Home safe.

Today was the first time I ever did anything remotely religious on a date. After walking aimlessly for hours in the woods (I just kept choosing the path that went the most "up"), we ended up at the cross on top of the mountain. Even though he's not a believer, I easily talked him into going up there, and while we were up there, he got a small taste of what I've been dealing with as one of two city workers who passed us made disrespectful comments in my general direction. In a way, I think the experience gave him more respect for the religion in my life.

Regardless, my pictures turned out pretty awesome, I think.







God is in the most infinitely amazing way. :)

Lamentation.

Lamentations, Chapter 3:
19 Remember my affliction and roaming,
The wormwood and the gall.

20 My soul still remembers
And sinks within me.

21 This I recall to my mind,
Therefore I have hope.

Verses 20 and 21 are my favorite Bible passage so far.

On a day when I'm thrust into a world of attempted suicide, layoffs, terminal illness, and complete and utter disloyalty along with broken memories (all within the same day- today), I love that passage even more. To be reminded of what we have overcome is to have hope for the future. No individual event we might face in the future could ever be as bad as the culmination of horrible events in our past, if we have overcome a past which is adverse.

22 Through the LORD's mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.

I hope that's true.

Really.

Sex or something like it.

I suppose I should warn that I'm an open book and this post might get a little explicit? Just so you know. *shrug*

Since dating the Christian guy, my views on sex have changed significantly. I was raised in an environment and society where abstinence wasn't even on the radar. It just wasn't an option. We'd hear about it in a sort of condescending way in the media sometimes, like when the pope with try to push it or when a Republican president tried to push our neighbors to the south to abstain instead of handing out condoms in schools. We'd all laugh at the idea and see it as old school and ridiculous.

"Times have changed. Get with it."

When I was in high school, they changed the laws such that at fourteen, girls could get free abortions without their parents finding out. And recently, they changed the laws so that pharmacists could distribute the morning after pill, so girls could get it without ever seeing a doctor.

At ten, my nearly-always absent mom told me to go on the pill, "just in case". Of course, I didn't because I had no idea what she was talking about.

By fifteen, I was well aware of all things relating to sex, even if, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I wasn't actually having sex. I have no idea why not. My dad traveled a ton for work, leaving my brothers and I home alone most of the time. We'd have parties that lasted days. I was constantly surrounded by a ton of boys and I probably wasn't sober very often either. And at that time, I certainly didn't have any sort of religious affiliations to even consider either.

I was fine with being single all through high school. I had absolutely no issue with it, probably because I felt entirely unlovable, but that's a different story for a different day. :D

At nineteen, I met a boy who I thought cared about me a great deal. He was passionate and seemed to be spiritual, but not religious, and he strongly encouraged me to travel and things. He helped me get over my fears around it, and as a result, I went to live in Ireland for a while. While I was there, he wrote me letters every week. When I got back, he was leaving for the summer and was throwing a party. I won't get into all of the details, but this guy I considered a great friend and trusted as much as my person at the time could trust assaulted me in a terrible way. I managed to get away though, but still, that event changed a lot of my perception of myself and of sex.

After a brief recovery, I developed the mindset that I was worthless. If one of my best friends could throw me away just to get sex out of me, then maybe that's all I was good for. Maybe that was the only value my person had in this world.

So I gave it up. I lost my virginity on a one night stand and it started a trend in my life. Sex was meaningless except for the perceived power it brought me. Somehow, I ended up in a long term relationship, the details I won't get into right now either, :D, but that kind of put me on hold for six years, which in spite of the relationship being fairly abusive, was probably a good thing.

I got out of the relationship and met the Christian guy. In the beginning, he judged me pretty harshly for sleeping with people I didn't care about, even though he'd slept with the same number of people as I had and hadn't been in a long term relationship either.

Being with him taught me a lot about what sex meant, even if coming from him, the words were awesomely hypocritical. When I slept with him, I already loved him. I wanted to marry him. I wanted to spend my life with him. For the first time in my entire life, the sex meant something to me. While he was teaching me that I had value, that the intimacy of sex was something not to be thrown around, I was living it all in a way I never even knew existed. I really did give up my soul. I loved him with all of my being.

