Time to Stop Hiding

El Camino crew we met, while
in Mexico

      Halfway through my internship, our Regions Beyond crew took a trip to Mexico for a young adults' conference.  My musketeer and I were in attendance for learning, but we were also supposed to be prepared to share.  Nevertheless, coming back to the states, I am less reminded of what sort of impact I had on my Mexican church family, and more chewing on the things that God had revealed to me in the previous week.     What is incredible is despite not knowing the language, how I could sense the presence of the Holy Spirit.  Additionally, there were prophetic words given.  Now, it is plausible to believe that God still speaks when family and friends speak to a specific situation.  It is quite undoubtable when there are people who never met you, nor speak the same language have spoken exactly what’s going on in your situation.  As I am growing in my faith and starting to shift my gaze on what’s “supposed to happen next”, I was struck that the prophetic words I received recounted things that I perhaps have lied down for one reason or another.     The two biggest things were the call of missions and stepping into giftings.  The call of missions has never really left since I was a preteen.  However, if I was honest, I had this sense that I would always be moving, and honestly, I have primarily only moved to Browning and then to Spokane, outside of my hometown. But when one of the words said, “This trip is not just for learning.  God is a missional God.  This trip will be a deposit for what He wants to do in the future.  Don’t worry about the frontiers or the visas.”  Missional God?  She OF COURSE couldn’t have known that about me!  And though I have a desire for the Rez, the truth is, I also have a desire for traveling.  I have wanted to learn about other cultures.     A part of me doesn’t want to walk away from my Native family, because I wonder if I am in a sense abandoning them.  However, what if God wants me to also go elsewhere?  Not for the sake of avoiding the pain that is so often felt on the reservations (as some of my family will think or admit), but because God is shifting my focus, because He wants me to share the gospel.  This isn’t to say this is absolute.  Even while in Guadalajara, there was nothing that jumped out at me that I “absolutely have to be back”.  But when a potential interest crossed my eyes, even then I had to face the matter of this missional calling (would I be willing to move to another country, minister, for a man?).      But besides the romance, if God told me to change my focus from the Rez to elsewhere, was I willing, even as a single person, to move internationally to share His love?  It is scary to think so.  I hate the idea of living alone, as I remember what it had done to my mental health.   However, my trust in Jesus is deeper and more intimate than it has been.  Perhaps, if God were to say something, I actually could find excitement, even in the middle of the anxiety, of living internationally.  To clarify, at this point in time, I don’t think God is telling me He is not letting me go back to the Rez.  I think He just wanted me to be open to other doors, because possibly, I won’t be on the Rez forever.     The area of stepping into gifts is multifaceted.  First, someone prayed that I would step in the gifts of healing and see miracles.  That I would see the desires of my heart.  Now, I have been recently wrestling with the idea that because of a dream from 10+ years ago, and it being interpreted as a calling for prophetic evangelism, I am supposed to be more fort writ about my faith, as my uncle is.  But honestly?  It doesn’t fit me.  Moreover, it was one person who said that.  Now…the mention of healing has been a recurring theme or prophetic word over my life.  Maybe people pray that over me, due to me living with a disability, but I have taken an optimistic approach, and believe they genuinely believe they are hearing from the Lord, beyond what they see concerning my right hand.     I admit I don’t usually pray for people, par “laying on of hands” publicly.  If I do see someone and pray, I usually pray a safe prayer, as to not offend if nothing happens in the moment.     Boom.  There it is.     I knew that healing has been a gift, but it has also been a source of contention.  And so, though I believe that God still heals, I am also cautious to pray in such a way that may declare, “Thus saith the Lord,” when their healing may be later, even to the point of waiting until heaven.  In reflection, I wondered if there was still perhaps a lingering pain from Pastor Steve’s death.  But God’s response was more alarming, “[It’s] you waiting on your own healing.  Did getting prayed for numerous times and not seeing [immediate] change cause a fear in you that I don’t answer prayer?”  Honestly, yes.  Because I wouldn’t want to stir up expectations for things that will not be.  I wouldn’t want to create an environment of discontentment or cause someone to question the goodness of God. However, don’t I believe that God does still heal, in spite of my present physical reality?  Yes.  My Father went on, “You not praying bold prayers is you trying to protect the person from disappointment.  (But healing is a trial that every Christian is going to have to face and wrestle with.)  You are called to equip [so much for evangelism; this is confirmation that leans towards teaching and discipleship] and you cannot equip if you don’t give them (people) a chance to learn.”  So, I am no longer to hide behind my own hurts and fears, but I am supposed to pray bold prayers, genuinely asking God to move, no matter the outcome.  And if/when the time comes that someone doesn’t receive a promise immediately, then I am to be ready to help them navigate questions.  Dang… The last component of gifts concerns my writing.  I would say that I do practice this gift.  However, as with the healing gift, I practice this in secret.  This is why I write multiple blog posts, but only a certain percentage actually become public.  What I would really desire to do is develop culturally contextual parables and share them.  Publicly.  So that they can be used as tools to share the gospel.  But I haven’t.  I have written, but held onto the stories, because I don’t know…I’m afraid that by writing them, I may actually offend the very ones I’m trying to reach.     But a word that remains unspoken is still a word unspoken.  And out of fear of rejection, another person is robbed of a gift that can actually enlighten the gospel in a way they never saw before.     It may be time to start asking permission to share these stories.  I just don’t know how.  While I was in Mexico, another person asked me if I ever thought about writing a book.  Truth is, I HAVE.  I have thought about writing testimonies from my Native friends and compiling them so people can see how God is healing peoples’ hearts.  The person who inquired about book writing then encouraged me, “You should do that.” Most years, I am a full-time teacher.  But I do have my summers off.  Perhaps instead of moaning that my friends are all busy with work during that time, I could utilize that time to collect stories.  Still brainstorming.     When I look back on my trip to Mexico, I am challenged.  I am challenged to remember the dreams I once had.  I am challenged to collect the fruits of things that have been seeded long ago.  I am challenged to not be held back by fears and apprehensions.  I don’t know what all the steps I need to take, or the people I need to meet.  But I’m reminded that in this internship, I have been learning what it means to be a child of God, as Laura Emily Hall.  How I walk in my calling will not look like others.  How I employ the heart of Jesus will differ than those beside me.  And that’s okay.  More than okay, it is needed.  And I need to stop worrying how I’m not fitting into other peoples’ boxes, because I am not meant to.  Here’s to the next chapter.  Here’s to the next steps.  Here’s to the dreams being woken and things being revealed.

