writing

Be The One

Last week in church, we finished our final section of our study called “For The One.” This is a rebranding for our church, as before our slogan was “For the Basin” referencing the Permian Basin, for those readers that aren’t familiar with west Texas. This study had five areas we want to exemplify as Christians:

  • Follow the One
  • Reach the One
  • Serve the One
  • Gather as One
  • Be the One

Each week we studied one of these areas and learned the importance of each of these areas and how they are fundamental to not only the church, but to our individual walks with God. Sundays final lesson, “Be the One” focused on spiritual maturity and how we obtain spiritual maturity. Our pastor, Jeremiah, spoke about what spiritual maturity is and what it is not. It’s not really like Jeremiah to call anyone out, but he was a bit more fiery than usual.

He told us spiritual maturity isn’t about how long you’ve been a Christian, how much Bible knowledge you have, how elevated your morality is, or how deeply spiritual you are. This touched on so many issues we have in the church today. Things that deter new Christians from finding their sense of belonging within the church. Statements like “well I’ve been here for X amount of years so I know what’s best” or “I go to church so I’m clearly a better person than they are.” “I raise my hands and worship more openly so I clearly have a better connection with God” or “WELL ACTUALLY the Bible says blah blah blah.” I’m sure all of us at some point have heard something along these lines. We’ve all heard something that has made us feel inferior in our faith walk.

I think in today’s society we’ve become stuck in what’s called the bystander effect. This term was coined when a Kitty Genovese was being attacked and sexually assaulted outside her apartment complex. After her murder, police found that 38 people witnessed the violent attack, yet no one called the police or even went to help her. Majority of people said “I thought someone else would call/help her.” The attacker was detoured twice by lights coming on in the building but ultimately returned to Kitty for a third time to stab her to death. This is why during emergency situations, with any sort of training (CPR, EMT, etc) you are trained to point to one person and instruct them to call the police because in theory, most people will assume someone else will do it. If you elect one single person to call it eliminates varying stories about the events as well as the inaction of every person present.

How many times in our lives do we refuse to help someone we see suffering or struggling in life because we assume that someone else is going to do it? We’ve become a world of “not my problem.” I can tell you I’ve lost people in my life because all of us thought “not my problem, someone else will help them.” Even outside the realm of religion and spirituality, being “The One” for someone could save them. Being that one person who takes the time to show love and compassion to someone who is stuck or hurt could result in a single defining moment that changes everything for them. We need to ask ourselves every time we hesitate “If not me, then who?” Most of the time, there is not another “who.”

Our life is made up of small moments. Singular interactions where we only have minutes to change the path someone is going down. So step out of your comfort zone and reach out to someone the next time you feel that inkling that they’re needing someone to be their one.

More Amateur Writing

Since I’ve been trying to put myself out there more, I figured I’d share another piece I started writing over a year ago. I’m not super thrilled with the beginning, but it’s a work in progress. Also, untitled. That’s one thing I struggle with is titles. But any who, without further ado, one of the first pieces I ever wrote about baby mama drama.

To the girl that kicked my man to the curb like a expired coupon she could no longer cash in:

Literally she could no longer cash in on him. The ATM read “insufficient funds” so instead of waiting for your investment to be returned, you closed your account and thought maybe you could receive a stimulus you didnt earn. Like maybe after the account was closed, you’re debit card might still work.

You are what I would noramlly call a lost soul, but I’ve had my experience with lost souls and you are not one of them. They are at least redeemable. If anything you are a originator of the emptiness to those in your life but you think you are the healer to bring the end to their pain so you squeeze harder and harder thinking you’re stopping the bleeding.

In reality you are suffocating them. Ok second thought let’s say you got burned by his blazing free spirit and there was a chance you could justify the wickedness that poured from your mouth. However, you seemed to like the sear your skin made against his fire because you’ve never felt genuine warmth before so you refused to pull away. You poked and prodded hoping to burn him down faster and you didn’t care if you went down in flames too. I would compare your mouth to gasoline but it’s more like a blow torch you’ve permanently ignited and you can’t quite figure out how to turn it off so you’ve go around setting people on fire because you think if they are turned to ash they’ll finally be at your eye line. Then you would no longer need to drag other’s to your level.