It turned out that he didn't love me and was just using me, and while his words meant the world to me and changed me, they were just words that he'd learned growing up in the south, without ever understanding the meaning of them.

And that's where I am now. I'm free to live whichever sexual life I choose. But which do I choose?

Having experienced it both ways- the meaningless kind and the "one flesh" kind- obviously I prefer the more profound and meaningful of the two. But I've also grown cynical towards it. How can a girl be sure? How can a girl be intimate in a godly way if there is a possibility that the other person might be dragging her along, unknowingly headed for the betrayal to end all betrayals? It's far easier to have the meaningless kind and put all emotion and God things aside. There's no immediate, tangible risk to the soul that way.

Obviously, what God wants for me is to redeem my past and for me to marry a godly man. But after all I've been through, being used and abused and assaulted, how do I convince myself I'm entitled to that? I just can't. I don't see myself as worthy of such devotion and loyalty. I'm not good enough for that. I can't fathom abstaining from sex because I'm waiting for some Prince Charming on a white horse to suddenly appear and love and cherish me the way God intended. I'm far, far too cynical for that.

On the other hand, I am worthy to God. I'm a child of God. God loves me and loves my body and my soul just the way I am. And I have to protect this body He created for me. I've been battered and bruised and scarred and sick and broken, but I'm still ok. God made sure of it. And the least I can do is appreciate it. The least I can do is stop throwing my body around and letting completely unworthy men use me. That's the least I can do. I can acknowledge my value in the eyes of God. I am more valuable than meaningless sex. My person deserves a better kind of love than that.

And so, for now, the sexual life I choose is a non-issue. I'm going to appreciate the freedom, the redemption and the love that God is giving me. I'm going to learn the value that is within me and love my body the way it should be loved. I'm going to grow with God and learn to never let myself be used and abused again.

And if, one day, He chooses to send a godly man my way, I'll be far more prepared.

I can't say 'Jesus' anymore.

I can't do it alone. I've been learning and reading and listening for months now, and everywhere I turn, I'm faced with conflict. Everything I say is religious even when it has nothing to do with religion. I've been categorized by the people closest to me, and every word is taken as a statement of religion. And honestly, my faith is not strong enough to stay standing after all the pushing.

I said it myself, every word and every action from a Christian is a mission statement. It's a statement as a missionary. But I don't think even I understood the implications of that. Every single word out of my mouth (or out of my fingers in the case of IMs and blog posts) is taken with a religious undertone that I don't even put there.

I'm a communicator. That's an overly long word to say I'm chatty. I am. Very. But to feel stifled simply because I opened a book a year ago is wearing me out.

Somebody told me today that they would never date anybody religious. So I started talking to a different friend about it and I said, "I wouldn't date a religious person either. But I do want a godly man." That's when the misunderstandings started.

My intention:
godly: supremely good

Simple as that. Can you be a godly man without believing in God? For sure. You can have a great heart without feeling the love of God. Believing in God is not a prerequisite for being a good person, just as people of "faith" might not be good people.

Religion aside for a half a second, I want a guy with a good heart. I want a guy who is generous with his mind, body and spirit. I want a guy who is supremely good. I want a guy so good that I can admire him and strive to be his equal in that aspect. God has nothing to do with that part of what I'm seeking, except He does...

The only way to misunderstand "godly" is to not know who God is. Saying I want a man "like God", or saying I want a man who is "supremely good" should be interchangeable. But they aren't.

Why not?

Because some people hate God. Because some people dissociate God from good. And really, religious or not, that should not happen. Ever. When I use the word "godly", it should not provoke a negative reaction.

But it does.

Would I have used the word "godly" before learning about Christianity? Never. I didn't know what it meant back then. Now, it fits perfectly. A godly man has his priorities straight. In his list of priorities, the only self that ends up there is his spiritual self. The only self he puts first is that which makes him a whole person, a better person and a person who works hard to spread the love, forgiveness and generosity that has been bestowed upon him, either by God or by fortune or whatever else he attributes it to. A godly man is about reciprocation rather than selfishness. A godly man is honorable and has only the purest of intentions. A godly man is outside himself, his constant needs, desires and personal achievements.

A godly man is like* God.

