It's Too Hot Outside to Write

It's Jen, the delinquent poster, here.  I'm sorry, but the combination of coordinating an overnight retreat and hot, humid (for California) weather, results in no legitimate post from me.  Instead I chose to hibernate in my room last night next to the air conditioning watching "Call the Midwife."  Later, my roommate and I caught up, ate popsicles, and sang a few karaoke songs.  Then, more "Call the Midwife."  And if you've never watched "Call the Midwife," here are the reasons why you should.  

So, here are a few interesting articles that I'm reading right now/thoughts I'm thinking:

A run down on Syria - I've been keeping tabs on the situation there, since I had the honor to visit the country back in 2006.  This is a great way to get caught up on the fighting in Syria and to catch a glimpse of the history that is fueling the fight.

This is awful! - Who turns "Les Mis" into a lawyer drama?  Fox, that's who.  

Bill Murray, but not Bill Murray - I recently discovered that @BillMurray on Twitter is not actually Bill Murray.  This is sad, but whoever is tweeting under that handle is hilarious.  Well done sir, well done!  For real Bill Murray hilariousness, click here.  Also, I have been delighting in The Most Interesting Pastor (@Most Pastor).  Here's a taste from the other day: While on a road trip through the Chihuahuan desert of Mexico, he discovered the one thing that will make Joel Osteen stop smiling.

Fascinating series on submission - Rachel Held Evans has dedicated this week on her blog to issues of submission and household codes within the Bible. I'm dreadfully behind, but am excited to catch up on my reading.

I'm debating on whether or not I want to see "Austenland." The reviews are not looking so hot, but I do have a gift card to the movies. Darn my love of Jane Austen which at times makes me want to see ridiculous movies (Note: not all Jane Austen movies are ridiculous; some are fabulous).

Have a great Labor Day weekend!

Jen

End it Well

One of my biggest pet peeves with films the last few years is the inability for the filmmaker to end it well. Now, I don't mean tack on a happy ending. Rather, I mean, a good ending that fits with the film as a whole. I saw a movie yesterday with my family and was really enjoying it. That is until we got to the end. The writers had painted themselves into a corner and I suspect didn't know what to do with that. It was disappointing, especially since I really liked the first 75% of the movie. 

Has anyone else noticed this phenomenon in films today? The director who so clearly represents this trend in my eyes is Tim Burton. I have a few Burton films that I really enjoy (Edward Scissor Hands, Nightmare Before Christmas, Big Fish), but I have seen way too many films that have started with really fun concepts, but fizzled out in the end. It's gotten so bad, that I almost as a rule will not see Burton films anymore, no matter how trippy and quirky it appears to be.

Is this trend a result of laziness on the part of Hollywood? Do they focus all their energy on the basic plot points, making them interesting enough to hook people into the theaters, and then just abandon the story's end? "Who cares how it ends - we have their money." This frustrates and angers me.  I think a story's ending is the most important aspect, because this is the ultimate point that a storyteller is trying to make. The hero's journey is ending at a significant moment and there should be something worth saying at that point in the story.

I've been fascinated by narrative this year (I may have mentioned that once or twice or multiple times on the blog). I attended a story workshop at a conference last April and fell even deeper into the rabbit's hole. I learned there that story structure is what gives clarity and structure to a story. It is what enables us to communicate a story so that others can receive it. At the end of the story there's supposed to be a payoff for our emotional investment. So, when an ending is done poorly, it is extremely frustrating (especially when the story was engaging enough to make you care about its main players).

The instructor at my workshop spoke about the dynamics that help create a good ending. One of the main devices used is a bait and switch, where circumstances seem either perfect or absolutely disastrous, but suddenly switch to the opposite. So, in a tragedy, it would seem as though the hero will succeed only to be struck at the last minute with utter loss and devastation (think Hamlet). In a comedy, it seems as though all hope is lost but then there is surprising success (think Return of the King).  It’s amazing how this aspect can add so much tension and shock to an ending.  (Note: I'm using the terms "tragedy" and "comedy" in the classical sense, meaning either a sad ending or a happy ending, a sad ending typically involving death and a happy ending typically involving a marriage).

Story structure can be seen as a formula, but I like to see it rather as scaffolding, which allows for a story to be clearly communicated. The scaffolding leaves plenty of space for creativity and uniqueness, but each part of the scaffolding is important. A film's ending is vital to good storytelling.  I mean, what’s the point if we sacrifice our ending?  

