Sometimes, “Being A Woman” Makes Me Tired

Editor’s Note: Today’s post is by Kirsten Oliphant. She blogs at stillhatepickles.com and tweets at @kikimojo. I read her submission with great relief and peace. It also reminded me a little of Hannah’s post, The Life I Discovered Inside of 13 Days Without Social Media. Enjoy the rest of your week, girlfriends! – Lauren

The past few months I have been branching out online, reading blogs and posts and sites that are a little outside the typical, comfortable easy space for me. It has been really enlightening to hear views from women I respect and admire about feminism, submission, marriage, oppression, and the Proverbs 31 woman. Many of these posts and voices are in complete disagreement with each other, which is great for making me think.

At first, I was taking in all these new ideas, mulling them over and letting them sort of steep in my head. I felt excited and energized and like I had so many things to think about, places I needed to grow.

But now I just feel tired.

Weary from the reading and the thinking and the weight of so many expectations of me – just one woman. According to these various voices:

– I am to be like the Proverbs 31 woman in all her success and busyness. Or, I am not to be like her, but to celebrate the victories in my day, small and large.

– I am to submit to and respect my husband. Or, I am to be his equal partner.

– I am to think of myself as my husband’s complement. Or, I am to think of myself as his exact equal, which is somehow not his complement.

– I should strive to be a homemaker. Or, I should strive for success wherever I feel gifted.

– I should dress myself in a way that doesn’t make men stumble. Or, I should know that it is a man’s responsibility to tame his lustful thoughts.

Do you feel tired yet?

I chose opposite viewpoints and over-simplified them just for the sake of example. In my reading, I have found that there are so many beliefs about who a good, godly woman should be – running all in between (and maybe outside) those polar points.

The bottom line, however, is that no matter what blog or viewpoint I was reading, I ended up feeling weighed down by expectations of being a Woman. Can I take a timeout?

I’m still not sure where I land on a lot of these ideas, but maybe I don’t want to pitch my tent in a camp with a title on it, whether that be complementarian, egalitarian, feminist, or something altogether different. I want a break from categories and expectations.

I want some rest in trying to interpret what every directive towards women in the Bible really means in today’s culture and in my life.

I want to take some time and stop thinking of who I need to be as a woman, and simply think of who Jesus wants me to be as a human being. As a follower. As a sinner, washed clean by his grace.

For this moment, that seems a big enough task without adding on top of that what kind of woman I am supposed to be.

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus,” Paul says in Galatians 3:28. Why? As he tells us in the prior verses, this is because we have been clothed with Christ.

The outer trappings of our selves are colored with the inner trappings of a heart washed clean, belonging to Jesus. This clothing transcends gender and culture and position. It transcends denomination and affiliation and movement. For a brief time I can rest easy in this truth, shaking off that feeling of pressure to be the right kind of woman. No, my affiliation is ultimately with Jesus.

Paul is not saying that those things do not matter, only that underneath all the divisions we have a unity that transcends them all. For a time, I simply want to rest. I want to rest at the feet of Jesus while he speaks, not busying myself with other things, as significant as they may be. At his feet, I see the grace of one who crossed barriers and social constructs and religious expectations. I see the grace of one who touched the unclean, who put his own spit in the eyes of the blind, who let sinful women wipe his feet with their hair.

The view from down here is lovely, and when I’m looking up at him, I don’t need to worry about what kind of woman he wants me to be. I think that he is pleased with me being right here at his feet in worship and adoration, in intimacy. I can just be.

I greatly appreciate all the smart, thinking women who are so eloquent in their written thoughts about womanhood. I will continue to read their blogs and posts and tweets. I’m not saying that womanhood isn’t extremely significant, or that affiliations and identity and persuasions do not matter. I simply need a break every now and then to put them in perspective.

My identity, beyond that of womanhood, is as a person of God.

So I am taking a break for a moment to get back to the well itself, from which I can drink deep, be refreshed, and then dive back into the fray of diverse thought on what it means to be a woman.

March 6, 2013 | Categories: Daily Life | 39 Comments »

The Art of Change

Editor’s Note: January 1st can be difficult. With others around us posting and shouting about how amazing their last year was and how much more amazing this new year will be, our own failure can swell within us until we can hardly bear it. I don’t often write for Good Women Project, but today’s little piece is by yours truly. I blog at laurennicolelove.com/blog, and I tweet at @laurendubinsky. So much love to each of you as you rest in the old and the new, and as we all learn to perceive our constant change. – Lauren

* * *

to fight the stagnant.

there is an art to change.

and the secret is not in the pursuit of it. or in it’s accomplishment.

but rather in the art of perceiving it.

* * *

you have moved. you have grown. you have changed. you have improved. you have become strengthened. you have learned.

you have seen. you have been. you have said.

you have created. you have chosen life. you have ended death.

you have become more beautiful. you have grown into yourself.

you are more.

there is an art to observing the change you have made.

there is an art to knowing your growth, and ending the lie in your bones that says you are right where you always have been.

it is worth your time to document your movement forward. it is worth the hour of your day to know what you have done with your time.

sometimes we must move into our past, in order to accurately see our present.

create a place on the page, in the journal, on the blog, in the portfolio, on the table, in your soul. create a place to document your change.

* * *

look at your first month of blog entries.look at your journal from three years ago.

look at your first photos.

do you see the movement?

write down the lies you used to believe.
write down the truth you know now.
write down the part of your heart you hadn’t met 5 years ago.

do you see the growth?

find your first pieces of art.
find your first songs.
find your first designs.

do you see your progress?

think about the mistakes you’ve made that will not be made again.
think about the depth of character that was lacking 10 years ago.
think about the hidden places of the old depression.

do you see the new life?

sift through your albums, your archives, your chapters.
sift through your resumes, your childhood, your classes.
sift through your failures, your accomplishes, your proofs of action.

know the growth reflected in the dissonance between the past and present – know that your present will always be your past, and soon.

* * *

he says he is faithful. to move, to carry, to nurture, to redeem, to assign purpose. he is faithful to carry onto completion the good work he began in you.you cannot help but grow. he has not forsaken us. like a tree beside still waters, you could not cease to grow even if you so desired.

because he is the great i am.

and in him we live, we move, we have our being.

