The Dominican Republic, part 1

Hey, girl, hey! 

I haven’t blogged in nearly a year, but here I am! 

Well, I can’t ever tell for how long I’ll be back because blogging is hard. Blogging the way I do – where I feel my heart and soul travel through my fingertips to the screen, is exhausting. And I’ve been in a place for awhile where that was simply not possible. It wasn’t possible because of normal busy life stuff, because of the same doubt stuff, and because of some mental health stuff that had been lying below the surface and decided to pop through.

A few months ago, I remembered that I always wanted to do foreign missions, and never have. I did go to Mexico with Grace once, but we also brought our kids, and it’s really hard to actually be involved in the missions work stuff and also parent. I had 1 and 3 yr olds with me, and I was exhausted – come to find out, I was pregnant with #3. Scott was there too, and we traded off a bit, but #pastorswifeproblems, he was much more essential than I was. It’s really ok, but I didn’t get the full experience. I wondered if maybe doing the thing I had felt so called to at 13 would help me find what I’m missing. Lucky for me, I have a friend who is a Missions Pastor, Benji, and he was able to fill me in on all their trips while we were all out on a double date. He recommended the first-timer’s trip – a trip to Hope House International, run by missionaries Michael and Amanda Braisted, to do a variety of things: manual labor, VBS, hospital visit, etc – to help figure out what sort of missions draws you in and suits your skills. It fit perfectly into my schedule and finances, so I signed up.

I am so grateful, that through donations and our church, I didn’t have to pay any of the fees, including my passport. The people of Grace are generous, and listened to God speaking to them, and I got to go on this trip with very little financial impact on my family.

I wish I would have blogged every day, but I was exhausted, and at the end of those kinds of days, words are hard. Words are less hard, now, though, so it's a little long to do them all at once. I'll break it into two parts. 

Please know that my general first response, probably from growing up in the church that I did, is to see myself as the problem, that my natural inclinations and feelings are wrong, sinful, in fact. I have no doubt that this clouded my experience, and that other people’s experiences varied greatly. When I felt guilty about something, I do not believe that everyone should have felt guilty, or even that it was wrong. I'm simply sharing my experience.

A cutie from the orphanage. More on them later. 

Day 1 was all travel, and we arrived at the Braisteds' home open to 23 people, warm and welcoming. And humid. Very humid. This desert rat didn’t even realize that 95% humidity was a thing that didn’t involve actual drops of water in the air. 

In the airport, I was immediately struck by how difficult life must be for immigrants who do not know the language, or know a few words (like I do of Spanish), but not nearly enough. I was overwhelmed by the not-knowing. I can’t imagine if I didn’t have a bunch of people with me, or translators, or if I was going to be living there. I just kept thinking of how I would feel if I was already overwhelmed and frustrated and someone said rudely, ‘Why don’t you just learn Spanish?!” People stared at me (#ginger), but no one acted frustrated or short with me, much less downright attacked me. 

Day 2 was Sunday, so, duh, we went to church at Iglesia Cristiana Oasis, which is where the Braisteds attend. They have their own Christian school that the church helps to fund, so that children from all socioeconomic groups can attend. We were kissed by all the women, and so welcomed by everyone. We sang in Spanish, sometimes vaguely remembering the English words and sometimes not. It’s amazing to me how a mess of Spanish and English all being sung together will be one of the most beautiful memories of my life. I was moved, truly moved, in that service. It was as if the Spirit of God was as heavy as the humidity that surrounded us, thick in the blessed breeze that blew through the building. Easily one of my top ten life experiences. We sang the same song a week later, at home, and I wept for the emotion I had felt the week before. However, this was probably the only time I "felt God" during the week. Now, I'm realizing that the antidepressants that I had weaned off in the beginning of August (under a doctor's care, because of unwanted side effects) may have been doing more than I thought, and this was probably my least exhausted time (depression and exhaustion definitely amplify my cynicism). 

We saw "The Monument," which was originally a home for the vicious dictator Trujillo, but became a monument to the revolutionaries that worked to overthrow him. At roughly the same time America was involved in The Civil Rights Movement, the Dominican Republic was being ruled by a murderous dictator. Think of how far we've come, and more importantly, NOT come, since the Civil Rights Movement. 

