Occasionally I don't believe in God. But sometimes I do.

I miss Rachel Held Evans.

Her voice on twitter echoed through out social media.

She always knew exactly what to say.

She had a power in her that people listened to.

She had a stamina with the internet trolls that rivaled that of an olympic marathon runner.

She had a peace in her words that made us all believe that God really loves us.

I only hope I can carry an ounce of the faith that she held up for those of us that had a hard time believing.

Most days I don't believe in God.

Most days it feels like he abandoned us to fix earth ourselves.

Most days it feels like we will never get better.

Most days I question why I go to church.

Most days I question why trying to love people well is even a necessity.

The Christian Church keeps telling me that I need to calm down, the church keeps telling me I need to find peace.

I can't.

I can't be at peace when people are dying and no one is doing anything about it.

I can't calm down when minorities are being told Jesus only loves part of them, because a book that was written hundreds of years ago is worshiped as the final word of God.

I am angry.

We sing this song that reverberates through my body, over and over and over again.

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without boarders, Let me walk upon the water where ever you may call me."

But we remain tied to the dock of our lives or we aren't even in the boat at all.

We sit on shore.

We deny ourselves the freedom The Spirit brings.

We believe in safety.

We believe in financial stability.

We believe in existing only in circles where The Spirit looks, smells, feels and tastes like us.

NONE of these beliefs are who Jesus was or why Jesus existed in the first place.

My rebellion has ruined a lot of relationships, it has caused family members to mute me and unfriend me.

My rebellion has left me sobbing in my bed at night because The God of the Universe that separated light from darkness and then put it all back together again in all it's goodness, is so often used as a reason to only see the darkness in people.

We claim all lives matter but when it comes down to it and we have to love someone who is different than us, we choose what we believe to be true every time over their sacred existence.

I don't have any answers. I don't have any defense.

I don't have any theological thesis on why I believe God loves us.

Which I think is why I have spent so much time reading and studying theologies and researching seminaries, I want to have validity.

But like I said, I don't have any answers.

But I do have Heart Break and fear and pain and being abandoned.

And in my heart break, I have been met with love.

In my desertion, I have been met with oil on my head.

In my pain, I have been met with healing.

I have studied and researched and poured over texts and prayed that God would make me perfect.

I hear The Spirit in me every day.

I drowned her out.

I am tired of denying her the space that she was created to take up.

I am thirty years old.

My life has felt like it is being lived by someone else.

Not by me.

I feel like I am fighting who I am constantly.

Always being told that "you just need to do xyz..."

As if any of us have any sort of real answer.

We can make claims that the bible is our real answer, but the bible has been the "real answer" to oppress millions of people.

This is not who God is.

I firmly believe that God is an all or nothing kind of deity.

God encompasses all.

She encompasses me.

Ya'll....

I am so so so unbelievably Queer.

God encompasses that too.

My body feels hot thinking about posting this for real.

I fear so much push back and so many questions.

I fear rejection.

I fear my family hating me.

I fear my family being awkward.

I fear past church friends who I love dearly, just casting off.

I fear current church friends trying to "love" me well.

But what I fear even more than that is dishonoring the Creator by not living out my life in it's fullness.

Dishonoring my self.

Tonight, I sat and listened to Tasha Cobbs as she sang "You know my name."

I was reminded that through my doubt, through my feelings of emptiness and abandonment....

The Spirit of the Living God, knows my name.

I want you to all know my "name" too.

I am tired of living out my queerness in secret.

While I am sure many of you are not even remotely shocked, having it written down feels like mercy and the idea of someone reading the words already brings so much freedom.

Quarantine really does something to you I think. haha

Between all the attempts to drowned out the thoughts your brain is thinking and the noise in your head that makes you ignore the Holy Spirit, you learn who you want to be.

I still don't have a total answer for any of it.

I don't have a bible verse to defend myself.

I don't have a motivational speech to get you all to emotionally be on my team.

But....

I do know that I want to have the right words like Rachel.

I want to have resilience against trolls and people who diminish other people's identities.

I want to be at peace in war.

I want to say "Jesus loves you" and believe it for myself.

I want people to know I will remind them that they are holy, and without fault.

I want to believe--no. I want to know, that I am holy and with out fault.

If you can't see where the full goodness of God is in this world, I will help point her out for you.

If you don't understand any of this blog, know that I don't really either. But I do know in my breath and in my Spirit, that you and I, we are wholly, complete, loved and holy people, created by a God that makes absolutely zero sense.

But you can see her in every person. Some times, it just feels really small and the light is really dim.