I Hate Online Dating

I hate online dating. As I consider this sentiment, I wonder if anyone actually likes to be on an online dating site. I'm trying to imagine a person who is over the moon to be on eHarmony. She's jumping up and down, "Woooo, online dating is the best!" This is just funny, right? I'm sitting in a coffee shop as I write this, attempting to smother a laugh. Mostly, I see people who are either jaded (like myself) or those who are trying to remain open about dating sites. For the latter, there's usually a tinge of regret. "I'm trying to be open and try something new." This is usually accompanied by a shrug of their shoulders.  

I think the only people who are truly excited about online dating are those who are either in a relationship or married. Born out of care for the single people in their lives, this seems like a tangible solution. "Have you thought of trying online dating? My friend Josephine met the love of her life after 2 days on Christian Mingle." I keep hearing about the multitudes who fall in love online, yet I actually know very few who have. Are these online couples just an urban myth?  

I've hated online dating since I first knew it existed. There's something so awkward and embarrassing about the whole idea. There's no shrouding or ambiguity. We haven't met anyone in our network of people. We're here for one reason and one reason alone: to meet someone. It's humbling to be sure.  

I really hate the ads for online sites too and eHarmony commercials are the worst. Everyone's so perfect, and blond, and smiley. There are numerous times when I have wanted to give one of those commercials the middle finger. And maybe I have. I can see right now happy couples twirling around, with big goofy grins on their faces. This amount of twirling is only acceptable in a Malick film (i.e. To the Wonder). Ugh.

I can't stand how unrelational dating sites are. How much can one really connect online? It's so easy to cut off communication or to be completely dishonest with another. I just wrote on Friday about how technology and social media has the power to increase our loneliness. I think online sites can fall within this realm as well.  

Despite all of my frustrations with online dating, I am giving it a try again. It still makes me want to roll my eyes (and I actually did just roll my eyes as I typed this). I feel great amounts of reluctance. I still detest those awful ads. I read a great article last month on Donald Miller's blog. The author (not Miller) spoke about her experience on eHarmony. It was not a pro-online dating type of article necessarily, but it was an honest piece. I appreciated her honesty and frustration with the process. Somehow, it encouraged me to try online dating again. I don't enter in with grand expectations. I guess I enter back into the online dating world, if even just to be intentional about trying to date again. God can work in some unusual ways. 

Facebook...It's a Good Thing?

I’ve been mulling over the implications of Facebook recently.  Actually, I must give credit to a friend who approached me in June, wondering if I’d considered writing a piece on the social media site.  She mentioned how much going on Facebook stirred up jealousy for her, especially seeing those friends who were getting married, having kids, etc.  I could empathize.  There are times when being on Facebook just brings up my insecurity as a single person.  “Really, she’s married?”  “Seriously, he has kids?”  “Why them and not me?”  I find myself quickly falling into a pit of dissatisfaction in life.  Now, I want to be careful in not blaming Facebook for my dissatisfaction.  I bring my own “ish” to the table undeniably.  But I do find that the site has a way of hitting a nerve in me. 

On the reverse side, I realize that I present the best parts of myself and my life on Facebook.  I determine the image I want to project.  And somehow it always has a smile on it.  Or a delicious looking piece of food.  If I were to look at my photos on Facebook, streaming from Instagram, I’d see the story of a fun-loving woman, who frequents interesting restaurants, museums, and other fun locations.  There is truth in that.  However, if I compare that to what my story actually has been this year, it would be completely different.  This last year has been unbelievably lonely.  For every photo of me having a great time, there were 10 moments of me sitting alone at home, vegging out on Netflix.  There has been a shift over summer, which I’m grateful for, but the majority of my year has not felt “Social Media worthy.” 