We also visited the Hope House Int'l land that day. We saw both the land and the Braisteds' vision for an orphanage system that reminds you of a family system. There will be 4 houses, with "parents" living in each. They have visions to be self-sustaining, through crops like plantains, bananas, and limes. They hope to have a soccer field and a play area, and to keep some of the natural forest for natural exploration. Let me just stop and say these two people are amazing. They've been in the Dominican for 10 years, and saw a need for true orphan care. There are estimated over 200,000 orphans living there, and the process of adopting is incredibly difficult and time-consuming. For Americans, both members of a heterosexual couple would have to live there for 3-6 months! And that's if everything else works out. They've been working tirelessly to create a place where kids could live and grow and thrive. There is extreme poverty on this island, and an extreme need to care for the fatherless. Mike and Amanda are lovely people, pouring their hearts, bodies, souls, and minds into caring for the least of these. Learn more about Hope House, and follow them on Facebook. 

Hope House Land
The tilled earth to the right is for crops. The casitas for housing children will be in the back. 

That night, Amanda spoke of how hard it is sometimes to go to church, that we know we need to look forward to it, but we sometimes get hung up, and just don’t want to. Then Benji spoke of being burnt out, and I was immediately moved to tears, like I was punched in the nose, and didn't understand the water leaking from my eyes! I didn’t think that could be me. I’m just the pastor’s wife. The pastor isn’t even burned out, how could I be? After I thought about it though, I realized, I’ve been active in ministry since I was 13 years old. I started teaching preschool in VBS the first year I was allowed to work, and never looked back. I fully believed (and was reminded often) that service was my duty and obligation to the church. I’ve not volunteered for very much at church in a long time. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. And while my many doubts certainly played a part (I just can’t teach kids that Jesus will always protect them), I think burn out did too. I haven’t had anything that I could pour out into others in a long time. Occasionally, something will pull at my heart, generally something involving the oppressed in some way, and meeting a physical need rather than a spiritual one, but I have not been routinely involved in serving in 2 years now. Scott immediately asked what my next step was, and I have no clue. If you've got suggestions, I'm open. 

The first night (after travel) of a mission trip is arguably the single worst time to realize that you're burnt out on ministry. I mean, nothing but ministry going on for the next 4 days. That's the predicament I was in after the first night. To be continued. 

Searching For Sunday Book Review

I was lucky enough to receive a preview copy of Searching For Sunday by Rachel Held Evans. Do you ever read something and think, "Oh my gosh. This is ME. This is exactly how I feel." Followed by the possibly-stalkerish thought "We should be besties," but maybe that's just me.

Rachel's words moved me to tears in so many ways. It brought up past and current hurts. It challenged me to see things in a different way. It pushed me to turn to Jesus when my heart is hurt, especially so when it's because of his followers. If you've ever wondered why so many American Christians spend so much time trying to one-up each other with "holiness." If you've ever thought that maybe we should put more energy into caring for orphans than opposing gay marriage. If you've ever been struck by doubt so heavy, you thought you'd never stand again, reach Rachel's book.

I've said for a long time now that I don't really care much for the stories of people who've never doubted. Not that those don't have value, they do. It just doesn't do it for me, personally. I want to hear about someone who not just stumbled from the lofty mountaintop of communion with God. I want to hear about someone who fell all the way down the mountain, tumbling, scraping, breaking bones along the way. Maybe they even turned to the sky and gave God the finger after that, wanting nothing to do with this Christian life. And then, somehow, found their way back to Him. Of course, they found His arms open wide. Those are the stories I want to hear. While that's not Rachel's story, nor is it mine (I'm far too afraid of smoting), because this story is so close to my own - the tumbling and scraping down the mountain, at least - that it is one I will return to again and again.

Rachel's book is centered around seven sacraments of the church. I thought I'd give a few of my favorite quotes, and explain its significance for me (all emphasis mine). Honestly, this is difficult because approximately half of my copy is underlined. But, I figure that wouldn't really serve the purpose of reviewing the book. I've chosen the quotes that impacted me, but I could have done this with quotes I feel are calling for a change in American Christianity. Maybe a blog post for another time.

