My Cup Overflows

In 4th grade, I picked up an oboe for the first time and didn't put it down for 9 years.  The echo of the last chord ringing through an auditorium fills my heart with extreme gladness.  I joined various choirs and to this day you will hear me trying so hard to nail every harmony in an Ingrid Michaelson song.  Over the course of 3 years in highschool, I made a dozen mix tapes for the boy I had a crush on saturated with secret messages of teen angst and unrequited romance.  

When I hear a choir singing a beautiful hymn, I am carried to a place of such deep spirituality.  When that same hymn is contemporized, the comfort swells inside me and I am reminded of expansive ways God is manifest in the world.  A Taizé chant softens my heart to God, to transformation, to the movement of the Holy Spirit.  Because of the solace I take in music, I am able to move through the world authentically without fear because a solid chord progression or key change can bring me right back to center instantly.

I get music. Music gets me.

When I was a senior in high school, my best friend told me that she had made a playlist of songs to listen to while making out.  Having never kissed anyone, I made a face kind of like this:

Freaks and Geeks (1999-2000)

I couldn't understand why that was even a thing. Do you stop kissing someone and say, "oh. hold on. I have a playlist for this"?  What happens when the playlist is done? Do people even kiss that long?  I just didn't get it.. at all.. why did she need to have both of these things at once?

And then I kissed someone.  It felt remarkable, not just physically, but in my spirit.  Because of kissing, I began to understand the world around me so much better because, at last.. finally, I could understand this body in which my spirit dwells.  It tapped into my belief that I can only exist because others exist. I finally knew, tangibly, that someone else existed.

Kissing and music are two elements of what makes my spirit come alive, what makes my heart rejoice and glorify God.  They are part of a myriad of experiences that add up to the way I bear witness to the revealed God in the world.  I can see, now, why my best friend made that playlist.  When you find things that make your spirit come alive, imagine the good it may do to experience both of those things at the same time.

And She Kissed Me Like She Meant It

On Ash Wednesday, many folk in the Christian tradition walk around with an ashen crosses on our foreheads.  We are reminded that humankind, in the narrative form, comes from dusty earth and it is there we will return.  One of the stories goes that God saw that the earth needed a lover, ones who will care for it and cultivate it, so God scooped up some dust and breathed into it.

God kissed us into existence. God's breath mixed with that which would be our own. God recognized that our breath was caught in our throats because we could feel God so close to us and we longed for it.  God released us from that tangled and mangled state into fullness.  A kiss is what brought humankind into its most authentic and original state.  God had breath to share and had to teach us how to gasp it in.  Dust cannot just be formed into the shape of persons and expected to live.  God had to teach us, God had to show us.

On Ash Wednesday, Christians acknowledge that moment of intimacy as part of our narrative.  We remember that God kissed our bodies into being, God shared His breath with us and our spirits grew from that longing.  If it is to dust we shall return when our days on this earth have finished, I pray that God will kiss me again.  I pray that the life I am leading as I walk this ground, the breath that I share so closely with lovers, will help me recognize God when She kisses me again, welcoming my body into the safety of dust.

Fluent in Love

I used to think that in order to love someone, I had to do everything. Take them out to dinner. Buy them flowers. Do their laundry. Tell them all the time how beautiful, kind, and smart they are. I would hug them and say, "I love you."  Spend every free moment with them. If sex was a part of our relationship, I would have sex whenever she wanted, however she wanted. If I loved someone, I would dream them. Adore them. Give everything of myself for them.

Let me say that for a long time, I tried to sustain this lifestyle-- not just with my girlfriends, but with my family and friends as well.  I wanted to say the kindest things.  Buy them the best gifts, even if I couldn't afford them. Stay up too late hanging out because how would they know I loved them if I didn't spend all my time with them?  You may be able to see how unmanageable and, frankly, irresponsible these behaviors are.

So when a friend sent me a quiz online that would tell me what my love language was, I felt kind of curious. I thought I had this love thing on lock. I nailed it. I was doing it right.  I felt this way especially because I come from the Christian tradition.  A tradition that, culturally, upholds the belief that sacrificial love is the ultimate kind of love.  According to any ol' Christian, Christianity will tell you that unless you give absolutely everything of yourself to someone else, like Jesus did, you aren't actually emulating the way Jesus loved.

What does this mean for someone whose love language is physical touch?  I am most meaningfully fulfilled through consensual and appropriate touch.  A kiss on the cheek from a parent. A hug from a dear friend. Sex with a lover. What happens if those things consume my life?  How unsafe is it for me to only know how to express romantic love through sex? What risks do I face?  How can I respect a friend who may have different physical boundaries around hugs or cuddles?  What if I cannot tell my parents and family that I love them without kissing them on the cheek?

It means that the Christian church needs to have a new conversation about what love looks like. Can look like. We need to look at the ways Jesus expressed love, and invited us into love.  Remember that Jesus asked us to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Jesus calls us to love ourselves.  Offer balance... forgiveness... compassion to our_selves. Jesus asks us to be fluent in our own love language.  To know how to use it to sustain us and give us life and also how to help us communicate the intricate parts of our hearts and spirits to others.

#okcupid #Christian #andveryseriousaboutit?

The other day, some friends and I were talking about dating and before too long, we got onto the topic of okcupid.  It's an inevitability.  1 out of 3 marriages begin online, and (if my own dating history is evidence) even more people meet their dates online.  70% of the people I have dated looked through my profile and felt curious enough to meet me in person.