* * *

refuse the lie of stagnancy. refuse the lie of stillness. refuse the lie of hopelessness.

document your change. be encouraged. and continue to move.

happy new year, beautiful girls.

January 1, 2013 | Categories: Daily Life | 31 Comments »

On Feeling Vain About My Mascara And Being The Perfect Christian Woman

Editor’s Note: I believe that when the enemy can’t change our innocent actions, he’ll attempt to convince us our motive is untrue. False guilt keeps many a heart from living out of it’s new goodness. Today’s post is by Samantha Hardcastle. She blogs at The Lady Journal and you can follow her artwork and writings here. – Lauren

Photo by Branden Harvey / / Design by Lauren Dubinsky

I’m so glad that I came across a place where I can allow my raw and broken side to be unveiled.

I’ve struggled hard with perfectionism and trying to be accepted in a world that did not seem to listen—if at all.

Throughout it, I battled beauty, self-worth, despair, loneliness, anxiety and fear; so, pretty much all of the ugly ones. All of my infliction caused me to be too shy to grab a tissue in junior high. It caused me to silence my lips even when I wanted to shout. I’d hide in Wuthering Heights. I’d hide in my worn torn sketch book. The person I was becoming, I slowly began to realize, was not the woman I was made to be.

Then again, what kind of pretty little version of Christ was I supposed to be anyways? One that never sins?

One that never gets angry? One that never glares at another woman for glaring at me? I began to surrender to, but despise, the whispers that told me I had to be a saint to be truly loved.

I felt this constant burden that I had to be an inner nun to be accepted wholly by God and by those around me. I felt ashamed. I felt futile. I felt my heart sting every time I’d apply mascara. Would I really allow myself to be exposed the way I naturally looked in the mornings and be OK with it? My goodness, there are people dying along the dusty trails of third world countries for the sake of Christ – and here I am, pettily applying dark-brown mascara to my eye-lashes. I fell even tinier into my already deflated image of self-worth. Would it ever stop?

I feel angst when anyone says, “Oh, she won’t even go out without make-up,”  so I cover it up with things like, “Hey, I just like to feel ready for the day.” To top it off, I just got out of an English class where a young man beside me wrote about how women shouldn’t wear make-up—and of course, I was the only one out of the two ladies in the group who wore make-up that early morning. Just lovely.

What was so wrong with getting ready and why in the world did I always feel guilty for doing so?

To be honest, I’m just a mere student attending college, getting my degree to hopefully raise money to do things I’d hope to do in the future. My heart has many desires. Yet, I have never been on a mission trip and for some reason that shoves me harder into feeling that I am just a vain woman walking this earth: fellowshipping, blogging, painting, writing, and working. I have hopes of helping worn torn people in places like India, but what was I doing now?

And then I felt God’s gentle press on my soul. A good work is never rushed, he’d whisper. God shows me I’m following the narrow path in the smallest of ways.

I remember when I had just lost my grandmother and I was sitting in my painting class near the window, facing my old ballet slippers that I was trying to sketch to paint. I couldn’t do it, so I got up and went to the bathroom and tears began to ache within my eyes. I brushed up and walked back in and my heart melted at what I saw—my painting professor was sitting in my chair, my sketchpad bent over her lap as the pencil was moving about the page, going over my disfigured attempt. She was sketching it for me because she knew the sorrow I was going through. She even asked about it. During the end of my last fall semester, she was in her office as I swiftly walked by and saw her; I told her I’d be in the studio working on a project for my cousin’s baby shower that weekend. She started to talk to me and ended up saying how she and another professor were talking about my major and work. “We were saying how you’re our best art minor,” she smiled.

I’m not all that great with compliments except saying “aww” and “thank you” in at least three octaves higher than my natural voice—and then to quickly walk off. I don’t think she’ll ever know just how much she’s uplifted my life. She says I paint with a Renaissance style. So, who knows, maybe I really am a lady keeping it classy, while crazy for Christ.

So, in the smallest of ways and somehow even in the most personal of ways, God showed me and told me that he loved me, that he cared for me, that he was proud of me of who I was becoming. He often tells me through my loving family and caring instructors.

I don’t have to feel guilty or allow the world to make me feel awful for getting ready in the mornings; I’ll get ready, sip my vanilla cappuccino and thank God for his patience and grace within me as I embark on the journey of the new day.

I’m sure Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa would’ve enjoyed putting some eye-shadow in her brows, showing her pearly whites and treading the streets of the city. Would it have taken away from her natural disposition, flawlessness and beauty? Absolutely not—paint can’t do that. At the end of the day, when the make-up comes off and she nestles under her blanket, she is still Mona Lisa. I am still me when I wash my face, get my coffee and write under my woolly blanket.

I now think of me this way: I am a canvas.

God is painting me little by little, perfecting my faith season by season. God never rushes on me to work on someone else; He takes his time with each of us. I think when looking at a masterpiece, such as the Mona Lisa, you can talk about it – but there will always be the absence of words that speak the most.

Such as all of us in the end; when God lays down the brushes as he studies our faces and begins to speak. It won’t be what we have to say. It will be the canvas he pulls out from behind him—the one that is full of life, of sorrows, of perseverance, of stumbles, of hope, of strength, of integrity, of faith and of abounding love.

I am now a confident woman in Christ. I am a good woman. I can now call myself an artist. I can sign my name on the bottom of my paintings without feeling guilty for doing so; I have always believed it took away from the mysteries of a telling painting. But, I can do it now. Though I will always be a work in progress, I believe that in the end, when I step up to the canvas God painted of my life, I can tenderly press my fingers onto it and feel God’s fingerprints within the paint; feeling where he smoothed out the many rough seasons of my life with his determined, gentle and loving touch.