To What Kind of Man be Drawn?

      Can’t blame a girl for trying, can ya’?  Sure, I knew that going to another country the likelihood of meeting someone I could genuinely be interested in - and want to develop a relationship with - was slim.  Nevertheless, while in Mexico, I did see that my eyes caught sight of someone…and I did eventually say, “Hello.”  But we only had one conversation, no goodbyes were said, and he’s not on social media, as far as I know.  A dead road.  Shucks.  And I would be more discouraged if it wasn’t for the hope in the midst of this conversation.     I regretfully admit that I have run after men who had no business catching my attention.  Cute, sure.  Funny?  Yes.  Even have had good conversations.  But in the measure of their character, there was some lacking.  Moreover, I have had this perpetual belief that I would have to be the one to take the reins in living a fulfilling life.  As if, I would have the vision, and my future husband would just have to play a supporting role, because they have no vision of their own.  Doesn’t help that I also have believed that the only man that would ever be attracted to me is one that has to look for external inspiration (such as a woman) to step into the things of God.     But this man…He was sharing what his work was.  And he was alive while talking.  I could tell he actually enjoyed what he did.  I almost imagined what it would be like for me to teach beside a man like him doing what he does.  Could it work?  And yet, for the moment, I realized…whether or not this man was “the one”, I wanted that kind of man.  The man who - with or without a woman - was walking out the calling God had placed on his life and was thoroughly enjoying it.  He did not need me to be obedient to what God put in his soul.     Quite a lesson for myself, actually.  The truth is that I also wondered if I have put myself in a corner, because I have believed (or wished) to not step into certain things unless I was married.  In thinking about this man, I did have to pause and wonder, “Am I really willing to develop feelings for a man who is in another country?”  Moreover, and more importantly, “Would I be willing to move to another country if this relationship was getting serious?”     Yes, I would.  This is starting to go into what kind of implications can result when I am willing to move beyond the present dreams I’ve boxed myself in.  Nevertheless, I want to reiterate that when it comes to romantic relationships, how beautiful a blessing it was to have an example that I do not have to settle for the mediocre.  I know I am getting tired of being passed up.  I’m sometimes discouraged when it seems like all the men in the church are married, dating, not interesting, or not healthy.  But selling out my relationship with Jesus and the calling on my life (wherever that may take me) is not worth gaining a man who is not alive in his identity as a child of God.     I need to speak more on what happened in Mexico.  But I am challenged to walk in my calling no matter what.  I need to stop making a stipulation that I have to be married to step into certain places or to explore different desires.  I have Jesus, and if He is opening certain doors, I need to stop refusing.  And lastly, thank You, God, for showing me it is possible to meet a man who enjoys what he is doing!

