Thoughts on Sexual Purity

    I never had to worry about church advising me that “Sex is bad.”  In fact, in my youth group, we talked about it every February.  We called it “Purity Month.”  They noted that sex is God’s plan, but it is designed for the context of marriage.  This is a raw entry concerning my journey into how to navigate relationships.  I have been known to have never had sex; and yet, the truth is the struggle to remain pure is harder than what it appears to be.  Especially when you find someone of interest.  So, without further adieu, here are my thoughts, struggles, and my understanding of how relationships have to be more than just about myself.

     I started going to youth group at 13-years-old, but didn’t have my first crush until I was 15-years-old.  The sexual part of a relationship didn’t appeal to me, because I was taught that a relationship needed to be grounded in the knowing the person (and following God) first, before knowing someone physically.  Dating was a precursor for marriage, not something social to do - so I already made up my mind that during high school, I would refrain from dating.  If I wasn’t old enough to marry, then why date? (By the way, I am not saying that the convictions I followed for myself don’t have to be the law for others; however, with wisdom, prayer and the Word, it is important to understand one’s boundaries and follow accordingly.)  

     College started seeing a change.  After all, I was an adult, and I was free from my limitation of “no dating.”  However, no one came by that a mutual attraction was found.  Sure, I had a couple crushes, but they were not reciprocated.  Not many showed interest in me, and the few that did, I did not find them interesting.  (A little harsh?)  I do remember writing a list at 22-years-old, identifying qualities that I wanted in a husband (I edited this list three years later, asking God what I should be looking for...definitely more substantial, because I received His input on what I should be looking for).  I figured that by 28 years, I would be married.  Yeah, things didn’t turn out that way.  I am almost 29-years-old, and honestly, there is someone who I am interested in.  He admitted that he has been thinking of me, too.  However, with prayer, we decided that now is the time to focus on God, and stay as friends.  At least for now, with the agreement that we would still talk periodically.

     That is the short story.  Cultivating sexual purity has been easy for me - mainly because there hasn’t been anyone in the picture.  However, when I look at my teens and through my twenties, I am finding that sexual purity is more complicated than I ever imagined.  Especially when someone is in mind.  The reality is that I have had to ask myself WHY am I attracted to this person, and WHY am I wanting to be in a relationship at this moment.  

     Here’s the truth: in the process of desiring to be married, I have found that my ideas of marriage have supported more of a notion of what my man could do for me, rather than a mutual love based in Christ. (I say this as a Christian!)  

        *The list I wrote at 22 mentioned specific things in a man, either had complete agreement with interests (i.e. athletics, music, loves the outdoors), or asking that God would give my future husband abilities that I felt I did not have (for example, I wanted a husband that could cook, because I didn’t know how to cook).

        *I have wanted to be held by a man, because I miss having hugs.  I grew up in a church where everyone hugged.  I don’t get hugs anymore, and living alone can sometimes make that want more.

        *I wanted someone who I can share all my thoughts, hopes, and dreams.

        *I have never visualized the act of it, but the desire for sex in the context of marriage (because, I know very well that sex outside of marriage is a sin) has become more wanting...the idea of a mutual giving of one another sounds amazing.

     There are some things in this little list that one may question, “What’s wrong with that?”  Don’t I want a husband where we have similar interests?  Sure, but if I want everything to be the same, I mine as well marry myself.  The truth is, having some differences might be the strengths in the areas of my weaknesses (vice versa - my strengths for his weakness) is very vital.  “If sex is a good thing, inside the context of marriage, then what’s so bad about dreaming about it, now?”  Well, wanting it now may tempt me to get outside of time, and push for having sex prematurely, or getting into a marriage prematurely, with someone who is not healthy. However, this is just starting to scratch the surface.

