The cry of a conservative: not all of us are schmucks

First, a preface: I think I finally found a church!

Admittedly, I've been using my church in Kent, h2o, as the measuring stick every time I went shopping for one. Nothing will ever compare, of course, but I feel much more at home in a small, humble church plant. Especially when it's made up of staff who aren't afraid to admit they have no clue what they're doing just yet...as opposed to a super huge mega-church with mosh pits and amphitheaters.

Also a plus: 3/4 of the congregation is made up of seminary students, so fitting in was no problem when I recognized many faces already. During a "welcome to Denver" dinner last night, one of the pastors outlined the goals he has in mind for this new church. Somewhere in the middle of this talk, he stopped speaking. I was too engrossed in my sandwich to realize it was because he was crying.

This guy broke down in tears when explaining the mission of this new church: to minister to the community. To be Jesus to those who are lost. We are not a church that exists just so we can learn to be better Christians, like many other churches in the area. His heart just broke when he talked about that.

And I realized something about myself: I don't think my heart has ever literally snapped in two over "the lost." Rather, I just get angry. Does that make me a "bad" Christian? Perhaps an overly opinionated one (hardly anyone who knows me will dispute that). Still a tad prideful as well. Here is why:

I came from an environment where it was "cool" to be liberal. Yet the same people who prided themselves on being open-minded are actually some of the most intolerant people I've ever met. A former co-worker I'll call Steve made this post on Facebook today: 

oh im sorry what? the bible was written by whom? and in what language? who deciphered it? and why do you think all the answers lie in one book?

These are great questions; it's just too bad they were asked in a bitter, critical tone. The sad irony is, if I were to make a similar comment about his or any "liberal" person's beliefs, I'd be called a bigot faster than I can think to say "Jesus loves you."

That's an extremely broad generalization. But I think we all know at least a handful of people who fit this description in some way or another.

This isn't a rant about so-called Christian persecution in the United States. Rather, it's an issue of the pot picking fights with the kettle, not realizing they're both black. Because some Christians are more than guilty of being judgmental and closed-minded in ways that make Jesus cry.

Save the criticism for those Christian conservatives. Not the whole lot of them.

I respect those who can frame their disagreements in respectable, intelligent ways. I can't help but feel righteous anger toward those who champion open-mindedness to everyone *except* those who happen to be more conservative. I think of what I've learned in seminary thus far: the lessons in biblical context, the culture of the time period in which the Bible was written, the values of the day that made Jesus' parables so gosh-darn scandalous.

It makes me angry that some people are content to form their opinions on stereotypes, and not the truth.

I promise you, not all of us are schmucks. But at least give us a chance to prove it.

Someone you already know on "Someone You Already Know"

For a while now I've been trying to come up with a title that aptly describes the content of this blog. I think I've finally found one! We'll see if I still like it in a week.

Already one person has bought and finished my new book...okay, so this person happens to be a close friend (close enough to ask me to be one of her bridesmaids, anyway!). Honoring the code of Best-Friend's-Manship, she was honest about what she thought. She liked it...but had some questions about plot issues that weren't quite resolved. I'd like to explain those issues here.

First of all, this is a book about "real life," so naturally, not everything is resolved neatly in the end. I won't give away spoilers, but I will just say that the conclusions we are looking for often take time, and to include that time in a single novel would require lots of filler pages describing all the things we do (or don't do) that are mundane and impractical because we are waiting for something to happen. I created two characters who are done with waiting for things to happen: waiting for justice, waiting for people to change. So I don't make them suffer like the reader would suffer if I made everything end neatly.

In one chapter, the character Katherine sporadically decides to go by a different name (unofficially). She says "Call me Kate," but nothing further comes of that. She is not called Kate by any of the characters for the rest of the book. Why is that?

This scene happens after she is trying on a new hat; a replacement for the old one that was once her trademark. It's the same style of hat, but a different color. In essence, she is putting on a new identity, and as I of all people would know, sometimes starting over means re-inventing yourself, and for some, that could mean a name change. Even if that name change is only a nickname.