Baptism
"The people didn't have to go to God anymore; God was coming to the people. And God, in God's relentless love would allow no mountain or hill - no ideology or ritual or requirement or law to obstruct the way. Temples could not contain a God who flattens mountains, ceremonial baths a God who flows through rivers. Repentance, then, meant reorienting one's life around this reality. It meant repenting of the old ways of obstruction and joining in the great paving of the path, in the demolishing of every man-made impediment between God and God's people, and in the celebrating of God's wild uninhibited presence filling every corner of the earth. It meant getting baptized in rivers and getting out of God's way. After all, with enough faith, a person can move a mountain . . .  even a mountain of her own making."

photo cred: Michelle Ziegler 

As one raised Southern Baptist, I understand the importance and beautiful symbolism of baptism. To this day, one of my favorite songs is Washed by the Water by Needtobreathe gives me chills and brings me to tears (they must be Baptist too, they have a real focus on baptism and rivers). But, this idea that baptism changed from a ceremonial bathing of feet to a anywhere-declaration of love and commitment moved me. As one who's built up mountains of theology, opinions, mistakes, doubt, and failures, I needed to hear this.

Confession
"We Christians don't get to send our lives through the rinse cycle before showing up to church. We come as we are - no hiding, no acting, no fear. We come with our materialism, our pride, our petty grievances against our neighbors, our hypocritical disdain for those judgmental people in the church next door. ... We come in search of sanctuary, a safe place to shed the masks and exhale. We come to air our dirty laundry before God and everybody because when we do it together, we don't have to be afraid."

Ruth Meharg illustrated each of the seven sacraments with birds. They are all gorgeous. Check them out at: http://society6.com/ruthmeharg

This sacrament is wholly unfamiliar to me, as a sacrament anyways. But the idea that we are here to be real with one another, to help one another, to hold one another up and share our trials, doubts, and difficulties is home to me. It's why I write. Funnily, I feel free to be that broken self everywhere except the church. That's something I'll be working through for awhile to come.

Communion
"But the gospel doesn't need a coalition devoted to keeping the wrong people out. It needs a family of sinners, saved by grace, committed to tearing down the walls, throwing open the doors, and shouting, 'Welcome! There's bread and wine. Come eat with us and talk!' This isn't a kingdom for the worthy; it's a kingdom for the hungry."

photo cred: Ashley Hamel

This section meant a lot to me; I already wrote a blog post about it. Yet, there's still so much more to say. I used to have a lot of food issues. I used to not drink alcohol because I thought it was bad. Over the last few years, I've gradually let go of those things, so the practice of communion really speaks to me - carbs and wine, no guilt! Just kidding. Mostly. More than that, it's the practice of being real. I believed, from as young as I can remember, that church is the place you put on the fake face for all the people watching - side effect of the fishbowl of being a PK. I still get anxious when I invite people to my house, thinking they'll be judging every tiny thing (What is that stain on the wall? Is there no jump house at this birthday party? Wow, those kids are LOUD. Why does this dish smell like socks? etc). The idea of communion being a place to invite people to see the real you (which, for me, sometimes requires a little wine), in your home, and you let them be themselves. That makes my heart lift with hope for the church more than anything else.

Confirmation
"No matter where I went to church, I realized, doubt will follow, nipping at my heels. No matter what hymns I sang, what prayers I prayed, what doctrinal statements I signed, I would always feel like an outsider."

"No step taken in faith is wasted, not by a God who makes all things new."

photo cred: Stephanie Baldwin Tresner

When I was younger, I was wholeheartedly Southern Baptist. I was Baptist Faith and Message, baptism by immersion, communion once a quarter, Sunday morning/Sunday night/Wednesday night, Republican, anti-feminist, all of it. As I began to question and shed some of these things, I began to wonder where I belong, if anywhere. That first quote hit me hard. I wasn't alone in my feelings, but I still felt - feel - like an outsider. And yet, denomination doesn't matter between me and God. My confirmation rests in the fact that I want to follow Him, wherever that leads, a denomination or not. My beliefs will be based on my communication with God, and no one else's, and God will honor that.



