myths on dating // the preface

I know, I know...if there's anything I'd rather NOT write about in the world, it would be on this subject matter. My employment at a Christian bookstore for a couple of years helped me develop a slight distaste towards literature on Christian dating philosophies. You get to a point where you realize they're all saying the same thing. Don't get me wrong--these books serve a purpose. But they can all be summarized with two words: date (or court...if you've chosen to use that word instead--and on that note, can someone really explain to me the difference?) wisely. 

That's why I hesitate to start this series of posts. In my opinion, it is much more beneficial to teach a biblical view on gender identity than it is to teach a biblical view on dating. Why? Because the latter really doesn't exist--most people just write from their past experiences. I'd much rather see us spend our time discussing God's instruction for true manhood and womanhood. I think most of our frequently debated topics on dating would be a lot clearer if we did so.

Therefore, these posts aren't solely limited to the context of dating. It's just the context I see the myths in the most (which isn't uncommon when you are in your 20s). But I'm going to attempt to examine them on the basis of having a correct view of God's purpose in gender. 

Now, before I go any further, I should also point out the fact that I am single. And although I've learned a few lessons from my own relationships, all of them have obviously ended for various reasons, which leaves me with very little credibility to write on the issue. Therefore, if you feel as though this is adequate means for dismissing everything I have to say on this subject matter for fear that I may screw up this area of your life, I will not hold it against you if you choose to read no further. :)

Let me introduce you to what you can expect in the coming days. The following "myths"--better described as an incorrect way of viewing these types of relationships--are phrases that I hear all too often...and at one time, may have even come out of my mouth:

1. "It's going to take a great man to earn my respect."

2. "You complete me."

3. "We're just friends..."

4. ummm...I have yet to think of a title for this one. So you'll be surprised. 

5. "I'm ready to get married."

And I really don't want someone to explain to me the difference between dating and courting. The above statement was made in sarcasm. Just in case there's anyone that's really passionate about the issue...

on being vulnerable (part 2)...

I have a problem asking for things I need. I suppose it's because I value my independence. This has always been the case, but I've always been hesitant to admit that fact that I like being self-sufficient. I suppose it's because I've never been quite certain whether this is a strength or a weakness.

When it comes to being vulnerable with others, my independence has posed as a weakness, however. In relationships with others, in my relationship with God, I spend a great deal of energy proving that I have very few needs. A false sense of satisfaction comes from these moments where I attempt to deny my humanity. 

But I am human. I make mistakes and I know failure and I've been broken and I was not created to live life alone. In the Old Testament, God states that "it is not good for man to be alone." And the beauty of this statement is that--in this moment of creation--God is making a statement about His nature, not just a statement about humanity. In his triune nature, God models the perfection of community.

If I believe that I was created in the image of God, I must learn how to live in a community where I surrender my independence for honest relationships. The fear that keeps me from showing my need to others--that I am not God, and that God is not man--is an attempt to ask God to deny His nature.

To need is not a weakness. To need is to know the only thing that can give me strength.

on being vulnerable...

I've felt rather uninspired to write lately, which isn't exactly rare by any means. It's not that I don't have anything to write about. In fact, I have a stack of post-it notes and email drafts and church bulletins and lists on my PDA of many underdeveloped thoughts that have crossed my mind. Usually, my writing process is as simple as choosing one of these topics and emptying my mind of everything that comes to mind in accordance with the chosen subject matter.

But tonight, I'm free-styling it with some thoughts on vulnerability. Mostly because I've never understood how to be vulnerable well. Or maybe it's not something anyone can do well. If one of the purposes of being vulnerable is to prove that no one has life perfected, I suppose doing vulnerability well may be a paradox.

At any rate, I truly believe that a person can get to a place where they enjoy vulnerability. I know that may sound like a foreign concept to some. I've gone from being too vulnerable too quickly to not being vulnerable with anyone, and neither extremes have been enjoyable, but rather ineffective and unhealthy. 

Despite all of this, I have to believe that there is a balance that allows us to invite people into our lives to walk alongside us despite our faults, learning to celebrate in our inadequacy and asking God for the wisdom to know when to speak and when to be silent. Experiencing joy in community is more than just simply hanging out and gaining friends--it's having accountability with brothers and sisters in Christ who know us in our strengths and weaknesses.

There is risk in relationships--imperfect people are never completely safe. But it is my prayer that you and I continually strive towards a vulnerability that is not based on the feelings we gain from it, but for the encouragement and edification that comes from admitting that we are not perfect. 

mickey mouse pancakes

My grandpa liked to claim he was a Cubs fan. I'm pretty sure he started following them only when he realized it would cause a reaction out of me and my sister. In the summertime, I would walk into my grandparents' house, and the first words out of his mouth were, "How about them Cubs?" followed by an uncontainable laughter. I must have explained to him 100+ times that the Cubs were the #1 enemy of my beloved Cardinals while he just smiled.

