Authenticity in Suffering

Think back to when you were a child. What was your favourite game to play with others? Was it tag? Or a team sport? Maybe you were the board game enthusiast (which is cool -- board games rock). Personally I was always a big fan of hide-and-go-seek. I crushed this game, every time. I was a master or hiding places and disguises; always the last one to be found - if I was found at all. Every nook, niche, and spot immediately jumped out at me and I was set. There have been instances where I would fall asleep in my spot because the others weren't able to find me. My point being: I loved to hide.
But I wouldn't just hide in games. I would hide so many things in my life from others, covering it up however well I could. Truths about me and how I really felt about things never got exposed. I went through most of my childhood feeling misunderstood, neglected, and abandoned due to the fact that no one actually knew what I was thinking and feeling. Something in me changed though and as I began to grow into the person I am today, I fell in love with opening up. I grew tired of putting on a mask and not showing people what was really inside me. Part of me had always been afraid of showing people the real 'Jess' because I thought they would leave me once they knew. I thought no one wanted to know what I really think, believe, and feel.
As post-high school time went on and I was transitioning into the adulthood/college period people seemed to latch onto me. To this day I do not believe that I have amazing things to offer to people. I lack both the resources and skills that would make me a "useful" friend. What I do have to offer, however is authenticity.

I was talking to a friend today and we were discussing the importance of authenticity in our lives, especially for those who claim to be a part of the body of Christ. I'm sure that many books and articles have been written about this subject but I wanted to approach this from where I am coming from.
Many of you are hiding. You don't let the world see the real you. Some of you even hide a lot from those closest to you. It saddens me when people think they have to hide behind an array of masks, pride, jokes, apparent competence, and a belief that they have to have it together at all times. Maybe you feel as though people won't respect or like you as much if you just started opening up and leave that fake smile behind. And perhaps that might be true in some cases. The thing is though that I (and most others) respect a person so much more when they are being vulnerable with me. I'm not talking about people who do not understand the concept of boundaries or persistent complainers but those who are truly authentic and vulnerable with me. I have friends who I have never seen cry and that is perfectly okay. I would never expect anyone to burst out in tears in front of me in order to show their vulnerability. I do know people though that had put up a front for the longest time until they finally broke and I saw them shed tears. You know what I thought of in that moment? I didn't think they were weak or incompetent. My respect for them increased by so much. I cannot stand the fact that tears have been deemed an exclusively feminine trait by our culture. Men are not given the emotional right to appear vulnerable for fear of feeling too exposed and weak.

In reality, authenticity and vulnerability is the very thing that connects us all. How are you going to relate to others in their suffering when you can't admit that you're suffering as well? Suffering is something that every single human being that has ever lived and that will ever live goes through. We all experience it. Why do we often pretend like we don't? What do we gain by telling people that everything is great when, in reality, everything inside of us wants to break down?

I think it would be a great testimony as Christians if we were to turn the tables on the issue of suffering and vulnerability. Think of how many people you could potentially help if you were to actually talk about what is really going on in your head. When was the last time you asked someone if you could talk to them about what you are going through? When was the last time you genuinely asked someone personal if they could pray with you over a situation? When was the last time you actually opened up to someone?
Don't think that you can make it on your own. If you believe that you can fly through this life emotionally solo, you are in for a very rude awakening. We have been given a community of believers, the church, for a reason. Yes, we are all imperfect and flawed but that's kind of the point, isn't it? We all have things we want to hide from others. We all think that people won't love and respect us as much if we were to truly open up to them, but the reality is that that is a lie. Most will give you even more love and respect if they could only see you sharing in their suffering.

"We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasure, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world... No doubt pain as God's megaphone is a terrible instrument; it may lead to final and unrepented rebellion. But it gives the only opportunity the bad man can have for amendment. It removes the veil; it plants the flag for truth within the fortress of the rebel soul."
C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

Give Me My Daily Bread and My Daily Death

"God is great, so we don't have to be in control. God is glorious, so we don't have to fear others. God is good so we don't have to look elsewhere. God is gracious, so we don't have to prove ourselves."

The four absolutes still ring with truth, as clear as I first heard them. When I sat in church yesterday and listened to the message, I begged God to show me what it means to clearly live them out. I want to be completely transparent and note that I have been struggling heavily with disbelief lately. There are moments and days when God either doesn't seem real or an idea too good to be true. What are the chances that there is a good God who created this earth and freely gave up his son to atone for our sins so that we would have the hope of spending eternity in his glory? It just seemed like too optimistic of a plan. What did people mean when they said I don't even have to do anything except to rely on his grace to pull me into freedom? How could I possibly be sure of my salvation if this entire philosophy relied on faith and faith alone? My soul became restless, filled with fear of the unknown. Conveniently, I spent the last few months listening to Village Church's Great Debate series, where we explored different philosophies and worldviews. It gave me some intellectual insurance by walking through these views and philosophically taking them apart and seeing why they couldn't possibly be the truth. 

Disbelief causes fear of the unknown. I am in a stage of life where nothing is predictable. Of course, no matter what stage of life you are in, it is never predictable, however I am feeling this even more so with finishing up my college degree and finding a place to live. As I listened to the attributes of God being explained yesterday morning I wanted God to truly show his face to me by helping me live these views out. I knew that, at that moment, I challenged God. When you ask God to show you something or to help you overcome a certain area of your life, do not take it lightly. Be prepared for him to wreck you completely so that, in the end, you have nothing left to rely on but him. 

Yesterday morning I was under the impression that a certain area of my life had worked out for sure and was secured. I was excited and couldn't wait for that time to begin. When I asked God to show me what it means to trust him, I had no idea what he would do. I came home to a missed call and a voicemail on my phone. Listening to the message made my heart drop because in that second, just like that, my plan fell to pieces. Something that I was so sure of simply vanished into thin air, leaving me to decide what my attitude was going to be towards it. Was I going to get bitter and complain? Or would I pick up my heart and hand all of my expectations to God instead of keeping them inside my own hands? I decided that fear wasn't worth the feeling of control over my own life. I would rather put my faith in the one who holds this world and everything in it. 

Strangely, that situation and my changed attitude towards it erased much of my held disbelief in God's sovereignty and his existence in general. It seemed like I had the thing I wanted, it was taken away, and my faith was strengthened. This is grace. This is love. And this is the faith that I cling to. I want to die to my own desires, my own control, and my own need to fix things every single day. When Jesus teaches us to pray, he says to ask God to give us our daily bread. Not our weekly bread. Not our monthly bread. Not our yearly bread. Our faith relies on a day-to-day system where we deny ourselves each day and also trust God to provide for us that very day. 