Please, love all of a person. Even the parts you don't understand.

Hold them in your hands and say, I don't understand you, but I want to.

That's literally all anyone needs to hear ever.

Occasionally an Actor.

Today I had an acting professor stop me in the hall to gush about how much they loved Godspell. I've never had a class with her, but she and I have similar spirits, so we have a fun and special connection that can not be explained with words, you'd have to see us together.

She and I have not had a ton of time to get to know each other except in passing, twenty minutes here and twenty minutes there, but our conversations are always deep, meaningful and full of laughter.

I've told her a lot about who I am, people I am crushing on, worries about school, my dreams of going to seminary, my dreams of loving people in tangible ways, caring for people and helping others learn to love themselves. It's safe to say she knows the depths of my heart in many ways.

Today, she told me something about herself.

She told me that she grew up catholic and now considers herself to be a "spiritual heathen" to which I replied, "Aren't we all."

She gave the cast of Godspell such high praises as she was so proud of everyone in the show in every way.

She told me that she had always listened to the parables we had told in Godspell many times growing up in a catholic church and school, but the night she came to watch us was the first time she HEARD those parables.

I started to tear up.

I have never in my life, considered myself an actor or a singer, it's just something I do for fun.

But in that moment, I knew I could call myself an actor.

I am so proud of the work we did in Godspell.

I have been in many shows, and I have walked away from all of them with a learning experience.

A new tool in my tool belt if you will.

A new opportunity.

I've always walked away from shows proud of myself, and even when I don't, I intentionally find things that I can be proud about, even if they are small.

I walk away from every show and I am grateful for the opportunity, always sad it is over, always thankful that I can sleep a little extra, and already making a list in my head of things I can do better next time.

There is always something to learn.

But Godspell was different, YES, there are about a dozen things I can list that I could do better if we got the chance to do it again, but I am extra proud of this show.

I showed up and showed out.

For the first time, I was there.

I was IN the show.

I was connected to the other actors, I was grounded in my spirit, and I was reaching out to the audience.

I was honest.

But as my professors eye's welled up telling me that she HEARD the parables we were telling and singing and dancing about....

I just felt it....

I told her I've never been able to call myself an actor before, but this time I could.

She got even tearier....

"You found your voice, Kayla."

I am tearing up as I write this.

This week has been so horrible.

The stench of uncertainty and doom was so ripe this week.

Thoughts of not being on this planet kept crossing my mind.

My thoughts racing every night I went to sleep and every morning I woke up.

Every failure listing themselves in my minds eye, and my heart scrambling with solutions and quick fixes.

I fear lack of legitimacy in this life

I fear not being important, just as we all do I suppose.

But I believe such crazy things, and see and experience God in a such a seemingly rebellious spirit....

I feel like such an outcast.

I feel like I say words, and people stare.

I feel like I exist and people stare.

I feel like I make a decision and people stare.

I feel like people want me to be subdued.

I feel like people want to be quiet.

I feel like people want me to stop bring up injustices.

I feel like people want me to be nice to them when they are homophobic or racist.

I feel like people want me to be less honest.

I feel like people don't care if I am in a room or not.

I feel like people want me to be less exhausting.

I feel like everyone knows how to fix my life except me.

I feel like people doubt every part of who I am, because I am such a loose canon.

I feel like people see me as a stray puppy, I'm cute, but what if I infect them with some insane bug like loving other people.

I feel like everything I do is never good enough.

I feel like I've been wanting to go to seminary for the wrong reasons.

I feel like I want to go to seminary because that will suddenly make me legitimate.

I am seeking closeness to God therefore, I must have some weight to my opinion and theology.

Seeking God is how you get close to him, how you learn about him and how your opinion becomes weighted in the Christian community. 

You know the commandment "Thou shalt not take the Lords name in vain."

That's not about saying "Oh my God." in disbelief or shock.

That commandment is about proclaiming to be a follower or God and then doing the opposite.

Like hoarding money.

Like ignoring the homeless.

Like being racist and not acknowledging your white privilege.

Like being homophobic and claiming you are not homophobic you just believe that God calls it a sin so you don't condone "homosexuals."

We as Christians speak so much opinion and repeat so much of what a pastor said without ever seeking a professional opinion.

We quote the Bible, but have ZERO context for how or why it was written, you know who might? A biblical scholar.

We explain creationism as if that is THE scientifically proven way the earth was created, but we have ACTUAL scientific proof that evolution was to blame for our existence, and we REFUSE to acknowledge that our God is big enough to have used Evolution for creation, and there is NO WAY IN HEK that the person who wrote Genesis would lie to us! You know who might know how the earth was created? A scientist. And if the thought of science proving our existence makes us huffy, how small is our God?