December 31, 2012 | Categories: Daily Life | 15 Comments »

On Modesty And Male Privilege

Editor’s Note: Today’s piece is less of a story and more of something I wanted desperately to share with our audience. Luke Harms was gracious enough to let us republish this, and I am grateful. Since the beginning of Good Women Project, I have received dozens upon dozens of women sharing with me their eating disorders, cutting, depression, struggling sex lives, and dropping out of church ministry or missions because they have been told that their body is a distraction and inhibition from God using them; that they are the reason the men around them fall into sin. Luke’s words are an important part of the conversation about men and women living freely in love. You can follow Luke at @LukeHarms and read his blog at livinginthetension.com – Lauren

Photo by Branden Harvey

My virtual friend Emily wrote a great piece for the “Church Leaders” website yesterday about the problems with modesty rules in Christian culture, and rightly pointed out how these rules unfairly shame women into particular behavior patterns, often resulting in lasting emotional and psychological damage.

It was an honest, personal story of one woman’s struggle with reconciling her freedom in Christ with the rigid behavioral codes often handed down to women from the pulpit or from Christian culture in general.

It was a great article.

And then there were the comments.

Sweet. Jumping. Jehoshaphat. The comments.

(The comments are the reason that I put “Church Leaders” in scare quotes in the opening sentence. Admit it, you went back and looked.)

I definitely suggest that you give the article a read, but I actually recommend you don’t read the comments. It got a little cray-cray in there for a minute or two, and it will probably just destroy your faith in humanity no matter which side of the argument that you’re on (though I’ll admit, there actually were some really bright spots of honest dialogue that I genuinely enjoyed). **But especially don’t read if you’re easily triggered by things like spiritual abuse or rape apologists.**

The basic premise that many of the commenters were defending was that women have a responsibility to dress modestly in order to keep men from sinning (by thinking lustful thoughts). Most commenters were pretty forceful in driving this point home.

But here’s the problem as I see it: If, as many of the commenters suggest, men (even or perhaps especially Christian men) are sexual predators who are incapable of looking at a woman who isn’t covered from head to toe without wanting to rape them (or at least mentally rape them), that is decidedly not a problem that women should feel *obligated* to or even *can* solve. Perhaps that bears repeating, and in simpler terms:

If men are skeezy pervs, that’s decidedly an issue for men to address.

Shifting the blame to women just passes the buck along and enables men to continue being skeezy pervs. “Oh, I’m getting all lusty because she’s wearing skinny jeans and a v-neck.”  No bro, you’re getting all lusty because you have a distorted view of women as objects that you need to get under control.

Now, before we get into the heresy-hunting here, I should say that yes, I believe that modesty is a quality that *all* Christians should strive for (and yes men, that includes you), but scriptural notions of modesty go far beyond the dress codes for women they’re often reduced to in Christendom.

But to me, what this discussion exposed was a deeper underlying problem. The fundamental question that wasn’t being addressed was why this notion of modesty, and the moral obligations being derived from it, was so lopsided.

Why were we making all of these proscriptions on the behavior on women, but essentially ignoring the behavior of men?

To me, the answer is as simple as it is disturbing. Call it what you want: misogyny, patriarchy, institutionalized sexism. I call it rape culture.

It’s the same culture that teaches freshmen college girls tips for not getting raped at orientation instead of teaching freshmen college boys NOT TO RAPE FRESHMEN COLLEGE GIRLS.

It’s the same culture that blames and shames victims of sexual assault into silence, instead of bringing the perpetrators to justice.

It’s the same culture that sees women’s bodies as objects to be controlled as means to men’s ends.

In the end, it’s about control. It’s about maintaining male privilege and perpetuating patriarchy. As these (mostly) men approached this issue of modesty, there was rarely a question of the man’s responsibility in this cycle, and when it was mentioned, it was an afterthought. “Oh, sure, men should be modest too, and they’re responsible for their own actions, but women shouldn’t cause them to stumble.” [heavy sigh]

Now I just met you, and this is crazy, but I think this might, *might* be one of those speck/plank scenarios that Jesus was talking about. Maybe instead of addressing the culturally ambiguous standard of “modest dress” for women, we should worry more about our attitudes towards the objectification of women. Maybe instead of trying to place the blame on women for our own shortcomings, we should do the hard work of re-wiring our brains, removing the influences that continue to perpetuate our distorted view of women. Maybe instead of writing off rape culture in the church as “living in a fallen world”, we should focus on what it means for us as men to partner with God in bringing the Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. (Pro tip: the Kingdom of God probably doesn’t include rape culture.)

To read Emily Maynard’s original piece on Modesty Rules, please click here.

December 7, 2012 | Categories: Daily Life | 67 Comments »

The Life I Discovered Inside Of 13 Days Without Social Media

Editor’s Note: I find it appropriate, after taking a month long sabbatical this September, to begin again with these words by Hannah Katy. They punched me in the face. September was beautiful for me. I rested much, learned much, and shifted pieces of my perspective back into place – and Hannah’s words here on taking a 2 week social media fast align with much of it. Hannah blogs at hannahkaty.com and tweets at @hannahbrencher. – Lauren

There had been a retweet.

Somewhere around 3am there had been a retweet. A few stray followers. Two emails to prove there were still night owls in my inbox. A single, solitary friend request. Half a dozen hearts on Instagram for a cup of coffee and fresh nails I’d painted yesterday.

Photo by Branden Harvey / / Photo by Lauren Dubinsky

This is what I’d normally find in the morning– sleep still in my eyes as the glow of the screen takes me network to network, collecting the communications I’d missed over night.

Stale. Two-dimensional. But sacred to me.

The fast began 13 days ago.

It’s been 13 long and hard tweet-less, like-less, instragram-less days.

A social media fast. The first of its kind for me.

Before this, I’d pent up fasting with the Bible definition and reserved it for pockets of days spent without calories. But to fast is to seek God with an obedience. To insert prayers unceasing where there would have been food or that object that causes you to hunger for more. Now I’m praying as constantly as I would have been checking my social networks. And though Peter and Paul never pulled off from the streams I think God would have found the same barrier in getting to them if they’d been tweeting while Jesus was preaching with swooping hands from atop the mount.

Conviction set in thirteen days ago. The start of the fast. As if Conviction had met Overwhelmed at the middle school dance and they chatted for hours by the punch bowl and decided they never wanted to leave one another.

