Feet On the Ground

I thought that after starting school with so many lectures and reading assignments that I’d be loathe to hear one more lecture in the form of a sermon.

I was so wrong.

I still love hearing a good sermon and the intelligence of my professors has only made me desire more intelligence in preachers. I was listening to Bill Johnson of Bethel Church yesterday and was so totally struck by something he said. In Christianity, the way we should study is by looking at perfection and what’s right. We learn a standard by seeing the way that Jesus operates. Then, when we encounter something in the world that goes against what Jesus says or does, we can immediately identify it as wrong. We might not know exactly why it’s wrong, but our instincts realize even before reasoning can kick in.

In class today, I learned that in many of the cases that we’ll run over in our casebooks are put there because they’re wrong, not because they’re right. In almost all of them, the court system did something totally stupid or made up the law and someone else came along and called them out on it. My professor likened it to med students studying sick people, not people that are well.

I get what she’s saying. But really, we have to have a standard of what’s right to even know what’s wrong. In medicine, students already know from personal experience how the body is supposed to operate. In law, it’s often common sense (or you could argue that it’s not, because there are a ton of stupid lawyers and judges out there…and I was the one worried about making it through school!). We are pretty conditioned or made to know what those standards of operation are.

Yet in life, just trying to discern right from wrong, we’re automatically coded to do what’s wrong. We’re imperfect and soiled. We make bad decisions, hurt other people, and generally screw up. Most of the people that I know even do it in the name of religion or holiness, and it’s still wrong.

Christians aren’t perfect. Far from it, and most of us know it. The ones that act like they don’t are the ones most terrified by it. It goes against our other systems because humans naturally feel like we should know the standard of correctness and perfection. We totally don’t. Christians have accepted it, inherited it as a gift from Jesus – but it takes us more than a lifetime to actually learn that standard. We’ll never get it right, but that’s not an excuse to stop trying.

If I learn, little by little, what’s perfect and right and meant for me, I’ll recognize what’s not and stay away from it. Who better to learn from than Jesus?

Tags: determination, law school, learning

I’m trying to do torts reading, but we had pages 9-24 and I just can’t seem to make myself concentrate for that long. Ergo, bloggity blog!

I discovered something interesting today in my first day of class.

I’ve been so passionate about the concept of story on here – how we all have one and each day and action is an important part of it. Yet for the past several months I had kind of forgotten about how important my story was. I mean, I hated my job, and then after I quit I just sat around watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t see Joss Whedon as a waste of time, like, ever, but I wasn’t really being that useful during that time.

(Incidentally, I’m pretty sure I learned more about the art of telling a story by watching Buffy than any other source. Seriously, it’s fantastic.)

I wasn’t really living my story. Although a few times I had dreams that I was living Buffy’s. It seemed that I couldn’t really find a balance between enjoying the art of other stories (of fictional or real characters) and living out my own. I thought that as soon as law school started, I’d be so busy living my story that I wouldn’t have time to enjoy anyone else’s.

After reading my first few cases, I realized that they’re just stories.

It all relates. We can’t get away from story.

Overall, it just proves to me that God really does know what He is doing.

Tags: law school, learning

Day 2 of orientation went much better. It seemed like people were looser, more relaxed. Then we all hung out at night and I think getting out of the law school and getting dressed up helped quite a bit. I talked with Megan, a girl in my orientation group, for a couple of hours. She’s sweet and I think we mesh pretty well, plus we have all of our classes together! I also approached a few girls I hadn’t seen before and introduced myself. They were really welcoming and nice and we talked easily for about half an hour. It was a relief to find people that would actually hold a conversation.

Since I’m mostly an introvert, though, it was really nice to hang out by myself today. I got a manicure and pedicure at Ziyan, a fantastic spa, and I will be back! The girl that did my toes was young and sweet and primarily a hair stylist. I think I’d trust her to cut my hair, which is a big deal, so I might try going to her in a couple of months.

I did the reading for my torts and civ pro classes. It was dense, but not too much so, and I felt like I went through it okay. I briefed one case and haven’t really taken notes yet, but it’s difficult because I don’t yet know what the professors are looking for. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

I want to find more things to decorate my place, but I’m afraid to spend too much. I’ll probably wait until next semester to buy more- but I can definitely see myself staying in this apartment all three years of school, so I shouldn’t really be in a hurry. I feel so blessed to have found such a great place. It’s literally 10 minutes away from everything.

