United We Stand. Divided We Fall.

So many emotions. So many thoughts. To say nothing seems complicit. To say something risks worsening or escalating the situation. I want to do neither. What I want to do is share my heart, one of the driving purposes I have always had behind this blog. So here goes.

I am saddened. By the loss of life. By the resorts to violence. By the racial tensions and inequities that continue to plague our nation.

I feel fear. Fear for people of color I see on the streets. Fear for myself and my family as we walk the streets. Fear for the restaurants and businesses that just reopened and are now again economically hit. Fear that COVID cases will increase due to all the pressing together of bodies at these protests and riots. Fear that things will get worse instead of better.

I feel anger. Anger that our country is so divided. Anger that we're destroying ourselves from the inside out. Anger that life can't seem to get back to normal.

I see collective trauma, first from COVID and now from everybody watching not just one murder, but continual acts of violence. I see economic, mental, physical, and spiritual stress feeding protests and riotous behavior. I see media spinning stories to create reactions. I see my own paralysis in the midst of it all.

I haven't asked my friends of color what to do in this situation because I don't want to seem insensitive at best, or at worst, voyeuristic. I didn't participate in #BlackOutTuesday because it felt inauthentic. I definitely don't support racism, but I also don't feel right using my "power" and privilege to advocate for what I, as a white person, think needs to change. How do I know what people of color truly need? And if change requires me as a white person to act, aren't I just reinforcing white privilege and power? My heart is to support my friends of color, to let them have what I have, and I don't know how.

What seems most glaring to me right now is the polarization of society. Race against race. The COVID-cautious against the COVID-carefree. Cops versus civilians. Republicans versus Democrats. People versus people. People all going into their own corners and coming out with fists swinging. I keep thinking about how Brene Brown writes in Braving the Wilderness that nothing gets done when people are polarized. I see that right now. Right now, no one is winning. Everyone is losing. United we stand, and divided we fall.

People are trying to do stuff. They're asking. They're listening. They're learning. They're promoting. They're protesting. They're posting. Some actions seem like they could be helpful. Some are definitely hurtful. But the change does not seem to be enough. We have battled racism in our country for years. I would argue that a few advances have been made, but there is still much to do. The only true solution to systemic racism is for God to govern and rule, for the horizontal to be right, so the vertical will be right. But God will only ultimately rule and reign in heaven, a place that is definitely not here.

So what am I doing with all of my thoughts and feelings? To put it succinctly, I am praying. There are plenty of posts with suggestions about who to support and how to support, and if you feel convicted to act, please do so! This is not that kind of post. This is a post about what I feel is, in fact, the most powerful thing I can do: Pray. 

I have no clear convictions, so I am praying. I need wisdom, so I am praying. People are grieving, so I am praying. As I feel sad, I am praying. As I feel afraid, I am praying. I feel angry. I am praying. I see protesters. I am praying. Prayer unaccompanied by action will change nothing, but maybe if our nation collectively fell to its knees, God on High would be merciful and begin the movement for unity that our nation so desperately needs. Uniting in falling may just yet lead to unity in rising.

What Cutting My Hair Taught Me About Belonging to Myself

I liked my long hair, but I also felt ready for a change and chopping off my hair seemed like a change I should make. For months, I pinned images of my preferred styles and asked the opinions of others. I decided to make the cut for my 30th birthday, but then I chickened out. I couldn't find a salon that had openings. I feared I would look like a boy. I worried what people would think.I knew my dad liked my long hair. I worried I would dislike myself if I cut my hair. I was distinctly afraid. So I didn't cut my hair.

I did a lot of thinking and soul-searching when I was on my cruise this summer. (I was also reading Braving the Wilderness by Brene Brown during this time.) I remember the moment when I looked into the mirror and thought, "You know what? This is my wilderness. I need to belong to myself and care less about what other people think and more about my acceptance of myself." I decided then and there that I would cut my hair when I got home, if I could find a salon that would do it.

A few weeks and phone calls later, I chopped 10 inches off my hair. The experience was terrifying, and liberating. I didn't realize my worst fears. I actually liked my new hair cut. My dad approved. Many other people complimented me. Though the compliments bolstered my self esteem, people noticing me so much actually made me feel uncomfortable. But I survived. And I learned something about belonging to myself as a result.

Three haircuts later, I chopped my hair again yesterday. I like my hair short, but I wanted a different style. I asked my boyfriend if he cared what I did to my hair (because I felt it was respectful to do so), and when he said he didn't, I went for the new cut. I figured I could always grow my hair out if I didn't like it. That thought was a huge realization for me, and a symptom of growth. I realized that I am not my hair, and that my hair cut doesn't change who I am. I was belonging to myself!

I have a really good hairstylist and I like my new hair cut. I'm grateful The fact that my fears were minimal and that I could go into this knowing I wouldn't change, though, was an even greater blessing. Who would have known that cutting my hair would teach me so much! Praise the Lord.