We SCREAM Merry Christmas in people's faces and get pissed at Red Coffee cups, because HOW DARE WE IGNORE CHRISTS BIRTH. Ya'll Christ wasn't even born on Christmas. You know who might know several theories about when he was born? A Historian. 

We speak prophetic word. But we don't ACT in prophetic word.

We speak with the tongues of men and angels but have not love.

We're just making noise.

I'm tired of making noise.

I want to speak.

I found my voice.

My prayer voice wasn't lost.

It was stifled.

It was stifled by expectations.

Expectations I allowed to be put on myself by the fear of others thinking I was illegitimate.

I'm so sad.

I am so heart broken.

The world feels like a blizzard and I am walking into the wind, it's against me as I push and stumble slowly through the mounds of snow.

And I allowed myself to believe that it was my fault.

That I was the problem.

How could I love someone who had an abortion?!

How could I love and honor someone who is trans?!

How could I cheer and vote for a flaming liberal socialist?!

How could I believe that Black Lives Matter?!

That question is wrong.

The real question is How can we NOT?!

The hard part isn't loving others.

The hard part is loving ourselves.

It's easy to love others.

It's our own pride and piety that causes us to decide that because we disagree with someone means we still "love them as a person" we just don't agree with their "choices." And that's just simply not what hate is, right?!

It's the same pride and piety that gets us all flustered when someone leaves a mess for us to clean up.

We don't question why they left the mess, just that they left it, and now we are so wildly inconvenienced that we have to clean it up.

We don't have to clean up the mess ya'll!

We can leave it alone and it doesn't change one tiny bit of anything! Literally nothing. Especially if it's not hurting anyone.

If it's hurting someone, we can clean it up and everything will be fine. The world won't explode. The world won't die. We won't die.

If they don't say thank you, we still won't die.

If they don't care, we're still not going to die.

If we clean it up, people aren't going to start assuming that you made the mess in the first place and even if they do, why do you want people who make assumptions around anyways?!

But if we do clean it up....

We did show someone love and care and affection and peace and goodness we showed them that they are not a burden to this world.

This is my voice.

This is my song.

Praising a God that loves and honors his children no matter what mess they've made, choosing to not be inconvenienced by it, and continuing to show himself through the people he created.

I know this feels all over the place but I promise you I have a point.

A lot of my friends have made me feel as if I don't love God enough, or that I am not Christian enough, or my favorite, I live in sin.

Growing up with that mentality really makes your heart strive for wholeness.

When you are constantly taught you are broken and missing something, you never feel whole.

But I've been whole, this whole time.

God does not create incomplete humans.

He created us wholly and without fault.

What if we set down our definitions of sin and we just helped each other clean up each others left over messes?

Because it means we condone their mess?

Because it means we might get something on us and that our clothes will be stained with their sin?

 A Rabi once washed all his friends feet after a long day of walking.

It wasn't his job.

It was a major inconvenience for him because he was about to die at the hands of the very people he was cleaning up after.

Then he fed them. Food! and Drink!

You can continue to live in fear of getting sin on your clothes.

You can continue to live in fear of legitimacy.

You can continue to hold onto trivial "biblical" truths like how creation happened or whether or not it's a sin to be gay.

OR...

You can help people clean up their messes.

You can get your hands dirty.

You can speak prophecy over others.

You can assume good intent, even if you know for a fact they are lying to you. 

You can remind people they are loved regardless of how legitimate you believe them to be.

You can practice speaking truth and goodness into your own life so that you can practice speaking goodness into others.

Ya'll I don't know what I am going to do about seminary, or school, or theatre, or my life, but I do know that I am going to love all the people that the Bible "tells us" are wrong.

I am going to seek God in each person.

I am going to love and care for myself.

I am going to use my voice.

I am going to sing and act.

God hasn't given me a pulpit yet, but he has given me a stage and a song.

You're welcome to join me.

My table is wide.

My table is long.

It has plenty of seats.

And notably endless song.

It is over flowing with food and overflowing with drink.

We will sing at my table and we will tell glorious stories.

Stories and songs that makes us dream, that makes us think.

Stories that make us laugh out our noses and stories that make us sob uncontrollably.

My creator built my table with 2 fishes and 5 loaves but don't worry, there is plenty as this meal unfolds.

We have a space waiting for you, it's right there at the head of the table.

We'll throw you a giant party when you chose to sit down, you'll even get to wear this old silly crown.

