Deeper Faith or Sacrilege?

For my whole life, I was taught and (to a certain extent) believed that fostering a growing, dynamic Christian faith had to look a certain way.  I'm not talking about the way you are supposed to live your outward (to use the "Christian-ese" term) horizontal faith -- i.e. how  you express your faith through words and actions.  I'm talking about the more introspective, inward, "vertical" aspects of faith.  No matter where I stood with God or my changing belief system or calling, I have always thought that, to be a truly mature, growing Christian, I had to have at least a certain minimum of (relatively) structured prayer and Bible reading time and I absolutely had to be involved in a Church community (though the latter didn't need to be anything near traditional).  And there have been times in my life when each of these components have been crucial, not just to my spiritual well-being, but my mental and emotional well-being too.  When I struggled most heavily with depression, suicide, and cutting, I can honestly say that being able to cry out to God in prayer, no matter the dark or angry content of my thoughts, helped keep me alive.  When I was struggling with figuring out who God is, who I am, and/or how to reconcile the two, reading the Bible and being a part of a relatively traditional faith community were essential to that process.  I know that without having spent long hours digging into the Bible to figure out who God is, I would not have the stable foundation on which to build the rest of my life and beliefs.

But here's the thing: when I was in those times of digging into the Word to figure out who God is to help build that foundation, I, without fail, always felt so challenged by what I read.  I would dig into traditional expository commentaries and look online for historical contexts for passages and read dozens of both conservative and liberal interpretations of passages.  I never ceased to be challenged.

 A month or so ago, I figured I should really try to get back into that habit.  I love feeling challenged and stretched  and pushed to grow in my understanding of who God is, of the way I look at the world.  I love seeing, for the first time, a new and beautiful aspect of broken humanity that makes me love it all the more.  And yet, when I tried to dig into a passage the past several attempts, I never felt any of those things.

Now this isn't me bitching and complaining about a spiritual dry spell.  That's not it all.  Because recently I've been reading so many different things and engaging in an amazing community and feeling so very challenged in my understanding of the world and of people and, yes, of my faith.

But because of the way I was raised and this belief system that I've always had about what a growing internal faith life is "supposed" to look like, it honestly never even dawned on my that the things I have been reading are challenging and growing my faith.

Because I've always looked at faith as this two-dimensional foundation upon which I am supposed to view every other belief that I hold or thing that I learn.  Mostly, I've always viewed my faith as something just relating to religious beliefs.

But my faith is so much bigger than a set of beliefs regarding who or what deity I believe in and then coming to an understanding of the finite ways that that set of beliefs regarding that deity is supposed to affect the way I think and live.

At its core, my faith is a belief that God called me to love my fellow humans and serve them and fight for justice for them.  But that calling, that faith, is so much bigger than just religious beliefs. 

It's who I am.

Yes, my specifically "religious" beliefs explain why I believe certain things and even act or think certain ways.  But my religion falls far short of being able to explain my whole belief system and every thing that I think about the world, about humanity, and about my place as an agent of change in each.  Yeah, my religious beliefs, those things that I've learned from my more "traditional" faith-related activities, definitely inform many parts of my belief system and my desired role in the world's conversation and economy.  But those things I learned in Christian schools and in church and even in traditional Biblical study fail miserably to adequately explain so many crucial parts of who I am and of what I believe.

I've said for years that I believe that God gave us rational minds to help us figure out the world.  I've also frequently said that God gave us the ability to create art in so many diverse forms, and far be it from us to arbitrarily name certain pieces or aspects of art and culture as sufficiently "Christian" to be able to teach us faith-related lessons.  I've never believed that God recorded every aspect of truth and insight necessary to navigate the world exclusively in the Bible.  To me, it's simply a ludicrous thought to believe that a book written by human hands thousands of years ago (no matter your belief about the extent or degree of its Divine origin)  could help a 21st century adult navigate something as (seemingly) benign as social media.  I believe that in so many different aspects of life, God wants us to become well-rounded, well informed, rational people who live by the beliefs that come from that well-rounded and informed rational thought.  There are so many issues and problems we face today that a human Jesus simply could not have grasped and, as much as Jesus being God may have granted this extra knowledge and understanding, the vocabulary and culture Jesus was confined to couldn't have allowed the adequate expression of so many things that are crucial to understanding and living in this world today.

