I went to a Christmas party last Saturday. I don't always love these, but the host couple was people we don't see much, so we were kind of obligated to attend. Upon arriving at the party, we found that due to some Christian university rules, we couldn't have alcohol, and we'd stopped along the way for a bottle of wine.
We knew going in that this party wouldn't consist of people we usually spent time with, and weren't sure who was showing up anyway. The instant I walked in the door, I felt judged. The other wives, including the hostess, didn't try to engage me in much conversation and sat in the corner, whispering and giggling. Austin and I, though both extroverts, get scared at parties, and usually take the spot in the kitchen, pouring drinks and serving food. It's what we do at our house, why not make life easier for the host? But Charlie kept pushing me, "I can introduce you to anyone here, Holly. Who do you want to meet? Go spend time with the girls!" Oh but Charlie, I have a phobia of girls. Have had it since I was 15. This reminds me too much of feeling left out in my high school cafeteria. Please don't make me talk to the types of girls who have shunned me (and who I, admittedly, shunned back) since my teens. "I'll just stay and help my husband, thanks."
As the evening progressed and we worked our way through the white elephant gift exchange, I felt more and more annoyed. Some of "our people" eventually showed up and that helped considerably, but I still felt like I was ignored because we're so far below the poverty line and because my husband is so easily excitable and loud (that annoys some people I guess).
Why should I feel so left out? Everyone there was the same age as us, the married folks had only been married just a few months before us (much to our chagrin), and we were all raised in evangelical protestant homes. But I think that was just it. We're "rogues" now. We left evangelical protestantism and became "mainliners", or as they would mistakenly call us, "liberal christians". As a result, we think some swearing, drinking of alcohol, and honesty is ok. We don't think emotionalizing our relationship with God is. That makes us outcasts now, along with the fact that everyone else came from wealthy homes and are making decent salaries. I don't think any other couple there would be able to survive on what we have (we barely do!). I guess that makes me proud, but I sure wish we had just $600 more per month. If we had that, I think we'd feel like we were living as kings.
On the drive home with another one of our "rogue" friends (an evangelical protestant, but one who was recently accused of being "emergent", who is 30 and has served in the military for over 10 years), we talked about what made that party so unwelcoming. We had all grown apart from that and would never return. We were bound to lose those friendships anyway; they were too "busy" to spend time with people anymore, least of all us.
I didn't lose friends when I first became Lutheran. But now we are.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
I've always been passionate about this topic, but I think now I'm going to spend more time on it. After reading Forbidden Fruit by Mark Regnerus this summer and concluding a more in-depth study of it this afternoon, I've decided it's time to put my thoughts on paper about the problems with the treatment of sex in the church today.
I'm not going to write another Christian abstinence book, nor am I going to conduct a study on whether teens care about what the church says, as that has all been done before me, sometimes well, sometimes poorly. My aim is to figure out why so many of the girls I went to high school youth group with are now single mothers and what can be done to ensure this isn't a continuing trend.
I've always been frustrated with how the church talks about sex, especially with teen girls. It seems most often they aren't given the same amount of attention as the boys. We're told simply to "guard our hearts" and wait for our husbands to sweep us off our feet and give us the best marital sex in the world. Well, I know personally that it doesn't always work that way. Those who wait often end up wildly disappointed when their idealized notions of sex end up being wrong and those who don't wait often end up pregnant, infected, or misused.
I also want to look into the education of married adults about sex and what their ideas are doing to the institution of marriage. With so much emphasis on abstinence, Christians are left with no real information about what sex and marriage are supposed to look like. Or that they are even good. But how can we change this? Is there any one effective means?
This is just a starting point. But I'm so passionate about this that it is stupid to sit on the sidelines and let other people express the same ideas in disjointed form.
I'm not going to write another Christian abstinence book, nor am I going to conduct a study on whether teens care about what the church says, as that has all been done before me, sometimes well, sometimes poorly. My aim is to figure out why so many of the girls I went to high school youth group with are now single mothers and what can be done to ensure this isn't a continuing trend.
I've always been frustrated with how the church talks about sex, especially with teen girls. It seems most often they aren't given the same amount of attention as the boys. We're told simply to "guard our hearts" and wait for our husbands to sweep us off our feet and give us the best marital sex in the world. Well, I know personally that it doesn't always work that way. Those who wait often end up wildly disappointed when their idealized notions of sex end up being wrong and those who don't wait often end up pregnant, infected, or misused.
I also want to look into the education of married adults about sex and what their ideas are doing to the institution of marriage. With so much emphasis on abstinence, Christians are left with no real information about what sex and marriage are supposed to look like. Or that they are even good. But how can we change this? Is there any one effective means?