This week I knew it was time to write about Facebook when I came across this study, from the University of Michigan and this video on loneliness and social media.  The study found that college aged students feel worse the more they use Facebook, while the video beautifully illustrates the nature of loneliness in the western world and how social media adds to the loneliness.  To be honest, the findings from the study didn’t surprise me.  I mean, my first paragraph shows two people coming to that conclusion based on their own experiences.  Yet, why do we still go to Facebook when it can make us feel so terrible?  The video seems to answer that question.  We want connection and social media allows for connection on our terms.  However, it cannot allow for real conversation.  There was a moment in the video when it felt as though the narrator was telling my story a little.  I’m specifically struck with the idea of editing.  The video explains that in a conversation, one cannot go back and edit what’s been said.  Through technology, we can choose what we want to show and how we will show it.  There’s a danger in this editing.  One of my professors used to say “We can only be loved to the extent that we are known.”  So, if I am offering limited aspects of myself, the best-of/top ten, there is much that goes unheard and unseen.  That leaves much unknown and thus unloved.  Now ideally, we are engaging with others in real life and allowing ourselves to be known more vulnerably, but if a majority of our relationships play out online then there’s a big risk of fuller alienation. 

I don’t think that Facebook is this evil thing, but I do believe that it has the potential to isolate and dissatisfy.  There is a riskiness to social media that we often don’t consider.  I know I don’t think twice usually before engaging online.  I rarely stop to think, “Is this good for me?”  Conversely, I don’t think the answer is necessarily becoming an open book online.  I’m sure we can all think of times when a person has over-shared or participated in “vaguebooking” (“An intentionally vague Facebook status update, that prompts friends to ask what's going on, or is possibly a cry for help.” Courtesy of Urban Dictionary).  It’s tends to be awkward and uncomfortable, and usually has some passive aggressiveness attached.  There are also some who need to be careful what they say (i.e. therapists) and must censor their social media presence.  All this to say, there are layers to the Facebook issue.  And these are worth exploring.

Comedic Creativity

Do you ever have a moment when you realize something about yourself?  I’ve been having those moments a lot this summer.  Mostly recently I have come to the realization that I really enjoy comedians.  Specifically, I enjoy hearing about their process of creativity and have been reading various books by comedians.  Miranda Hart.  David Sedaris (not labeled a comedian, but definitely teeters on the line in my mind).  Mindy Kaling.  Steve Martin.  This was not intentional, but just sort of happened.  And this week I noticed the trend.

I’ve been on vacation this week and on Friday I made it out to the library.  I picked up Steve Martin’s book “Born Standing Up,” First, Martin is a spectacular writer.  He is not cliché with his words, yet is able to beautifully describe a moment in a way that captures you.  I knew he was writing, but didn’t know how gifted he was with the pen/typewriter/keyboard (you get what I’m saying).  He only covers the first part of his career, that of a stand-up comedian… 

“In a sense, this book is not an autobiography but a biography, because I am writing about someone I used to know…I ignored my stand-up career for twenty-five years, but now, having finished this memoir, I view this time with surprising warmth.  One can have, it turns out, an affection for the war years.” 

As I became increasingly engrossed in the book, which I read in one day (the gift of being on vacation), I found myself fascinated by the development of his act.  Later, as I drove home, I wondered what it would look like for to be a comedian, or a comedic writer.  In reading Martin’s book, I realized that being a comedian doesn’t just mean being funny.  It takes an exploration of what makes people laugh, connecting with the audience, and understanding how to play with their expectations.  I began to dream of experimenting with comedy.  If I enjoy this so much, why has it never felt like an option (I think I know the answer to that question)? 

Last night I performed at an open mic night as part of my friend’s 30^th birthday party.  It has been a long time since I have performed anything and the prospect felt enlivening.  I had planned to sing a song about “Pride and Prejudice,” but decided to add some comedy before singing (nothing like Jane Austen themed comedy to get a crowd rolling).  I really enjoyed crafting what I was going to say.  Creating points to cover, while allowing for there to be flexibility in what I said exactly.  I practiced in my car, in the shower, and as I got ready.  I really enjoyed myself last night.  It was messy and not everything I said elicited a laugh, but it was fun to experiment and try something new. 

I’ve been wondering what it looks like for me to welcome in more of my creative self into daily life.  I don’t have a lot of answers at this point, but I do feel freed to experiment.  Perhaps it’s time to find avenues to sing more?  Maybe I’ll take an improv class?  Sometimes I just wait for things to happen, but today I feel oddly empowered to step out and try something new.  And I think this all started last spring when I began to blog more regularly. 

So, here’s to continuing to unleash creative me even more!  What within you might you need to unleash upon the world?     

Alive

I’ll never forgot that moment.  Lying down in bed, inhaling the scent of night blooming jasmine wafting through the room, and feeling unbelievably content. It was the end of one of the most challenging weeks in my life.  One that you could not pay me enough to re-live. 

