The Accidental Feminist

I have a confession to make. It's time to be honest.

I am a feminist.

I didn't mean to become one. I have been reluctant to embrace it. The word feminist can hold such a negative connotation. If you have been exposed to worldviews where feminists are not advocates for equality, but "feminazis" who refuse to wear bras, you will understand.  I didn't mean to become one, but, when you find yourself sitting in a church listening to one of the most misogynistic preachers week after week, you have only a few choices. You can either:

1. buy into that worldview
2. secretly disagree but choose to live within the confines of that worldview, or
3. reject it and expose it for what it is.

In case you were wondering, I pick 3.

Here is a list of some of the more prevalent feminist stereotypes.

10. Feminists hate men

9. Feminists hate the idea of family

8. Feminists are masculine and unattractive

7. Feminists hate God

6. Feminists don't shave

5. Feminists are all pro-choice

4. Feminists can't be stay at home moms

3. Feminist whine about everything

2. Men are not feminists

1. All people who label themselves as feminist believe in the exact same things.

Here is the truth.

10. I don't hate men (I am married to one).

9. I have 4 kids.

8. I don't *think* I would qualify as masculine (I am wearing pink and polka dots right now).

7. I have belief in God.

6. I shave.

5. I am pro-life (before and after birth).

4. I stay home with my children.

3. I only whine about some things.

2. I am not a man, but I know some who believe in equality for women.

1. I don't agree with all Feminists, just like I don't agree with all Christians or Democrats or Stay-At-Home-Moms.

What does the word feminist actually mean when we strip away the stereotypes?

fem·i·nist

 [fem-uh-nist] 

adjective Sometimes, fem·i·nis·tic.

1.

advocating social, political, legal, and economic rights for women equal to those of men.

noun

2.

an advocate of such rights.

I am a feminist and I am proud of it. I am an advocate for equality for girls and women in society, politics, education, the workplace and the church. I teach my daughter to see patriarchy and not allow herself to be limited by it. I challenge the status quo and call bullshit when I see it. I hope she will do the same.

So there you have it. The truth has set me free. 

The Best-Worst Thing That Ever Happened To Me

Sophia "is" by David Hayward (aka nakedpastor)

One year ago today, I told the story of my experience at Mars Hill.  I did so from a place of confusion, vulnerability and fear.  I did not understand what had happened or why, and I was not quite sure what I was supposed to do with that experience. 

Up until that point, my church experiences had been pretty positive. It was the thing I centered my life around, the place I made my friends, where I found purpose and meaning for my own life. 

Today, as I reflect on my experience I see that in comparison to many others (Andrew, Erin, Kip, Paul & Jonna Petry), I was fortunate. I left quickly, and managed to avoid church discipline (because we refused to meet with leaders). I understand why some might think that I have an ax to grind, that I am "bitter", or that perhaps I am making a bigger deal than need be made.

If that was the end of my story, I might agree. It is not.

My experience at Mars Hill and the loss of the friends I made was confusing and painful. I did not understand how Christian people could treat each other that way. Or how the hunger for power could overshadow friendship. I did not understand how people could cut friends out of their life for no good reason. And for a while, I believed that it was one bad experience and that I should just put it behind me. That is what I intended to do.

When my now good friend, Andrew, told his story, I realized that things were much worse than I had imagined. I received story after story similar to his. As if those stories were not enough, the thing that really did me in was the comments I received and the attack on my personal character and questioning of my salvation. Have you ever been called Satan first thing in the morning?

My Mars Hill experience was the first domino in a series of events that began the deconstruction of my faith. For someone who had a blind faith, the deluge of questions was alarming. What did I believe? What could I no longer believe? How do I get over the wall (see Stages of Faith)? Why isn't this working for me anymore? If God is good, and all powerful, why doesn't He take control?

There have been so many losses. How do I begin to recover? I must name them and grieve them.

I have lost my "rose-colored glasses".

I have lost the belief that Christians play by a certain set of "rules".

I have lost my sense of certainty about theology.

I have lost the feeling of belonging as an insider.

I have lost trust in leadership and become suspicious.

I have lost my desire to be in formal ministry of any kind.

I have lost my desire to attend church.

I have lost respect for an entire set of theological beliefs.

I have lost the belief that church friends will stick by me no matter where I am in my walk, and not judge me.

I have lost black and white thinking and the surety of absolute truth.

I have lost the feeling of being truly known by friends and feeling the freedom to just be me, whoever that is, today.

