Same kind of Christian as me?

Some people are of the opinion that one needs to be a certain age or have a certain amount of “life experience” before they earn the right to write a memoir.

I’m 25 and wrote my first memoir at 22. I’m contemplating writing a second.

The only reason I’m considering this is because the kind of memoir I am interested in reading does not exist. At least not that I know of.

There are a plethora of memoirs out there about finding faith, losing it, and the grueling process of finding it again (see Addie Zierman’s When We Were on Fire, Elizabeth Esther’s Girl at the End of the World, and Rachel Held Evans’ Faith Unraveled for some awesome examples). But one thing these women have in common is their faith journey began in a church from early childhood. If you know me at all, you know that is not my life.

I want to read more books about people who chose Christianity after growing up in an environment that was staunchly against it.

I want to read more books about people who continue to choose Christianity despite the inevitable bumper-car effect of old cultural mores clashing with new ones; of old lingo that doesn’t jell with a new spiritual vocabulary; and the Pariah Syndrome that comes with being one of few people in your church with this particular background, which you are not ashamed of, but refuse to talk about because you are a person who desires to make friends, not some Show and Tell presentation.

If those books exist, I have yet to find them. It is my hope that if I were to write a book like this, it will bring other people with similar experiences out of the woodwork and into my favorite coffee shop to talk to me.

As of now, the people who share or at least relate to these experiences live in my laptop, not in my city. They can be found in organizations like Christians for Biblical Equality, but they live all over the world, not down the street.

The idea of “biblical equality” started with the idea that women can and should be able to lead people as male pastors do. But I want to take this definition further and expand it for people who worship differently than the “mainstream” Christian does: people who find standing during worship songs uncomfortable (and sometimes the lyrics tacky); people who feel squeamish when asked to pray out loud before a group; people who long for community but feel excluded because they aren’t extroverted or “outwardly spiritual” enough.

“Biblical equality” can mean that your worship is as valid and meaningful as my worship. I don’t see this idea expressed often enough.

I’m currently working on a piece that I hope to submit to a popular blogger as a guest post, so it won’t appear on my blog yet. But I hope to use it as a starting point for the maybe-memoir I might write. Because when it comes to improving community and making all members of the body of Christ feel welcome, there’s not enough paper in the world to discuss it.

There's a fly in the soup; there is patriarchy in my religion

As the information under my picture suggests, I am a fan of people who devote their lives to unpopular causes. Perhaps I should add: even if I disagree with them.

I applaud actress Kirsten Dunst for speaking up about femininity and the definition of womanhood (even if I don’t entirely agree with how she defines these things):

I feel like the feminine has been a little undervalued. We all have to get our own jobs and make our own money, but staying at home, nurturing, being the mother, cooking—it's a valuable thing my mom created. And sometimes you need your knight in shining armor. I'm sorry. You need a man to be a man and a woman to be a woman. That's why relationships work.

I occasionally read PluggedIn movie reviews. It’s sponsored by Focus on the Family, but the reviews can be snarky and funny. I take issue with their response to Ms. Dunst’s words:

“[Dunst’s] viewpoint is increasingly challenged these days, and it's harder and harder to see the proper path forward while still holding tight to the past, to the traditions God Himself initiated.”

Read their full article here. Some of the comments are excellent.

My head is spinning as I try to remember where in the Bible it states that all women must be stay-at-home mothers and let their husbands be the sole breadwinners. I don’t even recall where it states that all women HAVE to become mothers. As a soon-to-be-married woman who doesn’t want kids (for now), it troubles me to think of the reactions I might face when I try shopping for a new church where my fiancé lives. Any attitude suggesting women have to be this or that is an automatic dealbreaker.

I cannot understand how it’s “unbiblical” for marriages to be treated as partnerships, where each couple makes decisions that are best for them and their families; why it’s considered unreasonable in many conservative circles for men to help out with chores and child-rearing; why a woman choosing to have a career is accused of neglecting her children. I went to daycare as a kid while my mom worked; I think I turned out okay. When my dad got sick and had to retire, mom took over financially. Do ultra-conservatives somehow believe they are above that possibility?

But no matter which path you choose, there is disdain to be met at every turn. The disdain for women who choose to be stay-at-home mothers is also backlash in the face of feminism. It has to stop.