     I have begun to realize my personal motive for wanting to be in a romantic relationship.  I know that I shouldn’t wake love before it’s time (see Song of Solomon 3:5), and yet, I have found myself igniting a spark in which, after a little while, finally extinguishing it.  As I have continued to live life, I know I must become more vigilant.  After all, sexual purity is not just withholding sex until marriage (one can be a virgin and still not be sexually pure) - it’s mostly the thoughts linked to the longing for it.  A verse that scares me is in Matthew 5: 27-28.  

“You have heard it said to those of old, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that whoever looks at a woman to lust for her already committed adultery with her in his heart (NKJV).”

Wait.  Lust?  Adultery?  Yeah - that’s what Jesus said.  To have a strong desire of any kind, to fix a desire upon and to set my heart...to literally covet a person, I will be lusting.  And I have found myself guilty of this.  I have longed for a relationship.  I have become infatuated, and idealizing what it may look like.  I have imagined, with excitement, the hopes I have for my future.  I have wanted to be loved unconditionally, and the object of affection.  It doesn’t sound so bad, until I become honest about the intention for which I place my attention.

     You see - I am guilty of wanting a relationship, not merely because I have found a particular man attractive, likable and desiring to get to know him.  I have wanted a relationship, because somewhere in my psyche I have believed that if I had a boyfriend/husband, then I would be convinced that I will always be loved the way I always wished I was.  I know I am loved by family and friends, but the inward self-talk I have rehearsed in my head tells me that I still fall short.  I see my flaws and failures, and I just wish that someone would love me as I am, though broken, may be able to heal me.

     There’s a couple problems with this.  First, I have insisted that my man carries me, but what of the moments when he finds himself weak?  The man whom there is a mutual attraction admitted that there is an area of his life he needs to address.  Therefore, I must carry him in prayer, rather than idealizing he will always carry me.  No person is without their strengths; no one is without their struggles, as well.  As Christians, we mutually carry one another (see James 5:13-16); that being said, none of us are God, thereby, no one can can carry someone else without also needing to be carried.  I must learn to depend on God.

     Which brings me to my second point.  If I am yearning for a man to feel my emotional needs, then what should I do while I am single?  Truth of the matter is this: there is a deep longing in my heart to be whole and loved.  But the only one to sufficiently meet that need is the One who made me.  To put that weight on a man is to idolize him, and to expect him to carry a weight only meant for God to carry. Yes, the man I want to marry must himself be godly.  He should speak words of life and desire to go after God and His calling on his life.  But if my emotional state is based on what a man says or does, then I have created my existence to surround him, rather than God.  During this time of singleness, I need to be firmly grounded in God, first and foremost (and continue this dependence through marriage).  Out of that, I can be confident in truly loving someone and to find someone who truly loves me.

     I had to redefine what lust means for me.  I needed to make sure that I could recognize its difference from love.  Lust looks like an intense desire and a giving of attraction with the intent that the other person’s purpose is to meet my needs and wants.  It’s a likeability, with a selfish motive of what the other person can do for me.  So what is love?  1 Corinthians 13 shows a wonderful list in which it not only checks for what kind of man I want to marry, but it also checks me on what my intentions are in seeking a relationship with a particular person.  In focusing my attention on God, and realizing that a romantic relationship is not always about me and filling my needs (of being loved and affirmed...because no matter if I am with someone or not, God already has and will always love and want me), I then can seek a relationship in the way that God intended: An unconditional, selfless heart toward another person, able to partner with one another pursuing God and His calling on our lives.

“Love suffers long [patient] and is kind; love does not envy [nor boils with jealousy]; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own [does not insist on its own rights or its own way], is not provoked [not touchy or resentful], thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Corinthians 13:4-7, NKJV and AMP).”

Dear Baby Hall

Your name unknown

Provokes lingering questions.

I never met you - yet,

The heart becomes perplexed

As I miss you.

Never allowed a proper goodbye;

Nevertheless: I am haunted

By the fact that I never received

A sufficient hello.

An unexplainable pain suddenly maims

As I admit the absence

Of a sibling I should have known.  

Usual days fail to remind

My forgetfulness of you.