If God is everything good, and a non-believer is supremely good, then whether he believes it or not, God is working within him. The good is spreading through this person, even if they don't believe the source might be God. Therefore, a godly man does not, in my opinion, have to be a believer.

So many sermons I've listened to have mentioned the fact that Christians should not marry non-believers. When I was a non-believer dating a Christian, I challenged that belief fervently. I was so offended by it because nobody in the history of this man ever challenged him to believe more than I did. He had to teach me and in watching me grow through my passion for learning about it, he was challenged by his own lack of faith. Through my inexperience, I helped him be a better Christian.

But now that I'm on the other side, would I date a non-Christian?

It's a hard question. I would like to give non-Christians the same opportunity I wanted, but the problem is, they keep shutting me down. They keep telling me not to talk about religion in any way. And as a chatty person who overanalyzes everything, I just can't do that. I need to talk about it. I need to be able to have the communication pathways open for whatever subject I want to discuss, even if it's loaded or hard or depressing or unpleasant. I need to be able to speak my mind in an environment that's tolerant.

When I started dating the Christian, I was closed-minded to religion. Completely. But I still wanted to learn what he saw in it, even if I had no intention of adopting any of it. It was such a fundamental part of his past and his person that to not touch the subject was to not know him. I was open to knowing him.

That's what makes getting shut down so frustrating. They're not open to knowing me. So why bother? Why bother learn about my past, learn about my habits and likes and dislikes? Why bother diving into my person when you don't want to get to the core? Why bother pursue me when you have no respect for what's important to me?

I suppose that having a problem with religion is fine. But this is me. This is my perception of religion. If you don't like or rather don't tolerate or even allow me to express my perception of the basic principles of living, how can you even see a potential for being with me?

Can a person put aside their faith, keep it private and introverted in order to maintain a pleasant interfaith relationship? For sure. But then they were never truly Christian to begin with. They have no passion for it. They have no love of it. They aren't moved and changed by it every single day.

If you're passionate about mountains, chances are one day you'll bring your significant other to the mountains just to experience it with them. To feel their love and your passion for them merge with the emotions elicited by the awesomeness of the mountains is really amazing. Substitute mountains for anything a person might be very passionate about and nobody can deny there's power there. There's life there.

So why would a person passionate about God, passionate about Jesus, passionate about love and forgiveness and community and all the rest that is involved with being a passionate and learning Christian put it aside?

Why should they have to? Because it makes people uncomfortable?

I won't stop talking about God just because you have issues with religion and the Bible. I won't. I won't force you to believe what I believe- never. But when I talk about God, I do expect you to reciprocate. I do expect you to not only share your beliefs openly, but also challenge my beliefs with knowledge, wisdom and courage [as I will yours if you are comfortable enough in them]. Above all else, if we do talk about God and our individual beliefs, I do expect you to be open enough to listen. Because this is me. This is important to me. This is my passion at the moment, and who knows how long this moment will last, but in the meantime, it really is important to me.

And really, when the only challenges I face are questioned intentions and motives, it breaks my spirit. You know who I am. Why is it when it comes to religion, you suddenly assume I'm somebody else? You know my intentions as your friend. Why would I turn on you over a word? Why would you assume I lack that significant respect? It breaks my spirit. Your defense mechanisms about religion stab me in the heart and you don't even realize.

I'm just me. I'm always me. Whether I'm talking about animal welfare, biology, cars, the weather or religion, I'm always me. And if you question my intentions about any of it, you probably don't know me as well as you think you do, and you're probably not open to changing your mind.

See? I know. I said, "changing your mind" and some of you reading it who question my intentions probably jumped to the conclusion that I meant, "[eventually] changing your mind about religion". I meant me. And really, if you did read this and did jump to that conclusion, I hope it was a wake up call of sorts as to how easily provoked your defenses are.

Anyway, all that to say, the jabs at my soul take the fight out of me. It's all fine and good trying to write and speak about what I'm learning in hopes that other people might learn or just be challenged to share their perception, but sometimes, a girl needs a little spiritual guidance too. Sometimes a girl needs a little bit of a faith pick-me-up, you know?

A bandaid for the broken spirit.

