- I like to pretend that I am
- I cry ridiculously at sad movies and sometimes refuse to watch them again (two prime examples are 'The Green Mile' and 'Road to Perdition'. After seeing 'Road to Perdition' last night, I balled up in a fetal position and cried and cried. Pathetic.)
- When I have planned the way I think the day should go, and it doesn't go exactly the right way, I sometimes throw a temper tantrum
- I cry. A LOT. I think the most ridiculous time was over a commercial
- I am horrible at directions
- I forget birthdays often
- I never call my grandma or Aunt, or even my mom
- I am not organized in the slightest
- I vent, then think-- [Proverbs 29:11-- A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control.]
- I have to look up verses on a keyword Bible search because I can count the memory verses I know on one hand
- I sometimes cuss when I'm mad
- My room is always a wreck
- I gossip
- I forget to witness
- I screw up my witness daily
- I am selfish unintentionally.
- But sometimes, intentionally too. But only when I'm really mad.
- I lack self-awareness
- I am too sensitive
- I battle jealousy
- I am sometimes not content with the life God has given me
- I doubt God when things get rough
[Romans 2:3]
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Why I'm not Baptist.
There are many reasons why I'm not Baptist. The most frequent, neutral one I like to use is that "I don't like to segregate myself into a certain denomination because Jesus didn't." But today, I was reminded of one more reason.
It is utterly ridiculous that when you ask for a place for your reception (a.k.a. a Baptist fellowship hall) they immediatly hit you with what you can't do. Yes, you're approved, but only if you don't do these things:
-smoke
-drink
-dance
-play rap music
This dancing I believe includes the first dance. I intend to write a letter to whoever I need to at the church. In it, I will say:
There is no need to worry about what the dancing will lead to. You believe that dancing is a sin, one that leads to nothing but debauchery. I will let it slide that you seem to forget the passage of 2 Samuel 6:14, in which "David danced before the Lord with all his might." And nevermind the fact that in Wesley and I dancing our first dance as a married couple further symbolizes the covenant that God Himself has established, and in itself, is simply an act of worship to Our Father, who brought us together in the first place. Would it help that the song we are dancing to has the word "God" in its title?
I will give you one thing. Our dancing will lead to something more. Something much more. It will cause us to do crazy things when we get alone with eachother. It will lead us to places that were formerly unacceptable.
Yes...us dancing will lead to...sex. Lots of sex.
Sincerely,
the future Ashley and Wesley Calvert
Baptists need to learn that certain beliefs have got to go. Certain doctrinal things that don't mean crap. Certain things that were placed due to peoples' personal preferences, not due to any scripture of any kind.
They are losing their influence to a whole generation, simply because they refuse to become culturally sensitive. They want to stick themselves in their independent fundamental peg and wait. Become stagnant in their self-righteousness.
This is about more than being denied a first dance as a married couple. It's about religious Pharisees waking up and realizing they are doing NOTHING to further the kingdom of Christ. Their doctrine has become their ten commandments. And it's absolutely ridiculous.
I think it's particularly RASCIST (yes, I said it) to say that rap music cannot be played. Um, is there no such thing as Christian rap? Are they so ignorant that they can't understand that? That no black person can actually serve Christ whole-heartedly through the gifts God instilled in him/her?
And no, I wasn't planning on playing rap music at my reception.
But what about those who aren't Christians, who are simply looking for a place to have their wedding reception. They have looked everywhere in their town, but the church reception halls are the only things available. They decide to look at a Baptist church first. Do you really think that church is going to provide an opportunity for witness by allowing the couple to have their reception at the church? Of course not. They're going to slap a bunch of rules and regulations on them that are utterly ignorant, especially in the 21st century.
When things like this come into play, I believe it's the image of the church that is trying to be upheld, not God's teachings. They want their church to look spotless, while their congregation has enough grime to spot it all up. It's all about faces; the masquerade of hypocrisy.
We need to wake up and get out of our bubbles. We are dying inside of them, and people are going to hell because of them. Because we stay inside our bubbles, with OUR rules and OUR regulations, and we don't let anyone in that doesn't uphold those standards. And that is just sad.
It is utterly ridiculous that when you ask for a place for your reception (a.k.a. a Baptist fellowship hall) they immediatly hit you with what you can't do. Yes, you're approved, but only if you don't do these things:
-smoke
-drink
-dance
-play rap music
This dancing I believe includes the first dance. I intend to write a letter to whoever I need to at the church. In it, I will say:
There is no need to worry about what the dancing will lead to. You believe that dancing is a sin, one that leads to nothing but debauchery. I will let it slide that you seem to forget the passage of 2 Samuel 6:14, in which "David danced before the Lord with all his might." And nevermind the fact that in Wesley and I dancing our first dance as a married couple further symbolizes the covenant that God Himself has established, and in itself, is simply an act of worship to Our Father, who brought us together in the first place. Would it help that the song we are dancing to has the word "God" in its title?
