God is NOT a dick!

So, this "cute" little story / allegory / whatever you want to call it showed up across my Facebook news feed today, shared by one of my friends.

I keep thinking about that story of the little girl with the fake pearls. A five-year-old girl bought her very own plastic pearl necklace with her very own money that she saved all year long. The little girl loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Her mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green. The pearls weren’t real but it didn’t matter to the little girl. She had bought them herself!The little girl had a very loving father. One day he said, “Sweetheart, do you love me?”“Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you.”“Then give me your pearls.”“Not my pearls! You can have my toy horse.”“That’s okay, Honey. Daddy loves you.” And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.About a week later, the little girl’s father asked again, “Do you love me?”“Daddy, you know I love you.”“Then give me your pearls.”“Not my pearls. You can have my baby doll.”“That’s okay. Daddy loves you.” And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.This happened over and over and the little girl wondered anxiously, “If he loves me, why does he want to take away something I love?”Eventually, the little girl nervously and teary eyed walked up to her father and held out her fake pearl necklace. “Here, Daddy. This is for you.”The father reached out with one hand to take the imitation pearl necklace and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to his daughter. He had had them all the time, but was waiting for her to give up what she had to give her something even better.I’ve been wondering lately if what I cling to and am so afraid of losing are actually fake pearls…and when the time comes when I’m willing to lay them down and give them up, then God will be able to do immeasurably more than I could ask or imagine. (Copied from Kathystock.com)

 And as I read the story, all I could think to say was... this dad is a DICK!  He's a JERK!  What a mean, cruel thing to do to your daughter!  He's playing games with her to make her "prove" that she loves him before he gives her this amazing gift he got her.  Also, why the hell can't she keep her plastic pearls and still have the real ones? Is there some law against having both?  The plastic pearls for every day, the real pearls for special occasions? Because, remember, she wears her fake pearls all the time and never takes them off.  You really think daddy dearest is gonna let her do that with real pearls?  A FIVE YEAR OLD???  I'm not sure a five year old is actually even going to see real pearls as a better gift than fake pearls.

But so many, many evangelicals have this view of God, that God is very like this father.  That God, in fact, is a dick, a jerk, a sociopath who makes us "prove" our love over and over and over before giving us blessings.  Oh, they'd never admit that, they'd never use those words... but that's the attitude they have towards God.  I know, because that's the attitude I had towards God.  I had to bend over backwards to please Him, never even knowing exactly where the mark was so I could hit it, and if I did one thing wrong he'd "discipline" me by allowing me to go through terrible trials, but if I got it all right, then he'd (maybe) give me blessings.

And one day, I woke up, and I said "if that is what God is like, then he's a bully and a tyrant.  Bullies and tyrants deserve to be opposed, not worshiped."  And I spent a year or so wrestling within myself, trying to decide if God was even real, and if he was, was he good.

God met me one day, where my soul was crying out, and reassured me that God is good, fully good, and fully loving.  That he loves me, that he wouldn't pull the kind of shenanigans described in the story.  I'm sorry, but if THAT is your God, I reject him wholeheartedly.  Fortunately, God is NOT a dick!  He's loving, and holy, and good, and he is absolutely not going to force me to prove my love to him through sadistic tests before he demonstrates his love in return.

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?  If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! Matthew 7:9-11

March Madness

It's time for March Madness, everybody!  Fill out your brackets, root for your favorite team, and get ready for a wild ride!!!!

Oh wait, not everybody is as basketball crazy as we are at my house?  You're forgiven.  I wasn't really basketball crazy either until I married Lee.  I had to learn to be basketball crazy in self defense.  Baseball crazy too, but I've got a couple weeks before the season starts.  Fortunately for me, it ends there.  Lee isn't really much of a football or hockey or soccer fan.

I've really been thinking about the way other people influence our own likes and dislikes, and particularly how that works when parents are the ones influencing their children.  So I'm breaking it down into the microcosm of sports.