I’ve chipped away at God’s power in my life with my social streams. It is my way of rebelling, of saying, “What you ask of me is too hard–I’ll turn to photos of faces I don’t see any longer to envelope me… distract me from the things you really want of me.”

“I’ll turn to 1,500 followers (maybe the mass grew heavier over night), I’ll post a photo at 10pm and be witty with 140 characters right before bed so that I can wake up “Like”d in the morning and with even more “friends” who won’t ask me hard questions. Won’t challenge me. Won’t mold me but will admire for all the fragments of a lens I’ve given them into a life where my hair is always perfect. And always, I am laughing. And always, I look skinny in sepia-stained lighting.”

My body – unrest. My thoughts – ungodly. My spirit – unfed. Me – in a steady, steady habit of checking my email before bed. 3am. 6am.

My day sculpted already by the responses I must give to people, the photo albums I’ve devoured, the outfits I’ve seen pinned and the people I must call.

Found and digested, all before God could even lift up His mighty hands and say, “Child, when shall I gear you for the work ahead? When will you realize the world will never feed you?”

It’s idolatry and I’ve never known it. To make myself a demigod. A person worth following. And if my streams, my Instagrammed actions, my blog holds no trace of the God who rains in my soul then who am I? Who am I and what kind of disciple have I been for you?

Thirteen days in and it’s coffee dripping on the stove beside me as I stretch and wait to add a packet of sugar. The longer it takes, the better before I find a spot, tuck my knees beneath me and eye the Bible in my lap.

I’m here God. It’s painful but I’m here. And this isn’t my day, it’s yours. You made it so plant in me what you need me to do for you today.

It is the hardest prayer I’ve had to pray. It’s gritty and gravelly and uncomfortable. And it has taken days of saying it to make me feel like it’s semi-habit to let God in and take over all the drivers’ seats before I let my soul be touched by hundreds of fingerprints across half a dozen social streams.

I’m listening more. I’m heeding more. I’m not picking up the phone–straight in the middle of the messages He has strung for me– to snap pictures of verses and send them wafting into the ether for others to cheer me on and like me and call me “holy.”

I’m using the Bible. In a way I’ve never had to before. To scour out and find my identity as a Child of Christ. To know, for certain, what I have in His Kingdom. To see me — without makeup, power and likes– the way He saw me yesterday… today… tomorrow.

Because suddenly, to find self worth in blog stats and comments is no longer an option.

Whatever I am carving out for worth is raw… coming from one mouth. And I find it whispers to me constantly, when my ears are finally perked to listen: You are my daughter. My gem. My rose. Find worth in that, Little One. Find Worth.

And I’m learning all the curves and craters and sacred spots of this life that God was paved for me. The sky as she preps like a night maid for the thunder, fluffing pillows of hushed greys with sheets of violent yellow. A heat storm and a new notebook. Bare feet. Wine and Oreos. Christmas lights glowing in the center of August.

All the parts of life and living – my first thought no longer to smash them all into a status update for others to virtually digest.

My first thought is to savor. Save the moment for me. Given. To me.

By one who loves me and is too jealous to share my attention.

September 30, 2012 | Categories: Daily Life | 17 Comments »

I’M DONE RUNNING.

Editor’s Note: Today, Lindsey Morgan Quam writes for us. She blogs at ezer-kenegdo.tumblr.com. Find grace again. Today and every day, for we never stop needing it. – Lauren

I’ve wrestled and fought to understand why my life has panned out as it has. I’ve tried to change it and I’ve tried to ignore it by drowning my sorrows away with a bottle of tears.

There is no cut and dry answer here. No solution to this math problem.

Over the past four years I have given up everything. EVERYTHING. Relationships, worldly possessions, dreams, hopes, fears, life, death.

I’ve always thought that if you gave up everything to God, He would return the favor and give you more than you’ve ever thought possible.

Well…here I am and I still have nothing.

Correction. I have nothing of what I expected to have at age-almost-26. Honestly, I’m not sure what I thought my life would look like – but I know it wasn’t this.

Here is the place that I have made my home. In a bed full of sorrows, fears, unanswered prayers, doubts, lost dreams and broken hearts.

Sounds pretty pitiful, right? I know. My friends and family have fought for me in prayer and love. They have not been afraid to point out my faults and tell me that I reek of sorrowful stench and regret.  I am so thankful.

Recently, after a very long run, I decided to nurse my wounds with a bottle of white wine and a hot bath. I spent the rest of the evening hugging the porcelain throne. The next morning I reeked of more than just sorrow. As I spent the next hour scrubbing every inch of my bathroom, I felt the love of God so tenderly kneeling beside me helping me scrub my bathroom clean.

At that very moment I came to the very real conclusion that my life will never look the way I thought it would when sixteen-year-old me made a dream board of how my future would pan out.

I am okay with this. More than okay.

Why? Because I would rather be where I am, here, single and completely enamored with the love of Christ. I’d rather be here than anywhere else. It doesn’t matter where I live or where I work; as long as I have this relationship with Him, than that is enough for me. In fact, sometimes it’s more than I can handle.

After all my running and stumbling and fighting I have now come to a posture of surrender. Complete and utter surrender to you. Do with my life whatever you will God and I will praise you in the midst of every circumstance no matter how lonely, or sleepless, or heartbreaking they may be.

I have given up everything, and He has given me everything that is of true value back in return.

Because He is worth it all.

June 13, 2012 | Categories: Daily Life | 81 Comments »

10 Tips To Prepare Women for “The Real World.”

Editor’s Note: HAPPY JUNE! I am so excited that we are sharing experiences about being a woman in the workplace this month. If you have a good story + advice, please submit here! Our first post is by Sarah Heinss. She blogs at Simply Sarah Writes, and this post was first published on her blog here! She tweets at @sarahheinss – Lauren

It has been one whole year since I graduated from college. This fact officially makes me…

One: An adult.
Two: A participant in “The Real World.”

This year has taught me a LOT. About careers, about guys, about life, and most importantly, about myself. So for all of my little dearies who just walked that stage, here’s what I’ve learned. Here’s what you need to know.