Take My Heart - I'll Be Okay

Vulnerability is a tough concept to master. True vulnerability lays it all out while also being confident about the facts we are presenting about ourselves. In order to do this we must develop a thick skin and a soft heart. But how do we do this? It's a cruel trick, because when our hearts start becoming soft, so does our skin. All this leads to is our compassion and kindness coming back to bite us because we cannot differentiate between kindness and being taken advantage of. If we do, however decide to let our skin harden, often times our hearts suffer and become like stone. We become closed off.
All my life I have been told to develop a thick skin. It was for my own protection and safety. I have found this to be an extremely difficult concept, mainly due to the fact that my soft heart will not let my skin harden. I often become defensive and let others take advantage of myself. This creates a victim mentality, which creates bitterness and in turn hardens my heart. And so it seems like the only time my skin actually begins to harden, it does so at the expense of my heart.
How do we find the balance of possessing thick skin and a soft heart? Unfortunately I have not found this yet. I tend to drift towards softening every aspect of my existence, which means that I feel easily attacked.

Vulnerability does not equal weakness. Vulnerability speaks of a strength that few of us bother exploring because it is painful. Vulnerability says "Take my heart and explore. I trust that you will not damage it. But even if you do, I will be okay."

I will never stop asking God to show me the concept of true vulnerability, because it gives me life.

Never Changing

In my bed I am safe. The purple blanket I have owned for over five years provides comfort and familiarity. Amidst this life of ever-changing circumstances and situations, it's nice to know that some things remain constant. Never-changing. Trustworthy.
I cannot count the number of times my life has taken a dramatic turn into the opposite direction within a matter of minutes. Most of the time, these have been negative circumstances. Moments of utter defeat. Moments where life seems to just have shattered on the ground before me, leaving parts of me in shambles.

Disappointment. Disconnect. Disillusionment. Distractions. Distance.

You're pushing down on my shoulders
And emptying my lungs
An in a moment I'm older
In a moment, you've won
And you escape me
Like it's nothing
Like words I never should have said
And the stress comes to the surface
But all of the heroes are dead

Too often I find myself gasping for air in this life. I need to feel alive. When you are surrounded by brokenness, it is easy to believe that you are dead inside. Years of depression have taught me that. It is a slow drowning of your mind. You are surrounded by water. Oxygen is becoming scarce.

At some point I remembered that I am not dead yet. I needed air in my lungs. I was tired of life pushing down on them while I did nothing and just watched. When circumstances change, when the water begins to rise, and when disillusionment sets it, I see the constant. Instead of distractions, I receive focus. Instead of distance and disconnect, I get closeness. Instead of guilt, I get God.

He is my never-changing One.

Two Sides of the Coin

Loneliness is real. Why do you think porn is so profitable? It leeches onto those that are lonely inside. It's also why Netflix and pizza places are so popular. No? Maybe that's just me...
Point being is that whoever tells you loneliness is not real or not painful or easily fixed with material things is a dirty, dirty liar and is probably trying to sell you something.

The dilemma I've had to confront more and more lately is choosing a particular side when it comes to relationships. Those sides being: either accepting that there is no one out there "for me" or holding on to hope that, maybe someday, I'll find someone to share this life with on a day-to-day basis. I wrestled through this with my mentor, exploring each side in depth.

One side of the coin: Acceptance
I can look at my life the way it is right now, realize that I'm okay, and move on. I can recognize that I do not, in fact, need someone to fulfill certain needs and desires because sacrificial living is necessary. Everyone sacrifices something different, right? In my case it might just be my "right" to be in a healthy relationship. Quotation marks are used because too often we find ourselves being entitled to certain things in this life like relationships. One of the hardest lessons I had to learn that, just because you desire something, does not mean you are automatically entitled to it. I desire lots of different relationships (both romantic and non-romantic ones), but does that mean I'm ever going to get them? No. See, this is tricky because we were created for the purpose of relationship and community, so knowing that some will not ever get this doesn't seem fair. But then again, it also doesn't seem fair that a 10 year old girl is sold into slavery. It doesn't seem fair that a guy in his twenties is diagnosed with cancer and dies. It doesn't seem fair that people suffer. Period. Putting life into the right perspective can get you a lot of insight and challenge long-held beliefs you held on to. Technically I don't deserve anything, yet I have been blessed immensely by God's grace that is evident in my life, daily. Fabienne Harford, in her article entitled 'Sex and the Single Woman', points out that "Today, my body wants something tangible and physical it was designed to have. And today, I don't get to have that thing. Of course my body grumbles, and as it does, I get to testify that in the midst of my hunger, God is trustworthy. I'm learning to hunger for something better." Well put, Fabienne.

Other side of the coin: Hope
I'm young, right? Most would say so. My grandma would probably say I'm long overdue for marriage, seeing as ideally I'd have married when I was 22 years old and would already be starting to have miniature humans running around. Actually, just the fact that I call them miniature humans is evidence enough that I should go nowhere near the possibility of having kids right now.
MOVING ON.
I've been single for three years now. Sometimes I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that it's been three years. I dated for two. This means I started dating five years ago. Silly me. What did 18 (almost 19) year old Jess know about dating? Squat. There are days where I hold on to hope and the fact that I'm still in my early/mid twenties. I've also gotten tons of encouragement from my numerous girlfriends (bless their hearts) such as: "you're still young", "relationships/marriage is harder than you think", "you're totes beautiful/gorgeous/pretty and any guy would be lucky to have you", and "yeah, you're opinionated but the right guy will love you for it". Sometimes it's hard not seeing those statements and encouragements as band-aid solutions, as if the instant they are spoken over me, that automatically makes them true. I wrestle with two types of insecurities. One being physical insecurity, not believing I am "beautiful enough" (whatever that means) and the other one being personality/character insecurity. It is no secret amongst those who know me that I have some pretty strong opinions and values. While they're usually accepted and tolerated by those who call me "friend", these opinions are not often seen as making me "datable". "Sure, I can be your friend and tolerate your strong views but date you? lol!" Still, I'm hoping. Hoping that maybe somewhere out there someone exists who might possibly travel Northern Europe with me while we love Jesus together, talk about feminism, and let God change this world through us. Someone who is okay with being with someone who struggles with defensiveness, who doesn't back down from her values, who wears her heart on her sleeve, who is not the most beautiful girl in the world, and who will never not care.

So how do I choose? Maybe a better question would be: Do I have to choose? Is there any possibility that those two sides of the coin might work together? Can I find acceptance in who I am right now and be content, yet hold on to the hope of a possible, future relationship? That's exactly what I'm trying to find out. I believe there is a way, I just have to find it. And if there is one thing I'm good at, it's being persistent.