The Beauty's Beast

 He was considered ravishingly handsome; ruggedly desirable.  Nevertheless, his face soon matched the color of his soul.  A king no longer wanted; a people no longer devout.  His sins were known, but the evidence inconclusive...until his form became that of an animal.

True love would break the curse he brought upon himself.  But who could ever love a man who was a beast?

Her smile brought joy to those with sorrow.  Her words spoke hope to those without.  Her boldness ignited a charge for justice.  Nevertheless, the love of her people was borne out of hate for a man.

Could love prove to fail when asked to forgive?  Laying down arms, an impossibility, yet One interceded...implored her to lay down the knife of vengeance.

Thus begins our tale...

I am the beauty.
The protagonist,
My life gives life 
To others.
The main character
On whom the world
Surrounds their interest
And knowing how God wrote
My story.
My ears search to comfort the hurt.
My mouth longs to speak
Grace for the forgotten.
Borne out of spontaneity,
A light bursts from an uncomely form.

Who is the beast?
Wounds borne of an offense
Perpetually bleeding,
Constantly blaming
The perpetrator - 
Thought to be an ally -
To my heart's defense.
Perfection - the ideal of heaven
Until heaven is found unreachable.
Words of holiness prove not
To be His intention when words
Spoken in the wisdom of men.

Who is the beauty?
A woman who daily seeks
After the Lord's heart.
Who longs for her image
To mirror that of her King.
Her desire for her family
To become
His comely portrayal.

Confusion between wisdom
Of the secular and divine
Wrought with a dissidence.
Love only rendered
To one's face, hiding the shame
Of a growing loathing.
A beast cannot change
Unless justice meets its mark.

Love fails when it seeks 
Its own.
Truth remains unheard
When defined by the carnal.
Grace neglected when loss
Of perception stipulates chains.

If God be for me,
Then who can be against me?
Yet, I held onto my sin
By holding onto another's
Ignorance.
Wanting a change, nonetheless,
Never hoping; never believing.
Inwardly commanding
A conversation, but consequence
Would bear only embarrassment.
What love is that?

Now that I know better,
Will I heed His truth;
Will I choose to bind my wounds?
Cease to blame my soul's anemia
On a mere misunderstanding
Based in between generations?
I am not at the epicenter 
Of the world's stage.
To dictate agreement
Is to declare allegiance
To one other than the Creator.

Am I the beauty?
My speech utters words foreign
To my being.  My hands stretched
Out, tipped with daggers,
My smile deceiving.
My hatred changed my form.

At some point,
I became the antagonist.
Vengeance transformed me.
Freedom transpires 
When tenderness is extended
Without motive.
I am the beast.
The chains of my uncomely 
Form will break when I learn
To love those whose love is hidden.
When I treasure the unseen jewels;
When I seek the beauty in others
That God saw in me.

From DepositPhotos; obtained by Google Images

Am I Woman Enough?

   

