Faith – Page 5 – Carla Jean Whitley

I’m sure gonna give you a try

Posted on July 29, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I asked myself last night, how am I different away from OSP [Orlando Summer Project]? This was the result.

I decided my first week here that I would strive to be CJ, regardless of circumstance. It can be a real temptation for me to seek attention and become a people pleaser by doing whatever is “cool” to a particular group. But I reminded myself that acceptance isn’t based on these people – and if they didn’t like me, I would leave them in August anyway.

What I found instead is that people do like me. They’ve seen me at my silliest and first thing in the morning. We’ve shared secrets and inside jokes. They’ve known me with my make up stripped away and my sins exposed. Through it all, they remain my friends.

So what’s different here? I think it’s the atmosphere, at least in part. This isn’t the “real world.” I haven’t had to deal with people arguing over who has the most time with me. Habits and attitudes of these people encourage me; at school, that’s not always so. They don’t see how I react to professors and academic challenges. I don’t have my own time and space here; they don’t know the me who is quiet.

That’s okay. I’m constantly in flux. The challenges and blessings I encountered at Alabama shaped who I am. Likewise, the weeks I’m spending in Orlando are refining me in other ways. Thoreau said, “We are constantly invited to become who we are.” I pray that’s what I am always doing.

When I leave this city in a few weeks, I’ll take pieces of these people with me. Some of that may be in words or gestures, but some may be in attitude or character. I’m not sure what those changes will be, but this I know: the woman I am on OSP is not the woman I’ll be in Birmingham is not the woman I’ll be for the rest of my life. My prayer is only that each development will make me more like Jesus.

All I want to do is exalt You

Posted on July 16, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I’ve been surrounded almost exclusively by Christians for the past five weeks. Not surprisingly, this is an atmosphere where “Christianese” may freely flow. Terms like “a heart for” and “saved” are tossed about without explanation because we all understand them.

In a similar vein, “life verses” have come up many times. I’ve always thought that a funny term – I’m 23 years old, and I’ve only been serious about God’s role in my life for 4.5 years. How do I choose a verse that describes my life’s theme? Is that even important to me?

Probably not. I enjoy hearing what others consider their life verses, but I’ve had three different verses that have really hit home during this journey I call my “walk with Christ.”

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

The first couple of years that I spent growing in my Christian faith were filled with trials. Many of my high school friends were turning to me for advice on weighty problems. I spent my time trying to learn how a Christian life should look. In the midst of so much learning and change, this passage offered encouragement.

One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple. Psalm 27:4

As I graduated from college and sought new direction for my life, I questioned my priorities. What goals did I have for my life? What steps were necessary to achieve those ends? In processing through these questions, Psalm 27:4 gave me guidance. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew that the ultimate purpose must be to know and glorify God, because that is why I was created.

My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer. Psalm 45:1

This verse seems to scream “CJ!” far more than the others. I am at my most comfortable with a pen and pad of paper. Writing isn’t something I do just because I enjoy it; I am passionate about using what skill I have to encourage Christians and non-Christians alike. I don’t know that I’ll be employed by a Christian publication, but that circumstance is irrelevant to my goals. I want my words (both spoken and written) to edify readers, whether I write for Relevant, a Campus Crusade publication or Southern Living.

You are the most excellent of men and your lips have been anointed with grace, since God has blessed you forever. Psalm 45:2

What’s funny is that the lines following my “life verse” are beautiful but distinctive in a completely different way. Verse one of this psalm calls to mind my life’s goals, but verse two taps into a different desire: a husband.

I’d like to get married someday. Should that day come, I would love to recite these words to my husband. Surely he’ll be the “most excellent of men” in my eyes – that’s why I’ll marry him, after all.

The idea of lips “anointed with grace,” however, blows me away. I’m not sure what the author had in mind when penning this psalm, but to me they draw out a powerful image.

The man I imagine isn’t a wimp who is soft of speech and lacking confidence. He’s a man who is self-assured, not because he’s got so much going for him (though he probably does), but because his worth is tied up in Jesus. He’s the same person regardless of circumstance.

That includes his relationships. Instead of mocking the girl who tries too hard or the guy who flirts with every girl, he embraces their contributions to the world.

I’ve learned that it’s important to not only know my standards, but to become my standards. Am I the sort of woman that would attract the kind of man I desire? Moreover, am I bringing glory to God?

