What if things got better?

Over the last several weeks, I've been ever-so-carefully tiptoeing out into the possibility that maybe anxiety isn't a thing that needs to define me anymore. I feel absolutely like a broken record every time I mention that awful "a-word" (or the "p-word" or the "d-word" for that matter), because the nature of this illness is that it comes and goes in waves and cycles and unpredictable bouts of mania and downward spirals… But for the first time in years, I'm actually starting to feel better, stable, grounded, and like I just might be leading a normal life.

Our individualistic culture doesn't like the word "normal." We celebrate differences and abnormalities as if these are the pinnacles that we should strive for above all else, because the individual is god… My opinions there encompass a long conversation for another time. I was incapable of remembering what "normal" was while I couldn't experience it, but now that it is returning in shades, I'm in awe, excited, and overjoyed at what is yet just invisible on the horizon.

Let me just expound on what I mean by "normal" for a sec…

• I can get up and out the door in the morning without worrying about having a panic attack.
• I can feel confident committing to be present at social functions, and look forward to them, rather than playing out the scenarios of how I could acceptably cancel at the last minute without sounding like a dick because I'm not feeling up to it, only to feel too petrified to say anything and feel even worse for skipping out afterwards.
• I believe people are telling the truth and not just being nice when they exhort, edify, and compliment me.
• I can eat wheat and dairy without getting sick!
• When I look in the mirror, I see a confident, joyful, beautiful woman, rather than a long string of explicit, derogatory adjectives.
• I can truly be present with other people, and empathize with their concerns without being concerned about how anxious I feel and how that is coming across.
• I feel confident taking public transit for long trips.
• I don't feel the need to eat constantly to forget about the anxiety.
• I feel like I deserve to be happy, and that that's a good thing.
• I just feel joyful.
• I feel like I have the energy and capacity to love others, and actively seek out opportunities to do so.
• I understand that I'm still going to have good days and bad days and don't feel pressured to live up to an image of a put-together person who has all their stuff figured out--because I'm 23 and I don't have all the answers!

All of the above are happening nearly all the time. I never even conceived the thought, in my wildest fantasies that I would ever deserve and know the life that I get to live every day now.

There is hope for peace, joy, and life after the absolute hell that is mental illness.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." - John 10:10

A-freaking-men.

[Dis]connected.

Maybe I'm a little too enamoured with the monastic lifestyle, or maybe I’m just falling into this hipster, super trendy, minimalist thing (but pass me some organic, vegan, fair trade, non-GMO, nonfat, almond, kale, chia, flax, coconut, green smoothie thing while we're on that thought…?)

Last semester, I remember a little voice inside my head screaming "THIS IS NOT LIFE-GIVING!" as I mindlessly scrolled one-by-one through social media feeds. It doesn't take a genius to come to such a conclusion. Basically since I became a Christian I've been trying to not be sucked into the vortex of ostentatious religious piety and Christianese, because it's bloody weird. An idea that has repeatedly resurfaced over the last several months has been that I need to be less about the world and more about the Lord (Romans 12:1-2 for those who would like a Scripture reference). Anyway, I think I gave myself the ultimatum that as long as I was still doing well in school, there was no harm done. I still wanted to understand, though: why was I so addicted to this thing that was so mind-numbing?

There was my answer: it was mind-numbing. One of my most consistent coping mechanisms when I feel the anxiety starting to escalate is scrolling through facebook. It is utterly illogical that reading the idiocy of provocative, inflammatory comments will give me any sort of peace, yet, somehow, the feeling that I'm better, or smarter, or more useful than some misinformed stranger of the internet has become solace during the moments when I'm feeling my most useless, worthless, hopeless, and out of control.

Questions could be asked about why I don't turn to prayer or scripture seeking the comforts of release and truth during these times. I don't know. I guess I'm afraid of the implications if God won't be who he says he is at the moments where I feel like I need him the most. It also takes a lot more effort to open a Bible or make my lips move with hopeful expectation, becoming vulnerable to the rebuke, challenge, and transformation of the Holy One. It's actually pretty scary when you really think about it.