10 Tips to Prepare Women for “The Real World”

*Disclaimer: this is the advice, based on my experience, that I would give. But every situation is different.
**P.S. Every tip below is stuff I am still working on and reminding myself of every day.

1. Get a Job. Any Job.

No, I’m not insulting your intelligence. I know it isn’t easy. I also know we’ve been raised with a glamorized view of what our first job should look like. I don’t know about you, but I expected it to look something like working out of the Empire State building in a pants suit, ordering people around and directing Hollywood movies on the side. REALITY CHECK: I graduated from college, quickly realized that jobs, even with connections, and ESPECIALLY in New York are not easy to come by, so I waited tables for the first 7 months out. You know what they say, its easier to get a job when you have one. Just get a job and start making some money.

Photo by Well Traveled Woman

2. Aim for Your Dream

Just because you don’t have your dream job, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t aim for it. Make connections, talk to the people that are working your dream job and figure out what its going to take to get you there. Is it really what you want? Do you want it bad enough? And if necessary, start at the bottom. The fact is, it’s going to take hard work. If you are crazy passionate and work really hard, something great will come of it. For me, I started a Wedding Cinematography business and though it is crazy hard work. I LOVE IT. It’s a great thing to pursue a dream that feels alive.

3. Say No to Dates

The world of boys and girls outside of college is a different universe. Nothing could have prepared me for it. People don’t have a tendency to maintain casual friendships, or even good friendships with the opposite sex. It’s kinda like, “Hey, what’s your name? Cool, wanna go out to dinner?” Holy Smokes! Can a brotha get a minute? Maybe people are desperate. Maybe people are just more forward. The point is, if you don’t want to go or you’re not into him, say no. Plain and simple. You get to choose here. Enjoy that privilege.

4. Say Yes to Dates

Wait…but you just said…? Yes. Don’t be afraid to YES if you are mildly to severely interested. Especially if you’ve been burned in the past. Get over yourself, and try again. Yes, it does mean you run the risk of actually falling for someone again. I know, breathe. You’ll be ok. And if you’re not getting asked out, allow your friends to set you up on a blind date. Yeah, it’s awkward. But it also makes for great stories. Grow up. You’re young, single, out-of-college, and in need of a little male attention. Let’s be real, who doesn’t? So if you’re interested, say yes.

5. Take a Trip

Around February, I was so depressed that I decided I didn’t care what anyone thought. I had just interviewed for a good job, and knew that if I got it (which I did), I might not have time for frolicking about the country. So I bought a ticket, and by George, though everyone thought I was crazy, I headed to California for 2 weeks by myself. Was it the best trip of my life? No. Would I necessary recommend an exact replication of my trip? No. But did I have all kinds of crazy adventures? Yes. Do I have crazy stories? Yes. Ask me about them. I can say one thing for sure: I lived. You don’t have to put down 1,000 bucks to go on an incredibly memorable trip. And you sure don’t want to spend your whole life saying, if only I’d gone on a trip before I had kids.

6. Move Out Of Your Parents’ House

I repeat, move out of your parents’ house. I know I know, it’s just so cheap. You just can’t afford to move out. You just need it for a little while, which turns into 5 years. I understand living with your parents as your getting your feet wet and finding a job, but after you have the job, settle for a dump that is at least a place of your own. I would put a 6 month cap on the parents’ house thing. It’s not cause you don’t love them. It’s not cause you don’t need them. It is because for your emotional and psychological health, you need that independence.

7. Know How To Set Boundaries. Physical, Emotional, And Professional.

Set boundaries at work. This is what you are willing to do, this is what you are not. This is what you are willing to allow other men to say to you, this is what you are not. This is time for work. This is time for friends. This is time for yourself.

Also, don’t allow yourself to be talked down to. Learn the phrase, “Wait just one minute.”  This is a great opening phrase to show someone they crossed a boundary you set for yourself. Another great phrase: “I don’t want to be talked to like that.”  This is my new favorite phrases in customer service and yes, I use it regularly.

8. Know How To Be A Lady

I heard a quote this week that said, “If more women stood up for being Ladies, more men would stand up for being Gentlemen.” Or something like that. The saying goes the other way as well. Be classy, even if it doesn’t seem popular. Stand up for what you believe. Comments that turn you into an object should not be OK or tolerated. Speak up. You are strong, confident, beautiful, and by golly, YOU LOVE WHAT YOU LOVE. Some guys like to think that if only girls would like guns, war-movies, rock-climbing, and Family Guy, then they would be perfect. The thing is, if every girl loved all those things, we wouldn’t be girls. We would be men. And I promise, they don’t want that. The guys you want to be with will appreciate the things that make you a woman. You are worth waiting for.

9. Invest In At Least 3 Complete Outfits That Make You Feel Crazy Beautiful

Need I say more? It’s worth it. And you will need one of them the day after you ate a pan of cookies after work.

10. Know That You Are Worth It.

If you are not married, GOOD. In the South, we are constantly under a social expectation that when we graduate from college, then duh, the next step is to get married. If you did, great. I am genuinely happy for you. If you haven’t found him yet, FANTASTIC. You have been given an incredible opportunity to find things that make you YOU. Invest in girl friendships, watch chick-flicks whenever the heck you want, explore random hobbies cause you can. Craft, cook, run, write, travel, spend time with family, go on dates, develop crushes, buy a poster of Zac Efron, get your nails done, mentor younger girls. HAVE FUN and enjoy this time. All the while remembering, you are worth waiting for. I know I said this earlier, but it is the most important thing. You might even need to write that on your bathroom mirror. Remember the things that make you awesome and wait for a guy who notices those things too.

June 1, 2012 | Categories: Daily Life | 37 Comments »

Vulnerability, Love, & Hooking Up

Editor’s Note: Today’s beautiful post is written by Renee Roden. She is a theater and theology major at the University of Notre Dame. She blogs about college life and other things here.

I was outside my dorm having a classic Tuesday night meltdown. Wednesdays this past semester were always crammed full to the brim and overflowing with classes, meetings, and projects to finish. This particular Tuesday, it seemed as though the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I sat on the front steps of the dorm, in cold grey November drizzle, with my head in my hands.