Every word you speak will be heard. Every tear you shed will be collected and shared.

The Spirit is calling you, it's time to rest.

No more trying to decide who is deserving or who is actually learning,

We're all messing up.

We just need to clean up this giant seemingly endless mess.





 

Occasionally Queer

I want to start off by disclaiming, I am coming off a very bad audition, and am attempting to write this in hopes of seeing the light in my own struggles. (Which I guess is what this whole blog is for)

You know rising to the occasion. *Insert face palm emoji here*

***

Cut to July 2018, a YouthWorks summer is in full swing, we join Kayla as she proceeds to have melt down as a Site Director, and, very dramatically, tells her close friends, she is taking a break from school cause she "just can't handle it." 

I did a pretty alright job this summer. Ministry happened, no one was terribly hurt, everyone got fed, we had awesome evaluations from participants, and I watched my staff grow it was possibly my favorite things of the summer.

The community of Harrisburg has started to become personal friends. I am so incredibly blessed by the way they love me. They serve every teenager that walks through their grasp week to week, just as much if not more than the other way around.

There is a reason Harrisburg is called Heavensburg.

As the summer started, there were a lot of things I felt really comfortable in. You know it being my 4th year with the organization, I might know a thing or two.

But there were a lot of things I was really insecure about.

Good Lord. Finances. It's relatively easy, when details, are your forte, but when you are a big picture person, those tasks feel meaningless and pointless.

But you have to have money in order to make a YouthWorks summer happen AND you have to be a good steward of those things, to have intentional ministry happen.

My poor boss Katie, is a goddess among mere mortals. She was so patient with me.

Ya'll it's not like I had to do an insane amount of math I just had to report the receipts, but you'd think the way I treated it I had to translate the entire works of William Shakespeare to German!

I guess what I am trying to tell you is, just another occasion in which I chose not to rise to.

It's not like I did poorly.

There were things I did this summer that I did really well.

I thought out side the box, handled conflict really well, I cast vision really well, and ya'll, I man the Kitchen like a boss. 

I'm not saying I did not do well this summer, but what I am saying is that with every bar that is set, I reach up to grab it but actively choose to not grab it.

I am not entirely certain, why this is.

But I think this summer I came to an interesting conclusion.

With out going too much into detail, and making this blog even longer than it is going to be, a lot of stuff has happened in my life, and I have decided that I don't want to let people get too close.

I actively choose to be looked over so that I can make the excuse that I'm being under estimated, so that I do not have to rise to the occasion.

If someone can't get close to me then they can't point out all the ways I am tender and not normal, and weird, and do things strange, and how gross and smelly I am.

If I'm fat, no one will want to pursue me sexually, or intimately, or hurt me.

Then I can do nothing, I don't have to grow,I don't have to confront the parts of me I am ashamed off.

The weird thing about this fear, is all the things I want to hide manifest in me anyways despite me attempting to hide them.

Everyone has a front, but my front is a life style.

If I am honest about who I am, then no one confronts me.

If I am open about my struggles then people think I am working on them, and they don't need to point them out.

It's a 3 ring circus.

I look confidant, and am vulnerable so you don't see the absolute mess I am, or at least you excuse my mess.

You're never really sure which circle to pay attention too.

I have you all fooled.

EL OH EL. Trust me. I know that is a false statement.

I asked myself this summer what my life would look like, if I committed to myself.

If I committed to the places God has called me too.

I am almost 30.

I'm a bit of a late bloomer.

I had a lot of my childhood taken from me, (see? full of excuses!) I had to be an adult really fast.

But it wasn't like a real adult.

I was a makeshift adult.

So, how do I figure out how to be a real adult?

Better Question!

what it look like if I was patiently confident in the person I already am?

I don't know what that would look like, I often am scared of what that Kayla would look like.

***

Flash forward to the present, Kayla has decided to commit to school again, and is kicking ass and taking names(kind of) at moving forward with life. 

Coming home was hard, and fast, suddenly the very direct habit of communication cannot be used on your best friends and class mates. (opps! Sorry sweet friends. Love you!)

I did something to my back that I still have yet to understand except that it's just in a constant state of spasm.

It seems to be loosening up the more I have to walk with public transportation.

But it's really slowed me down.

Jumping back into Starbucks has been easy but also, mission work is SO much more exciting than making coffee and smiling every time someone tells you how to do your job.

But I think my biggest fear of my return is school.

I jumped back in with a lot of gusto!

Which I surprised my self by.

I made a two year plan, signed up for the hard classes.

Decided that I either had to commit to school or quit.