So Apparently An Education Doesn't Really Last Forever

I’m dealing with some frustrations right now due to my husband’s student loans.  See, my husband graduated 3 years ago, and for the past 3 years, has looked for a job in his field. Unfortunately, his field is pastoring.  See, my husband got a degree in religion, which is 100% useless unless you want to be a pastor.  Which he does.  But for 3 years he’s worked a series of minimum wage jobs, trying to keep a roof over our heads while he hunts for a pastoring job.  Due to health concerns, he hasn’t even always managed to do that much.  I just graduated in August, so I’m able to pick up some of the slack now, but it was a tough three years.

During those three years, his student loan payments were beyond our reach.  We tried doing hardship deferments, income based payments, whatever, but somehow some paperwork slipped through the cracks and one of his loans ended up in default anyway.  So now that he’s finally come through the other side of his health issues, and is trying to pick up the pieces of the last few years, he’s trying to figure out what to do with his life.  Pretty much all of the options involve going back to school somehow.  So he’s been applying to different programs, just to explore his options and see what’s a good fit, and his college WON’T RELEASE HIS TRANSCRIPTS because his loan is in default.

The 2013 Oscars and Seth MacFarlane's "We Saw Your Boobs" Skit

Due to the fact that my husband is a huge Walking Dead fan, I didn't get to watch much of the Oscars last night.  Between the new episode of Walking Dead and the follow-up discussion show Talking Dead, the hours of 9 to 11 were already spoken for.  After that, I just went to bed, although I hear the Oscars lasted for like 3 and a half hours this year, so I guess I could have still watched a good chunk of it.  As it is, though, the only part of the Oscars I watched was Seth MacFarlane’s opening bit.  I watched it because I've become a bit of a Seth MacFarlane fan ever since he hosted SNL recently, and because the opening bit of the Oscars is always the best part (though if you ask me nothing will ever beat the year Hugh Jackman hosted.)

The point is I watched Seth MacFarlane’s opening monologue.  And I was uncomfortable, deeply uncomfortable, with his “We Saw Your Boobs” musical number.  But I couldn't quite put my finger on why.  It remained with me all day (not the least of reasons because it was so dang catchy).  Something bothered me.  Something upset me.  Something made me uncomfortable, and I was loathe to admit it.  After all, it was supposed to be funny.  It was a joke.  Supposedly those “reaction” shots of celebrities he mentioned were staged, faked for the sake of the joke inside the joke, the joke that the song that Seth MacFarlane sang was crass and unprofessional and “ruined” the Oscars.  (So Meta, right?)  But something made me go… that wasn't funny.  That crossed a line.  But I couldn't articulate, even to myself, why I felt it crossed a line, so I worried I was being too over-sensitive.  I checked the blogs I usually read.  When there’s an egregious display of sexism in pop culture, I can usually count on them to be all over it, to parse it, to explain to me what I was already feeling, deep down, but couldn't express.  But nobody seems to be talking about this one.  So I thought, and I thought, and I thought some more.  I started to feel like Winnie the Pooh when he thinks too hard.  And finally, I figured it out.

Seriously, How Is This The Government's Fault?

I believe I've mentioned that I work at a grocery store and frequently have to deal with people’s unpleasantness while I’m checking them out.  My absolute least favorite customer to deal with is the one who goes on a political rant.

As a side bar, why are the nut-jobs who go on political rants to unsuspecting check out workers always conservatives?  I’m not saying there are no ranting liberal nut-jobs out there… there totally are and I don’t like them any better than I like conservative ones, even if I’m more likely to agree with the spirit of what they’re saying, though not the content or the tone.  Yes, I lean liberal, and I’m not ashamed of it, but I feel it is important to admit my biases.  Okay, disclaimer over.