I kept whispering over and over again: God. I can’t do this. God. I’m not strong enough. God.

Suddenly, I heard a voice:

“Are you okay?”

When I finally registered the voice was directed at me, I looked up abruptly, and standing there was a young man, with earbuds in one ear, wearing a puffy North Face jacket and basketball shorts. Classic Notre Dame attire.

I forced a smile and responded with an: “Oh yeah, I’m fine.” As soon as I said it, I knew how ridiculous I sounded. I was sitting on the front steps of my dorm crying in the rain. Of course I wasn’t “fine”.

When our vulnerable side starts to show, there is some bizarre reflex in human beings that automatically kicks in. We start to pretend as though we are in complete control. When it looks like there might be a chink or crack, we reinforce our protective armor. We build up our defenses, and completely forget that we are called to let ourselves be vulnerable.

He looked at me with kindness: “Okay. Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah, I’m good,” I responded casually, with a dismissive “it’s no big deal” wave of my hand.

He walked away, and I returned to sitting and staring into the misty rain. Then, I heard him turn around. He came back and approached me. “You look like you could use a hug,” he said, and then he wrapped his arms around me in a giant bear hug. I was so touched. So moved. “Thank you,” I smiled – a genuine smile. I was so completely overwhelmed by his kindness. How beautiful of him to reach out to someone he didn’t know, and comfort them when they were feeling down, even when they politely – and foolishly – rejected his help at first. “Whatever it is, I hope it gets better,” he smiled, and then jogged off into the rain. But that simple little interaction had completely turned around my night.

There’s a great fear of being vulnerable in our society, and rightly so. It is terrifying to be unarmored in this wide and sometimes perilous world. But if we lack the ability to open up and allow ourselves to acknowledge our weakness and our essentially broken human nature, then we close ourselves off from not only what it means to be human, but also what it means to love someone. A synonymous word with vulnerability may be “openness”. What the anonymous guy displayed in his actions was an openness to and an awareness of the people around him. This generosity of spirit and focus on others allowed him to respond with love to the people hurting around him. That anonymous guy is exactly the type of person I aspire to be. Someone who can bring a little bit of light into someone’s dark night.

A favorite quote of mine is one from C.S. Lewis’ book, The Four Loves: “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.” Although this may seem rather harsh, it is undeniably true. The only way to truly love and live is to open ourselves, which frees us, but also ushers into our lives the possibility of being rejected or hurt. And that’s scary.

As a college student, one of the ways I see my generation close themselves off to vulnerability and genuine love is the hook-up culture. A drunken make-out session is not going to call upon a person to share their heart with someone, to care about someone, or to open up to them. The people involved in a hook-up just share your body, while safely keeping your feelings locked deep inside. The morning after, each person continues on with their business as usual, callously attempting to pretend that nothing happened, and there is no emotional bond between them whatsoever.

The second half of the C.S. Lewis quote goes like this: “If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

Although vulnerability will often include pain, precluding vulnerability also leads to pain. And, unlike being vulnerable, turning in on yourself and shrouding yourself in protective armor cannot lead to happiness – only bitterness and more pain, which is exactly where I see so many of my friends and peers find themselves after trying to find love through hooking up. Instead, true love is found in listening to another person, and in turn opening up to them. Allowing yourself to share your heart with another broken human being. Opening up doesn’t mean burdening someone with your struggles and problems. But, rather, it means not hiding the incredible beauty of your soul.

During a discussion of theatre in class, my professor once said: the power of theatre to seduce is unbelievable. People onstage look beautiful and dazzling, and we find ourselves in love with them in spite of ourselves. Live theatre portrays human beings being very vulnerable indeed. Think of Shakespeare’s plays: imagine Juliet and Romeo risking their pride by confessing their love for each other after knowing each other only a few hours, think of Beatrice and Benedick, loving each other in spite of themselves, or Helena, chasing after her one true love, who has rejected her in a moment of madness. These women are beautiful, strong, and alive. They are completely and vulnerable, and generations of audiences have fallen in love with these women. Because they present themselves onstage, letting their radiance shine through in a way that only the truly vulnerable can.

Each of us is capable of that sort of dazzling beauty and stunning brilliance. But we can only achieve those heights if we allow ourselves the possibility of being hurt, if we allow ourselves to be vulnerable.

February 16, 2012 | Categories: Daily Life | 14 Comments »

What I Learned About Forgiveness, Death, & Life Without Parents

Editor’s Note: Today’s post was written by Laura Nicholson. She tweets at @lauranicholson. I am reminded that we are an amazing group of women who have seen SO much love, grace, and healing in our own lives. Laura, thank you for sharing your story. – Lauren

Forgiveness is powerful. I can remember back to my childhood where forgiving someone would be a simple “I’m sorry for hurting you”, but not actually understanding the real power of the words. This year, Jesus taught me how freeing it is to forgive someone.

My story begins eight years ago at the age of 12. I grew up as an only child in Canada, in a loving home with a wonderful mother and father. Things were not as perfect as they seemed, as my parents announced their divorce at the beginning of December in 2003. Confusion, hurt, and anger were just a few of the emotions inside of me. My parents decided to live in the same house even after announcing their divorce. They hoped to keep the family together for Christmas and then hoped to proceed with their divorce in the new year.

December 23rd was supposed to be the day where my family celebrated Christmas with my grandmother. Instead it was the day my dad killed my mom and then killed himself. As a police officer, my dad had access to a gun and brought it home and made the fateful decision. I was home at the time and firmly believe God was protecting me from my father and spared my life. I heard the gunshots and ran upstairs, only to find their bodies bloody and lifeless. Panic set in and I phoned 911. I ran outside to the snowy, cold morning and felt completely alone. Orphaned. Abandoned. Not worthy. Hurt.

I was sent to live in foster care for two months because no one in my family wanted me, except for my aunt and uncle, but I did not want to live with them because I knew they were Christians. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with God. My mom had told me Christians were crazy so there was no way I was going to live with them. My legal guardian who was supposed to take me did not want me. My other uncle said, “it won’t work out.” So off to foster care I went.