I have lost community.

I have lost my place of refuge.

I believe that acknowledging our losses is not enough. What have I gained? When I sift through the ashes, what beauty do I find?

I have gained an "underground railroad" of sorts...people who have been or are on this journey who understand me and are safe.

I have gained respect for other theological viewpoints.

I have realized that we are all wanderers, and that nobody knows all the answers.

I have gained confidence in my ability to discern the guiding of the Holy Spirit just as well as any leader, elder or pastor.

I have gained compassion for those that consider themselves outsiders and unaccepted by the church.

I have gained new perspective on political and social issues, such as women's issues, gay rights...and that to be Christian does not mean you must be a republican.

I have gained friendships with people whom I may not have become friends with (and would have previously judged)...and my life is richer for it.

I have gained respect for my own opinion and feelings, even if someone whom I want to validate them, won't.

I have realized that being a part of Christian Culture is much, much different than following Jesus....and I have chosen the latter, whatever that may look like and whatever it may cost.

I have gained unity in my marriage and the connection of having a shared viewpoint and experience.

I have gained the conviction that women should be free to use their spiritual gifts and be treated EQUALLY in the church...even if lots of people don't agree.

I have gained the empowerment to teach my daughter that she can do anything, and that God is not limiting her simply because she is female.

I believe that God is with me, in the depths.

I believe that He LOVES...more than I can fathom, in ways I cannot describe.

His GRACE is boundless, infinite and for all.

I believe that He wants us to be FREE.  Not just from sin and death.  From religion and guilt. From trying to live up to others expectations or rules.

I have learned that I am STRONG.

I have learned that I am BRAVE.

I like myself so, so much more now.

So as I reflect today, I realize that Mars Hill was The Best-Worst Thing That Ever Happened To Me.

I am finally grateful. I would not give it back and I would not go back to not knowing. It was a catalyst to becoming a person I actually want to be. I am more compassionate and empathetic, I am less judgmental, and I am most definitely more loving. If that is what it took, today, I can say I am grateful.

My Last Sunday Morning

"Bridge" ~ A Sophia Drawing by David Hayward (aka NakedPastor)

Originally written in July of 2012.

Yesterday was my last Sunday morning.
Not on earth (hopefully!). 
In church.

After we left THAT church, we tried several, none of which we could call home:

Too Big. Too small.
Too white. Too rich.
Too clique-y. Too mechanical.
Too liberal. Too conservative.
Too complementarian.
Too Calvinist. Too legalistic.
Too much of a cult of personality.
Too big of fans of Mark Driscoll (this is actually a big problem where we live).

We were exhausted.  My kids are introverts, and they were tired of going into different rooms full of strangers each Sunday.  So were my husband and I. No amount of Starbucks or trips to Krispy Kreme was worth the anxiety that church now created for us.

Once we decided that we would move home in a few months, the decision to take a break from church came easy. We felt good about the decision to use our Sunday mornings for family time with our kids. We anticipated that we would return to our home church when we moved. So we rested. We enjoyed our kids. We went to Disneyland.

Months have passed since we made that decision. For a while I have been curious about the liturgical church denominations. Many people I know have found refuge in them after leaving evangelical Christianity. I wondered if this might be a good fit for me. I was hesitant though. I was raised Catholic and became an evangelical. Would it be too reminiscent of Catholicism for me? Or would it be the perfect blend of the two?

I pushed down all the anxiety I felt about church and decided to give it a shot. Alone. I tried to go with an open mind and heart.

How did it go?

The music was nice and the people were not overbearing (nobody spoke to me at all). The liturgy was okay and I could follow along with the printout. Soon it was time for the sermon, and I tried to listen attentively. Honestly, though, I was bored out of my mind. I felt like I was going to burst. I was anxious, my heart pounded. I wanted to run out of there. I wanted the sermon to be over and had a hard time following the deacon's message. He spoke about the spirit giving us wisdom and discernment, and how we are different than normal people because of it. I get what he was trying to say, but it still bothered me.

"I AM A NORMAL PERSON!!!"  My spirit cried. I am just as confused, broken, lost, and hurting as anyone else. I am not any better, wiser, holier. I do feel the presence of the Spirit. For that I am grateful. But I am just like everyone else.

My anxiety continued to build and I decided I was going to make a break for it. I plotted my escape. As soon as the sermon ended I grabbed my extremely cute seatbelt bag and asked the usher where the restroom was located. As I washed my hands I felt so divided. I knew that I was standing at a crossroads.

