We Are All Human
We are all human. You're going to laugh at me, but that fact became starkly apparent to me this past week after watching the season finale of ABC's The Bachelor.
Full disclosure: I love Jesus, I love worship music, and I love listening to sermon podcasts. I also love me some Chris Harrison and indulging in the guilty pleasure that is the The Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise.
Whether you watch the show or not, you probably heard that last Monday was the season finale. Ben Higgins narrowed down his playing field to two women. Spoiler alert: he tells them both he loves them. He ultimately must decide who to propose to—he goes with Lauren, the woman he can't imagine life without. It's been four months since filming wrapped, and the happy couple is still together and planning a wedding, which is already somewhat of an anomaly in the Bachelor universe.
Now I don't believe in soulmates or "The One." I don't see The Bachelor as the ultimate way to find love or reach some elusive happily ever after. What I do see this show as is a fascinating look at the way we as a culture tend to think and behave, particularly when it comes to relationships.
While the show has been around for 30 seasons (yes, three-zero), I actually started watching only a few seasons ago. It became a fun way to spend time with girlfriends on Monday nights, and it also sparked some really thoughtful and serious conversations.
I became especially invested in this recent season because Bachelor Ben is a Christian. He's spoken openly about his faith, his church, and his relationship values on a regular basis. And not to brag or anything, but he and I also happen to have mutual friends, so I can confirm that his faith is the real deal.
But do I actually know the guy? Nope, never met him in my life. In my dreams? Now that's a different story…
My point is that I'm completely fascinated by Ben and his fiancée Lauren. I feel like I’ve been a part of their relationship since the day they met. I'm wrapped up in this couple’s life together as they navigate dating, engagement, and hopefully marriage, in a Christian context, while the whole country watches them do so.
The publicity and the pressure is enough to make anybody flinch.
Yet here I am at home on my couch, getting into spirited discussions with my friends over whether Ben and his fiancée live together. That's what US Weekly reported, guys, so it must be true.
If they live together, how well are they really representing the Christian faith? I mean they're good people and all, but, like, how much of Believers are they really?
They've prayed together on the show, and they recently gave an interview saying they pray together before bed. Immediately, my mind goes to, Of course they do because they're living together. They're celebrities now. They’ve sold out.
Whoa. Somebody pump the brakes before I drive this car off the road.
Who do I think I am? Who am I to judge?
I don't even know Ben and Lauren. I might think I do because I've been watching them for two hours a week the past three months. But I don't. The only people who know this couple’s true hearts are they themselves—and God.
"Being a Christian, there's a judgment factor placed on you."
That's what Ben told People magazine this week. And he's right—we are so quick to judge, even when as Christians that's exactly what we're called not to do. Judging is one of our favorite pastimes. It's easy. Second-nature even. It makes me sad that we can be known for being judgmental when we serve a God who hung out with societal rejects. He didn’t just hang out with the lepers, the prostitutes, and the tax collectors. He loved them and treated them as equals.
It’s hard to remember that when we live in a world defined by hierarchy.
The Bachelor/The Bachelorette series is a manifestation of this. The process of highly manufactured romance might lead to lasting love and it might not, but ultimately the shows are based on competition and comparison.
In fact, at the time of the Bachelor reunion show (when all the rejected female contenders go on TV to talk about their experience), one woman from Ben’s season was offered the role of the next Bachelorette—only to have it revoked once fans freaked out about the decision and producers deemed another woman’s story more compelling for the Bachelorette. As if it’s not enough to be turned down by the guy you love, this poor girl had (seemingly) all of America turn on her, too. And I was totally a part of that.
The whole situation reminds me of something my friend Hilary, a successful business coach and stylist, posted about the show a few weeks back:
"Tonight's the first time I've ever watched the Bachelor reunion show with such empathy for women, all women. In this microcosm of 28 women there are so many who misunderstood one another because they're an introvert not an extrovert, have a different sense of humor.
They all have stories of why they're right, until someone apologizes and they concede maybe it wasn't so outrageous after all… I felt I understood every 'villain' for how she acted out of her defensiveness and imperfection.
So many of the women describe how they feel hard to love. These beautiful, successful, vibrant women who had the courage (or yes, insanity) to take this leap.