In 7^th grade my school had a screening for scoliosis.  I was in choir and all the 7^th grade girls were ushered to the gym.  A few of the 8^th grade girls yelled out as we shuffled out, “They’re going to make you take your shirt off and feel you up.”  Dread plagued us all as we walked to the gym.  I didn’t even know what scoliosis was, but I knew I didn’t want to take off my shirt, even if it was behind a curtain.  Finally, my turn came and I stepped inside the curtained area.  I leaned over and the woman lifted up my shirt from behind.  She stopped and then called another woman over.  “Look at this” she said.  I began to get nervous.  They conferred and decided that yes, I did have scoliosis.  I didn’t know what that meant really, but was immediately terrified.  I’d read once about a girl having to get surgery on her back from scoliosis.  What an awful thought! 

Sometime on the walk back to choir, I began to cry.  Everyone asked me what happened.  The 8^th grade girls felt guilty.  Amidst the fear, their guilt gave me a small sense of superiority. 

I learned more about scoliosis and began to receive chiropractic treatments; however, after a while, the treatments stopped and the scoliosis was forgotten.  At the end of my 8^th grade year, my mom took me into the doctor’s office to have my back checked out.  I remember seeing my X-ray.  I was shocked.  My spine was clearly in the shape of an S.  In that moment, I knew that this was no trifling matter.  It had gotten much, much worse. 

Being in junior high, I dreaded the idea of having to wear a back brace, one of the common treatments for scoliosis.  When the specialist walked in the door, I proclaimed, “I am not going to wear a back brace!”  The doctor quickly replied, “We wouldn’t even consider bracing at this point – you’re going to need surgery.” 

I was stunned.  Shocked.  Speechless. 

At some point, I began to cry.  I didn’t know much, but I did know that back surgery was a big deal.  Mom took me out to Claim Jumper (hey, it was the 90’s and that’s where you went in the 90’s for a special meal).  I remember demolishing a piece of their ice cream pie.  An impressive feat for a 13-year old.

The doctor gave us a summer, asking us to come back in early fall to check on the progress of my spine.  We asked for prayer at church, begging God for healing.  Fall came, and the curve of my spine had gotten worse.  Surgery it was. 

The night before my surgery I was at church.  I was petrified.  Being one who tried so often to contain her emotions, I was overwhelmed by the unknown of this surgery.  I remember one of the youth group leaders being surprisingly blasé about the prospect of this surgery, acting as though it was no big deal.  Even amidst my emotional denial, I knew that having an 8-hour surgery on one’s back was incredibly serious. 

I went in for surgery the next day.  I don’t remember much about that morning.  The last thing I saw was my family as the drugs took hold and I passed out of consciousness.  Being out for that long was strange.  I didn’t dream.  The closest I can describe it to is dying and then coming back to life.  Nothing, absolute nothing, then suddenly back. I remember waking up and the breathing tube was still down my throat.  That was awful, but the tube was quickly removed.  Then, I was asleep again.  The rest of that evening was a blur.  I was groggily awake, then asleep again. 

One moment stands out to me though.  I had a male nurse that first evening, who was incredibly kind and caring.  The care culminated in a single moment, when he offered to brush my teeth.  It felt like heaven.  I can’t explain why, but it was the most refreshing, comforting moment.  Even thinking back to that right now, I find myself tearing up. 

The next day was especially hard.  I’m allergic to penicillin and the alternative antibiotic that was used made me nauseous.  That evening I got sick and experienced the worst pain of my life (I’m not saying that to over exaggerate, it literally was the worst pain in my life).  Being sick and retching when your back is freshly operated on is awful. 

Each day was a bit easier and I was increasingly more present.  My days were filled with lying in bed, watching tv, with the big event of getting out of bed.  It was a huge ordeal for me to get up and walk around.  I learned how to get out of bed in a new way.  Roll to my side, then use my arms to push myself up into a sitting position.  I’d rest for a moment, then use the walker to slowly stand up.  Each day they’re try to get me to go farther on the walker, but my body proved slow to the challenge. 

