To make beautiful things out of dust

Not gonna lie...I wasn't nearly as excited for this year's "Women's Weekend" as my other female church friends were. Why? Because I remember how much I cried at last year's. Don't let the promotional videos fool you; it's not all giggling and pillow fighting and junk food gorging (although there was plenty of all those things, but that's not the point).

The point is for the women of h2o to have their one little getaway to learn from older, wiser women about struggles that are, well, relevant to being Christian women in the 21st century. Actually, the theme this year could be applicable to men as well, but we don't have to tell them that ;) This year we talked about the Waiting Period that the Old Testament writers referred to as a desert. For us it's a spiritual desert, but for them it was literal...we've heard of how the the Jews spent 40 years wandering, yearning for what was promised to them...what God promises to all of us is a life of purpose if we follow him. But, he never promises it will be an easy, hassle-free experience.

Last year's Women's Weekend, I bawled so much my stomach hurt. I was convicted after listening to the speaker's struggle to reclaim her identity after struggling with an unhealthy relationship, both spiritually and emotionally. It was a moment where I realized, once and for all, that I needed to make some changes in my life. It was the weekend I met one of my best friends, a girl who listened to my sob story even though she didn't know me that well, and let me crash on her couch at 1 in the morning on a school night when I finally understood what I had to do...it was my turn to break free.

It was one of the hardest, yet most necessary things I've ever done, even harder than telling my Jewish parents in Israel of all places that I've become a Christian.

I do not regret leaving for a single second. I only regret the time that was wasted believing that I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, smart enough or whatever enough to be loved. I learned this all of last year, and it was reinforced at Women's Weekend 2012: That is a lie straight from Satan himself, and as the father of lies, he makes up that crap from his own resources. I didn't realize just how offensive it was to God himself to look in the mirror and hate the person staring back at me. It's like insulting someone's personal artwork, telling them that a blind 2 year old could do better. And yet, this is what I believed about myself for far too long.

It has been a year since I made all these changes. I am not done growing yet. I am not done healing yet. But by the grace of God, I am making so, so much progress.

That friend that I met at Women's Weekend last year? She sent me a link to a tumblr called Project Unbreakable. Using art and photography, this amazing site gives people a chance to "take the power back of the words that were once used against them." The result is breath-taking. I decided to submit a photo of my own, and given how many photos they must receive, I don't expect them to publish mine any time soon, so I'm putting it here:

After sharing my testimony so many times during Leadership Training this summer, I think I'm at a point where I can do so without falling apart. I want to use my life as a witness for the glory God has done in my life, and to let other people know that they never have an excuse to be hopeless. A song by Gungor says "You make beautiful things out of the dust" and it's true. Being crippled is a state of mind. We are not defined by our circumstances. Adversity is often the very foundation that gives meaning to our lives.

But it's something you have to choose. And you have to allow God to surprise you in ways you might never expect. Don't believe me, well, my life is proof.

Taking back the blame

More reflections on what I'm learning from volunteering, and moving beyond my own past experiences.

I'm not sure how I feel about the term "Slutwalks," because I think there are some derogatory words that have too much stigma attached to be "taken back." But I support the purpose behind them. I've been giving this recent movement a lot of thought lately after the last training session at the crisis center. We were given a list of common scenarios where women (and sometimes men) are assaulted...and society will insist they were "asking for it." We advocates were assigned the task of labeling each scenario on a scale of 1 to 10 as far as personal responsibility is concerned: 1 being not at all responsible, and 10 being completely responsible.

There was a description of a drunk girl at a fraternity party. A woman walking home alone in a short skirt. Another woman who was assaulted by a couple who picked her up while hitch-hiking, and more.

I admit that I hesitated for many of these. Some answers seemed obvious...clearly, a drunk girl is not capable of consenting to sex. But the woman who hitch-hiked? Don't we all know that hitch-hiking is dangerous? Didn't that woman walking home alone know to use the buddy system?

