Disclaimer: I do feel like a hypocrite writing this post, which is meant to point a finger at myself in addition to anyone else who reads it. I am far from the kind of woman I like to present myself as in my writing. Despite an embarrassing number of failures, I am a work in progress.
I saw this bumper sticker on the car parked next to me at Scribbles Cafe this week: "Many paths, one God." I'll spare you my soapbox rant on (shameless plug alert!) the universalist approach to religion and step up on a different kind of soapbox. This is a serious question that, while slightly outlandish, is worthy of consideration: What if the American church was persecuted?
I'm not referring to the casual insults of "bigot," "homophobe," or "closed-minded" that so many conservative Christians get. While hurtful, this is not persecution. I'm not referring to the Christians who are personally offended by those who refuse to say "Under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance, disapprove of allowing prayer in public schools, or the display of the Ten Commandments in front of courthouses. This is a far cry from persecution.
Regarding the aforementioned bumper sticker, the all-too-common approach to religion today is one of comfort. The only sin in our modern world of choice and convenience is personally offending others with whatever we perceive as the truth. It is easy to take this view. It allows us to keep our friends, our jobs. Above all else, it's safe.
But is it worth it?
There are, believe it or not, Christians in countries who are facing persecution -- the kind that gets you killed -- who pray for persecution in America. That seems harsh, but think about it for a second. Imagine the mentality behind such a drastic plea. The prayer is not for violence and bloodshed. The prayer is to use drastic measures to wake people up and get them to understand where they really stand in their faith.
The churches in America are in desperate need of revival. Christians in other persecuted countries understand that complacency is the enemy of those who really want to know God, because we forget what we have been spared from when we get too comfortable. We forget the weight of the debts we've been forgiven for, the debts that weigh down the souls of those we love.
The people who attend church out of obligation, for the social interaction, the potlucks, or to look good for their communities are not motivated by love for God. They are not inclined to make the necessary sacrifices, should circumstances demand it, that Jesus refers to when he says "Pick up your cross and follow me."
The Christians of America, as a whole, have very few crosses to bear, thanks to the freedom of religion we have been granted under the law. We should be thankful for that. And our hearts should break for those who wake up every day wondering if today will be the day they will have to die for what they believe in.
Please, think about this. Pray about it. If one day it was made illegal to be a Christian in America, would there be any evidence (besides regular church attendance) to convict you?
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The day the world stopped turning
It's really sad how it sometimes takes a national tragedy to shift your perspective in a reasonable direction. We all suffer bad things, but we get into trouble trying to decide who suffers more than another (a game that many people sometimes enjoy playing). Sometimes, though, it's obvious. Sometimes we need reminders that the world is much, much bigger than just ourselves.
Even in private grief that has me utterly convinced life cannot get any worse...I am always aware that it can. Six months ago today, I went to bed after what should have been a normal day, and woke up in hell. God answered my prayer to dig me out of an abusive relationship. I felt like I lost so much, it killed me to know I could never get back the amount of time I had wasted, losing myself in another person. But, as the tenth anniversary of 9/11 proves, the heart is a very resilient thing. Lives crumble, but they can be rebuilt. People are taken from us, but life soldiers on anyway.
It baffles me how that happens. I don't know how or why it happens, I'm just so grateful that it does.
I just sat through the movie United 93 on TV and bawled my eyes out, something I haven't done since my remaining days in LT. I thought I had used up all the tears my body is capable of producing during the three months I spent in Colorado; apparently, I can still make more. So that's a good thing, I'm not completely numb yet. I'm probably too young to be jaded and apathetic about the world and all the bad people in it.
Even if this wasn't actual footage, and the real people who died were represented by actors, the grief I saw was real. It's the kind that makes people give up on faith altogether, or cling to it with a desperate realization that even a small strand of it is better than having nothing at all.