So, lent. Different church traditions say different things about lent. There's quite the spectrum ranging from "of course we do this, and you should too, and here's why," to "this is heresy because Jesus/the Bible doesn't explicitly say to do it." I've come to appreciate church tradition more and more as I've explored how much of it actually is rooted in scripture, in more ways than most Biblical literalists care to note. Admittedly, I haven't done a terrible amount of research on lent, but I think it's fairly indisputable to say that it is a time set apart to remove the "little-g-gods" from our lives which tend to stand in the way of our communion with the big-G, real-deal Father in heaven.

All this to say (in a painfully typical Helenz, long, convoluted manner) that I'm saying goodbye to facebook and instagram for lent. I anticipate this to be a good move for my spiritual life, and mental health, and also that it'll be incredibly challenging--in many senses of the word. I'm looking forward to embracing a simpler life, for sure, but also wary of the repercussions of being disconnected in this age that says you need to be 24/7.

Yes. Call/text/email me maybe?

What's in a name?

I find Christian spirituality quite difficult to talk about. There are, of course, extremists on both ends of the spiritual spectrum within the faith--those who are quite flamboyant and open about how they feel the Spirit of God, and those who think that those people are crazy. I grew up in what I believe to be the latter tradition, although on the non-evangelical side of things, which makes it all the more atypical and confusing. And then there is the predicament of trying to explain spirituality, particularly connected to one religion, as legitimate…

I've always wanted to feel connected to God. There weren't very many prominent figures in my life growing up whom I felt were truly connected to God, but when I did encounter such an individual, I was drawn to their sense of peace and confidence in God. As a kid trying to hide feelings of depression, holy crap, did I need that confidence that God loved me, and had a plan for me, and was going to be my strength no matter what.

I could make excuses of why I thought I didn't deserve God, and play the blame game over how relationship with God was never modeled well or encouraged by the adults in my life, but I think by this point I've reached the point where I've acknowledged that I just need to get over it, be an adult, and be accountable for my own faith.

When I was first exposed to, well, let's just call it "non-liturgical spirituality," I thought it was bloody crazy. It seemed so illogical and ethereal. I thought that people who raised their hands or danced during musical worship, or spoke of dreams or visions or prophetic words that they believed to be from God, or claimed that God had done x in their life/in someone else's life after they had prayed about it, were freaking bonkers, and if I'm being totally honest, part of me wanted to slap them across the face and shout "control yourself, you're being totally illogical and stupid!" (There's a really beautiful irony in the fact that I'm now doing my masters in spiritual formation…) I had a theoretical, hypothetical understanding and knowledge of a God who was good, but little context for the application of that knowledge.

There have been revelations of that God that have entered the more non-liturgical spirituality side of things over the last few years. I've encountered God in many of the ways that I thought were totally illegitimate before. My heart has been softened a bit to that side of things.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have doubts.

Does God actually care about the things that we care about, or is he preoccupied with his own interests? Where is God when people are suffering? Why does God allow people to do so many evil things in his name?

Generally, the last few months of being at seminary have been pretty stable on the mental health front, and as I've been growing in understanding of God and who he is and how he functions, I've been gaining confidence concerning his good intentions for humanity, and my place at his table--or so I thought.

In October I was on a retreat for a spiritual formation class. On the second night I had a dream interpreted that I'd had a couple of years ago. In half a sentence, it turned out to be a prophetic dream (now who's freaking bonkers, Helen?!) indicating that God uses me to speak into the lives of others when I share his Word with them. Cool. I was satisfied with that interpretation, but still apprehensive--what reason did God have to choose me for such an important task? What in me is even remotely worthy of such a noble call? 

When I went to receive communion in our chapel service the next morning, the girl who was distributing the wafers said to me, “Christ chose you,” as she gave me a wafer. I thought that “the body of Christ, broken for you” might have been a more appropriate statement for this context, but I shrugged off her slip of the tongue. After the service, she came and found me to advise me that those were not her words, she hadn’t said that to anybody else, and that she hadn’t planned to say it to me. I knew I needed to spend some time with God to figure out what that statement, “Christ chose you,” meant. 