I opened the restroom door and looked to my left. It was the way back to the sanctuary. I should go back. I knew what awaited me there.

Comfort. Security. Certainty. Restraints. Elitism. Judgment.

I looked to my right. It was a long hallway, and at the end was a door with a giant green exit sign above it. On the other side of the glass door was a wall. I could not see what was beyond it.

Freedom? Loneliness? Authenticity? A slippery slope? Judgment? Loss?

I took a deep breath, held my head high and turned...to my right. I was aware as I walked down that hallway toward the EXIT sign, that I very well maybe walking away from Sunday morning church for the last time.

I smiled and went to Starbucks.

*****

It's not that this particular church was bad. It really wasn't. I felt prompted to try it. I thought it was because maybe this was a good fit for me. But now I think that God wanted to settle this issue for me. Will I join another team or will I be a free agent? I have lots of amazing Christian friends who are outside of church and since we decided to take our break from church, I have been trying to make peace with this decision.

My relationship with the institutional church has been like an on again off again relationship with a mediocre boyfriend. We have grown apart. I am looking for something more. Something real and deep. I am afraid to be alone. To wait for it. So I go back. And then, we start the cycle all over again.

"It's not you, it's me."

In the past, I have always believed I was to blame. I have believed it is because I can't perform well enough, that my sinful nature is taking over. That I am rebellious and if I would just repent and do better everything will be fine.

This time, though is different.

"It's not you, it's me. Well, actually, that's not true. It's you too. You don't really know me. You criticize me. You are holding me back. You are tying me down. I am not being treated equally. I want to be known, to be loved, supported, given wings. I want deep connection and for all the trivial things not to get in the way. I don't think you can give me that."

I have been leaving institutional church my whole life. Then I try another "team" and try for a couple years to squeeze into that box. I did it in Catholic school, I did it at 25, and I am doing it again now. Maybe, instead of looking at this as "it is not working for me anymore", maybe the truth is that "it has never worked for me".

I love Jesus. I am dependent on the Holy Spirit to guide me. Even when I don't realize it, it is happening and I see it in hindsight. This is enough. And now I actually feel free to begin to shape my life and make choices about how I will live under that guidance.

The idea that we are somehow better, more enlightened, really bothers me. Maybe I am oversensitive the the elitism that is prevalent in Christianity due to some of my experiences. But I have heard this type of thing before, in almost every church I have ever attended, no matter the denomination. I realize that each denomination is a different box I am supposed to fit into and I just don't. A very wise and trusted friend once explained that we pick what feels good to us and find reasons (theology or denominations) to back up our beliefs...And I have been thinking about that a lot. Isn't that what everyone is doing, no matter the denomination or God(s)?

I think the decision to walk away from institutional church is a difficult one to make. I very much love the friends I have from my old church back home, and if I was making this decision there it would be even more difficult for me. I don't think it is the right answer for everyone, I think it is personal. Many people have  had bad experiences and have been able to find refuge in another church. And when children are involved, it is even more complicated. But for me personally, I feel like all that stuff is just complicating things and taking my focus off of Jesus. It is hard for me to separate God and the things people do in his name (both good and bad). It is distracting and guilt-ridden and not a place where I feel I can be honest about where I am and what I have experienced. I cannot say I will NEVER ever go to church regularly for the rest of my life, but for this season and as far into the future as I can see, I am walking away.

I have considered going, just to go, because we see some benefit in it. I have considered sneaking in for the last set of worship. The conclusion I come to time and again is that it seems like such a waste of time and energy for me. We stress out to get our family of 5 there on time. Then, when I am there, I either feel disconnected or like I have to play a role. I would get more out of Sunday morning if I went to the beach alone and walked, searched for sea glass and prayed. My husband would get more connection with God from paddle boarding. There are so many more amazing things I could do with that time then spend it somewhere that causes so much anxiety, confusion, and sometimes pain.

What if...
We made burritos and distribute them to the homeless in our community?
We took the money we might give to the church (salaries & operating expenses) and regularly buy diapers for a single mother whose child has cancer?
We met "normal" people and help meet their practical needs (whatever they may be)?

And I wonder...

What would I have done if I was not burden by the man-made doctrines and the guilt and shame? 

Would I have more education? 

Would I have impacted people who are really down and out rather than living in my safe little bubble?

