…domesticating you until you look just like me…

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

“I repent of parading my liberty
I repent of paying for what I get for free
The way I believe that I am living right
by trading sins for others that are easier to hide
I am wrong and of these things I repent.”
–Derek Webb

I was in the midst of a rather engaging conversation about my Friday night—a discussion of music and literature, two of my favorite vices—when my pastor dropped in with a brief statement.

“I love Patty Griffin,” he said. “I’m always spinning her albums.”

It was a passing comment that merited instant cool points in my book. Patty is one of my favorite musicians and many a friendship has been built or strengthened on her music. I made my way back to my seat with a smile on my face.

But as I listened to Steve’s teaching, a recurring thought distracted me from the class in which I sat. I have many music (and book) influenced friendships, but it seems there’s something wrong when a person’s choice of tunes affects how I perceive their social status.

I know I’m not alone in this, but that doesn’t absolve me of this curious guilt. People who read Paste are instantly labeled cooler (at least in my social circles) than those who read Rolling Stone or especially Entertainment Weekly. (I’ll be honest—Paste is clearly the better magazine, but I occasionally peek at and enjoy the others.) If you prefer Derek Webb to Caedmon’s Call, I’m prone to thinking we have something special in common. You’ll receive bonus points for generally thumbing your nose at the Christian music industry. If you listen to 93.7 WDJC (or your local Christian radio station), I probably have labeled you a “happy cheesy Christian.” If you know what local station plays Britney Spears, I instantly assume we have little in common.

There’s nothing wrong with friendships built on common interests. It’s only natural. But if I label people exclusively according to what they read and buy, I’m probably going to miss out on some wonderful friendships. I decided recently that the best friendships involved media recommendations, but just as quickly disproved that theory. Though I have several close friends who know just what book I need to read or album I need to hear, I have lots of others whose suggestions I take with a grain of salt. (Our tastes just aren’t always the same.)

It’s that same sense of self righteousness that shows up in my attitude toward faith and morality. As I already hinted, I’m likely to think I’m somehow a better (or at least hipper) Christian because I can’t stand CCM. Worse still, as Steve continued to preach I realized my motivation for talking about my faith is so often way off base.

On that Friday night, I was with a group of friends (and some virtual strangers) when someone made a joke about a loose woman. An internal battle ensued; I wanted to cry out, “I wouldn’t know about that because I don’t have sex because of Jesus!” I wanted to set myself apart somehow, but my attitude was very much “holier than thou” and not one of love, for these friends or for Christ.

Praise the Lord that those words didn’t escape my mouth! My own self-righteousness nauseates me, and I know it is just as filthy to God as anyone’s sexual misconduct. (The Bible compares it to menstrual rags. What a metaphor!)

The love of Christ, the redemption of all my sins (including this one!) has radically changed my life. But I still wrestle with this desire to perfect myself. Jesus ahs set me free from the eternal consequences of my wrongdoing (spiritual death, or separation from God) but I am quick to insist on continuing in this earthly battle. I am a perfectionist, and it does affect my relationships with myself, God and others. But I’ll never be good enough to compare to God. The deepest need of people who don’t know Jesus isn’t an outward morality—it’s forgiveness of their sins and a relationship with God. And though it’s been five years since I realized my own need, I am daily surprised by its depth. We don’t move past the gospel—I fall short of the glory of God every single day. If I forget that, I do so at my own peril.

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and the dish, and then the outside will also be clean.”
Matthew 23:25-26

Maybe you’re the dream I’m waking from

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28, New International Version)

One of the most amazing mysteries of my faith (besides the idea that God could become human and atone for all of my misdeeds) is encapsulated in that verse. I’ve marveled not only at God’s mercy but also his might since my first steps as a baby Christian. Both before and since setting out on this journey I’ve done things in knowing disobedience of God’s will. But even those blatantly rebellious acts have been worked to my best. Unreal… and yet so true.

I remember sitting through a lot of “girl talks” in those early days. In one such session, girls discussed how far was too far in a “Christian relationship.” I knew my newfound faith would challenge me to approach relationships differently, but I didn’t know the bounds.

I did know that, wherever that elusive line of physicality had been drawn, I had ventured far past it. I secretly hoped that, when I found the man with whom I’d spend my life, he too would have a “checkered past” and therefore would find my missteps easier to swallow.

Then I changed my mind—instead I longed for a man whose Christian upbringing would provide me with a family of faith unlike my own. The hurts I saw in my own family life would be healed in my interactions with his. Meanwhile, he would shine brightly before those I love in a way I was afraid I could not.

You could call me naïve.