My blogs will become more riveting, I promise.

(Don’t hold your breath.)

Tags: law school, learning

I had a going away party yesterday. I had it a little early because my beloved aunt is going to have surgery this week and she, of course, had to be a part of everything. She’s having her reconstruction surgery after completely defeating cancer. She didn’t even have to have radiation or chemotherapy. She’s so strong and faithful and God is SO awesome. Anyway.

So, if I defined success by the number of people who apparently gave a crap about me moving away to be bothered enough to come to my party, I’d be a big blasted failure.

You know who came? THE PEOPLE I’M GOING TO TALK TO ANYWAY. *headdesk* I’m not kidding…nearly half of the people that came I had seen that week. I invited so many people that I don’t get to see that often and might never see again, thinking that it would be so cool to have everyone in one place. A couple people had legitimate excuses- my bff came for 30 minutes because she had to go, ya know, be a bridesmaid in a wedding…and we totally hung out last night anyway. But some people gave very vague excuses. I don’t consider, “I had stuff to do!” a legitimate reason to not come to my party. You know what the real reason was? I don’t care about your party.

The only people that showed up from church were my band guys and their wives. A couple people that I have met from church were there- but they don’t go anymore and I don’t consider them “church friends” anyway. I consider them “real friends” and it’s sad that there is a difference between the two.

But for the rest of people at church? Their reason? I don’t care.

The party was at the church.

The people there pride themselves on being so perfect. Yet they are so selfish, so awful, and so stuck up their own asses that they can’t even think about honoring someone else. If I’m truly honest with you, and that’s something that I just can’t keep out of my writing…the thing that makes me happiest about moving away is that I won’t have to come up with excuses to myself about why I’m not going to church.

Here’s the reason. Flat out there. Not an excuse, a reason. I can’t stand most of the people at my church.

Now, I have a pastor that I love here, and a choir member there, and the guys in the horn section, and their wives…and a couple of the greeters, and the woman that works the information desk, and some people in the congregation that I wave to on occasion…

…and that’s, honestly, about it.

But those people? Those people are AMAZING beyond belief and I will never forget them. Ever. They are going to have places of the highest honor in heaven because they’re that spectacular.

Yet I find the majority so clueless, so obnoxious, and so flat out rude and lazy that I hate that they’re the picture of Jesus to our community.

How can they coexist in the same organization?

It’s sickening sometimes. The place operates haphazardly and foolishly. Too much responsibility is put on too many people, and that resulted in hundreds of thousands of dollars being embezzled by the financial adviser. Then after that, someone thought it was a good idea to put the financial operations in the hands of some 20 year olds.

Like that would ever fly in the real world.

I’m so. so. so. tired of stupid Christians.

So what’s success? Right now, I don’t know. I know that the church doesn’t think I’m a success, and I don’t think it’s a success.

I know that this probably sounds like a whole lot of whining. Yeah, it hurt my feelings that not many people came. But I’m so thankful FOR the people that did come that I don’t want to belittle their importance in any way whatsoever. I wouldn’t trade them for a billion fakes. What really makes me frustrated, though, is the picture that this paints. The picture that is so totally unlike Jesus. To love like Jesus is to be a success. But how do we show it? Church is the last place I’d look right now.

Tags: angry, controversy, learning, uncertainty

I have a really bad singing voice. It’s nasally and I can’t carry a tune very well, so I don’t sing…unless I’m playing Glee songs in the car. I have to turn the volume up so that the cast drowns me out.

I get really nervous talking in front of people. I get shaky. My pupils constrict, I turn pale and my voice wobbles like I’m getting ready to cry. My throat tightens. My mouth dries. I see people staring at me with blank expressions and I have to fight the urge to run out the door – and I fight it only because I know my legs wouldn’t carry me that far.

So the only voice I have is through writing.

Problem is, I have a need to be brutally honest when I write. I can’t make it nice and fluffy and lovey unless I’m really feeling that way. I’m sarcastic. My verbal filter is riddled with holes. I say things that most Christians are afraid to even think. I write what I feel, which is usually full of pain and confusion.