I can’t deny that these attitudes have a direct impact on my faith and the way I relate to Jesus. Even though I firmly believe Jesus valued women (he saved the life of one about to be stoned for adultery, per Old Testament law, after all), if other Christians who claim to represent him cannot allow for equality in their definition of womanhood, then the result is simple: the church will have no women.

Respect, dignify, and above all, listen to individual women and their stories, or we leave the church. Engage with us in discussion and consider the impact of our leadership skills, or we leave the church. Maybe not all of us in droves, but this particular woman will pack her bags if things do not change.

I know this wouldn’t happen on a large enough scale to wake people up. Sadly, there are plenty of women perpetuating anti-feminist viewpoints, because they have never been taught what feminism is supposed to be: a radical notion that women are people; an idea that goes beyond politics, religious differences, and social status.

Ironically, I have met more women lately who actively promote patriarchy (like this woman who told me "We don't need feminism in America!"). They look at me like I’m holding a dead squirrel when I dare to admit I am a feminist. That, too, must stop. 

Always have to wear with a cross. Always.

This former seminarian life

What a crazy week it's been...I have completely re-routed my life plans for the next few years. It feels slightly insane, but I also have a strange, unfamiliar sense of peace now that has been sorely missing in my life for the last several months.

It has occurred to me that maybe I'm not supposed to be a counselor after all, and that I definitely should not have pursued that degree at a conservative Christian seminary. In the same way that it's never a good idea to make drastic changes to your hair while experiencing depression and anxiety, it's probably not a good idea to pack up your life, move 3000 miles away, and start a degree that you never expressed interest in before, at a school you know next to nothing about. The lesson I learned? Look before you leap. And be willing to let the people who know you best help direct you. They are often able to see things that you can't.

I have some nagging feelings regarding the fact that I will probably live the rest of my life with "just" a bachelor's degree. But where is that guilt coming from? It's pressure I put on myself, mingled with a skewed idea that somehow my intelligence is measured by the initials after my name. Well, deep down I know that's not true. And I don't have "just" a bachelor's degree; I worked my ass off for it, and I enjoyed doing it. I gave grad school a try for a year, and it wasn't for me. There is no failure in that. There is also a lot less debt to pay off, and that's a huge plus!

I have learned something else about myself, too: I do not thrive well in bubbles. Christian bubbles, political bubbles, any kind of restrictive environment where everyone around you shares basic core beliefs, and you find your worldview shrinking, not growing. Not every Christian is cut out for seminary. What was unique about my experience at Kent State was how challenging my environment was. I was surrounded by peers who were burned out on church because they were only exposed to negative examples of Christianity. This motivated me to try and live more authentically, especially when I decided to write a conservative column for my campus newspaper. There was a definite sense of being "watched." And it convicted me in the best possible way.

My on-campus church group met twice a week, and that is where I felt "fed." That was where I grew. The key, I think, was having a healthy balance of church life and secular life. That was non-existent at seminary, when most of my time was spent in the library writing exegetical papers, and in class, wanting to beat my head against my desk listening to other students talk about "the lost," and how we as Christians have all the answers.

I can honestly say that seminary brought up way more questions than answers. That's not a bad thing. Most importantly, it was as if someone was holding up a mirror of my old self, the one who thought all the answers to the world's ills were tucked neatly in Scripture. Obviously, it's not nearly as simple as that. I wish I hadn't had to pay (read: borrow) $20,000 to learn that lesson, but I'm not sorry I did. Education is never a waste.

Thanks to a few searches on Google, I learned that spiritual burnout is a real issue. It can make devoted Christians jaded at best; atheists at worst. I'm nowhere near relinquishing my faith completely, but I definitely feel burned out. Jesus is someone to know, not someone to study. When seminary schooling reduces him to merely a homework assignment, when Bible verses are used as platitudes in times of real struggle, and when I'm feeling frustrated and wondering what attracted me to Christianity in the first place, then the right thing -- the only thing -- to do is leave seminary. Because my faith matters to me still. I need to spend time with God on my own terms again. Spiritual discipline is not "homework," and I don't think it's fair to be graded for it.

