The Single Life

Only A Woman

May 13, 2015A Place for Pain, Leadership, Risk, The Single Life, We The ChurchErin 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.

What Makes Adventure?

December 18, 2014Risk, The Single LifeErin View all 2 comments

Adventure:

1) a>an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks

b> the encountering of risks

2) an exciting or remarkable experience

I think I may have mentioned before that a word friends often use to describe me is “brave”. I have shared with some that I do not understand this assessment of my life, because if I’m being honest, I feel far less than brave. I have not taken risks in my life, at least by my own measure.

I look at the stories others have lived and feel small, afraid, weak. I can hardly get through a chapter of “Kisses from Katie” in one sitting because I long for adventure like the one she is living. I long to adopt, to change lives, to be uncomfortable…but comfortably uncomfortable. Is that a thing?

I meet people who live with passion that could shake the earth and move mountains, and I wonder what I missed.

But, as I’ve been reflecting on all of this the past month or so, I’m discovering something fascinating. Adventure is far less about what and where you do what you do. Being brave is much less about grand gestures.

Confession time. I’ve been an online dater (and for several reasons, I have not found it enjoyable.) I found many profiles stating that they want a woman who is adventurous. I’ve always been baffled by this. Adventure is so broad. Of course, most of the time, this quality requirement is paired with a picture of the guy hanging upside down from a cliff, but nonetheless, I wonder what they really are searching for. After all, there will come a day when your body will no longer allow you to hang from a cliff. Is adventure over at that point?

Some of the bravest people I know would never hang from a cliff or swim with sharks. But, everyday, they wake up and step back into the heartache of foster care and adoption. They step into the mess of helping hospice patients face the end of their days with dignity. They continue to put their hearts to melodies for the world to scrutinize. These brave ones may never have their own reality show or write a novel based on their grand gestures, but they are brave. They are adventurers.

Adventure is not an event. It is an attitude. It is showing up every day, watching for and entering into the risks of relationships, of unknowns. It is giving away your last $20 to someone when you aren’t sure where the next $20 will come from. It is loving your family member that doesn’t know how to receive love. Adventure is asking for help again when the last 10 times you have been burned. Being brave is holding on to the vision that The Holy Spirit has delivered to you even when the voices of logic say it’s crazy…or reckless. Adventure is stepping into difficult things. But, here’s the thing, I want my adventures to be for more than an adrenaline rush.

So yes, maybe my dating profile should also read “searching for an adventurer”. But let me clarify… I want adventures beyond scaling Mt. Everest. I want adventures that move Mt. Everest. I want adventures that reach eternity.

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“Adventure.” Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, n.d. Web. 2 Dec. 2014. <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/adventure>.

Tis the Season to Be Lonely

November 10, 2014A Place for Pain, The Single LifeErin View all 2 comments

Recently, someone inquired about my favorite holiday. I didn’t have an answer. In hindsight, it probably would have been fair to claim National Coffee Day, but that may not have been an acceptable answer. After all, as a follower of Jesus, I am supposed to say Christmas or Easter because they are about our Great Savior. Or Thanksgiving, because I get to gather with family and celebrate all the good things. At the very least I should be claiming an alternate Valentines that’s all about loving thy neighbor instead of thy boyfriend, or the fresh mercies that come with New Year’s Day.

All of those things are great. I love that Christmas is a time to refocus my heart on the incredible strategy and humility of God’s plan for invading the world. I love that Easter is a day to recognize the victory of Christ over death. I want to have a grateful heart and love people well. And I am so thankful that there are new mornings and new years that remind us that God is patient and gives second chances. But, if I’m honest, I don’t like holidays.

There are a handful of things that make the holidays hard, but there is one that rises above the rest.

I am single.