I will give you one thing. Our dancing will lead to something more. Something much more. It will cause us to do crazy things when we get alone with eachother. It will lead us to places that were formerly unacceptable.
Yes...us dancing will lead to...sex. Lots of sex.
Sincerely,
the future Ashley and Wesley Calvert
Baptists need to learn that certain beliefs have got to go. Certain doctrinal things that don't mean crap. Certain things that were placed due to peoples' personal preferences, not due to any scripture of any kind.
They are losing their influence to a whole generation, simply because they refuse to become culturally sensitive. They want to stick themselves in their independent fundamental peg and wait. Become stagnant in their self-righteousness.
This is about more than being denied a first dance as a married couple. It's about religious Pharisees waking up and realizing they are doing NOTHING to further the kingdom of Christ. Their doctrine has become their ten commandments. And it's absolutely ridiculous.
I think it's particularly RASCIST (yes, I said it) to say that rap music cannot be played. Um, is there no such thing as Christian rap? Are they so ignorant that they can't understand that? That no black person can actually serve Christ whole-heartedly through the gifts God instilled in him/her?
And no, I wasn't planning on playing rap music at my reception.
But what about those who aren't Christians, who are simply looking for a place to have their wedding reception. They have looked everywhere in their town, but the church reception halls are the only things available. They decide to look at a Baptist church first. Do you really think that church is going to provide an opportunity for witness by allowing the couple to have their reception at the church? Of course not. They're going to slap a bunch of rules and regulations on them that are utterly ignorant, especially in the 21st century.
When things like this come into play, I believe it's the image of the church that is trying to be upheld, not God's teachings. They want their church to look spotless, while their congregation has enough grime to spot it all up. It's all about faces; the masquerade of hypocrisy.
We need to wake up and get out of our bubbles. We are dying inside of them, and people are going to hell because of them. Because we stay inside our bubbles, with OUR rules and OUR regulations, and we don't let anyone in that doesn't uphold those standards. And that is just sad.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Deut. 32:4. Look it up.
I cannot say I will never doubt again; I am a filthy human who panics often. But what I can say is no matter how much I doubt or worry, God will always be faithful. I truly know that. All in His timing, which I have to wait for.
It's so late to praise Him now. I don't want to be one of those people that worships and serves God when things are going good. I was halfway serving when things were going bad. But I want to serve 110% no matter the circumstances.
Pray that I will be able to do that.
He is faithful. Ever so faithful.
It's so late to praise Him now. I don't want to be one of those people that worships and serves God when things are going good. I was halfway serving when things were going bad. But I want to serve 110% no matter the circumstances.
Pray that I will be able to do that.
He is faithful. Ever so faithful.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Questionings...
I am currently fighting through sickness and sick insomnia. I am half-way better; no stomach pains, faint headache...but I feel I have to get out what's happened to me (us) lately. It's overflowing; so many things to say, so many things to think about. I guess explaining how I got here might help.
Stomach virus. I didn't know I had it until I woke up with a faint pain in my stomach. At my sister's house, I searched around in the refrigerator trying to find some Pepto. With luck, I did. Then I crawled into Elijah's ninja turtle-clothed bed with Wesley, and asked him to pray over me.
We had just come from hearing a sermon that you should expand your prayers. The preacher challenged that it was one thing to pray for the rent to be paid every month; it was quite another thing to pray for your own house. I understand what he meant; my preacher is not a prosperity preacher. He is modest and down to earth. I understood it all. And I needed to hear it. After praying for finances and receiving a ticket along with $500 removed from my savings due to a car wreck, my faith was almost nonexistant. I knew God wanted me to hear that.
Wesley prayed over me, laying hands on both my head and stomach. Nothing happened. I didn't exactly expect it to. I have been doubled over on the bathroom floor many times before, wretching from the cursed pms pain that comes every three to four months or so (some times painless, but every 3-4 months, excruciating...in cycles, it's odd) and He never removed it. In moments where I wanted to die, He didn't remove it. I have learned to accept it. I mean, if you look at it as the glass half full, He did, eventually but I fight against the pessimist inside of me.
