Genes, Jeans and Jesus

Yesterday I did an interesting little experiment. I decided to go out in old, not-stylish jeans. They were a pair of old Levis that I think I got at a garage sale 2 or 3 years ago for seventy-five cents.

I know. I'll just wait while you all regain your breath and get over your shock. Yes, I'm kidding about the shock. Not about the ugly jeans. I really wore those.

It sounds like a hardly significant thing to have done, let alone write about. But I noticed a whole mess of things flair up in myself as a result. My insecurities about my body were absolutely magnified. It was completely ridiculous. I'm pretty sure I was the same person in those jeans that I was the day before (or, ahem, today), but it was as though I couldn't stop thinking about every physical insecurity that I have. My hair. My arms. My back. Just to name a few. (And no, there isn't a logical reason why wearing a stupid pair of jeans should make me second-guess my HAIRSTYLE. And no, I don't have hair on my arms and my back. That was just a random order.)

Really, I'm not writing this so that people will say, "OH GIRRRL-- YOU'RE GORGEOUS! JUST BE CONFIDENT IN WHO YOU ARE 'CUZ ALL WOMEN ARE BEAUTIFUL!" or something equally lame. And I only say that it's lame because it's the automatic response and doesn't take into account what's behind the insecurities. And, I'm not that passive-aggressive.

I was thinking-- in countries where they have (or have had) very traditional styles of dress, do you think that women wonder, "Does this sari make my arms look fat?" Or how about colonial life pre-TV? Did the ladies put on their aprons wondering if it made their butts look big?

I'm going to step aside from my questions about the evolution of the Western female psyche for just a moment to say that I'm not against capitalism or free enterprise. Companies can make what they want (so long as it's not bringing harm to others) and if there's a demand for it-- go ahead and make some money. Land of opportunity and all that. My question is this: where is the line between being fine with free enterprise and somehow letting commercialism tell me who/what I'm supposed to be? I'm also wondering today if our commercial freedom has come at the expense of rational thought that cares for our fellow man.

"You could be THIS..."
"You would be better if you had THIS..."
"You would be content if you looked like THIS..."
"You can't enjoy who you are until your life looks like THIS..."

So, the Bible says that as followers of Jesus we're to be in the world (not isolating ourselves), but we're not supposed to be of the world (our values aren't to be determined in the same way, and we should look/sound different from those around us). Jesus prayed that for us in John 17:13-17. And, I know that my identity is supposed to be firmly rooted in Jesus--and for the most part, truly it is. I know that God looks down on me and instead of my tragically insufficient sinful self (true story, y'all), God sees Jesus' righteousness. And that should be enough.

And, what's more, I have a husband who tells me that he sees me as beautiful. I believe him, too. So why am I so bothered?

The Bible also says that we should think of others as more important than ourselves and not be a stumbling block to anyone (Philippians 2:3, Romans 14:13). Wouldn't it be cool if others in the world lived like that? Wouldn't the porn industry dry up? Wouldn't it be awesome if the people who were hired to airbrush those ads for magazines and billboards said, "Wow-- if I make that already dreadfully thin model look even skinnier and completely flawless in a way that she actually isn't, maybe it'll be really difficult for girls to accept their own bodies..." Maybe the girl walking by that has a flawless figure would care about the men around her and their reactions that they cannot help and would try to avoid showing more of their body than they cover up.

I'm just thinking about how beautiful the world would be if we all paid attention to what Jesus taught.

I would never try to impose my beliefs on someone else. If you really want to wear skimpy clothing, go ahead. If you really don't want to pay attention to Jesus, I won't force you. If you really want to create ads that make "that life" seem juuust out of reach, go ahead. But it makes it harder for some of us. That's all I'm saying. It may support what you want (attention, money, whatever), but it makes things a little harder on some of us.

I'm going to try to live out absolute love and kindness for those around me whether others will or not. I would just really like it if others in this world would, too. Sigh. Someday Jesus is going to dry every tear from my eye...

-Working to be comfortable in my own flesh and taking responsibility for what I let my thoughts dwell upon,
Me.

This will be our little secret.

This morning I'm working on using my rusty imagination while reading the Bible. It's easy to forget that the stories recorded in Scripture involved real people with real dilemmas and emotions. OK, Mark chapter 7. Bring it on.