Entrepreneurship isn't ideal for every personality. Nor is going on a reality show. Maybe motherhood or city life doesn't light you up the way someone else does.
As strong as we are, we're also tender. I've become and am becoming far better at celebrating who I am. And hope I'm growing better at giving others permission to be who they are.
Be you. It's the only choice that will make you both successful, and happy."
Preach, girlfriend.
How different would life look if we had a little more empathy and a little less judgment? I shudder to think how I would be portrayed on a reality show. I’m sure I would make mistakes. Life works in the same way.
In his book Searching For God Knows What, Donald Miller recounts an incident from middle school when the popular girl was dared to give a geeky boy a kiss on the cheek. Well she goes for it—and “shrivels in disgust” when it’s done. Miller writes,
“Though it was only a dare and could not be confused with a sincere act of affection, she had broken the invisible social barrier. That evening I wondered if the kiss would make an impact on social partitions. A valuable person had crossed the line to kiss a person of no value.
Maybe they would realize we are all just humans, I thought.
Maybe they would realize the feelings of the hierarchy were not true, that we were somehow equal, a computer nerd and a football player, the same.”
We are all just humans.
I don't know Ben's or Lauren’s stories, I don’t know the stories of the other contestants on the show, and I don’t know the stories of the people I encounter on the streets of New York City every day. They don’t know my story either. How would my storyline be masterfully edited by producers if I went on a reality television show? Lord knows I have made plenty of mistakes and will continue to make them for the rest of my life.
But that's where grace comes in. Oh, how we need it. My heart is so quick to rely on a first impression, my own perception. I make snap judgments every single day—about the homeless man on the subway, about the woman who bumps into me on the street, about the candidates in the presidential race, about the young and attractive Christian couple on America’s favorite dating show. Thank God I’m given grace in this. We all are given His grace, free of charge. What a gift.
I pray that when the world hears about Christianity, they don’t think of being judged or ranked. I pray that we would cherish the uniqueness of each other’s stories and experiences. In the words of Miller, “Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
In the end, our hearts are not our own; they belong to God. He is the only one who gets to judge, and that’s a very good thing. I pray that whether we’re reading an entertainment magazine or we’re interacting with the homeless in our neighborhood, we extend a little more kindness and grace to one another. I know it will go a long way.
On Microwaves, Boardwalks, and the Best Kind of Subway Rides
I hopped on the train last Thursday, feeling excited and ready to take my slightly longer commute because it practically guaranteed me a seat and time to read before work. (All this excitement at 8 a.m. coming from the girl who has only drank a half a cup of coffee in the last two weeks. #whoami)
And grab a seat I did, right as another young woman sat down next to me. I pulled out my iPad Mini and selected the She Reads Truth app—she pulled out her Bible. Naturally, I was drawn to her. Not many people will pull out their physical Bible while riding a crowded subway in New York City. I can’t say I’ve ever done it before. This woman’s faith and heart for the Lord were immediately evident.
So I smiled and showed her that I, too, was reading the Bible. Her face lit up. She told me she was reading Philippians.
“I’m trying to make changes in my life right now, and I have some anxiety about that. Philippians is a great comfort.”
She’s right about that. I told her this year marks the first time I’m reading Scripture every day and going through a Bible in a year plan. That it’s made a difference in my daily life and brought me a greater sense of joy. I told her that I, too, feel moments of anxiety. I tried to be an encouragement to her and let her know I could totally relate but that God gives us a deeper sense of peace than anything else can. We exchanged names and numbers, and we’re now Facebook friends.
I went on with the rest of my day, not fully recognizing what a gift my commute was. The fact that we sat next to each other was no coincidence. That night, it hit me how much she had encouraged me—how much I needed to hear those words in Philippians.
“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God,which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
I had been feeling anxious that very day about my upcoming weekend trip. I was going to visit a new city with new people, and I had no idea what to expect for the days ahead. It all felt very unknown. My anxiety stemmed from waiting for the weekend to start, waiting for what was to come, and waiting for how I’d feel upon returning to the Big Apple.
I hate to wait.
So much worry and anxiety comes from waiting, from our impatience.