(hmm...He healed me in about the amount of time it would take for my Aleve to kick in after I took it)
Anyway, I knew I probably wouldn't get better. I knew whatever it was would have to run its course, and there was nothing we or God could do about it. I say that quite lightly. But looking at Wesley's face...I mean, it was really just frustrating to me. He was so dissapointed. He hated seeing me in so much pain. I wanted to be healed for the sake of him. I spent the next fews hours in the bathroom, puking up everything I had and didn't have inside of me. I saw his faith die a little each time he saw my watery eyes come up from the toilet. And my heart broke.
We had planned a lot of things. I woke up New Years Eve, sick and weak. Wesley was going to play basketball with Jason and a bunch of the youth that day. He was so excited about it. We had planned to go to a costume party at the church that night to ring in the new year. The next night we were going to ride fourwheelers under the stars and over the land that Dusty grew up on, with all of my closest friends. It was going to be a truly perfect weekend. Instead, we left that day to travel back down to the coast and Wesley took me to the doctor. I had blood drawn, and an excruciating shot was placed in my hip that burned for minutes throughout my veins and has still left part of my hip numb. Then, I slept. I slept a lot. And he stayed by me. The whole time. I kept telling him he might want to get away, for fear of him getting sick. He looked me in the eyes, and he said, with ultimate assurance "I'm not gonna get sick baby."
But he did get sick. He's still sick. He's asleep, fetal-positioned, feet from me as I type this. He's miserable. We took him to the doctor, but after having his blood drawn, he went into shock. He's never been good with needles. He shook all over, and after recovering from that 20 minutes later, he was in no shape to take the shot that would help the nausea. So, because for whatever reason, God created him scared of needles, he could not get what would help him. There was nothing else to be done.
I laid hands on him several times today, in ultimate faith. I know he did the same for me. But we question. We question in times like these. And then I think further. I think deeper.
How do you explain to a child that God decided not to heal their mother who is dying of cancer? What if that child prayed every day for their mother, prayed until they couldn't breathe, asked God to take their life instead...but God didn't?
How do you tell a newlywed just days after the wedding that his wife was killed in a horrible car accident coming home from the store to pick up his favorite ice cream, just months after they had both accepted Christ?
The answer pastors like to give is that we are created to live in a fallen world. Therefore, this world is not a paradise. God doesn't enjoy watching you suffer. God didn't want it to be like this. But we give two conflicting messages.
We say God is all powerful, but then we say He cannot do anything to change things in this world. That He doesn't like it, but sometimes, He does nothing to change it. Aren't supernatural occurences all about breaking the laws of the natural? There are accounts of that in every faith that believes in God. So, why can't God do that?
Well, God does. There are those that go to the clinic with a diagnosis of 6 months to live. People lay hands on them, they are prayed over, they go back, and the diagnosis was wrong. So, is it about those whose prayers are the best? How do we explain different results from the same effect? If a pentecostal prayer group prays over a person with cancer and they are healed, and a person of the identical diagnosis are prayed over by a baptist church and they are not cured, does it become a denominational war? Is there one group that prays right, that prays better than the other? I've heard it that way sometimes.
All I know is in times when my fiance' looks me in the eyes in such utter confusion, and feels so completely helpess...when my fiance' throws himself upon that altar publicly for the first time in God knows when, and has a supernatural encounter with God, and steps up from that altar a changed person, fully confident of what God can do, even more than what he had been before...
when my fiance' looks at me as I writhe in pain after laying hands on me, after giving everything he has into a prayer for God to hear, and when I look at him, after praying several times in one day that he would be healed, that God would have mercy....and NOTHING happens...
Yes, I do question. I certainly do.
Stomach virus. I didn't know I had it until I woke up with a faint pain in my stomach. At my sister's house, I searched around in the refrigerator trying to find some Pepto. With luck, I did. Then I crawled into Elijah's ninja turtle-clothed bed with Wesley, and asked him to pray over me.
We had just come from hearing a sermon that you should expand your prayers. The preacher challenged that it was one thing to pray for the rent to be paid every month; it was quite another thing to pray for your own house. I understand what he meant; my preacher is not a prosperity preacher. He is modest and down to earth. I understood it all. And I needed to hear it. After praying for finances and receiving a ticket along with $500 removed from my savings due to a car wreck, my faith was almost nonexistant. I knew God wanted me to hear that.
Wesley prayed over me, laying hands on both my head and stomach. Nothing happened. I didn't exactly expect it to. I have been doubled over on the bathroom floor many times before, wretching from the cursed pms pain that comes every three to four months or so (some times painless, but every 3-4 months, excruciating...in cycles, it's odd) and He never removed it. In moments where I wanted to die, He didn't remove it. I have learned to accept it. I mean, if you look at it as the glass half full, He did, eventually but I fight against the pessimist inside of me.
