cardboard-cloud-gods and wispy-floating-fears.

I start work at camp for the summer in about a week. While I've worked at the same camp for the past four summers, this will be my first year working as the sole assistant manager. My job will probably consist of some weird mix of administrative office work and outdoor maintenance work. And while I'm definitely excited to be back in my second home, nestled among towering pines and a quiet quiet lake, I'm also pretty nervous.

With more power comes more responsibility (didn't Spiderman say that?). In my opinion, with more power also comes more FEAR.

I've been nervous about different aspects of each summer for the past four years, and every single time, God has worked something beautiful and glorious and Light-filled out of it. Whether it's been subtle embers-like change or fiery and explosive change, God has continued to show up and be present and be Love in the midst of my tangled-up-fears and insecurities.

At the same time, it's exactly because God has always pulled through that I'm tempted to forget about this summer. To effectively 'surrender' it up to God by letting go, not thinking about it and reassuring myself that it will be good no matter what because GOD IS GOOD.

Maybe if I scream it loud enough, I'll be able to hear it.

Back and forth, back and forth, a dance I've learned to do with God, jumping between fretting over my fears and forgetting them (i.e. pretending I've suddenly overcome them). There's never any in-between or balanced middle ground - just me shifting precariously from one end of the spectrum to another.

I've been focusing a lot on the name Emmanuel recently. This idea of God with us. Whenever I hear that, I get a picture of God walking with us, holding our hands and taking real small steps as we stumble along and do our best to move forward. It's like he can choose to bolt ahead and leave us in the dust whenever he wants, but chooses to slow down out of the great love he has for us.

And it's striking to me because God isn't some distant deity up above in the sky. Whenever I think about surrendering my fears to God and slipping into my state of ignorant bliss, I have this image in my head of relinquishing my fears upwards, like they float up to the sky and disappear somewhere among the clouds where God can search them and sort them out later.

But according to Emmanuel, God is HERE, he's right now and right next to us, walking with us on this journey. 

So I'm trying something new this summer. I refuse to let my fears control me, to let them seep in with their darkness and fill me with self-doubt and anger. At the same time, I refuse to forget they exist, to simply surrender them up to the sky and pretend like I'm okay because God works everything together for my good. I refuse to keep twisting that poor verse to fit my selfish desires for comfort and safety.

Here I am, I can see my fears and the nerves I have for the added responsibility and leadership that will come with this summer. They're right here in front of my face and begging me to open up. I'm pouring them out and acknowledging they exist, shining light on every crack and crevice within them. My fears seem to lose so much power when I recognize them, when I can see them with all their complexities and keep on looking.

Here I am walking with God, side-by-side, holding onto his hand that Never Lets Go. I'm standing in his grace and inching forward with painful steps, ones grounded in real trust and vulnerability, not cardboard-cloud-gods and wispy-floating-fears.

And those fears may take a while to go away, they may cling to me like glue for the entire summer, but it's easier to fight against them when I actually know what I'm fighting against. Because if God is right here, if he really is walking with me and spurring my footsteps on with his power and might, then I can cling to him like the fears cling to my skin.

I know that God will work this summer together for my good. I know that something beautiful will come out of it, that things will never be as nerve-wracking as I make them out to be, and that I'll probably over-exaggerate every single fear I have.

But I'm done using that as an excuse to close my eyes, plug my ears and pretend like God's the only one walking down this path. I'm walking forward in Truth, not ignorance. I'm surrendering my fears to learn to Trust, not forget. To me, that sounds like an awfully better way to walk in Love, and to walk in Peace.

identity crisis: man up (published by Christians for Biblical Equality!)

Last year, I wrote a blog post on the phrase "man up" that soon became one of my most popular posts. Controversial posts have that effect, I guess, at least on my blog.

Christians for Biblical Equality is a fantastic organization that works worldwide to foster Christian equality most notably for gender, but race and class as well. I had the great privilege to hear CBE's director, Mimi Haddad, speak in one of my reconciliation classes last semester, and I immediately signed up for their e-newsletter, Arise, after hearing her words of truth and life and empowerment.