On Jealousy, Craving Attention, and Social Media

There are days where jealousy takes over my life. It doesn't help that I see most people's lives through the filter of social media. Stellar pictures, instagrams that would make anyone jealous (and a lot of times that is what they are intended to do), heart-warming life updates, exciting adventures shared through posts and blogs, etc. We are all "guilty" of this. I put "guilty" in quotation marks because I don't think it is inherently wrong or "bad" to do this. That is what social media is for, isn't it? To inform others of what our life is like at the moment. Whether we acquired an amazing job, just got into a relationship/married, are travelling, or are just enjoying this blissful life to the max. We want to share it with the world because we are social beings.
If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound? If something exciting happens in our lives and no one knows about it, is it still exciting?

Unfortunately I've had to ask myself this question many times. Too often I would defend my ever-increasing presence on social media by saying that I have convictions and that these convictions need to be shared, whether anyone is listening or not. Sadly, I have come to the conclusion that hardly anyone listens. The only thing it's gotten me is a weird reputation as: the über-feminist girl with the instagrams and a blog that no one reads.

And because I crave attention even more when it isn't given to me, I observe the environment around me, see through my distorted glasses, and it always seems like other people's lives are better than mine.

I've contemplated deactivating my facebook account entirely. I mean, what a sad life are we living if we cannot stay away from it? How much have we been conditioning ourselves to depend on this form of social media for self-validation? Too much, if you ask me.
Knowing my knack for diving into extreme ideas and never following through, I almost immediately realized that I probably wouldn't be able to stay away from it completely. I am going to be limiting my time spent on it and hopefully get it through this thick skull of mine that, at least on social media, no one cares what I have to say. And even if they do, I can still make an impact on this world by interacting with people face to face. I'm pretty sure God will be able to handle the lack of social media and still put me to use.

Maybe I'll blog about what it's like to be staying away from things such as facebook soon. Maybe I won't. We'll see...

The Abundance of Reality in Fiction

I don't quite know how to describe this feeling. It is utterly personal and it seems almost invasive for anyone to see me in a state like this but I feel defenceless. Fragile. Weak even. I just finished reading the Hunger Games series with Mockingjay being the last book. Books, movies, and stories in general have an interesting way of impacting me. I suppose it's "normal" to be transported to the universe in which the story takes place. To have your mind, your emotions, and sometimes what feels like your whole body disintegrate itself and then to have it collect itself again in that alternate universe. After a while you don't even notice sensations like hunger or having to go to the bathroom. These "urges" become of secondary nature and importance. What's more important is that you don't miss a beat in the story. Your own life and its problems begins to fade away. If it's just for a moment, an hour, a day, or even a week. It's not as important as this story. Right here.

See, this could go a million different ways. Some stories impact you more than others. Some are just fleeting, which you welcomed into your life easily but also just as easily let go. Then there are those that resonate with you for much longer. No matter how much you want them to break away, it seems impossible. And it is especially disheartening when the story you just became so engrossed in, is a story of heartache and pain. Immeasurable pain. You grow to love certain characters and while you know that literally anything could happen on the next page (or sometimes even on the same page), you don't want to give into that "reality". They are good. While they may be flawed, they are good in your eyes. They deserve life and love and happiness. And then the unthinkable happens. Tragedy. And for a moment you clasp your hands over your mouth to mute the whimper wanting so desperately to escape from your lips as if you are surrounded by people who are watching your reaction. As soon as you notice that it is of no use and that there is, in fact  no one intensely watching you, the tears begin to fall. And by you, I mean me. I am so easily overcome by grief. Sometimes I think it's because I am weak. Sometimes I think it's because I possess a great deal of empathy. I suppose it can be both. I don't even necessarily understand the point of why I am writing this except for trying to make sense of this myself.

Trying to make sense of why I react the way I react. Why do I grief something so fictional when I know that it isn't real? But then it hits me. In a way, some distant, distant way it is real. The horror, the pain, the anger, and the tragedy portrayed in stories only comes from our own inspiration and this is almost always drawn from reality. I don't believe that we would have a concept of pain in stories if it weren't for the fact that pain, in this world, is very, very real.

Pain, war, anger, grief, tears, sadness... all these things are far more real than moments of delusional happiness. And this is where I disagree with those who say that fiction books take you away from the real world. I would argue that the opposite is true. Never have I connected so much with the pain in our very real world today than when I connect with it in a book. It brings up anger, disappointment, and frustration at the current situations running rampant all over the place.

I always wondered why people bothered writing painful stories when there is so much pain already in this world. It would be so much easier to escape by reading about wonderful, happy stories that transport us to a paradise of some sort. But this isn't the point. The point of stories isn't so much to take us away from realty but rather to face it. And we all have a reality we would rather not face. If that's the case, I recommend you start reading.

Maybe you're just a piece of lettuce.

There may be seasons in your life where you will feel like you're being tossed about like an ordinary piece of lettuce in a salad. (Yes. Please excuse my awful title and me comparing you to a piece of lettuce. It is late.) You won't know where you belong, where you'll fit in, or what you're supposed to do. Maybe you won't have to endure seasons like that. I was really tempted to write that I hope, for your sake, you won't. But the more I think about it, the more I really hope you'll experience these seasons.

It is hard living in a way where you feel like you don't belong. I've definitely had my fair shares of experiences in this matter. Nothing in my life has been permanent except for a few friendships and most importantly: God's ever-present grace.

Today I was unfortunately let go from my job. It doesn't matter why or how. You know what matters? My reaction to it. After leaving I was visibly upset and as soon as I started my drive home I started ranting in my head. "Ugh. Seriously? When can I finally settle down? Is this just not going to happen for me? God, seriously: I have no place to call my permanent home, I have no boyfriend, and as it turns out, I have no job either. I have NOTHING. NADA." I was clearly frustrated and felt justified in my complaining. Out of nowhere though I hear the following words: "Are you serious right now? You have ME! You have your God. You have my GRACE."

OUCH. I just complained about having nothing when, in fact, I had everything. Homes, boyfriends/girlfriends/husbands/wives, jobs, etc. are not an accurate indicator of how much you have in this life. They are not an indication of a successful life. When am I going to get this through my thick skull? I keep thinking that in order to have a successful life I need to be settled down with a fixed income, and someone to share every day life with. But what if that's just not an option for me? What if my life will revolve around the basic premise of not being able to settle at all? Maybe that's my case, maybe it isn't. Again, that is not of importance. The only thing that matters is that I know for a fact who my life revolves around.

And He has never let me down or broken my trust.

Christian Objectification

You notice her clothes. The way that her dress seems a bit too tight. The way that her legs are exposed and maybe you even see a little bit of cleavage. What's your first instinct?