And then I read the blogs of some AMAZING women. Lindsey Nobles. Bianca Juarez. Anne Jackson. Sarah Markley. Kristin Billerbeck. Fabulous women. Strong women. My role models from afar. I’ve never met them, but I have talked to them all on Twitter, e-mail, or Facebook chat. They all have many reasons to be bitter and question everything they believe, but they get out of bed and fight. Maybe not everyday. But most days. They write about everything, including their struggles, but usually end with a note of hope.

It’s then, that I hate my writing voice more than my singing voice. For a writer, your voice is your self. They can’t be separated. I realize how bitter, how confused, how hopeless I am. How afraid, how insecure. Faithless. Weak. Incapable.

I also realize why THEY are living a much better story than I am. Stories of redemption and passion and overcoming and perseverance and faith. I have no idea how to get my hands on this kind of life.

Yet somehow, their hope is contagious. I want the type of life they lead. I want strength to choke bitterness, courage to overwhelm fear, and love to blast hatred into oblivion. I honestly don’t know if I can ever change. I want to. I hope I can. And for now, I can muster up the willpower to keep trying.

Tags: change, determination, learning, trying, uncertainty

There are a few things that, as a rule, I can’t stand. Church people and girls are at the top of the list. So girls from church are my personal hell on earth.

I realize that I’m generalizing and stereotyping. But in my experience, most of the girls I’ve had the displeasure of associating with in churchlike settings are vapid, shallow, concerned with appearances and unable to stand on their own. They’re daddies girls who are constantly seeking approval from everyone around them and their main goal is to marry someone who is important or the son of someone important in the church.

I used to want to be one of them. Oh, so badly.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself fit in. So I eventually quit. For a while, I quit everything related to church and even stopped playing in the band. When I returned, I didn’t hang out with anyone. I literally had NO friends close by. I went to school, work, and came home. My grades were great and I watched a lot of TV. It was a very quiet time in my life, and my only face-to-face conversations of any importance were with my mom. I spend a lot of time texting and calling my far away friends. And although I’d still see on Facebook all of the comments and pictures of church people hanging out, I had absolutely no desire to join in. I no longer cared.

I worked through a lot of hurt in that time, and after a while got to the point where I could see people that had ostracized me without feeling that old stab of pain. I even struck up conversations with people now and then, but this time I had no expectations.

Then I shocked myself by meeting someone I really liked. She started dating one of my friends and was the sister of someone I had gone to school with for years. We hit it off from our first conversation. She was hard to get ahold of when we weren’t at church, but every time I saw her we chattered away and had a blast. We hung out a few times with our friends and I looked forward to seeing her. I felt as if I didn’t have to be strategic around her- I could just show her who I was. We giggled, a lot, and whispered about things that would earn us shocked faces and frowns from most people around us. I liked her because she had a pretty real view of things that most people in church try to pretend don’t exist.

She was one of those people that, if you could PICK someone to be friends with, it would be her. We both got new jobs around the same time, and then the holidays were crazy, and so many times we said, “When things calm down, we’re going to hang out. Just us.”

Finally, I decided to try to make it happen. But she wasn’t responding to texts or facebook messages for days, or the next time I’d see her she’d apologize. Finally, I got fed up with it and asked her boyfriend if he could see if she was getting my texts. I’d heard stuff about her phone not getting messages before, and was still trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. She texted me later that day and started going on about how she was a loner and didn’t have much time to hang out and well, basically told me to quit trying.

Salt, meet wound.

I was hurt and extremely angry. I ranted and stewed and seasoned my bitterness like a witch’s brew. I wrote her off in my head and made every effort to avoid her. Fortunately, I didn’t see her at church for like, a month. Then, I saw her unexpectedly. She tried talking to me as I was walking outside to get my jacket from my car. I smiled stiffly and responded with as few words as possible and kept going. When I came back inside, I went into the bathroom. She was there. She tried to strike up a conversation. I kept trying to brush her off, but she persisted. Finally, I said, “I’ll come out and sit with you in a minute.” She grinned and said okay and walked out the door.

So, as I’m peeing as angrily as possible and berating myself for telling her I’d come sit with her, because there was no way out now- I heard God speak to my spirit.

“Forgive her.”

Of course, I wasn’t giving in that easily. A dialogue ensued.

“No.”
“Yes.”
“She hurt me!”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to!”
“I don’t care.”

