On all these politics…

I actually like politics. Nay – love it.

In college, I was on student senate all four years. My senior year I was President.

So I LOVE debates, but although I love them – I’ve been struggling recently.

On the Myers Briggs I’m an INTJ. INTJ’s are exceptionally rare, and are most scarce among women. My most extreme trait – is thinking. My colleagues and my friends took the MBTI, and among all of them I scored the lowest percentage for ‘feeling.’ So if you want a cold, calculating, rational, objective person – I’m your gal.

On a practical level, this means that the majority of my decisions are based on thoughts and evidence, and not how I feel (although, it’s totally arguable that I just rationalize my feelings). Please note here that I’m NOT saying my way of thinking is superior to others; it isn’t. There are many valid ways to come to a decision. And this isn’t to say I never make decisions based on feelings. Two months ago I bought an inflatable donut because I just liked it; I try to allow myself 6 feelings-based decisions a year (let’s not get too crazy).

In regards to politics, this means that I’m fully capable of having a best friend that I totally disagree with on politics. And in reality – I do. One of my best friends – politically - is the complete opposite of me. I say tomato, she says tomato. But what we have in common is the fact that we enjoy debate, and can put feelings aside to engage in a thoughtful argument. I’m salivating just thinking about it.

The thing is, most people are not capable of putting their feelings aside.  

And honestly – I can’t always do it. And I am scientifically the most rational person I know.

For the last few months, how people respond to politicians has seemed like a weird, hazy blur of irrationality to me.

I see what someone posts on Facebook, and all I can see is lines of hypocrisy.

Sally said: “This is just SO MEAN.”

Followed by…

Sally commented that: “These people are FUCKING IDIOTS.”

OR

Jim said: “Hillary Clinton is SUCH a liar.”

Followed by…

Jim said: “Trump’s honesty will lead us to greatness.” (ahem... wha?...)

I’m not telling you how to vote here, because science has proven you wouldn’t listen to me anyways.

I am, however, tired of the hypocrisy. And the person I’m most tired of hearing it from – is myself.

I’m calling out Sally and Jim, but I’d be lying if I said I’d never written a scathing post or comment.

I say I’m rational. I say I’m evidence based. But when I think of why I dislike a candidate, its mostly based on a deep feeling. A deep feeling that they are X, and Y, and Z. And I don’t know what to do with that?

I want to trust these feelings. But I’ve seen how feelings play out on Facebook and in business, and usually…. It doesn’t end well. Yet here I sit – feeling pissed off.

Pissed off at the hypocrisy. Angry at people who aren’t doing what they said they would. And angry that the root of it all is a feeling, and not a thought derived from evidence. I mean - why do we even HAVE science?

And I'm one of them.

And at this point, I always come to the same question: “What would Jesus want from me?”

Would he want me to write a comment tearing a brother or sister apart? Probably not.

Would he want me to tie a Bible verse to a political position? Unlikely (although I’d be REALLY good at it).

Would Jesus vote for Hilary, or Trump, or Jill, or Gary? That is impossible to be known.

I don’t have every answer (who does?). But I think what Jesus would want, is for me to love my brothers and sisters. He would want me to listen to them, and share my views – as kindly as I can. He would want me to forgive errors I see and to look hard within myself to understand my own failings. 

And I think – he’d want me to try to feel as much love for my brothers and sisters – especially those I disagree with – as he would have for me.

Because at the end of the day, worshipping a false idol is just wrong (Exodus 20:3).

And at the end of the day, we’re called to love each other (1 Peter 4:8).

And at the end of the day, Jesus is The King (Revelation 17:14).

I think and I feel that is true.

So let's just CTFO!

What is power…

From a sociological perspective, I hate how much I can’t really show you what power is.

Thanks to James Watt, physics has a cool definition with some sweet formuli.

But when I look to social or political science, the definition is so ambiguous.

The ability of an individual or group to achieve their own goals or aims when others are trying to prevent them from realising them.

