Unzip

I actually braved the rain to go to church last week.  It’s not like it was torrential rain, but lately any little thing has become an excuse not to go.  I parked and got out and the church bells were ringing.  That was unexpected.  Do you know how long it’s been since I went to a church that had church bells?  Like forever.  I never have.  It was my first time at this church, and I liked the bells ringing, calling people to worship.  I felt like this was about to be special.

When I got to the door, a chipper little man greeted me with a hug.  He said, “Are you a professor?”  Taken aback, I said, “No. I’m a grad student.”  And then he said, “You look like a professor.”  And instantly I flashed back to my childhood…a family friend had nicknamed me “The Professor” when I was four years old. And now I was standing at the church entrance, wondering if this man’s greeting was in any way prophetic.  The sanctuary was beautiful. Large, serene, warm.  Warm woods and reds and lights in just the right places.

The service started and I was in that typical “first-time-visitor fog”.  Not sure when to stand during the liturgy. Not sure if they clap.  Not sure what to say out loud and when.  (The bulletin helped a lot though).  I didn’t mind the fog.  The congregants didn’t seem to mind or pay any attention.  I enjoyed it.  It was like…being in a secret hideout where there was beauty and peace and truth.  One of my favorite parts was when we corporately confessed our sins and then, after silent private confession, the minister pronounced Jesus’s forgiveness of our sins.  I felt a tingly, goosebump sensation all over as the words came from his mouth. I remember thinking, “God is here.  Forgiveness is real.”  I felt differently after that.  We took communion.  And for a few moments in my crazy life, I felt burdens lifted off of me.

I liked that place.  I stick out like a sore thumb.  I’m probably 25 years younger than the average congregant, and I’m the lone chocolate sprinkle in that bowl of vanilla ice cream.  But I like that place, so I went back today.  Today, it wasn’t as…moving as it was last week.  But then, I wasn’t nearly as tired last week as I am today.  Saturday night can really mess you up on Sunday morning. Ha.  But today I felt my heart unzip. Just a wee bit. Letting God back in to where He’s already been.

The Public and Private of Walking with God

Photo from fineartamerica.com

My friend was telling me the other day about how she needs to cultivate a prayer life and quiet times with God, etc.  I joked that if we could combine our lives, we’d be really spiritually fit.  We each lack what the other has.  I lack community, accountability, and Christian fellowship.

It’s true that our spiritual lives have two domains: the public and the private.  If you just have the public, your spiritual life can lack revelation, depth, and intimacy with God.  If you just have the private, your spiritual life can lack correction, challenge, and the comfort of the family of God.  I feel like I’m walking around in a raincoat but with no umbrella over me, no spiritual covering.  And she is walking around with an umbrella but no raincoat.  We’re both getting wet.

I Met a Buddhist Monk

I was driving through town on my way to who-knows-where. I sat at a red light, daydreaming and waiting for my turn to go. And then I saw him. This boy standing on the corner diagonal from me. He looked about 15 years old. He was bald and barefoot and waving at everyone that passed by. But it wasn’t just waving. It was like the most exuberant waving I’ve ever seen. He nearly put his whole body into it! And he had this big goofy smile. My eyes were fixed on him. I was puzzled by his appearance and his behavior. The light turned green and I drove away.

A few days later, I went out to lunch with a friend on the Square. After lunch, we decided to stroll through the Square and find some place to get dessert. And there he was. Sitting outside my favorite coffee hangout. He sat alone at a sidewalk table with his legs folded in the chair, eating a sandwich. As we passed by, his face lit up and he waved at us and smiled. I whispered to my friend, "That’s him! That’s the dude I saw on the corner a few days ago! I can’t figure out what his deal is." We settled on a place for dessert and went inside. We were the only patrons there and picked a table by the window. We shared a tres leches cheesecake and while we were eating, he opened the door to the restaurant. He stuck his head and waved at the waitress. Then we watched him pass by our window. I was drawn to the mystery of him. The waitress asked us if we knew about him. Then she explained that he’s a Buddhist monk that goes to school here. Hmmm…

The next Wednesday, I was sitting in my Women’s Studies class and we were talking about motherhood. My professor dismissed us for a break and I wandered through the Philosophy building. And then I saw him! He was sitting in a room reading by himself. I was surprised and curious and felt compelled to say something, but he seemed to be a man of few words. What do you say to a Buddhist monk that you keep randomly seeing around town? So I opened the door to the room and said hello. He had his back to me. He turned around smiled and waved. And I stood halfway in the door smiling back. And then I left. I took a few steps down the hallway and realized I wanted to say more…I wanted him to say more. So I opened the door again and said, "I saw you last week by the coffee place!" He smiled and nodded. He put his hands over his heart and warmly said, "I love you." I didn’t really know what to say! "I love you too" didn’t seem right. So I froze and just smiled, and then I said, "Good to see you," and left.