I was 12 years old when it happened, just gotten out of PE, and was, ironically, on my way to my American History class. Naturally, the lesson for the day was cancelled, and we watched the news instead. Not having lost anyone close to me that day, it's hard to feel the same kind of grief as those who were more personally affected. But I admire the resilience in the survivors. I admire anyone who can manage just to get out of bed in the morning when everything seems hopeless. Eventually, I suppose you get to a point where you have no choice but to survive. And it's such a hard, sucky choice, but what other choice is there?
Hence the meaning behind my newest tattoo. "Choose Joy" is more than just a cutesy motto.
This quote has given me much to think about:
"Our generation, as long as we've had an identity, was known as the generation that had it easy.We had no crisis, no Vietnam, no Martin Luther King, no JFK. We've got it now. When we have kids and grandkids, we'll tell them that we lived through the roaring '90s, when all we cared about was the No. 1 movie or how many copies an album sold. This is where it changes." (Greg Epstein)
What does it mean to define yourself by a tragedy? Is it healthy? To an extent, maybe it is. It's a sign that nothing bad that happens is ever in vain. Every life has a turning point; pain is probably the most common indicator of where one's purpose lies. If nothing else, pain turns us around and gives us something bigger to live for.
I'm not sure where I intended to go with this...for once I'm trying not to dwell too much on all the issues that stress my tiny little life. As a wanna-be chaplain, my spiritual gift is serving others in their tragedy. My perspective is ever-widening.
Even in private grief that has me utterly convinced life cannot get any worse...I am always aware that it can. Six months ago today, I went to bed after what should have been a normal day, and woke up in hell. God answered my prayer to dig me out of an abusive relationship. I felt like I lost so much, it killed me to know I could never get back the amount of time I had wasted, losing myself in another person. But, as the tenth anniversary of 9/11 proves, the heart is a very resilient thing. Lives crumble, but they can be rebuilt. People are taken from us, but life soldiers on anyway.
It baffles me how that happens. I don't know how or why it happens, I'm just so grateful that it does.
I just sat through the movie United 93 on TV and bawled my eyes out, something I haven't done since my remaining days in LT. I thought I had used up all the tears my body is capable of producing during the three months I spent in Colorado; apparently, I can still make more. So that's a good thing, I'm not completely numb yet. I'm probably too young to be jaded and apathetic about the world and all the bad people in it.
Even if this wasn't actual footage, and the real people who died were represented by actors, the grief I saw was real. It's the kind that makes people give up on faith altogether, or cling to it with a desperate realization that even a small strand of it is better than having nothing at all.
I was 12 years old when it happened, just gotten out of PE, and was, ironically, on my way to my American History class. Naturally, the lesson for the day was cancelled, and we watched the news instead. Not having lost anyone close to me that day, it's hard to feel the same kind of grief as those who were more personally affected. But I admire the resilience in the survivors. I admire anyone who can manage just to get out of bed in the morning when everything seems hopeless. Eventually, I suppose you get to a point where you have no choice but to survive. And it's such a hard, sucky choice, but what other choice is there?
Hence the meaning behind my newest tattoo. "Choose Joy" is more than just a cutesy motto.
This quote has given me much to think about:
"Our generation, as long as we've had an identity, was known as the generation that had it easy.We had no crisis, no Vietnam, no Martin Luther King, no JFK. We've got it now. When we have kids and grandkids, we'll tell them that we lived through the roaring '90s, when all we cared about was the No. 1 movie or how many copies an album sold. This is where it changes." (Greg Epstein)
What does it mean to define yourself by a tragedy? Is it healthy? To an extent, maybe it is. It's a sign that nothing bad that happens is ever in vain. Every life has a turning point; pain is probably the most common indicator of where one's purpose lies. If nothing else, pain turns us around and gives us something bigger to live for.
I'm not sure where I intended to go with this...for once I'm trying not to dwell too much on all the issues that stress my tiny little life. As a wanna-be chaplain, my spiritual gift is serving others in their tragedy. My perspective is ever-widening.