Before our conversation gets too far, someone asks, "so.. do you list your religion or leave it blank?"  We're given such excellent options: 6 mainstream religions (Catholicism even separated from Christianity), atheism, agnosticism, or the (always helpful) "other."  The next drop down box is even more curious:

okcupid, among other dating sites, is one of the primary mechanisms people of all ages use to find everyone from a hook up to their forever love.  Integrating the concept of faith life into the mix is so challenging.  Faith can be just as diverse as the people and sexualities we can find on many dating sites. And yet they can feel to us as superficially related as we feel about a profile that barely reflects the depths of who we are.

So where do we begin?  Sexuality has already recognized that faith is a part of a person's life- and that there are many ways of interacting with it.  Maybe faith is something we are "very serious about."  Maybe we don't exactly know what's going on and are kind of bumbling through until we settle somewhere- and maybe we won't settle anywhere.

I wonder what it would look like if spirituality approached sexuality the same way.  As something to be discovered, a continual process of exploration, something we can take seriously or something we can have fun with.

From where I sit, there is only one place to start: honest expression of both.  I told my friends that on my okcupid page, I do share that I am Christian.  I don't indicate a level of seriousness because that can change a million times a day.  I feel very comfortable merging my faith life with my sexuality. Pouring my spirit into my sexuality.  Placing sexuality as my primary identity, and putting Christianity into it.

What I invite myself to do next is to pour my sexuality into my faith life.  Be a public witness to the way body and love have come together to sustain my spirit in ways equal to that of traditional worship on a Sunday morning.  In contexts where I am asked to be a spiritual person first and everything else second, weave in elements of the way healthy sexuality and bodylove have come to form me as a spiritual being.

Two parts. One whole.

I Made It Til Now

If you have seen me around the months of October and November, you know how strongly I feel about all things Christmas happening far too soon. I get so frustrated as soon as I see advertisements with jingle bells.  My toes tingle with fury at the manifestations of capitalism and addiction to material possessions that bombard every media outlet with which I come into contact.  I wonder why people feel so compelled to skip Thanksgiving and jump right to Christmas.  Despite all the horrid parts of history that are typically glossed over in Thanksgiving celebrations, I think there is value in expressing gratitude- especially in the hopes of encouraging humility.  Thanksgiving, for me, is an important holiday.

I have to swallow my poor attitude and acknowledge that right now, I have strung twinkle lights in my room, added a Christmas channel to my Pandora radio account, burned a spruce scented candle, and prepared hot cocoa (with a dash of candy cane flavored vodka.)  My poor roommates, bless their hearts, heard me belt out Silent Night, Silver Bells, and Baby It's Cold Outside.  My neighbors downstairs heard me hammering into the wall repeatedly in order to get the twinkle lights in just the right spot.  I have given in to cultural Christmas. (Only a week and a half early- mind you!)

The thing is, I miss winter. Snow. Chill. Scarves. Boots. Carols. Walking Tucker in the crisp evening. Decorating a tree. Giggling over old ornaments.  Setting up the manger.  As the semester grows closer to an end and my excitement grows for travels back to the Midwest and the East coast, I find myself longing for the sense of warmth I feel around holiday time.  A few days in December when Christmas feels like the Christmas I have always known is not enough for me this year.  I am hoping to create a sense of holiday, of anticipation of new life, of renewal right here in my own home. My tiny little room.

To those who have felt slighted or judged by my anti-Christmas-Before-Thanksgiving sentiments, I do apologize. I won't be as big of a Grinch this year.

An Act of Self Care

A couple weeks ago, I called my insurance provider and requested a list of mental health professionals within a mile and a half of my address. A list of 5 appeared in my inbox a few short minutes later.  After Googling each of them, I reached out to one. Her response also appeared in my inbox shortly after my request.

And then it sat there. As each day went by, I became more and more aware that the one time slot she still had open in her Berkeley office would probably be filled before I could wrap my head around being in therapy again.  In one of the few moments yesterday when I didn't feel grey and fuzzy all over, I e-mailed her to find out if that spot was still available. Weekly, on Thursdays. 10 am. Three blocks from campus.

On my way to class today, she called. We set our first meeting for this week. Two days from now.  As soon as I hung up the phone with her, there was a shift in my demeanor. I was cheerful, glad for the sake of being glad. Participating in class didn't take everything out of me.  I spent 5 hours with a new friend and conversation flowed easily.  The grey cleared, just for a few moments.

I'm very much looking forward to beginning therapy again.  Seeing Sarah in Nashville this summer helped me grow in ways I didn't know I could.  I am under no illusion that I will address everything that needs to be addressed, or that I will become a brand new person after beginning this new relationship.  What I am, however, expecting is to be a more authentic me.  Authenticity and integrity are two of my strongest core values.  Seeing a therapist empowers me to do both, gives me tools to do both.  While I won't be this public about the contents of my sessions with this new therapist, I will be public about my advocacy for all people to enter therapy.  Even if you don't feel grey or fuzzy, like I have been feelings for a few months, there is nothing as enriching and vibrant as growing further in your understanding of your_self.

here it goes

I am about to do a new thing;
   now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
   and rivers in the desert.
Isaiah 43:19

Here I am again, friends. Seminary is a great place to start shaking up some thoughts in my dusty spirit.  My life feels like that tingling sensation that consumes an appendage when it's waking up from being asleep. It's uncomfortable, maybe even painful, but soon enough (and maybe quite suddenly) the feeling is gone, and you're ready to go- better than you were before.

I hope to use this blog to record some of that tingle.  Seeking prayers on my journey.