My desires have long since abandoned both extremes. Now I merely desire a man who will strive to push my gaze heavenward. Whether he be a redeemed “heathen” or a genteel sort who has long embraced the umbrella of God’s grace doesn’t matter.

That’s the beauty of regeneration. Perhaps the man I will marry (if I marry) has made as many or even more physical mistakes than I. Perhaps he is as pristine as the day is long. It truly doesn’t matter if he falls to either extreme or lands squarely in the middle.

What matters is that Jesus has made him clean, as He has me. I’m not proud of what past I have, but I don’t view myself as damaged goods. Christ’s grace covers those and every mistake.

And He used them to bring me to Him. It’s strange, but He is a beautiful mystery.

Loving is fine if you have plenty of time for walking on stilts at the edge of your mind

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

My friend Luke once said I have the weirdest interactions with men of any girl he knows. If that’s not because I attract drama, I must create it. I know I’m supposed to be a journalist, but I occasionally wonder if I should have pursued a more diva-fied occupation. (Or maybe I should just work at a women’s mag. Same thing, right?)

In any case, I suppose these dramatic tendencies account for the series of romance-oriented rants I’m about to unleash on you. There’s no other good reason! I’m not interested in anyone, there’s no boy drama in my life and I’m certainly not dating anyone.

But then, I guess that last reason is part of the force fueling this tirade. Somehow a conversation between my friend Patrick and I moved from movies to dating (a far less innocuous topic, particularly when my big mouth is involved!). He seemed a bit surprised when I mentioned I haven’t been on a proper date since 1999. (In fact, when I saw it typed across my screen, I was a bit taken back. That is an awfully long time.) I told him I have my reasons, not the least of which is an exorbitant level of picky-ness. He suggested that perhaps I should cool it a bit.

To some degree, I agree. I can be entirely too uptight for my own good. But there are some things worth these ridiculously high standards.

Which leads me—where else!—back to my favorite beef. What is the deal with Christian men?

I refuse to even consider dating anyone who doesn’t love Jesus more than he could dream of loving me. Though I don’t always alighn my actions with my faith (I sin too!), I do believe said faith should be the central driving force of my life. I want to be with someone who can both understand and encourage that. It is at least one point on which I refuse to compromise.

(Another such characteristic is a willingness to dance. But that’s just an aside. :))

Meanwhile, the vast majority of Christian men I have known are not willing to step up to the plate (at least, not for me, which is what matters when I’m raving about my lack of dating life :)). I’ve had plenty of friendships with otherwise amazing men who wasted my time with meaningless flirtation. I’ve been led on at least one time too many, and I’m left behind chanting “boys are overrated.”

Yeah. I’m not so much for a healthy mindset, I guess.

The thing I’ve realized is that I’m just as bad. I’m a wonderful tease. I employ the mind games so many claim to hate, even in most of my friendships. I should work at removing the plank from my own eye before bitching about the specks in the eyes of my brothers. (I would apologize for the profanity, but is it not appropriate here? Drop the niceties—bitching is what I’m doing.)

I know I should deal with the real issues—with the bitterness I struggle to release but then reclaim as my own. But y’know, I don’t feel like it. (And I know that’s not okay.) Sometimes I like wearing this “I don’t need a man” attitude like a badge, though it is more honestly something of a faulty shield. Sometimes I embrace the insanity I portray (and I realize I sound like nothing less than a crazy in these words). Sometimes I think I would rather give up and go for the not-quite-Jesus freaks—the only men who are actually willing to pursue this idiosyncratic woman I’ve exposed.

Then I realize, they still don’t boast the single most attractive quality I’ve found in a man—a heart willing to pursue Christ recklessly.

And when I allow anger and bitterness to control me… neither do I.

Just like your family name

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

It’s kind of funny how you learn new things about someone years into your relationship. I’ve known my daddy my whole life (obviously!), but I didn’t know until this summer that he once wanted to be a lawyer.

I picked up another random fact about him this weekend. When he worked in downtown Birmingham, my dad often ate his lunch at the park I pass on my weekly visits to the library. He would follow those meals with a visit to the museum where I’ve recently begun to volunteer.

It’s not that those pastimes seem contrary to my father’s personality; I simply never imagined him as the art museum type. It’s neat to realize the better part of my Sunday afternoon somehow mirrors my dad’s time years ago.

Indeed, the older we get, the more I find my parents and I share. It’s not even me turning into my mom (and dad). That would be quite the challenge, since they’re different in so many ways. There may be elements of that, but there’s also a tendency of them becoming more like me.