Opportunely, there was a scheduled period of two hours’ silence following the coffee break after the service. I walked to a park with a group of people during this time, and sat alone by the river. I closed my eyes in prayer, asking God what the girl’s statement meant. I heard very clearly, “Christ chose you to share the message,” but wasn’t sure of the significance of that assertion. I sat in silence for a few moments, chewing on those words. As the sun was shining down on me, I was reminded of one of my favourite verses, John 1:5: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Then it hit me: my name, Helen, means “light!” I know that in scripture we are all called to be light, but to have that personally affirmed was very special for me, and very powerful. It gave me a sense of purpose and determination to stick close to God, studying his Word, listening for his voice, and following his lead.

Anyone who's known me since I was a kid knows how much I hated my old lady name growing up, and probably also knows how upset and angry I was most of the time, mostly for reasons that were beyond my own comprehension. I cannot overemphasize how freaking awesome it is to see all of that being redeemed by the one who created me for a purpose that is infinitely greater in every way than anything I could ever envision for myself. Figuring out exactly what that looks like to live out that purpose is going to take some more time (like, probably the rest of my life), but I feel like I'm on the right track to getting there.

Just a quick little thing

I'm obviously supposed to be doing homework right now, but just thought it would be pertinent to give an update on how this whole seminary situation is panning out.

In short, I am completely convinced that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be right now. This is precisely where God has paved the path for me to be for this season, and that has been evident across so many different situations. Every day I find myself just sitting back in awe of how he has woven this whole thing together (and that I was actually able to listen and discern and obey!). I know he has awesome plans for me, and the next three (or more) years are going to be the most amazing journey--even more so than the last three years (as if that is even possible!).

Already, this experience has been unimaginably challenging. Starting at a new school and a new job, and living in a new city are difficult circumstances for any normal human to adjust to. Throw in an anxiety disorder and depression and the situation explodes. I did a science degree for my undergrad--the world of reading textbooks and writing papers is almost entirely foreign, and yet I've been tossed into it, being expected to read a few hundred pages a week while going to school full time and work part time (this coming from a kid who seldom read more than the back of a cereal box--mmmm, sodium benzoate!). I feel kind of dumb in some of my classes as someone who's never studied the bible academically, and who doesn't have a lot of "Christian" life experience. Many days I feel like my face is physically being pulled downwards and I'm upset for reasons I can't identify and I just become flustered that I can't verbalize my frustrations and angst and just have to take some time alone to sit and regroup. I've fallen back into old habits a few times and gotten so angry and frustrated that I've self-harmed… This has been SO hard.

But then I think back to four years ago, and even before that, how helpless I felt--days when I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed, but just in the silence of my own self-doubt came this notion that someone, somewhere wanted something better for me. I'm so crazy excited that I now recognize that that was God speaking to me, and that he's going to continue to shape and refine my life into something beautiful and useful. He's going to redeem all of that pain and suffering. I'm seriously getting super giddy and antsy right now, on the verge of a panic attack getting all excited about it.

I mean, even down to the points where I've been in panic mode during class, and have just felt a sudden profound wave of calm wash over me and I instantly stop shaking, not of my own volition. This has happened more than once in the short two weeks that I've been here. That same exact thing happened nearly three years ago and was what convinced me that God was real and cared about me and that I was his. He is real. He knows me. He loves me. He is working this all together and I'm 110% on board to see what he's going to turn this into.

As if it wasn't blatantly obvious already, this is absolutely impossible apart from him. I'm so unbelievably grateful for all of the individuals who have walked with me on this journey so far. You are all so, so special. God bless you.

I Surrender

"Go to seminary," they said.

"It'll be great," they said.