How the hell do I measure that?

I’d have to ask everyone their goal. Then I’d have to ask them at a later point in time whether they achieved that goal. And if they didn’t, I’d have to figure out the why of it all. But is that too micro? How do I measure structural influences?

But what’s the goal? Is it as simple as whether you’re able to get your work done at your job, or not posting something you want to say on Facebook out of fear? Or is it bigger? Like missing out on higher education, or being able to get that big job?

Likely, it’s all of those things. It’s big and it’s small.

When I think of power, the only semi-relevant quote that comes to mind is from the Jackson native justice Potter Stewart when he talked about porn.

“I shall not attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description, and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it…”

I know power plays when I see them. I see them play out and I feel them deep inside my body. And they are larger forces playing out in small moments.

They are those moments when another person says or does something to make me feel small. 

And how old are you? I only hear that phrase used when someone wants me to know they’re older than me. Age being used to establish dominance.

They are those quips and phrases meant to keep me in my place. When someone says a woman is a “bitch” because she disagrees – that is power meant to keep a person down. What if I just want to disagree?

“I have the same ________ as a woman!” What? Do you realize what you’re saying here? You’re saying your job, or talent, or body part, or whatever is bad because a woman might have it. What is that saying about women?

Bible passages thrown on Facebook stories. I HATE this. People use The Word to beat people up.

Number of degrees. Number of articles read on a topic. Number of years worked at a job. Well some of these are helpful for understanding background and establishing credibility, I usually hear them used as a way to establish dominance. “Well I have a Ph.D. in X, so whatever your critique may be….”

But they are also more than words. They are body language. My old boss use to sit on my desk with his crotch facing me. He was using his body to make me feel, well, just icky.

But they are also larger than that. They are laws that seek to restrict my personal freedom. They are corporations and lobbyist groups that use their power to limit what people can do.

Science has proven that school integration is the best way to reduce test gap scores. But do we integrate? No, because there is power there. But what does that even mean?

Ask my husband how I experience the world, and you’ll likely get stunned silence. “She is overwhelmed a lot,” he will likely say.

I can’t shop at Meijer without having a panic attack. I have a hard time attending concerts, or theme parks, or stores, or meetings, or anything. Just being still is impossible.

I go into a room, and everything is there. I see every color on every wall. I hear every sound. I remember what people say, and feel what they feel, and notice what they imply. And I feel overwhelmed all of the time. So to subsist, I default to thinking over feeling and spending a lot of time alone.

And when I’m alone, I reflect back on my interactions throughout the day.

And in those interactions I see a complex world full of people. And some of those people are struggling to establish their power over other people. And for those people, my heart sinks.

Because the need to establish power doesn’t come from confidence or skills or ability, it comes from inferiority. A deep insecurity where you feel like you aren’t listened to or just aren’t good enough. Real individual power comes from knowing within yourself that you are good enough, because you simply are.

And it has to come from that, because the reality is that the world is stratified. And no matter how much we love ourselves, external forces exist to try to limit our choices. They’re big, and they’re small. And some have bad hair, and some don’t know how servers work. But they are real.

But because it’s so damn hard to define them, it’s hard to see them. And when it’s hard to see them, it’s hard to stop them. And that’s probably what they all really want. Because you can’t stop what you can’t see.

On being vulnerable...

I was friends with “Hannah” for two years. Nearly every day for two years we would go on walks together. We’d walk and talk about our lives. I knew Hannah’s entire family, and Hannah knew everything about me.

I gauge my love of people by a “kidney test.” I ask myself “If that person needed my kidney, would I give it to them?” I would have given Hannah my kidney. Actually, both of them.

One (or both) of these could be yours!

Then, I got divorced. We went for a walk and I told Hannah I was divorcing my then husband. And soon after – Hannah just stopped talking to me. Hannah exiting our friendship remains one of the weirdest things that has ever happened to me. When I asked Hannah what I’d done to her, she told me “I don’t agree with your choices.”