And while I have had my fair share of seasons of bitterness over the absence of a spouse, I have reached a place in my life where I am generally content and thankful for my relationship status. I enjoy being single most days. However, the desire for marriage has not gone away and the holidays, more than the normal days, shine a big, blinding spotlight on my ringless finger.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. Christmases growing up were incredible! We had great traditions. But those traditions die out as kids get older and move away. It’s normal. Waiting for dad to set up the video camera before we run in to tear into gifts would be weird as adults in our 30’s. Most holiday traditions in culture and in the church, are geared toward families. And without a family of my own, holidays just feel awkward. I feel out of place. Christmas Eve services are great, but when you are walking to your car surrounded by moms and dads with their kids, it sometimes makes you dread getting into your car alone and going home to an empty apartment. I’m reminded that I don’t have a husband or kids with whom to share the days. I’m reminded that my life doesn’t look like what I hoped it would, what my parents hoped it would, what my grandparents hoped it would.

A few years back, I had an incredible Bible Study teacher and while I have notes and notes from the times I sat under his teaching, there is one particular lesson that I can recall without pulling out old notebooks. It was during the advent season and he had us turn to Luke 2. He talked about the joy of Christmas, promises kept by God, a great plan put in motion…”But, he said, Christmas is not all joy for everyone.”

In Luke 2, we find a man named Simeon hanging out at the temple. He is waiting, like he has done for years, for God to keep His promise…to send the Messiah…to bring the consolation of Israel. As Mary and Joseph bring Jesus to be consecrated in the temple, Simeon recognizes that this baby is God’s promise fulfilled. And Simeon rejoices. No more waiting! But, some people are still waiting. Christmas, and the glorious reason for Christmas may bring some sense of restoration in the waiting, but waiting is hard…it is always hard. And it is possible that while they are celebrating, they may also be aching, wondering when they will hold the fulfilled promises of God.

There is another that we meet in the temple in Luke 2, Anna. She is a widow. She was married for seven years before her husband died and she spent the rest of her days living in the temple worshipping. This breaks my heart as much as it challenges me. Can you imaging being married for seven years and then losing your spouse to death? Anna didn’t melt away in her heartache, she pressed into the heart of God. She spent her days in worship. Still she had no kids (as far as we know), she had no husband. And it may be that while she worshipped and fasted, she also felt heavy with longing and sorrow. It may be that there are many Annas that we overlook in the flurry of the holidays…men and women pressing into the heart of God but carrying deep pains as well. They aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. Heartache and worship. So much of scripture is the writings of those who longed to honor God and glorify His name and also wondered why He seemed so far, why He took so long.

And let us not forget that at the news of a King being born, babies were murdered. Let us not forget that a little girl…a teenager walked with God into the loss of her own reputation. A man trusted when his relationship seemed doomed. Let us not forget that a 9 month-pregnant, weary-from-travel girl and her burden-carrying husband were turned away time and time again because they would have made the other guests uncomfortable. Let us not forget, that while the song may claim that the night our Savior was born was silent and calm and bright, babies never enter this world silent and calm. Mothers in labor scream bloody murder from the pain. Babies cry and are messy.

For some, holidays highlight the waiting, the longing, the absences in their lives, the miles between what they wish was and what really is. Some are grieving the days that once were, when loved ones sat with them around the dinner table telling stories. Some are trying to maintain an air of strength when in reality they are terrified about how they are going to live out the circumstances unfolding before them. For some, the Thanksgiving feast is a reminder that their families are a mess and can’t be together for more than a few minutes before a war breaks out. Maybe for you, the holidays highlight past mistakes and wrong turns or unmet desires. Maybe, the holidays feel more isolating than most days because, when we are supposed to sit around being thankful and celebrating and singing, you are hurting but heartache seems to have no place at the table. Perhaps you feel like one of the great lords of Narnia, missing out on the glorious feast intended to be enjoyed, because your sorrow has put you into a deep sleep from which you cannot seem to wake.

Well, you are not alone. All of our holidays are marked with pain. Thanksgiving- it’s not a beautiful spotless history. Pilgrims were dying of disease and Native Americans were losing their homes. Valentine’s Day is all about death…a man who was murdered for living out his faith. And Christmas is a fulfilled promise but it wasn’t a peaceful time, it wasn’t without cost. There was deep pain woven into the story. So if you are lonely, sitting in a house full of family and friends but alone, if you are carrying the burdens of life, there is a place for you at the table. There is a place for the heartache.