There's not a doubt in my mind that it will be, but it's also going to be hard--so hard…

I hadn't thought much about what the actual experience of sitting in a seminary class and doing the work was going to be like. I've done a bit of emotional maturing since the last time I graced a lecture hall with my presence--usually for about 25 minutes before being swept out of the room by a panic attack. Panic attacks are funny like that. Just when you think you're going to be okay and breeze through a potentially difficult situation unscathed, they like to attack you (they're so aptly named!), and all kinds of terrors you'd previously tucked away to rest take a joyride through your head, mostly with thoughts like, "we're right back where we were three years ago, nothing's worked" or "what am I even doing here? I have no freaking idea." or "I can't be a contributing member of this community or society if I can't even sit still like any normal human being and pay attention without my mind tricking me into thinking I'm going to drop dead suddenly sitting still in a lecture hall and my body spazzing out like I'm a hyperactive five-year-old who's just inhaled a whole package of Skittles."

I know that those are all lies, but good luck trying to get me to remember that in the middle of an attack when everything my body is thinking and doing is telling me "no, the panic is in charge, you have absolutely no agency here."

Today is world suicide prevention day.

I don't even know how to verbalize the sentiments of fear and gratitude that wash over me in a clear state of mind: if I hadn't have met Jesus, if God hadn't have found me in the sick, twisted state I was in and shown me a little tiny light in the black hole where I was trapped, how long would I have put up with existing as a shadow of the human being that I could be if my brain would just work properly? How much hurt and rejection and fear would it have taken before thinking and feeling nothing became the preferable option?

It's scary. I don't like to think about it.

But that's not the way it is. The recovery period from every panic attack is an emotionally-charged reminder of how, geez, even if God doesn't exist, I sure need something to store hope in right now, because I sure wouldn't have any confidence in myself in an emergency…

I'm confident that this "yes" to seminary was the right "yes". I know that he has come around me on all sides and isn't going anywhere. Jesus promises quite the opposite of sunshine and butterflies in exchange for following his lead.

So last night at 2 in the morning after several hours of emotional turmoil, I got down on my knees with open hands and said something like "I can't do this. This is all you, Jesus. This is all you. I know that you've blessed me into this, even though right now it feels like absolute crap, so just have your way."

"…I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong." -2 Cor 12:8-10

It'll be good.

Just stop.

I recently returned from a trip to New York City. As I had kind of expected, the culture shock of going from a small town of 1200 to the biggest city in the country next door within 12 hours was a bit of a challenge. I have been surprised, however, by the difficulty I am facing as I try to understand the culture of human identity in this economic and cultural centre, and the implications as they relate to our perception of our value as individuals.

Let me explain:

I'm not sure if someone coined this quote or if it's just a sentiment that's been passed down through the generations, but, here goes, "If you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere."

Honestly, makes sense, probably true. If you can "make it" in the largest city in the wealthiest country in the world (for most of recent history), you can theoretically "make it" anywhere. Presumably, by the North American cultural definition, "make it" means to land a job (preferably in your area of study/passion/interest) and be "successful" enough to live a "comfortable" life, and/or to be known/renowned for what you do--to have security in your identity and be somebody.

New York, obviously, is very business-driven, being basically the financial headquarters of the world. It's full of people working crazy long hours for "the man" on the top of the corporate ladder, hoping that someday, after years of grind, they'll make it up to those echelons themselves, or make enough money to not have to, or maybe something else. No one can be 23 and work 80 hours a week forever, the same way that no one who is 23 and fresh out of school will ever just magically find themselves at the top of the corporate ladder. The system makes logical sense. 

Similar things can be said about the entertainment industry in New York. People spend a ton of money on education with hopes that they can "make it big" in this prestigious entertainment centre. Except getting your foot in a door appears to be an extreme challenge, so they'll get to the city and wait tables, serve coffee, or scrub toilets for more hours in a week than a human should be allowed to work, to pay for astronomical rent and food prices while also preparing for stupidly competitive auditions that may or may not yield anything.

I don't get it, but at the same time, I do.