Would I have simply enjoyed my life more without feeling driven to perform well as a good Christian?

So how about you? Why do you stay? Why have you left?

Dear Mr. Driscoll

This is a post I originally wrote anonymously (as Sophia) for Rachel Held Evans #mutuality2012.  It is one of my favorites. Hope you enjoy. <3

I know you are not expecting this, but I wanted to thank you.  Yes, seriously.

I had no idea that my experience at Mars Hill would serve as the catalyst to unraveling the bondage of legalism and exposing the patriarchal teachings that have held me captive for most of my life.

When I first arrived at the Mars Hill church plant, I was excited! You have built quite an empire with impressive media and great marketing.  Mars Hill has the resources to help a massive number of people not only find Jesus but change their lives.  I anticipated God using me in great ways through your ministry.  When we moved, I hoped to see women break free of bondage and walk in freedom.

At one of the first gatherings, the pastor presented us with the four distinctives of Mars Hill: Reformed theology, complementarian relationships, Spirit-filled lives, and missional churches. On the surface, this seemed great! A church that knows where it is going and what it stands for.  I was new to reformed theology, but open to learn.  Spirit-filled lives? Sign me up! Missional churches that are purposeful about the gospel? Amen.

Complementarian relationships? Well, I had never heard this term before.  It was presented well.  Men and women are different.  We do different things and have different qualities.  Since my husband and I had chosen, for this season of our lives, traditional roles (where he works and I stay home with our children), complementarian roles seemed to affirm the choices we had made for our family.  I respected that men were trying to step up and participate, since we all know that women have been and still are the backbone of the church.

It took me a few months to become uneasy.  There were several things that happened.

My community group leader showed irritation when I spoke up at group or challenged him on things he said.  I was often dismissed as making excuses or wanting an emotional experience.

I began to notice the way the women almost always said, "Let me ask my husband", and did not seem to have a mind of their own.  

As women, we were not allowed input as to what would be the first bible study we did.  It was dictated to us by a (very young) man.  The winner?  The book of James.

I was only welcome to participate in ministry if it was with children or women.

We were taught that if we had questions, we should go to our husbands.  We were not directed to search the scriptures for ourselves, or to wrestle it out with God.

ALL of the women seemed oppressed, stifled and silenced.  And they masked it with a smile, Stepford-style.

And the most alarming? That to veer from the expectations of complementarian relationships as Mars Hill defined them was considered SIN.

As you and I both know, there are many other issues I had with Mars Hill.  My experience caused me to begin to question my beliefs.  Were they truly mine or did I just believe them because someone told me I should?  I have been able to make peace with many of them.

Complementarianism?  NOT SO MUCH.

I cannot believe that God created me or my daughter the way we are, with our intellects, gifts and talents, and then relegates us to domesticity and silence simply because we are female.

I cannot believe that Jesus' sacrifice on the cross was not sufficient for Eve's behavior in the garden.

I cannot believe that a God who empowered women and broke social and religious norms in His time on earth, has relegated women to second class citizenry for our time on earth.

I cannot believe that women are weak.  I (and many women like me) have survived things in my life that you will never have to experience, and carried burdens to heavy for your masculine shoulders to bear.

I cannot believe that there is any barrier between me and God or my ability to hear from the Holy Spirit.  Not even my femininity.

So thank you, Mr. Driscoll. You truly are a catalyst for change.

Thank you for forcing me to evaluate all that I have believed.

Thank you for showing me that complementarianism is simply patriarchy in a shiny new package.

Thank you for inadvertently leading me to embrace my God-given femininity and full personhood in Christ.

Thank you for being the adversity I needed to finally become empowered and find my voice in all its womanly glory.

Thank you for accidentally teaching me to stand up for myself, my convictions and to implicitly trust that my heart is in fact, not deceitful, but trustworthy. The Holy Spirit dwells there, after all.

Thank you for taking me to the precipice and pushing me off the edge.

You accidentally gave me wings, and I am learning I can fly.

On My Kids and Religion

photo by Shelly Gibbons

Earlier this year, I had to remove my kids from a family service because the pastor kept talking about ultimate death. My 5 year old son, with a very concerned look on his sweet little face, turned to me and asked, "Mom, what's ultimate death?". My husband immediately took them to the bounce house area, as Ben is the type of kid who will ruminate on ultimate death every night before he goes to sleep, for weeks.  That was the first time I felt like I needed to protect my children at church.