Because I just can't keep fighting the constant confrontation alone on ground that's so shaky to begin with.


* "like" being used as "closer to God's ways than most" rather than directly comparing the man with God because no matter how good he is, he can't come close.

Hateful Christians?

(In an ideal world, that'd be an oxymoron.)

What do we call ourselves?

We humans so like categories. We're so afraid of uncertainty that we strive for any sort of label both for ourselves and for those around us such that we all might be in neat and tidy little boxes where predictability reigns and cynicism overwhelms discreetly.

As I've blogged before, the minute I cracked open the Bible, my coworkers and friends labeled me. Suddenly, I was a gay hating, abortion clinic protesting, irrational person. It's far easier to categorize me that way than to wonder if maybe this girl who overanalyzes and overthinks to death might have fallen in love with it for a rational, reasonable reason.

If atheism and agnosticism are based on science and reason, how is it possible for an agnostic biologist to read the Bible and its outrageous stories and not only enjoy it as a potential work of fiction, but pursue it as a strong possibility of truth?

And with all of the Christians we know being so broken and hypocritical, how could she seek the truth in theirs, of all people?

So I was talking to one of my very, very few Christian friends, a guy I've known for at least ten years, but also haven't seen in probably just as long, and the subject hit Christianity. "Are you a Christian?" I asked. I know he is, but I meant, "Do you tell people openly that you're a Christian?"

He is strongest in his faith of all the people I know personally. He lives it. He's been all over the world, ministering and spreading the Gospel. And his soul is just amazing. He is lovable in the most intense and pure way. He is by far the most Christian in the real sense of the word and the true meaning behind it. He's a beautiful, generous and soft soul.

And he hesitated.

We talked about it, and how his calling as a youth pastor in New York scared him a little, simply because of the category he was getting boxed into. "I'm going into ministry- I couldn't believe it," he said and repeated, "I'm a pastor," in a sort of shy disbelief.

I'm not an open Christian. Not at all. I hide it. "I'm a Christian" has such a terrible stigma attached to it. I don't want to be one of those... But as my friend and I kept talking, we both realized that in not saying we were Christians, in not being openly Christian and not attributing our goodness to Jesus, we're not helping change the tarnished view of what it means to be Christian.

But what if we blow it? What if we proclaim to be Christian and totally mess up? What if we contribute to the bad image society has of Christianity? Or what if we just don't give enough of ourselves?

Then, I guess, if we're humble, we can point out that we're flawed but also show the world around us what it is to repent, and show them the power of God's grace, and our continual growth in Christ, towards Christ.

I heard a sermon today about how we should be generous beyond our level of comfort because even at that extent, it's the bare minimum to worship God in a meaningful and powerful way considering the gifts we've been given, and I have to say that the whole concept is pretty terrifying. My biggest flaw (for today anyway :D) is that I'm lazy. The thought of giving my spare money is easy, even if it makes my life tougher on a daily basis, but the thought of devoting my time and energy is harder for me. If I'm needed, I'll serve wherever I'm needed with all of my capacity, but to actively seek out a need to fulfill is another story.

My laziness makes it hard for me to feel as though I come even remotely close to my potential as a Christian and as an example of a good Christian to others around me. On any other day, you could easily substitute "laziness" with something else... Anything else- judgment, cynicism, anger, spite- just general brokenness, really. All of my flaws make me a terrible example of what it means to be a Christian.

But I do try. I try to get better every day. I try to change my attitude and make choices in the moment that reflect Jesus more clearly and more obviously. I try to substitute love and support where my judgment, anger, spite and cynicism tend to be. I try to grow in generosity. I try to forgive. I try to change for the better, let go of the things I idolize and the things I spend my time on that don't make a difference and don't impact the kingdom of God in a great way. I try to learn, and absorb as much as I can. But all that while maintaining my freedom from religion and religiosity. I do it because I love it and (as hard as it is for me to openly say,) because I love Jesus. I do it to become a more loving person so that people can experience it too.

I try.

I guess that's what I believe ultimately sets me apart from the nominal Christians who taint the word: I don't rest on my Christianity. I try. I really hope I never let go of that, but honestly, I doubt I will because I'm not sure I'll ever feel like I have it down. I doubt I will ever feel entitled or even worthy. And I know for sure I'll never have it all figured out.