Wow... no self respect, huh? 

Christians often do the same. This goes out to all the girls and boys. And may I put the emphasis on girls and boys instead of using women and men because frankly no one who behaves this way deserves to be referred to as a mature adult.

You all know that women are increasingly objectified in our time and culture. It's bad enough that this happens in the secular world but I have noticed a behaviour that I would like to name "Christian Objectification" meaning that when we see women who don't dress according to our modesty standards, we may not get the hots for them but we judge them. And guess what. This is still objectification because in that moment, all we see is a body; an object. We don't see the woman herself. We don't see her life, what she is going through, or whether she is a Christian or not. All we notice in that moment is her outside appearance. Do you understand that we are completely aware of you doing this? And here's the shocker: it doesn't make us feel any less dirty than when we are being groped or catcalled by some stranger. It makes us feel like we are still just another body to be judged and not like we are a soul deemed worth loving.

I'm tired of this becoming a new "church trend". We go in under the pretence that we're just doing our Christian duty of upholding each other in our walk with Christ when in reality, more often than not, we are not concerned with the person's soul at that moment but rather with how they offended us by dressing that way. I'd lie if I said I never subjected anyone to this, but that is exactly why I am so aware of this happening all over the place.

Can we all just agree that we're not doing anyone any favours by acting and thinking this way? Don't fool yourself. You're not helping anyone out. You're not concerned for anyone. You're only thinking about yourself.

The next time you look at any girl or woman don't, I repeat, don't objectify her by making quick judgements about her appearance, whether she shares your beliefs or not. Should she pull her dress down a bit? Should she cover up more? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it's none of your business. Maybe you should still treat her with love and respect.

I don't know. Maybe.

PS: Here is a great piece I read from someone:

"In 1 Timothy 2:9-10, the apostle Paul writes "I also wan the women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, adorning themselves not with elaborate hairstyles or gold or  pearls or expensive clothes, but with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God." The Greek word translated "modesty" here is kosmios. Derived from kosmos (the universe), it signifies orderliness, self-control and appropriateness. It appears only twice in the New Testament, and interestingly, its second usage refers specifically to men (1 Timothy 3:2). In fact, nearly all of the Bible's instructions regarding modest clothing refer not to sexuality, but rather materialism (Isaiah 3:16-23, 1 Timothy 2:9-12, 1 Peter 3:3). Writers in both the Old Testament and New Testament express grave concern when the people of God flaunt their wealth by buying expensive clothes and jewelry while many of their neighbours suffered in poverty. (Ironically, I've heard dozens of sermons about keeping my legs and my cleavage out of sight, but not one about ensuring my jewelry was not acquired through unjust or exploitative trade practices -- which would be much more in keeping with biblical teachings on modesty.)
And so biblical modesty isn't about managing the sexual impulses of other people; it's about cultivating humility, propriety and deference within ourselves."

With Every Heartbeat I Have Left I Will Defend Your Every Breath

Many of my tears have seen the light of day. Unfortunately, most of them made their dreaded way down my cheeks because something awful happened. I cry a lot but it's nothing to apologize for. 

I'm not sure if there is an English equivalent for this idiom but in German we say: "Ich bin nah am Wasser gebaut.", which translates to: "I was built close to the water." meaning that the tears just come easier for me. Growing up I saw it as a weakness, often having been told that it was. I connected it to being over-emotional, exaggerating most situations, and not being in control over myself. 

Since then, however I have recognized it as my ever-present tenderness in life. So what if I cry easily? Does that mean that my emotions mean any less? In our culture we tend to glorify stoicism. We want men who are the "big, strong, silent type" and women who should be "more in control of themselves" lest we are thought of as being hysterical. 

Truth is that tears are a sign of our humanity. They serve various purposes and it fascinates me how they can actually differ from each other. They can express emotions such as sadness, joy, frustration, and confusion. They also serve a reflex function, which usually happens when you encounter irritating gasses, chop onions, or get hit in the face. What is truly interesting, however is the fact that the tears that are released because of reflexes consist mostly of water while emotional tears flush out all kinds of toxins. It literally means that your body is taking the bad that's on the inside and forces it out. Crazy benefit, huh? 

Every once in a while I'll reflect on my life in one of those rare, quiet moments we get and become emotional. Thinking back on how terrifying my life was last summer and looking forward to how this summer is looking I can see how God is truly at work. This is one of those instances where tears of joy are invading the spaces under my eyes. Gratefulness can be overwhelming and tear-inducing and I am so glad that it does. I enjoy all the little things that we are able to do to express emotions, whether those are tears, hand gestures, body language, or words. Just think of how amazing it is that you are alive right now. It sounds so cliche but put your hand over your chest right now. Feel that heartbeat. Really feel it. Can you feel it beating? Now let that settle in. Feel the tenderness that's been imprinted on your heart. 

You are strong and yet so fragile. We all are. That's how life is. Resilient and here today yet gone tomorrow. Just like a whisper in the wind. That's why we need to make every one of our heartbeats count, don't you think? Why waste our lives trying to deny ourselves emotions and outlets that can help us grow? We live in a culture that thrives off of hating things and putting down those who show appreciation and excitement for things. Everyone should be allowed to positively be overwhelmed by the things life has to offer. While we need to be careful not to let emotions dictate our decisions, I think it's also safe to say that emotions need to be felt and truly experienced. 

My Own Story - Why I Finally Understand

I talk a lot about social justice, equality issues, feminist issues, and the like. Often I'll state how women are so harassed in this day and age that it's become normalized. To be fully honest with you, except for a very private story that occurred over a period of time when I was younger, I had never really experienced harassment from males, especially not in public. I figured it was because I wasn't really the hottest-looking woman out there and don't really have that much to show off. Over this past year however, I am experiencing this issue more and more. I get called out in the streets (one very nasty example in Seattle back in February) and honked at. And I finally understand, really understand what it feels like to have this happen to you on a daily basis. It feels disgusting. About two years ago I got physically/sexually harassed by an old guy in the streets and while I was walking/rushing away I felt like I needed to take an hour-long shower just to wash this filth away.

I have to admit, you really won't know how a woman feels like unless you've experienced this yourself. To have your own sex targeted, to hear comments about your boobs, your butt, or to be grabbed inappropriately, there's nothing quite like it (in the most negative sense possible). Realizing this also made me realize that maybe the reason so many guys dismiss this problem as something to be brushed off, is because they don't quite know what it feels like to experience this. And I empathize with that. I truly do. I can't blame anyone for not understanding what something feels like.