So a few months ago, while we were eating dinner, Ben asked, "How do you get rid of your fears?" We talked about how courage means facing things despite our fear. With that same worried look he had about ultimate death, he asked, "How do you get rid of your sins?" Brian and I looked at each other and explained how God had taken care of them already and that if we make a mistake we say we are sorry. He then asked, "What if I forget to say I am sorry?" And we explained that you just have to be sorry in your heart, there are no magic words. 

Later that evening, Ben was playing in the living room.  He was obviously still troubled and asked, "But how do I wash away my sins?"  If only you could have seen the look of concern on his sweet little face. We reassured him as we did before that he did not need to worry about that. 

Can I just tell you, I was ANGRY! At myself, mostly, at churches, all of it. HE IS 5! He should not be worried about his SIN!  He should be thinking about bugs, and Star Wars, and fighter planes.  He should be dreaming about what he will build next with his Legos and if he will get to play at his friend's house this week.  He should be confident in the LOVE of God. He should not be burdened with SIN and DEATH at 5 years old.  I find this cruel, and it will take time for me to forgive myself for allowing this to happen.

I do know that Brian and I have not burdened our young children about SIN and DEATH. It was at that moment that I started questioning...

Do I even want to be an evangelical?

Do I trust Sunday school teachers not to load him down with a bunch of legalistic guilt and shame?

If I would EVER want to subject my kids to this? 

Jesus, yes! Fear, guilt and shame in His name? NO! Parenting always seemed so cut and dried...and there are thousands of Christian books on how to do it properly. The very thing I trusted to give me a framework to raise "good" kids had become suspect.

I know so many pastor's kids and adults who grew up in the church, and guess what?  They are human, with sins and issues just like every other person.  There are no guarantees. I have learned that those who were raised to see God as a scary guy in the sky, wagging his finger at us, usually walk away completely or spend the rest of their lives trying to perform well, only to walk around with a sense of pervasive guilt.

I am all screwed up from the legalistic guilt and shame I learned as a kid, and I am just trying to unravel it at 35 years old. What if my kids didn't have to do that? I worry that if they are subjected to the guilt and shame a lot of Christians like to dish out in the name of God, (especially the popular Calvinistic view right now), that they too will become slaves to it.

A friend of mine, Christine, asked me:

"So, if the framework you had before to raise good kids has proven faulty, can you trust yourself to build your own framework?"

Most of us leave childhood with a lot of things we want to emulate, and many things we hope to do differently. I ruminated a lot on this question. I wasn't sure I could trust myself (that is a whole other topic), and as most parents do, worried that if I didn't have a plan to follow, that I would get it all wrong.

"Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome." ~Hope Floats

I  can definitely see why the plethora of Christian books touting, "Five easy steps to great kids!", and a set of black and white rules has been so attractive to me.  

Brian and I spent a lot of time talking about this. 

What if instead of loading our children down with guilt and shame and telling them how and what to believe, we respected their journey, and gently guided them as they wrestle with these questions, with God?

What if we actually admitted that we don't know all the answers, that it is confusing to us as well? What if we presented them with all the information? This is what some people think, this is what other people think, and here is what I think and why I think it?

What if we respected the person-hood of our children and encouraged them to explore their ideas and questions, instead of making sure they come to the exact same understanding we have? 

What if we taught them that they are basically good (Genesis 1) and sometimes, they will blow it (Genesis 3) rather than teaching them total depravity and the sucks-to-be-you gospel?

Do we trust that we indeed have the indwelling Holy Spirit of God living in us? Can we trust that Spirit to guide our decisions in parenting?

Do we think God is pleased if our children choose to be Christians out of fear, guilt, shame and being manipulated? Or do we think that God would prefer that they came to him with a sense of awe, appreciation, wonder and love?

The truth is, each of our children have their own journey and developing relationship with God. We can try to control it and them through fear, guilt and shame, or we can nurture it. We can encourage them to make mistakes and be wrong as they explore the nature of an infinite God.

Brian and I don't claim to have all the answers. We do know that our goal is to allow our children autonomy in their spiritual development. We want to teach them to love without limits or conditions. We do not want to teach them to go to church, we want to teach them to BE the church. We want them be the kind of Christians that have true friendships with people of all religions, sexual orientations and races. We do not want them to be afraid of people who are outside of the Christian sub-culture.

We want them to know that Love trumps theology...

EVERY SINGLE TIME.

