When I was in middle school, specifically 7^th grade, my group of lunchtime friends included a girl named Kelsey Tennant. We weren’t particularly close, but her bright eyes and sharp wit made her a welcome addition to the sass masters I sat with at the lunch table. After 7^th grade, Kelsey and I did not keep in touch in any meaningful capacity.

In March 2017, I found out over social media that Kelsey had been strangled to death in her apartment by a man who had broken in. She was nineteen. The thing that stuck in my mind the most was how physically small Kelsey was. Her aggressor could have easily been twice her size. He could have easily gotten away without resorting to murder. It all seemed needless.

I have not been a stranger to death throughout my life. I have lost several family members and friends to sickness, addiction, murder, and accidents. It can loom over me. I often think of the people outside of my personal social circle who have been lost, such as the five NSU students who died in a car crash and the innocent people gunned down on the streets of Vegas. It is a lot to live on this earth, and it is easy to feel powerless to be a force for good.

And yet. And yet.

“Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy- meditate on these things.” – Philippians 4:8

In my profile on the Wesley’s website, I list the simple phrase “choose joy” as advice I would pass on to fellow students. I feel like this phrase is not always popular, in the implication that choosing joy is as simple as choosing joy, that those who suffer depression cannot flip a switch on their mental health and “get better”. I agree with that sentiment.

But that is also not what I mean when I say “choose joy”, because I believe that joy is different from happiness, not unlike how depression is not sadness, but rather the lack of feeling. Happiness and sadness, they are emotions; they come and go and change with the seasons. But joy is something that is in you. And it is in me. When I am feeling it, I feel it course through my veins and swell in my chest and fill my lungs with laughter. That is the idea behind Philippians 4:8. If God is in you, then joy is in you, because God is joy (I think they call that the transitive property in math).

Joy, like so many spiritual concepts, is a muscle. If you do not take care of it, do not exercise it and do not take in the proper things, it becomes weak. I encourage you to find whatever things that are beautiful. Submerge yourself, and your joy will be strong as iron.

One of our most important pillars in Christianity is to forgive others as God forgave us, to summarize Colossians 3:13.

So important, in fact, that in order for God to forgive our sins we must also forgive anything we have against anyone (Mark 11:25). Our entire faith is based on the acceptance that we are human and therefore imperfect and need God’s grace and forgiveness in order to separate ourselves from our imperfections until we are eventually completely free.

So, it is vital that we understand forgiveness and what it truly means for us as Christians.

Something I hear a lot in sermons about forgiveness is that forgiveness is “for you, not for them”, the point being that holding a grudge is ultimately more harmful to the wronged than the wrongdoer, and forgiving and letting go is the way to be free of the emotional power the wrongdoer has. I agree with this.

However, I still believe there is a fundamental misunderstanding of what forgiveness entails after the fact.

We are not God; we do not have the ability to wash away sins, plain and simple. That is the difference between our forgiveness and His. This is precisely why we hear forgiveness is, again, “for you, not for them”. This is important because it is in opposition to what is at times expected of the Christian community. That we should be unconditionally, absolutely, totally forgiving.

But there is a line, isn’t there? There is no question that toxicity is present in people. Generally, I prefer to see the good in people. Life is hard and unfair and emotions are difficult to sort out and I do my best to be an encourager.

But there is a line, isn’t there?

People will take from you, tear you down, suck you dry, leave you for dead. Learn to know what that looks like. Forgiveness is shedding the power someone has over you. Sometimes that means shedding the person themselves.

Do not be afraid to trim the fat.

They are not your responsibility.

Thank you.

 

    1 Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?

(Lord, hear my prayer.)

2 O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer;

    and by night, but find no rest.

(Lord, hear my prayer.)

3 Yet you are holy,

    enthroned on the praises of Israel.

(Lord, You are holy.)

4 In you our ancestors trusted;

    they trusted, and you delivered them.

(Lord, in You alone, we trust.)