But as my friend pointed out, the name change doesn't stick. This is to show that starting over isn't as simple as changing your surroundings, or trying to be somebody else. The past follows the person who was there. The long-term issues that need to be dealt with don't just disappear because we want to. For anyone who has been through something awful and is trying to start new, there are moments in between "Trapped in oblivion" and "The new normal" that give us hope. There are moments of happiness that are fleeting, but enough to encourage us to keep going. The thought of being someone else as a form of escape is enticing...but it isn't always realistic. Eventually, hopefully, we will learn that who we are should not change with our circumstances. But the convictions we gain from them do. We are more than what life throws at us.

So, I hope that made a bit of sense. And I hope you won't be afraid to ask me any questions that you have, or maybe leave some customer feedback on Amazon? That would be great! (And yes, this time I published in paperback AND e-reader format!).

The impending birth of book two!

It's officially October...that means my book is almost here! Still no official release date yet, but you can pre-order directly from the publisher. It will be on Amazon and in e-book format soon!

For the first time I'm actually thankful for the new Facebook timeline format, because it's a perfect place to post my new banner:

This is a quote from the back cover, which should technically read "Revealing, important truths that every woman needs to know." What a difference a little punctuation can make! But that's still accurate (can you tell how strongly and passionately I feel about this message?). And, if you're just as excited about defeating rape culture as I am, you can join my Facebook group!

After this comes out, my next "published" writings will be blog posts from now on. Grad school is completely taking over my life. But I will always have time to promote the messages in this book, not because I love to see my name in print, but because this is a subject that affects EVERYONE. Sexual abuse is more common than most of us would like to believe, and it's quite fitting that this book is being released during Domestic Violence Month. It would mean a lot to me if people could post their feedback in the form of a customer review on Amazon after reading, regardless of whether you loved or hated it. If it was too triggering, say so. Part of me honestly hopes that it is, just a little bit, because we need to be disturbed by this in order to advocate against it. Writing it was an integral part of healing for me, I hope those who read it feel the same.

Continuing the humility project

Summary of grad school so far: burnout happens.

I'm not quite at the point of being so busy that I want to tear my hair out, but I know my time is short when a novel I haven't read yet goes untouched for over two weeks, even though I want to read it. I've forgotten what it's like to be staring at words all day, so all I want to do after class is something that doesn't require me to think: like watch movies. Play the "Who do I know from high school who's getting married?" game. Play with my roommate's kitties. Anything but reading!

It's surprisingly difficult that the books I have to read for class are mostly all Bible commentaries...and then, of course, there's the Bible itself. Who would have thought that one day I'd be assigned Scripture readings for homework? I'm definitely not at Kent State anymore. I am "required" to read Scripture for reasons I'd normally never think to, like to make note of linguistic patterns and cultural nuances. It's tempting to mentally check that off my to-do list as killing two birds with one stone; got my homework and my "quality time" with God done for the day. But I know that's not how it works. Reading the Bible to learn is not always the same as reading it to get closer to Jesus. You'd think it's possible to do both, but not all the time.

My attempt to learn how to walk in humility has been...well, humbling. Most people here know me as Beth, and I don't feel as much pressure to stand out, because I'm not competing for anything or trying to impress anybody. I'm here to learn, and I'm here to start over. What's the point of starting over if you bring everything you're known for back home with you? I'm referring to the old me who had to prove she was worth something through her relationships, her accomplishments, and her "unique" testimony.

It's hard though, being in seminary, and listening to gentile professors talk about the Old Testament. I confess that I am a bit of a snob when it comes to hearing other Christians talk about what I always considered to be "my book." There's a self-righteous part of me that must resist the temptation to snicker when a classmate refers to "us" (everyone in a particular lecture) as being "grafted" into the Jewish family tree. It's difficult not to be that annoying person who raises her hand with a snotty-sounding "Excuuuuuse me" whenever someone butchers a Hebrew word.