People are unsatisfied being "normal" or as they are, and believe they will find solace in becoming something bigger, and living up to ideals that our culture deems "desirable". Of course I wish I could claim an impressive job title at an impressive firm on a resume to land a more impressive job at a more impressive firm. Of course the performer in me thinks it would be absolutely awesome to have a stint in a broadway musical, or play in a prestigious symphony… Even though I might not necessarily enjoy any of those things 100% of the time, how awesome would it be to have those bragging rights? (Like how I can say I got my first job working for the government at 13, but really I was just bringing people papers and water)

And I wish that all these people who are busting their buns to make it big, sacrificing so much for so little time to actually sit back and enjoy moments in life because the potential for a high payout later takes precedence over living in the moment now--oh, I only wish that they could know that their value as a human being is in no way dictated by any position, degree, or accomplishment. I hope they know how much they are loved; how valuable and precious their lives are just because they exist and not for any other reason; how there is nothing they can do to take that love and value away, or make it any greater.

I'm not saying this to detract anything from people who pursue those goals and lifestyles. I feel especially passionate about conveying this message of love to people who place their identity and worth outside themselves (in something external like their job or education) because some of the people I care about the most fall into this category…and I know how that feels, too.

Five years ago, I was ready to work really hard for a few years and make myself into something I thought was going to make me more successful--something that had the potential to give me an enviable job title and comfortable annual salary. Panic disorder changed everything. All of a sudden I wasn't able to go to school and sit through classes, labs and tests. Any value that I placed in my ability or potential to get good grades, get into a good grad school program, land a good job and be set for life all of a sudden felt worthless. With no desirable life prospects visible from the outset of my new reality of living with a mental illness, I believed that I was absolutely useless and therefore unlovable. Looking back, I feel like I can say that those assumptions were unfounded. I didn't lose any friends over that diagnosis--if anything, my existing and new relationships grew stronger since I was forced into vulnerability of what was actually going on inside my head, and sometimes that made other parties want to be vulnerable as well.

In light of that, though, I began to understand how broken we all are as humans. Life is so, so hard, and we can't do it on our own. As much as we may strive to be around for one another and hold hands and sing kumbaya because there's always a way to make things right somehow, we fall short. We let each other down, through no ill intentions of our own. We misinterpret the actions and words of others. We avoid potentially beneficial confrontation for the fear of things turning sour. We are so flawed, and there's nothing we can do to change that human nature.

And then: grace. Grace says "although I regret that you weren't there for me in the way(s) I thought you should've been, I forgive you, I still love you, and I want to move forward with you as my friend", and "I'm not going to shame or look down on you for the fact that you're only human and you mess up sometimes", and "I release myself of the responsibility to do more than I am capable of in an effort to maintain the equilibrium or wellbeing of myself and/or others". The grace of God says "I fulfill your shortcomings so you don't have to pretend they don't exist, because you're not superhuman, and that's just the way it's supposed to be" and "I love you in spite of your humanness and vulnerability". In spaces where grace is extended, God is glorified, and that grace is always freely flowing. So cool.

Sometimes I just want to shove Jesus at everyone so bad saying "Here! Free love! Take it! Explore it! Get to know it!", but oh my goodness, especially people whose identity, value, and self-worth lie in their careers or wealth of life experience. Mostly because those things are so transient--a job can be gone suddenly without warning; a terminal illness could be diagnosed; visiting every country or wonder of the world doesn't make me better than you. It's impossible to raise yourself above or lower yourself below the reach of God's love and grace, and raising or lowering your apparent position in the world won't get you faster or better grace, love or care (i.e. don't sin more so that you'll get more grace). If we had any idea how much Jesus loves us, and how to pass that love through ourselves to all whom we meet, we wouldn't feel the need to be so superficially impressive as to implicitly say "get away from me, I'm good enough on my own and I don't need you" or "my situation suck[s/ed] so much more than yours so here's why [I need more x more urgently/my transformation story is more impressive than yours]."

Did this trip make me bitter because it was a slap-in-the-face reminder of a time when I was on track to being "somebody" in the eyes of the world? Yeah, maybe. 

Did it make me question God's sovereignty, seeing such a gap between the wealthy and the poor? Absolutely. 

Did it make me feel guilty about various aspects of my privilege, despite highlighting the areas where I lack privilege? You bet.

Did it reignite my passion and purpose for sharing the love of Jesus with everyone? Without question.