Raise Your Words, Not Your Voice

For anyone that hasnt heard yet, my boyfriend has started a blog. Not sure how that’s gonna turn out, but I think it will be great. Last night he was asking me why I don’t have more of my poetry on my blog and if I had written anything recently. Welllllllll…….. the answer is no I haven’t written anything recently and I’m very self conscious about my writing. I’ve found that my writing is how I process my emotions and recently I haven’t felt the need or want to process anything, which isn’t always the healthiest approach. My poetry tends to be spontaneous and extremely emotional based so I’m never quiet sure if it’s actually good. Sometimes it’s to process my depression or my anxiety. Sometimes it’s to convey passion or love. I’m also very particular with my words. I have this deeply spiritual connection with words. So like lyrics of a song hit me more than the music itself. Honestly, its one of the ways I feel closet to God. I feel like it’s one of the ways I hear him the clearest.

I think I worry Anthony a bit when we’re in church because during worship I feel this incredibly rush of emotions and the music speaks to me so I usually end up crying. I always feel like his protective instinct kicks in and he tries to check on me, but in reality that’s my happy place. Listening to words being weaved together to express how I feel in my soul and it being so powerful that the only appropriate response for me is tears. In that limbo where you feel God’s presence and warmth and it’s like everything in your outside life doesn’t matter anymore or whatever you are feeling is validated and God hears you. For example, we went to Christmas Eve service and I was 2 days into hearing I was miscarrying and I still hadnt passed any of the miscarriage so I was in this weird in between grief stage. I wasnt feeling good physically and I was being so short with everyone, but I put on my church clothes and went anyway. We were singing this song called “God With Us” by Jesus Culture and the lyrics of the song say:

Where there was death, You brought life, Lord
Where there was fear, You brought courage
When I was afraid, You were with me
And You lifted me up, and You lifted me up

So here I am trying to hold the weight of the world on my shoulders back and we hit this part of the song and I felt God tell me it was okay to let it go. That it was okay to be scared and hurt and angry because over all of that, he had me. I probably looked like a lunatic to my step daughter because I just started bawling and letting those words become my mantra. I wish I could say I was healed in that instance, but I think it was the first time I came to God with my hurt and my pain. For someone that loves words, I really have a hard time vocalizing how I feel and I don’t think it’s because I don’t have the words, but more because I’m very intentional with my words and if I verbalize how I feel then there’s no taking it back. It’s out there and I have to deal with it. So in hopes of helping to further heal from my miscarriage a bit, I figured I’d try and write something. It’s literally off the cusp so it’s not my best and it’s untitled, but here goes nothing.

The day I lost you I was asked “When are you gonna have kids?”

I smiled through the pain and said “Maybe some day.”

I spent my day mentally burying you while carrying on with my work.

Continually pretending I was put together, but I was really held together by a single thread that was begging to be tugged at by anyone who asked if I was okay.

Every ache and pain was a harsh reminder that my body had failed you and that I would not be meeting you in August.

I would spend my summer distracting myself to keep from pretending you’d still be on your way.

I never felt you move or saw your face, but in the short time span I had you, you were mine.

I saw the future of your life play out and prayed you would have your dads courage and my love for people.

With bright blue eyes and sandy blonde hair and smile that was electric.

I never found out what you were, but my heart tells me you would’ve been a boy.

A Leo with a heart of gold that was fearless and too competitive for his own good.

It took less than thirty seconds for you to disappear from my world and all the dreams turn to ash.

The ash was okay because I wanted to watch the world burn so it was welcomed company.

Thankfully, your dad made sure I didnt stay there long and with some help from my closest friends, I came to terms with the fact that God gets to know you first.

I know you’re up there with all the babies our family has lost to show you the ropes and all four of your great grandparents to spoil you.

I don’t know if you grow up in heaven, but if you do, I couldn’t think of a better place to do it.

Surrounded by love and the best lullabies you can think of, sung by the angels.