At the same time I want to challenge anyone and everyone who has never experienced anything like this and who thinks that this is not a big deal to please listen to stories from your moms, sisters, girlfriends, and female friends. I can guarantee you that at least one of them has stories of being sexually harassed or even raped. Statistically, more than half of all Canadian women report incidents of physical or sexual violence since the age of sixteen. http://sacha.ca/fact-sheets/statistics

Please listen to us. I'm asking you to see beyond the veil of jokes, social media normalization of this garbage, or your own biases.

Tonight I went for a run while it was still mostly light outside and ran by a school playground where a bunch of guys were hanging out and smoking. As I ran by I couldn't help but keep looking over my shoulder just to make sure I wasn't being followed. This shouldn't be the case. For a little bit of further reading, I recommend checking out one of my best friend's blog post on this: http://lovedstill.blogspot.ca/2014/05/i-cant-hate-you-because-i-need-you.html

The Dreaded C-Word

Often times I try so hard to foster my creativity that I get lost in the work of creating rather than focusing on the creation itself. Through my eyes, there seems to only be the beauty in process of creating and not in the finished work because I feel a great need for others to enjoy it as much as I do. Since that rarely happens I am left unsatisfied and disappointed, therefore demotivating me from engaging un further attempts at creativity. I long to paint my words as swiftly and unafraid as experienced paint brushes. Rather I pick and choose carefully which words I present.
My struggle is this: That creativity is not a comparison or a competition. I used to think I was the only one who was struggling with this but I'm sure that there are others out there who feel the same.

The very idea of creativity scares me because of the high expectations I hold it to. Nothing I create is ever good enough for my own eyes and ears. The reason for this is the fact that I compare my creative process to that of other people. Whatever I create is automatically worthless because it isn't the very best in this world. Because of this expectation I am set up for disappointment whenever I do decide to create, whether the nature of the work is a written piece, a drawing, a photograph, a little tune, or whatever else my itty, bitty brain can come up with. I am still not quite sure how to combat this struggle other than having to keep reminding myself that creativity is not a comparison or a competition but rather a compilation of my existence, experiences, emotions, and endeavours.

We'll be just fine.

This is about the third blog post I have started today because the other two just didn't seem good enough. They both talked about different subjects but if I write something and feel, even in the slightest, that this doesn't need to be said right now, I'll start over again.

At this very moment I am listening to a new obsession of mine: Sleeping At Last. This particular song is entitled 'West' and he says:

we'll be just fine
we'll be just fine
it's a matter of time
'til our compass stands still,
'til our compass stands still

It reminds me to take every day for what it's worth, which is: a lot. Why? Because every morning that I wake up and hit snooze on my phone, I am reminded that I am breathing. I am reminded that this could very well be my last day on earth so who cares where I'm going to be tomorrow? I have a responsibility to my God to live in such a way that would honour him but I do not have control over this world. This might cause a lot of stress and anxiety in some but it does the exact opposite for me.

In this truth I find peace.
In this truth I find comfort.
In this truth I find hope.

I think that we (and by "we" I am identifying myself as a young adult) we are so pressured into thinking that we have to have our lives figured out. We have to have a career plan, a savings plan, and a schedule that already looks at the year ahead. What if we could let go of all that? What if we realized that no one else actually has life figured out? Because with each milestone we accomplish, we are not, in fact, closer to figuring out this silly thing called life. We just took one step deeper into this mess. We are so focused on our own feet in the mud though that we forget to look around, really look around, and see that everyone else is stuck in this mess as well. Just because they are further ahead, doesn't mean they're less in the dirt.

Instead of focusing so much on trying to figure out what to do with tomorrow, make sure you don't waste today. I have seen people who always chase the next big milestone be it a job, a relationship, a promotion, a house, or a family and they don't cherish the milestones they have already accomplished.

Remember: we'll be just fine. It's just a matter of time 'til our compass stands still.

and sometimes our compass breaks
and our steady true north fades
we'll be just fine

Dear PLBC

To be completely honest with you, I don't know where to start exactly.
...
This past weekend has been nothing but laughter, love, friendships, and good times. It began with Friday night where our Ride To Nowhere took place. Saturday we spent most of the day either packing or preparing for the Spring Banquet. That turned out to be so much fun. The photo booth was a total success and I'm in love with how the pictures turned out. My wallet will most likely suffer because I intend on printing lots of them. Sunday started off with a fantastic message at Village Church (as always). In the evening we had our graduation ceremony. I am so incredibly proud of all the grads. The day ended perfectly when 27 of us showed up at Boston Pizza. I don't think I've ever enjoyed myself so much with this big of a group. Laughs all around.
Today consisted mostly of packing and spending some quality time with friends at the pier down at White Rock Beach and then getting delicious Indian food.

While this weekend has been one of the best in my life so far, it also came to an abrupt end. Today was goodbye-day. Right now I am unbelievably exhausted so it's hard for me to actually articulate my thoughts. I can't overstate how thankful I am for my PLBC family. I'm finishing up my third year, with one semester shy of my degree. PLBC isn't just a school. It's a community that will wreck you.

You heard me. The community here has wrecked me. And I mean this in the most positive sense. Before I came to PLBC, I had been living on my own for a while and I was fine. I was alright going to work and coming home to an empty place. I was ok being on my own. But after spending some time at PLBC it quickly became apparent that, once you get a taste of this community, it isn't easily left behind. I have seen way too many crying faces this weekend to prove this. PLBC has blessed me with seasonal friendships and lifelong friendships. I am equally grateful for both. I think a true sign of maturity is recognizing and coming to terms with the fact that some people are only in your life for a season. We all so desperately cling to the idea of everyone staying in our lives forever but unfortunately this is not a reality. Some people are meant to be in your life for a few months, a few years, or even longer but maybe not forever. You will definitely have people you'll be able to call up when you're old and you can spend time with them. But you won't be able to do this with everyone. And this is why I believe that coming to terms with this is a sign of true maturity. Mind you, while I am able to recognize this, I don't think I can fully come to terms with is just yet. I might just be in denial about this when it comes to certain friendships.

But hey! Life goes on, right? I want to dedicate this post to all my PLBC people. Whether we are seasonal friends, lifelong friends, inbetween, or we don't even know yet, know that I love and appreciate you. You make this school! You are a part of it. Even if you've graduated or are done, you will never not be a part of the PLBC community. Don't forget that! It's a home you can come back to. We literally have people all over the world that have come out of PLBC, serving God in their own unique way and this makes me incredibly happy.

Staff, oh my goodness. This school wouldn't run without you. Duh', I know. But seriously. You are probably more loved and appreciated than you can fathom. You're not just teachers, administrators, and workers. You are mentors and role models and the impact you have on the students is incredible. We look up to you. We truly do.