I don't think I could live with myself if I quit.

So here I am. Not quitting.

As much as I want to.

People like to tell me that I need to find the joy in growing and doing the hard things.

But there isn't a lot of joy in growing, except the moment you are on the other side of that growth and you can look back at it and feel accomplished.

I don't want to live my life with out joy.

I don't want to go my whole life not being confident in my life.

Have ya'll watched the show Queer Eye?

If not you absolutely NEED to.

Such a BRILLIANT way of tangibly entering into someones life and helping them take control of it again. (but the depths of that show need to be reserved for an entire other blog.)

Basically 5 very fabulous gay men each a professional and expert in different fields take a person who maybe isn't as confident in themselves or who have isolated themselves or maybe spent too much time taking care of others and they help provide them with the basic tools and necessities to live their lives well.

So one, is a nutritionist and a chef, another is an interior designer, a life coach, a fashion stylist, and a hair and skin care specialist.

They each take time to care for the person and teach them a tangible way to care for themselves, without judging or completely changing their previous life style.  It's a beautiful example of "meeting someone where they are at.

While I was bingeing season 2, I kept thinking to myself, I wish I would be nominated for that show.

That would be so crazy! Then I wouldn't have to take responsibility for myself! Someone else could do it for me!

But the more I thought about it the more I realized I just needed to Queer Eye myself.

So. I wrote down all their names and gave myself goals under each of the Fab 5's names.

Karamo(My insides)
--Learn how to handle my anxiety, with grace and tenderness.
--Learn what it looks like to be confidant.

Tan(My Outsides)
--What does it look like for me to work out? realistically. Gently.
--What clothing makes me feel confidant and comfortable and like I am myself?

Bobby(My living space.)
--What does it look like to take ownership of my space? I. E. Cleaning
--How can I decorate my space to make it feel like it is restful and peaceful?

Antoni(My nutrition)
--How can eating be an act of care for myself?

Johnny(Self Nurturing)
--What does it look like to take ownership of my appearance?
--How can I take care of myself hair and skin and not feel like it's a burden or I'm doing it the wrong way?

I put my goals in the form of a question because, these goals are going to change, and questions are open ended, because I honestly don't know what some of these look like yet.

All I do know, is I am really tired of feeling unstable. I am very tired of feel like I don't know what is happening inside of me or around me.

These feelings lead to me attempting to have a false sense of control, and a chaotic mind set.

I want to travel, and perform, and learn, and love.

I can't do those things well when I don't know who I am or don't feel like my basic needs are met.

Yesterday I had my second therapy session since I have been back, and I had this moment of break through.

I don't want to do hard things any more. I have had so many hard things in my life.

But the reality is I will have to do hard things forever. Leaving this world will be hard.

So I don't want to waste any more time not being confidant in who I am, making excuses for not doing hard things. giving up too quickly.

I don't have to have joy. I just have to do it. Hard things don't have to make my confidence dissolve, for good, and I can be kind to my self and care for my self. and I can soft show dance, and sing, and act, and learn/play ukulele as Mrs. Tottendale in The Drowsy Chaperone!

I want to be the person God has created me to be.

I want to be alive.

I want to be kind to myself and allow myself to grow.

I want to gloriously rise to the occasion and do unglamorous basic things that care for myself.

Mostly, I just want to be haunting you all at my funeral and hear you say things like "She lived her life fully" or "She knew what it meant to love"

Anything extra is a just a bonus.

I'm going to start being honest about my life.

My life is a mess. You all know, but I want to start letting people into it and not being embarrassed. 

Like, I hate people seeing my messy room, So I'm going to throw it up on the Instagram.

I'm going to answer all my Queer Eye questions, and I'm going to do homework and read, and be in a show, and I'm going to warm up well, and sing and dance well, and I'm going to do it with a lot of love and a lot of mistakes.

And God is going to show back up. Again. Like They Promise They always will.

Please be patient with me. I'm going to be messing up a lot and you all are going to see it.

Thanks for reading.

Thanks for caring about me.

Occasionally YouthWorks.

One of the things that makes YouthWorks crazy for the staff, is the situations you get put in. 

I wish I could be more detailed than that, but it's hard to put your finger on it. 

I mean have you ever delegated an entire meal to 10 middle schoolers, so they can make 30 pounds of taco meat for 80 people?

Have you ever been sleeping on your air mattress and someone comes up to you and says "Kayla, all 16 of the toilets aren't working?

Have you ever been concerned for the safety of 70 youth traveling in giant passenger vans in downtown New Orleans? 