Monday, September 5, 2011
The cost of non-conformity?
I'd like to think that I've always been a non-conformist in my own right. When everyone in high school wore church retreat shirts, I flaunted a Star of David. When some of my friends started experimenting with cigarettes, I took a self-righteous high road and insisted I was better than that. I wanted to do the right thing for honor's sake, but I also wanted to be "that girl" who stood out for it. I did what I wanted because I wanted to, but there was no denying the part of me that just wanted to be known for something.
Now that I've grown up a little, I realize my motive for wanting to do "what everyone else is doing" (even if, most of the time, "everyone else" is NOT doing it, whatever "it" is) has less to do with wanting to fit in, and more to do with a desire to be taken seriously.
If you're not living in the "real world" (what does that even mean, anyway?), you have no idea what you're talking about. People silence you, and disregard anything you say in your defense.
I wrote a weekly column for my campus newspaper throughout my senior year. I experienced this "Can't take you seriously when you believe X and Y" mentality weekly. I'm a Christian, so I can't possibly understand what it's like to be in the minority. Nevermind the fact that I grew up as one, and I did not "convert" simply to escape that. And also because I'm a Christian, it's automatically assumed that I've never had sex since I'm not married, so what would I know about "real relationships"?
I have found that believing in something counter-cultural can cause some people to be less inclined to listen to what you have to say. It doesn't always matter how intelligently and inoffensively you say it. And therein lies the reason I feel so tempted to give in to what society says is good, normal, and healthy: because I want my testimony to be taken seriously. I want my story to be heard by everyone, because I think there's something in it that can benefit many people. Not everyone, but enough. So is it required to live the life my peers are living just to be understood? Do I have to hook up with a stranger, get high a few times, become a social drinker, or indulge in any other lifestyle habit you can think of, in order to have a "real opinion" on these issues?
I don't think there's a single living being that hasn't felt pressured to live a certain way, to make certain choices for the sake of being included. What I want to know is, why are young people encouraged to be unique if, ultimately, they are expected to adapt to the ever-changing values of society?
Now that I've grown up a little, I realize my motive for wanting to do "what everyone else is doing" (even if, most of the time, "everyone else" is NOT doing it, whatever "it" is) has less to do with wanting to fit in, and more to do with a desire to be taken seriously.
If you're not living in the "real world" (what does that even mean, anyway?), you have no idea what you're talking about. People silence you, and disregard anything you say in your defense.
I wrote a weekly column for my campus newspaper throughout my senior year. I experienced this "Can't take you seriously when you believe X and Y" mentality weekly. I'm a Christian, so I can't possibly understand what it's like to be in the minority. Nevermind the fact that I grew up as one, and I did not "convert" simply to escape that. And also because I'm a Christian, it's automatically assumed that I've never had sex since I'm not married, so what would I know about "real relationships"?
I have found that believing in something counter-cultural can cause some people to be less inclined to listen to what you have to say. It doesn't always matter how intelligently and inoffensively you say it. And therein lies the reason I feel so tempted to give in to what society says is good, normal, and healthy: because I want my testimony to be taken seriously. I want my story to be heard by everyone, because I think there's something in it that can benefit many people. Not everyone, but enough. So is it required to live the life my peers are living just to be understood? Do I have to hook up with a stranger, get high a few times, become a social drinker, or indulge in any other lifestyle habit you can think of, in order to have a "real opinion" on these issues?
I don't think there's a single living being that hasn't felt pressured to live a certain way, to make certain choices for the sake of being included. What I want to know is, why are young people encouraged to be unique if, ultimately, they are expected to adapt to the ever-changing values of society?
Saturday, September 3, 2011
No one can find the rewind button, girl
You must accept whatever situation the Lord has put you in, and continue on as you were when he first called you. 1 Corinthians 7:17
It was a sad, hard day today...our beloved puppers, Shadow, passed away last night.