I Know What's Best For You

Little Olivia has been giving Lee and I a problem lately.  She just hasn't been sleeping enough.  She wakes up at 6:00 in the morning (sometimes 5:30) no matter what time we put her to bed.  This would be bad enough if it was just her biological clock resetting, because Hubby and I are not morning people and don’t like being up that early.  But it’s worse, because she’s not a morning person either.  In the two weeks she’s been doing this, the pattern has been that she wakes up around 6ish, is cranky, and crabby, and angry all morning, throwing tantrum after tantrum over the smallest things.  Then if we’re lucky she takes a nap and she’s back to her normal, sunny self all afternoon.  If we’re not lucky, she’s too tired and cranky to fall asleep, and she’s awful all day long until bedtime.

On Holiday Greetings

Well, if anyone was counting, then you know my previous blog post was just a smidge shy of 500 words.  That means tonight you get a twofer!  So before I have to wait a whole year for this post to be relevant again, here are my thoughts on holiday greetings and the “war” on Christmas.  Or, you know, I could just stop here, as I’ve now hit my word quota.  But that would be teasing. And cheating. So here goes.

I work retail, specifically, in a grocery store.  That means I interact with a couple hundred customers a day.  And that means I have to navigate the minefield that is wishing someone well during the holiday season.  There are so many choices.  I could go with “Season’s Greetings!”  I could go with “Happy Holidays!”  I could go with “Merry Christmas!”  I could go with “Cool Yule!” (Okay, no I couldn’t.  I’m not awesome enough to make that happen… but someone somewhere needs to).

New Year's Resolutions

Well, I can pretty much say without a doubt that 2012 was the worst year of my life.  Here’s to 2013 being better.  I started this blog back in early August with the best of intentions.  Life really got in the way.  Just after I started the blog, my husband was hospitalized for a week for suicidal and homicidal thoughts.  He spent several months trying to find the correct diagnosis and the correct medicines, and during that time my little family had to survive on my income alone.  Yeah, here’s the thing… I worked at McDonalds.  We got kicked out of our house, we spent many nights wondering where our next meal was going to come from, and through it all I had to take care of my husband and my daughter with very little help.  Needless to say the stress kept me from this blog.

Why I Was Ashamed to Call Myself a Christian Today

As I’ve said, I grew up as an evangelical Christian and recently went through a crisis of faith where I very seriously considered atheism.  I came through my crisis and still consider myself a Christian, though not an evangelical Christian.  I’m working out what all of my beliefs are, but the core belief is set.  I do believe in Jesus Christ.  Sometimes, however, I’m really quite ashamed to consider myself part of the group known as Christians, mostly when people who call themselves Christians do unbelievably stupid, rude, or hateful things.  Today was one of those days.

I work in a fast food restaurant.  It’s not the worst job in the world, but I don’t think it’s anyone’s idea of an ideal job.  Today I was cooking French fries, and the fryer is right next to the drive thru window, so I got a firsthand view of an ignorant Christian doing an ignorant thing.  As they were coming through the drive thru and as they were picking up their food, they handed my friend Ken, the drive thru worker, a tract and started preaching at him, asking him if he knew Jesus or whatever Christians tend to use as their opening line when they have negative five seconds to get their point across and get someone “saved.”  Ken’s a pretty good natured guy.  He laughed it off, since he’s pretty firm in his pagan beliefs, and the manager made the car pull on ahead.  After that, I put my head in my hands and said “sometimes, I’m ashamed to call myself a Christian.”

On Gymnastics and Gender Roles

I’m starting this post with a big huge congratulations to gold medal winner Gabby Douglas and to the whole U.S. women’s gymnastics team.  I was so proud to watch the beautiful artistry and athleticism of each and every athlete, and I was happy to be part of history.  An Olympic three-peat for the U.S. in women’s individual all-around, the first black individual all-around gold medalist, and the first year the U.S. won both the team and individual gold medals.  And I watched every moment of it!  Why did I watch every moment?  Because I loooooooooove gymnastics!

