Here’s to my patchwork world

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Let’s do a little recap (yes, even before we get started).

1981 – I was born in Birmingham, Ala.
1988 – After several moves within the city, I move to Jacksonville, Fla.
1990 – My family moves to a different part of Jacksonville.
(Here’s where it gets fun.)
1999 – I move to Tallahassee, Fla., for college.
1999-2002 – I won’t bore you with the details of a plethora in-town moves. I think there were like five of them?
Summer 2002 – I spend two months as a camp counselor in California.
January 2003 – Home, home on the range… er, beach… er, suburbs… I move back to my parents’ house in Jacksonville.
March 2003 – Here I am again, back where I began… or at least 60 miles away. I move to Tuscaloosa, Ala.
Summer 2004 – They always say Campus Crusade summer project will be the best summer of your life, and I never really believed it. But living in Orlando, Fla., for ten weeks with 44 other Campus Crusade for Christ interns was amazing.
August 2004 – With nothing more than a four month commitment on the mind, I return to Birmingham.

I spent the weekend with 21 friends from a number of different states. Georgia and Kentucky aren’t so far away, but Wisconsin, Kansas, New York and others are a heckuva drive. As we laughed at inside jokes (and created new ones!) and shared what the Lord has been doing in our hearts, I couldn’t help but marvel at the oddity that is long distance friendship.

That concept has boggled my mind for years. When I was an eager young Campus Crusader, I never understood why others from my campus would spend so much effort getting to know strangers at Christmas Conference. We’re all going back to different campuses, I thought. Why not focus your energy on the people coming back with you?

In a four day conference setting, I would still maintain that point of view. But as my life progresses, I recognize the value of these friendships.

I’m in a place right now where I don’t have a lot of meaningful friendships. I know people in Birmingham, and it’s getting to the point where I can go out to a movie and not have to do it alone. But the friends who are willing to pray for me regularly and challenge me spiritually are spread throughout the country.

I’ve been a little nostalgic and a little mushy this week, so pardon my non-sensical ramblings. But I look at the number of people in my life who really know and love me, and I feel blessed beyond belief. So right now they’re not in my backyard… but the community I’ve experienced provides both encouragement and a challenge. If God has provided in the past, who am I to say he won’t provide in the present?

Who do you think you are?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I mentioned last week that I was reading Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities. One of the many issues Alexandra Robbins touched upon during the course of the book is the idea of charity. Greek organizations claim to have at least some degree of service orientation, but so often service is directly tied to their money.

I remember cynically observing this when I was in a sorority myself. Our biggest philathropy of the semester was a rock climbing party at a local gym. Other sorority and fraternity members paid money for the chance to climb and win prizes in the party-like atmosphere we established.

“This isn’t service,” I thought bitterly to myself. “This is ridiculous.”

I approached the pages of Pledged with the same attitude – until reality got the best of me.

Maybe many Greek organizations are more focused on social functions than service. Maybe the primary difference they make in their community is achieved through mommy & daddy’s money.

But isn’t that more than what I’ve done?

What a hypocrite I am to think myself better than someone because I’m not affiliated with a Greek organization (anymore). Yes, I have several friends whose Greek involvement has been a major factor in their college career. But on the whole, I still tend to look at sorority girls with disdain.

Meanwhile, I sit in cozy suburban home and focus on what I can do to make my life better. I plot what shoes I need to complement my winter wardrobe and pore over Web sites to find job openings. I read countless novels each week, and buy $3 lattes because I’m too lazy to make one in my own kitchen.

That’s not the lifestyle Christ has for me. These aren’t necessarily bad things, but they are far from loving my brother and allowing my faith to be reflected in everything I do.

The truth is, I’m ashamed. I don’t want to help other people – when I made a list of life goals a few weeks ago, that virtuous mission wasn’t on there. It’s not that I wish people ill. I’m just too damn self-centered to do much about it.

I visited a nursing home on assignment for my magazine while these thoughts were stirring in my head. Initially, I was reluctant to spend two hours there. Nursing homes aren’t exactly my favorite place to be, and I was afraid I’d be uncomfortable. But I resolved to do what I must to get the story. “Besides,” I thought, “my presence will probably mean more to these people than my discomfort means to me.”