Actually, just today, one professor asked the class "How many people learned about the Old Testament growing up?" I had to fight the urge to say: "How many people only had the Old Testament growing up?" But I didn't, because everyone has a class with that one person who always has something snarky to say, and I don't want that person to be me.

That's all a big part of my commitment to humility: not using my testimony as some kind of bragging right. Once I was done hiding from it, I made sure people knew about it in both campus ministries I've been a part of. Why? Because the assumption that I was raised in the church like "everybody else" seemed so dull to me. But I don't need that kind of attention here. I will share my testimony when it's relevant, not to "compete" with anyone.

For someone who's always wanted to be famous, though, it's easier said than done.

But that's why I'm here, isn't it? To learn. And not just academically :)

Author's note: Why I wrote a book about rape culture

This is the introduction to Book #2, Someone You Already Know, due this Fall :)

It’s been said that fiction contains a significant degree of autobiography. So, before you begin this book, you should know why I felt it necessary to write about sexual assault and rape.

      

When I was a sophomore in college, I met a girl I’ll call Megan. I met her through a guy who asked me out on a date – a date that crashed and burned when it became clear he wanted more to happen that night than dinner and a romantic comedy. Megan told me later on that this boy had assaulted her one night at a party; I refused to believe her. Why? Because she and this boy were part of a bigger circle of friends who ate lunch together daily, in the same booth, in the campus dining hall. At the time, I couldn’t fathom how or why she could stand to be around him if what she said was true. In my mind, she was not acting like I thought a “true victim” should.

     

In one act of terrible judgment, I told her what I thought of the situation. Needless to say, we are no longer friends. Two years later, after ending my own abusive relationship, I realized how wrong I was to judge her. The same accusations I made toward her – Why do you still hang out with him? Why haven’t you pressed charges? – were the same questions I would face from some of my own friends. It was then that I realized the dynamic of abusive relationships and sexual abuse, in general, is far more complex than we realize. Thus, the idea for this book was born.

      

This novel is, at its core, fiction. The characters are products of my imagination, but they are also composites based on the stories of real people. This is not a book written to entertain, rather to invoke serious questions and promote dialogue about why we hold on to misconceptions that further traumatize and alienate survivors of abuse. To set these important dialogues in motion, I’ve included a discussion guide in the back of this book.

      

Because sexual abuse is such a complex, personal topic, I understand that not everyone will agree with my conclusions. There may be some who hold on to their previously conceived notions of what is or is not considered abuse, and how a victim is “supposed” to act. That’s okay; what really matters is that we are willing to suspend our judgments long enough to give people a chance to be heard.

      

For all I know, acting like nothing had changed was Megan’s way of deflecting the severity of what had happened to her. Maybe she was afraid of not being believed, of putting her friends through the stress of having to choose sides. Maybe that boy threatened her with more violence if she told. All or none of these possibilities could be true; if not for Megan, then certainly for scores of other women. 

There are many things I could say about how to act (or how not to act) toward someone who has experienced abuse, but every person’s story is different, and every person will respond in his or her own way. One fact remains true: Rape and sexual assault are some of the most under-reported crimes in America, if not the world. Many perpetrators of these atrocities never see a day in court, or the inside of a prison cell. This is largely because shame and social stigmas prevent people from coming forward. Let’s do what we can to rid ourselves of bias and condemnation, so those who are suffering from abuse don’t have to suffer alone. 

Two checks for Bucket Item #1!

So much craziness in what feels like such a short time...grad school has officially begun!

As is the tradition of higher education, the first three days have consisted of reviewing the syllabi and class expectations, so I can't give a review of how classes are just yet. Thankfully, my classes are too big for those awkward, first-day icebreaker games. Unfortunately, my classes are too big to feel like I can really get to know anybody (save for Biblical Hebrew, which has only five people in it, but we're not supposed to speak much English in that class). So, updates on that will have to come later.