  Looking at my body, I know I am female.  I am a woman.  But when I look in the mirror, I see more than just the curves of my hips or my breasts laying limp.  I also see the muscular build to my shoulders, marking that I carry a strength more than some women.  When I look in the mirror, I am reminded of the moments I have gotten dolled up.  Wearing a dress, and recently make-up for a wedding, I know that I can look hot.  But when I look in the mirror, I am also reminded of the many hours I dress in preparation to get filthy on a construction site.  Or my skin glistens with sweat after exerting my body for sport.  I am not dainty.  Never have been.  I have a feeling; I never will be.  Even when I become glamorous, I make sure I wear a pair of shorts, because…well, you never know when you gotta get ready for some action.  Looking in the mirror, I am not your typical woman.  So, do I lack femininity?      Born a female, I never wanted to be a boy.  I just liked things - and still do - that typically boys/men like.  And when I hung out with my male cousins as a kid, it was because they were involved in things, I liked compared to what the girls wanted to do.  I never thought this was weird.  Frankly, my parents didn’t either.  I mean, my dad has said that he raised me like a son.  But that wasn’t because he was wishing I was a boy.  He understood that, as a kid, I liked to do things boys typically did, and he was okay with that.  I didn’t have to play with dolls; I could like sports.  I didn’t have to learn to cook; I could work with tools if I wanted to.  And that was okay.     Until middle school.  Then another mother figure came into my life.  And this woman - though, she may have had the best intentions - identified my behavior as something uncomely for girls.  First, she stuck to the opinion that I hung out with the boys, because I had a crush on one of my cousins.  But throughout my maturation, comments of how I should wear dresses more often, or that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach have lingered in the air.  I have forgiven her for many of her other past transgressions.  However, now, this is what I hold onto.  Because, frankly, it isn’t the past.  It is the present.  Though I have become a woman, and though on the contrary to my adolescent self, wearing dresses, it still isn’t enough.     “You look so good in a dress.  You should wear dresses more often.”     Dresses aren’t considered a big deal.  Even in most Christian circles, if someone dresses up, it is noticed, the person is complimented, and people move on.  But, in the case of women who grew up tomboys, wearing a dress is almost like seeing a wild animal in its natural element.  No…it’s not like that at all.  From the perspective of the viewer, that may be the case.  But for the “animal”, a woman can wonder what the big deal is.  After all, as a woman, if I want to wear a dress when I want to, why does the paparazzi suddenly have to be notified?     But that isn’t the question, is it?  The question, rather, is, “Why don’t I wear dresses more often?”     And why should I?  Honestly, in the whole of what goes on in my life, when is a dress appropriate to wear?  At work, it is inconducive.  I need to be on the floor with students, able to move quickly in case of an emergency.  In sports, a dress would make me reveal things unneeded to become public.  Any physical labor would ruin such a beautiful outfit.  Oh wait.  Maybe I should wear dresses every Sunday.  That’s what my other mother figure does.     Ironically, my own mother never questioned my femininity.  Nevertheless, this other woman did.  Maybe she was afraid I would fall into some grave sin by doing things that boys do.  Maybe what she was really trying to do was to teach me life skills that she knew.  But the emphasis on my appearance was more than overbearing.  It was a burdensome weight.  Because it wasn’t just the outfits, but the behavior that needed to be accompanied.  Never married, but maybe I will not make a typical bride.  And sometimes I wonder if that is okay.     Am I okay as a woman if I am not a woman like others?     When I wear a dress, there is no need to tell me I should wear them more often.  I have been a woman since I was 18 years old, and I have been feminine since I was born.  I wish I could stop being put in a box of what I should be, as a girl.  I know I don’t live up to standards of what a woman “should” be.  As I have grown, it seemed like there was always something to fix.  The comments make my worth determined based on what I wear.  I wish, as a woman, my femininity wasn’t constantly evaluated by my interests, activities, and dress.  Why when I didn’t fit the stereotype I was joked at, mocked, or criticized?     As a result of these comments and “compliments”, I have questioned whether I had any hint of femininity.  Because I didn’t fit into some boxes.  Ironically, not many people question my womanhood.  