My surgery took place the week of Thanksgiving.  On the evening of that holiday, my aunt stayed with me to give my parents a break (who had been with me around the clock since Monday that week).  My aunt was trying to turn down one of the lights over my bed, when she started hitting a big blue button.  All of a sudden we heard over the intercom, “Code blue third floor, code blue third floor!”  We looked at each other confusedly as we were on the third floor.  My aunt went to the door of my room and opened it, shocked by the team of doctors and nurses running towards my room, complete with crash cart (just like in ER).  She called them off, saying “False Alarm…I just wanted to make sure you were all still on your toes.”  What a laugh we had in that moment.

After five days in the hospital, I was released.  The hospital I stayed at was just across the street from my parent’s house.  It was a quick trip home, but it took a long time for me to slowly walk (with the aid of my trusty walker) back to my parents’ room, where I would be staying while I recovered.  By the time I was finally settled in I was exhausted.  I laid on the bed catching my breath, when I smelled the flowers outside.  That moment of beauty, such a simple moment of beauty, brought me deep joy.  It had been an incredibly painful week, yet in that moment I was overwhelmed by the goodness of God and with gratitude to be alive.  I cried, which really, was all I could do in that moment.  My tears were my prayer that day.  Words could not communicate all I felt.  Only my tears would suffice.

Don't Be So Picky!

"You shouldn't be so picky."

Earlier this week I was over at my folks' house before heading out for a private retreat (to my favorite retreat house in the desert).  On my way out I stopped by the gas station around the corner to fill up my tank and grab some chocolate (you never know if sweets will be present when you stay at a monastery).  Inside I said hello to the attendant.  She's worked at this gas station for years and my family has been going there for years.  Back in my soda drinking days, my mom would take my brother and I there after school for humongous, gas station sized sodas (in which I chose nothing smaller than 48 ounces). We got to know the owner and all those who worked there.  The woman I saw this week has seen my brother and I go from twerpy little kids to twerpy big adults.  We exchanged hellos and the next thing out of her mouth was...wait for it, wait for it....

"So, do you have a boyfriend?"

Ugh, the dreaded question.  

I replied back, "Nope."  

Her reply: "You shouldn't be so picky." 

At this point I couldn't keep silent, so I somewhat snarkily said, "Well, I don't even have anyone asking me out."  In my head I added "so there!"  So, my response may not have been the most poised one to offer back, but I am of flesh and blood.  However, her comment also got me thinking about a common message that is communicated to single women.  It goes like this.

  

To younger single person: Just be content and wait.  Don't throw your pearls before the swine.  Be picky.

To older single person: Why are you so picky?  You better hurry up or no one will want you.

I read an article a few years ago on this very message a few years ago.  The author expressed frustration over the mixed messages and feeling the weight of this responsibility, somehow being solely placed upon her shoulders.  I feel similarly.  For years, I had the pats on the back and the encouragement to be choosy with your mate.  Now, especially being in my thirties (which is practically spinsterhood in the church), the message has shifted to "don't be so picky."  Apparently, one can only be picky when she is young.  The odd thing is, the older I've gotten, the more I know myself.  As a result, l actually have gotten more choosy.  I don't think it's out of stubbornness, but rather I have a better sense of relational dynamics that work well with my personality.  For example, the type of men who are often attracted to me tend to be extremely passive. They're great men, but I know that with my strong personality I would dominate them.  And they would let me.  And I would have no respect for them.  Although it will mean more fighting, I need to be with someone who can disagree with me (or at the very least, disagree with me on occasion - this does not have to be a daily occurrence).    

All this to say, I think the pickiness effect (my new name for this messaging) is another one of these statements that are ultimately not helpful for single people to hear.  It sounds to me like another way in which we are trying to control and understand God.  This isn't to say that there may or may not be an issue of pickiness present with the single person, but to make that the sole determining factor in his/her marital status feels ridiculous.  

When Two Don’t Become One

Warning: The blog gives away plot points to the film “Roman Holiday” and “Once”.  I realize the former has been out for decades.  Still, if you don’t want to be spoiled, then don’t read this piece.

One of my favorite moments of the film!

Yesterday, I had the gift of a day off – my first full day off in two weeks.  I enjoyed my time, getting my hair cut, reading and watching a movie at home, before spending the evening with friends.  I was searching through Netflix, deciding what film to watch when I came across the classic, “Roman Holiday.”  I had seen the film a couple of times back when I first started college, and thought it would be fun to watch again. 