This is just a starting point. But I'm so passionate about this that it is stupid to sit on the sidelines and let other people express the same ideas in disjointed form.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
It's been over a year since I looked at this, yet I feel as though it is time to return, if only once.
I don't know if a year ago I thought I would be where I am now. Sure, I realized that at this point I'd be a college graduate and married, but did I think that my entire view of life and God would change so much? What happened to thinking? When did it become barely getting by, accepting what happened rather than trying to improve? When did I stop learning and start sitting?
Maybe I have dumbed down my life, or maybe I just realize now that being an intellectual doesn't get you food on the table in the real world. School is a fantasy, a land where what goes on in your head produces tangible results. Now it's just about performing tasks in time and decently well enough so that you end up with a check. I've stopped being a child; I'm now an adult. And I hate it.
Adults have always been boring to me. I always thought it was because they didn't "have any fun". I suppose that's a part, but I think the real reason adults seem to have no passion is because they've ignored the fact that stopping the constant, forced, learning process that everyone hopes to complete actually just takes the life fire right out of you. With no employment or hope of worthwhile, challenging employment on the horizon, I can see how the cubicle turns you into a zombie. Everything I thought would be good about being done with school is in reality what has made me currently disappointed with myself. I'm lazy. I don't think for myself or form any ambitions. My dreams are dead...or were there any to begin with? Where do I go now? Applying for grad school with our empty pocketbook seems the best way to earn money and escape the disappointment of not earning my keep in our marriage. Sure I can clean house and do laundry, but that isn't enough. I was never meant to be a housewife, so this isn't satisfying. And increasingly more, I can't say I was meant to be a mother either, since at the moment the thought of being pregnant is the stuff of literal nightmares.
This may be the stupidest thing I say here (or not), but we are more happily married than I have ever seen a couple in my entire life. It's so normal for us to never fight and think the same thoughts that when I hear of our neighbors arguing about grocery expenditures or fighting about wanting children, I have to count my blessings. This isn't to say that we never exchange harsh words, but everything is so quickly and easily resolved with apologies and a bit of cuddling. It's amazing how physical touch can solve so many issues with us. I wonder sometimes if this is something that would have been equally as helpful had we been dating in the same city the whole time. Maybe not. Either way, it doesn't matter much. We don't ever have to try hard to get along, and with me being unemployed, we're around each other a whole lot. That's a blessing, but also a curse.
Did I ever think I would become Lutheran? If you'd asked me that when I was about 11, I would have told you that there was no way. Today, it seems to fit. After experiencing and reading about the problems with conservative Evangelical Protestantism, I'd rather take the problems with the ELCA. Everything is so different still; I find myself realizing that as a new Lutheran, I'm so lost. After spending years serving the church based on age instead of gifts, I don't know what God has equipped me with. In a church where Austin and I are the only young adults, I am forced to find something new to do. There is no college, no singles, no young-marrieds group. Everyone is together, and most are at least 30 years older than me. But the thing most striking to me is that people are HONEST. As an evangelical it seemed that being truly honest about yourself and your faith was taboo. That it wasn't ok to admit that you have doubts about your faith and questions about God's existence. In my first adult Sunday School class at St. Philip, I realized that the Christian facade I had been forced to put up wasn't necessary here. I didn't have to be afraid of admitting that I've read all the Twilight books and liked them or that I think most Christian music is poorly written. I can talk with the pastors like they're real people, not that they are up on a pedestal and highly revered. They have lives and problems and aren't scared to admit that.
This process has also taught me that I really am not the kind of person who can benefit from a large church. Our mid-week advent service only had about 20 people this week. We sat in the sanctuary in a few chairs in a circle with candles lit and acoustic music. And some people thought it was boring and admitted that. Wow. I've learned that it is more noble to come to God as you are, even if you don't give a hoot about anything He says, than to lie and pretend that you really do believe the words to popular Christian songs and follow them every day.
God's taught me that a private "quiet time" is dangerous. I am more likely to think God is out to get me when I'm sitting and praying alone than when I'm discussing theology with others. I have to be in communication with others in order to communicate with God. When left alone I will fail and I will get frustrated, lost in my own imperfect thoughts and unreliable emotions. When I took the false emotionality out of my faith as I left evangelical protestantism and became a mainliner, I found myself freer as a believer than ever before. No more pretending. No more lying. No more beating myself up. Only God and the me who hadn't ever seen the sun, barren of the clown disguise I hid myself behind. God can take me as I am, with all of my imperfections laid out on the ground like a yard sale.