Sometimes, he would even have the game on their enormous big screen TV in the living room. Every few years, my grandparents would save up their money and combine their funds to buy a new TV for a Christmas or Anniversary. And every year, it was bigger than the previous TV by at least a foot. I would always ask him the score of the game, and he would give me some ridiculous answer; which proved to me that he hadn't actually been watching the game, but only flipped over from his usual programming of Family Matters (he loved Steve Urkel), Jeopardy (where he provided an answer to EVERY question, even though he rarely got any right), or some cheaply produced movie on the Sci-Fi channel.

Of course, grandpa had "his chair" in the living room to watch TV in. It's actually where I picture him the most, I suppose because I loved crawling into his lap when I was younger. As I got older, I would sit next to him and play cards; Kings in the Corner was our game, and my grandpa usually let me win. It's also from this chair that my grandpa stated his famous lines, attempting to give me advice on life. Whenever I was hungry, he would simply say, "There's some sardines in the fridge that'll make hair grow on your chest." If Jenna and I sang along to a TV commercial, he'd respond with, "What did you do with the money your mom gave you for singing lessons?" And anytime I would tell him about a boy I liked, he would ask, "Is that the boy with one ear longer than the other?"

I suppose now is the time to tell you that my grandpa was not REALLY my grandpa, although he's the closest thing to a grandpa I've ever known. A few weeks after I was born, a couple named Tom and Fran Morgan started watching me in their home while my parents were at work. Because they watched their grandchildren as well, I grew up calling them "grandpa" and "grandma", and never thought of them as anything different. When I finally realized they weren't my actual grandparents, they didn't allow me to call them anything different. My grandpa would introduce me as his granddaughter, followed by a "Doesn't she look so much like me?" People would agree, and we would laugh, knowing that we didn't share a gene pool.

There was never a day that I didn't know that my grandpa loved me and was proud of me. He told the stories of changing my diapers as if it was an honor. On my birthdays, he always called the local country radio station (which I NEVER listened to, but he never remembered that) and had the DJ that day make a special announcement. In the mornings when I'd arrive at their house before school, my grandpa would always put a little bit of his aftershave on me because I wanted to remember what he smelled like throughout the day.

Each year, my school would have a pancake breakfast to raise money for a cause I currently can't remember, and every year my grandpa would cook for it. I remember standing in line, waiting impatiently to get up to the window...because I wouldn't be handed a regular pancake like all the other kids. As soon as he saw his granddaughter, my grandpa would pour the batter into three circles on the grill and wait until they joined together to make the perfect mickey mouse pancake.

I will always love mickey mouse pancakes.

Tom Morgan
April 3, 1937--December 19, 2007

surrender

I've been learning lately that the extraction of pride in my life is a painful, but necessary, process. Recently, I've just been in a weird funk with a consecutive amount of days ranging from "just OK" to "I never want to repeat that again." I think I'm anxious about life's changes, but I'm not taking the necessary steps to lay my burdens down at the feet of God. These steps are simple...I just need to let go of the control I cling to so tightly. But instead, I hold on to insecurities and doubts that Satan seems to put in my mind every day.

I want to know what it means to have simple faith. This morning, I simply prayed, "Lord, remind me of what I know is true: that through your Son's life, death, and resurrection, we have forgiveness. Remind me that you are good, and that your love has, and always will, endure."

It's in this simple faith that joy exists. Some days, I am so concerned with my own self that I've forgotten the peace that comes in humbling myself before the Lord. And on those days, I'm never satisfied and never content.

I need to leave Egypt. But I can't do it alone.

my love

I have fallen in love.

And the object of my love is not perfect. Far from it, actually. But I claim all of my love's imperfections. In fact, my love helps me see my own imperfections, which draws us both closer to our first love--the Lord. So despite the imperfections, I continue to commit to my love, though at times I've been hurt by that which has won my affections.

It pains me when people talk about my love in ways that convey something other than respect and admiration. If my love does not have peace, joy, or justice, I desire to provide it. I will go before the throne of my Lord for my love, asking that sin not threaten that which I adore.

Ask me to give up my love, I will not. There is very little purpose in life without my love. This need comforts me, because I know that despite the hardships, my love will never leave me. I will defend my love to all, because my love has taught me humility and beauty and purity. My love has refined me.

"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace...

Therefore, I declare to you today that I am innocent of the blood of all men. For I have not hesitated to proclaim to you the whole will of God. Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood. I know that after I leave, savage wolves will come in among you and will not spare the flock. Even from your own number men will arise and distort the truth in order to draw away disciples after them...

Now I commit you to God and to the word of his grace, which can build you up and give you an inheritance among all those who are sanctified."--Paul, in Acts 20.

thirsty?!

Last week, I discovered that I had 10+ bottles of water that were anywhere from 11-92% full in my refrigerator. ALL of them were previously open and partially drank out of. After waiting a few days to try and decide what I should do with the accumulation of water bottles that had touched the mouths of friends or family members, I came to the conclusion that I just didn't care. So I started drinking the water, trying not to think about the possible germs that may be present.
I suppose I could make a good spiritual illustration out of this. Something about how people can become numb to the source that they try to quench their thirst for significance from. But I'm tired. So my only point in this post is to have you know that I really don't like wasting water. Or wasting anything, for that matter.