But as much as I believed all of these things, when it dawned on me recently that my faith is being challenged and stretched and grown the most recently by the things I'm reading in queer and feminist media, literature, and law journals, and by engaging in these same communities, I felt like this was somehow sacrilegious.  Like this couldn't possibly be what God wants my faith life to consist of, can it?

Like, if the Bible contained an entire book on recognizing your own privilege, another on having compassion for others who are (for possibly the first time) forced to confront their privilege, and still another on the best way to form coalitions around intersectional systems of oppression and privilege, that's where I'd be digging in my teeth in an intense Bible study right now.  Because my capacity to understand the world and humanity and to learn to love more deeply are so being stretched right now by digging into these issues.  And I honestly can't think of a more faith-related exercise than learning to better love and serve and seek justice for my fellow humans.  So how could expanding my understanding and ability in these areas be sacrilegious?

I know that the reason why I struggle with the thought that calling these activities "faith" is sacrilege, though, isn't just because studying feminist and queer issues doesn't "look" like religion.  It's also because I'm realizing that, for me, what I describe as my "faith" is something so much bigger than just religion.  It's about my entire outlook on life, on the world, and on myself.  Yes, there is certainly a traditionally religious aspect to it.  But it's so much more than that, too.  When I say "faith," I know for certain that I'm no longer referring to the strictly Webster's (or AWANA club's, for that matter) definition about believing in something without fully understanding it.  It's not about taking a "leap of faith."  I think what I mean when I use the term "faith" is something more akin to the terms "worldview" and "calling" put together.  So, yeah, perhaps I should think of a better word for it, but the fact is that the reason why I consider these things to be part of my faith is because they are all inextricably linked to what I believe about God, about the world, about people, and about my place  within and among all of these things.

So I'm going to continue to open my eyes and mind to the beautiful and challenging insights around me.  I'm not trying to say that I'm completely forsaking the Bible.  I'm still a Christian, and as much as I'm re-thinking what I believe an active and growing internal faith life looks like, I'm not saying that I'm turning in my Bible in exchange for Autostraddle.com (although the latter is my browser homepage).

Part of growing up, if you were raised in a traditional Christian home, is about re-examining every aspect of your beliefs, faith system, and worldview.  So many of these things have changed so drastically for me over the past decade of my life; I doubt I would even recognize the pre-teen girl blasting Rebecca St. James in her room 24/7, dreaming of joining the Aussie singer and abstinence-only activist on tour.

I have learned so many amazingly complex and beautiful things since then about God, about the world, about myself, and about humanity.  I've learned to love and see so much beauty in all of the brokenness; I've cried for the suffering and pain and felt paralyzed by the guilt of my own privilege and the depth of my own compassion; I've become a feminist activist and I've come out as queer.  I've perpetually been drawn to stories and lives of brokenness, suffering, and beauty.  I've felt and given myself over to an inescapable calling to spend my life seeking and fighting for justice and equality.

I could sit here and try to list every single way that my faith has influenced me through each of these times of change and trial and pain and growth and beauty and love.  But that list could never be any where near completion, because, as I said, my faith is who I am.  Who I believe God to be, the Jesus that I have fallen in love with, has governed each of these phases of my life, has been the deciding factor in every one of my belief systems.

So when I feel close to God after reading a call to feminist action, when I feel challenged to lookdeeper at my own privilege, when I read a post that pleads compassion for those who cannot see the injustice in their beliefs, when I research and write a paper formulating a plan of action to end a pandemic of violence against an entire class of people, even when I begin to grasp both the depth of the beautyand the scope of the problems in the media that I consume, how could these things not be pushing my faith deeper?  How could I not have a better understanding of God and of humanity?  How could the preparation for and pursuit of the calling that God has laid before me be anything other than an action of my faith?  How could calling any of these things part of my faith be sacrilege?

Rejecting Jesus

My roommate recently told me about a class discussion which she had to participate in which was essentially a very frank and open discussion about the class members' personal religious beliefs.  Of those in the class with religious beliefs, there were several Roman Catholics, one culturally protestant Christian who openly admitted to not actually believing in God (not entirely sure how that works), one protestant Christian who didn't say much other than that she was a protestant Christian, and my roommate, a very passionate, outspoken, and charismatic protestant Christian.  The rest of the members of the class were either agnostic or atheist.