I’m certain that I had a big scowl on my face. I’m also certain that God was lounging on His throne with his arms folded and staring at me with a calm, yet pointed expression. I was having a standoff with someone who knew He was going to win. Soooooooo infuriating.

And, well, let’s just be real. There, in the church’s bathroom, I said, “Damnit!”

At that moment, I TOTALLY felt God smirking at me. My candor and whining didn’t bother Him. My stubbornness amused Him. I felt no censure, and I think it’s because He knew that I was deeply hurt, that I had deeply cared about her, and that I truly wanted to do the right thing.

I washed my hands and stomped over to the door. I took a deep breath and sighed it out forcefully and then, with a small bit of resignation mixed into a whole lot of determination, I said, “Okay.”

I went out there. Forgave. Talked. Hugged. Expressed my hurt. Cleared the air. Made a few jokes. Giggled. Hugged again.

That was a few weeks ago. And since then, I’ve only seen her once and said hi in passing. We haven’t had any other contact.

It still kind of hurts.

I still love her.

And I think God is proud of me.

Tags: awkward, grace, learning, pain, peace, risk

I didn’t know what the “terrible twos” were until I met Heidi. She hit two and the cute little girl turned into a nightmare. She would throw tantrums for no reason, hit people, throw things, lie, stomp, whine and complain. It was such a stark contrast to her surroundings- living in a family who explodes with love, would take on the world for her and parents who spoiled her with anything she could ever want. Not getting her way was usually nothing more than getting the wrong flavor of popsicle.

I was SO excited when that little girl was born. But when she hit that pattern of behavior, I stopped trying to play with her. Usually never even talked to her because she would say something nasty. If she ever came up to say hi or give me a hug, it was like the earth stood still for a moment awaiting the four horsemen. I still loved her, but it was from a distance.

And then, somehow, I ended up playing basketball (badly) outside with my cousins. It was warm (as in, not freezing) and we were excited to be able to run around outdoors. A couple of them left and a couple went inside, including Bella, Heidi’s older sister. Thinking Heidi would want to go in as well to watch a movie with Bella, I prepared to follow them in. But the stubborn little stinker refused. When she was told that everyone was going inside, she pointed to me and said, “I want to stay out and play with Kay Kay.”

Erm, srsly? I warily agreed.

As things usually happen, it was the best time I have ever spent playing with her.

I held her up to dunk the ball. I chased her around. We kicked the ball back and forth and then threw it to one another. She demanded that I put down the second ball because she wanted us to share. She said hilarious things that had me in stitches. She wanted to see my car and climbed in the seat and honked the horn. She told me funny stories. She went inside to use the bathroom and dragged me back out to play again in the dark. She talked to the neighbors. She held my hand. When we were finished she told everyone what a great time we had, and when she left a little while later, she thanked me for playing with her and told me she loved me.

Just like that, the terrible twos were erased. She became a beautiful, lovable, loving little girl. It was there all along, but we just had to wait for her sweetness to come back and love her in the meantime

I’m so thankful that God never gives up on me. He greets me with such love even just after I throw a fit over silly little things. He knows that a sweet girl is there, deep down inside, and patiently draws her out. He loves me when I’m unlovable.

Tags: determination, grace, learning, love

She sat at the table and recounted a story that is the closer to hell than anything I’ve ever experienced. Her straight posture and matter-of-fact manner didn’t welcome pity for her pain that she hid well behind a mask of cynicism and wit and bluntness. Yet as we sat there, my heart broke for her. It was too late for me to do anything about her pain, but I knew it was tangible and wondered if I could have done anything beforehand to help her through it. I even realized that such thoughts were useless, but it all felt so real in that moment that I could barely hold myself together.

And then when we were alone, she had the audacity to apologize for possibly offending me with her tale.

It was an issue that countless people have underwent, even in the church, and it’s something that usually results in immediate condemnation. Yet condemnation was the farthest thing from my mind. I haven’t known her for very long, but I can honestly say that I love her. And in that love there was no judgment. Only deep regret that I hadn’t been there to support her.  That she had to endure it alone.

The thought that she could have kept her story to herself out of fear of offending me made me feel a whole host of negative emotions toward myself and the religious community in general. Yet it felt so powerful because she chose to tell me and my first response was grace.

