Identity

For those of you who may not be aware, I have an online dating profile.  I'm not sure if I've made this fact explicitly clear on this blog before, but sufficient to say that I found I wasn't meeting many new people in my grinding routine of school-work-study, and figured that opening up new lines of communication wouldn't be a bad idea.  But all of this is irrelevant, except for the fact that it provides the context for my real purpose, which is to talk about identity.

I assume that all those reading this are aware that I'm a Christian, unless you just happened to stumble upon this blog via StumbleUpon or some other such web browsing tool.  Otherwise, all that talk about being in seminary and working at a church should have clued you in by now.  It follows, therefore, that in looking for a romantic interest, I look for Christians.  If you think this is closed-minded, that's a different conversation, but having a strong faith definitely tops my list of important qualities of a prospective Mr. Right.

So the other day, I receive a message from this guy.  Let's call him Roger.  The dating site that I use has a graduated communication thing going on, which allows you to get to know people informally and with minimal commitment via multiple choice questions and the like.  It's kind of cheesy, but it is super non-intimidating, and so I generally make it a rule to respond to the first questions that anyone sends me in order to give all would-be suitors a fair chance.  Glancing through Roger's profile, it looked somewhat promising...an unusually high number of references to Jesus, but hey, maybe he's just super open about his faith.  Not a bad thing.

So Roger and I progress through the first couple of steps of communication, and things are looking good.  But  almost immediately I start to realize that I really don't know that much about Roger besides the fact that Jesus is important to him.  And while that's cool, I'm going to need a bit more to go off of if we're going to determine romantic possibilities.  So I send Roger some questions to try and find out some more about him.  These questions include the following:

Besides your faith, what's something you're really passionate about?


What's an interest that you'd really like your partner to share with you?


Describe your ideal partner.


Again, forgive the cheese, but online dating lends itself towards cheesy-ness, and two of those questions were suggested by the site and fit my purposes well enough that I didn't bother to de-cheese-ify them.

Anyway, I was hoping that by sending such broad questions I might discover if Roger and I had anything in common besides our mutual affinity for Christianity.  Lots of directions to go from these questions, right?  Here are the responses I got back, paraphrased for content:

Besides your faith, what's something you're really passionate about?
"I can't really answer that question because my faith affects every area of my life...I'm passionate about everything because everything is for the glory of God."

What's an interest you'd like your partner to share with you?
"My faith in Jesus."

Describe your ideal partner.
"She would be a follower of Jesus, and be willing to submit to the will of God."

*headdesk*

Needless to say, I closed off communication with Roger after that day.  Because besides the fact that his answers were all incredibly vague, exceedingly stereotypical, and in the case of the first question, theologically unsound (are you sure "everything" is for the glory of God?  Even things like evil and racism and bigotry and hatred?  Sure you're passionate about "everything"?), the fact of the matter is that I don't want to date a Jesus drone.

As I was driving to work the next day, I was thinking about Roger's answers and how utterly ridiculous they were in the context of getting to know someone new.  Not that the sentiment behind them was bad...I mean, I'd also like to find someone who shares my faith in Christ, but I'd also like to find someone with whom I could share a love of travel, or of acting silly, or of music, or of something other than just Christianity.  I've met all sorts of people who are Christians and, believe it or not, I haven't automatically gotten along with all of them.  In fact, some of them have literally driven me crazy.  Just like people who aren't Christians come in all personality types, Christians also come in all personality types.  Your faith may define you, it may be the base of your identity, but it doesn't mean that that's all there is to it.  You're still an individual.

I feel like that's the beauty of the Christian faith.  God didn't create an army of Jesus drones - mindless cyborgs who wander about espousing random quotes of scripture to each other day and night.  No; God created individuals.  A whole bunch of unique, one-of-a-kind, never-seen-anything-like-it individuals.  And even better, God offered salvation to all those individuals in full celebration of their individuality - including their individual talents and their individual sins alike.  God doesn't require everyone to dress a certain way or look a certain way or act a certain way in order to follow Him.  Christianity is a come-as-you-are religion that, when taken on, should foster individuality and celebrate the uniqueness that God gives to every person.  Having a faith that defines you means that you define yourself by God's standards, which provide a constant state of renewal and freedom in Christ.  It does not mean that your individual self-hood is suppressed by your faith; it means that your uniqueness is elevated and celebrated and that you contribute to the world in a way that only you can, as God has planned for your specifically.