A sudden word or picture

Within a moment

Jots back to the loss

Unknown how to speak,

Yet, heavy to bear sometimes.

How can one love someone

They unknowingly lost, until

Years’ closets revealed the webs’

Tapestry of the story

You should’ve played?

I wonder if I am the only

Who thinks about what could’ve been.

Brother probably doesn’t even know.

Dad is willing to talk when asked;

Mom never mentions you.

As great the hurt I hold,

I can only imagine

The wounds she withholds from the world,

Forging a perpetual secret bleeding.

I cannot answer why.  I don’t know.

Is there any blame;

Is it anyone’s fault?

I don’t know.  But I choose to believe

God is good; this is the hope I hold.

Advised to know

You are Home;

This is my only comfort.

What could’ve been is not what is.

And yet, neither of us

Know what will be.

Eternity’s pages yet to be

Written and revealed.

But someday I will meet you,

See you and know you.

Until then…

Love you, and forever in my heart,

Laura Emily

What I Wish I Could Say (To My Mother)

What can I say to you, Mother, Muti, Mom, Madre? The journey since my birth until now have ebbed in ways counted in moments of lessons only learned by walking with one another.  Only until now, have been able to understand what I once was blind to.

The second our faces met, new life - a new chapter formed  a new curvature to your being as your womb knitted my existence.  Staring down fear, you dared to keep me when abandonment threatened...

You carried me more than I could know; sang lullabies more than I could list.  You bore me more than the minute I entered earth; spoke holy utterances over me more than what can be accounted.

And yet, I have a feeling that you are unaware  of the value you hold…“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of all?”

As you are:

Gifted by the One  who gives only good gifts, you have a mind full of hopes, dreams and passions.  Often laid aside, seating your loves in positions pursuing callings, yet failing to follow.  It’s time to rise, Mom.  Gratitude bursts upon the breath  I found on your breast.  Yet…You are more than the chord binding yourself to me.  Something lies dormant  waiting to release into full bloom.

Unseen beauty yet to beheld.  Gentle strength found in a delicate caress of fingers; a countenance shares stories filled with unmentioned tears; laughter that requires a second wind.  A bob in the head that beats with the music, and a booty that knows how to groove in every moment of joy.  After thirty years, Dad’s still got the hots.  I swear, he does more now than when you first said hello.  

I know you warn me to not become like you.  However, there is so much of you in me.  Looking at my reflection, it’s not hard to find the roots of the tree from which my apple fell.  A love so deep that has no boundaries; a loyalty tested true.  A song ever on my lips, and a boldness to be amused and make it known.  Imagination and creation flow through us: you with the needle and thread; I with my pen and lens.  Like mother, like daughter.  It isn’t so bad.

So, as you receive your congratulations on this day, know that I am so thankful to you, being my mother.  Furthermore, take hold of the gift you are as the woman God made you to be in all of His fullness.  There is a grace that covers you, veiling a masterpiece He is continuing to form in you. With or without me by your side, forever bound by a chord; know that you are most cherished.

Ich liebe dich, Muti  (I love you, Mom),

Laura Emily.

Why Stay?

    Three weeks left of the school year, and I have turned in my resignation for a full-time teaching position.  Resigned, because, I was given a notice of non-renewal.  I inquired about transferring into another teaching position.  Two years ago, I was allowed to do that.  However, it was made very clear that I am not be a teacher next year. The only position I can take is a TA or subbing.  A door closed.

    Honestly, I’ve been fighting feelings of bitterness, holding grudges...I’ve been fighting quite a while now.  It started back in February.  I was trying to manage my classroom as I should, but I guess I misunderstood some things, and in summary and from my perspective, I increasingly became more confused and frustrated of what was being required of me.  Never voicing it to the principal, out of fear that I may be pointing fingers when I shouldn’t, and secondly, feeling like a failure and worrying how he might see my capabilities, I put myself in a position in which I self-prophesied my doom.  There was a point in which I was so discouraged that I was fed up. I would have rather wanted to sub.  