I could name so many other moments when you just can't help but go "WHAT IS MY LIFE?!" but I would have to explain the situation to explain the situation I am talking about. You catchin what I'm sayin?

Youthworks puts you in this place, where you have to say "It's God or me." 

I choose me almost 80% of the time. 

It pushes you out of your comfort zone. 

It forces you to see all our insecurities and lays them out on the table for everyone to see. 

I am really lucky I have such honest people in my life because I realized something today, in the middle of filling out paper work in the late hours....

I am holding on to so much of my past still, because my broken past allows me to stay safe. 

It explains or excuses why I am not good at things. 

It protects me from having to do the hard things I don't want. 

It allows me to stay comfortable and "safe" because I can say "oh, I have ptsd from *insert trauma from my past here* there for I don't have to be as honest, and people who try to hurt me won't be able to. 

I am holding on to my self. 

Instead of letting go showing up and listening to the spirit, trusting that "he who has created a good work in me will finish out to completion.", 

I try to control things that don't matter. I find no joy in the small things, and I build up barriers. 

I shoot my self in the foot. I find every way I know how to not do the hard things, to not give God control. 

Man, I have blamed him for so much of my past. 

So much of who I am is blamed on what I can't control. 

Instead of just taking responsibility for the things I can control and moving Onward. 

I don't know why God has me back in Harrisburg or back with Youthworks, but I know he is not finished. 

It's my teams first week in programming, and a bunch of things have happened that are out of our control, and I keep needing to thank God for those things, because these things make me a better leader, a better human, and creates in me a more flexible and honest faith in who God is. 

But, I keep getting worked up and tired. 

I want to be the person that see's joy in all the little moments, that celebrates the little things, that see's joy and light in the darkest and deepest of caverns. 

We exist to point others at Jesus and tell them that is where our hope comes from. 

We can't point very well when our hands are too busy worried about something else. 

Jesus break me down. 

Remind me what it means to breathe in deep your rest. 

Show me how to love like you. 

Show me how to love myself like you love me. 

Show me how to love my team mates and the participants well. 

Let me be a good example of what it looks like to live like I am loved. 

Occasionally I hate The Church

I was told tonight by a relatively new friend, that I have the gift of tears.

If Christ's Church is a body, I am the eyes that see and cry.

"Most of the time that's all people need is just to be seen and know someone hurts for you."

Well World.

I cry for you a lot.

I'm crying writing this blog.

In fact I just spent the last 20 minutes on the floor in my bathroom, full blown choking I was crying so hard.

I do this every once in awhile.

Cry so hard I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't move, I can't think, I get a headache, I feel like I am about to die, feel like I will never stop crying.

It's always triggered by pain, by this feeling of not being able to fix this shitty ass world, that shitty ass leaders are ruining and there is NOTHING I CAN DO TO MAKE MY FRIENDS PROBLEMS GO AWAY BECAUSE THE PEOPLE RUNNING THIS GOD FORSAKEN COUNTRY CARE MORE ABOUT HOW MUCH MONEY IS IN THE BANK THAN THE PEOPLE THAT LIVE IN THIS STUPID ASS COUNTRY WE CALL HOME.

But I digress.

I cry.

I cry because my friends are hurting.

I cry because one more Christian sibling has posted on Facebook some ridiculous, graceless metaphorically line drawn in the sands of the freaking perfect beaches of heaven and said

"Look at me! I am how to be a good christian! I am the perfect example of what it means to be a humble, honest, good christian."

I cry because the God, that for some reason or another I can not shake or seem to ignore, is boiled down to a freaking line.

A list of rules and regulations by which he will rule with an iron white skin fist.

I cry, because for the past week I have been to the doctors office 4 times, with zero results, more bills, and more tests that I can't afford to take.

I cry because if the Church knew what was happening in my heart, they wouldn't want me around.

I cry, because my friends have been told that Jesus doesn't love them because of the way they are.

I cry because there are people that don't care.

I cry, because they can't care.

I cry, because we are in the middle of a social revolution, and I know there are people who will refuse to be my friend after this.

I cry because we as a society have internally been socialized to believe that some people are better than others, and some of you reading this will probably disagree with me and do one of two things, either, disagree with me and pretend nothing is wrong, or you will disagree with me and just disappear into the void.

I cry because there is so much stuff to do, and I just don't know if I can do it.

I cry because I actually believe I will never be loved by another human being.

I cry because I have SO MANY friends who actually believe the same thing about themselves.

I cry because I can't fix that part of our brains that tell us that.

I cry because Jesus can but he's not talking to me.