Overall, this book is about how we need church, and we don't have to find it under a steeple. We can find it in so many places, and that building with the cross high in the sky is just one of many. "Even when I don't believe in church, I believe in resurrection. I believe in the hope of Sunday morning."

photo cred: Julie Provost

I received a free copy of the book to read and review. All opinions here are completely my own. I received no compensation for this review. You can buy the book at most bookstores or at: http://rachelheldevans.com/searching-for-sunday

Take Me To Church

It may or may not surprise you, but this pastor's wife did not worship at church last Sunday morning. I think I literally heard 2 words: "The Cross..." and could not get my voice to sing a single word. My throat was too tight with tears.

But I did have church.

At home. In my bathtub. With the blood of Christ, a full worship band (on Pandora), bath salts named "Heaven," and teaching from Rachel Held Evans newest book, Searching For Sunday. And this was exactly what I needed. Today. 

Let's back up to what was essentially an abysmal Easter morning. Scott had to leave at 6:30 am because we're a vagrant church in the process of changing buildings, and things didn't go as planned, so we ended up with no building to worship in on Easter Sunday, and ended up having our Easter service in a park.

To quickly sum up, I didn't help my husband on one of his biggest work days of the year, I yelled at my kids, I didn't get to wash -much less curl- my hair, we were late because I shaved my legs, I was given the stinkeye and a reprimand at church when I tried to walk quietly to the back during prayer (which I was actually taught to do - walk while eyes are closed, but is, apparently, a whole thing), was called out for not singing during worship (whispered out? I don't know.), and I forgot extra clothes for my son being baptized. I was a mess before the second song finished. 

I stood separate from the service, thankful that my freckled skin gave me an excuse to move to the shade. I thought about how the church is where I feel most judged. How I put on my fake face at church more than anywhere else. How I'm more honest with 7th graders than I am with the people that I call my "church family." How I grew up living in a fishbowl, and somehow willingly jumped into another one. How church really stresses me out - getting kids ready, looking decent, saying the right things. Keeping the kids from running rampant through the building, answering questions I'd rather not, smiling and nodding. I wonder what people think of me, and if I'm honest, it's because I'm judging too. Wondering why someone lets their kid do something, or why someone thought that outfit was a flattering choice. Most of the rest of the time my motto is "to each her own" and "whatever works for you!"and I try to rein it in, but I feel so open and vulnerable, and (again with the honesty) wounded, by the church in general that I default to that nearly every time.  I was convicted that I need to "judge not, lest ye be judged."

That's my boy, getting baptized in full Easter attire. 

I made it through the service, then did the whole family dinner thing, the egg hunt thing, the clean-up thing, the pack-up the kids thing, the late Easter basket thing (because dad left crazy early), the promising to play with outside toys tomorrow thing, and the bedtime thing. 

Then, I went to church. 

As I read Rachel's section on Communion, I dissolved into tears. She was describing an experience giving communion to each and every person at a youth retreat - nerdy, cool, athletic, needy, white, black, chaperone, student. God welcomes us all to the table. She said, "This is Christ's body, broken for you" to each and every one, over 300 times. We are all welcome at God's table, as we are. No need for new dresses and shiny new shoes. No need for clean hair or shaved legs. No need to fix all your doubts and insecurities first. Just come to the table. "Communion has a way of flattening things out like that, a way of entangling our roots and joining our hands." - Rachel Held Evans

We need the table. We need the church. Rachel quoted Norah Gallagher, "On those days when I have thought of giving up on church entirely, I have tried to figure out what to do about Communion." We need the experience of family around the table. I have always felt that my favorite time with my kids is dinnertime. I've never been able to pin down the reason, but it has something to do with intentionally looking at each other, sharing the same experience, and stopping everything else that swirls around us in our busy days. Rachel (she responded to a comment of mine on Facebook, so I'm taking liberties and saying we're on a first-name basis) discusses how communion doesn't have to be the wafer and grape juice, but can be the casseroles and desserts we bring to families, or the spaghetti dinner that lasts well into the night, discussing God, life, parenting, school, work, and all the myriad other things affecting our lives. 