One of the first things that caught my attention was in verses 24-25: "...And [Jesus] entered a house and did not want anyone to know, yet he could not be hidden. But immediately a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit heard of him and came and fell down at his feet." The desperation of this woman is extremely telling. It didn't matter what Jesus was doing. No doubt the owner of the house and Jesus' disciples tried to keep her at bay. Jesus was in the midst of some sort of quiet time--possibly a personal visit or a chance to speak with his disciples--but this woman could not be kept away. She needed Jesus. She had been watching her child suffer, and she knew that relief could be found in Jesus. She pushed. In verse 27, we see that Jesus sort of verbally pushed back. But she would not be deterred. She knew what Jesus could do, and nothing--not the crowds, not her social rank--nothing would keep her from pleading with the Messiah. Because of her persistence and Jesus' mercy, her daughter was healed.

Next, verses 32-35 tell of Jesus healing a deaf man with a speech impediment. Actually, it says that "they" brought this man to Jesus. I don't know who "they" are, but "they" apparently were quite a crowd (v. 33). Anyway, after a private encounter with Jesus, the man was healed. First off--imagine that the first things this man heard were the noises of the large crowd. How overwhelming would that have been? But then check out verses 36-37: 

"...Jesus charged them to tell no one. But the more he charged them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, 'He has done all things well. He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.'"

This is a clear fulfillment of Isaiah 35:5-- this man could be the MESSIAH. Don't tell anyone?!? Yeah, right.

I understand why Jesus would tell them not to spread the word yet. In Mark 2:2-5, it says that the crowds were so intense that no one could get near Jesus and some people had to climb down through a roof to get close enough to Jesus so that their friend could be healed. John 6:15 says that at one point Jesus knew that the crowds were going to "come and take him by force to make him king". The people around him did not understand that Jesus' plans were different than their own. 

But, can you imagine yourself in that scene? Either you are the one who had experienced Jesus firsthand or you had seen the amazing things that Jesus had done, and you weren't supposed to tell anyone. Can you imagine keeping silent about Jesus?

Well, can you?

Stinky and exhausted

I hate working out. I've become more diligent about doing it anyway, but man I hate working out. Generally in the rest of my life I try to avoid activities that cause me to become stinky and exhausted.

In the past year I have started to discover a little more, um, me than was here in previous years. I'm pretty sure that that's because I have been devoting most all of my "free" time to studying and writing papers for school. I think I'm also battling the fact that I'm a couple of years past 30 and while I'm perfectly content with that fact, my body is rebelling. My fat cells are unifying with a, "Heck no, we won't go" sort of mentality.

I also stopped drinking diet soda (and trying to avoid artificial sweeteners altogether). While I know that this was a good decision for me, finding "alternative" beverages that aren't full of real sugar either has been a challenge. Most people say to me, "well, water is a pretty good alternative." What these well meaning people don't realize is that I used to drink at least 64 oz of water per day in addition to the crazy amounts of soda I pumped into myself. SO, any time I choose something that has no artificial sweeteners in it and isn't water, it generally has at least 10-20 calories in it, and those are 10-20 calories that I didn't used to have in my diet. Are you understanding my issue here?

So, to counter-act these facts, I've begun trying to find a workout that I don't hate. A couple of months ago, I started going for regular 2 mile (with steep hills) walks. That has been great (and good for countering anxiety, by the way), but it's not a real aggressive exercise regiment. But lately I've gotten a little more gutsy... I had heard about a workout on some podcast that really had nothing to do with health-- this exercise idea was just an idea in passing conversation. I have dubbed this activity: "the torture walk". Yes, it bites. Yes, I hate doing it. But for some reason, I find myself willing to go and do it again a day or two later.

"The torture walk" works like this: After stretching, I start off with five minutes of just good, brisk walking. Then I begin a cycle consisting of 30 seconds of running as hard as I can, followed by 2 minutes of brisk walking. What makes this a bit more torturous (and probably a more effective workout) is that I'm still using the same route that I used to use for walking, which has a couple of mild inclines, but one very large hill. My second "run like a mad person" interval is generally at the base of this hill. My third running spree gets me to the crest. I hate that one passionately.

So, even though I come home completely sweaty and wiped out, I feel good that I've had the sun on my shoulders and have enjoyed listening to a podcast of my choosing. Oh yeah, and I think my muscles are starting to wake up. Plus, the "I'm making good decisions for my body" feeling is pretty darn great.

Striving and waiting.

I hesitate to write this because I'm not sure that there's a lot of "redeeming" quality here. I'm having a day of self-doubt and second-guessing. I resonate King Solomon when he said,

"All things are full of weariness;

         a man cannot utter it;
    the eye is not satisfied with seeing,

        nor the ear filled with hearing.

What has been is what will be,

         and what has been done is what will be done,         and there is nothing new under the sun."

