A huge step forward

Well I'm a little late in posting this, since I was overwhelmed with giddyness about Fall Getaway. But now, I'm all caught up on the "Got Consent" Facebook page and this article marks the beginning of a new era.

"The Uniform Crime Report Subcommittee voted unanimously to change the definition of rape, which had not been changed for 80 years (!) and rape will now be defined as, “penetration, no matter how slight, of the vagina or anus with any body part or object, or oral penetration by a sex organ of another person, without the consent of the victim.”

To put it in simple terms: by changing the official definition of rape, more rapes will be officially counted, thereby allowing more resources to be targeted towards prevention and prosecution."

While this is a change that is absolutely necessary, I can't help but think about the new can of worms that has just been opened. Rape is extremely difficult to prove in many cases as it is, especially within the context of intimate relationships. I could be wrong about this, but I would assume that with non-intercourse rapes, there would be less evidence to collect in a rape kit...which could make for a more difficult case to take to trial.

This is not to say that these other forms of assault should not be reported...but based on the research I've done, newspaper articles I've read, and talks with a few friends who work and/or volunteer at domestic violence clinics, I have very little faith that the current justice system actually delivers in many of these cases...not that I can really blame it entirely. If there's not enough evidence, there's not enough evidence...and I do believe that it is a better alternative to let a guilty person walk free than place a potentially innocent one behind bars.

Now that the legal definition of rape has been expanded, I can only hope that more people, men and women alike, will educate themselves and understand that the extent to which a person is violated doesn't really matter. What matters is that no one has the right to defile what is not rightfully theirs. Humans do not belong to each other, our bodies are not commodities to be used at anyone's disposal. We do not value them enough.

This isn't completely related, but thought-provoking nonetheless:

Dying of thirst by the side of the fountain

So I just got back from another awesome fall retreat with my church, where the theme was why truth matters: this "truth" being who we are, who we were created to be, and how the lies the world tells about what we need to have a secure identity impact the way we live.

It's not like we don't know that the mechanisms used in advertising are often harmful: it's always assumed that you can never lose too much weight, never have teeth that are too white, never have hair that's too shiny, and if you don't have these things, you're not worth as much as someone who does. Someone else's success is often the catalyst for someone else's harm. I don't stop and wonder often enough how truly damaging it is to just take in these messages so quickly, and believe the truth in those more than the truth God says about me: that I'm unique, fearfully and purposefully made. I give so much lip service to that truth without really, truly believing it. Why is that?

I have to assume that the speaker, Tammy Smith (whose book Soul Healing has changed my former roommate's life, so she tells me) was partly motivated by anger as well as passion to make a career out of speaking on this topic. It must be frustrating, maybe even infuriating, to know that so many people are wasting their lives trying to look or become like something they simply weren't meant to be.

Many people go through their whole lives never figuring out where their true gifts lie because they're too busy copying other people's. God had something specifically in mind for every person he created, he's the only one who can truly fulfill a person's hunger for love, and yet so many people just don't realize it. It's like 90% of the world is dying of thirst by the side of the fountain, and it's such a senseless tragedy. Who wouldn't feel angry knowing that?

Sitting in that session, I realized something obvious: I can't afford to live a wasted life. And yet...I have, by holding on to misplaced anger. Anger over things that I can't change. I can't go back and re-live the day I met the person who is the cause of almost every insecurity I have today...it's over, it's done. So what am I doing about it now?

I hope that one day, as all that anger fades and I experience true joy again, that I'll still remember the hurt I once felt, and never ever forget it, because there will still be countless men and women trapped where I once was...and just remembering that dark pit I once lived in, even if I'm not living in it anymore, is what will make my message genuine. The fight against the enemy's lies is vicious, ugly, and painful, but I can't think of anything else more worthy to do with my life than that.

I want to be someone who remembers what God says is true about me even on days when I hate the way I look and don't want to go outside; on days when I feel fat and bloated and cranky and PMS-y and no one wants to be around me. Moods fluctuate, trends change, but my identity in Christ should not. And the sooner I start living like I truly believe this, the sooner I can be of use to help other people see the futility of chasing satisfaction in temporary things that will only let them down.

What true joy looks like...pretending to be five years old again on a swing set, where grad school applications and the stresses of job hunting are far, faaaar away...

Inexcusable excuses, part 2

One of the reasons I rarely go to see "chick flicks" anymore (besides the ridiculous jacked up prices of movie tickets) is because of the same objectifying material that is recycled over and over again. Consider the stereotypical female protagonist: a self-sufficient and obviously attractive woman who, for reasons us average women cannot understand, just can't seem to find the right man.

Cue the stereotypical male antagonist: a beer-guzzling, skirt-chasing sleezebag who sleeps with anything that moves. And every viewer knows, even before the opening credits finish, that these two archtypes will somehow end up together. The best, most current example of this ridiculousness is The Ugly Truth, with Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler.

The lack of originality is actually the least of my frustrations: it's the never-ending cycle of dehumanizing rhetoric, and the expectation that eventually, the so-called "strong, independent" woman will give in to it. It's all a part of my new fascination: rape culture. Consider how many times you've heard remarks like these:

"I'm going to make it with her."

"Tonight's the night I'm going to score."

"What a piece of meat."

Pretty commonplace, right? Consider these statistics as well:

One in twelve male students surveyed had committed acts that met the legal definitions of rape or attempted rape.

84 percent of those men who committed rape said that what they did was definitely not rape. (http://www.aaets.org/arts/art13.htm)

For the record, I'm well aware that men think about sex. A lot (as do women). Being tempted is not wrong. Wanting sex is not wrong. What is inexcusable, however, is the acceptance of women being treated as commodities or prizes. I don't know why, in this day and age, it is socially acceptable for men to think that way. It's inexcusable that there are men who resort to coercive tactics to get what they want, truly believing that as long as they aren't using excessive force, they aren't actually committing a crime.