I am ecstatic to be coming back for another term in the fall. It'll be my last. Unless anyone wants to pay for more school of course. In that case, I'll send you my banking information if you so desire. ;)
But seriously: You all better take care of yourselves. Don't forget where you came from. Don't forget who holds you. Don't forget who you're serving. Don't forget your home. Because I sure won't.

All the love. <3

Fears.

I have a love-hate relationship with... relationships. Any kind, really. I love growing into a relationship, giving it all I have, and really committing. But all too often, some relationships come to an awkward place. They either end all-together or they change in a way that no one anticipated and make you uncomfortable. The person you've grown to love as a friend, suddenly changed. And you wish they didn't.

I've never been good on my own. When I'm alone too much, it feels like a dark abyss is swallowing me. Days become dark and drag out into weeks. I'm not happy with any of my life decisions. It was especially bad last summer because I realized how much Bible college "made" me dependent on a community. Then as the end of the year approached I found myself alone. Sure I still had friends around me but not in the same way as actually living in a community. I am too much of an extrovert to be fine with living on my own. If I'm being completely honest, I am scared right now. This semester is coming to an end and I constantly have to remind myself to take it one day at a time but often, that isn't enough. I am longing for something that can't be fulfilled. It's a damn scary world out there and I just don't know if I'm ready to take it on. All too often I'll give off that cocky image of "Psh, what scary world? I'm independent and I like it. I don't have to rely on anyone."

But truth be told, sometimes I still feel like a fearful five year-old inside who needs someone to take care of her.

The little girl who wanted to join Greenpeace.

As of late, the pieces of my life seem to all be falling into place. As a little girl I had big dreams and plans for what my life would look like. It would start off with me training to be a veterinarian. Yes. I absolutely loved animals. My heart for them couldn't be bigger. I would know all the facts, read animals books day-in and day-out, and even subscribed to a magazine called Tierfreund ( : animal friend). Even just looking at the website now is transforming me back to the time when helping animals in need was the most noble profession I could think of. I was even adamant about joining Greenpeace no matter how much everyone around me bugged me for it. I was written off for investing too much into something that, according to others, didn't matter as much as making good money. I was taught to put money before passion. Comfort before conviction. 

As I grew into my teens, my passion from animals slowly transitioned into my passion for people and I was seriously thinking about becoming a lawyer. By being a lawyer I could slowly end the stigma of corruption within the judicial system and use my "power" for the good of others. I wanted to help. I also really liked to talk. When I found out how hard it would actually be to become a lawyer, I let go of that vision because at that time, studying was not something I wanted to invest in. 

For many years after that I wasn't sure what to do with my life. I was told to pursue nursing because nurses were in "high demand" and it would "pay good". I never cared for a good paying job. In all honesty, I just wanted enough to live and to somewhat save up. I never cared for having a big house with lots of kids and lots of bedrooms and a boat and a vacation house and a trailer and big screen TVs and 5 cars. Heck, I was fine with living my life alone in a small apartment and enjoying being with people rather than being too busy with my work life. 

I didn't think I would make it to college until that day arrived anyway. By God's grace I am just about done with my third year and have acquired a job as a barista at Starbucks. I have one semester of studies left and then I'm done. What's next, you ask? I actually don't know. All my life I have waited for my studies to be done, to be working full-time and to be enjoying life. Now that this is actually within arm's reach, I don't know how I feel about it. The whole world is open to me. I could literally move to somewhere  in Europe next week, find a job, and settle in. There are so many options and I'm starting to miss the trees because of the forest. 

But if there is one thing I have learned in all my years of searching, finding, losing, and searching again, it's that no matter what happens, I can only afford to take it one day at a time. I may dream about what my future life will look like but there is no guarantee. My dreams have changed so much, my outlooks on life have changed so much, and I am becoming more and more aware of the fact that there is no cookie-cutter type life. 

For now I'll allow myself to dream of all the possibilities but also remind myself to be ok with whatever happens, because there have been countless of negative events in the past, which I didn't appreciate at the moment but can look at now and say that they have shaped me into the person I am today. 

Enough, ok? An Invitation to Examine Experiences

I am legitimately trying to be as calm as possible right now. Channeling my inner zen riiiiiiiight about now... kidding. I don't have inner zen. It's mostly Jesus who keeps me calm and keeps telling me that it's ok. While I heed his advice, I also can't help but to speak out.

Right off the bat, I'd like to preface this by saying that I do not have a Master's in theology (evidently), nor do I dwell among the eloquent speakers. All I have is my experience and I do know that some of you who are reading this will not deem that worthy enough. You probably tuned out when I said I don't have a Master's in theology, thinking "Well, if she doesn't understand scripture to a "t", what merit do her words have?". And that's ok. I'm not forcing you to read my opinions. What I am hoping is that you'll hear my heart, because something is not ok.

Most of you know that I am adamant about justice, equality, and empathy. I am also about awareness. What I have been noticing lately is me writing or reposting writings of topics concerning the equality of men and women and while women (usually) completely relate and emphasize, some men make it a point to comment and point out the theological flaws in those arguments. I feel like this is not fair. What some men are trying to do is pick apart our opinions and arguments and completely leave out our experiences. They speak on behalf of our issues when they have no place to speak. It's happened to me countless times. It happens on the internet and it happens when I talk to people face to face. I get picked apart.

I am labeled a feminazi because I have opinions. Honest to God, I tried not letting that affect me. So far I think I've done a pretty good job because I'm learning to be more confident (and have come a long way) but the back and forth insults stop now! I am not a feminazi. You're equating me to a female version of a people group that annihilated a different people group just for being different. You are equating me to someone who tortures and kills. Can I be honest with you? It hurts.

Some men, especially those who have been too preoccupied with their own, comfortable life, have failed to see how a lot of women are being treated in some churches. You say we're being treated well just because we don't speak out. Mind you, I am more than happy with my current church family but it hasn't always been this way.

In church settings, in family settings, in social settings, (especially in Christian circles) women are being limited to coffee making. We are being told we can lead and then never be given an opportunity.
Currently I am reading a book about church planting. I am more than halfway through the book and nowhere does it mention women. All the author talks about is "and my guys", "the young men out there", "we need to train up the right men for this job". I'm sorry but I don't see myself being represented there and it's disappointing. You can talk semantics all you want but the truth is: they matter. Women are not adequately presented and please don't be another man who tells me that this isn't true, because frankly, you wouldn't know.

It took me years to acknowledge the fact that black people were misrepresented or not even represented at all in media. Why did it take me that long? Probably because I was blinded by my whiteness. Seriously. As a white person I was being represented well so why bother taking into account the opinion of a black person? Because they matter too! And this is what I'm getting at. Women's issues matter! I am tired of being pushed into a corner and being told that somehow my experiences are wrong and that I have the wrong theological outlook.