This idea has resurfaced many times lately, particularly regarding speech. I try to be an uplifting influence, but I often pepper my speech with sarcasm or crass words. A friend informed me recently that it’s not ladylike to say things like “butt load.” While I think he was mostly kidding, he has a point. My purpose isn’t to impress boys, and butt load may not be derogatory to God – but is it edifying?

Romans 12:1 instructs us to be “transformed by the renewing of your minds.” The Christian bubble in which I dwell may not represent “real life,” but it is serving as an incubator for these thoughts. August 14 may find me a changed person.

Are you strong enough to be my man?

Posted on July 1, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

“But I have to warn you; this may make me a better person and that is not the man you fell in love with!”
–Chandler Bing in “The One with the Nap Partners”

I don’t know how it came up. Perhaps it was because relationships are a hot topic on summer projects. (This is “Campus Crusade for Couples,” after all.) But yesterday I found myself explaining my love of Chandler to my friend Daniel.

“I like guys who are a little bit of a jerk,” I said.

I couldn’t make him understand why that is, or even exactly what I meant by that. Then I realized that I wasn’t sure what those words signified.

I spent the rest of the afternoon pondering that statement. There’s a difference between a healthy dose of sarcasm and jerkiness, of course. So why did I phrase my thought in that way?

You know what I think it is? I have this stereotypical image of my Christian brothers. Those that actually date are gentle, soft beings – whether in my erroneous view or in reality. If they show interest in us (specifically in me), they must be weak.

What a ridiculous idea! Am I so afraid of fitting into some preconceived mold that I look down my nose at perfectly fine men? Are my standards so high that they’re unrealistic?

I don’t know the answers to those questions. The men who have been and who will be in my life often don’t fit the boxes I’m trying to draw. And what of the guys who do slip by my crazy ideas of what I want? How do my words reflect on them?

I don’t want to be what I mentally paint as a bland, cheesy Christian. I long to be someone who is making a difference, who is living. Somehow I want relationships that reflect that desire.

It’s cold, baby

Posted on June 16, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I took the first several steps cautiously, fully aware of the other women around me. I was teetering on black heels as I embarked on a mandatory prayer walk around the church parking lot. My words were soft mutterings even after I separated from the group.

The assignment was in conjunction with the evening’s Bible study. We’re focusing on the heart, and tonight’s lesson asked us to examine ourselves for bitterness. We were each given a slice of onion to represent the “bitter root” in our lives. After praying about it, we were to symbolically throw the pungent food away then return to be cleansed from its odor.

My roommate Jillian referenced my bitterness, only partially in jest, as we set about the task. She knew I had some stuff to deal with, and I knew I wasn’t excited to confront it.

I’ve referenced my skepticism about men many times to most people who know me (Jillian and our other roommates included). Those feelings aren’t directed at any particular person, but they are the residue from past moments of anger.

As I prayed through these thoughts, I began peeling away the onion’s layers. I paused at the second layer to snack on a bit of the raw vegetable.

That snack was just as crucial as the rest of the task. Much as I like onions, I enjoy bitterness. It’s a defense mechanism. When I’m defensive, I push people away. In theory, I minimize my chance of hurt. The bitter sarcasm even garners a few laughs along the way. But like the onion turns my breath sour, that bitterness stinks up the rest of my being.

I continued to peel away the layers as I prayed. It’s been quite some time since I’ve harbored bitterness toward an individual. Perhaps that’s what makes it so hard to move on?

I’m comfortable with the walls bitterness has constructed around my heart. To let go of that is allowing God full control of that portion of me. I know He is trustworthy and good. His provision and protection are far greater than anything I can construct.

Even so, I didn’t want to release the tiny portion of onion that remained after the peeling. What I was left with was too small to hurl away, but I needed to relinquish it nonetheless. As I flicked it away, I prayed in faith for God to revolutionize my heart. It’ll take His power to eradicate the last bits of bitterness from my life. I feel naked before Him; less than 24 hours later, I struggle not to clothe myself with that sin.

But the one who calls me is faithful. He will do it.

There’s a reason for the season

Posted on June 6, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

And I will wait to find if this will last forever

Posted on June 2, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I lead a charmed life.