My mom’s musical interests are starting to mirror mine (however slightly). Last year I bought her Johnny Cash and Dave Matthews Band CDs for Christmas, and Caedmon’s Call joined her collection at Mother’s Day. Daddy and I have had more similar tastes for years (which is how I knew he’d love the Coldplay CD I sent for Father’s Day).

But part of our increasing likeness is the work of Christ in our lives. It’s not that we’re becoming Christian auto matrons. As the Holy Spirit guides our steps and changes our desires, the foundations from which we operate become alike.

I’m not always proud of the ways I reflect my parents. The bad jokes I crack sometimes echo my mother’s silly sense of humor, and my stubbornness was once the source of many disagreements with my dad. But the sanctification in our lives is a trait of which I’ll gladly boast. Christ is at work in my family; let his work be proclaimed.

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. (Galatians 6:14, NIV)

Faith can answer Thy demands by pleading what my Lord has done

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Yes, and I must, I will esteem
All things but loss for Jesus’ sake
Oh my soul be found in Him
And of His righteousness partake

I don’t cry a lot over other people’s relationships. In fact, I think I’ve only cried over two relationships besides my own (with the exception of weddings, of course–those don’t count). But on my way home tonight, I was definitely tearing up.

It’s a humbling thing to observe love between a man and a woman. I like to think it doesn’t really exist, though I know that’s not true. (I think the root of that is more in believing lies about myself than anything–but that’s an entirely different blog entry. Every once in a while, things aren’t about me.) It does me good to see that real men do exist, and though they sometimes make mistakes, there are men who are pursuing godliness.

I can’t tell you how much respect I have for that.

Something about the handwriting made me save every scrap

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Joey: (looks at a girl walk in) see ordinarily I would talk to her, but my confidence is shaken did I sleep with her? Did I not sleep with her?
–The One with the Sharks

I’ve said before that the older I get, the more I relate to Friends. (That might explain why I watch at least six hours of the show a week.) One of tonight’s (many) episodes resonated on multiple levels. Maybe Joey was talking about confidence in his sex life… but just because don’t have one of those doesn’t mean I can’t relate.

Over the past nine days, I’ve doubted my ability in one of the things I’m best at: writing. When I received a critique from my professor on my master’s project, it was harsher than I anticipated. I began a massive revision of the project, and I think it’s going well. (I have until tomorrow evening to complete it, so we’ll see.)

But in the process, my very foundation has been shaken.

I have three near-complete articles waiting to be polished and submitted. I won’t graduate from the University of Alabama unless these rewrites are successful. After the events of the past week and a half, I no longer trust my ability to determine whether or not these articles are any good.

I fully agree with my professor’s criticism of the series. He offered useful advice. I think I’ve put that to use and transformed this from a ho-hum sophomore in college piece of work to a project fitting for a graduate student.

But what if I didn’t? I cried for over an hour the night I received his e-mail. I went to work the following morning feeling shaky. I’ve had bouts of anxiety ever since.

I’ve battled those fits in the only way I know how: through prayer. I sat in bed after a night of editing and rewriting and turned to one of my favorite chapters of one of my favorite books of the Bible. As I reread an oft-quoted passage in 2 Corinthians, truth hit me anew:

His grace is sufficient for me. His power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore, I will boast, because when I am weak, then I am strong.

My worth isn’t found in my writing. (It’s a damn good thing, too—this entry will testify that I’m not always at the top of my game!) Performance doesn’t make or break me. I try so hard to have it all together, because I’m a perfectionist, because control is my pet sin. I think I’m doing well most of the time.

That’s a lie. When I think I’m strong, I’m at my weakest, because I’m ignoring my need for Christ. I’m overlooking how the gospel applies to my everyday needs.

When I admit that I’m fallen, I rely on Christ to lift me up. Maybe the series I’ve worked so hard to save will meet my committee’s standards—but maybe it won’t. That frightens me, almost to the point of indolence.

But look at how far He’s brought me. I reflected the other day on the path from Tallahassee to Alabama. I’ve seen God’s hand all the way. Who am I to think He would abandon me here?

(And yes, if you happen to be reading this and it happens to be sometime before, oh, 6:30 p.m. on Tuesday, November 30, and you happen to want to edit my stories… please say so. I’ll be forever grateful.)

I want to cry like the rain, shine like the sun on a beautiful morning

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

In case what I wrote last made no sense whatsoever… I’ll let Tim Downs explain it for me.