     (Ecclesiastes 1:9)

Even as I write that out, however, I battle in my soul. Solomon wrote those things because he was striving to experience everything that the world has to offer. In the end, he came to the conclusion that he wanted to share with his son: "The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil" (Ecclesiastes 12:13-13). I'm already there-- my life is a striving after the heart of God. I long to be able to "discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect" (Romans 12:2b), and I know that that can only come by letting my mind be transformed into the mind of Christ over time by submission through the working of the Holy Spirit.

This afternoon feels a bit like a failure. I know that that's not true, but it's tough to get past the fact that I feel like every instinct I have today is wrong. I can't be the only one who feels like this occasionally. I'd really like to just climb into bed and watch a good movie, but I'm too edgy to enjoy much of anything and have no idea what I'd want to watch anyway. Don't I sound like a barrel of fun?

A recurring life-theme of the past couple of weeks is that I wish that God wouldn't let me make decisions. Or better yet, I wish he'd flat-out tell me what decisions will be best for me and then allow me to decide if that's the way I'd like to go or not. But I don't think that God works like that. I think that the Holy Spirit definitely leads me--Solomon observed that "A man’s heart plans his way, But the Lord directs his steps" (Proverbs 16:9)--but I don't think that that means that he tells me everything that I should do. I get to choose what kind of toothpaste I'll use each day. Could God direct me toward a specific toothpaste? Of course. But does he? Well, I've certainly never felt let by him for decisions like that, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen, I guess.

I need to be more patient. I have definitely not learned how to be patient when there's a decision looming and I haven't sensed a direction given by God yet. I am not sure if he'll tell me exactly what to do, but I do know that I can ask him for wisdom. The Bible says that that's a prayer that'll be answered (James 1:5). Of course, as I went to look that verse up I saw the ones right before it: "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing" (James 1:2-4). 

The testing of my faith produces steadfastness. Ugh. OK, Father-- I'm game. But please help those around me to be patient while I go through this incredibly moody period of time. And PLEASE help me to snap out of it.

Senses and Shadows

The most challenging days are those that seem to perpetually exist within shadows.

Surely there is sunlight. I should be able to see it, and I can almost taste the blue sky…

Almost.

Sounds seem muted on days like today. In fact, all of the senses seem to be a little bit dull, except for the sense of touch. That sense seems to be very much alive. Not that it is experiencing anything. In fact, it seems worse that this sense is alive because it is in longing. It is in mourning. The whole body aches because it misses the feeling of feeling.

So, do those shadows exist? or is it the fog hanging so close before my eyes? Am I really feeling pain? or is it merely the phantom ache of wanting?

I find myself wanting to retreat further, counterproductively wrapping a cocoon around myself, hoping to emerge differently. But if I didn’t come out different last time, why keep expecting it to happen today? The pain in my shoulders feels like the strain of too much work, but it is heavier than even that. It is the pain of weariness. It is a strain crafted through much labor in solitude.

“Come to me…”

Your voice is real, but on the other side of nothing. I hear your voice and trust the sincerity, but do not know how to accept. Not today. Today I am tired. Too tired to reach out a hand to accept the help.

My prayer today is in desolation. I hardly know how to look up, but trust that rest will be found and comfort will be discovered because I can dream enough to remember that it is real. Tonight my slumber will be heavy and in writing out this morose chronicle a sliver of hope has been recalled. It has been memorized, committed to memory. Although it exists in a far off corner it is mine, it has been mine. It has been owned through much trial and over many dusty roads. A weary hope, but genuine. Suffering, to endurance, to character, to hope. Oh God, keep me in the character of prostrate soul, in hope. Hope will take another step when I feel that I cannot. Your power for my weakness.

...but joy comes with the morning.

I have a doctored photo on my desktop of two trees standing side-by-side. Each half of each tree, and the area surrounding it, is consumed by a different natural season. The tree of spring has beautiful white buds, and the landscape is flooded with beautiful, morning sunshine. The summer tree is solid and its leaves are a vibrant green. Autumn's tree is covered with vibrant, red leaves, and the grass surrounding it has turned nearly to straw, while the winter tree is coated in a frosty white. I love this photo. It helps me remember that there are, in fact, seasons. They are temporary. They will pass-- the simple, the difficult, the challenging, the good.

Today I am feeling very, very down. There isn't any reason for it. One friend told me that it is PHS (post holiday syndrome). However, being prone to bouts of depression, I know that it is truly just one of my life-cycles.