    “Just let me be done!  I’m tired of the pressure!  I’m tired of feeling like I’m not good enough...Never doing things perfectly…”  After all, last year, I was told my principal that there was no more room for forgiveness.  At some level, I know he was trying to push me to get better, but after another year, I wonder if he saw any of my growth.  For two months, I fought depression.  I held off the thoughts that I was stupid, and not making a difference.  I regressed in believing that my supervisors should’ve encouraged me more.  They should have taken notice of the things I was doing well, but nothing was said.  All that was seen was my lack.  Subsequently, temptation to believe my identity was held in my role as a teacher seeped into my psyche.  It was about a month ago that I finally looked around, heard what my TA was saying, and realized that I am more than what was being recognized.  Am I the perfect teacher?  Am I superior?  Not yet.  I still have a lot to learn.  However, I know that my students are learning, and I am making a positive impact.

    There are questions of underlying motives...As awkward to accuse: is the District Administration aiming to have Native teachers to the point that they will make white teachers step down when non-tenured?  I would hate to have that be the truth.  Nonetheless, even if it is the truth, what more can I do?  The more I think upon possibility, it does stir up bitterness, disdain, and unforgiveness. 

    Man.  Just right when I finally regained the confidence of my abilities, this last blow came.  There are a mix of emotions about the whole circumstance.  And with one door closed, questions arise.  Namely, what will I do for the next school year?  Most people have advised that I should just move on.  Write a resume, start applying for teaching jobs elsewhere.

    People look complexed when I give them the answer I have.  For good reason, too.  Anyone who would find themselves in my position would readily move on.  And yet, I am choosing to stay.  I am staying when it all seems ludicrous. 

*****

    So, why stay?  

    During the internal discourse I was fighting inside my brain, I once had a dream.  I had been telling myself I wanted to go “home” (which unfortunately, usually did NOT mean back to my hometown, but was actually a pseudonym for suicidal thing, i.e. home = heaven).  In the dream, I left Browning, and returned to my parents’ home.  But the students I had this year followed me.  Then Jesus suddenly came back.  I was able to leave the house and go with Jesus; some of my students were able to come with me.  However, there were a few faces where they were NOT allowed to leave the house; every time they tried to open the door, the knob was locked, leaving the students behind after Jesus came back.  This dream confirmed for me that if I left, I would be leaving a position where my influence is vital to show and share the gospel with students.  I needed to stay on the Blackfeet Rez.

    However, I was still unsure, at the time, if I wanted to teach full-time.  I was beat down and ready to move on from the criticism of what I was doing wrong.  “Damned if I do; damned if I don’t.”  I really did come to the conclusion that subbing was the answer to step away from the discouraging criticism, and at some level, believed to be unneeded.  (It’s one thing to be directive, but living with the fear that every step I make would be the wrong is too much, sometimes.)  I had the confirmation that I needed to stay on the Blackfeet Rez (the thought crossed my mind to move to another Rez, and make it easier on me).  

    While working through my counseling book, on anxiety, it brought up that avoidance continues the process of anxiousness.  Opposed to what the mind whispers, trying to run away from a problem fosters fear more so.  It is the facing what discourages us that will make us overcomers. Running away to another job would be a form of avoidance, after all I have been through.  Within the next couple days, I was reading in 2 Corinthians 12:7-9, how Paul asked God to take away a thorn.  God refused.  It reminded my situation with my job.  The thorn being criticism.  The conversation with God went as such:

        God: “It would be easy to sub.”

        Me: “I would be removing the thorn of criticism rather than learning how to not crumble when under it.”

        “Bingo.  And if you sub, then you will enter a desert season (not growing in this area)...You will grow so much as an educator full-time than as a sub.  Subs are not held as much accountable, nor do they have as much influence.  Teaching is your ministry.”