A sower’s music might take many forms, but it would always possess two qualities. First, it would refuse to exalt or endorse any value that undermines a biblical worldview. A sower’s music would not, for example, lament the ultimate meaninglessness of life or extol the pleasures of casual sex. Second, a sower’s music, in form and content, would seek to undergird and strengthen a biblical view of life. It might praise the seeker of truth, or reflect on the beauty and design inherent in nature, or do any one of a thousand other things that are consistent with a biblical image of the world. On first hearing, it might seem to say little or nothing at all about God–directly.

“But that’s not Christian music,” some would complain. No, not if by Christian music you mean straightforward gospel music, music that attempts to harvest. This is music, as C.S. Lewis would say, with the Christianity latent. It’s an indirect communication that has tremendous potential for influence–over time. Imagine, as Lewis would say, if every time a teenager turned on a radio, the music he heard was not proclaiming a Christian message, but was simply consistent with a biblical worldview. Would that be of any value? Would it have any effect on the mind-set of the teenager over time? And could it have any effect on the way that teenager might one day respond to the direct appeal of a harvester?

Who could ask for more than to be living in a moment you would die for?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

No ice, no flame
No place to stand
No one to blame
No ice, no flame
Rescue me, rescue me
From the inbetween
–Sandra McCracken

I’ve noticed a trend over the past few months. Everything has become “okay.” One week blends seemlessly into the next and the passage of time is the most remarkable quality of my days. I’m moving toward a goal, but the path has been bland.

I’m not alright with leading an “okay” life. My days haven’t been characterized with glaring sins, but my time has been filled with more socially acceptable ones. I’ve been coasting along at less than what God has for me.

Jesus said He came that we might have life and have it “to the full.” The cup of my life has not been running over.

What do I want my life to look like? I have learned over the past weeks that I don’t want to lead a self serving existence. That may be comofrtable, but it’s also boring and pointless.

Neither do I want to err on the opposite extreme. There was a time when I embodied the happy cheesy Christian image. I went through the ritualistic purging of my CD collection. (Sister Hazel, out. Jennifer Knapp, in. Limp Bizkit, out. FFH, in. Needless to say, these weren’t all wise decisions.) I bottled up my struggles because “God would take care of it.” Though that’s true, I wasn’t entirely real in my relationship with Him or with others.

During that period, I learned a lot and grew spiritually. But my focus was still inward in many ways. I think that may have been part of why I wanted to join staff with Campus Crusade. It may have helped me, to some degree, avoid the corporate power struggle that quickly makes me forget my faith.

Now, I want balance.

I’m re-reading my favorite book, Finding Common Ground: How to Communicate with Those Outside the Christian Community… While We Still Can (Tim Downs). In the chapter on Christians in the workplace he asks, “What in the world does a Christian auto mechanic look like?” His point is that the Bible doesn’t prescribe action points for each possible vocation, but as Christians, our faith should be reflected in our work.

So what does a Christian auto mechanic look like? Maybe he’d be like the gentleman at Firestone Tires who is helping me find a new wheel for my car. (Long story.) It isn’t this man’s responsibility to find me a part and save me a couple hundred dollars. All I asked him to do was put new tires on my car!

Moreover, what does a Christian journalist look like? My faith and ability may carry me to a publication that seeks to combine the two. But they may not, either. That doesn’t mean my faith is irrelevant to my work.

I’ve had some opportunity to see the two interact at my present internship. Recently I wrote an article about a ministry. In doing so, I was challenged to use language that did not betray my worldview while writing to a “secular” audience.

That’s a small example, but an easy illustration of how God works at my job. The words I use are read by tens of thousands; heaven forbid I inadvertently rule out the power of prayer in the ministry’s work by careless word choice.

Maybe that doesn’t make sense to you–maybe it would seem more logical with the story in front of you. Be assured that I am not abusing my position to evangelize the city. That’s not within the magazine’s editorial mission and would be sloppy “journalism.”

Instead, I see it as my responsibility to avoid contradicting the possibility of God with my words. I don’t think you would guess from the article that I’m a Christian. But neither do I think you’d conclude that I don’t believe in God.

So I’ve spent four paragraphs of your time harping on the selection of a single word in a magazine filled with thousands of them. My point is this: I don’t want to fly below the spiritual radar. I don’t want to be one of those people I always hear stories about–people who get so caught up in their car, house, family that those responisbilities consume them. I don’t want to live for God for an hour on Sunday and merely give Him lip service during the week’s remainder.

I want to see God’s presence and live for His role in my every move. I want to see Him radically change me and those I know.

That probably doesn’t demand going into Christian service as a full time vocation, in my case. It may mean devoting myself full time for a period of my life. (I’m still praying about that/playing with that idea.)

All I know is the Christian life isn’t meant to be bland.

I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10b