I discussed with Scott right away about how to bring more Communion into our lives. I feel like I'll be able to open up more in my own home, over pasta, brownies, and a bottle of wine. Perhaps that vulnerability (will people notice the stains on the walls? the broken couch?) will push me to remember the way I really feel - to each their own. That experiment will be underway soon. How do you have Communion?  

Also, a full review of Searching For Sunday will be on the blog next week! Look for it! If you already want it, you can preorder and get free gifts! See www.SearchingForSunday.com for more details. 

I Need to Apologize

Thanks to a Facebook comment from a friend, I realized I need to make an apology about my negative attitude towards Christians and The Church, particularly the American groups of those.

I didn't realize I had been negative, so when she called me on it, I was a little shocked. I knew that I have been disenchanted lately, and upset lately, but I didn't think I had been overly negative. I wondered how much of my negativity has been on Facebook or other public scenarios, and how much of it had been on my couch. Did it even matter? So, I began to think: Is there a deep negativity inside me towards Christians?

As I introspectively brushed my teeth, I realized, yes. Yes, there is something there. And I realized it was anger. I am angry. I am angry that I was nearly 30 years old before I realized that Jesus wasn't a Republican (that's embarrassing to admit). I didn't think that Jesus was literally a Republican, but I believed if He were alive today, He would agree with the party line (that's not less embarrassing, but maybe more understandable?). I am angry that I spent so many years thinking that the only clear way to heaven was through a Southern Baptist doctrine, and that I thought I was very progressive for thinking that other denominations could go to heaven, but they'd have to not really believe some of their doctrines (that's embarrassing to admit). I'm angry that I spent years believing that bad things happen to people because of something bad that happened, even if I never articulated it into thoughts. I'm angry that I thought myself better, more intelligent, than the Calvinist who told me that aborted babies would fulfill their predestination, but tried to shrug off my conscience when I wondered how God would send entire people groups to hell because they'd never heard of Jesus (again, embarrassing). 

I thought and thought, and while there are a few individuals I'm angry at, the first and foremost is myself. I am the one who cobbled together those beliefs. I am the one responsible for the conclusions I made. 

I thought, "What is my goal when I share things like this or say things like that?" I know that my ultimate desire is to remind Christians of our origins of loving God and loving people. I want people to see Jesus the way He represented himself - as a servant, a compassionate man, a lover of all people.When people think of Christians, I want them to think less and less of people like Pat Robertson and Phil Roberts and more and more of people like Jen Hatmaker and Pope Francis. But, do my methods match my goal? 

Very quickly, I realized, no. My methods this week were exactly the method that I find so bothersome: post something on Facebook, and pretend it tells the world something they didn't already know, that they desperately need to know (do I even need to say it? that's embarrassing to admit). Worse yet, read something quickly, think, "Yes! That's what I think, so it's obviously right!" and post it, hoping to enlighten others and bring them to your way of thinking (wow, really embarrassing).  I guess old habits die hard. 

So, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry to have acted that way. Furthermore, I'm (obviously) embarrassed that I acted like such a tool. If that post, or any other even remotely negative post of mine offended you, I apologize. That was wrong of me. I'm still going to work to promote love for all people, and a Christianity that focuses on Jesus and his methods and actions. But I will not do so with anger and negativity. 

It's exactly what irks me about many "movements." Some Christians try to reach and convert gay people by telling them that God is sending them to hell. Some Atheists try to convince Christians by humiliating them with language they don't understand. Some anti-vaccine people try to convince the mainstream by calling them "sheeple." Some medical folk try to convince anti-vaccine people by calling them "Dr. Google." Has this method ever worked? Have we completely forgotten the phrase, "You'll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar"? I'm ashamed and very sorry for playing a part in that.