I came back to New York City on a total high from the weekend but also feeling weird about being here. It’s a busy and demanding place. Patience is not part of the New Yorker’s vocabulary. (To be fair, I don’t think it’s a part of many Americans’ vocabularies.) People push past me as I walk through the city streets. The contrast between my weekend and my Monday morning commute is a stark one. Everyone, myself included, has somewhere to be. We need to get there as quickly as possible.
What in the world are we rushing toward? Why do we hate to wait so darn much?
Even while I write this, I am overwhelmed with my schedule for the month to come. I’ll feel great once May 1 hits, but until then I am waiting. Waiting for a new apartment, waiting for how that will change my community, waiting to work on and complete some upcoming projects, waiting for more weekends of travel and spending time with friends and family.
There has to be a way to find peace within the waiting room. I don’t want to look ahead and expect May 1 to be the day when all my waiting and my anxiety will disappear. That’s not how life works, which is actually a very good thing.
Here’s the deal: We are all always waiting for something, whether it’s for a job or an apartment, for marriage or a baby. We will wait throughout our lives, ultimately waiting for the return of the kingdom or life beyond this one. Most of our life is waiting. Last year, I wrote about waiting—how waiting is an act of utmost faith. Waiting means choosing to say every single day, Jesus is better.
Our God is not a microwave God.
No, sir. Our God is a Crock-Pot kind of guy. His end result tastes and smells so much more delicious than anything we could quickly nuke in the microwave. Think about it. Wouldn’t you so much rather have the mouthwatering chili that’s been stewing in the slow cooker all day over the two-minute chili a la essence of tin can that came out of the microwave? I know I would.
The sermon I heard on Sunday was all about this Crock-Pot God. He is good and faithful. He fulfills His promises to us. But He works slowly—often much more slowly than we would like. Look at Abraham and Sarah. They wanted a child but remained childless through their old age. Yet God came through, and at the ripe old ages of 100 and 90 years old, Abraham and Sarah had a son. Seriously. They waited for a ridiculously long time, and they saw that they could not do anything without the Lord.
They’re the true definition of couple goals, am I right?
I’m back in NYC, still reflecting on that sermon and still reflecting on the woman I met on the subway. God 100 percent placed her in my life last Thursday. He used her to deliver His message and remind me that He is never far away. He was with me all weekend long, guiding me, protecting me, and allowing me to have fun. And then this week, as the anxiety hit hard, He reminded me the value of patience. His peace transcends all my little worries. I get to pray to Him, and He hears it. My subway buddy is evidence of that.
She kicked off a weekend full of rest and restoration. As I look back on the photos today, in the midst of anxiety, I had to pause on the one above. The boardwalk feels a little like my life right now. I don’t want to wait to find out what’s at the end of the boardwalk. I’m walking along, waiting for what’s next, and I really don’t know what’s to come. I want to just get there and be done with it. In life, we don’t know where our journeys will take us. But if we keep our eyes fixed on the path set before us, on the clouds above—on heaven—we’re sure to land in a spot that’s more beautiful and more satisfying than anything we could have ever hoped for. And that makes it all worth it.
Stephanie's Story: A Fresh Start
I met Stephanie back when we were college interns living and working in New York City. We were neighbors that summer, living out our dreams in the city. We never once talked about God or faith—to be honest, neither were even on my radar at the time. Fast forward to 2016, when Steph and I re-connected over social media. Let me tell you: This girl's heart is so on fire for the Lord, and I'm floored by His beautiful faithfulness in her redemption story. Thank you for sharing, Stephanie! — M
photo c/o Amanda Watson Photography
Last year was a hard year. In all honesty, it was downright awful. Imagine getting hit in the stomach with one painful blow. You try to gain composure and find your footing, but every time you attempt to stand, you are hit with another blow. Once to the head. Then to the knees. Let’s not forget your rib cage, your upper torso and again to the stomach just for posterity.
This is a lot of what 2015 felt. Life had dealt what seemed like an unfair hand. A sick mother. A depressed father. A foreclosed home. Broken finances. A shattered family. A failed best friendship. A broken heart. A dead-end job and an endless pursuit for the next step. A bad relationship. A weary and broken down me.