After two months of misery, I decided to go live with my aunt and uncle. It was then I was introduced to Jesus. Less than a month of living with them, Jesus transformed my life. I accepted Him at the age of 13 and have not looked back. God is my comforter, my Father, and my healer.

In the past eight years, I ignored my emotions. I was hurt my own family abandoned me and that my father left me, but I didn’t necessarily know what to do with these feelings.

This year, I prayed, thought about it, and spoke to several wise Christians about my emotions. Throughout this, I discovered anger has never been an emotion I have felt towards my dad, and I know that is a miracle from God. He has given me such a heart of compassion and forgiveness towards him. I picture my father as a child. So innocent. So hurt. Completely broken. I see how having Jesus in his life could have had a completely different outcome for his life, my mother’s life, and mine. If he had hope in Jesus, he could have seen the freedom he has in being a child of God.

I have learned what forgiveness is not this year. It is not accepting what happened to you is okay and acceptable. It is not ignoring what happened to you. Instead it is a powerful choice that brings so much freedom and takes the load you are carrying, and gives it to Jesus.

I have been wrestling with feelings of anger and abandonment towards my family that rejected me when I needed them most. I realized I can live with these feelings, or I can choose to do something about it. I believe only with the power of Jesus will they realize they did anything wrong. It can be hard for someone to apologize for something if they do not think they have wronged you. Forgiving them is for me. It willingly saying, “I forgive you. I do not accept what you did to me was okay, but I have forgiven you and will not hold it against you.”

God has shown us the perfect example of forgiveness. He forgives us no matter what our sin. He may be sad or disappointed in a decision we have made, yet he always forgives. He gave me this power with my dad miraculously, but I still struggle with my feelings toward my extended family.

Forgiveness is a long process. It is not instantaneous. It hurts to forgive. It is humbling to forgive someone who has done us wrong. But ultimately, it gives us a freedom we could never experience otherwise.

While I am technically an orphan, I have the best Father a girl could ask for. I have a Father who will never leave or hurt me. He loves me. He provides me with guidance. God has taken a horrible situation and has made it beautiful. He has taught me the ultimate lesson in forgiveness.

December 31, 2011 | Categories: Daily Life | 13 Comments »

What I Learned About Enlisting In War In 2011

Editor’s Note: Michelle Gutierrez recently quit her job in Arizona and traveled to Sydney, Australia to pursue what God has in store for her life outside of the office. She’s learning a lot about herself on this extended holiday and grown in a deeper understanding for the Lord and His faithfulness during the rough seasons. She loves social media marketing and has an obsession with green tea. You can find her tweeting about her travels and more from @gtea. – Lauren

Growing up around Christians, I became quickly distracted with religion. I became distracted with the image of Christians – what they wore, sang, and did with their spare time. I became distracted with the rules and the controls within a church, and lost sight of the reason Christians gathered together. So distracted that when Christians failed me, I thought God did as well.

But God never fails. He’s the victor of a battle that goes on against evil (Ephesians 6:12).

It wasn’t until this year that I fully realized my role in this spiritual battle. That I am called to be a a soldier, placing the full armor of God on every day (Ephesians 6:13). And some days I forget to. Some days I still get distracted with guys, shopping, beauty, gossip, and money. In fact most days I get distracted, but God never does. He is faithful, even when we are faithless (2 Timothy 2:13).

This was one of those nights when I realized my sorrow in forgetting that I am a good soldier of Christ Jesus.

Father, I want all these things, but it would break my heart if I want them to replace you. Father God, I don’t want to fall out of love with You. That’s the truth. Father God, I would be lost without you. You have healed my brokenness in more ways than I could have ever imagined. You have stuck by my side closer than any other friend or boyfriend I have had. You are always there to listen. You are always able to meet my needs. You are always able to give perfect wisdom. You have the perfect plan. You are loving and caring no matter what. You are glorious and large-and-in-charge, manly and amazing. Father God, I don’t want to fall out of love with you. You have dried my tears with your Words when I was weeping in bed alone. You told me that I was beautiful even when I hurt my body, gained weight, or shoved a ton of food into my mouth.

Father God, You said that You didn’t care if I didn’t feel like I wasn’t enough. You told me You are enough. You told me Your Son died for me. You told me that You love me and will never let go. You told me that You are going to support me, hold my hand, and take care of me. You told me that I don’t have to be perfect. You are.

Father God, writing that pains me to think of the ways that I have wronged You and sinned against You. Writing that makes me tear up in thinking how much I broke Your heart every time that I committed adultery against You. Every time that I cheated on You, Your heart hurt.

Father, draw me into Your heart. Draw me into who You are and how to be obedient to You. Father I have read Your Word, and I don’t want You to just exist on paper. I want You to be living in me and doing miracles through me and dripping off my tongue in the conversations that I have with people.

I want You to hold my hand and lead me back to the cross, where the greatest love story was ever told. Where You died. You died, and then lead me to the grave where You rose. You rose for me. You defeated death for me. You told the Devil: No! Hands off, this one is mine. This woman I adore and will do anything for. This woman, Michelle, is the most amazing creation. She is special and I love her, and I will always love her. You cannot have her. Devil back off! She is beautiful isn’t she? And I will treat her like she is. Your lies are terrible, and you have tainted and hurt her. No more. No more. My Son defeated you by dying and rising again. And now she will fight you as well. Take that!

Father, when I am distracted will You remind me of that? When I think that anything on this earth is more than enough. Remind me that nope, Your love story is enough. You have captured my heart before anything else. You are the alpha, omega, beginning and end. Lead me to Your heart, that I may love other people just as you love them Father. It doesn’t matter what other people think. It just doesn’t matter if they think that I am crazy. I want to love people well. Would You give me a mind that can soak up the Word like a sponge? Would You give me a mind that continues to fight for this love?

I love you Father, and I don’t want anything else. Your love is satisfying and continues for eternity. Your love changes me and changes other people. Your love makes us do crazy things. Unbelievable and miraculous things. Things that only love made complete here on earth can do. Your kingdom – show glimpses of what Your kingdom will be like to the unbelievers that I am around. Make your name know through me, Father.