I can't remember what I've posted about depression in the past (and frankly, I'm too lazy right now to go and look). I remember a time when I was essentially told that depression was demonic, and that those who take medicine for depression are merely trading one set of demons for another. For those of you who read this and aren't Bible believers, you may be scoffing, but I know the spirit world to be alive and well. My argument is not with the reality of demons. However, being told that emotional issues absolutely are demonic, even while the one afflicted is striving to give their all to Jesus, leaves a deep scar. And what's more, there are many reasons that depression can come upon a Christian.

I came across a lecture by Charles Haddon Spurgeon, who is my favorite preacher/teacher outside of Jesus and those who wrote the scriptures, called "The Minister's Fainting Fits" in which he describes his own battles with depression. Spurgeon was one of the most eloquent preachers that has ever lived, and has had more works published than most any other man because they resonate deeply and profoundly with people. He preached Christ crucified and of the necessity of depending wholly on Jesus for security. His writings and speeches were meaty, and reading them nourishes my soul. He also battled severely with depression. Within the above mentioned lecture, Spurgeon stated, "Even under the economy of redemption it is most clear that we are to endure infirmities, otherwise there were no need of the promised Spirit to help us in them." So very obvious, but so comforting to read.

He also went on to speak of other reasons why depression comes specifically upon ministers: not many others understand his zeal for serving the Lord, many hours spent without physical exercise pouring over a lesson, the sorrow at seeing men reject Jesus. And even more than that, depression can come at "the hour of great success", before such an achievement, during a "long stretch of unbroken labour," when someone close to him has let him down, or in the midst of troubles. At other times, it can seem completely causeless, God allowing it for reasons unknown.

However, amid all of this in which he spoke from experience, he went on to say:

"The lesson of wisdom is, be not dismayed by soul-trouble. Count it no strange thing, but a part of ordinary ministerial experience. Should the power of depression be more than ordinary, think not that all is over with your usefulness. Cast not away your confidence, for it hath great recopense of reward... Live by the day--ay, by the hour. Put no trust in frames and feelings... Serve God with all your might while the candle is burning, and then when it goes out for a season, you will have the less to regret... When your own emptiness is painfully forced upon your consciousness, chide yourself that you ever dreamed of being full, except in the Lord... Continue, with double earnestness to serve your Lord when no visible result is before you. Any simpleton can follow the narrow path in the light: faith's rare wisdom enables us to march on in the dark with infallible accuracy, since she places her hand in that of her Great Guide..."

I might be struggling today, but there will be another season coming.




Spurgeon, C. H. "The Minister's Fainting Fits." Lectures To My Students. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1954. N. pag. Print.

School: the good, the busy, the wild monkeys.

First, let me say that I have found my job incredibly fulfilling, while incredibly exhausting, these past 2+ weeks. I LOVE these kids! I never knew that I could enjoy being around middle-schoolers for this amount of time. Not gonna lie-- sometimes some (or all!) of them are incredibly obnoxious. Take yesterday at lunch, for example. I turned to one of the other teachers and asked if someone might have spiked their milk-- they were like wild monkeys! Oh, I enjoy the 10 (or so) minutes of the lunch period before they have actually FINISHED eating their lunch...

My SPED (special ed) kids are amazing. Only one is giving me gruff right now, and we're working on that one. They're so amazing, and I get to help them be successful in school. Have I used the word "amazing" enough yet?  Sorry.

Now, on to the other "school"-- COLLEGE.  (Menacing music here.)

Actually, I'm completely loving it. I don't have any time to breathe of course, but that's to be expected, right?

This week, the last for this quarter and by extension these classes, I'm getting to look at some of the things that divide us as Christians. There are lots of words tossed around-- some with positive connotations, some with negative. Actually, my textbook does a pretty great job of bringing out the positives and negatives in every set of beliefs. Some of the sub-categories looked at this week include: Catholic, Fundamental, Evangelical, Feminist, Conservative, and Liberal. I am really loving these sections because in the areas that I don't always side with, I get to learn more about the originations of these eras. That helps with compassion. And, in the areas that I have fallen to already, I get to dig in a bit deeper to be challenged or affirmed. I love all of this meat.

The chapter that's a bit tougher for me to chew and swallow is: "Eschatology: Doctrine of Last Things". We're talking end-of-the-world stuff here, people.  Pre-trib, mid-trib, post-trib?  A-millenialist, Pre-millenialist, Post-millenialist? Actual descriptions of the literalness of hell? Oy. Really, I don't want to gloss over these subjects. But it's finals week. How can I tackle something like this during FINALS WEEK??

I will have a bit of glorious breathing time next week. SUPER excited about that. I get to read something just for fun!  However, I DO have to admit that I love looking at my text books and thinking-- WHOA-- I read all of that in two months?!?  Self-discipline is a great thing.