A few months back, I spotted an advertisement in Arise calling for authors to submit pieces of work around 500 words to be considered for publication. Realizing that my "man up" piece was roughly 500 words, I submitted it without giving it much thought. I guess I just assumed I wouldn't hear back.

Fast forward three days when one of CBE's workers responded to my initial email with news that they'd love to publish my piece in Arise! I couldn't believe it! Here we are, several months later, and my post is featured in the May 15th edition of Arise. CBE has been so gracious and encouraging through the process of sending e-mails back and forth, setting up my biography and trying to get everything ready these past few weeks. I absolutely love the work that they're doing around the globe, and am honored to be included in just a small part of their Kingdom work. 

The published version is more carefully edited and slightly different than the original, so you can still check it out even if you've read my initial posting. Make sure to check out the rest of their website, too. They are loaded with resources.

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Don't tell me to man up.

You can tell me to step up, or buck up, or cheer up, but don't you dare tell me to man up. And here's why.

1. "Man up" is often used in correlation with masculinity in society or the church. "Just man up and ask her out" or "man up and get your hands dirty" or "man up and take charge!" It reinforces the typical stereotypes that all men must be sports-loving, aggressive, action-oriented, visual, Bob-the-Builder-type handymen that go at it and constantly assume authority. Not that men can't love sports or fix things or be action-oriented. But by pairing those qualities with the phrase "man up," the implication is that such traits are actual requirements of being a man and attaining true manhood.

Click here to read the rest of the article and check out CBE's website!

layers and loopholes in my fairytale-box-faith.

As some of you may know already, I'm currently enrolled at a Christian university as a Reconciliation Studies and Biblical/Theological Studies double major (with a new Gender Studies minor that was just implemented last semester, WOOT!). Half of my classes are Bible classes, a few revolve around gender/sexuality and the last one is a reconciliation class. As you can see, pretty much all of my classes have a serious Christian bent to them.

I don't know why it surprises me, but it wasn't until I started attending a Christian school that I truly questioned what I believe, picking apart the layers to the in-between-cracks of the things I'd always taken for granted. This past year has seriously been one big wrestling match with God, where I've been knocked down and thrown about and tossed back and forth, only to come up swinging again because I'm not going to give up without answers. 

I've taken long walks and literally done nothing but question God and yell at him and rack my brain for answers I just don't have. And I got so mad, I still get mad, because how are we supposed to tell what's cultural and what still applies today and why isn't he more specific on gender and sexuality and why do so many people disagree on so many things? 

And Love smiles, come child. Come with your questions and loosely strung together answers with confusion dripping through clenched fists that can barely see the path ahead but just keep walking forward. 

For the longest time, I felt like a horrible Christian for having these thoughts, like getting angry or confused with God was a one-way ticket to hell. And then I got to class one day and we started talking about covenant and how that concept implies a two-way street between us and God. Our covenant with God is a dialogue, not a monologue, which includes room for us to grieve, to question, to yell. I love what Walter Brueggemann says in his chapter, "The Costly Loss of Lament,"

"One loss that results from the absence of lament is the loss of genuine covenant interaction, since the seccond party to the covenant (the petitioner) has become voiceless or has a voice that is permitted to speak only praise and doxology... The outcome is a "False Self," bad faith that is based in fear and guilt and lived out as resentful or self-deceptive works of righteousness. The absence of lament makes a religion of coercive obedience the only possibility."

It can't be reduced to only praise on our behalves, for then it's not authentic. The lament psalms clearly show this kind of raw relationship with God, one with its ups and downs, where God is greatly to be praised in one psalm before being severely questioned, called out and yelled at in the next (see Psalm 89 for a great example). For God initiates this covenant, he comes in and makes his promises and gives us the freedom to hold him to those, even from our feeble vantage point that rarely ever sees the full picture. 

And that's beautiful, isn't it? It's one of the first times I felt like I started to piece some answers together since being at school. My relationship with God stopped feeling like a constricting cardboard box, squeezing me in with its tight parameters and stipulations that made it hard to breathe. This relationship, this covenant is organic and growing, it's lively and messy, pounding-fists-anger and leaping-joy-praise, spreading its seeds out into the soil of our entire lives, a slow walk into sanctification and Christ-centered renewal that holds on even when we push back. When we are faithless, he is faithful.