Hannah was the last time I ever let myself get close to a new friend. Since her, no new friend has ever passed the kidney test. It’s been five years.

A few months ago, a friend from church sent me Brene Brown’s video on vulnerability.

If ever there lived a researcher who is likely my life twin, it would be Brene Brown.

I watched Brene's video once, and I didn’t get it. So I watched the video again, and a little bit more sunk in. Then I watched the video a third time, and had an emotional breakdown.

The crux of the video is that the happiest people are vulnerable. And vulnerable people are courageous. And courageous people are those that live whole-hardheartedly. And people that are whole-hearted put all of themselves into what they do.

Vulnerable I was not. I sit behind a computer screen all day typing and playing with data. In person, I tell people personal things in an attempt to connect. But if I’m honest – really honest – my bags are always packed. And the sad thing about packed bags is that they always leave you feeling a little lonely.

Then, Brene Brown happened.

When I worked in Detroit I fell in love (co-worker love) with a woman name Ashley. If you’ve ever met Ashley, you love her too. It is impossible not to love her. And you love Ashley – because every moment you’re with her you get 100%. Ashley loves you, she loves life – and most importantly – she loves herself. She is beautifully confident in the fact that she is an amazing person (and she is… oh she is).

So I bought Brene’s book, and I’ve watched her video a fourth and fifth and sixth time. My goal – was to be my own version of Ashley. I’ve spent the last several months trying to be more vulnerable, and trying harder to connect with people.

The lynch pin of being vulnerable comes from one key thought – that you need to be resilient to shame. Shame is when you feel bad about who you are. Shame is the belief that we are unworthy of love and belonging. According to Brene, "The people who have a strong sense of love and belonging believe they're worthy of love and belonging. That's it." 

Hannah broke me. I’d never had a friend get so close, and then leave. And since her, I’ve spent every encounter keeping myself a safe distance from everyone. If Hannah could just leave one day because she didn’t like my choices, who else would just leave? Maybe I'm just not good enough?

But if I want to feel connected, I can't continue to live the lie of thinking that I'm not good enough. I have to move on.

So a few nights ago I made cupcakes for my co-workers. I’m trying harder to get to know them. But when I tried one of the cupcakes, the damn ganache settled to the bottom in a sloppy mess.

My first thought was, “I can’t give this to people.”

My deeper thought was, “Because if these aren’t perfect people will be upset.”

But my real thought was, “And if these aren’t perfect, then I’m not perfect. And if I’m not perfect people won’t love me.”

Then I thought of the book. And then I thought of living with my whole heart. And then I thought of shame resilience. And then I served my co-workers the cupcakes anyways, and mentioned that the ganache wasn’t perfect but that the frosting was.

And with a cupcake, a layer of shame came off. My resilience was built up. One more shirt was taken out of the suitcase.

I don't know what's next, but I know I'm going to keep trying - because I am worthy.

My cupcake brings all the friends to the yard.

On my mission field...

You haven’t lived until you’ve cried in front of your boss. You new-ish boss.

Someone very close to me has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). COPD does not kill you, but it makes your life very uncomfortable. People COPD are often short of breath, they may wheeze a lot, and they are prone to respiratory infections. Watching this person I love live with COPD is difficult. They have trouble walking quickly, and sometimes they struggle to breath. For most people, breathing is just what we do. But with COPD – breathing is difficult.

Working as an analyst at a hospital I’m asked for a lot of data. A few weeks ago my boss asked if I could pull data on COPD, and then present the findings to a group of leaders. The data pull was simple enough. Login, enter the parameters, some excel stuff – and presto - COPD data.

But then I had to present the data.

I drove to the meeting alone and thought about what I was going to say. The more I thought about COPD, the more I thought about the person I love. The more I thought about the person I love struggling to grab air, I started to cry.