Two hours later, I drove through the streets of downtown Birmingham with a heart made heavy by conviction. I didn’t have anything to offer those people. More than anything, I observed the ministry I was reporting on and smiled at the residents in their beds.

But the enthusiasm of the chaplains got to me. I’ve received so many blessings. Why am I so reluctant to bless others? I’ll tell you what, changing my attitude isn’t going to be easy. Though I have time to spare, I while it away watching A Makeover Story and Friends. But if you would, join me in praying for my selfishness and for how I can serve God by serving others. It won’t be the easiest change I’ve made, but it will be among the most worthwhile.

On shoes and commitment

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I ran into another pair of beautiful brown heels in Nashville this week. Like the others I’ve considered, they featured a low heel and a pointy toe. But these babies would look good with pants and skirts – and they had a fun steel-heel look that I was diggin’.

I didn’t get them.

I suppose that supports Alisa’s hypothesis that I’m a commitment-phobe. I maintain that my hesitation to buy shoes is out of wisdom, not fear. (The problem here? Will these shoes still be worth their money after I wear them three or four times? The leather was already starting to crease, and I was afraid it would destroy their appeal.)

Alisa’s not completely off, though. When I began to consider what I would look for in a church, I had to face a hard truth about myself.

You see, I tend to think that commitment will be fairly simple within the context of marriage. I know I’m never going to find Mr. Perfect, but I believe love is a choice. I will choose to love even when there are hard days, even when Mr. Right-for-Me is showing his bad side(s). Maybe I’m a little idealistic, but these ideas led me to an important comparison.

Husbands are supposed to love their wives as Christ loved the church. Wives are to submit to their husbands as though they’re submitting to Jesus. I think that’s one of the coolest things ever. But I never stop to look at the other side; what does this say about my relationship with the church?

I don’t have the best church background. I’ve attended countless churches since becoming a Christian five years ago, none of them for much longer than a year. Daydreaming little CJ thinks she can accept the faults of a man, but how can she expect that when she can’t accept imperfections in the church?

Granted, I don’t want to attend a church with faulty theology or unfriendly demeanor. There are certain “non-negotiables” in a searching for a church home – just as there are in looking for a mate. The difference is I rarely recognize the difference between non-negotiables and deal breakers when it comes to the body of Christ.

I think the fault lies with me.

That’s why it’s been so important to me to pray about what I must have in a church and what I prefer. I’m only “guaranteed” four months in Birmingham (well, three months and 9 days, at this point), but I want to maximize that time. I don’t want to dilly dally between congregations forever.

So I might settle on a church before I pick up a pair of brown heels.

I’m okay with that. I think it means I’m growing.

Love has come and it’s giving me hope to carry on

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

After two days of freedom from OSP [Orlando Summer Project] rules and regulations, I’ve realized something:

I have yet to do anything that’s OSP inappropriate!

My suitcase holds several tank tops, but I haven’t worn anything that violates the high standards of my summer dress code. My mother offered me a glass of wine, but I wasn’t in the mood. To be honest, I feel like a bit of a slacker for sleeping in the past two mornings (though Lord knows the rest has done me some good!). This is life, post-OSP.

In all seriousness, I’m excited to see how this summer has changed me. After 10 weeks in a “Christian bubble,” I know my sensitivity has been heightened. I’ve been shocked to see some of the clothes people wear, and it’s weird to spot people with cigarettes.

Likewise, I anticipate changes in my behavior. I can already think of a few shirts that will be sent to Goodwill. I’m considering (maybe) purchasing a new Christian CD.

But the ways God has worked in me this summer haven’t all been so minor. He’s moving me past bitterness – a much needed change, as many will tell you. He opened my eyes to new possibilities for my future, and He introduced me to some amazing people.

I can’t numerate His works for you off-hand, but you better believe I’ll be processing through some of that over the next several weeks. I miss my fellow interns, but at the same time – it’s good to be back. Bring on real life!

Oh, how I miss these kids...!