But the one voice that speaks to my gender, and negatively so, is the voice that is constantly inside my head.  I wasn’t created to be like my other cousins.  I was created to be me: Laura Emily Hall.  I don’t think I’ve ever been called beautiful, as a statement.  No, there usually has to be a tagline.  I’m beautiful, and will continue to be, if I just ________________.  I’m tired of the bullshit.  The comment has the opposite effect. To tell me I should wear dresses more often, when I have already been, actually makes me want to never put a dress on ever. Or at least, around this person. Sigh...But I don’t know when…when this person is going to see it.     My confidence in my sexuality has been depleted, because I didn’t think I am woman enough for a man.  I have believed that I better wear something different or act different or display a different hobby than what I’m actually interested in, if I want to attract a man.  So much for personality.  So much for character.  So much for just being myself.  So much for my smile.  After all, that is the feature about me that I like the most.  And my freckles.  But if I wore make-up, those lovely spots on my face would be covered.     Am I good enough?  Because when I look in the mirror, I don’t see masculine.  I do see feminine.  Because I am a woman.  I know with the discussion on transgenderism*, there is a lot of commentary on what masculinity vs. femininity is, and frankly, I don’t have it all figured out.  However, I am seeing way more evidence that the Western world, and unfortunately, the Church as well, determines gender based on stereotypes and roles, rather than the matter that someone is born male or female.  I know that clothing is an extension of gender, but anytime I’ve worn men’s clothes, it was because it was more functional (i.e., comfortable, affordable, and available) than the idea of me trying to become less of a woman.     Yes, I grew up a tomboy.  A girl who did typical boy things.  But that didn’t equate to me wanting to be a boy.  (And sidenote, when people say a girl who wanted to be a boy, thereby dressing and naming themselves as a boy, then becoming a girl again is not coming out of a tomboy phase.  She was coming out of a boy phase.  Tomboys are girls who like stereotypical boy things.  Doesn’t mean they actually want to be a boy.) I was always a girl and wanted to be a girl.  I just was a girl who didn’t want to be dainty.  Because the adventures I wanted to have required shorts and T-shirts, not aprons.       I know I need to let this go.  I need to forgive the person who is at fault for me questioning my worth as a woman.  However, like many other forgiveness issues I’ve had, I struggle with letting it go without the promise of any change.  If I sit long enough in the hurt, tears come.  Waiting longer, anger brews.  Because I wonder, why am I never enough?  Will I ever be enough?     I don’t mean to balk at wisdom.  I don’t mean to claim that I can just be myself and never require change for anything in my personality.  As Christians, we are daily living out a transformation from a personality of sin to a personality of holiness.  Nevertheless, God created us uniquely.  So, why wouldn’t we consider that?  I am still searching what it means (if we need it black and white) to be feminine vs. masculine.  But often I find that I’m told to be prepared for every work that God puts before me.  I am learning how to listen to what God says about me instead of what tradition dictates.  Even if it is church tradition.  Because, anytime the church defines a doctrine that is based more in society than in the Bible, then we as Christians need to give room to question it.     I don’t know how to respond to this other mother.  Every time she makes a comment about how I should wear dresses, I smile and say meekly, “But I do wear dresses.”  However, inwardly, I really want to rail her in.  Give her a piece of my mind.   But, in the quiet sorrows of my mind, I hear the Holy Spirit say, “Giving a taste of her own medicine is not godly.”  Furthermore, I’m supposed to extend mercy, even though she doesn’t deserve it.  But what would mercy be if it was deserved?  Nevertheless, I am to the point that her biases need to be confronted.     “Do not answer a fool according to his folly, lest you also be like him.  Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes (Proverbs 26:4-5).”  Maybe the best response is no response, at all.  Not just a lack of response.  A lack of acknowledgement.  Maybe in the silence, she will hear the ignorance of her opinion.  That being said, I know that the moment revealing the truth of her words causing emotional scars will need to be done so with grace.  May I be ready for it, sooner than later. *To learn more about the transgender concern from a Christian perspective, read (Sprinkle, Embodied: Transgender identities, The Church & What the Bible has to say 2021)

