What it boils down to, I think, is a woman’s self-worth, and I know plenty of virgin Christian women who have a self-worth of about zero.

Girls are being taught — by society, Disney movies, church — that their role in a love story is inactive and submissive, that we’re all supposed to behave like Rapunzel, waiting for just the right guy before we can let down our hair. Unlike so many of our Biblical counterparts, we’re told to wait, to sit back and have faith that our happy ending will come true. In the meantime, up in our castles, we should, according to Miller, “be willing to suffer.”

Miller writes, “What this means for you is that your love story needs to have a lot of lonely crying in it. Believe it or not, there will come a day when a man will fall madly in love with you, and you will have the honor of sitting down with him one special night to explain that, while you weren’t perfect, you turned down plenty of guys and cried yourself to sleep hoping somebody would come around and treat you with respect. He will be honored by this, and he will love you and feel humbled. If he doesn’t have the same story, he will feel intensely convicted and unworthy. You’ll really be giving him the foundation he needs to love your heart.”

I feel like I know guys pretty well. I have a husband, and I have a brother. I’ve got a great dad and a slew of uncles. In college, I had quite a few “guy friends.” In all of my conversations with them — and I feel like I’ve had some good ones — not one of them asked me if I’d ever cried myself to sleep over a guy. (The answer, by the way, would have been no.)

My parents did not raise me to cry over disrespectful, “unworthy” men.

They raised me to have more self-worth than that.

Did a guy ever hurt my feelings? You bet. Did a guy ever say things that haunted me for days that followed? Sure.

But this idea that in order to have a decent love story, you’ve got to suffer? You’ve got to let your heart be dragged through the mud, beaten up by men who don’t respect or care about your well-being?

I just don’t think it’s true.

And, as my husband reminded me, most girls don’t need to be told to cry themselves to sleep at night. Many of them already do. They’re lonely, and their hearts are aching, and the last message they should be hearing is one that condones the heartbreak. One that tells them their hearts might need to be torn in two just a few more times before it’s finally ready for “the one” who will make it all go away.

Girls instead need to be reminded of the strength they possess through the Father. In their singlehood — and, for that matter, in their marriages — women are capable of greatness. But in their admonitions to wait, evangelical leaders fail to mention that women can and should be pursuing their own adventures. Rarely is there talk of mission work, of prayer, of surrounding yourself with like-minded, loving friends, of experiencing nature and finding God in the quiet. Meanwhile, I think men are often encouraged to pursue these things prior to marriage. Can’t girls have that same luxury?

Traditional, societal feminism often teaches that women can do it all on their own, while modern evangelical thought tells us that women can’t do much without a man (and, in fairness, that man can’t do much without woman. The two are incomplete without each other, a thought in complete conflict with the oft-misquoted I Corinthians 7). The idea behind Christian feminism, I think, is that women simply cannot do it alone, but it is not man that fulfills. It is Christ.

This is why our girls are confused. We’ve got a feminist society that tells our girls to be strong and bold and brave, all while Katy Perry is singing on the radio about wanting to be a “victim” of some kind of alien love. (Have you ever listened to what’s on the radio? Really listened? No wonder our girls are broken. The world isn’t doing any better job of raising our daughters than the church is.)

We tell our girls we want them to grow up to be creative, loving, kind, courageous individuals, but we suck the individuality right out of them. We tell them we want them to go do great things, but then we tell them if they want a husband, they better just wait patiently. We want them to be strong, but at the same time, hey, not too strong, because that’s intimidating. But, wait a second, not so weak, because then men will just treat you like a victim.

My heart is heavy over the number of women I know who have bought into these lies, and the number of little girls who are destined to follow suit.

This love story that Miller and others describe doesn’t sound that great to me. It doesn’t give the strong, bold, beautiful girls I know anything to do. It locks them up in their castles, journaling and crying until their prince shows up at the window, ready to save them.

It leaves the girls I know and love with a low self-worth, with the belief that they’ve just got to sit, suffer, and wait until their life can really begin.

One day, if Jordan and I ever have a little girl, I want her to know that she is so much more than a victim. More than a princess. More than a future wife and mother.

She is beautiful proof of an all-knowing and loving Creator, designed for her own separate and unique purpose.

And if she gets to live an earthly love story with a righteous man? Well, that will just be icing on the cake.

 {photo by Darcy Hemley}

Thursday, August 11, 2011

inspired week 40.


"Love of music, of sunsets and sea; a liking for the same kind of people; political opinions that are not radically divergent; a similar stance as we look at the stars and think of the marvelous strangeness of the universe - these are what build a marriage. And it is never to be taken for granted."

- Madeleine L'Engle

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

i heart leslie knope.


Guys, some days I just wish I worked for Leslie Knope.

A few weeks ago, we got a free trial for Netflix (I know, I know… We’re so 2005), and while we actually haven’t found that many movies we’re interested in (seriously, what’s the deal? Everything we want to watch is DVD-only. Someone please explain this to me), we decided to give Parks and Recreation a try.

We finished two seasons in six days.

In other words, we’re hooked — and in desperate need of season three.

Let me explain: We’re huge fans of The Office over here. Huge. We could probably quote you seasons one through three in their entirety. But I think we’ve both found a new favorite — or at least a replacement for when we’ve run out of the Office seasons we keep on rotation.

There’s something just so absolutely fabulous about Leslie Knope, her naiveté, her passion, her eternal optimism…  Amy Poehler’s uncanny ability to deliver the perfectly quirky line with an equally-perfect straight face. Jordan has even said — more than once — that Poehler is our generation’s Lucille Ball. (And Jordan takes his TV Land programming quite seriously, so I assure you: He does not mean this lightly.)

I love how Leslie cares for her employees, how she sees her job as more than just an hourly wage. She really loves what she does, and she wants it to make a difference. I wish real life were a bit more like that sometimes.

Leslie Knope, you’re my hero.

---

P.S. – How great is this quote from Amy Poehler: “I get worried for young girls sometimes; I want them to feel that they can be sassy and full and weird and geeky and smart and independent, and not so withered and shriveled.” Amen. Maybe Amy Poehler is my hero too.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

cabin dwelling.


As I struggle to remember that there is purpose in the passing of seasons (even this one, full of 100 degree temperatures and late afternoon thunderstorms), I find myself dreaming of fall. But not fall in Florida, which doesn't typically hit until mid-November, late October if we're lucky. Fall in a farmhouse in the mountains, surrounded by autumn leaves and babbling brooks, mornings spent padding around in cozy slippers and plaid blankets, moving slowly in a tiny town where the produce man knows my order by heart and where my cell phone simply does not get service. 

For some reason, these pictures take me there, to that imagined cabin in the woods, to the life I dream about when my eyes are closed.

I have so many dreams floating around in my head for the future I want with Jordan, for the married life I want us to create one day. I'll admit: Some days I picture us living by the sea, hosting backyard parties and commuting inland for work, grateful for our island reprieve when each day comes to a close. Lately, though, my imagination has been wandering farther north, to a small vegetable garden, cold temperatures, quiet evenings, and wood-burning stoves. A place where the seasons arrive suddenly, overtaking your senses while cuddled beneath blankets with the TV turned off, a good book in hand.