While the intent behind losing oneself in God is good (wasn't it some great saint who said "I must decrease, and God must increase"?), I don't think that Christians should be afraid of showing their individuality.  Nor do I think that name-dropping Jesus in every other sentence is the best way to make clear to a new acquaintance that your faith is important to you.  A true faith in God, a transforming faith, will shine through your actions and conversations in a way that is revelatory of God without being overbearing or disingenuous.  This kind of faith does affect all areas of one's life, but in a way that allows one's interests and goals and talents and weaknesses to shine for God in the way that is unique to every person.  If, as a Christian, you believe that God has a plan for your life (as we Christians love to say), then let God have a plan for YOUR life.  Let God have a plan for YOU.  Take that individuality that God gave you and celebrate it, cherish it...and use it to glorify God in a way that only you can do.

I mean, if God wanted an army of Bible-thumping C3PO's, God would have created one, right?

Day to Day

I wrote a couple of days ago about living out God's will on a day to day basis instead of trying to figure out God's plan for your life and THEN acting it out.  I'm discovering that this outlook, besides being more practical than the latter, also helps tremendously with NERVES.

I get nervous about things.  My parents make fun of me because I have a "nervous cough" - as its name implies, this is a specific way that I cough when I'm nervous.  Hang around me long enough and you'll probably be able to identify it.  In any case, I get nervous about stuff, particularly stuff that is unfamiliar or unpredictable.  You may recall my recent mishap of texting my now-boyfriend that I was nervous about seeing him, when I meant to send that text to a close female friend.  Lately, I've been getting nervous about a new year, a new job, and new classes.

But, in being nervous about these things, I've discovered that my nervous radar has been much less frantic than usual.  In fact, my nervousness of late has tended more towards a little blip on the radar instead of sounding major alarms.

I'm going to go ahead and assume that this is a side effect of the new outlook about doing God's will in terms of the day-to-day, instead of the indefinite.

Mostly, what I have been discovering lately is the relentless continuation of days.  Days are pretty short, in the grand scheme of eternity.  And, while days do add up over time to equal an eternity, individual days themselves are pretty insignificant.  My mantra in times of anxiety tends to be: "It'll be over this time tomorrow."  Focusing on a day at a time is better than focusing on forever, I'm discovering.

This doesn't mean that I'm not PLANNING for long-term things, of course - I wouldn't be concerned with living on a budget or studying to get good grades if that was the case.  But, in terms of nervousness, taking things a day at a time is my new best friend.

In reality, this is an unnecessarily introspective post to give context to how I'm nervous about my second day on the job tomorrow, and my first day of classes...but I'm not THAT nervous.  My nerves are more like little "eek!" moments instead of all-consuming dread (though that would be a bit exaggerated, given the circumstances).  But in any case, it'll be over this time tomorrow.

In entirely unrelated news, I made a strawberry-raspberry galette today.  It was tasty and pretty...excluding the syrup that leaked out when I tried to check the bottom to see if it was done.

So here's to galettes, and living life day to day :)

Theological Reflections for a New Year

I am in seminary, so you know I have to talk about God every once in awhile.

Today I had my internship orientation (part one), and as I was sitting there in the Great Hall, I couldn't help remember this time last year, and my first-year student orientation.  Last year's orientation intimidated the heck out of me; I was still reeling from the unexpected grad-school swap that moved me across the country, and still sunburnt from a trip to Mexico that ended two days prior.  Walking into that orientation was harder than walking into the first day of kindergarten; why, I'll never quite be sure, but it was one of the most intimidating moments of my life.

When I walked into the same hall in the same building for my internship orientation today, even though I'm halfway through my degree program, I had some of those same feelings of intimidation and concern - despite the fact that it's a new year, it started out remarkably similar to the last one - in the same building, in the same hall, at the same round tables, staring up at the same podium.