Sure, I have plenty of problems. Some of them are even major issues, things so serious that I’ve been praying about them for years. But the hard times are more than compensated for by the blessings I’ve received.

One of those has been the number of amazing roommates I’ve had. During my years at FSU, I heard many of my friends complain about roommate problems. I was always left marveling at my good fortune.

That “luck” (if you want to call it that) started with a game of roommate roulette prior to my freshman year. I was late in applying for housing and didn’t know anyone to ask to be my roommate, so I allowed Florida State to pair me with someone. That “someone” was Alison, a reserved girl from Gainesville who thought I had fun taste in music and didn’t mind when my milk spilled all over the fridge (even though she was a vegan). Despite our differences, we got along fabulously. We loved creating jokes that drove Heather crazy, and we respected one another’s space. Our giggles carried into the next several years – we remained roommates until I left Tallahassee in December 2002.

During the summer between our first and second years, I subleased an apartment with Apryl. We bonded when we lived diagonally from one another in the dorm (Heather was her roommate). The six-week summer session was filled with visits to Stetson’s, dinner parties and dancing in the rain. Apryl and I will probably never live together again – our living preferences are completely different. But we walked away from that summer with new memories that continue to bring laughter even five years later. (And Apryl continues to tell those stories to everyone we meet! ;))

That’s Apryl on my right.

Alison and I were reunited as roommates when the fall semester started, though this time we lived down the hall from one another in the townhouse we shared with two other girls. I’ve already mentioned Heather, with whom I have spent countless talking till four a.m. Those two shared a bedroom, and I roomed with Paula on the other side of the apartment. The four of us moved across town to a four bedroom house in August 2001. Some of my favorite memories of those years come from the hours we spent in the living room, talking about everything and nothing or watching (and mocking) Paula’s soap operas. Heather and I were able to spend some quality time with Paula several weekends ago on the evening before her wedding. It was so much fun to watch one of my roommates walk down the aisle and begin a new chapter of life!

Me & Heather hamming it up – as usual!
After Paula and I graduated, Heather’s little sister Erin and my little sister Cristin moved into the house. (Yes, she was so… so PAULA that it took two people to even begin to fill her space! ;)) That was an experience! They are both very dramatic – we used to describe them to people as “imagine us, only on speed.” They too were a bit messier than I prefer, but we had some great times belting out “How the Other Half Lives” in the living room.

When I moved to Alabama, I found a place to sublease using a roommate Web site. Even then, the girls I ended up with (Lauren and Sarah) were good roommates. We weren’t as close as I have been with the others, but we enjoyed one another’s company and even spent some time together outside the apartment. (And more importantly, Lauren was even more of a neat freak than I am! I felt like the sloppy one!)

Today marks the end of an era, according to my current roommate. I half laugh whenever Alisa utters that phrase; though I agree with her, it seems an era would be so much longer than the ten months we’ve spent together. I believe it was on my first night in San Diego last summer that I prayed about the friendship that would grow as we were roommates. I had prayed about it before (hey, pray without ceasing and all that jazz!), but it wasn’t until then that I considered how little time we had actually spent together. I suspected that we would have a blast as roommates, but we had only met once before. I suspected that the next two weeks (in which we would hang out in California and then drive across the country) would reveal a lot about how we would get along in the months to come.

CHEESE! Yes, we're silly.

I was right.

We had a blast on that trip – I couldn’t have asked for a better time! We’ve learned each other’s quirks and know how to read one another’s behavior. She knows what it means when I’m eating too much popcorn, and I have the freedom to tell her when she’s overthinking. We’re not embarrassed to dance around the apartment like fools… or to dance in public like fools. We can have a great time taking pictures around Tuscaloosa (at least once a month!) or simply sitting in the apartment discussing theology.

She’s been my closest friend in the state, which has been especially significant in a time when such friends were few and far between. I’m going to miss her when I return in August (heck, I’m going to miss her when I drive away today!), but that’s the beauty of these deep friendships. They don’t just fade away unless you give up on them. I’ve always thought that a roommate is a special kind of friend. It’s almost like having a twin sister – someone with whom you’re so close that you can express your thoughts with minimal words.

San Diego 2005? Here’s hoping!