I may be wrong. Someday I may change my mind. But as I've always hoped and prayed for, even before this transformation, I want to be genuine. Not the false sense now, but truly. Purely. And without fear.
I don't know if a year ago I thought I would be where I am now. Sure, I realized that at this point I'd be a college graduate and married, but did I think that my entire view of life and God would change so much? What happened to thinking? When did it become barely getting by, accepting what happened rather than trying to improve? When did I stop learning and start sitting?
Maybe I have dumbed down my life, or maybe I just realize now that being an intellectual doesn't get you food on the table in the real world. School is a fantasy, a land where what goes on in your head produces tangible results. Now it's just about performing tasks in time and decently well enough so that you end up with a check. I've stopped being a child; I'm now an adult. And I hate it.
Adults have always been boring to me. I always thought it was because they didn't "have any fun". I suppose that's a part, but I think the real reason adults seem to have no passion is because they've ignored the fact that stopping the constant, forced, learning process that everyone hopes to complete actually just takes the life fire right out of you. With no employment or hope of worthwhile, challenging employment on the horizon, I can see how the cubicle turns you into a zombie. Everything I thought would be good about being done with school is in reality what has made me currently disappointed with myself. I'm lazy. I don't think for myself or form any ambitions. My dreams are dead...or were there any to begin with? Where do I go now? Applying for grad school with our empty pocketbook seems the best way to earn money and escape the disappointment of not earning my keep in our marriage. Sure I can clean house and do laundry, but that isn't enough. I was never meant to be a housewife, so this isn't satisfying. And increasingly more, I can't say I was meant to be a mother either, since at the moment the thought of being pregnant is the stuff of literal nightmares.
This may be the stupidest thing I say here (or not), but we are more happily married than I have ever seen a couple in my entire life. It's so normal for us to never fight and think the same thoughts that when I hear of our neighbors arguing about grocery expenditures or fighting about wanting children, I have to count my blessings. This isn't to say that we never exchange harsh words, but everything is so quickly and easily resolved with apologies and a bit of cuddling. It's amazing how physical touch can solve so many issues with us. I wonder sometimes if this is something that would have been equally as helpful had we been dating in the same city the whole time. Maybe not. Either way, it doesn't matter much. We don't ever have to try hard to get along, and with me being unemployed, we're around each other a whole lot. That's a blessing, but also a curse.
Did I ever think I would become Lutheran? If you'd asked me that when I was about 11, I would have told you that there was no way. Today, it seems to fit. After experiencing and reading about the problems with conservative Evangelical Protestantism, I'd rather take the problems with the ELCA. Everything is so different still; I find myself realizing that as a new Lutheran, I'm so lost. After spending years serving the church based on age instead of gifts, I don't know what God has equipped me with. In a church where Austin and I are the only young adults, I am forced to find something new to do. There is no college, no singles, no young-marrieds group. Everyone is together, and most are at least 30 years older than me. But the thing most striking to me is that people are HONEST. As an evangelical it seemed that being truly honest about yourself and your faith was taboo. That it wasn't ok to admit that you have doubts about your faith and questions about God's existence. In my first adult Sunday School class at St. Philip, I realized that the Christian facade I had been forced to put up wasn't necessary here. I didn't have to be afraid of admitting that I've read all the Twilight books and liked them or that I think most Christian music is poorly written. I can talk with the pastors like they're real people, not that they are up on a pedestal and highly revered. They have lives and problems and aren't scared to admit that.
This process has also taught me that I really am not the kind of person who can benefit from a large church. Our mid-week advent service only had about 20 people this week. We sat in the sanctuary in a few chairs in a circle with candles lit and acoustic music. And some people thought it was boring and admitted that. Wow. I've learned that it is more noble to come to God as you are, even if you don't give a hoot about anything He says, than to lie and pretend that you really do believe the words to popular Christian songs and follow them every day.
God's taught me that a private "quiet time" is dangerous. I am more likely to think God is out to get me when I'm sitting and praying alone than when I'm discussing theology with others. I have to be in communication with others in order to communicate with God. When left alone I will fail and I will get frustrated, lost in my own imperfect thoughts and unreliable emotions. When I took the false emotionality out of my faith as I left evangelical protestantism and became a mainliner, I found myself freer as a believer than ever before. No more pretending. No more lying. No more beating myself up. Only God and the me who hadn't ever seen the sun, barren of the clown disguise I hid myself behind. God can take me as I am, with all of my imperfections laid out on the ground like a yard sale.
I may be wrong. Someday I may change my mind. But as I've always hoped and prayed for, even before this transformation, I want to be genuine. Not the false sense now, but truly. Purely. And without fear.
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