As the discussion progressed, much of the attention became focused on my roommate, as she was the only regularly active and devoutly outspoken religious person in the room.  Furthermore, her beliefs seemed radical to most of the rest of the class.  Much scrutiny was paid to the fact that my roommate believes that whether or not one goes to heaven is not based upon the good or bad things which one does in his/her life.  Instead, it is based upon one's belief and faith in Jesus.  Serial killers and child molesters, if they truly believe and accept that Jesus died on their behalf, will go to heaven; likewise, if Gandhi or Mother Theresa never came to believe and accept Jesus' sacrifice for them, they will go to hell.  To everyone (or at least every one who spoke up) in the room, this was an entirely novel concept.

Now, I have no clue who all reads this blog or what your respective backgrounds are, but I grew up in a devoutly protestant Christian home in which we went to church more than once a week, I went to a Christian highschool, and even here at American U., my closest friends tend to share at least my most basic religious beliefs.  So, to me, the idea that someone wouldn't understand the most basic tenant of my faith made no sense.  We live in a supposedly Christian nation, and while I know AU is very unique in its frequent rejection of devout Christianity, it never really dawned on me that some people here (or really anywhere in America for that matter) might not understand at least the very basic tenants of my faith.

So I'm going to lay it out.  Not to try and convince anyone of anything.  That's not the point, and beyond that, it would never work.  Believing in this requires both knowledge and faith.  Knowledge alone will never lead one to believe.  But I digress.  I'm only sharing this because I don't want to keep talking about being a Christian and about having faith, without people understanding what it is I mean by that.  It was my own naivety, personal comfort bubble, and cowardice that has kept me from doing this thus far, and I really am sorry for that.

This is what I believe to be true to the core of my being.  It is my statement of faith, and my declaration of love for this crazy radical man and son of God named Jesus:

I believe that this world is broken, and that everyone in it is entirely screwed up.  There's something terribly wrong with this place and these people.  We weren't meant to be like this.  We were made by a sovereign and holy God who loves us completely, but who also gave us free will, because he didn't want robots.  With this free will, we screwed up, and we continue to screw up.  Because God is entirely perfect, entirely good, and entirely holy (meaning that He cannot allow Himself to be with anyone who is not entirely perfect and good as well), he can no longer be connected with us like He used  to be.  However, because God is also compassionate and loving beyond anything that we could ever imagine, He cannot stand to be away from us, and He continues to help us and even show Himself to us, even though it hurts his holiness.  So God had to somehow find a way to reconcile His need to not be with imperfect beings and his need to embrace us with His unceasing love.  Well, God has a Son, and that Son agreed to come to this earth over 2,000 years ago to show us the extend of God's crazy radical, heart-wrenchingly awesome love for us.  Jesus didn't come here to condemn us, but simply to love us.  He also came here to show us what it's like to love those around us.  He wasn't here to set up some great moral code, but instead to be a radical, crazy example of what it's like to love those who are absolutely least in this world.  The culmination of this radical life of love was to agree to be tortured and brutally killed, accepting the ultimate punishment for every crappy thing which every human being to walk this earth has ever done so that no one else has to.  Jesus died for everyone, because He loves us all so God damn much that He couldn't stand the thought of any of us spending an eternal afterlife of total separation from all things good, including and especially God Himself.  God doesn't want anyone to experience what that total lack of Him is like, so he offered His son to die on our behalf.  The even more amazing thing about it all, though, is that, because Jesus never actually did anything wrong while on earth, death had no power over Him, so after three days in the grave, He rose from the dead, having conquered all disease, every horrible thing any human being has ever thought or done, and death itself, both physical and spiritual.

I don't fully understand it all, and it makes no sense to me why Jesus would do what He did, but what I do know is that if I simply believe it to be true and accept and truly accept that Jesus died in my place, and I will be able to spend eternity being completely connected to Jesus and everything that is good and amazing in this world and the next.

What I think that I like most about what Jesus did for me (and everyone else) is that he lived out this crazy radical life, basically just showing us how it's done.  He was entirely radical.  I know that I've said it already, but he really, truly was.  He declared the entire legal and moral code obsolete.  He advocated socialism.  He was a total feminist.