As with any hurt, I can't promise I won't react out of anger or hurt or embarrassment. But I can promise to do better, to try harder. That's all I'd ask of anyone else, and that's all I'll ask of myself. I have always felt like the main reason for writing this blog is to struggle publicly. To say, "You're not alone." I've felt a need for this for mothers, for Christians, for teenagers, specifically, but really for everyone. Part of that has to be admitting my faults and wrongs, and asking for forgiveness. That goes with the territory of making the struggle more public. So, that's why I had to write this. I could have apologized to my one friend alone, but I wondered if she was just the only one to confront me about it, and I wanted to make this part of my struggle available for all to see. 

I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'll do better. 

Another Conspiracy About Frozen

Warning: Spoilers! (if you live under a rock or something, haven't seen it yet)

Most of you have, by now, heard that Frozen is not a beautiful film about real true love, but it is, in fact, a huge marketing ploy to make our children gay.

First off, I believe those people are entirely welcome to their opinion. I believe that we all bring our own bias to everything we encounter. We interpret these things through the lens these biases give us. If you're hyper-focused on how homosexual marriage is ruining America, you'll see gay propaganda. If you're struggling in your faith, trying to sort how the religious zealots claim to worship the same God who keeps telling you to love, you'll see a similar struggle.

So, if we're going to throw around theories that are entirely based on our own biases, I have a new one for Frozen. 

Elsa's curse is religion.

It's important to note that I'm saying religion. Not a denomination, not a belief, or faith, even. Religion. To me, religion is the rules, the specific doctrines that separate us into factions, the "shoulds" and "should nots." It's the thing that causes us to think we are the only ones who could possibly be right. In short, I think Religion is of the devil.

Near the beginning of the movie, Elsa was just trying to help her sister with her powers, and inadvertently hurts her. If we're honest with ourselves, most of us, at one point, have tried to help someone with our knowledge of their sin, or what they need, only to actually hurt them.

When Anna is taken to the trolls to be healed, Grampa Troll says, "You're lucky it wasn't her heart. The heart is not easily changed, but the head can be persuaded." [this is probably my favorite line in the entire movie]. This is how Religion affects us, when it's deeply entrenched in ourselves, when it's become a part of who we are, it's so hard to remove the negative parts of it. If you take religion, and bury it in your heart (not love, or Christ, but religion), define yourself and your worth by having chosen the right one, it's hard to separate the Lover of the Soul from that Religion. If Religion is just something in your head, it's easier to release, although still difficult. He also tells her that her power has beauty, but that it can hurt as well. I was not shocked by Young Elsa's fearful response. I was shocked by her parents' response though (well, except for the fact that it pushed the plot along). Why did they only see the bad? Why didn't they just teach her to use her powers and control them? Encourage her? Provide safe limits? So many times, Religious parents think that all they have to do is shelter their children, and they'll be safe. Yet, the sheltering itself can hurt, as we see for both Anna and Elsa. Anna leaps into the arms of the first person who accepts her, and Elsa shuns everyone. Our Religion can have different effects on different people. We need to teach and show our children how to work things out about their beliefs. Show them reliable places to look for answers; show them our struggles. We can't rely on others to show us how to define our own beliefs. They don't have our biases. They can't tell us how to think. We've got to figure it out on our own.

When Elsa realizes she "can't control the storm inside," she runs off to be alone, and revels in the beauty her curse/power can create. While it may be harmful to other people, she benefits from her powers. She abandons her community, before they have the chance to abandon her. She realizes it's a part of who she is, and if she has to be lonely to be true, then so be it. I've felt this. I've thought about how I don't want to hurt people with my faith or my Religion (when I was unable to separate the two), so I'll just keep it to myself. If it doesn't hurt anybody else, and provides me with comfort, and the ability to see beauty in a desolate place, then that's enough for me. Still, I sometimes don't let people in, just because I'm sure they'll shun me because of the faith, or lack of faith, I hold inside. I run to my hiding place and say "the cold never bothered me anyway" - I don't need them.

Then, when Elsa sees she hasn't escaped the curse of hurting people, she gets angry and sad, loses all control, and hits her sister right in the heart, accidentally. When all we know is religious rhetoric, and we that's all we have to allow us to relate to people, or to help them, we are unable to actually help them. We can only hurt.

