Risk

Only A Woman

A Place for Pain, Leadership, Risk, The Single Life, We The Church View all 3 comments

Joy Williams recently released a song, “Woman (Oh Mama)”. It’s a tribute to womanhood and while I prefer her earlier music, there is a line in her new single that perfectly describes how I am feeling at this moment.

“I am The Universe wrapped in skin.”

The universe is full of mysteries that will never be solved. It is complex, containing great big wondrous creations and tiny intricate slivers of life. It is full of light and dark. The universe is in constant motion but contained in the stillness of space.

I am the universe.

I want to speak honestly here, but I confess that I am afraid. I am afraid of what you might think. I am afraid that I might seem weak. Still, I know I am not alone in the place where I kneel. I know there are others with the same aches, same questions. So it is with fear and trembling, yet with humility and strength that I let my heart bleed out into my words.

You see, this past week, leading up to Mother’s Day, my tiny world was flooded with questions of a woman’s place.

I preached a sermon, my first, this past Sunday and it went well. I believe that God spoke through me, that He used me to say things that my church family needs to hear. But, I grew up in a tradition, different than the one I find myself in now, that taught me that men are preachers and pastors and leaders of the church. Women lead women and children and never men. So I wrestle with my place at the pulpit even when I’m sure the words in my mouth are from The Father.

Two days prior to my inaugural sermon, I came across a post from someone I respect that reiterated what I’d learned in my youth about women taking the pulpit. Doubt flooded my mind and heart. And the questions wrapped around my throat. More than “What is my place?”, the questions were “Woman. Who am I?” With prayer, and knowing I stood also in the support of many Godly men and women, the waters of doubt subsided and I spoke in the authority of The Spirit on Sunday.

Still, I’d be lying if I said I am certain now of where I stand as a woman.

And it wasn’t only my own questions. I had conversations with two students last week about women in leadership. Women in marriage. Women in life. They came to me, with hearts laid open. Looking for wisdom. Asking for a sounding board. Offering the pearls formed by the questions turning over in their minds. And I told them what I know. And I told them what I think. And I told them what I wonder.

See, this place in history, in MY history as well as in our collective history, is tearing at the soul of woman. On one side, the quest for equality is being blamed for the fall of mankind. But on the other, the strength of woman is being lauded as the missing piece finally found. From one voice I respect, “why women should not preach” and from another, “why shouldn’t they?“.

And then there was this:

“As a man gets more powerful and successful, he is better liked. As a woman gets more powerful and successful, she is less liked.”

And that makes women fear growth. As a single woman, it feeds the fear that if I continue to follow my ambition, my desire to grow into the things God has wired into my soul, that I will outgrow the possibility of ever being desirable to a man. It’s a lie. It must be. Men surely cannot be so intimidated or turned off by a woman following her dreams that he can only imagine life with a woman who has done nothing but wait for him to show up.

And yet, that is the lie that is fed to us so often.

And here I find myself, wrestling with these questions, this place in history ripping holes in the universe of my soul. I do not yet fully grasp who I am as a woman. Who I am meant to be. Where I am to stand.

Here is what I know:

  • I delight in what God is doing with my days.
  • I cherish the opportunities He has given me to grow.
  • I desire to use whatever platform He gives to speak life.
  • I enjoy this season.
  • I ache for a new season.
  • I  love adventure and dream of someone to journey alongside.
  • I pray for students and friends whom I am privileged to nurture in the now.
  • I weep for the not-yet of my children whom I long to hear call me mama.

See, there are mysteries within me that will never be solved by anyone other than the Life-giver. There are within me great big wondrous creations and tiny intricate slivers of life. Both light and darkness fill my skin. I am constant motion contained in the stillness of the Maker’s hands. I am a woman.

On Becoming a Grown Up

Leadership, Risk, Student Ministry One comment
The invention of the teenager was a mistake. Once you identify a period of life in which people get to stay out late but don’t have to pay taxes — naturally, no one wants to live any other way.
 –Judith Martin

Kids these days are so quick to grow up. I watch and listen to the choices they are making and the information they have stored in their brains and think, “Oh my gosh! Slow down!” And the things that they look to as “grown up” activities…well, let’s just say that many of those things haven’t been experienced by some adults. So what is the true rite of passage? How do you know when you have become an adult?

Great question. I’m not sure there is a generic answer that we can slap on every person. But, I’ve made a list of the defining moments in my life. The palpable moments when I thought, “Oh my gosh! I’m an adult!”

 

1. Writing that first paragraph.

I mean, honestly. I just typed the words “kids these days”.  If thoughts like that are so strong they are making it through my “cool” filter, I’m definitely not a youth any longer. My days of thinking, “Old people just don’t get me” are over. When I did have those thoughts, “old people” were 35 or beyond. I’m now incredibly near to being “old people”

2. Driving a van full of middle school kids on a mission trip.

   I was 23 years old, interning at a church in Austin, TX and they gave me the keys to a 12-passenger van. We loaded in and the kids frequently loaded up on Monster energy drinks and I was never more terrified to be behind the wheel. I was a 23 year old who was responsible for safely transporting the precious (combustable) cargo of other people’s pre-teens! By the grace of God, we made it safely to and from Arlington. Although, at one point, I informed them that I was cutting them off…no more energy drinks. At the next stop, they were allowed water. WAH-TER.