And every time I push back brings me closer to His heart, because I'm trying, I'm really trying to work out this faith with small steps forward. I guess I don't see it as a sin to get angry at God anymore, because he can take it and he sees the drive underneath the doubt and confusion, the determination to seek him and find him in the haze and pinpoint his Light.

For that anger and doubt is not futile, it doesn't sit there and fester but goes straight up to the only One who can truly reach out and help, the only One who keeps all of his promises and vows to never leave our sides. It's a healthy kind of anger, one expressed in the context of a real relationship that lives and moves and breathes. And that's real, you know? It's more than a Sunday school answer to a freaking difficult question, it goes beyond just repeating Jesus loves me when I start to question that love and pick it apart in all its radiant beauty.

But I hold onto Christ, still. I hold fast and I cling, even when I don't have the answers and I don't feel like God has the answers. I know this to be true because I see God's handiwork so abundantly in my life, see his fingerprints on the nature around me and his imprints of grace in the hearts of others. There are so many things that point straight back to him with sweeping floodlights and laser beams.

But I'm done assuming and blabbering out my beliefs because the Bible tells me so when I've never actually read that part of the Bible for myself. I'm done being lazy and refusing to question God for fear of getting on his bad side or somehow losing my identity as a child of God. I'm done feeling safe. This life of love isn't meant to be safe. I'm going to cling to Christ and his love, but I can't keep doing that while plugging my ears and closing my eyes. I can't stay locked up in my fairytale-box-faith any longer just because it's nice and easy and doesn't hurt to stay there.

I'm walking forward, I'm wrestling forward, hobbling forward with broken ribs or dashing forward with waving arms. I'm giving it all up to God, the kaleidoscope of praise and blessings, anger and questions. I can't give anything less, for then it's not truly myself. And it's my firm belief that God doesn't want us in fragments, but as we are, wholly, completely and fully in our intricate layers and loopholes. And that's when faith gets pretty terrifying, but incredibly beautiful. 

And Love smiles, come child. Don't be afraid. Come.

say something.

So, I recorded a cover of A Great Big World's hit song, "Say Something." I found the sheet music from musicnotes.com and ended up learning it in about two hours. I freaking love the song's simplicity and soothing melody, but it speaks to me on a deeper level than just the outer music notes and measures. The song captures the emotions and feelings of the first half of Yellowtree. So perfectly, in fact, that hearing it still sometimes brings tears to my eyes.

The song itself is tragic, revolving around a person saying goodbye to a crumbling relationship. In my book, after Levi and Jake steadily grow apart due to the peer pressure of high school, Jake lashes out at Levi as an initiation into his new group of friends - physically and emotionally injuring Levi. The process leading up to this traumatic event unfolds slowly. There is no sudden moment where Levi and Jake's friendship suddenly falls apart - it's a slow, almost untraceable journey, and one that leaves Levi hard pressed to explain how it happened. It's small things here and there that keep them slipping farther and farther away from the close brothership they used to share.

"Say Something" is the perfect theme song to capture what Levi feels as he watches Jake fade from his life, unable to save himself, Jake or the friendship. It simply happens and before he knows it, Levi has to face the fact that Jake isn't the same person he used to be and it's time to say goodbye.

Of course, the last half of the book will deal with the slow but beautiful process of reconciliation during their three months of working as counselors at the same summer camp. I still haven't found the theme song for that segment, but it will definitely end on a less melancholy note. But right now, for this dark and often times confusing part of the book, "Say Something" rings true in every single line.

Say something

I'm giving up on you

I'll be the one if you want me to

Anywhere I would've followed you

Say something

I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small

It was over my head

I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall

I'm still learning to love

Just starting to crawl

Say something

I'm giving up on you

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

Anywhere I would've followed you

Say something

I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride

You're the one that I love

And I'm saying goodbye

Say something

I'm giving up on you

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

Anywhere I would've followed you

Say something

I'm giving up on you

Say something

I'm giving up on you

Say something

Please.