I couldn’t stand, and every time I found some strength to try again, to get back up, I would be knocked down. I would love to tell you how through it all, I remained faithful to God and I held firm to my faith, but I didn’t. I grew weary and with each trial, I found my faith waning like a candle in the night. I felt my heart harden and slowly began to turn away from God.
My first love. My God. My Father. My friend. My everything love.
The One who I had grown so close to and who had brought me through the high tides and crashing waves of seasons past—I couldn’t find Him.
What’s a girl do when life happens and it leaves her broken?
Where does a brokenhearted girl go when she forgets who she is and when she turns away from the only love that truly satisfies?
She runs to lesser gods, of the human kind.
When I’m hurting, somehow I always find myself running to the arms of a man. It makes sense, right? As women, our strongest and most dominant desire is to be wanted, to be pursued, to be loved. When I am hurting, that desire becomes tainted, liked everything else in my life. Last year found me in this broken place a lot. Waking up in the arms of some guy, in an effort to assuage a bleeding heart. Locked hands with a guy, all in the hopes of avoiding the pain locked in my soul.
“He is on the cliff. He is in the lead up to the jump. He’s IN the jump, and He is AT the landing point.”
2015 saw a lot of me being reckless with my body and my heart. Even though I knew it was wrong, I didn’t care. I was so broken down by life, I stopped caring about taking care of myself. I stopped pursuing God because I deemed myself unworthy of His love. Life had robbed me of so much, and then, I had gone off and done these terrible things. I was dirty in my eyes, forgotten.
But God...
There’s always a “but God” moment because He’s just so good like that. He, in His ever so patient and gentlemanly-like manner, kept knocking at my heart. He never stopped pursuing me. And you know what He told me first? Not, “Stephanie, I need you to repent for this and that thing you’ve done.” Or “Stephanie, I need you to go fast and get yourself right.”
You know what He whispered to my heart to get my attention? (This is the part where I get a little teary.)
He told me, “It’s okay to not be okay.”
What? God did just really just say that? Is that really You? Is it okay that I am hurting and that I am tired? Is it okay to feel this way?
And He gently and so patiently repeats (which He has to do a lot for me): “It’s okay.”
There I sat in my bed, weeping, grieving, sobbing, crying out to God. It was the most beautiful, ugly cry I have ever experienced.
Because God knows me.
God knew that life was going to happen to me in 2015. He knew the tests and trials headed my way. He also knew the decisions and paths I would choose to go down in response to my brokenness. He knew all along, and I am certain that He was with me down every wrong path I chose. He knew I would run from Him and He knew I would run out of places to run. He knew I would need to just cry at His feet.
2016 brought me to a new city, new state, and a new season of my life. My journey brought me to the beautiful state of California. To be honest, I am still healing from a lot of the hurts I experienced from last year. And you know what, that’s okay. I cannot count the number of obstacles I faced in getting here and the number of challenges I’ve encountered since being here. But you know what? I am still confident in the One who called me here, and I firmly believe that wherever God calls you in this life, He will be there.
So yes, it has been hard. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t. But I am confident in the one who called me into this vulnerable season of newness and of letting go of seasons past. Last year was one of the hardest years I have ever seen. Here I am in a new season, learning to let go and lay down my burdens to God once again. I will sit here, here where God has called me, and let the tears fall. I will unravel and rest in His presence. I will sit at His feet and let Him replace my mourning for joy. I will let him make me new. I will come undone, unwind and allow Him to fill me up, right here, here where He has called me to be. I will let go of what was and allow Him to heal me, right here.
“He will bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes.”
I am the prodigal son. I am the one sheep out of the 100 who gets lost. And you are, too. In both of those stories, we cannot forget the most important part, not the one who was lost but the loving embrace of the Father/Shepherd when the one lost returns home.
I want anyone reading this to know, you don’t have to be perfect to come to God. God is not about performance. His love is merciful. So even if you feel dirty, and like you are covered with the shame of this life, God calls you whole, pure, loved, cherished, wanted. When all we see is a mud-stained wedding dress, God sees you draped in a gown as white as snow. There is hope for you yet and still, my friend. Your story will be redeemed.