*****

    Three weeks til the summer break and what does all of this background mean, concerning the coming August?  First, I believe that God wants me to stay with my Blackfeet people.  He is not done working through me here.  Secondly, God doesn’t want me to shy away from a full-time position, even after all the criticism I believe I received the last three months.  

    It sounds a bit counterintuitive...how can I be convinced that God would want me to stay, and yet, simultaneously, want me to go after a full-time teaching position (especially when the district is closing that position to me)?  Truth is, I am assured that God is going take care of my needs.  When I first moved to Browning, I was able to live substantially on a sub wage.  I have figured if I need anymore income, I can sell photos and do photoshoots on the side, as well.  At this moment, I have been told blatantly that I am not allowed to teach.  However, in the same day of this notice, I was told of other possible news that might shift things by this fall.  If so, a full-time teaching position just may open up.  I believe God was assuring me that if this change does occur, not to hold onto any grudges and refuse a position, based on the pain I have felt now.  I must let go, and allow God to use me where ever He decides to position me.

    It is not an easy thing to convince others of.  Coworkers and even those closest to me are telling me that it is better to move on.  My own mother has told me that I should try to look for a job in Kalispell or Cut Bank.  I stopped her and told her, “You don’t like me living in Browning, do you?” 

    “Laura, you have had it so hard [being on the Reservation].  I just want you happy.”  She’s not being racist, but she is pointing out something that is very evident.  It is not easy living on the Rez.  It has pained her to see me in pain.

    I explained to my mother that I know that I have had it hard.  I agree.  I am subbing, possibly becoming a TA if/when offered, but the fact of the matter is I am staying.  I am not mourning the loss of a job.  I am not seeking affirmation in a person who does not determine my identity.  Through this process, God is growing me and showing me that my identity lies in Him, not in what others’ determine.  But I cannot leave the Rez. There is a people who God loves here, and He has not released me from this place.  Yes, it has been hard.  However, I have Jesus.  I have hope.  How much harder is it for those who don’t know Jesus?  Yes, I want to be happy.  That being said, what brings me happiness is people finding Jesus and giving their lives to Him.  Life is not easy, and we shouldn’t expect it to be, just because we are Christians.  In fact, the opposite is true.  There are Christians all over the world being persecuted for their faith...some do take the chance to move elsewhere, and it gives them opportunities to share the gospel with a new group of people.  However, some refuse to leave, even at the threat of their lives.  All so that others may come to know Jesus.

    Somehow, a loss of a job pales in comparison to the loss of your head.  And at the end of it all, if people gain Christ in the face of our lost, there is glory in it for His Name.  That is that.  I must stay. 

A Lesson From a Potter

     Potter's Field Ministries came to town, yesterday, for a Good Friday service.  It was much needed, and there were a few take away points.  However, the following is what is striking me the most from what I learned last night:

"A potter never sees himself as dirty while working with clay. He doesn't see it as mud; rather he sees the clay as material; - the same way a painter sees paint or a carver with wood.

We are so quick to judge ourselves by our past: the scars, the jagged edges of our personality and mistakes, the times of growth and the times of pain. We are so quick to believe what everybody else sees in us, because they, too, see the process. However, they, too, do not see the finished product.

Remember, the Great Potter, already has the finished work in mind; He is just actively molding it. Do not become discouraged by what you see in the mirror; God's work in you is NOT done. Do not strive to soften the edges, mold the forms - it is not a work that we can complete. That is why Jesus had to come in. Trust in God. Give yourself grace, and trust that the Potter is gonna do what He means to do in you.  (Ephesians 2:10; Philippians 1:6; Colossians 1:27)"

Disowning an Inheritance: Done with the Self-Loathing

     I thought I had conquered this thing.  I learned to sink into the arms of my Heavenly Father when storms arose; I learned to cling to Him in my desperate hour, and to be content to long for Him in the hours of my joy.  But in the last two months, things have not been so.  Without going into much detail, I have been facing these same demons again.  Every which way, I wasn’t doing something right.  I would do something - all with good intentions - yet, not doing it well enough.  I would do something wrong, say something wrong.  Every turn, it felt - with less than a better way to phrase - “damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”  In my psyche, I felt jumbled.  Confused about what and where I was making my mistakes.  The more I was aware of my flaws, I only became more apt to commit them all the more.  Have you ever been in that position?  It sucks.  It’s despairing.  It’s an almost hopeless feeling.  I was tired of fighting.  I just wanted to be done.  Who cares?  If I am not wanted, why try to convince them otherwise?