Of course, the film has such gorgeous settings and can’t help but stir up a desire to spend a warm, sunny day on vacation in Rome.  Mostly, I find myself coveting Audrey Hepburn’s amazing haircut.  I realize that it would not be a good look on me, but oh how I’d love that hairstyle.  Maybe in heaven. 

I first watched the film around the time that I went on choir tour to Italy.  Upon returning, my friends and I had a movie night and watched “Roman Holiday.”  When it came to the end, we were split on our responses to the film.  Half of us loved the film and the other half didn’t. And the dividing point came via the film’s ending.  While discovering their love for each other, Hepburn and Gregory Peck decide to go their separate ways.  I was one of the ones who appreciated the film and its ending. 

Now, I do appreciate a happy ending, but I also value an ending that is true.  The reality is, sometimes our stories do not turn out as we anticipate.  Sometimes the obstacles are too great.  Or the most loving response is to stay true to what we’ve been called to.  I similarly like the film “Once” for these same reasons.  The male and female had a special connection, but their purpose in meeting was to help each other get “un-stuck,” not to be each other’s life companions.

In early theater, plays tended to end with either a marriage or a death.  Although, our story endings take more twists and turns today, there still is a continuing tradition of ending with death or marriage scene.  Even as I look down my list of DVD’s, this becomes oddly apparent.  Marriage, marriage, marriage, death, marriage.  As a side note, I’m fascinated the stories that contain both marriage and death (Romeo and Juliet, Shadowlands, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Waking Ned Devine, etc).    

Sometimes I want a film that just is happy, but more often, I desire a film that tells a true, honest story.  There are times when the obstacles are too great, and no amount of hoping can take away that truth.  One cannot just wave a magic wand around and transform the situations that the characters find themselves in (unless this is Harry Potter, yet notice that Rowling does not tend to use magic as a quick fix in the narrative).  Ultimately, I have a greater degree of respect when a storyteller takes the necessary steps to end the story in an honest way (which could be joyful or sorrowful), rather than tacking on a “happy ending.”   

Sometimes the more interesting story is the one where two do not become one.  

This is Not the End

This… is NOT… the end!  This bride, you and I will rise, come alive like third day morning first breaths of Christ!

These words broke open my heart this morning.  I felt disconnected today and couldn’t quite get at what I was feeling.  My very absence of feelings was telling.  I sat down to respond to an email and began to listen to the song, “This is not the end” by Gungor.  In the live recording, spoken word artist Amena Brown proclaims the truth that opened my heart.  I began to cry.  To be honest, it was a relief. 

A phrase that has been a comfort to me in the past few years is “the story is not over yet.” When I’ve found myself in moments of despair, the deep belief is that this circumstance will be the end of me.  Nothing will change.  I am doomed to a life fraught with pain and loneliness.  It is in those moments that I need to be reminded that this is not the end.  Even though everything in my wants to believe the opposite. 

Last Sunday at church, my pastor spoke similarly, that when we’re in grief, we feel as though this is the end of the story.  This is the lie that I continue to believe.  I am convinced at times that the story I live is a tragedy.  Yet, that is not what my God says:

Those who sow in tears

    shall reap with shouts of joy!

-        Ps.126:5 ESV

As I see it, we can hold onto the truth that this is not the end for two reasons.  First, unless I die right now, this is not the literal end.  Second, and this is the lasting piece, the end of our story, the big metanarrative, ends with us with God in heaven.  My time on the earth may end happily or tragically, but my time on this earth is not the ultimate end. 

Yet, here I am on this earth, in the midst of a story.  And the hope of being with God in heaven, if I’m honest, can feel intangible at times.  Recently, I read a book by Jerry Sittser, A Grace Revealed, (a sort of follow-up to his beautifully tender book on grief, A Grace Disguised) that explores the idea of narrative and redemption.  While considering the nature of the story we are all in, Sittser recounts his own experience of redemption.  At the same time, he holds and acknowledges the pieces of the story that are yet to be fulfilled, completed or answered.  There is a tension that exists between the now and the not yet.   

I grew up in a church that taught and lived out a kingdom theology.  The kingdom of God has begun on earth (this is what makes redemption possible now), but it has not been fully actualized.  There is tension as we wait for the fullness of this kingdom life.  I may experience shades of God redeeming parts of my story today, but there may be aspects of my story that remain unresolved on this side of life.  There is a deeper, more complete redemption of my story that is to come. 