So what will I do now? Well, I do have an English degree. Maybe I'll look into publishing or editing positions. I wish I were the kind of person who could see this new road as another new adventure, but I have way too much OCD for that. In the mean time, there is a stack of books in my bedroom calling my name -- books I haven't had time to read because I've been swamped to my ears in books about Freud and Pauline epistles. And they seem to be saying,

Welcome home, SB!

On breaking up with Christian Culture

Life is getting a little intense here in Seminary Land.

If you know me in real life, and have known me since my early college days, you may have been very concerned about the way I'd be influenced at a conservative Christian seminary. It is, after all, a complete 180 from Kent-read-Kent-write-Kent-remember-what-I-did-last-night Kent State. Of all the places in the world to find faith, when so many of my peers finally had the freedom to leave it!

But that's what I did. And I remember quite clearly, in the midst of cold-sweated fear of what my family and friends would think, the excitement of jumping head-first into a brand new world. It was exciting and terrifying like the first day of school. There were many things I embraced, or tried to, back then that I find very uncomfortable now. Ironically, going to seminary for the last year has done a lot to flip my faith inside out, and cause me to wonder what I thought was so appealing about it in the first place.

My theology hasn't changed much; the Gospel message never changes. But my view of church has. And other Christians I'm supposed to be in community with. Church culture as a whole.

Maybe I'm using the wrong words. I don't know if "Christian culture" is what I should be criticizing, or rather, Christian stereotypes. Can one really embrace a religion without its culture? The real problem may be that Christian culture is fine as it is; the flaws I find within it are a result of comparing it to the Jewish culture I grew up with, and miss dearly (is it obvious I still have soul-searching to do?).

I keep forgetting that belief in the Gospel is what makes one a Christian. Nothing else. But the Christian culture thing is problematic: something I find myself rebelling against, because I realize how much pretending is involved on my part. How much fakery and pretension. See, I'm not and never have been the happy-clappy, hand-holding, Christian-ese speaking kind of Christian. I've written before about my distaste for church groups that seem to imply worship music is the only kind of worship, period, and being forced to lead prayers as an introvert...or sit and listen to someone else pray them over me, because I'm too nice to say "I'm sorry, but that makes me uncomfortable. I appreciate the offer, though."

I've endured awkwardness many times in church settings, telling myself it will get better as time goes on. It never occurred to me until recently that it may not be a sin after all to speak up and be honest, but polite, about things I'm not comfortable doing. Things like praying out loud that contradict my personality and the ways I relate to God. Doesn't the beauty of community include diverse worship practices?

I hope the answer is yes. If not, then Church Culture and I may need to go our separate ways, because I am not growing. I am not learning. Instead, I sit pretending to be just as moved as everyone else, but inside I'm wondering what is wrong with me. In the end, I can't pretend to be something I'm not, just because that's what other people expect. That's not authenticity. That's wasting my time. Furthermore, it doesn't allow anyone else the chance of really getting to know me (I'm worth knowing, aren't I???).

I don't know what the ideal solution to this dilemma will be. But, while everyone else is standing and holding up their arms while the worship band is playing, doing what comes naturally to them, I'm doing what comes naturally to me: sitting, and writing in my prayer journal. Because worship goes beyond the bounds of Christian culture stereotypes. Worship is authentic, or nothing.

I am either an authentic Christian, or no Christian at all.

With thanks to the chutzpah of Rachel Held Evans for tackling subjects that many "good Christians" sweep under the rug, thus giving me courage to write a few of my own.

God takes crap and makes fertilizer

A timely excerpt about trials and forgiveness from Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter:

     I wish I could say that the rest of my senior year was relaxing and relatively trial-free. The following verse from James became the theme of my last few months of college: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (1:2-4). Naturally, this verse did not sit well with me the first time I read it. Consider it joy when facing trials? What kind of crazy logic is that? But setbacks are only setups for God to work. He makes all things work for the good of those who love him. The biggest trials we face are also where our calling for ministry can be found...

     As John was trying to convince me to fall back to our old ways the next time he’d return home, I also found out he was seeing someone else. To add further insult to an already gaping injury, the medium in which I discovered this information was Facebook. He couldn’t even tell me himself.

     That night started well enough. I had gone out to sing karaoke with the girls in my h2o bible study, and did not return until midnight. I now know better than to check my Facebook or email just before going to bed. That night was, without being melodramatic, the worst night of my life. I cried so hard I was dry-heaving and dizzy. When you find out that the man who has been a god-like figure in your life since you were seventeen is now in the arms of someone who isn’t you, it tends to wreck your world. Mine shattered instantaneously, and I’m still amazed at just how easy it was. 