The Scarred Beloved

In the morning, 
I awake
Enveloped in Your arms,
Raptured by Your love.
Your eyes share
A pain, but bestow
A joy I hope to eternally know.

But what mar is this
Upon Your face?  A scar
That was to be my own.
Everything You say and do
Declares delight, but
The brokenness You bear
Condemns me.  A reminder how
You laid down Your perfect image,
Took up my imperfect being.

The elders can share the truth:
Even in our union,
I fail to be faithful.
Yet, You clasp my body
Tighter, unconvinced
By a man's charge, who also bears
Secret sins of his own.

You pronounce the pain
Was worth it.
Nevertheless,
I know the truth of my soul.
Do You?
The darkness witnesses
The depravity of my intentions;
A criminal in my own home.

Will the past cease to haunt?
Convinced it will die 
When my sins cease to exist.
But Your hands grasp my face,
Your eyes look at me
Without remorse
For the choice You made.

You remain faithful,
Even when I become faithless.
Tempted to divorce
Due to my shame.
You refute; You will never
Agree to be separated.

No matter how broken
I feel I remain,
Your wholeness continues 
To hold; a security
That refuses to be severed.
So, as I fall, I fall
Into You.  I rest assured
You will never leave.

Your love increasingly 
Convinces me
My now is not my end.
I guess 'til death do us part.
And with no death,
There is no end.
I guess we're stuck together.
I like the sound of that,
My scarred Beloved.





*Taken from the wife's perspective in the parable found in The Man with the Cut-Off Nose (Honest To God Letters: The Man with the Cut-Off Nose) 

Must I be Wed? The "Curse" of Celibacy

Luckily, women can support 
themselves.  But it is still taboo 
for a woman (and men too)
to remain single for any reason. 
Even in the church.

      People in the church say that singleness is a gift.  That as somebody who isn’t married, I should take advantage of this season.  That it is a gift.  Because, as an adult, I don’t have the strings like others, I can afford more time to devote to godly pursuits, such as ministry.  Nevertheless, I have found that gift is hardly the word to describe such a life.  Because not only is there an expectation that I am free to do so much, but ironically, there is a familial pressure to meet people.  And worse, when people in the church gather for smaller connections, often it is the single people who are left out.  Is celibacy such a gift?  The way that it is received in the church seems to act as if it is more like a curse.  One in which should be righted as soon as possible.
    When it comes to the discussion of romance and the church, there is often a display of mixed messages.     “Wait for sex.      But you should make sure you know that he’s the one (when dating).     Everyone has their own season.  Don’t rush this season.  You should enjoy this season.     You’re lonely?  I feel for you.     Oh, there is this person you should meet!”     Seriously, nine times out of ten, when someone says I should meet someone, they are describing a man.  Never a woman.  I can read between the lines.  Honestly, it’s all confusing…and tiresome.  I know that among the practical gifts found in the Bible, celibacy is one of them.  And those who were in the Bible and single took advantage of that and were able to travel and meet many different people, while sharing the gospel.
    However, today?  Most Christian parents get anxious when their children haven’t found a spouse.  Or they joke about how the adult child should declare their availability.  Sometimes, they will give “wisdom” by sharing what ways to get someone interested (“The way to a man’s heart is through his belly.”  Thank you for the added pressure that I should be a stereotypical woman in order to be beautiful enough for a man to give a second glance…Pause, let me hold in my indigestion, as we continue).  Ironically, once a child is married, then the expectation for grandchildren is assumed.  (Why is it never enough?)     This isn’t a post about how I have finally learned how celibacy is a gift.  At this moment, I find it…not so much a curse, as there are times I am just fine being single.  But frankly, I feel like there is something wrong with me.  Especially in the part of socialization in the church.  I have noticed a trend in congruence with how people create friendships.  Singles will mingle with couples who are dating, sometimes married.  Couples dating will definitely fellowship with married folks.  But once married, the majority of friendships are still married folks or folks with kids.  It is hardly seen that a single person is best friends with a mother (unless, in my experience, it is a single mother).     As a single person, I find it frustrating that there isn’t much cross-integration for family life.  And yes, when I am in moments of loneliness, then I am pitied.  However, the solution offered is to just take some time with Jesus, get a dog, or - well, a man would be a nice addition too.  But why doesn’t the body of Christ act like a family?  After all, if we’re God’s kids, doesn’t that make us related?  Why am I left out when women want to meet (besides a church function Bible study)?  If someone recognizes my loneliness, then why not welcome me into their home?  But…as a single person, I guess I wouldn’t relate.     Cause, I don’t know what it’s like to date.  Nor what the battles come when married.  I don’t know what it’s like to raise kids (teaching prepares me only a little).  But if I had married friends who invited me into their home, maybe I could learn.  Actually, I know I would.  I could find a safe place in case I found men I’m interested in.  I would see how a healthy marriage actually looks.  And as for kids?  Maybe someone could walk me through how to work with little ones.  I promise I’m not being selfish by not offering baby-sitting services.  If someone could help me learn how to change a diaper one-handed, then I might actually be more willing to assist.     However, the greater pain of the single life is one where relationships with others are lacking.  Because celibacy is understood as a gift to endure being alone, compared to their married counterparts, it is then assumed that all we need is Jesus to fix our lonely hearts.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am fully aware that I need to learn to go to Jesus first, and foremost, to meet my needs.  Nevertheless, even Paul had companions with him on his missionary journeys.  So, why is it assumed that the single Christian today could go just well, as isolated?  And if I do long for human connection, why not just get married?     Because frankly…the men that people point out to me are so NOT my type.  I remember my mother wishing I would marry a doctor or lawyer.  It was suggested that I should “befriend” a man nearly 20 years my senior, and that same person suggested I should meet a man eight years younger than me.  Like, I get that they think they're great, but I got my standards too.  Sheesh…I digress…     I wish things were simple.  But even if a person who is destined for life-long celibacy needs friends.  And if a person, who is like me, living out this gift, but does want to get married, I understand that marriage isn’t going to solve my emotional woes.  Why the heck has the church bought into the world’s lie that intimacy is only found in a romantic relationship?!  Or, to solve the solution of loneliness, the suggestion is to date or volunteer more.     Yet, neither are truly a good solution.  First, dating to run away from my loneliness is going to put emotional demands on a man on which he was never meant to carry.  Moreover, my love toward him would only be selfish.  And as for volunteering more?  One of the things I am presently learning in my internship is how I am meant to be, not just do.  Having grown up with a works mindset, telling me to volunteer more would only be undoing any progress I have gained.  I am learning that vocation is more about walking in God’s purposeful living, not necessarily making a head count of how much I can be involved.