5 To you they cried, and were saved;

    in you they trusted, and were not put to shame.

(Lord, to You be the Glory.)

6 But I am a worm, and not human;

    scorned by others, and despised by the people.

(Lord, hear my anguish.)

7 All who see me mock at me;

    they make mouths at me, they shake their heads;

(Lord, grant me strength.)

8 “Commit your cause to the Lord; let him deliver—

    let him rescue the one in whom he delights!”

(Lord, in You alone, we trust.)

9 Yet it was you who took me from the womb;

    you kept me safe on my mother’s breast.

(Lord, to You be the Glory.)

10 On you I was cast from my birth,

    and since my mother bore me you have been my God.

(Lord, in You alone, we trust.)

11 Do not be far from me,

    for trouble is near

    and there is no one to help.

(Lord, quell my fear.)

12 Many bulls encircle me,

    strong bulls of Bashan surround me;

(Lord, quell my fear.)

13 they open wide their mouths at me,

    like a ravening and roaring lion.

(Lord, hear my prayer.)

14 I am poured out like water,

    and all my bones are out of joint;

my heart is like wax;

    it is melted within my breast;

(Lord, quell my fear.)

15 my mouth is dried up like a potsherd,

    and my tongue sticks to my jaws;

    you lay me in the dust of death.

(Lord, hear my anguish.)

16 For dogs are all around me;

    a company of evildoers encircles me.

My hands and feet have shriveled;

(Lord, hear my anguish.)

17 I can count all my bones.

They stare and gloat over me;

18 they divide my clothes among themselves,

    and for my clothing they cast lots.

(Lord, hear my prayer.)

19 But you, O Lord, do not be far away!

    O my help, come quickly to my aid!

(Lord, to You be the Glory.)

20 Deliver my soul from the sword,

    my life from the power of the dog!

21     Save me from the mouth of the lion!

(Lord, in You alone, we trust.)

“Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary;

Pure and holy, tried and true.

With thanksgiving, I’ll be a living

Sanctuary for You.”

 

It’s the song most often stuck in my head, most often hummed as I work, and most often (kindly) shushed by my husband. There’s something about the hymn that sticks with me.

Though I was raised attending three church services per week, it has taken until very recently for me to settle into God’s love. My family gave me the best foundation possible, but I think grace is the kind of thing you have to experience and claim for yourself. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least, to accept (I can barely cope with someone complimenting my outfit… How am I supposed to embrace the Creator’s love for me?). It requires me to be vulnerable and to recognize that my self-deprecation is not the same thing as the mature humility needed to take God’s hand and walk, but I am beginning to understand.

As I’ve grown more comfortable taking refuge in God, I’ve felt a push. Well, sometimes it’s less of a push and more of a shove. It’s a reminder that I am not here for myself, that God does not fill my cup for me to hoard, but to serve.

I’m sure most of you have heard of the #nofilter movement? The concept: followers on social media platforms are given a glimpse into the barefaced, authentic reality of another person. It’s similar to #nomakeup in that it seeks to dismantle the destructive ideals usually represented as the norm on social media. It’s a reminder that everyone is human and, therefore, flawed.

Sometimes, while I’m busy praising myself for coming to God with “no filter”, I forget to empathize with those who come to me exposed, raw, and honest.

I sidestep the anxious.

I brush off the upset.

I internally criticize what I see as oversharing.

And I fail to consider until convicted how hurt I would be if God viewed me that way. If my God wished to hold me at an arm’s distance, or held back cringes, or rolled Their eyes at my problems.

So I’m calling on the Lord to prepare me to be a sanctuary, to make me an instrument through which those who need can find refuge.

Prepare my cup to pour out daily.

Turn this little light of mine into a candle in the window.

The hardest part of any project is to begin.

Starting the first paragraph of an essay, getting up in the early morning hours for a run, or forcing yourself to start a conversation with someone you’ve just met. The results of running or writing or meeting new people can change our lives, but it’s so difficult to take the first step to do the work.