Ultimately, the common denominator in each of these scenarios is this: that no victim deserved what she got. It seemed unlikely at first that each of these situations should be looked at under the same lens. But then I asked myself, how many times have I made decisions that put my safety at risk? How many times have you done that? Or dared to let your guard down around someone you happen to trust? Does every person who makes an unwise decision deserve to get raped or assaulted for it? What about those who had good reason to never see it coming?

I'm not concerned with the mentality of the people who drink around strangers, dress provocatively, or sleep around. What concerns me more is why this culture seems to have more sympathy for victims of murders and robberies than victims of rape and sexual assault. Why are those last two crimes put in an isolated "You should have known better" category?

We spend so much time telling young girls to always guard their drinks, to watch how they dress, how much they flirt. We tell them "Don't get raped!" instead of telling men "Don't rape!" Why is there not nearly as much emphasis on telling would-be assailants to keep their hands and genitals to themselves? It's a basic rule of kindergarten, to not touch what doesn't belong to you.

I think the biggest shame is that many of the "slut shamers" happen to be women who are just as much at risk themselves, whether they go out in short skirts or thick trenchcoats. The blame for sexual assault belongs solely on the person who commits it, and anyone who says otherwise would surely think differently if it happened to them.

I was one of those "It can't happen to me" women. And that is how my ministry began.

To be continued...

The story within the story

Disclaimer: I decided to do a mini-series of sorts about my reactions to the things I am learning while volunteering at a crisis center. This is also motivated by the upcoming one-year mark of when I closed a particularly painful chapter in my life, and when my name change was declared legal.

The question is this: What would you do if someone you were in a relationship with was hurting or severely disrespecting you? How would you react?

It’s an impossible scenario for most of us. Who wants to consider such an awful breach of trust? How can we really know how we’d react until, God forbid, it actually happens?

I thought I knew my answer. I simply wouldn’t stand for it. I’d fight like hell. I’d end the relationship. I’d do anything but be passive and compliant. Doing nothing, I rationalized, is like enabling the bad behavior. And I sure as hell would not enable such blatant disrespect, especially when the woman being disrespected was my own self.

I was seventeen at the time I thought I knew everything (but what seventeen-year-old doesn’t think that?). And that’s what I was so sure I would do if the situation happened to me.

But, as hindsight likes to remind me, I was too young to assume such things.

Can I say why it took so long for me to stand up for myself? Not really. There are many reasons, some that make sense, and others that don’t. But that’s hardly the point. What matters now is that I am wiser and less judgmental for having experienced something I put down untold scores of women for. When I look into the hurting faces of future clients, I may see traces of Sarah in them…and I’ll have to remember that the little hurting Sarah is what helped create the Sarahbeth I felt called to be after my baptism. The two are inseparable, much to my chagrin. But that is the truth.

What does it feel like to have hindsight bite you in the butt for failing to notice things that were so obvious to others, but easily excusable to you? It’s something like this…it’s like going through the motions of everyday life in a zombified state. It’s like having outbursts of anger for what seems like no apparent reason, for even the smallest of offenses. It’s like forgetting how to be your once cheerful, perky self, and having to re-learn basic social skills when mingling with new people (especially if those people are customers at your job). It takes a while to re-learn all those basic skills. But it does happen.

What does it feel like to re-learn your true identity after feeling like the one you were born with wasn’t good enough? It’s like comparing yourselves to other people you admire, people you wish you could be like, only to find out that they have struggles too, and maybe they’re comparing themselves to you because for some odd reason, they think you’re the one who has it all together. It’s like begging for compliments to remind yourself of what you’re good at, but over time you remember why it is that people seem to love you, to trust you, and call you their friend. It’s like throwing yourself into serving the needs of others to bring some glory, however small, into this piece of hell that will – yes, it will! – get a little smaller with every passing day. 