Shades of Gray

I'm so tired of the polarization of society. I'm so tired of hearing people labeled as saints or Satan. Seriously! Can't we see that life exists in shades of gray? People are not all good or all bad! We are all created in the image of God, and all of our hearts are deceitful (Jer 17:9).

If I channel my Brene Brown and reflect on her book Braving the Wilderness, I'd say that the root issue of this polarization of society is fear. It's easier to pigeonhole people and label them than it is to accept that people are fallible, that they might disagree with us, that we might disagree with them. It is easier to see people as stagnant than as capable of growth, because then we might have to grow. 

Truth always exists, and there is a place for confronting lies and telling things like they are. But seriously, can we not let some things go?  I'm not saying we all have to agree. I just wish we could all get along and have some grace and appreciation of one another and our differences. I wish we could be authentic and genuine with one another without fear of recoil or backlash or getting sued for goodness' sake!

As a former black-and-whiter, I still have strong beliefs and preferences, especially when it comes to my faith in Jesus for salvation. But I don't want a Bible-basher, a polarizer, a labeler, a pigeon-holer. Rather, I want to see people as the intricately wonderfully created people they are, people capable of good and evil, people capable of growth and change and redemption. 

I know who I am. I know Whose I am. I don't need to be afraid. Because of that, I'm making an effort to see people in shades of gray,and the world in shades of color, for much of the beauty of life lies there.

Scary Things I've Done Lately

In the nature of embracing fears, I thought I'd share just a few scary things I've done lately to live life free:

(Here's a list I previously made.)

I cut my hair. To be precise, I cut 10 inches off my hair. 

I've cut my hair before. But this time I was afraid. I was afraid of what others would think, specifically my dad. I was afraid I wouldn't like it. I was afraid I'd look ugly. I was afraid I wouldn't feel like myself. But then on the cruise I had this flash of inspiration that I'd be myself, haircut or not. I could belong to myself (Cue Brene Brown's Braving the Wilderness book, which I was reading at the time) and to God, long- or short-haired. So I did it. 

In hindsight, I'm glad I cut my hair now. The hairdresser did a great job and styling my hair now is fast easy and convenient. I've received a lot of compliments. Even my dad says he likes the cut. I like it so much I think I might even keep it this way for awhile. But I wouldn't have known the joys of my new 'do without facing my fears of it.

I've been speaking my mind more. This can get me into trouble, and I definitely need to speak the truth in love (Eph 4:15). But I'm tired of being the quiet, meek girl in the back row pew pretending to be dumb. (Cue Matt Chandler's exhortation in his Beautiful Design sermon series.) I've got an opinion and I'm trying to learn to share it, albeit respectfully.

I climbed a mountain. This is a traditional hike for my family, but I haven't done it in a while. The trail was steep and the terrain loose and scary. Mom told me to look down and see how far we'd come. Since my fear of heights has grown as I've aged, I just kept looking up until I got to our final destination, and I made it. I looked down only on the return hike, because I had to.

Embracing fear doesn't always pay off. Sometimes it results in hurt (physical, mental, and/or emotional), hangups, and heartbreak. But in the long run, if I want to live life free, I've got to take some risks and feel some pain. In the face of that pain, victories like these feel even more freeing and joyful.

Friends, has embracing fear and/or taking risks brought joy to you lately? Please share your experiences in the comments section.

Social Media as Catalyst, Not Connection

I've felt extra lonely lately. And I've noticed that when I'm really lonely, I scroll social media for hours. (Okay, maybe I do this when I'm bored, too.) I scroll looking for something to touch my heart, for something to impact my mind, for something to make me feel less alone. You know what? It doesn't work.

Brene Brown writes in her book, Braving the Wilderness that social media is a catalyst for connection, but not a substitute for community. “Face-to-face connection is imperative in our true belonging practice,” she writes (p. 140). Man, I think she's right.

When I've had a long day at work, when I'm tired and alone and just want someone to understand, I scroll. I look for belonging. And most of the time I don't find it. What I mostly find are beautiful lives, lived in beautiful places, with a beautiful lack of struggle. There's some honesty, but most of what I see is the reverse of what I have, and it makes me angry and envious and more tired.

On the other hand, when I actually get out in community, when I force myself to make face-to-face connections, I come home tired and exhausted, but a good tired and exhausted. I find that I don't want or need to check Instagram or Facebook or Pinterest. I'm content, ready to shower, eat my snack, and head to bed. I've had my fill. I've filled and been filled, and I'm ready to accept my aloneness, to belong to myself and live my own life without comparison.

Social media isn't bad. There is some real and great and honest stuff out there. But overusing social media is bad, at least for me. When I try to make it something it's not, a substitute for community, it fails. I fail.

So here's to using social media as a catalyst, not a connection. To connecting with real humans, with real hearts, in real places. To experiencing the beauty that is life lived with real people, even if that includes real struggle.