But what's the point? Why bother trying to be an example of what it is to follow Jesus?

Ever since I started learning about Christianity, I realized that every word and every action from a Christian is a mission. Even the simplest of discussions are ministry. That's not to say we should only talk about Jesusy things, but that when our behavior goes against Jesus' teachings, we're unintentionally turning people away from Jesus. When we inadvertently mock God and Jesus and the Bible, without realizing, we're driving people further away from Jesus. We're appealing to their doubts. We're validating their fears and stereotypes of religion and of Christians. We're affecting their personal relationship with God in a negative way.

That's why we have to strive to be an example of a follower of Jesus in everything we do. We have to show people, believers and non, the Gospel. We have to lift Jesus up so He can be known, and it's not through preaching or Bible thumping but through small every day acts of kindness, support and love. Basically, we'll only successfully show people what Jesus is all about through following Jesus every day.

Nobody who has learned about Jesus can possibly say He was a bad guy. But what if we took that idea a step further and showed how He can drastically change our lives? What if we let Jesus change our heart and guide us in such a way that our lives completely reflect Him? What kind of world would we live in?

And if all the Christians did that, if they all were true followers of Jesus in every possible sense, would you hesitate to declare yourself among them?

Believing in God is the easy way out.

I don't know how many times I said that in my life. So many. When I was battered and bruised emotionally and sometimes physically, I'd resent Christians for having a supportive, loving God with a plan to lean on to get them through everything. It was easier to believe in God because all of your questions are answered and there's no uncertainty.

But then why didn't I believe?

It was hard for me to believe. I'm not sure I've ever worked on anything so hard in all of my life.

When you study something, not only do you learn the material, but you also learn a method of studying for that particular realm of information. In CEGEP ("collège d'études générales et professionels"-- school between high school and university here), I did natural sciences and my best friend did social sciences. She was a year or two ahead of me and in my second year, she switched over to science and had the hardest time at it. She'd been trained to learn social science, which is a study of the big picture, and switching to science meant learning to grasp the tiny details instead. She had to relearn how to learn.

I've been scientific my whole life. If life was a university, I'd have gotten a major in science and a minor in fiddling with mechanical things. Religion is an entirely different realm of learning. It's a big picture thing, a tiny details thing, a literary thing and a metaphysical thing... among many, many other things. To learn religion successfully requires a strong emotional component to the learning process, and when you're repressing anger towards religion, that emotional "ability" is completely shut down. It becomes next to impossible to let religion in, to learn it without prejudice and resentment. It basically becomes impossible to fall in love with God.

And really, if it becomes impossible to fall in love with God, believing in God suddenly seems like the hardest thing to do. Without looking at those around you, just focusing on your own beliefs, values, and experiences, if you don't believe already, would it be easy for you to believe in God? And if you do, would it be easy for you to let go of your beliefs?

Neither is easy.

I'm still in between. I know what it's like to feel as though religion is easy, but I've also learned that in a lot of ways, being agnostic was way easier than believing. Being agnostic gives you far more control over your beliefs and your life, and it also is far less ridiculous than believing in God.

As an agnostic, I didn't know what would happen if I died, where my soul would go, if anywhere, and I was ok with that. I have never been afraid of death, and the few Christians I knew found that bizarre since my afterlife was void of any certainty. I always found it way more scary to face the uncertainty of all the potential living years ahead of me than to face death and the possibility of it all being completely over. I was just ok with not knowing the answers to the huge life questions.

On the other hand, as a Christian, I don't have any control over all of that. It may not seem like a control thing, but it is. If there is a God and a heaven and a hell, then those are the only options. It's kind of like being a chef versus being served. When you're the chef, you have the opportunity to feed and eat any possible food in the world. You decide what the food will be. When you're served, you eat whatever you're given. Sure, you can turn down the sweet potato, but you're still only limited to whatever else is on the table. And for a picky person or a person plagued with food intolerances or IBS, that can become quite a stressful situation. It's a control thing. You control the menu or you don't.