     Anxiety...fear...depression...imperfect. That has been the culprit.  I am imperfect. 

     I know that I am not perfect.  I know that I am human.  Actually, Daddy God has been showing me that it’s okay.  He’s the good work in me, not myself.  But when someone else saw my flaws, and only spoke to me when I made them, it triggered something of the past.  I was no longer the confident daughter of the King.  I became, once again, the wretched girl who is no longer good enough.  No matter if the intention was to grow me, I felt defeated.  I have felt defeated for two months straight.  Over the course of my life, I no only inherited anxiety from my grandmother, but I constantly have feared the disdain of others’ opinion of me.  I know that God has made me, but there is this insistent pressure to believe the words that carry the most weight are the ones that I can see their faces.  Their impact is more immediate.  The blows have been cut deep and cut daily.  Once I could gain enough courage to hold onto the encouragement God was so desperately speaking to me to believe, another left hook runs in right field, tripping me to fall on my knees with a slump of defeat.  I want to get back up.  Stand firm.  Never back down, and never fear that I would fall.  Yet, here I am.

      It’s been nearly three decades with having this chain of anxiety tied around my waist.  Sure, I am strong.  Yet, this strength carries a cost in which it is too much to bear.  I am either too much to share my burden, or I slowly asphyxiate from my own isolation; a measure taken to not cause any worry for other loved ones in my life.  But this isn’t living, and surely not living in the purpose and power of Christ.  The worst of it is I know who I am in Christ.  I know all the Bible verses, and how I should think.  “I know better, so I should do better,”  I tell myself.  And that statement causes a condemnation that should not be my own.  Where God’s grace is meant to cover my heartache and brokenness, I fall into subjection to a law that has already been fulfilled. I have had enough.   I have had enough of not feeling like I am not good enough.  I have had enough of living in courage, and yet, when stepping into boldness, I suddenly become fearful of the rejected response I secretly wish (yet still expect to occur) won’t come.  I am tired of not caring, because I care too much of what people think.  I am tired of knowing that my identity is in Christ, but yet, I am constantly living a definition written by other men and women.  I am tired of being wrecked by wounds that I inflict, because I determine my situation to be the revelation of truth.  I am tired of not resting.  I have had enough of not being enough. 

     I am determined, however.  Ever since I was born, I was a fighter.  Call me stubborn; sometimes I wonder if it does me some good, though.  My mind may have been ravished by lies draining the rivers of life from my soul, but there is enough of His Holy Spirit seeping in to convince me that I know what I am believing is a lie.  Does that make sense?  I know I have been discouraged, and yet, I have enough of His truth in me to make me restless; to make me not content with just lying down dead in the face of my enemies.  Their names: anxiety, fear, failure, defeat.  So, I am getting back up.  Pick up that Sword and cut out the arrows that have poisoned me.  Their venom has been swimming in the midst of Salvation’s blood, but I aim to not be finished with allowing it to continue to “water” the soil of my heart.  I am going to let God do His perfect work in me. Oma, I am thankful for the heritage you left me.  You desired after God, and had a heart of worship.  The women of your family were prayer warriors.  But there is thing I must no longer receive from you.  Bid me no disdain for disowning the inheritance of anxiety.  I am done with the self-loathing, and I want to learn to stand in the truth of God fully.  I am ready to believe all He has said about me, and His heart for me. How this shall look: to be continued...