Then, there's a search for true love, which is not in all the places Disney previously told us it would be. In fact, it's found when one person offers her life for another's. Hmmmm, where have I heard that theme before?

Suddenly, Elsa realizes the key to controlling this power is love. She unleashes her love, and uses it to temper her power. When she does this, she is able to use her power to help people, but she's not a slave to the power itself. She can hold hands with her sister again. She's not afraid to touch people for fear of hurting them. She can have relationships. She's no longer lonely. Oh, this! When we let Love temper our Religion, we take it from a big, powerful Proper Noun, and make it into a common noun, religion, available to everyone (can't help it. I'm a linguistics nerd). When we allow Love to flow outward and inward (because Elsa accepts herself in this moment as well), we are not lonely. We don't have to be afraid anymore. (is anybody else singing?)  Now, we can actually help people.

And, the bad guys in Frozen?

The bad guy in the story was not the one who was struggling, but the one who was greedy and deceptive. We see all along that Elsa doesn't want to hurt people. When Hans shows us his true nature, suddenly we see all his actions for what they were. ("I've found my place" ugh! jerk!) If only we had noticed it earlier!

The minor bad guy was the one looking for sorcery and evil, determined to find it even when it wasn't there. (side-eye at people who see gay propaganda in children's movies)

Oh, oh, oh! Have you heard of the huge hit song "Let It Go"? You know, the one with the line "be the good girl you always have to be"? Yeah, there's no way you can convince me that that isn't about being a good, little Christian girl. (Side note: when she lets go of that, she gets to wear cooler clothes! yes, they happen to be more revealing. big deal if you ask me! just more proof, honestly. "I don't care what they're going to say!")

Do I think any of this crossed the creators' minds as they brought Frozen to life? Perhaps. If they've had similar experiences to mine. At the same time, a gay person might think of when they decided to come out when they belt out "Let It Go" in the car. Or, someone who was abused could think of when they finally escaped their torture and chose to move forward. A creator may have felt the words of that song rang true for any number of reasons. That's sorta the point of music, and even movies, to an extent.

Obviously, this isn't going to be a perfect allegory. Mainly because I made it up.

We will always see what we look for. 

Do you have any other crazy interpretations of Frozen?

All The Things! Christian-style

In church Sunday, a few Sundays ago, the pastor said that he sat down once and listed 130-something things that he felt were pressing on his time. He was teaching about abiding in Christ, and learning to focus on being with God more than doing for God. 

I decided to make my own list, of all the things I've felt that I should DO as a good little Christian girl. Some of these things I've long since gotten over, and some still hit me hard. Some I still believe are worthwhile. All of these things I truly believed were God's truth at one point or another in my life. I heard them from various people, and I am not in any way saying this list reflects anyone's thinking but my own. They were all received from different places, and mixed together in my head. Amplify some of these by 75% because I felt like pastors' wives needed to do these things really really well perfectly. I'd challenge you to do the same, and evaluate what God really is asking of you.