And I will pay no mind When it won’t, and it won’t, ’cause it can’t, It just can’t (It’s not supposed to).
–John Mayer

And it’s not me Not my sanctity

Posted on May 20, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m a rather finicky, opinionated person. I know this. It’s not one of my best traits, though it is one way that my passion (for life, for grammar, whatever) shines through. I try not to express my opinion in a way that disgraces another, but I don’t always succeed. Sometimes I’m far too argumentative about something that doesn’t much matter. (And hey, no need to confirm that – I already know it’s true, thanks. 🙂 I’m trying to improve.)

Consider yourself warned.

I don’t particularly like the words “secular” and “religious.” They’re buzz words that catch my ear. When I hear them, I prepare to filter the hyper-Christian culture from whatever is said. That mindset isn’t always a relevant one, but that has become my first instinct in such situations.

Why do we separate the secular from the religious? Can they really be separated? I have a hard time thinking so.

I encounter this idea most often in regard to music. I don’t think secular is necessarily the best word to describe an artist or a song, simply because they aren’t marketed primarily to a Christian audience. In fact, I would say it’s usually not the best descriptor. My favorite band is a great example of this. Nickel Creek is a band of three Christians, but you won’t hear their songs on a Christian radio station. (Heck, in Alabama, you won’t hear them on any radio station!) Is their music secular because of that? I don’t think so. Their songs are God-glorifying, regardless of who’s listening.

That idea applies to my daily life, as well. I’ve chosen not to pursue a career in vocational ministry. It’s quite likely that I won’t end up with a job at a Christian publication. Even so, I strongly believe that my work should bring glory to my creator. My faith plays a role in everything I do, even in moments when I choose to overlook it. I hope that’s evident, at least to some degree, to everyone who knows me.

For what it’s worth, if you ever want additional insight into the “spiritual” reasons that I am so passionate about journalism, you ought to check out this book. I am constantly pimping Tim Downs’ Finding Common Ground to anyone who asks what my favorite book is, because it’s the best book about evangelizing I’ve read.

Stop trying to figure it out, deep will only bring you down

Posted on May 20, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

Over the past month, I’ve been rolling an idea around in my head: sometimes failure is easier than success.

I’ll admit that idea doesn’t always show itself in the form of failure, per se. You could substitute “settling” for “failure” with the same result. It may have been easier to go on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ when I graduated from college instead of choosing a different career path. It was easier to kick off my graduate career at the same university I’d been attending for years instead of entering a risky field elsewhere. Conversley, it was scary to drop out of grad school in favor of living with my parents and praying about my next step. I thought I was crazy – and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one! – when I moved to Alabama halfway through a semester to prepare for another academic program.

Though I’ve only two classes remaining in my chosen major, there are still days when I worry I’ve made bad decisions. Journalism is an extremely competitive field; can I hack it? Is my skin thick enough to absorb the countless rejections that I’ll receive (indeed, have already received)? Do I have the talent and drive that it will take to be a success?

The answer is simple. I don’t know. All I know is I’ve got a passion for writing that feels almost as deep-seeded as Jeremiah’s fire in his bones. I may prove unsuccessful in this career, but all I know is that I must try.

I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a (red dirt, kudzu consumed) cliff. Scratch that – I’ve already taken a tentative step forward. Small and uncertain as it is, that step has sent me falling quickly toward a new destination. I see the safety net at the bottom, but it’s not a job or promise of financial prosperity. Instead, Jesus is blocking my view of those things. I don’t know what hides behind him. But I do know, even as my heart leaps into my throat, that he will catch me.

And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19

The night wants to kiss you deep And be on his way

Posted on May 18, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

Tonight I’m in the mood to have a boyfriend.

I don’t know what brought that on, but as it’s become a fairly rare wish, I thought it worthy of mention. I’m not sure when I became so anti-swoony in my attitude toward men. I wasn’t always this way, and I’m afraid it will take nothing more than “Mr. Right” to snap me out of it.

I received my share of condolences this weekend as I attended yet another wedding as a single woman. The funny thing is that I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I don’t pity myself! I’m 22, reasonably attractive and content with my place in life. (Okay, I’m not content with the student loans, but besides that…) I don’t want to be married right now.

Okay, so that’s due at least in part to the lack of interesting, available men around me. I’ve decided that I won’t do much dating in Tuscaloosa. In my year here, I’ve met one man with potential and that didn’t happen.