Now, I have bigger news. Halo Publishing likes my new manuscript, and wants to publish it!! That makes two self-published books in one year, and one very, very broke graduate student. Trust me, I do not intend to make this a habit; the plan is still to get my name on the New York Time's best-seller's list so I won't have to keep paying for self-publication. I can imagine the responses already...is she serious? Is the expense really worth it? I believe the answer is yes, and no, it's not just to have the glory of seeing my name in print once again.

The same day I received an acceptance email from Halo, I de-friended from Facebook a college friend who "joked" about going to rape his wife. Believe me, I like jokes as much as the next normal person; but threats of violence are not joke material (as discussed in my analysis of Daniel Tosh's tasteless comedic comments of a similar vein). This is why the new book had to be written: because rape culture is a wide-spread epidemic that affects even the most well-intentioned people.

Just for the record, I don't believe my friend really intended to rape his wife; but that he thinks the idea is worthy of a few chuckles is enough to prove my point. The jokes, the laughs, and the trivialization of rape don't cause it to happen. Only the rapist is responsible for rape, but making fun of it just makes it extremely difficult for victims to be taken seriously. Unfortunately, this is the sort of thing that is hard to understand unless you or someone close to you has experienced it.

So, will my little novel really make much of an impact? I don't know. I'd like for it to at least bring comfort to those who have survived assault of any kind, and give them hope. I'd like readers to come away with a better understanding of what consent is and what it isn't; that there is no such thing as 'asking for it' with clothing alone; and that it's not at all unusual to still have feelings for someone who hurt you like that, because most of us want to believe the best about people, and feelings don't come with a light switch.

There is so much I could go on about, but maybe it's better to save it for the press :) There is no official release date yet, but I will post information as soon as I find out!

(Oh, and I do recall promising some mountain pictures. This isn't the best one, but it's from my beloved Estes Park):

Where I ought to be and when

Three days and 1300 miles later, I have finally arrived in glorious Colorado!! And today, after finishing all my unpacking and driving my mother to the airport, I made my first "pilgrimage" of sorts back to Estes Park, where I spent my summer last year. Unfortunately, I didn't plan it very well, as the weather no longer looks as promising as it did when I first got here. So while I have satisfied my Kind Coffee withdrawal, I may not make it back to the Y today. But, there are 11 more days before my semester begins. So perhaps another day...

At no other time did I think to myself "SB, you're not in Ohio anymore" than when I made the drive up here. After picking out the perfect playlist and setting my cruise control to 80, it was just me and mountains, mountains, mountains for two glorious hours.

Oh, did I mention there were lots of mountains?

Almost immediately, I felt something close to that freedom I've been craving for so long. Hope feels real again...it's something I don't quite know how to explain, except that it's way more than a fleeting feeling of happiness. It makes me realize just how necessary all the spiritual and emotional stretching of last summer was.

Still, it feels strange to be back here again. There are lots of memories here, and not all of them good. But what is waiting for me here is much preferable than what I am leaving behind (everything but the people I love most in Ohio, that is). I look down at my "Choose Joy" tattoo, my souvenir from the last time I was here, and realize that I am a different kind of "joyful Christian" than what the culture projects. The joy that I am discovering is far from a light, bubbling over kind, though I do have that from time to time.

On a normal day, the joy I have is more of a quiet, contemplative sort. It's not loud, it's not boastful, or immediately visible. Another thing I don't quite have words to explain. I can offer one analogy: the feeling you get after eating a warm bowl of soup on a cold winter day; a calming, settling feeling. Maybe that's a tad cliche, but it's all I can come up with for now.