You can bend over backwards, break your neck, and slowly kill yourself adhering to norms to be seen in a favourable light by society and culture, but it won't last. We'll mess up. Our best is never good enough for some people, no matter how hard we try. The love and grace of God reach beyond those confines and expectations we put around ourselves and call "necessary" or "good". Just take this most precious gift that is being freely given to you, and feel the need for no more justification for your deserving of it! This is the same God whose first recorded words to Jesus were "You are my beloved son, with you I am well pleased."--prior to any of the laundry list of expectations of Jesus ever being fulfilled.

There's a dude out there who wants to give you the best thing ever, for free, and it won't require you to "make it" anywhere. Stop fighting to be "somebody" and let that guy love you!

The surprise

So two weeks ago I moved for about the 12th time in under 5 years. Unlike most of those other moves, this time I moved back home for the most significant period of time in a couple of years--certainly the most significant period of time since my parents moved to their current place. This place, unlike the others where they've lived, is quite far away from where I grew up and went to school, and is also a lot smaller than those places. The marriage of those two factors essentially translates into deficiencies in the areas of community, and things to do. I expected to be bored and lonely this summer, as I just usually am every summer while I'm not at work (and, let's face it, sometimes I manage to find boredom and loneliness at work too, regardless of what the job is!).

---

For context's sake:

Summer after first year: I worked my butt off 9-5, Monday-Friday, and found myself too tired to do anything but sleep on the weekends (but made a ton of money that stretched a really, really long way)

Summer after second year: Panic attacks, anxiety, and prescription drugs had knocked the wind out of me during the year, and I decided I needed to take some time away from work to regroup, so I basically allowed myself to have panic attacks at home instead of at a job. This was not my favourite summer.

Summer after third year: I went to Bangladesh for a month, then came home and fought with my parents a lot while trying navigate side effects and a new mental reality that came when I weaned myself off of all prescription drugs. Then my parents moved. The day I moved back to school was the best day ever.

Summer after fourth year: I worked part time, but spent a bunch of time being alone, searching for another job, and moving. This was the summer that I moved and my parents moved and both of our houses became one. It wasn't very pretty, for the most part.

---

So this summer I was expecting to get a hold of some textbooks and start reading for the fall since I was probably going to be alone with nothing to do anyway--that and try and train my body to tolerate wheat once again (results are mixed so far). The last two summers since I've become a follower of Jesus have typically been times of spiritual regression as well, and I wasn't holding out much hope of having the guts to go out church hopping by myself and actually finding a church community that I would feel right plugging into, coming alongside and joining their mission in this community that I was sort of temporarily living in--this place where I didn't grow up nor know anyone or anything.

I'd been to this one particular church a few times before on the odd weekend when I was home throughout the year, on recommendation from a couple of friends who had been there a few times. From the small glimpse I had, it was alright. The teaching was good, and I could tell that it was a loving, tight-knit community, but I didn't see room for myself there. I'd been to three services and had had two individuals approach me to talk, mostly for all of about 2 minutes, politely acknowledging my presence, thanking me for coming, and offering a hot beverage and a cookie before the start of the service. I shouldn't rip these people up for not being hospitable or friendly, because I'm absolutely the worst hostess in the world and just feel so awkward asking questions and offering anything that my guests probably always feel like they're walking on eggshells. I get it--hosting isn't always natural, and sometimes it's just awkward and hard! Anyway, my first Sunday at home after moving from London, I really didn't want to go to church. I didn't want to go to my parents' church for other reasons that I won't get into, and I didn't want to go to this church that I'd been to before, as I really wasn't interested in sitting in the back by myself, left to my own anxious thoughts and feeling like an outsider. But somehow I felt that I should go there. I put all kinds of parameters in my way: "I'll only go if I get up early enough…" Well, that happened, because my body doesn't know how to sleep in; "Well, now that I'm up, I'd better shower, and I'll only go if I can get ready in time" Conveniently, despite purposely taking a longer-than-necessary shower to try and stall myself, I emerged from the bathroom with the exact amount of time needed to get in the car and go; "I don't want to drive my big car and parallel park it downtown" But of course, my dad's smaller car and his keys were left for me to use; "I got here a few minutes late, I don't want to go in late and cause a scene" Good thing this is one of those churches where services never start on time… You get the idea. I didn't want to go, but I felt like I was supposed to be there.