If I choose to be a Christian, I'm choosing to sit at the table with God and Jesus and eat what they choose to feed me. And while the perspective mentioned above in the food analogy can be stressful and restrictive, and the perspective of religion the same, it really isn't. I'm restricted to what God and Jesus provide, but most of the time, the restrictions are freeing rather than oppressive.

I say, "most of the time" because I do remember the freedom from responsibility I had as an agnostic. Sure, I was as nice a person as I could be. I tried to be supportive of those around me, tried to help people who needed help, tried my best to be a good person and to possibly leave a legacy that was positive in the world. But I wasn't accountable for it. I did it because I was empathetic and it was the right thing to do by whatever standards I'd set for myself. Being a Christian has different standards and goals. Still, they are not set in stone- there is no set doctrine to follow to be a good person, even if religion says otherwise. But there's an accountability partner there that was not there when I was an agnostic. There is a God who loves me.

You know how it is, right? You meet somebody amazing and fall in love with them, and nothing you do for them seems like work and nothing seems like it's enough. You'd go to the ends of the world to get them whatever they needed simply because you love them with all your soul and your being.

Now imagine that this person not only is beautiful, kind, loving and lights up your soul, but they also gave you life, breathed air into your spirit and provided you with everything you needed to survive. What kind of love would you return?

That's where the accountability comes in. It's not a punishment kind of accountability but a sacrificial love. God gave me life, gave me the strength to make it to this point in my life and gave me everything I needed- even if I spent most of my life till now rejecting Him. How am I going to acknowledge the significance of that today?

If every person (and I believe every creature as well) is a child of God, a brother or sister in Christ, then how will I acknowledge God in them today? Every person we treat badly throughout our lives is a child of God. As God has provided for me, He has provided for everybody else too. He loves every one of them equally and particularly. They each have value, and technically, equal value.

How easy is it to acknowledge that all of us have equal value?

I'm as judgmental as it gets. I know it's not easy to see other people as my equals. They're either better than me or worse than me, but very few people are my equals. But in rating them, judging them, I'm failing to see them as God's loves and as important to God's plan as I am or as anybody else is. And by slipping myself in there too somewhere near the middle, I'm basically telling God He didn't make me as perfect as others. I'm telling Him that He failed in some aspects of my being.

We all have different skill sets and abilities. There's no doubt about that. But what if our package of abilities and skills is exactly what God needs for His plan?

What if me being terrible at physics is part of what makes me perfect? Being terrible at physics led me into a different direction in school. The first program I had applied to in university was mechanical engineering. Had I been great at physics, I wouldn't have hesitated. But I knew I would not succeed. I knew physics was my Achilles heel, and going into a program based on it when the foundation I was starting from was so shaky was setting myself up for a massive failure, so my life path changed. In God's plan, maybe my lack of physics comprehension curves my puzzle piece in such a way that it fits perfectly. Maybe.

Or maybe I took the easy way out and I'm totally on the wrong path... :D

Only God knows...

Speaking of which, I was listening to a sermon from Mars Hill Church where Pastor Mark Driscoll talked about anxiety being a sin and that instead of treating it as a psychological thing, maybe we should treat it with repentance. In spite of growing up highly anxious, I saw his point. Anxiety attacks are provoked by the uncertainty and by our predictions of the future. It's not having any faith in God, really. We want to be in control of our future, to know what will happen and to be completely prepared for it. We analyze all possible scenarios and try to predict our reactions and action plans... As he said, we try to be God. We try to be omniscient and sovereign.

In a way, knowing that doesn't help because I still am terrified of what scariness might be in the future sometimes, but on the other hand, it kind of points out how useless it is to control stuff you have no concept or grasp of. And to form plans and set goals to avoid anxiety just overrides the natural sway of your life. Obviously, some plans are ok, but to set plans in such a way that your entire future is written in stone leaves no room for the Holy Spirit to move you. It leaves no room for passionate spontaneity. It leaves no room for accidental living.

Accidental living is the best.

I was telling my cousins last night about the time I got totally lost in Banff (which has, like, two streets), and I ended up taking a wrong turn into the woods. I kept walking (I'm smart that way), and ended up coming out of the woods to the edge of a massive cliff. There I stood, with a deep, dense forested valley in front of me and on the other side of the valley was Mount Rundle, my favorite mountain so far. I was face to face with it. It was truly amazing and I only ended up there because I was completely lost and yet somehow couldn't stop putting one foot in front of the other.