The more I see of this place, the more profoundly aware I am of how much I've been blessed. I have a beautiful condo for the amazing price of $300 a month; I have an awesome roommate with two precious kitties I am quickly learning to love (even if it makes me miss my own kitty in Ohio that much more). I haven't been here a week, yet I already have a job. While I'm slightly afraid of how I'll keep up with the academic rigor of grad school, I feel much more at peace now than I ever have before. Life is surprisingly good. I'm almost afraid to put it in writing because I'm very superstitious, but the more days pass by, the more I see that it's true. It's okay to actually admit it every once in a while!

Sooner or later, I will post some pictures. In the meantime, I'm going to wait out this rain from the haven of Estes Park's best coffee house and catch up on some more writing.

Fill the glass, these last few days have gone so fast

So this is it, then. This move is about to happen. All my belongings are packed and now my biggest struggle is to smoosh it all in my tiny little Mazda.

Oh and when I say "belongings," what I really mean is "books." Four giant shelves worth, all divided by genre: Religion, history, fiction, and miscellaneous. They are the most precious items I own. Is that sad? What non-readers fail to understand is that there are pieces of my life in all of these books: from childhood heroes to the ones that kept me up at night sobbing, these books are like my children. The thought of leaving ANY of them behind is appalling. So I will take the chance of adding another 100 pounds to my vehicle. But I will still make plenty of room for my roommate:

I said to Pippa, "Wiggle your nose if you're excited for Denver!" Nose-wiggling ensued. I take that as a good sign :)

Now comes the part where I freak out about all the things you'd expect of someone who is literally packing up her life and moving it to an unfamiliar place...will all my crap fit in my car? Can I make it all the way across the country without my engine crapping out on me again? And then there are the "long term" fears: how the heck am I going to pay back all these loans?! Will I be able to find a job? Is this really the right school? What the heck am I doing?!?!?

But nothing feels as scary as starting something brand new. That, and leaving behind the most amazing guy I've ever known...but, if all goes according to plan, I'll be seeing him in Denver next year. So many changes in such little time. Who can keep up? If I didn't obsessively journal every detail over the last few months I would hardly believe that any of this has happened. I'd still think I'm too scared and too lazy to leave my suburban Ohio box.

So here's to venturing off into the big world of grad school and real adulthood. To learning how to cook with more than just a microwave. To figuring out a monthly budget and actually sticking to it. To stop being a whiny baby about going to the gym. To budgeting not just my money, but also my time, so I can actually study...and maybe finish my book in the process.

Last but not least, here's to leaving the past behind and starting over. To taking advantage of the mountains and re-learning how to ski. And making new friends.

To Colorado we go!!!

Theology-flavored word salad

When not overrun with pictures of engagement rings, weddings, and new babies, my newsfeed is now a feeding frenzy for politics. I actually don't mind these posts as much as other people seem to; I'd much rather read an opinion about a current event than what someone had for lunch today, what they're doing tonight (unless I'm invited), or how much they loooooooove their boyfriend/girlfriend. Because current events are important.

I've held back posting my opinion about Chick-Fil-A supporting anti-gay organizations for two reasons: One, most of what I'd like to say has already been said...500 times. Two, I'm still figuring out where I stand as far the line between business and politics is concerned. On the one hand, part of me doesn't care what an employer believes, so long as he makes quality products. Then again, I'm not a fan of having my hard-earned dollars go toward a cause I don't believe in, like everyone else. As for Chick-Fil-A specifically, I've only eaten there once, and was not impressed. I'm trying to cut down on fast-food chicken.

What's been bothering me about the back-and-forth debates is not the stances people have, but the way they argue them. Naturally, people stand against gay marriage for religious reasons; people also favor gay marriage for religious reasons, too. I can't count the number of times I've seen a statement like this pop up over the last several days: "We need to stop judging people for who they love! Jesus preached tolerance and acceptance, not condemnation!" Cue 50+ "likes" and a handful of "Yeah, tell those conservative bigots where to go."