This may leave many people wondering, how exactly does a guy know when a woman is giving consent? Well honestly, a guy should know a woman well enough to know what she wants and what she doesn't want. And if he doesn't, well...consider it an incentive to actually get to know a woman before deciding to sleep with her. Sure, it takes time, but it's a better alternative to being labeled a sex offender.

The more I research this, the more convinced I am that this is the direction I am meant to go as a chaplain (assuming that's still what I want to do once I get my Masters in divinity). I don't know if women's clinics/counseling centers for abuse survivors are in need of counselors in the clergy, but I am so sick of seeing women trying to find their identities in men, even if those men fail to treat them as the daughters of God that they really are. The lies this world will believe just break my heart. I am making it my mission to do something about it.

Inexcusable excuses

Most women I know have heard these warnings at some point in their lives: Always guard your drink at parties. Don't lead a guy on by wearing a short skirt. Never walk alone at night.

And just about everyone has heard this expression: "Boys will be boys" (and curiously, there is no established age limit on "boys," as if some men are incapable of growing up).

This dichonomy has become a fascination to me lately. The above warnings may come from a well-intentioned place, but they are misguided. They seem to imply that a woman could be partially responsible for being assaulted or harassed. Yet in this culture, men are excused, to an extent, for disrespectful behavior because they're supposedly wired to be perverts.

If I were a guy, I'd be highly offended by the implication that my brain is located next to my balls. And yet, so many men revel in it, because it's such a convenient fallback. If society conditions men to be slaves to their hormones, then how can they ever be taken seriously as intelligent, moral human beings? Furthermore, if the woman is always blamed for somehow "provoking" unwanted attention to herself, then what is she expected to do...never go out in public, or dress like she time-traveled from the 18th century if she does?

The way I see it, we are asking the wrong questions. We need to stop questioning women's wardrobe choices, implying that it's a justification for assault or harassment. We need to stop asking why they find themselves in compromising situations with men who want to take advantage of them. It's one thing to miscalculate the risk, especially if alcohol is involved; it's completely another to have specific boundaries, and be unfairly blamed if those boundaries are crossed without consent.

Conversely, we should ask ourselves why we have made it acceptable for men to "rate" women based on sex appeal, and to treat them as trophies or conquests. And furthermore, why are women deemed slutty for doing the exact same thing?

There is something wrong with our sexual ethics is we continue to justify these attitudes. We are missing crucial opportunities to respect and learn about both sexes if the perpetrators of this blatant rape culture are written off as nothing more than "jerks," while their female targets are typically assumed to be temptresses.

Funny how I have a laundry list of reasons why certain aspects of feminism are damaging to women (not to mention that someone once told me I couldn't be a feminist because I'm also against abortion), but this is one issue I've grown passionate about lately, and I can't sit back and accept that this is simply "the way things are."

Okay, end rant. In other news, feel free to ooh and aah over these new puppies my family is adopting:

Names, as of now, are still TBA.

What if the American church was persecuted?

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?

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.

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?

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.

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.

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?

What I Owe Humanity

One of my dreams is to become all things to every living person.

 

But what will it take for me, in my factory-made clothes and with unscarred feet,

to place my heart in the middle of someone else's country?

Will my own pursuit of life suddenly make more sense

by cramming other wayward journeys in the files of my head?

 

In becoming every story that mankind has ever known,

to do more than merely sympathize, but absorb the pains of others

in my fragile little bones, I make myself understand the difference

between pain and fear. Fear precedes pain always, and pain

is the breaking down of purposelessness. Pain is for those

without mandatory suffering to justify the story.

 

To become every experience, I must learn to carry love.

I must carry on in heaviness the carefully-chosen words

designed to latch on searching hearts.

The "Someday" Fallacy

My ideal "someday" is hopefully not in the far-off, impossible to determine future. By this time next year, I hope -- expect? -- to be moving into my first apartment and starting grad school (some place far from Ohio, of course). I have no major expectations for this imaginary Apartment in the Sky, other than a) I get to have my princess bed, and b) a wall-to-wall bookshelf (no one will ever succeed in convincing me that it's better to have a Kindle for books because it's not as much of a pain in the butt to schlep across the country. Forget that, my books are as dear to me as flesh-and-blood children).

Except...here's where the fallacy part comes in...it will not be the perfect escape I imagine it will be, simply because perfection doesn't exist this side of heaven. Case in point: this entire summer. I can't believe LT is over already. I can't believe I've been home (whatever "home" is) for exactly a week now. I didn't have any plans, per se, for the summer, only expectations. And nearly every single one of those expectations were turned on its head. My plans for "someday" will inevitably be flipped as well. This does not necessarily have to be a bad thing. It's just an inevitable thing. And you would think, at 22 years old, I'd have figured that out by now.

I got a new job! I am now making yummy bagels at Bruegger's (see Facebook job info: "Makes yummy bagels"). Quite a fitting job for a born-and-raised Jewish girl. And it literally *just* happened. Hadn't even been home a full 24 hours and already got hired. In this case, the "someday" fallacy surprised me in a good way. I'd been feeling an increasing panic about what the heck I'd do for money as the summer was coming to an end and not one of the 30+ places had called me back yet...and then I got this one. I feel more at ease now.

Oh and I adopted a new member of the Caplin family...say hello to Pippa!

And this little dude was very grateful to see me after 3 long months (and I him, of course):

Apparently laptops are more comfortable than his designated place on the fleece blanket on my bed. Hmm.

Pray that the "someday fallacy" doesn't completely mess with my ability to handle real-life hardships. I pray so much for patient endurance.