I have found myself in You. Keep my eyes from being distracted by the places and the things that I see. Keep my ears from hearing the lies in music, people, or places. Keep me hearing and seeing You, even in the darkness.

December 30, 2011 | Categories: Daily Life | 13 Comments »

10 Things I Learned About Burnout & Missing Out

Editor’s Note: I’m a chronic “yeah I can do that!” girl. Saying ‘no’ is not in my natural vocabulary, and I can vouch for Kera. I too, used to look down on people who played the “I don’t want to get burned out” card. But burnout is real, even when you’re young. I’d argue particularly when you’re young. Taking care of yourself is more important than not letting people down. Today’s post is written by Kera, who blogs at www.kerapackage.com and tweets at @kera_package. – Lauren

“You know they say it’s better to burn out than rust out, but either way you’re out.”

When this adage is shared, I usually scoff at the hypocrisy or ignorance of the statement. “You are telling me about time management? Mr. Over-Commitment himself is suddenly an expert on this topic.” Or I think, “Really? You always play it safe; you rusted out before you even started.”

It’s easy to mock others for fearing burnout when you feel like you are invincible. “I’m different than them. I’m young. I’m innovative. I’m resilient.”

But the tide turns when you realize that you are only twenty-two and you’ve already had a complete burnout. Twice. In one year.

My career as a missionary officially started in August 2010. I was getting paid to share God’s love with college students. Life couldn’t get much better.

By May 2011, I found myself completely burnt-out. I became rather indifferent towards my job. I wanted nothing to do with my friends. I struggled to spend time with God. My body was rebelling against me in a constant stream of illness. I was battling insomnia, forgetting to eat, and hadn’t consciously exercised in months. Some days, I found myself too worn out to even leave my apartment. I had no energy to do any of the things that I loved and no motivation to change my circumstances.

Thankfully, summer brings a welcomed change of pace in campus ministry. The break began with a confrontation with my roommate. She was concerned that I was falling apart and frustrated that our ministry was suffering because I wasn’t fully present. I knew she was right, but I didn’t want to hear it.

Fast forward through three weeks of me attempting to pull things together. At the end of May, I boarded a plane and headed to Spain for the summer. There I worked with an awesome team of missionaries focused on prayer and street outreach. My teammates confronted my over-commitment issues, forced me to learn to rest, and taught me how to live life with a healthy rhythm of work, play, and prayer.

When I arrived back on campus in early August, everything I learned about rhythm was quickly forgotten in the busyness of a new semester. Long days, sleepless nights, forgotten devotionals, and the resurfacing of all my bad habits. By early October, my boss noticed an onset of fatigue again and confronted me because I was seemingly withdrawn. Later the same week, I found myself spending the night in the emergency room because the combination of a virus, anxiety, dehydration, and exhaustion had left my body completely wrecked.

The last three months have been a slow recovery, but in the meantime, I’ve missed out on a lot of opportunities. By time my body forced me to reevaluate my schedule, I had to put myself on the bench for much of the game just to ensure that I could continue to be a part of the team in the future.

Burnout isn’t just a word that older folk use to scare and contain the younger generation – as I had previously thought. It’s a psychological term used to describe exhaustion and diminished interested.

Here are a few facts, verifiable by good ‘ole Wikipedia and more reputable sources:

• Surveys show that about one third of young adults struggle with burnout.
• The most committed, enthusiastic employees are the most likely to burn out.
• Burnout is a vicious cycle rooted in the compulsion to prove oneself.

For much of 2011, I tried to prove to myself and to others that I was making a difference. I worked harder, took on too much, and was fueled by a competitive desire to succeed. In doing so, I wrongfully attempted to take control of things in my life and simultaneously quenched God’s ability to work through my life.

As the new year rolls around and I prepare for another semester, I know that something needs to change. This time I’ve learned my lesson. Restoring a rhythm of work, play, and prayer is nonnegotiable.

I’m either an expert on this topic or a hypocrite for attempting to discuss it. Either way, I won’t try to prove myself to you. I’ll simply share some things that I know I need to keep in mind in this new year.

1. Get the rhythm right. It’s actually prayer, play, and work. – Did you notice I inverted the order? Priorities make all the difference.
2. Put God first and foremost in everything. – If I continually invited Him into every aspect of my life, I would have no reason to stress.
3. Allow God to defend you. – God is my defender. I don’t need to justify myself to anyone. He’ll do it for me or kindly correct me depending on the circumstances.
4. People who believe they can sleep when they’re dead never really get to fully experience life. – Sleep is so important. I can function on four hours of sleep, but what’s permissible isn’t always beneficial.
5. Rest is a form of worship. – Over the summer, I had to retrain myself to enjoy free time. I’ve never been so thankful for opportunities to exercise, appreciate nature, play my guitar, write, hang out with friends, read, and just explore the awesomeness of the world. Rest is about trusting God enough to take the time to appreciate His blessings.
6. Turn off the technology. – Let’s be honest, I don’t need my Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and three email accounts pushed to my iPhone every five minutes. I tend to idolize technology as in I spend more time with it than I do with God and with people God has placed in my life.
7. It’s okay to say ‘no’. – There is freedom in admitting that you can’t do everything.
8. Be honest with yourself and your friends. – To guard against burnout, I’m inviting more accountability into my life.
9. When you miss out, others are missing out too. – God placed me in my circle of influence to leave an impact. When I’m not fully present, I’m robbing people of what God wants to do in their lives through me.
10. God is God. I am not. – If I remembered who God is and who I am in Him, I would be less likely to work myself to the point of burnout. He is in control, and as long as I follow Him, I’ll be okay.

In 2011, I tried really hard to be the best person I could be in my position. Obviously, I failed. I attempted to succeed through my own strength, and it quickly ran out.

I’m sharing this experience rather light-heartedly because I am truly grateful for the lessons I’ve learned this year. It’s much better to burn out in year one than to face the possibility of a vicious cycle of fatigue in the future.

Overall, I’ve learned that I’m simply supposed to love God, to love people, and to laugh whenever possible. This year, I’m going to just focus on following Jesus and my guess is that His strength will get me much farther than my own.

December 29, 2011 | Categories: Daily Life | 29 Comments »