What will it look like, when we experience the fullness of God’s kingdom?  It’s told best here:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.  And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.  He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

-          Rev. 21:1-4, ESV

Sorry for the Delay

Hi All,

So sorry for the delay on last week's posts.  I caught pink eye and was prepping for a week off from work.
 The unexpectedness of the pink eye threw off my schedule.  However, I'm back on track for this week's posts, so be sure to check the site Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Happy readings to each and everyone of you!

Jen

When Did Coffee become the Pre-date?

I remember once getting stood up for a coffee blind date.  The person felt awful and re-scheduled.  But instead of coffee, we went for lunch.  I remember thinking that I was upgraded.  And the fact that I thought that, made me aware of the hierarchy in dates.  Now, I am in no way an expert when it comes to the dating world.  Even though I’m in my thirties, I still often feel as though I’m catching up on this mysterious realm.  While not being a master, I do find myself noting trends, etc.  One of the most obvious trends I see is the act of “going for coffee.”  As I think back over courting trends over the decades, I can’t help but see” going for coffee” as a relatively new development. 

Somehow, going for coffee has become the pre-date.  It’s dipping your toe in the water, instead of cannonballing into the lake.  It’s more casual.  More ambiguous.  Going for coffee is saying, “we’re on a date, but not on a date.”  A date itself seems to have become this big deal, almost signifying that I am ready for a serious relationship with you.  Coffee keeps things in the realm of casualness. 

I think back to the 1950’s.  Well actually, I think back to movies that take place in the 1950’s, and see teenagers at the drive-in and the malt shop.  There was no coffee for them.  They just went on dates.  I wonder though if dates were not as high pressure.  From what I can tell from older generations, people just dated.  Nothing was necessarily determined pre-date.  Do we overcomplicate dating when we create hierarchies so early on? 

Today, we live in a strange world, where there are pre-dates and musings on “the one.”  To be honest, I have come to blame the courting movement for some of this confusion and anxiety.  I was in a few communities where the implied message was that dating was not great, unless the relationship was very serious (i.e. moving towards marriage).  You just spent times in mixed groups and eventually a guy would start paying more attention to you.  Maybe.  Dating stopped being casual and became tantamount to pre-engagement.  However, we are such complex beings, that I wonder how many of us are really able to determine if a person is “the one” (if there even is a “one”) based on one or two meetings.  The more I become acquainted with my heart, the more I see how messy and changing it is.  I don’t always know what I want.  At least for me, it takes time. 

I don’t think it is possible to complete eradicate the anxiety in dating, without the help of your local pharmacist, but I wonder what it would look like to normalize dating (which I think is happening) so that a date doesn’t necessarily have to equal a serious relationship. 

Being a coffee fan (which the blog has proof of time and time again), I will never pass up an opportunity for coffee, but maybe we can skip the charade and just call it a date.  

Masculinity Wars

This blog tends to focus on the experience of women since, being a woman, that is my frame of reference.  However, in the process of writing about modesty  I found my heart stirred towards the implied messages that men receive in that conversation.  After publishing the post, I had men contact me, expressing how left out they felt in the modesty conversation. 

Earlier this week, a friend posted a video tied into a Kickstarter campaign to fund a documentary on toxic masculinity.  You can watch the video here (note: there is some strong language in the video, so beware if you are sensitive to that; however, I think it is used well and helps paint a picture of the messages men hear about masculinity).  I found this video sobering, yet powerful.  One of the more revealing statements in the film came from sociologist Michael Kimmel:

If I was to say what is the major emotion of American masculinity, it is anxiety.  Why?  Because you have to prove your masculinity all the time. 

I feel great sympathy when I read this quote.  I do not know what it is like to grow up as a man in America, but if that is what daily life looks like, then what an exhausting way to live.  

This clip got me thinking of these toxic expectations we place on men.  I wonder, for the men out there, how much are you aware that these messages are present, and have you felt pressured to give in to them?  How have these messages shaped how you live your life?  To be perfectly honest, I have never even thought to ask these questions of the men in my life.  My purview so often narrows my focus to the experience of women in culture.  I begin to see how much both genders are sold lies.  Often differing lies, but lies none the less.   My hope is that as we continue to lean into these conversations, the lies might be exposed for what they are and we can begin to construct true concepts of our gender.  Not an easy task, but I truly believe, worth the work.