And here comes the gender roles discussions.  Gymnastics is typically considered a “girly” thing to like. (Even though men’s gymnastics is equally impressive, especially events like pommel horse which don’t even exist in women’s gymnastics).  It would be easy to say “Oh, Marian likes gymnastics because she’s a girl and girls like gymnastics.”  It would be easy to say that, but it wouldn’t be all true.  Why do I like gymnastics?

Because when I was seven years old, I watched the Magnificent Seven bring home the first U.S. women’s team gold medal.  I watched as Kerri Strug sprained her ankle, then bravely performed that beautiful vault and stuck that landing one-footed, and then had to be carried off because she was in so much pain.  My imagination was captured, inspired, and ever since that day I have been unapologetically in love with gymnastics.  A lot of people like gymnastics.  A lot of people my age probably like gymnastics for the same reason I do—the 1996 Olympic gymnastics team inspired them and ever since then they’ve just enjoyed the sport.  But this is my story, and this is why I like gymnastics.  If you assume it’s just because I’m a girl, you miss out on getting to know the real me.

Allow Me to Introduce Myself

There's a little bit about who I am in my profile, but let me share a little more about myself.  After all, it's more fun talking with a friend than a stranger, and I hope that all my readers will become like friends.

So I'm 23 and I just graduated college.  I got a degree in sociology and eventually want to become a counselor, but between now and grad school down the road, I'm looking for a job in the human services field.  My favorite thing in the whole world is curling up with a good book and getting lost in it.  (Usually with a bag of popcorn or chips or something... I'm working on that part!)  I like stereotypically girly things, like shoes and the color purple, and I like some stereotypically guy things too, like video games.  I've been married for five years now... just celebrated an anniversary actually!  So let me introduce you to my husband next.

He's 24, the cutest guy I've ever met.  He graduated college two years ago with a degree in religion, and is working at our local church part time as a volunteer youth pastor so he can get some experience.  He and I actually grew up together from the time I was 8 and he was 9.  We've been best friends ever since his mom started babysitting my little brother and me.  We got married when I was 18 and he was 19, but we make it work!  His name is Lee, and he's the best daddy to our little girl.  So without further ado, I present...

Olivia, the smartest, most beautiful, most mischievous little girl in the whole world.  Obviously I'm biased, but I think she's pretty special.  She's 21 months old, and currently her favorite toy is a rubber snake.  She even sleeps with it some nights!  Her favorite things are dancing, helping mommy do chores, and visiting the farm animals next door, especially "Togg" the sheep.  She amazes me every day with the things she picks up, and I'm lucky to have her in my life.

So that's me and my little family in a nutshell.  Now that you know us a little bit, stay awhile and I'm sure you'll learn more.

Much love,
Marian

Why "Values From Scratch"?

Welcome to my new blog.  Right now it doesn't look like much, but here's the plan.  I want this to be a safe place to have a conversation.  Conversations about life, about love, about religion, and about politics.  In short, conversations about values, and what people value in life.  If you're a Democrat or a Republican, a Christian or an Atheist, Single or Married, Dead or Alive, or any other category that doesn't fit into my nice literary dichotomies, I want you here.  In fact, I need you here, to join the conversation with me.

Because the safe place to have the conversation isn't for you, it's for me. Ah, see how selfish I am?  But truly, this is why the values are "from scratch."  Because I grew up my whole life as an evangelical Christian knowing exactly what I was supposed to believe.  Then about a year ago... I stopped.  I couldn't believe it anymore.  I didn't know what I believed.  I couldn't believe in God anymore, but I couldn't NOT believe in Him either.

Here's where I am now.  I'm still a Christian.  I do believe in God (most days).  But on a lot of issues that Christians care about, I feel uncertain.  In fact, I think the opposite about a lot of issues.  It's left me feeling like I don't fit in anywhere.  It's left me feeling like there's nowhere safe to sort through my beliefs, my values.  And it's left me feeling like there is no one to talk to, no one who will listen.

So if you're here, welcome.  Please listen.  Please talk.  Please join the conversation.  I don't have it all figured out yet but I'm excited to start the journey... and be part of the conversation.

Much love,
Marian