It’s uncomfortable to put ourselves out there, and our beds are so much warmer than outside before the sun is up. The fact remains, though, that any work worth doing is most likely going to take us out of our comfort zone.

During our Table Talks at the NSU Wesley Foundation, we speak a lot about what it means to be a member of the church. Some of us grew up in the church and others are just starting our journey with the church here, at the Wesley.

For some of us, the church was a distant but looming organization that was interacted with only on occasion, and for others it represented a family and a place to search for and discover God as well as define ourselves.

For me, neither of those answers truly fit.

I grew up immersed in some form or another of church. My family ended up changing churches several times throughout my life, I was always a member somewhere. I enjoyed debating with my youth pastor, I loved attending potlucks and youth events with my friends, and I even liked spending time with the older ladies who wanted to hear all about school and what I wanted to be when I grew up.

The problem came when I had to sit alone with God, at the altar or in my seat in the back row and consider a verse we’d learned about cultivating a relationship with God- when I had to confront my own dissatisfaction with that relationship. In those moments I was faced with my anger toward God and my unwillingness to have a relationship at all, let alone put in the work to pull God closer.

Facing this anger seemed daunting. I knew that I couldn’t tell my youth pastor, or my parents…

Anyone.

Even the little old ladies who had loved to hear about my plans to be an Archaeologist would have rebuked me. I knew deep down that if I confessed a resentment toward the God they’d taught me I should love, I’d be met with the obstinate belief that I was the problem, not God or the way we believed.

They wouldn’t understand that anger anyway, because there was something I knew, and God knew, but the ladies and my pastor didn’t: I was gay. And even at a young age I knew the church would ultimately be a very unforgiving place.

Usually, during Table Talk, we conclude that we can’t shy away from the fact that the church it is falling short and that it’s our responsibility to build it back up again. We decide to make our amplification of God’s love louder than other people’s hate and bigotry.  There is an unspoken understanding, however, that things are much more complex than a few people’s commitment to love.

The basis of our conclusion is very true. God’s love is transformative. However, accepting God’s grace and love and deciding to emulate it is hard work. But it’s work worth doing. Love is a choice. It was a choice that, when I was a 13-year-old wanna be Indiana Jones, I didn’t know how to make.

The first step is making our love louder than hate, but the second step is teaching people how to begin the work of choosing love.

And giving them a place where they feel like they can.

There was a period of time through most of high school and the first year or so of college where I watched as many different movies and TV shows as I could, even kept an ongoing list.

As someone who is at least basely interested in working in this medium, why shouldn’t I consume as much of the existing material as I could, in order to gain a foundation of knowledge of these mechanics?

This makes sense on an intellectual level, but I eventually found that I was worse off for this, emotionally and spiritually speaking. As it turns out, stories about people with great depression and/or hatred are not exactly comfort food for the soul, no matter how highly regarded they may be in the critical world. Now I am much more selective and have chosen to mostly watch things that are generally more positive. I bring this up because it opens a conversation about the quantity of knowledge versus the quality of knowledge.

When we get immersed in one particular subject, it’s easy to lose sight of what drew us there to begin with. This applies not just to entertainment, but every field of study, including theology. I’ve known many Christians who can school yours truly on the amount of Bible verses they know, but lack a certain passion for God that I believe is so important to our spiritual walk. It’s easy to get caught up in the knowing and focus less on the feeling, so to speak. Having an encyclopedia-like knowledge of the Bible is not as important as knowing how to use it, because at the end of the day the Word of God is a tool and not a textbook.

This writing is not anti-knowledge, and neither is God anti-knowledge (see Proverbs 1:7, 15:14, 18:15, 20:15, Psalms 119:66, etc., etc.). However, I encourage you take a moment to step back and reflect on why you study what you study, if it makes you happy, and if it brings you closer to God.

If not, why not?

Adjust accordingly.

Thank you.