That last one's my favourite, and I love how much evidence there is to support it.

During the time of Jesus, women were not allowed to learn the Torah or address men in public (or even in private depending on the relationship).  Yet many of Jesus' good friends were women, during a time when women were viewed as essentially less than maggots. He allowed women to be His disciples.  In fact, Jesus' female followers were the only ones to stay with Him throughout His whole trial and execution; all of His male followers deserted Him, though they eventually returned.  He listened to women and showed them respect.  He refused to condemn and therefore saved the life of a woman with the worst reputation imaginable (she kept sleeping with other people's husbands).  Many scholars believe that Mary Magdalene was one of Jesus' closest friends, yet she was a former prostitute.

And yet over the past years, decades, even centuries, the organized Christian church has chosen to reject this Jesus whom I have come to love so much.  The church tends to pay lip-service to Christ, and then immediately launch into its impossible laundry list of moral and political expectations for "good" Christians.

The Church has forgotten about Jesus, about his radicalism, and his socialism, about His feminism, about all of the crazy stuff which He did for the sole purpose of showing how radical His love is.  In fact, it's worse than a mere forgetting.  I believe that, in so many ways, the modern church has rejected this Jesus.  Instead of focusing on the most broken and hurting populations in our society in order to love them radically, the church seeks out these populations in order to condemn them and tell them how to change.  Instead of picking up Jesus' feminist mantle and advocating for female equality, the church lectures young women about their proper place in the church, in society, and in the home.  Instead of rejecting the legalism of the religious leaders which Jesus condemned so harshly (the only people whom Jesus condemned were the religious leaders, ironically), the church has created its own hierarchical list of morality.

By embracing the gospel of fear, the gospel of capitalism (aka the "Prosperity Gospel"), and the gospel of the Religious Right, the modern church has utterly rejected the radical, all-inclusive, even socialist message of Jesus.  This is why I have such a problem with the modern Church, and yet I still love Jesus so much.  But like St. Augustine says, "The Church is a whore, but she's my mother."  As much as I can't stand how the church has distorted and utterly rejected my Jesus, I still must love her, even though it hurts.

This is what I believe.  I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything.  That's not the point.  Jesus didn't sit around arguing and cajoling people into finally conceding that He was the Son of God.  No, half the time He didn't even want it to be said out loud.  Instead, He just lived his life, let his radical actions and ideas speak for themselves, and then asked His followers to live radical lives too, and to simply tell His story.  So that's what I'm trying to do.

I refuse to reject this amazing man named Jesus, no matter how crazy radical He seems.  He is my salvation, my reason for living, my everything.  And a long time ago, I said to him, "Yes, Here I am.  Send me."  And so I go, knowing full well that where thus life may lead may be crazy and radical and uncomfortable.  But that's ok, because the Jesus that I know will give me exactly what I need to live this life.  I will not reject Him, and I even will not reject the modern church, but I will reject what they've done to my Jesus.

This is my PSA

It amazes me how horrible so many Christians are at being aware of how they come across to the rest of the world.  It really shouldn't amaze me at this point, yet somehow it still does.

For instance, while I was home this past weekend, I spent some time in the heart of Bible-belt country near South Bend, Indiana.  It seemed like everywhere I looked, there were signs that oh-so-proudly proclaimed: "WE ARE PRO-LIFE!" and crosses which were dedicated to "all the dead babies."  Now, don't get me wrong, I really don't have any problem with people having a pro-life political position.  I really don't.  As much as I am not pro-life, I completely understand where they are coming from.  I get it, and it's ok.  But, really, what good could it possibly do to put up pro-life billboards everywhere you go?  Is proclaiming your moral superiority going to be the deciding factor in possibly one of the toughest decisions a woman can ever make?  Is offering your blanket condemnation going to help witness to someone who has previously had an abortion?  Do your billboards actually bring aborted fetuses back to life?