I see more data than you can ever imagine; rows and columns of numbers and percentages. I have login after login for number after number. My excel sheets have excel sheets.

But in health care, numbers aren’t numbers – they are people.

And in this report – COPD wasn’t just a diagnosis code – it was a person.

And this person, was someone I love.

I've worked as an analyst for about 10 years. I've pulled data on everything from Pop Tarts to Free Press page views. I’ve always believed my role as a data analyst is special. I get to be the person that sees all of this data, and hears from ALL of these people, and I get to summarize what I see to people that can make changes. I feel humbled to be this person that gets to represent so many voices.

Tell a VP about the year-over-year percent change and why we're flat? Not a problem.

Market share reports for the north region? You got it.

But yesterday, for the first time in my life, the data I was going to speak on represented someone close to me. And even though I practiced what I would say, I could not get past the tears.

I got to the meeting looking like a soggy mess and had to tell my boss, “I can’t stop crying. I need you to do this.” And she did, because she's fantastic. Then, my tears brought forth conversation. My boss and I began talking about this person I love, and how with this data – maybe we can help more people. I think we will.

For the first time in my adult life I get to work in the community where I live. These numbers are my neighbors, and people I care about. When I talk about them, I’m talking about people I love.

I may never lead a church or travel to another country to preach. But these numbers are my purpose. And when I speak about them, I know that this is what I was always meant to do.

Yesterday, I fell in love with my job.

Yesterday, everything became real.

Today, and tomorrow, and every day after - numbers are my mission field.

On the boundaries of my body...

Sometimes I think about how hard life can feel.

Flooded house. Celiac disease. Neck pain. The list goes on...

In those moments, I often wonder about one question: "What is my own?" 

I've thought about this for months. I've lost sleep over it. But one day, there's only one thing that came as a consistent certainty.

My body. It is mine. It is always my own.

As a child, I was molested. That impacts you. But what it stole from me is this notion that my body was mine.

That followed me. When I dated boys, they took advantage of this weakness of mine. I thought my body was not mine, but it was for them to be used.

But this extends beyond physical pleasure.

My husband tells me I'm beautiful. But in my life, I've had maybe three days where I've believed that to be true.

My outward appearance has never satisfied me. I work out six days a week. I do it out of fear that if my body is not pleasing to others, I am a disappointment.

Again, my body is not my own. But it is all I will ever always have.

Yet this thing that is my own, is often the most threatened. 

Women upset men online. A common male reaction is to threaten rape. A man wants to take from me the one thing I have.

A Disney princess is always beautiful. A Barbie is always thin. Name three ugly actresses?

When will it ever be enough? Why is external beauty even important?

Because somehow the devil has beaten me in this.

He took a culture, and convinced us the outside of our bodies are more important than our heart's desires.

He took one whole gender, and convinced them that physical assault - or threatening it - is an option (1 in 3 women will be sexually assaulted - these are our sisters and daughters).

And he took children, like me - and put us in situations where the one thing we ever really had was stolen.

Well, today I declare the one thing we must always say to the devil: "Go fuck yourself."

This body is mine. You cannot take it. It is my own, and no matter what you put on me - you will not win.

Because regardless of what you take, oh Devil, Jesus gave up His body so I could love this one.

So fuck you. Today and every day after. Because this body is mine own.

On the purpose of my depression...

I never talked to Kyle again after that day. After the day I hugged him.

Kyle, Del and I just sat in the mental health ward.

After few minutes Kyle looked at us and said, “Are you guys – like – religious? Because I think God sent you yesterday.”

That moment. That phrase. Those words – made everything worth it. 

They made it worth Prozac, Wellbutrin, and Celexa. They made it worth swallowing pills, and almost driving off a bridge. They made it worth my trip to a mental ward. They made it worth depression, anxiety, and OCD. They made it worth thousands of dollars in therapists and hospitals.

I often wondered the “Why?” of it all. So much suffering in a world of “Just be happy.” Days of crying and laying around in pain, and wondering why I can’t move.