This is how I feel when people try to 
force a romantic connection for me.

    The single ones in the church aren’t supposed to be the busy bodies of the church!   As far as I have checked, there are many parts, and no, the celibate ones can’t carry it all.  But thank you for asking, anyway.  Do people understand that the purpose of celibacy is abstinence from sex; it isn't about abstaining from intimacy.  And yes, there is a deep intimacy in marriage that cannot be compared.  But that doesn’t delineate the intimacy found in friendships.  So, why have we decided that single people are not in need of company?!     I do realize that God has reserved some to be celibate for a season.  For others, their entire lives.  I do know that by being single, I am available to move wherever He wants to guide me.  I can up and leave in no time, and I do not have to worry about how a change may affect a spouse or children (the latter being the greater concern; married and without kids can also lend to flexibility in lives).  It means I do have more freedom to be involved in ministry, or extra time to devote to things I like to do, or worship.  But I also know me.     I need friends.  I need family.  I need connection.  And the solution isn’t about just how quickly I can get hitched.  I gotta laugh at myself, sometimes.  When I was 22 years old, I thought I would be married by the time I was 26 years.  But almost seven years have passed since the "due date" for my marriage beginnings, and there is no man in sight.  I wouldn’t say that I’ve given up on the hope for marriage, but I’m giving up on having it as an idol.  Only God knows how long I’m going to be single.  But in the meantime, how will the church befriend me?  If there was any way I saw celibacy as a curse, it would be this: in my singleness, it has become an excuse for others to forget me.     And my question is can I be welcomed just as I am?  Am I a gift, as I am?  Am I only good for all the things I do, or can I have value for the person I am becoming?  I’m tired of feeling guilty for feeling lonely.  As if the only person I ever need is Jesus.  If that is so, why are any of us married (and don’t tell me, that it’s so we can procreate)?  I need people who I can share experiences with.  I need someone who I can bounce thoughts off of.  I need to be a part of the body, and not just some appendage.  Otherwise, what good is this gift of celibacy?

Prestine

Pristine...
What is it?
The immaculate
Without mar
Or ruin.  In its form
It is perfect.

Yet, a glass
Tells a different story.

The sun's kisses
Have stained spots
Upon cheeks.
One hand grips in strength,
While a wrist is curved
In weak display.
Scars, callouses and cellulite
Glitter my skin, marked
By miles hiked on life's trails.
Muscles tethered
Joints strained,
Years of wear from
Battles on grass and dust.

The crows rest 
Next to my eyes,
Revealing the tears
I have cried.
The lines above
My brow shares
The worries I've endured.
Creases lay
Where dimples should,
Uttering the joyous
Moments felt.

No, my body
Isn't pristine.
If it were,
It would prove
I never lived.

However,
Maybe it's not the form
But the story displayed
That makes 
My body pristine.