You can’t ever know how you’ll react to something until it actually happens to you. It doesn’t help to speculate over what ifs. But it helps to be prepared. Being prepared is to know that anything that happens to you doesn’t have to leave you broken. It just leaves you with a story to tell.

What singleness has taught me

I have heard almost every cliche in the book about singlehood. But here is what I have learned about cliches...they have to be true enough times in order to become over-used and Hallmark-worthy. And in the nature of relationships, actions without a genuine heart behind them don't always result in the kind of satisfaction we crave.

I've had this little blue note card for several years now, since the beginning of high school (now that feels like a million years ago). It has multiple Bible verses on patience and perseverance, and promises that God will fulfill the desires of our hearts if we learn to be content in him first, and that the moment we stop looking for love, that is the moment it will come to us. It was given to me by a good friend with the best of intentions, and for many years, I fully believed the words on that card. I lived by them. I genuinely did not believe that God would show me the person I was meant to be with if I did not learn to be...cue the inevitable gags...content in my singleness first.

In other words, I started to accept I might as well be single for life.

I don't think the advice on that little card is bad. There is some validity in learning to be content in your current circumstances to prepare for the future, and I have heard stories time and time again from people who swear that the moment they decided to swear off the entire male species, viola! There Mr. Right appeared.

It seemed, as you may already be thinking, a little too good to be true. And in many ways, it is.

The attitude of "doing nothing" -- no chasing, no Facebook stalking, no making the first move -- is found in many women's magazines as well as many churches. The point is that women typically (though certainly not in every case) want to be pursued. It's the "man's job." And it seems that the inevitable result of soaking up that advice is a lot of restless pining and senseless wishing, not really doing anything productive with our time...because as much as we remind ourselves it's all worthwhile, the reality is that we do not care at all to better ourselves. We're just doing whatever it takes to get the man.

And it was that defeatist attitude that sank me low enough to believe it would never happen for me. Sure, there is more independence in singlehood, I guess, but it hardly seemed fulfilling when compared to the thought of a relationship. I would pray all the right things, to make the most of this "dry season," but all the while I'd be thinking in the back of my mind "I've been enduring this *cough cough* patiently God, now can you send someone to love me??"

And his answer was: "Nope. Not yet. Keep waiting." Grrrrrrrrrr.

It was the right advice, though. Because eventually I reached a point where I wasn't content, per se, in my circumstances, I just gave up trying to change them. I committed myself to two things for the year I'd spend at home before grad school: going to church, and all the other churchy things that entails, and finding a job. I threw myself into those tasks, expecting to grow in perseverance and my worst enemy, patience. That mission became my biggest priority.

Barely three months at home, my circumstances changed completely. I still feel undeserving and I am still in disbelief, but I am so, so incredibly grateful.

But I have realized something very crucial. I don't think I would be fully prepared for this new stage of my life if not for the following truth: no human being is capable of satisfying the longings we feel. Furthermore, complete and ultimate satisfaction that doesn't lack for anything is just not available on this side of heaven. It can't be, because circumstances on earth are too temporary. We can't know what will happen tomorrow or even in the next few minutes, and if we base our happiness on something that can be taken from us (even if that taking is involuntary, like by accident or illness), then what will we have when it's gone? What happens to our identity then?

I may want to eat these words someday, but from where I am right now, I honestly believe I can handle almost anything once I have grasped this fact: that no blessing I am given in this life is a right; it is a privilege. And if, for whatever reason, it is taken from me before I can learn to appreciate it fully, I will accept the joy of knowing that I had been given a gift...and the God I serve is not a one-blessing-per-lifetime kind of guy. The cool part is, those blessings have absolutely nothing to do with my own good deeds! They are all unmerited favor!

A gift or a blessing is not the same as a promise: only the promise is permanent. And that promise is this...

I am the bread of life. He who comes to me shall never hunger, and he who believes in my shall never thirst. John 6:35