Kyle drove his truck into a tree to try to kill himself.

He had a hard life, and the trigger of a cheating girlfriend was too much.

I get that. I had been there. It isn’t the girlfriend – it’s feeling alone.

In that moment, death feels like it could be better than pain.

So when I pulled Kyle from his truck – I knew what to say.

When I walked Kyle to the curb – I knew what to do.

When I held Kyle and he cried – I knew to let him cry.

When I prayed with Kyle as the ambulance came – I knew what to pray.

And when we visited Kyle in the mental health ward – I knew what to do.

I always wondered how I would react if I had to go back to a mental health ward. Would I break down? Would it be too much?

I didn’t break. It wasn’t too much. It felt safe, just like it did 10 years ago.

And when Kyle said, “God sent you” I knew he was right.

It seems so trite, but I saved a life that day.

Just like a friend saved mine ten years ago. When God called, my friend answered. Now it was my turn. 

Hopefully, one day, Kyle will do the same. I think he will. I know he will. And after he does, I'm sure he'll know that it was worth it too.

On judging gay people...

I do not pretend to be a Theologian, although I've read the Bible a few times. There are people I know that are better versed on these issues. Yet it seems wrong to see groups of people being publicly condemned, and sit by idly without uttering a word.

Last week, I came upon a Facebook post that broke my heart.

A pastor I know posted on his church page about the evils of homosexuality. He then proceeded to condemn gay people to eternal hell fire.

There are so many things wrong with that post:
-It’s five years behind cultural discourse
-It pits people against each other
-It condemns an entire group of people
-It misses the opportunity to minister to people
-It’s a straight-up – douche bag thing to post

A close relative of mine left the church several years ago. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of this person and pray for him. I pray for two things: 1) I pray that Jesus finds a way to work in his life – but mostly 2) I pray that the people that caused so much pain to my relative see the pain they caused and apologize.

There are many reasons people leave the church – or never come at all. And it is naïve to think we can do anything and everything to ensure no one ever leaves. But we need to do more to invite people in, and let them know they are welcome.

If you have been hurt by the church, I am sorry for that. That sucks. If I have hurt you, I am sorry for that.

If someone has unfairly judged you, that was wrong. There are many Bible verses about not passing judgment upon others. (Matthew 7:1-5; John 8:1-8; Luke 6:31-36; Romans 2:1-3).

When you ascribe to Christianity, you must have standards and there are things that must be believed. We cannot disregard that if you know you are leading a life that is detrimental to God’s purpose for you, you must choose to walk away from that. I do not ascribe to know the plan God has for each person. However, it is of the utmost importance to show kindness to others. That includes people you like, dislike, agree with, or disagree with. I can’t believe I even have to write that here. I mean, have you read like – ANY of Romans?

And why is there such a huge focus on homosexuality above all else? There are so many other issues impacting us, why is this the great focus? Why not topics such as: divorce (hey, I'm divorced), affairs, poverty, abuse, lust, theft, drug abuse, laziness, body image issues (I struggle here), working too much (I struggle here too), selfishness (ok, real struggle here), lying, etc.

In case you're a judgmental jerk, let me spell it out for you. Just because you read the Bible every day, and pray a lot – doesn’t mean you get a free pass on passing eternal judgment against an entire people group. The only person that gets pass eternal judgment died on the cross. No one made you king of anything. So kindly hold your tongue.

Moving forward, instead of using these words we have to divide, let us choose to use them to unite.

Christ died for all. All. Period. End of sentence. (2 Corinthians 5:15)

We may not all agree on how we choose to live out our faith. But in the end, Jesus is what matters most of all. Let us try to agree on Him.

No matter what you have done, God wants you. You are forgiven by God. You are a child of God. You are loved by God.

If you want a church to attend, I’d love for you to attend mine. Attending church can be terrifying, but our church also has a way where you can attend online. You – all of you – any of you – are welcome here.