He’s been on my mind, this Buddhist monk. I am perplexed. He has so much joy and warmth and love. He’s so friendly and free. I am blown away. I think I’m inspired. And then I wonder…

I have Jesus. But I do not have joy like that. I have Jesus. But I do not love freely like that. I have Jesus. But I do not delight in people like that. What does he have that I don’t have? How is it that I have within me the greatest gift of all but do not have joy and love like he has? Is the Buddhist monk putting me to shame? Do I not truly have what I thought I had? Or maybe I have it but the world has weighed down my heart?

He wears a loose tunic and pants and no shoes. He carries a case with an instrument in it wherever he goes. He is an enigma to me. I want to know. I want to know his story. I want to know his heart. When I see his heart, I see my own. And I realize how far away I am from the person I would like to be.

Squeaky Car

I hope I marry a man that knows a lot about cars.
…I hope I get married.
I hope somebody somewhere finds me attractive enough to marry me.

And I need to take my car to the shop. It’s squeaking like crazy.

Quarter-Life Crisis

I will be 25 in about 4 months.

I have not had a “real” job.

I have not had a serious relationship.

Great.

The End is Near

Yes, I mean for that to sound apocalyptic. This is a big deal. (Not really.) But it seems the better days of this blog are now behind me. I’ll save the melodrama of a grandiose "goodbye" as I shut this thing down…because the reality is, I’m not going to shut it down, and I’ll probably still post entries. They will just be fewer and farther between (already a trend as of late).

My walk with the Lord needs work. Right now, it’s more like a limp with the Lord. It’s frustrating. I’m frustrated. I am far. I find it hard to reconcile the fact that God IS faithful with the fact that God seems inattentive to my needs and petitions in prayer. I don’t have a church. I don’t read the Word. I don’t DO this life. I work too hard, drink away my feelings, lack an enriching social life. I struggle in isolation and desperation. These issues of my heart. I told God the other day that He is going to have to come for me, because I’m tired of striving and struggling. I’m not moving.

It really is just too tiring to think about it.

Church Performance…and Stuff

I’m sick of churches that treat worship services like a theatrical performance.  And I am, likewise, sick of churches that pay no mind to aesthetics.  Guess I’m hard to please.

And now for the “and Stuff”…
I have silent struggles and no one to turn to.

Interior Design

I’ve been trying to make my house a home.

My last apartment was minimally decorated (and even that wasn’t my doing).  It didn’t feel homey and warm.  It was not a sanctuary.  I promised myself that I would make my new apartment a true home.  And that means hang things on the walls, get some area rugs, curtains, pretty vases and flowers, and whatnot.  I now have a dining table, which I went a whole year without in my last apartment.  It’s going to be different this time.  I’m going to beautify and enjoy my home.

But right now, it’s a hot mess.

A few boxes still linger while I try to find a home for their contents.  The walls are still bare while I try to catch a vision (and a sale) for what I want on them.  It’s not what I want it to be yet.  And it could take a while.

And it occurred to me this morning that my life is in a similar state of affairs.  It seems God is doing some interior design on me.  I’ve been functional but not beautiful.  Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary…

Holiness is Hard

Really, it is.

Captivating, Femininity, and Gender

This is one of those peculiar times when several experiences in my life are constellating around the same theme. And it goes a lil’ somethin’ like this…

I am currently taking a class called Images of Women ( a philosophy/women’s studies class).  I am currently taking a Gender & Communication class.  I am currently listening to Mark Driscoll’s sermon series (from a while ago) entitled “Peasant Princess”. The series is on the book of the Song of Songs and is about marital romance, but has a lot to say about femininity/masculinity.  And I recently (like two days ago) started reading Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge.  It’s like a sudden onslaught of all things gender-related!  Truthfully, I am enjoying all of these experiences so far.   They have been compartmentalized thus far, but that will soon change.

All of this will cause me to wrestle with issues of gender and femininity.  (This will not be the first wrestling match of this sort.)  The spiritual, the biblical, the philosophical, the social, the intellectual, and the personal.  Especially the personal.  I think it will be impossible to talk about this theme from all these different angles without stopping–even if only subconsciously–to evaluate myself.  Do I meet the social expectations for femininity?  I already know that, in many ways, I do not.  But what is femininity anyway?  Is it appearance-based?  Does it have something to do with the heart?  Is it purely a social construction?  And I can feel the tension between the deeply spiritual and the profoundly sociological.  Some ideas resonate with me.  Others repel me.

When I was little, my mom dressed me in cute little dresses and bows and frilly and lace and pretty and… all of that. And I didn’t mind. Then I went through a tomboy phase.  And now I have landed somewhere in between those two. But the feminine aspect of my identity is often challenged with comments like: 
“How come you don’t wear make-up?”
“Do you even know how to walk in high heels?”
“Why’d you cut your hair short?  Don’t you want a boyfriend?”
“What?!  You don’t want kids?  How could you not want kids?”
And so forth.

I feel like I have accidentally embarked on a quest to discover what it means to be a woman.  And the quest will be both scholastic and  personal.