I cry because Jesus has told me he loves me today 3 times, and for the first time in my life, it's not enough that he loves me.

I cry because I feel abandoned, to cry, to scream out to God

“Eloi! Eloi! Lama sabachthani?”

My God My God why have you forsaken me!?

I cry because I am not being crucified on the cross and here I am doubting the presence of The Spirit in me. 

I cry because I want this world to experience what it feels like to live a whole life. 

But I cry because we can't show the world what it looks like to live whole lives because we are too busy policing the lives of people who don't love Jesus. 

I cry because posting this could get me kicked out of Church. 

Not my church, but CHURCH. 

I cry because I have friends who literally believe they will catch fire if they walk into church. BECAUSE CHURCH HAS TOLD THEM THIS TIME AND TIME AGAIN.

I cry, because I wish the biggest story in the media right now wasn't the #metoo movement, and that leaders in THE CHURCH, were not actively rooting against these people. 

I cry, because the biggest show of support towards the #metoo movement was a bunch of celebrities that THE CHURCH actively speaks out against, were wearing white roses!! 

WHERE ARE YOU CHURCH?!?! Where are your white roses?!?

I get it! This post is a massive generalization, but we are one body. We are one people. 

We are our weakest links. 

I cry. A lot. 

But the reality of where I am is that I actually haven't cried in 6 months, because I can't any more. 

Anger is too great a burden too bear and there is so much to be angry for. 

I cry because small acts of big love, seems tireless and unfruitful. 

I cry because I will loose friends over this post, because my anger and dissatisfaction is too much to confront with love and understanding.

So here I am. 

Literally on my knees in my bath room crying, because I've bottled up a lot of anger and hurt the past couple of years. 

On my knees, because my friends are hurting and I can't help them except for the meaningless notion that I am "there for them." 

On my knees begging that Jesus show up. 

Fix this.

So tonight, I use my spiritual gift of tears, to say, I see you world, I have no answers, I don't think there are any answers, except to be with each other, cry, and remind each other to hope, even in darkness. 

“Eloi! Eloi! Lama sabachthani?”

 

Occasionally I am too fat to be sexually assaulted.

I was headed to church tonight, I walk 3 blocks to get to the train station, I ride the train for 25-30 minutes and then I walk about a 0.7 miles to church.

Tonight when I got off the train a man followed me.

I noticed him, told myself the usual "don't make assumptions" pep talk, and continued, as he continued to follow me.

I had walked two blocks when he started "Pssst" ing me.

He tried to get my attention for an entire block this way.

3 blocks.

He started walking faster, getting closer....

"Give him the benefit of the doubt maybe he is not talking to you."

"HEY! HEY!"

I'm almost jogging.

I cut across a parking lot toward the nearest store.

He is all but outright chasing me at this point.

I duck into the Dollar Store where there are a lot of people, I whip around as he enters the door, I tear the sunglasses off my face, square up and plant myself  into the ground as he walks in not 7 feet behind me, he catches my eye, quickly avoids eye contact and ducks into an aisle.

I run out of the store, and all but sprint the last 2 blocks to the church, continuing to watch behind me making sure he's not following.

 I see no sign of him any where.

I finally get to church and all I can think, is "What the hell Kayla!? You have straight punched a guy for grabbing your butt once!!!"

I froze. I felt guilty.

I didn't call the police because I am still unsure if I am crazy or not, or if it's real or if I am exaggerating my circumstances.

A strange man followed me, yelling, for almost 5 blocks, into a store, on foot, 10 feet behind me and I am the one feeling guilty. 

I didn't pull out my pepper spray because I felt bad.

I'm just angry now.

I'm overweight, and this does not warrant a ton of sexual advances, but it happens. Kind-of often.

It's always a comment on how large I am, or how pretty I am.

I'm a larger person, so I don't have nearly as many of these encounters, because I think I hold my self pretty confidently and I look like I can pack a punch, but my friend Addy(who is all but 100 pounds and attractive) told me tonight she has been followed a total of 5 times!!

5 TIMES!!!

All I could think when the moment was over, is how so many people are going to be furious with this man, after they find out on Facebook what he did to me.

And then I caught myself.

It's stupid easy to be furious at this strange man that followed me.

He is a stranger.

Probably on drugs.

He's what the world considers to be "trash"

He emotionally harmed someone who was not asking for it, who is well loved and honest.

It's super easy to condemn him.

Yet, here we are, voting and supporting white collar males into office who are supposed to be leading, caring, and creating peace and imposing justice on our society.

Some of these men have all but chased women into Dollar Stores, some have done far greater deeds.

Yet we don't condemn them.