Can you do me a favour? Can you, just for a little bit, close your commentaries and listen to the women in your life? Because I can assure you that most of us are really tired of fighting this on our own. There aren't many that are listening.

My intent of writing this isn't to insult anyone or to spark online debates. Instead, I wanted to write about my experiences and hope that you understand a little better now. If you know me at all, you know that amongst my core values are compassion, kindness, and fairness and that I love people no matter what their gender is. I have men in my life that I have tremendous respect for and I have women in my life that I have tremendous respect for.


Welp. I've probably alienated about half of the people I know. But that's ok. I hope we can still get along. And I promise I won't bite. I am, what some people call, a nice feminist or rather: a true feminist.

The Choices I Made and Why I Made Them

Last September I made the choice to be more conscious about my mental health because the summer prior to that I fell into depression, something that can easily overtake me when I don't live in a routine and constantly have my mind going and focused on positive things. I have already seen huge improvements in my way of thinking. Because I refuse to let stagnancy get the better end of me, I have improved my relationship with people, I see myself in a more positive but realistic light, and have seen improvements in my productivity. The betterment of my mental health has also trickled down into aspects of my physical health. 

In January I made the choice to be more conscious about my physical health. I've always known about the effects that being overweight can have, I just never cared enough. Finding people who are struggling with the same thing can be a tremendous motivator to start changing your life. Since starting, I've lost about 10 pounds and look forward to the many more pounds I get to shed. I've also established a reward system for my journey:

Yikes. I am extremely self-conscious about my weight so putting this out there for the world to see is a huge step for me haha. Until yesterday I didn't even know how much I weighed myself. I just got someone else to track the progress without me looking. But that stops now. Ignorance always ends up screwing you so I've made the choice to face my fears. I've mastered the art of looking at my bank account without fainting so I'm sure as hell not going to let some numbers get the best of me. 

Lastly, and most importantly, I've made the choice to stay in constant communication with God. I owe everything to him and more often than not, we forget this simple, little fact. Whether I'm repenting of something, celebrating with him, thanking him, discussing with him, or dreaming with him, I want him to be on my mind constantly. His sovereign presence is what makes all these changes possible. He is the ultimate worker in my life and I can't thank him enough for that. 

Since making all these choices and changes, I've received tremendous support. Support that I could've only dreamed of. I want to thank all of you who either encourage me, challenge me, or do both. You know who you are. 

And remember: If it doesn't challenge you, it won't change you. 

xoxo

Jess

The Perfect Christian Woman, Bigfoot, and Other Mythological Creatures

Ok, you may actually get less than you bargained for. I won't be talking about Bigfoot and other mythological creatures. What I am going to be talking about is our perceived notion of the Christian woman. You know, the Proverbs 31 kind of woman. Or at least the view that's been shoved down our throats for so many years.

Truth is, I don't have my crap together. Shocker. I know. I have foot-in-mouth syndrome. Sometimes my passion for something can be mistaken for me not having my emotions under control. I have vast amounts of student loan debt with no winning lottery ticket or Nigerian prince who needs my bank information in sight. With a failed, long-term relationship and no desire to have children, I'm also no little Miss Innocent. Up until last night this really discouraged me.

It started with toothpaste. Toothpaste for crying out loud. Halfway through brushing my teeth I noticed that a good chunk of toothpaste ended up my nose and my first thought was: Oh great, Jess. Seriously? You can't even handle brushing your teeth like an adult? In my mind this single, small incident reflected back on how my life is going. I'm almost in my mid-twenties. I don't have a permanent house to call my own. I'm single. I don't have a career. I have debt. I have incredibly dysfunctional family situations. Nothing is going according to plan. That's what the little voice inside my head kept telling me.

You wanna know what the plan was when I was 20 years old and just started attending Bible College?
Finish Bible College.
Get married to boyfriend. 
Get Master's in Psychology. 
Start a career. 
Have three children. 
Live mediocre-ly ever after. 

Truth is: I don't have my crap together. I can't speak for the men but I know that as women we are, so often, pressured into thinking that in order to be a successful woman of God you need to be a wife & a mother who fits into every single Christian cliché. A woman who has the perfect figure, who is a doting mother, who has an impeccable sense of fashion, and greets her husband at the door every day at 5:30pm with dinner ready on the table and the house in order.
Girls, please don't buy into this fairytale because that's exactly what it is: a fairytale. 

We are all different and unique for a reason. You want to know why I cringe every time I hear something about "Biblical Womanhood"? Because often what follows is an impossible set of standards, which we die trying to achieve. Listen to me: you don't have to have your crap together. I'll say it again:

You don't have to have your crap together. 

You get up every morning, you challenge yourself to grow. You get up every morning, you challenge yourself in your walk with God. Don't ever settle for a sedentary life. Just because you are surrounded by life's challenges doesn't mean you're a failure. Just because you are different from the women around you, doesn't mean that you fail at being God's daughter.

The next time you look at a woman in envy because she seems to have her life perfectly sorted out I want you to remember that this is most likely not the case. We all struggle in different ways. We all have these quirks about us that make us freaking awesome.

I get way too emotionally involved in TV shows. 
I'm vocal about social justice, feminism, and respect. 
I've been a horrible daughter at times. 
I value my friends tremendously. 
I pick my nose... sometimes. 
I pick my wedgies... sometimes. 
It doesn't take much to make me laugh. 
It doesn't take much to make me cry. 
I like to believe that my vulnerability and my transparency are strengths and not weaknesses. 
The older I get, the less I'm willing to settle. 
Sometimes I get overconfident and can be seen as arrogant. 
I love the gym.
I hate the gym.
I'd die happy if I drowned in caramel. 
Caramel. Seriously. 
Good food is the reason why I hate the gym. 
I have stuffed animals on my bed. 
Earlier tonight I had a dance party in my room. 
I like to believe I'm super tough. But I'm not. When faced with a choice, I will always choose tenderness.
I want people to listen to me without feeling the need to interrupt. But more often than not, this doesn't happen. 

My name's Jess and I don't have my crap together. 

And that's ok. 