(hmm...He healed me in about the amount of time it would take for my Aleve to kick in after I took it)
Anyway, I knew I probably wouldn't get better. I knew whatever it was would have to run its course, and there was nothing we or God could do about it. I say that quite lightly. But looking at Wesley's face...I mean, it was really just frustrating to me. He was so dissapointed. He hated seeing me in so much pain. I wanted to be healed for the sake of him. I spent the next fews hours in the bathroom, puking up everything I had and didn't have inside of me. I saw his faith die a little each time he saw my watery eyes come up from the toilet. And my heart broke.
We had planned a lot of things. I woke up New Years Eve, sick and weak. Wesley was going to play basketball with Jason and a bunch of the youth that day. He was so excited about it. We had planned to go to a costume party at the church that night to ring in the new year. The next night we were going to ride fourwheelers under the stars and over the land that Dusty grew up on, with all of my closest friends. It was going to be a truly perfect weekend. Instead, we left that day to travel back down to the coast and Wesley took me to the doctor. I had blood drawn, and an excruciating shot was placed in my hip that burned for minutes throughout my veins and has still left part of my hip numb. Then, I slept. I slept a lot. And he stayed by me. The whole time. I kept telling him he might want to get away, for fear of him getting sick. He looked me in the eyes, and he said, with ultimate assurance "I'm not gonna get sick baby."
But he did get sick. He's still sick. He's asleep, fetal-positioned, feet from me as I type this. He's miserable. We took him to the doctor, but after having his blood drawn, he went into shock. He's never been good with needles. He shook all over, and after recovering from that 20 minutes later, he was in no shape to take the shot that would help the nausea. So, because for whatever reason, God created him scared of needles, he could not get what would help him. There was nothing else to be done.
I laid hands on him several times today, in ultimate faith. I know he did the same for me. But we question. We question in times like these. And then I think further. I think deeper.
How do you explain to a child that God decided not to heal their mother who is dying of cancer? What if that child prayed every day for their mother, prayed until they couldn't breathe, asked God to take their life instead...but God didn't?
How do you tell a newlywed just days after the wedding that his wife was killed in a horrible car accident coming home from the store to pick up his favorite ice cream, just months after they had both accepted Christ?
The answer pastors like to give is that we are created to live in a fallen world. Therefore, this world is not a paradise. God doesn't enjoy watching you suffer. God didn't want it to be like this. But we give two conflicting messages.
We say God is all powerful, but then we say He cannot do anything to change things in this world. That He doesn't like it, but sometimes, He does nothing to change it. Aren't supernatural occurences all about breaking the laws of the natural? There are accounts of that in every faith that believes in God. So, why can't God do that?
Well, God does. There are those that go to the clinic with a diagnosis of 6 months to live. People lay hands on them, they are prayed over, they go back, and the diagnosis was wrong. So, is it about those whose prayers are the best? How do we explain different results from the same effect? If a pentecostal prayer group prays over a person with cancer and they are healed, and a person of the identical diagnosis are prayed over by a baptist church and they are not cured, does it become a denominational war? Is there one group that prays right, that prays better than the other? I've heard it that way sometimes.
All I know is in times when my fiance' looks me in the eyes in such utter confusion, and feels so completely helpess...when my fiance' throws himself upon that altar publicly for the first time in God knows when, and has a supernatural encounter with God, and steps up from that altar a changed person, fully confident of what God can do, even more than what he had been before...
when my fiance' looks at me as I writhe in pain after laying hands on me, after giving everything he has into a prayer for God to hear, and when I look at him, after praying several times in one day that he would be healed, that God would have mercy....and NOTHING happens...
Yes, I do question. I certainly do.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Highway 49
The ashes of her youth
floated like prayers across the campus.
She was driving home Saturday when the truck hit her.
The last thing she saw—-an 18 wheeler, t-boned, against the driver's side.
Her scripture cards scattered across the highway
recitations that once occupied her mind--
Psalms in one lane, Proverbs in the other.
She was flown through the ring of glass
and collided with the greedy pavement;
her hair framing her forehead like a bloodthirsty halo.
The wind screamed that night
and the stars weeped in silence
as a bold and willing future was laid to rest.
[This was a class favorite of my final project. Hm. I would've picked a different one.]
floated like prayers across the campus.
She was driving home Saturday when the truck hit her.
The last thing she saw—-an 18 wheeler, t-boned, against the driver's side.
Her scripture cards scattered across the highway
recitations that once occupied her mind--
Psalms in one lane, Proverbs in the other.
She was flown through the ring of glass
and collided with the greedy pavement;
her hair framing her forehead like a bloodthirsty halo.
The wind screamed that night
and the stars weeped in silence
as a bold and willing future was laid to rest.