On a seemingly unrelated note: while I was home and therefore back in the land of the cable-having, I saw this new PSA which denounces people saying "that's so gay".  I can't really explain just how grateful this made me.  I know so many people (and I will freely admit that I used to be one of them) who say this phrase so nonchalantly.   I love that someone is finally stepping up and saying something about it.  For years, this phrase used to be a part of my every day vernacular.  I simply never thought anything of it.  Then came my freshman year at AU: I think I stopped saying "that's so gay" after about one week.  It's not even that I meant anything by it.  I just wasn't thinking about what it meant.  It was just a phrase.  Then someone pointed out to me that, at AU where a very large minority of people are, in fact, gay, this probably isn't the best thing to say.  It wasn't hard to change.  And I definitely don't miss saying it (because it didn't really mean anything, anyways).

So what is the point of all of this?

Well, besides my random desire to blog rant, I simply felt the need to say, to all my fellow Christians out there: think before you speak. It's not that hard.  It doesn't take that long.  And the phrases or words which you may have to cut out, you probably won't even miss them that much (if at all).

Think about how it sounds to the hurting and the oppressed and the searching when you spend so much energy denouncing the "murder" of all the "dead babies" and then nonchalantly joke about the "gayness" of this or that undesirable occurrence.

Now, even I find it ironic that I'm writing a blog asking people to watch what they say when I so rarely watch the type of language that comes out of my mouth (when it comes to swearing, that is).  But the fact of the matter is that me saying a four letter word every once and a while does little if anything to compromise the Message which I am striving to live out.  If I started to use language, however, which makes fun of how someone defines him/herself or which condemns an already hurting person, my Message would be not just compromised but utterly forsaken.

So if your greatest desire in life is to love the world around you and to reach out to the hurting and broken people, maybe you should focus less upon which four letter words not to say and more on how your overall message or your flippant jokes come across to the very people you're supposed to be reaching out to.

Oh, and one final note, in case that wasn't clear enough:

For the love of all things holy, if you go to AU, don't make fun of anything even remotely related to homosexuality!  Even if you hold the moral stance that homosexual acts are a sin, you still should not make fun of being gay.   You never know who standing around you, even if you're in a supposedly all-Christian environment, is struggling with this issue.  There may be a gay person standing next to you, or maybe just a straight person who is struggling with knowing what to believe about homosexuality in general.  So don't mock it.  Don't make jokes about it.  If you can't talk about it in a constructive manner, then just don't talk about it at all!

Ok, I'll get off my soapbox.

Let's be honest...about sex.

I've grown up in the Christian church my entire life.  Ergo, my entire life, I've heard the same message regarding sex: it's really great for when you're married, but until then, just don't do it.  However, not once in my life has anyone had a frank and honest discussion of how to achieve the latter.   No one recognizes the fact that God made us to be sexual beings and, as such, you will have certain desires.  I've listened to many lectures about how to "say no" if some guy is trying to pressure you into something.  But no one has ever addressed how to deal with it when there is no guy.  When it's simply your own body wanting something that you're not supposed to have.  Oh, some people might throw out there: "just go read the Bible."  But that doesn't fix anything.  To be blunt, that doesn't stop you from being horny.  No one tells you what to do with that.  Oh, from what I understand, they address issues of porn and masturbation a bit more in depth with guys.  But I guess that they just think that girls, unless there's a guy pressuring them, will never feel a sexual desire...and can never be turned on visually...  Well that's just sad, in my opinion.

And people wonder why I'm so in favour of comprehensive sex education.  Because at least then they're honest about something.  They recognize the fact that it's not quite as simple as just sliding a "promise ring" on your finger or signing a "true love waits" contract.  They recognize that, no matter how hard you try, most people will not remain abstinent.  And so comprehensive sex education tells you how to deal with sex in a healthy and safe way.  It's not a perfect solution, but at least they start with honesty.  That's something.

I don't have a boyfriend.  I've never had sex, and I've never even kissed anyone.  But I still struggle with this on a daily basis.  And my response hasn't always been above reproach.  Far from, in fact.  And I know that I'm not the only one.  So why does no one talk about this?  Are we, as Christians and as a culture, really so naive to think that people don't struggle with this?  That our simplistic responses of "just say no" and "it's great in the context of marriage, but stay away till then" are really going to take away people's inherent sexual needs and desires?

Why do I feel such shame to even admit that I don't know how to deal with my own sexuality?  Around some friends, I'm ashamed to admit my utter lack of sexual experience, while around other friends I'm even more ashamed to admit my own sexual desires.