On Finding Grace

Today was one of those days.  You know, the kind where the only thing you are grateful for is that His mercies are new every morning.  I could list out all the things that happened, but suffice it to say that I left the day feeling defeated, like a failure.
Now those who know me, know that I am a proponent of grace. I LOVE grace! My Facebook friends will attest that exactly 56.3% of the things I post have to do with grace (and yes, that is an accurate mathematical statistic). I am the first to encourage a struggling friend to extend themselves grace. I even used it as part of my alias, Sophia Grace!
Yet, today, I realized that the only person I do not extend that same grace to is my SELF. I found myself berating all the things I did, or all of the ways I had failed.  I kept trying to find grace, but it eluded me.  By the time Brian got home, I was a hot mess, reduced to tears.
I know that I am not alone in this, I see it every day. People encourage and uplift others but do not extend themselves the same courtesy. I know so many who are striving constantly but feel like they can never perform quite well enough. Why do we do this?

Is it the teaching of total depravity? Could it be that we believe more in our original sinfulness (Genesis 3), than in our original goodness (Genesis 1)?

Is it because we do not really believe that His grace is sufficient and made perfect in our weakness?

Or perhaps it is that many of us sit in churches where we are taught that we are saved by grace, but then we are instructed on what we must do to be good Christians?

What if we made loving our SELVES the starting point? (I know, this goes against all of our religious sensibilities!)

Would we not then, be able to love our neighbors so much better?

If we truly embraced the grace that was so freely given to us, I believe that our capacity to LOVE would be multiplied.

On Being Sophia

Sophia's "Metamorphosis" by David Hayward (aka nakedpastor)

Do you think a butterfly feels fear right before she emerges from her cocoon?
Do you think she worries what the other caterpillars will say?
Does she know, before she emerges, that she has been beautifully transformed?

***

I have written this post in my mind a thousand times in a thousand different ways. I have worked up the courage, only to have it slip through my fingers.

Today is my birthday and I find myself longing to be free.
I am tired of being divided, of hiding parts of myself from my friends.
I am tired of imagining reactions and fearing further loss.

The truth is...I AM  SOPHIA .

Early this year, in response to a comment made on The Wartburg Watch (a Christian blog), I decided to (anonymously) share  my story  about my experience at Mars Hill Church.  Since I left, I had struggled with what to do with what had occurred.  Brian and I wanted to just forget about it and move on, but based on stories we had come across, we knew that our experience was not an isolated incident.  What about single young women?  What about new Christians who have never had any other church experience? If this or something like it happened to them, would they continue their Christian walk? What kind of damage is this causing to others?  How can we just walk away and be glad that we "dodged the bullet"?

I had already submitted my story several days before it came out.  I simultaneously started the Mars Hill Refuge blog, which I thought would be some obscure little piece of the internet. I had no idea that just one day prior to my story being told, Matthew Paul Turner would write about Andrew's discipline contract and shunning.  I could not have imagined the chain of events that would follow.

Shortly after the release of my story, The Stranger wrote an article about Lance.  In that article, my blog was linked (without my prior knowledge).  This was followed by The Slate Article, which was picked up by the Huffington Post.  Then many of us were contacted to participate in the KOMO News Story.

The result of all of this unsolicited publicity following the telling of my story has been a response I couldn't have predicted.  People have come forward with their stories in large numbers.  Some are posted here on the site, and some have been shared privately.  The response has been overwhelming, and each time I have wanted to quit, to walk away from it all, I receive another email, and I know that I was called for such a time as this.

For so long, I have feared telling my friends about the last year of my life. I have worried about losing more friendships for speaking out against Mars Hill.  It is one thing to get nasty comments (like being called Satan) on the internet or to lose friends you only had for a short while, but the fear of losing the people you love the most is paralyzing.

I have lost so much this year.  I lost the security of my hometown and my longtime friendships.  I lost the friends I made at Mars Hill when I knew no one. I have lost my sense of certainty about many of my beliefs and have lost confidence in the institutional church.

I have also gained so much!  I have made so many amazing friends I've never met, I have gained self-respect, conviction and clarity.  I have learned that I have a voice, that I have something important to say.  I have learned that I am BRAVE!  I am very proud of the woman I have become.

There are many things I am not sure of, but I am sure that I am right where I need to be, in this very moment.  I am sure that God wants us to be free, more free than I have ever believed.

I am sure that LOVE trumps all.