So a new semester has started already...not that it should make a difference to me. College life continues without me this time, but I find myself wanting to tag along and live the illusion once more. I went to church on campus for the first time in months and wow, there were so. many. freshmen. I have never seen so many freshmen in one room before. And believe it or not, I was actually a little jealous of them.
Unlike high school, I'd be reasonably okay with doing college over again. And no, it's not just because I made some of my biggest mistakes during that time -- those can happen anywhere, at any time. I miss the feeling of having a new clean slate, a chance to be someone new. To make the most of every opportunity and make lasting changes.
I just wish I hadn't waited until my senior year to become comfortable enough in my faith to really live it out on campus. While I'm not completely cut off from my friends, or denied access to new ones, I still feel like I'm shut out in no-man's-land Hudson, which is an absolute dead zone now with hardly anyone my age left in it, and no new dorm neighbors to get to know, or chat with awkwardly as I wait in line for grilled cheese at Rosie's Diner at 3 in the morning.
Grad school is the next best thing to getting a "do over." It won't be until Fall of 2012 for me, but if I end up going to Denver Seminary, it will be a 4-year long program that will, in a sense, be exactly like doing college over again. Only I get to live in a real apartment, and not a dorm. And I'll be in a place where I almost certainly will not run into anyone I know from high school. Of course, the whole "someday fallacy" will most likely come and slap me in the face, but I'll deal with that when it happens. And hopefully I'll be better prepared for it.
In the mean time, I'll try not to get too frustrated when the new freshmen ask me what my major is, or what dorm I'm living in, and then get these shocked looks on their faces when they find out how old I really am, and then the inevitable "So, uh...what are you still doing here?"
No really, that's already happened. Three times. In one evening. *Sigh*
It's my job to fill the mentor role now. Am I mature enough for that?
It was a sad, hard day today...our beloved puppers, Shadow, passed away last night.
She was 13 and a half years old, the equivalent of a 94 year old woman, and in a lot of pain...but she lived the best life possible for a dog, I think. We were considering having her put down at the vet today because she could no longer walk, eat, or hold her, um, bodily fluids, but she died in her sleep around 11 pm last night, surrounded by her family, the way it should have been.
I'm really more of a cat person, but I loved her, and I miss her so much...I can't imagine what it will be like to lose Lucky Mittens. He's 15 already, and I know he's getting up there in cat years. Seriously, anyone who says "Oh big deal, they're just animals" has clearly never had one, and should never be allowed to. They are family, no matter what anyone says.
Unlike high school, I'd be reasonably okay with doing college over again. And no, it's not just because I made some of my biggest mistakes during that time -- those can happen anywhere, at any time. I miss the feeling of having a new clean slate, a chance to be someone new. To make the most of every opportunity and make lasting changes.
I just wish I hadn't waited until my senior year to become comfortable enough in my faith to really live it out on campus. While I'm not completely cut off from my friends, or denied access to new ones, I still feel like I'm shut out in no-man's-land Hudson, which is an absolute dead zone now with hardly anyone my age left in it, and no new dorm neighbors to get to know, or chat with awkwardly as I wait in line for grilled cheese at Rosie's Diner at 3 in the morning.
Grad school is the next best thing to getting a "do over." It won't be until Fall of 2012 for me, but if I end up going to Denver Seminary, it will be a 4-year long program that will, in a sense, be exactly like doing college over again. Only I get to live in a real apartment, and not a dorm. And I'll be in a place where I almost certainly will not run into anyone I know from high school. Of course, the whole "someday fallacy" will most likely come and slap me in the face, but I'll deal with that when it happens. And hopefully I'll be better prepared for it.
In the mean time, I'll try not to get too frustrated when the new freshmen ask me what my major is, or what dorm I'm living in, and then get these shocked looks on their faces when they find out how old I really am, and then the inevitable "So, uh...what are you still doing here?"
No really, that's already happened. Three times. In one evening. *Sigh*
It's my job to fill the mentor role now. Am I mature enough for that?
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