This isn’t a post to talk about how fabulous I am. The desire to extend grace was the most humbling thing I have ever felt in my life. I realized that grace means you’re aligning yourself with someone. It’s not showing that you’re condoning their actions but rather that you see them as they were made to be and are willing to help them close the gap from there to where they currently are. Extending grace means that you might receive condemnation simply from associating with them. It doesn’t mean that you’ll receive grace in return and almost certainly guarantees that enemies will rise up immediately to punish you for daring to give them a free pass.

I would never presume that I’ve made any impact on her life at all. If you could write a life story that was exactly the opposite of mine, hers would be it. But I’ve learned so much from her. Even if we never spoke again, I will forever remember her as striking. Her appearance, her wit, her ability to cut through all of the crap in a situation or a person and call them out on it. Her tenacity is unparalleled and the way she can rebound from a bad situation and push through everything life throws at her is remarkable. She warns and even apologizes for her brashness but refuses to curb herself to fit a mold. She’s the type of person that everyone wants to tame but she’s exactly what we need to make us realize that molds are completely useless.

She’s changed my life.

We’d be offended by her story, and that’s exactly why we need it.

Tags: appreciation, discomfort, grace, learning, nightmare, pain, risk

I was pretty unfortunate looking in high school and the beginning of college.

I wasn’t hideous or anything, but my awkward stage lasted a lot longer than it could have. I didn’t have confidence. I had glasses and bangs. I’ve worn makeup nearly every day since I was in middle school and I’ve always dressed decently, but I was always a bit off somehow, and wasn’t really noticed.

So it comes as no surprise when I stopped in at church the other day and a girl there said, “You look like such a different person with straight hair and makeup.” No surprise because this girl has zero social grace and because, yeah, there’s some truth to it. The thing is, I’ve always worn makeup around her and sometimes I still wear my hair curly. It just looks better now than it did a few years ago. She tried to present it as a compliment with a hidden insult. It was probably obvious to everyone around.

I could have pointed out that she doesn’t wear eyeliner or mascara and really should. Or that she used to have super permed curly hair herself that looked absolutely awful on her. I smiled and said something to deflect the insult as much as possible when I wanted to retort. I have never been mean to this girl, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t need a reason.

I don’t really like her, but I gave her grace.

Then the very next day, I said something mean to someone I really care about. I know they care about me. They said something a little mean, hitting a sore spot that they know is a sore spot. So I fired back as hard as I could. It was nearly instantaneous, and I really hurt them.

I gave grace to someone who didn’t deserve it at all.

I retaliated against the person who, by all accounts, has been wonderful to me for the duration of our friendship and should have earned unlimited do-overs, undos, and freebies.

And they received no grace.

I feel awful about it.

What if Jesus revoked grace right when I needed it most? When I committed a sin that would be the equivalent of sticking gum under a desk rather than throwing it in the garbage? What if He suddenly got really angry about that whole cross debacle and snapped? Tore up the contract and threw me in chains?

But He won’t.

We’re at His mercy, but He is good. Always good.

I’m not.

I can only hope that I receive grace when I don’t deserve it from the person I refused it. And that I learn to keep my mouth shut and give grace abundantly.

Tags: grace, learning, pain

When you apply to law school, you have to write a personal statement. It’s the one part of the application where I have the most control. It will allow the committee to have a peek inside of my life and see what’s motivating me to go to school. You’d think this would be the thing I’d nail, considering that all of my blogs are about my favorite topic- me.

Instead, I’m finding it incredibly challenging. When I write here, I try to include more than a hint of self-deprecation because I know how ridiculous I am most of the time, even in my earnestness. Yet when I’m writing this statement, my earnestness is completely sincere. It’s kind of terrifying. I haven’t cared about something this much since…well, we all know how that turned out.

These feelings are so weird. I don’t know how to process them seriously right now. I don’t know when I began downplaying my passions but now it’s like I’ve become the person I scorned. Someone who didn’t care enough about anything to really pursue it.

I miss writing, I miss God, I miss reading, I miss spending time by myself just being in complete silence and completely content with that. I could be doing any of those things seriously right now, but I’m laying here with a headache, a slightly sore throat, tense muscles knotted in my neck and not enough energy to think about anything beyond, “Ow.”

And, of course, this intense desire for something more that I can’t seem to put into words…but I have to.

Tags: change, discomfort, law school, learning, risk