One of my greatest hopes is that one day the church can take a cue from comprehensive sex education.  Maybe one day they can start with honesty.  Stop bullshitting around and making it seem like it's as simple as "just say no!"  Stop making us feel like even admitting the fact that we are sexual beings is somehow sinful.  God made us this way.  We don't start being sexual beings when a wedding ring gets on our fingers or even when we start having a serious romantic relationship.  No, our sexuality emerges with puberty and continues to get stronger over the next few decades.  Ignoring it doesn't make it go away.

So, tell me, what are the solutions?  And don't give me easy one-liners and then walk away.  Because we both know that it's not nearly that simple.

Start. Being. Honest.

Old Revelations and New Commitments

So I think three major things happened on retreat:

1. I broke down and realized that I can't follow my life's calling on my own; I need to rely upon the strength and love of God.
2. I'll never be able to hear God's voice if I'm not regularly listening.
3. I need to stop focusing so much on myself and where I'm at with God, and instead focus on how I'm serving, ministering to, and loving others.

Now, in light of that last point, the whole idea of blogging about my thoughts seems kind of counter-productive, but I think it's important for me to solidify what I believe God is teaching me by allowing this semi-public forum to hold me accountable.

Well, I think the biggest (as in most overwhelming) thing which happened on retreat is that I finally got to a point where I knew that I couldn't volunteer at DCRCC on my own. The last time I tried to tangibly tackle these type of issues, I was consumed by the fight. I became depressed, started cutting and became suicidal. And I know for a fact that, if I try to counsel and advocate in my own power, I will return to that place. And that thought terrifies me. But silence isn't an option; apathy isn't a choice. After laying this issue on my heart again, God asked me, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" My heart and mind, voice and whole body cried out: "Here I am. Send me!" This fight has already captured my heart, my soul, and my future, and I can never turn away. These two realizations (my inability to fight on my own and my inability to turn away from the fight) was overwhelming and heart-breaking. But I think that it was a necessary place for me to get to. Because once I got to that place, I was able to realize that, although I cannot fight this battle on my own, as my verse of this year says, I have the Spirit's very power, love, and mind within side me. If I rest in Him, if I let God's love and not my own flow through me and into these broken people, instead of consuming me, this fight will make me soar.

For this reason, I'm contemplating getting "Love" tattooed on my forearm (in cursive, white lettering), right underneath my scars. This is not my love, but the love of my Saviour which will stop me from picking up that knife again, no matter how inadequate I am to love these people.

The second thing which God has really been teaching me over the past several weeks, months, and even years, is that He can never talk to me if I'm not listening. It's when I read and know His Word that I have any chance of growing in knowledge of God and following the call of His Spirit. Yes, my life is insanely busy right now. I am mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted; the very thought of waking up one hour earlier or staying up one hour later to truly connect with God seems to drain me. Even though I know how much more refreshed I feel when I do, especially in the morning. I have to learn to be disciplined.

Finally, I need to stop complaining about not hearing God's voice, stop spending all my time trying to muddle through the convolution of my brain instead of focusing on serving and evangelizing those around me. I am rarely one who talks about or even, in all honesty, thinks about evangelism. But, certain people (cough, cough, Kera, cough) have truly gotten to me by bringing one simple fact to my mind: if I truly believe that some of the people around me are going to hell, then, how much must I hate them to be perpetually silent about my faith? Now, I have no clue what this looks like. I will never be one of those fire-and-brimstone, "let's go burn a Koran for fun," wack-o Christians. It will just never happen. But I do know that it looks like more than what I'm doing. I need to truly figure out where my convictions lie, and then stick with them. I also need to not shrink back from the awkward conversations, the difficult discussions. I don't know how to have those discussions organically. I'm very new at this whole being bluntly open about my faith thing. But I really am going to try. And I ask anyone who interacts with me regularly, whether you share my convictions or not, whether you think I'm crazy or not, to hold me accountable to what I'm saying. I will be no where near perfect. I'm sure I will fail much more than I succeed. But I am publicly committing to changing, empowered by the overwhelming power, love and disciplined mind of Jehovah Jireh.