3. Apologizing to my parents for being an entitled brat.

I don’t remember exactly how old I was when I made this decision. It was in my later twenties. I just realized that I’d spent so much energy carrying around the boulders of how “unfair” life is. My brother and I have had plenty of “who’s the favorite kid” conversations. Naturally, we disagree on this topic. I am completely the older brother in the prodigal son story. “I did things right! Treat me better! Give me more! This is so unfair!” And one day, the Lord just pressed on that hard place in my heart until it cracked. I went to my parents house and apologized. It was strange bringing that to the light. But I knew it was right. It was taking responsibility. It was what a mature person would do. (Parents, hang in there. You may see a day like this down the road, too.)

4. I didn’t cry when I met with my boss.

    Y’all, I had this….um…issue(?) well into my twenties where anytime an authority figured wanted to discuss something with me, I automatically felt like a twelve year old. Really. I dreaded any conversation with a person of authority because I did not know how to handle feeling unheard or corrected. I went in expecting a lecture every time. Once I began to realize this unhealthy relationship I had to authority figures, I started asking begging The Lord for help. One day I knew I was going to have a meeting with my boss for my annual review. This boss in particular never seemed to hear me. (He made an declaration one day as though he had made a great discovery…I’d been telling him that exact thing for an entire year.) As I prepped myself for our meeting that day, I just kept telling the Lord that I wanted to be able to communicate clearly and maturely in our meeting. After we wrapped up, I walked back to my office with a title bounce in my step as I celebrated not having shed a tear. Progress, y’all.

5. I quit my job in obedience.

We all have those jobs that are training jobs. The jobs that we never would choose but God uses to shape us. I had that job for much longer than I’d have liked, and while I learned much about being responsible there, there came a day when I just did not think I could last another moment. I actually left work one day and wept with the Lord the entire way home telling Him that I didn’t like myself when I was at work and that I couldn’t do that job any longer. His response, whispered to my aching soul was , “Then quit.” Quit?! He hadn’t given me another job! It’s irresponsible to walk away from benefits and a paycheck with nothing lined up. I couldn’t quit. But over and over the Lord would ask, “Do you trust me? Then quit.” So I did. I was nervous but felt so much peace once I moved in obedience. And of course, He provided. But in trusting Him enough to know He would take care of me even if I didn’t have income for awhile, was evidence that my faith had matured. I was an adult.

6. I found a job doing what I was made to do.

Living in your calling, is a completely different feeling of being grown up. In some things, you feel like an adult because you are doing things out of necessity and obedience even though you would just really rather not. But, when you get to live in the job that God has wired you to do, you feel like an adult because the pieces of your heart don’t feel severed. They seem to come together in a way that is brand new. You feel a little more whole than before. And that is where I am now. Oh, don’t get me wrong, living in the career I’ve dreamed of since my teens is not easy. In fact, youth ministry is probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. However, I feel most like myself here. And in feeling authentically me is a very grown up thing.

What were the moments for you? When did you find yourself looking around at your life, realizing you had grown up? 

The Authenticity Dilemma

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“Authenticity is a practice, and you choose it every day                                                                    –sometimes every hour of every day.”

-Brené Brown

There are many things I aspire to be: patient, kind, wise, compassionate, brave. But, there is one aspiration that pervades all the others. To be authentic.

In her book, “The Gifts of Imperfection”, Brené Brown breaks down authenticity into three actions.

         -cultivating the courage to be imperfect, to set boundaries, and to allow ourselves to be vulnerable          

         -exercising the compassion that comes from knowing that we are all made of strength and struggle

         -nurturing the connection and sense of belonging that can only happen when we believe we are enough

Intellectually, I comprehend each of those pieces of the authentic life. One must be comfortable enough in their not-yet-glorified (perfected) self, to be honest about her own faults. One must set boundaries with herself and with others to not allow the voices that would whisper and confirm lies into her life. At the same time, one must risk rejection and put herself out before others regardless of their response. She must have compassion toward herself and others because she knows no one has it all together. She must be secure in her grace-given, God designed self knowing that He doesn’t make mistakes.

But how does one know, in a moment, if their response is out of vulnerability or self-protection? When someone speaks out of line, is it more vulnerable to set a clear boundary and let them know that they may not speak to you in such a manner and risk more backlash? Or, is it more in line with vulnerability to be silent and move on?

I had an encounter like this recently. And quite honestly, I still have no idea if I should have spoken up or been silent. Being silent seems inauthentic to me. And I desire to be authentic. But at the same time, it isn’t always appropriate to speak one’s mind. If I am only speaking my mind to protect the perceived damage to my “good” name, than I have made my name more important than the other person’s opinions or feelings…I have ceased to “exercise compassion that comes from knowing we are all made of strength and struggle.”

It’s an ongoing battle, particularly for those of us who are wired to be more sensitive. How to be one’s true self, not wear a mask to the world and another at home, without losing ourselves somewhere between the two.

I have no grand truth for you today. No conclusion. I only have an honest moment. A confession that I want to be authentic but I don’t always know how to be. Do you have any wisdom to share? Have you wrestled with this as well? I’d love to know what you think. (Brené Brown, if you happen to read this, I have two requests: share your thoughts and let’s be friends.)