Lately I've been reflecting a lot on last year, and today I feel that my reflections came full circle and I finally began to understand what I could not last year.  My first academic year at seminary was the single most difficult year of my life...and I really didn't see that coming.  I was plucked out of my comfort zone by a full scholarship to move to Texas instead of continuing to live in Kentucky, I was caught off guard by classes that were much more difficult than I expected, I was always lonely despite making several new friends, and with my Christian support group 900 miles away, my faith began to fail me.  This is a stumbling block that all Christians meet at some point, and even though I'd heard that it often happens in seminary, I never thought it would happen to me.

Because, you see, I was following God's plan.  Or at least, I had been, back in Kentucky.  That was where I knew the plan, and I was certain of the steps that I needed to take to follow that plan.

The thing is, living my post-graduate life in Kentucky wasn't actually the plan...but I didn't know it.  So when God had other plans, I freaked out.  Actually, I didn't just freak out; I stuck my feet to the floor like a stubborn toddler and wouldn't budge from what I thought was the plan.  Instead of putting my energy into the new plan, I focused on the plan that was lost, and I entered into what I would later acknowledge as a dark night of the soul, when I was required to write a paper on this spiritual phenomenon.

Dark nights of the soul are periods of spiritual darkness, when a person feels separated from God to the point that they reach their lowest emotional point and a pervading sense of desolation affects everything.  But, the thing about dark nights of the soul is that they are transformative - according to Saint John of the Cross, they are periods that lead to a stronger and more mature union with God through struggling.  It's a good place for that Biblical metaphor about "wrestling with God" to come in.  I would say that my dark night started around October of last year, and continued through May of this year.  Dedicated blog readers will recognize that I started this blog as a self-improvement venture about halfway through that time.

This blog has kind of gotten away from its original purpose, which was to keep myself accountable to those flighty New Years' Resolutions that people often make, and to force myself to make proactive changes in my life to improve my quality of living and lessen my unhappiness.  This was a stark change to my previous strategy of sitting around and moping about being unhappy because of ___ and blaming God for that unhappiness.  And so I started writing - I started writing about exercising, about eating healthier, about studying more, about working harder, about strengthening friendships.  I got back to living my life, instead of waiting for my life to fix itself.

What I didn't realize then, but which I understand more fully now, is that in taking control of my life in this way, I was allowing God to heal and transform me.  I may have been "controlling" my life, but it was God who was fixing it.

I now understand how my dark night of the soul transformed my relationship with God last year.  I used to think that doing God's will or following God's plan was a matter of figuring out the entire plan, and then chasing after it with full force.  Naturally, when my perception of "the plan" was uprooted, my faith system crumbled.  Distressed and confused, I subconsciously jumped to the opposite extreme, which was to do nothing and expect God to just "fix" it - the only problem was that I didn't really believe that God would do it, nor was I bothering to maintain a relationship with God since I felt that God was the one who had messed up, not me.

Then the new year came around, and I was fed up with my life, and I started to make some changes.  I thought about what I wanted my life to look like, I made some goals, and I started working towards them.  Somehow, in the midst of all of this, my faith began to rejuvenate itself.  The more I threw myself into my new life, the more I unknowingly allowed God's new plan to take effect in my life.  But in order for God's plan to take root, I had to do something.  I had to take responsibility not only for my faith, but for all areas of my life. I had to be willing to put in the work so that God's plan could take place.

This is what I realized recently, and what I was contemplating today at orientation: the ways in which God's plan is misconstrued and misunderstood.  I now believe that God's plan isn't about knowing the plan and then following the map, nor is it about expecting God to do everything for you while you sit around and wait.  I believe that God desires us to live our lives, and trust that He will be with us every step of the way, whether we know it or not.  Living a Christian life isn't about letting God take responsibility for everything...it's about taking responsibility for our own lives, and letting God work through them.

It took nearly a year for me to go through my dark night, and while it was an exceedingly difficult period in my life, I am now very grateful for it.  I feel that, for the first time in my life, I understand what it means to live God's will in a practical, realistic way.  Before, I never felt confident that I was "doing it right" because I either couldn't figure out the plan, or the plan wasn't working out the way I thought it was supposed to and I wondered why God wasn't holding up his end of the deal.

I'm done with that now.  I'm ready to live my life, and see what God does with it...one step at a time.