Procrastination, Purposeful Insomnia, and so much Fear

It is nearly 3am and I should be doing one of two things: reading homework or sleeping. Because I have no desire to read and thus am not giving myself permission to sleep, I figured maybe I'd try to clear my head by writing.

My life just can't seem to slow down right now. I have class and work and small group and DCRCC and homework and church and (hopefully) friends and...the list goes on. It's six weeks into the semester and I'm already procrastinating on my homework and papers till the very last minute. I can't seem to force myself to focus, and I'm not sure why.

On an entirely unrelated note: we talked in small group today about God's radical call on our lives, the power that that gives us, and our duty to live that out. For the past several months, God has been pounding 2 Timothy 1:9 into my head: "For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind." I know that God is telling me to stop being fearful/timid/intimidated about/by what others might think of me, and instead to truly live a radical, changed life for Him. But stepping out like that brings so many questions. I don't want to be one of those people. You know who I'm talking about. One of those people who constantly talks about "God," and "faith," and a "relationship with Jesus" and so many other things with such courage and yet such utter irrelevance that even I, a devout Christian, shrink away from. So for fear of seeming like a crazy, irrelevant Bible thumper, I hide my faith from my friends outside of Chi Alpha and only really mention it in contrast with those "crazy" Christians in an effort to try and prove that we're not all like "them."

But I'm afraid that, in my efforts to stay "relevant," I have simply become silent. I am a huge proponent of evangelism through example, of living the type of life that inevitably calls for inquiries and naturally leads to genuine conversations about faith. But I often doubt that I'm living that kind of life. My life, to the outside observer, seems fairly average. I don't talk about my convictions which may make me seem "different" for fear of seeming "strange." And now that this has gone on for so long, I'm afraid that, if I did start talking about my faith regularly, my testimony would be weakened by the months of non-sharing.

I'm sarcastic and I swear and I'm not always nice and I get tired and cranky and sullen and depressed and I slip on my convictions and I have secrets and I don't have it all together. And I'm human. And somewhere in the back of my mind I still have this notion that, in order to have an effective testimony, I have to be one of two things: a) perfect from the moment I was born or b) have a horribly wretched background, an amazing conversion tale, and am now perfect. Needless to say, I am neither.

I don't know what it looks like to live a transparently imperfect life as a testimony to others. I don't know how to be vulnerable and to freely admit that I'm not perfect but I'm trying to live a life that's different from the rest of this world.

I don't fit the mold of what it looks like to be a devout Christian in today's world. For starters, I'm a crazy liberal feminist. For the most part, I can't stand the Republican Party, and I believe that they, in their claims to God and faith, give Christianity a horrible name. I struggle with and often find ways to rationalize away or outright dismiss the traditional gender roles which the Bible seems to purport. I'm obsessed with and addicted to tattoos and I don't always watch my tongue as closely as maybe I should.

At the same time, I have an incredible calling on my life to fight for the least in this world, to bring justice to broken situations, and to see God's image in every human being. I am not shy about my love for people, especially broken and hurting people. I don't just see the least in those whom it is easy to love: the babies half way around the world dying of AIDS, the rape victims, the sick and needy who have done nothing to deserve their hardship. No, I also see the least in the outcast and the downtrodden, in the homosexuals, in the imprisoned, in the homeless, in the gang members, in the welfare dependent, in the mentally ill, in the convicted robbers and murderers, in the pedophiles, in those that society forgot about years ago. These people too, are the least in this world. They, too, deserve justice and equality. They, too, are recipients of God's love. I feel God's heart inside of me for these and so many others.

I know that this is the type of radical life that Christ called me to, but does simply following this calling on my life to help the least in the world make me a good evangelist? Or do I need to do more than that? Street corner evangelism never has been, and I'm positive never will be my thing. But what does it look like to boldly live out and talk about my faith? Do I need to be worried about compromising my testimony or turning people away or perpetuating the pain of an already so hurtful church? Why am I still struggling with so much fear and so much timidity? I try to continually claim God's power, I know that I have His love, and I don't think that my soundness of mind is in question. So why do I still have this spirit of fear that Paul warns Timothy about? When will this verse get through my thick head, into my heart, and back out through my life? Maybe once I figure out how it'd look cool tattooed on me...