Winning an argument is never more important than trying to understand someone, but I'm having a hard time keeping my mouth shut when people put words in Jesus' mouth that he never actually said. What Bible are people reading where the words "tolerance" and "open-mindedness" are preached? The Jesus I've read about in the gospels had more, much more to say about conviction of sin and repentance than the fuzzy "love your neighbor" mantras people like to slap on bumper stickers and coffee mugs.

But what does it mean to "love" a neighbor? Or to "judge" them? It saddens me that people equate judgment with condemnation; we all make judgments, every day. There's "good judgment," like looking both ways before crossing the street, and "bad judgment," like choosing to drink and drive. Judgment helps us make choices; condemnation is deliberately putting someone down.

Love, on the other hand, is not allowing people to continue in their sin. Love is gently rebuking someone if they are struggling, and guiding them back to where they should be. This may not make sense to those in a secular world where morality is considered relative, but in Church World, we are ALL accountable to each other. The church misses the mark by not having the courage to get involved in the lives of its members. If that's too invasive for you, see Hebrews 10:24-25, or Proverbs 27:17.

I never understood why "tolerance" is such a virtue anyway. I tolerate it when someone is driving in front of me ten miles below the speed limit, or when the air conditioner breaks on a 90 degree day. I tolerate because I HAVE to. Why would we encourage that in our treatment of other human beings? When I think of "acceptance," I think of learning to deal with something, without complaining. Again, not a very loving or compassionate response. Doesn't sound at all like something Jesus would favor.

A confession from your friendly neighborhood rapist

The following post from STFU, Rape Culture! is perhaps one of the most disturbing things I've ever read. It's a very revealing look into the mind of what many of us would describe as a "typical" guy...one who also happens to be a serial abuser.

The sad truth is, he (I use the pronoun "he" in the general sense, not referring to a specific person) is most likely someone you've met before. Someone you might consider to be an all-around "nice guy." Experiences like his are the reason why rape and sexual assault are the most under-reported crimes in America, if not the whole world.

Not gonna lie: this is very disturbing stuff. If you can stomach a confession about how a man gets away with rape, I encourage you to read it, because it does well to explain why so many women are afraid to come forward. Here it is.


Done now? Disgusting, wasn't it? I for one had to hold back bile. But, a few thoughts:

I must say, this is a very brave confession, even though it's flawed (come on, the guy says he's only "somewhat remorseful"?? What the hell?). BUT, I will credit him with this: he's aware of the fact that he has committed rape. How many men who've done what he's done will call it for what it is? I think the majority would still consider themselves "good guys." They'd resort to blame games like "You know you wanted it," "You're so hot I can't keep my hands off you," and the like.

I'll even hazard a guess that there are guys out there who do those things, and legitimately don't know they are committing a crime. We are so deeply entrenched in a culture that puts pleasure on a pedestal, it's no wonder there are people who see coercion as just a means to a self-gratifying end, nothing more.

My next book is based on experiences like these. While fiction (in the sense that the characters have made-up names, but are composites of real people in real scenarios), I'm hoping it will resonate with the scores of women who have found themselves in similar situations, but don't know what to call them, or how to deal with them.

One of the take-home messages of the novel (and there are many) is that rape culture affects more people than you think; therefore, it's important to take seriously those who are brave enough to come forward about it. Don't second-guess them. Don't pepper them with personal questions. Refrain from hasty judgments like "Well why did you stay with him?" "Why didn't you just leave?" "Why haven't you called the cops?" You don't know what you yourself would do unless it's happened to you. Don't presume to know otherwise; you really don't. And even if you yourself have experienced something similar, your reaction to it will NOT be the same as another person's.

I plan on including a series of discussion questions in the back. Whether anyone looks at them or takes them seriously, who knows...but I will feel better as both an author and a future crisis center employee if I can leave the reader with something more valuable than just a story. I want people to read it and re-think the kind of jokes they tell, the behaviors they find acceptable, and what it really means to respect boundaries. It's a small step toward a day when confessions like the one above are read with the same amount of shock and disgust one would have if he confessed to kidnapping a stranger and raping her in an alley.