Of course, back then I had no perception of God, so it was just nature and I having a moment together while God watched, waiting patiently for me to be ready to acknowledge that there might be more, that maybe nature and I were part of a much larger team.

I remember it so clearly. I remember the way the air felt. The way the sky looked. The way the silence seemed to echo.

It was easy.

It was just me and nature. I was taking advantage of the wonders of the world, appreciating every moment, soaking it all in until my heart was full.

But I never said thank you.

It took me twenty-eight years to say thank you.

It was probably one of the most difficult things I've ever done.

Initiative, leadership and courage...

They say that being a pastor's wife is incredibly hard. I suppose that between the commitment to the community, the intensity of responsibility and the pressures that result, being a pastor's wife and dealing with all of the side-effects of marrying a man at the head of such a messed up congregation would be trying to say the least. But I've heard so many sermons where the pastor talks about his wife and the way they each speak totally honors their wife and makes me crave it anyway.

I think the statistic was if the women knew what they were getting into, 85% wouldn't have married a pastor or pastor-to-be. Maybe that's completely wrong, but that's the number I have in my memory and if it is wrong, the number is strikingly high and that's the important point.

Why would I crave something that so many women wish they could get out of?

Because the good pastors seem to have their priorities straight- first comes God and Jesus, then their wife, then their kids and then everything else. Or in the case of a pastor, first after the kids comes the church. But the wife is first among the worldly things and I crave that importance.

I listened to a part of the Q&A section of a sermon Mark Driscoll gave about whether or not a woman should pursue a man. His answer was no. "If you chase a man, you'll chase him for the rest of your life." I know that all too well. :D He goes on to say that Christian men lack courage and so many non-Christian men step in and appeal simply because they demonstrate initiative, leadership, and courage.

Christian or not, the guys I have dated have never pursued me. In my quest for importance, acknowledgment and love, I never realized their complete lack of initiative, leadership and courage. In other words, in all my pursuing and all my efforts, I never sought a real man. What kind of man lacks those three fundamentals?

I have those three fundamentals (even if my employee evaluation may say otherwise :D) and I always assumed that being a strong person deterred or intimidated men to the point where even if they did have an interest in me, they would not pursue it.

But even if I'm a strong woman, shouldn't I expect the man in my life to be stronger than me?

If strong relationships are built on respect and admiration (among other things), how can I achieve that when the beginning is already the first proof that I'm the stronger one in the couple? How can I admire a man knowing he wasn't courageous enough to step up while he still had nothing to lose? How can I raise him up in the long term when he has started off at rock bottom?

And so, here are these pastors speaking publicly, with their reputation hanging on their shoulders, saddled with the pressures that come with being empathetic to an entire congregation along with those outside the congregation, and even though they're in a respected position of authority, they lift their wives up even higher.

I can't even imagine being worthy of such an honor. I can't imagine being worthy of such open devotion.

Maybe that's why God created dogs: to always remind us doubting ladies (and maybe doubting men too) that no matter what we do, we are worthy. Every time I come home from anywhere, I'm greeted with wagging tails and irrepressible barks of excitement, and my dogs know my core person. They know who I am and where my heart is and still love me and respect me. How is it unreasonable to expect the same from another person?

Maybe Mark Driscoll is right in this case. If part of being a man is being strong enough to face rejection and to face failure, then why would I expect anything less than somebody who is man enough to be vulnerable?

And without any intention of condescension, to any men reading this: if you're ever in a situation where you're not man enough to step up, maybe it's time to re-evaluate what your priorities are. Nowhere on the list, among God, wife, kids and church, is "myself". If you're at the top of your own list of priorities, maybe it's time to fix that before you damage any more women. And that's the truth- you are damaging them. I would imagine that somewhere in your heart (the cynical part of me wants to slip in "amongst all the hollow, black and charred places", but I won't. :D), you don't want to leave behind a legacy of pain.

In the meantime, at the very least, I'm going to relinquish a little bit of the control and stop pursuing. For how can a guy be grateful to have me around if he didn't earn me?

Exactly.