Then right when I walked in the door, some young adults introduced themselves to me. It wasn't awkward. Sometimes talking with Christians can be the awkwardest, and I find myself feeling probably like Spongebob did when he got sent to Weenie Hut Junior's (like, ugh, you people are such wieners and I am not weird like that! No wonder Christians are so stereotypically lame!). But this wasn't like that! It was so refreshing to find this community in such a small town where I didn't know anyone. And it's been so great. I haven't even had time to be bored sitting at home because I've been having coffee and drinks and barbecues and bonfires and going to the movies and the beach with this group of awesome people that I just met. It's freaking amazing. Yay. And also crazy ridiculous how God just works these things out, how I didn't make any real connections while I wasn't able to go to this church consistently, but then when I am able to go on the regular I get plugged in right away.

And it gets better. This church is planting a church in Toronto, and I'm moving there in a month and a half. Awesome. They had a day this past weekend of fellowship, worship, and prayer for this church plant in Toronto, and it was full of more chill people who also happen to love the Lord, and are doing an amazing job of making me feel welcome, loved, and at home as a newcomer, without being overbearing. They were even giving me jobs to do, which is one of the ways I feel really valued and like I belong, when I can contribute to the production of something. Sweet.

Of course, there have also been questions. I haven't agreed wholeheartedly with all of the interpretations of scripture, and at some points I've wanted to just shout out "HEY! I don't entirely agree with what you've just said regarding this scripture, here is what I think/believe, what do you think about that?" and have a longer, fuller discussion, but I didn't want to stir the pot as a noob, or distract from the greater purpose of this church planting prayer session, and I'm honestly probably a little afraid of what the reaction to a young woman's speculation would be in this context, although those fears are rather unfounded. But, regardless of any theological differences, it's obvious that we all love Jesus and want to serve him and love God and our neighbour, and any remaining differences are all reconciled through Christ. 

One big thing, though, is that I don't believe that this particular church affirms women in leadership roles. As a woman who feels called to explore the possibility of a career in church leadership, that's kind of a big deal to me. I fully feel like preaching and teaching are gifts that God has given to me, and I don't believe it is sinful or out of place to use those gifts for the edification the entire body of Christ (not just the women and children). I've never consistently attended a church that did not affirm women in leadership roles, and it seems a curious thing to begin doing so now that I am pursuing a call towards church leadership. To be honest, I feel like this is something I'll be wrestling with for the long-term. There are voices that say "you're wrong, just look at scripture, submit, and assimilate" and others that say "others telling you that you can't preach because of your sex is a form of oppression, and Jesus was not about that. It's not in the character of God, and it's a greater transgression to keep the light that God has given you under a bucket than to put it on a lampstand while some interpret certain scriptures to say that you have to let a man do that because he has a penis and you don't". I don't believe that just because of this "minor" theological difference (although it is pretty major in the context of my own situation) I should abandon this community that has already demonstrated that they're about a lot of the things I'm also about and a lot of the things I believe Jesus was about. I feel like everybody wishes the whole world would just agree with them and their ideologies, but that's just not the way it is. At the end of the day, Jesus is about reconciliation and living as one body in the Kingdom of God, not pride and cynicism. The best we can do is to keep ourselves educated and informed and on our toes, with open hearts and minds to hear what ALL people have to say, especially those who are affected by specific parameters or circumstances in question. No one can claim to be informed while only listening to voices in concordance with their own opinion.

So far, I'm having an amazing summer--no sports injuries, no surgeries, no inability to eat anything softer than overcooked pasta due to incessant jaw bone grafts, no prescription drug addictions or withdrawal, no major family turbulence, no crippling panic attacks thwarting plans to leave the house or have a good night's sleep, no moves requiring more than my SUV, and my parents are in their own home without any fear of being kicked out. And I've found a great community in what I thought was just desert wilderness in the middle of nowhere. Best summer since we went to Europe in '06, easily.