I'm just angry.

I'm angry that I'm "lucky" because of my weight, to not receive unwanted attention from men.

I'm angry, that my dear friends, have to defend themselves in these terrifying moments, when we the church should be defending them, NO MATTER WHAT KIND OF CLOTHES THEY ARE WEARING.

I'm angry because we are called to be the light of the world, yet I feel like I am drowning in darkness.

I'm angry because there are STILL people, who make jokes, and say things like "What was she wearing?" or  "she deserved it." or "she should have been paying more attention" or my personal favorite "She should carry a gun"





This is the season of Advent.

It is the season where we prepare ourselves for the arrival of Jesus.

Where we remind ourselves and our communities and mostly each other, that the old is gone and the new is here.

That there is hope.

That it doesn't have to be like this.

Because Truly He taught us to love one another
His law is love and His gospel is peace

Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease

We remind each other. That we are light. 

That we are the living breathing presence of Jesus in this world, where women are still called liars and sluts when they try to be honest about their stories. 

I'm so lucky that society doesn't view me as desirable. 

Can you imagine, if my body was good enough to sexualize?!

Can you imagine if someone decided that my body was good enough for it to become their decision?!

The world doesn't have to be this way! 

We get to step in and say no more. 

We get to help decide what this world looks like. 

I'm sorry this is messy and there is no easy way to end this. 

I'm sorry the world is broken. 

I'm so sorry, that so many people face this. 

I am so sorry that the world is getting darker and darker. 

I promise to do my best to believe in you. 

I promise to do everything in my power to support and hear you.

I promise to see you. 

I promise that there is light. 

My life is proof that Jesus redeems all things. 

You are light, you are a reminder of light to this world. 

You are a reminder that not even death can drown out the light. 

To my dear dear friends who are loving, kind, and caring men, 

You have to help. 

You have to help by resisting the societal pressure to make every woman sexualized. 

You have to help, by speaking up. 

You have to help by believing. 

You have to help by being the light too. 

You have to help by not seeing women as softer, more delicate, sexual beings for you to conquer, protect and save. 

You have to help by building us stages to tell our story. 

You have to help by not telling us how you can or are able to help! 

You have to help by learning to be okay with being in the back seat, we're not here to over throw you, we're here to be heard. A lot of us are, and we need your microphones.

You have to help by giving us your hand. 

You have to help by listening. 

You have to help by telling your stories too. 

So hear this, let it ring from the insane, beautiful, treacherous mountain top that is your life! 

Ephesians 1:3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. 

4 For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love 

5 he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— 

6 to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. 

7 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace 

8 that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and understanding 

May you experience heavens perfect peace, may you experience heavens perfect breath, and may we 

live our lives bringing perfect heaven colliding into this broken world. 

And may this season of Advent remind you to continue moving forward even in darkness. 

Occasionally too much

This is from the girl that talks too much.

This is from the girl that feels too much.

This is from the girl that takes up too much space.

This is from the girl that sings too much.

This is from the girl that moves too much.

This is from the girl that dances too much.

This is from the girl that thinks too much.

This is from the girl that hurts too much.

This is from the girl that see's everyones perspective too much.

This is from the girl that cries too much.

This is from the girl that sees everyones potential too much.

This is from the girl that thinks too much.

This is from the girl who misses her friends too much.

This is from the girl who loves too much.

This is from the girl that wants to scream too much.

This is from the girl thats room is too messed up.

This is from the girl that gets too worked up.

This is from the girl that is too much a perfectionist.

This is from the girl that procrastinates too much.

This is from the girl that weighs too much.

This is from the girl that is too short.

This is from the girl that isn't short enough.

This is from the girl that dreams too much.

This is from the girl that doesn't work out too much.

This is from the girl that works too much.

This is from the girl that blogs too much.

This is from the girl that prays too much.

This is from the girl that doesn't pray enough.

This is from the girl that loves the gays too much.

This is from the girl that loves church too much.

This is from the girl that loves that one pair of leggings too much.

This is from the girl that loves Jesus too much.

This is from the girl that doesn't love Jesus enough.

This is from the girl that is too much.

I exist.

I take up space.

I am the worlds greatest dichotomy.

I breathe.

I enter rooms and the atmosphere changes.

I am too much.

I am not enough.

I am who I am.

I don't know how to love who I am.

This is from the girl that worries too much.

This is from the girl that loves you, but doesn't love me.

May you see the space you take up as sacred.

May you see the space others take up as holy.

May the too turn into enough.

And may the not enough turn in to too much.

May you love too much.

Always.