     I realized that the timing of our inevitable downfall was actually in response to a prayer from the weekend before. I attended a women’s retreat with h2o and listened to a speaker talk about her struggle with a spiritually and emotionally damaging relationship in college. I felt as if she was addressing me personally. I perfectly understood the ugly cycle of giving in to the same old sin, even with the best of intentions to avoid it. I also understood the feeling of hopelessness that can lead to dangerous forms of compromise. 

     It was easy to stay in a relationship that was destroying me from the inside out because I firmly believed that was the best I’d ever have. In looking for a quick fix to my loneliness, I made a personal god out of a fellow human being who was incapable of fulfilling me. Even when I felt disrespected and worthless, I believed I could fix him when I couldn’t even fix myself. I remained convinced, despite warnings from Bethany and Anne, that the man I’d originally fallen in love with still lived somewhere inside him.

     I knew there was no way I could spend the night alone. Kaitlin was the first person I could think of to call, even though it was after midnight. The night I spent sobbing my guts out on her couch was the first time since accepting Christ that I felt so completely worthless. Even before my family found out about my faith, I don’t think I’d ever felt grief this big. This was a man I had known for half a decade, someone I loved with the depth of life itself, even if I was not being respected by him as a daughter of God should be. 

 

     What should have been only a five-minute walk from my dorm to her apartment took nearly half an hour because of all the snow I had to trudge through. By the time I made it to her place, I was a wreck and could barely stand up. We stayed up nearly all night, and I could not believe her when she told me how God would use this pain for glory someday. I could not believe her when she told me I deserved so, so much more than what I had settled for in a man. I felt that my self-worth was permanently shot to pieces, and no godly man would ever desire me as a girlfriend, much less a wife.  

     I needed to do a spring cleaning of my life more than ever, but even that could not be done completely on my own. I hardly ate, slept, or showered within the first week of my newfound “freedom” as an officially single woman. I thought that with enough prayer and support from close friends I could get through this, but I couldn’t. My mind was a broken record of all the things I should have done sooner, things I wish I’d said. 

     Eventually, I decided to get counseling so I could at least finish my senior year on a strong, healthy note. Sometimes I think it will be easier to forgive him than it will be to forgive myself. But I know there is no point in continually beating myself up. I know that the past cannot be changed or undone.

     Jesus’ attitude toward forgiveness never struck me as borderline insane until this moment. I had been hurt before, certainly, but never enough where the thought of forgiveness seemed completely impossible and ludicrous. To forgive someone who hurt me this deeply felt ridiculous and unnatural. It contradicted everything I know that is true about human nature. 

     But then, by sheer grace alone, I remembered how I became a Christian because of the fact that it is unnatural. Christianity calls its followers to rise above their natural condition, to be more than they could ever become on their own. It is completely counter-cultural, and the standards set by Jesus are often perceived as unrealistically high. His words about forgiving those who mistreat you have caused him to be labeled as crazy by many of his critics. But turning the other cheek is anything but a passive response. 

     Forgiving those that the world considers unredeemable is just one of many examples of embracing God’s vision for our lives. It is by no means a light and easy task, but it is necessary for healing. Many people equate forgiveness with excusing poor behavior, but the reality is that holding on to anger is emotionally crippling. It robs you of the chance to heal from tragedy. That’s not to say that it isn’t natural to grieve, but even now, while still grieving, I know that holding onto it for a lifetime and still hoping to heal is like gorging on cupcakes daily and still expecting to lose weight. Refusing to forgive someone who has wronged you only gives them permission to dominate your life. 

     Still, I continue to struggle with it every day. Some days are better than others, and then there are days I feel like I have fallen back to the hopeless pit I was stuck in before. Some days I have to force myself to pray even harder for the ability to choose life again. Hell hath no fury like the prayers of a broken-hearted woman.

     A song that is commonly sung in h2o services contains a verse that says “You make all things work together for our good.” That is another one of my favorite things about Christianity: the fact that no experience, good or bad, is ever wasted. As a friend of mine likes to say, God takes crap and makes fertilizer.