1. Listen to Christian music ONLY. (While I would never have said these words, I always felt guilty changing the station to a secular one.)
2.  Read my bible every day morning. If it's not in the morning, it's just not good enough.
3. Give to the needy, but only through the church.
4. Pray over my children and my husband.
5. Memorize scripture.
6. Never swear. Not even when you stub your toe so hard that you break it. 
7. Don't drink alcohol. That stuff that Jesus served at a wedding was really just juice. 
8. While I was never told not to dance, the church I had my wedding reception at didn't allow dancing (see above video, start at 1:25 for both). I'm still pissed about that. I didn't get to dance with my husband or my daddy. At the time, I accepted it (grudgingly). 
9. While we're on the Duggars: Don't use hormonal birth control. (I know, I know, 5 kids, hahaha, joke's on me.)
10. Get married in a church, even if you would love to be married outdoors, where you feel like God's physical presence is just beyond your reach and every thing you can see cries out for a Creator. That's not good enough.
11. Don't wear a two-piece bathing suit.
12. Don't wear short shorts
13. Don't wear tight clothes.
14. Don't show cleavage. 
15. Basically, take the responsibility for the possible sins of any male in your vicinity. 
16. At the same time, be sexually available to your husband whenever he wants, or at least very often. Also, this should be an instantaneous transition on your wedding night.  
17. Be a stay-at-home mom. (I'm a SAHM now because I want to be, not because I have to be, which is why I enjoy it.)
18. Wear dresses to church on Sunday.
19. Go to church at least 3x/week. 
20. Don't consider staying home from church just because you don't want to go.
21. Do daily bible readings with your children.
22. Do everything the Proverbs 31 woman does. And do it well.
23. Volunteer in the nursery/VBS/children's church/youth group. 
24. Make a casserole every few weeks for another family. 
25. Use my talents for God (singing, writing, kid-slinging, pie-making, whatever). 
26. Don't make out with boys.
27. Don't even think about making out with girls, for that matter. 
28. Invite every person at church to your birthday party. That's what Jesus would do.
29. Don't do anything that might cause someone else to stumble. ANYTHING. (see 10-15)
30. Wear Christian t-shirts to school. (What, are you ashamed of Jesus? No, that shirt is just ugly.)
31. Tell everyone - EVERYONE - about Jesus, whether they want to  hear it or not. 
32. Go on mission trips. 
33. Go door-to-door evangelizing.
34. Don't complain. 
35. Don't worry. 
36. Don't be scared. 
37. Fast occasionally, without letting it be known. (Unfortunately for me, I am like a freaking psycho if I don't eat. Seriously.) 
38. Don't ever refer to God as anything other than male.

I could probably go on for days. I made a serious effort to not put down things that other people tried to convince me to believe, but I never did (like no birth control at all, believe it or not!). 

I'm realizing that this is my problem. My problem is religion. My problem is the rules and regulations without the love and relationship.

The pastor said that, as Christians, we talk about these "seasons of life" that we just have to "push through." That's exactly what I've been trying to do, for months years way too long. Just push through. Just check off the things on the list, and someday, somehow I'll find my way back. Instead, he said, we need to approach God and His Word with the goal of just abiding in Him. To just BE with God. To set aside the academic and your hang-ups, and to just sit with God and enjoy His presence.

That has got to be my ticket back. I can't fight my way back. I can't push through my doubts. I can't check the things off my list and hope for the best. But, I can rest in His presence. I can BE who I am - doubts, failures, insecurities - and just BE with Him. This is how to get my head and my heart engaged. Sitting in God's presence will lead me to some of my answers, but more importantly, it will restore my heart. My heart feels dry and parched. It feels like someone who's been carrying a large burden through the desert. That burden is these rules, this religion. How did I miss that the first step to rehydrating is drinking from the Living Well? When Jesus first spoke of Living Water, He was talking to a woman who had been hurt by religion and only expected the worst from Him - a religious man, and He blew her expectations out of the water.

That Sunday, I felt like I'd been that dusty wanderer, wandering through the desert, a huge pack on my back, covered in sweat, and staring out at all these different possibilities, different paths to take. Not knowing where I was really headed or how to get there. This pastor said, "Here, look. There are tons of paths around here. All you have to do is follow this guy. Don't worry if you don't know the way yet. That's ok. Just take your time, and hang out with him, he knows this place like the back of his hand. And, hey, while you're going, enjoy the journey, have fun with your guide, he's pretty cool."

I turn to my guide, and he holds out his hand, and says, "Here. I'll take your pack. You just carry this water bottle. Have some."

Jesus said his yoke was light, while ours is heavy. I have to believe he was talking about religion - The Law. "Give me all your rules and checklists. That's all too much. Here, take mine, all you have to do is BE near me. I'll tell you when I want you to do this or that, but don't worry, you'll know." How have I been missing this all along? I've been in churches all my life that claimed to be "New Testament Churches," but I still felt bogged down and judged for my behavior and my choices, even small, simple things that are likely no one else's business. (Side note: Your pastor's kids are just that. Kids. And Not Yours. Please, stop them from running into traffic, or hitting your kid with their shoe, but don't tell them what to wear or how to think or what music they should like.)

I'm off to find joy in the journey, by just hanging with my Guide.

Also, you can go here to download the image below, which has been hanging next to my computer for months. Go figure.