Why the F-Word Needs to Become Acceptable

This is my desktop background. I've had it for a while and really like it because it sums up a lot of the things and values I stand for. Notice the key-word though: Feminist. 
In class this morning, someone who sat behind me read this little mantra, and addressed me by saying: "Not gonna lie, I saw the word "feminist" and kinda started judging you. But the rest of it is good though." Etc, etc, etc.
I'm sorry feminism offends you. Would someone please enlighten me as to why this is such an offensive word? To be completely honest, in most Christian circles, it really doesn't matter whether you utter the word feminist or the word fuck. Usually, you get about the same kinds of responses: gasps, utterances that vaguely sound like "What did you just say to me?", or simple disbelief paired with shaking of heads.
Someone once asked me whether I believe it's really necessary to call myself a feminist and if everyone else needs to follow that path. Probably not. I mean, honestly, would I cease to be a Christian if I simply stopped calling myself a Christian? No. I could call myself Bob for all I care. It doesn't matter so much what name I give myself but rather what I belief and how I act out those beliefs. BUT! Will I call myself a Christian even though it has garnered a disgusting reputation? Will I call myself a Christian if that means risking to be associated with Westboro Baptist Church? Of course! Because this world needs to get over its fear of names and false associations. I think it was Albus Dumbledore who said: "Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." Now, I am obviously not saying that I'm relating Christians or feminists to Voldemort but I do believe that that statement holds some truth to it. Enough with the fear of names!

I'll probably stop calling myself a feminist at some point.

• When 1 out of every 3 women will no longer have been sexually abused at some point during her life, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When women no longer have to fear for their lives when walking home in the dark, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When rape culture is a thing of the past, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When rape jokes become extinct, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When porn, which degrades women and only aids in sex-trafficking, stops becoming a normal part of culture, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When victims of rape or physical/sexual abuse are no longer blamed for the action of their perpetrator, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When there are no longer an estimated number of 27 million people in this world being trafficked (mostly for sexual purposes), I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When there are no more "go back to the kitchen and make me a sandwich" jokes, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When women in Christian circles are no longer looked down upon because they choose not to become a wife and/or mother, I will call myself a feminist.
• When boys and men stop being told that they're acting like a "pussy" or that they "throw like a girl" because this is offensive to both men and women, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When men finally understand that I am not against them but for them, I will stop calling myself a feminist.
• When the world finally recognizes women as people who deserve respect and who work just as hard, when the world stops seeing us women as over-emotional, period-driven, bra-burning, men-hating, creatures, when the world opens its eyes to the potential of every woman on earth, I will stop calling myself a feminist.

Then, and only then, will I stop calling myself a feminist.

Question is: when are you going to start?  

Expectations - The Big Game Changer

Okay.
Clear desk space. Tea in front of me. Water by my side. I'm showered after a long, productive day. Wet hair in a turban made out of a towel. Everything has its place. Everything is organized and clean with its little margins. That's how I like it. Coldplay is playing. Everything is right with the world. Few nights are more magical than when it's just me, my tea, and my thoughts.

Except... not everything is quite right. I ponder my relationships with people a lot. Constantly actually. A day doesn't go by that I don't evaluate at least one of the relationships I have in my life. Having said this, I place expectations on people. Unspoken ones, mostly.

I'll never tell you what I'm wanting to get out of our relationship but I want those things anyway. Of some people, I expect them to tell me how beautiful, smart, wonderful I am. Of some people, I expect them to help me out when I'm in a dire situation. Of some people, I expect them to follow me as if I was the greatest and coolest leader on earth. Of some people, I expect them to lead me as if I am so insecure in myself that I don't trust my own footsteps. Of some people, I simply expect them to make me laugh.

Now, before you think I'm the most selfish person on earth, do note that I love giving. I love to listen and to help out.

What's the issue then? The issue is that I place expectations on people that they are not capable of carrying. What my expectations really reveal are my insecurities. In a nutshell (and I almost wrote buttshell here), I want people to affirm my inner insecurities by placing expectations on them that they aren't even aware of. As soon as they start failing those expectations (as expected), I become disappointed and my insecurities are just thriving because clearly, if they didn't do all these things for me, I must not be worthy of it.

When this sort of thing happens, I either retreat into myself or I become angry with said person. Clearly they're not being a good enough friend or they would've recognized my unhealthy need for attention. *eyeroll* Can any of you relate to this or am I the only one who does this/feels this way?

What I now realize is the fact that I love people. I love having different kinds of relationships with different kinds of people. Does this mean that I will at some point benefit from having friends? Absolutely! I'm sure of it. But does it also mean that I'm in it for myself? Not at all.

I need to be a friend to someone because of what I have to offer them, not because of what I am able to gain.

The sooner I become aware of the fact that I cannot let my insecurities become someone else's responsibility, the sooner I am able to build healthier relationships where, when the other person does not behave in a way that I expect them to behave, I can be ok with myself.
If the other person has severely hurt you, know that this says more about them than you. Don't let your worth depend on them.

Your worth depends on your Creator. He has made you in His image and His grace is sufficient. Unlike us, He will never disappoint.

xo

Why I Am Getting Divorced

Some of you may not know this about me but I'm actually married. It's true! But it's not the fairytale kind of love. It's very abusive. I can't seem to win. Ever. When I first met my partner I felt strange. Never did I anticipate that I would make him my lifelong companion. Actually, I hope and prayed that this would be a short-term relationship but it developed and eventually I found myself tangled up in this sick and twisted way of life.

He has caused me a lot of grief. There would nights I couldn't sleep, days where the only thing I wanted to do was to curl up in a ball, and times where I didn't have the strength to go on living at all. He almost took my life, twice.

I was young when we met. Very young. Six years old, I believe. He just took me by surprise. He clung to me, intending to never let go and just stuck around.

I have now decided that this isn't a healthy way of living. Instead, I am kicking him to the curb, because honestly: there are better things for me out there. It's a very conscious decision and while this is going to be a process, I am also excited to at least begin this process.

Oh, right. Do you want to know his name? He's kind of a player. Latches on to a lot of girls. I was never truly the only one he "loved".

His name is: Insecurity.

Inspire Me

Inspiration always comes unexpectedly. We try to hang onto it for dear life, fearing that it leaves as quickly as it comes. We never know when the next dose of inspiration will fill our senses.

What I love about the concept of inspiration is that it is so deeply personal and individual. Every soul gets inspired by different people, things, and places.

I get inspired by watching people grow. I see people and their potential. I try not to see them in their current state but rather how the Father sees them. I envision their growth and get so excited when they are being challenged and forced to move. It makes my heart leap.

Tonight I watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. In this movie, he ends up travelling all over the place. He was a guy that never took chances in his life and therefore created his own little scenarios in his head aka he zoned out a lot. Eventually he is forced to move around in real life. But in the end, it wasn't the places that inspired me. It wasn't seeing the landscapes and people and breathtaking nature that inspired me, even though they were absolutely wonderful to look at.
In the end, what inspired me was the fact that he grew inside. He discovered more about himself and took back some things that time and conformity had stolen from him.

By watching other people grow, it inspires me to grow as well. In inspires me to conform more to Christ; to conform more to the very embodiment of inspiration, beauty, and love that he is.