Sure, there’s plenty of other reasons, most of them logical in nature. But you know what I realized? I don’t want to be identified as “so-and-so’s girlfriend” or “so-and-so’s wife.” I’m CJ, I’m my own person, and I like it that way, thankyouverymuch.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t be caught up in other people’s opinions of me. I can’t let others define my identity. But I’ll be frank here. I know I tend to label some of my friends’ significant others as nothing more than that. We’re getting to the point where we’re far enough separated that I don’t really know the husbands and boyfriends of even my closest girl friends. The stories I’m told and my brief interactions with them help to flesh out the storyline, but in my mind they’re still supporting characters.

More than anything, I don’t want to identify myself as “so-and-so’s girlfriend.” Second to Christ, my opinion about myself is the one that matters most. I never want to find my identity wrapped up in another human being. It should come first from Jesus and second from my personality and interests, I think.

These are probably good realizations to have when I’m (momentarily, temporarily ;)) wishing for a man in my life. I told a friend the other day that I think I’m becoming more self aware… and part of that awareness is realizing potential and current weaknesses. Step two is relying on Christ for strength and change. Even as this fleeting desire begins to pass, I’ve got to keep my eyes turned heavenward.

And there’s a rare bit of public spiritual reflection for you.

But that’s the broken place that’s where you are

Posted on April 27, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

Well, I was never less than perfectly happy without you
And I was never more inclined to stay on my own
But I guess the best surprises come when you’re not looking
‘Cause I was dying, but I never would have known

I know I’ve been quoting Tara Leigh Cobble (and in this case, Oliver Lollis) quite a bit lately, both in my blog and my away messages. There simply aren’t enough artists who sing about these screwed up relationship things from a Christian perspective!

Not that I’m in a relationship, mind you. I’m no where close! But I go through these cycles where I think about guys a lot, and right now I’m at the peak of another.

See, there’s a problem with this house that I’ve constructed
Fashioned carefully from all the strongest stones
‘Cause I see cracks in the walls I’ve never noticed
Ignore the crumbling as I try to live alone

This could be the theme song of my love life, only without anyone on the receiving end. I don’t know when I got so skeptical about men (though those of you who know the ex-boyfriend should know that it was long before he entered the scene). But sure enough, this is where I am.

You know what? I kind of like my “anti-swoony” attitude. I used to be the girl who daydreamed about marriage on a daily basis. I doodled my (future) kids’ names in the margins of my notebooks when I should have been paying attention to my Old Testament professor. (Sarah Grace and Caleb Joshua are my favorites, in case you were wondering. Joshua is the best name ever.) My closest friends and I would make bets on which of us would be the first down the aisle, and I often had the most votes.

And I said, “love is such a weakness, and it’s better not to fall,”
And I’ll admit, it’s satisfying to pretend that I am strong
You know, no one has accused me of not trying to know it all
But I’m finding that I’ve never been so wrong
For everyone but you

That girl disappeared somewhere along the line. I don’t know what (or who?) caused that, except perhaps a healthy dose of reality. Instead of daydreaming about wedding gowns, I’ve nearly gone to the opposite extreme. My attitude is now one of “I don’t need a man, and you’re crazy if you’re going to convince me otherwise.”

There’s a warm day once a week when winter’s ending
Bringing little bits of summer yet to come
It’s like those times that we’re together when it’s tempting
To take your hand instead of turn and run

There’s some truth to that. I don’t need a man. I’m happy to be a young, single Christian woman. I’m throwing a lot of effort toward starting a career, and I have some great friends for support. I have interests, I have hobbies, I have Jesus. I don’t have a boyfriend.

See, I could talk all night about how I’m so happy
But I’d be wasting words on things just halfway true
If real contentment is a constant, then I wonder
Why I often wish that I were holding you

There’s effects of that mentality. Despite the truth in it, my desire for independence is also rooted in doubts and insecurity. Therefore, if I find myself intrigued by a man, I’m quick to beat myself up for it. “It’ll never happen!” I tell myself. “You’re just being silly. Put that out of your mind.”

And you can call it what you want, and write it off as just temptation
Wear the single life and dress it to the nines
But those sweet freedom berries make a bitter glass to drink
When no one’s there to share with you the wine

I think that extreme may be just as bad as the other. Balance, please?

–Tara Leigh Cobble & Oliver Lollis, “Winter’s Ending”