Overwhelmed by Love
Twenty-six. I am 26 years old. I can’t quite believe it. That number feels, well, old. It feels like an age I used to gawk at as a kid—an age that I assumed meant marriage, children, and a house of one's own. I saw 26 as one step closer to 30, the time when you’re expected to really grow up and get your ish together. It didn’t sound fun at all but scary. Now that I'm 26, I don’t actually have any of those things, and yet my heart is overflowing with joy.
Six months ago, I was worried about this looming birthday. I talked about it like it was NBD, but in reality I was freaking out. I kept asking people about how old they were when they got married, how old they were when they started their own company, how old they were when they could afford a one-bedroom apartment. I fixated on the number and what it meant—and today I can tell you, it doesn’t mean anything.
I am more joyful today than I thought would be possible. My heart is full. I believe my twenty-sixth year will be the best one yet. Of course, there will be ups and downs like every other year. That’s to be expected. But I think this year I will grow up more and grow into the woman I was made to be. It won’t be a great year because I’ve knocked off items on my bucket list, or because I’ve reached some lofty life goals.
It will be because God is always faithful.
As I turned 26, I felt celebrated, cared for, and loved well by my family and friends. I’ve been given an incredible community, both here in New York City and throughout the country. These people surrounded me with encouragement and kindness. They’ve shown up and showed me what love really looks like. They’ve reminded me I am far from alone.
There have definitely been times in my life when I’ve felt alone. I felt like abandoned, an outcast—and in a way, I felt almost unworthy of love. Years ago, I went through a very difficult seasons where my closest friendships deteriorated, and the isolation I was left with was unsettling. I believed the lie that there was something wrong with me. I was a wreck.
Stepping out of that season took courage, strength, and the kind of power that can only come from God. He’s the one who brought me through. Moving forward, I started to love myself and love the woman God intended for me to be. I started to meet people who lifted me up and who wanted to know me. Those moments of feeling alone enable me to see just how much of a gift my family and friendships are now. The joy I feel in this moment wouldn't be as sweet had I not experienced the bitter taste of loneliness first.
Today at 26, I feel known. I’ve written before about this desire I have to make my name known. I want to be well-regarded, accomplished, successful. I want people to hear my name and go, “Wow, she is awesome. I want to be like her.” I will admit it: I want that fame.
Except I wasn’t created to make myself famous, but humble and meek. Jesus Christ humbled himself and gave up His life to save ours. Thus, God “gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
I was made to talk up His name, not my own. But you know what else?
My name is already known. I am known.
In my previous post, I forgot about mentioning the reality that God knows my name. In fact, my name is graven on His hands; my name is written on His heart. No situation or circumstance can ever change that. This is the greatest friendship could ask for. He knows exactly who and what I need and when I need it. Most of all, I need Him.
“Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
How marvelous and awe-inspiring are those words in Luke? I get goosebumps whenever I read the passage. The God who created the stars, the earth, and the entire universe, is the same God who created me and who knows my name. And He’s the one who’s provided beautiful earthly relationships around me to show me more of Him. I tend to rely on my accomplishments or my social life to feel like I am known. I think as though I need to justify my existence. I need to do something in order to be seen and paid attention to. I act like the number of likes I get on Instagram is what makes me known and worthy. It’s not.
Ultimately, I am known because of God. Because of God. This birthday has been a tangible reminder of that. The people who are currently in my life are not there by coincidence. His goodness and care for me are continually overflowing, even when I don’t recognize it. I need Him. The more I press into Him, the more He reveals Himself. This week, He has been especially evident in the many friends and family who celebrated my special day with me. I am truly overwhelmed by such grace and love.
So to all of you who sent me the many thoughtful cards and texts and phone calls. To you who danced the night away with me. To you who painted your nails with me and sat on the floor eating sushi with me. To you who took me out for wine. To you who gave me nail polish, cupcakes, coffee, and my new favorite t-shirt. To you who sent me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers. To you who baked me a cake and lit a candle and sang me happy birthday. To all of you who I love: Thank you. Thank you for celebrating my life in such unique and wonderful ways. Thank you for being an important part of my story, and above all, thank you for reminding me that God is so very good.