[This was a class favorite of my final project. Hm. I would've picked a different one.]
Monday, November 12, 2007
W.M.C.
Your arms--
like a hammock on Sunday afternoon
cuddle-close and cradling
Your voice--
soothing and inviting;
familiar as windowless Summer drives
Your eyes--
as dark as the acorns that fall
from childhood's favorite tree
Your hair--
playful and messy
like kindergarten artwork
Your touch--
breaks down walls of safety:
revealing as slumber party confessions
Your prayers--
simple, yet profound
like advice before my first school dance
You are--
Strong and reassuring
like dreamy sleep in night-light glow
Prozac?
Nurse Paul asked if I was depressed.
He leaned in, the body language that always says "I'm concerned about you, but we aren't that familiar with eachother, so I can't give you a hug, so I'll just awkwardly position myself as close to you as I can." I came in because I have been feeling exhausted all the time lately. He tested me for mono and anemia, both which came up negative. Then, he began asking me the psychological questions.
"Do you ever get depressed?"
"Um, no. Not really."
"You know, like do you ever have difficulty getting out of bed?"
"Well, yeah...I guesso."
" what does being exhausted have anything to do with this?
"So, do you sometimes stay in bed because you don't feel like it's worth getting out of bed?"
"Well...maybe sometimes, but I think it's just because I've been really stressed out."
"Ok, ok..." he nods slowly, and I don't know if he's convinced. Or if I even needed to try to convince him.
The truth is, I don't know what I am. Every woman in my immediate family is on some kind of anti-depressants, and the last thing I want to do is follow the trend. But I can't help feeling like there's some weird biological thing going on inside of me.
I find myself laying in bed this morning, at 10 am, and wanting to skip both my classes today, despite the fact that I really enjoy them. I can't really understand why I would willingly skip Photo I at this point. Maybe because it reminds me of how much I suck at photography. I don't know.
Maybe I don't like this stage in my life. I should love it--I'm 21, engaged, and getting ready to graduate college. But I don't love it. Not even close.
I'm engaged, which means I have to wait 7 more months before I can get married, which means until then, there are a million and a half things to do for a wedding. Things that "must be done," they say, like napkins with our names printed on them, which are a ridiculously frivilous expense.
In this moment, all I want is to be with the one I love, to wake up next to him, to breathe him in and out, to not have to answer to anyone but ourselves on how late we should stay out, and what fun we can have. I want to go to sleep with him there, and in the morning, I want him to still be there. And, pathetically enough, not having this is making me ache. And yes, everyone says "It's only 7 months, and then, it's the rest of your life! Enjoy the singledom!" but it's really hard when that 7 months feels like 7 years, and your life as a single woman is basically nonexistant because of school and more school and distant friends.
I don't love getting ready to graduate because that means I have to officially grow up. Although I've poked fun at people that have their diploma, then go back to their home town, live with their parents, and work at the local Piggly Wiggly, I can't blame them. I had this wonderful plan (had I not been married) of moving by myself to east TN and starting a whole new identity outside of Union and everywhere else. I'd have my own little house dog, join a new church, and go hiking on the weekends. But would I have really done it? I would like to think that I would have. I would like to think that after all of these years of going through uncomfortable situations and coming out of them, that I can handle anything. That I would have handled anything. But I guess I will never really know. And that kind of bothers me.
We're not taught how to function after college, really. We have a neverending pool of friends and events, and then it all seems to end. Friends spread across the U.S. and even further, and we're left scrambling for that "how-to" manual they should give you upon graduation. The only comfort I'm going to find is familiar arms, but other than that, I'm just like everyone else. It's like the first day of school all over again, only this time, it's "the first day of the rest of your life." I don't know that's true. I feel I was living more in high school than when I've been at Union.
I'm also beginning to regret the fact that I even went to college. It traps you in a process, and there's no breaking out of it, really. Two years in your office, and you'll realize that the place really does have good benefits, and leaving it would sabotage the future of your children you're going to have three years down the road. All of those hopes and dreams you had of traveling across the U.S., going back to India one more time, starting an orphanage in Latin America, teaching abroad, and living in a big city are just unrealistic, and they soon fade away.
Does receiving a college diploma mean that the dreams stop there? I hope not. Ironically though, I feel that that's what will happen. And I'm not ready to be that conventional. I want to run in the other direction until my heels bleed.
I stick around with the little bit of hope that it won't be like that. I will break the mold, and I will work for two years professionally, and then give it up to do the crazy adventurous things that I always saw myself doing. I can't imprison myself in a cubicle just so I will be comfortable financially. I can't.
God, help me.
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