Share the gospel – and then tell them about us!

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I rarely pause on Christian radio, primarily because I’ve become something of a music snob. But as I pulled into my apartment complex this morning, I sang along with “It Is Well with My Soul.” This was the first time I’d heard a hymn on that station, and it was nice.

The song ended, and I gathered my things to go inside. The commercial on the radio caught my attention:

“Share the gospel – and then tell them about 93.7!”

WHAT?

The first thing on my mind after someone begins to walk with Jesus certainly is not to get them plugged in to the local Christian radio station.

“I’m so happy that you’ve made this decision! Now, before you do read your Bible or anything else, you’ll want to be sure to treat yourself to a heavy dose of the crappiest music on radio….”

Memories #2

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

October 25, 2002

“I know that I’ve acted as though I’m interested in more than just a friendship… I wanted to let you know that I’m not going to pursue that.”

A general air of icky-ness had surrounded me all evening. Those words settled around me, carrying with them an unwelcome but expected wave of nauseau.

I had been uneasy all evening. After a potluck dinner with my Bible study, I met several old buddies of mine for a night of line dancing. I was quiet that evening, observing the interactions of those around me instead of contributing my thoughts to the conversation. So much had changed in the past months, leaving me isolated from this group that I once called “friends.”

Bring on the dancing, I thought to myself. It was a night where losing myself in music and motion would be therapeutic.

I drove to Stetson’s separate from the group and listened to country radio as I waited. Carolyn Dawn Johnson’s “Complicated” hit home more strongly that night than ever before, and I sobbed as I listened. Something was about to change, and I could feel it coming on.

Hours later the aforementioned blow struck. Through tears, I wrote in my journal, “Reasons Why” on repeat in the background.

God, thank You for the freedom this brings.

Freedom, indeed.

Jack of all trades, master of none

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Subtitle: A real update, because they’ve been quite foofy as of late 😉

That phrase has been rattling around in my mind for quite some time now – in fact, dating back to my college graduation. It’s been torturing me with its taunting words, implying that while I’m quite good at a number of things, nothing that I do is stellar.

This week, I’ve overcome that demon.

As it happens, I do have a varied set of interests. I love football, but I’m not so knowledgable to be a commentator (much less a player!) Those of you who read this site regularly have noticed my passion for music – but those of you who spend time with me “in real life” know that I can’t sing, play, or write. I briefly toyed with the idea of a career in interior design. I love the stuff. I’ve even suffered mocking for my “idea notebook.” 🙂 But again – I’m not that good. I’m an excellent cook, but not a gourmet chef. You get the picture.

This is a story about my triumph, not my shortcomings, so I’ll get on with the story.

The conclusion that I’ve come to is that this is why I’m a journalist. Because of my love for all of these things, I’m capable of writing an article about them. I’m an excellent researcher and a darn good interviewer (if I do say so myself!), and these skills allow me to get to the heart of the subject matter. I’ve been told that I have a grace to my writing; at least several of y’all list that as the reason why you repeatedly visit this site. 😉 Besides all that, I’ve realized over the past year or so that I love to learn.

Stop laughing, Heather. Seriously – grad school has done wonders for me. I’m just as picky as I ever was, but after almost 18 years of education, I now know that I enjoy learning if the topic’s right.

So there you have it – I’m a journalist, and I love it. Deadlines stress me out, but they’re moments that I thrive on. I love seeing my name in print, and I take pride in my work. I’ve seen marked improvements in my writing this semester. My interviews have gone from very matter-of-fact to drawing out the meat of my articles. In short, I’m growing.

Somewhere along the way, I also decided to grow up. 🙂 Moving to Alabama did a lot of that for me. When it’s time, you know it – perhaps in a way similar to how people claim you “just know” when someone is “the one.”

Really, what defines a “grown up” anyway? Relevant Magazine once pointed me to a study that reported that most Americans consider the age 26 to be a signifier of this milestone. “Good,” I thought to myself. “I have four years before I have to stop saying ‘when I grow up.'”

My friend Scott, on the other hand, argued that both he and I are already “grown ups.” Neither of us have reached the ripe old age of 26 (though he’s only months away). But in his opinion, we’re there – or at the very least, he is. We’ve both graduated from college, and he has (what I like to call) a “real” job. I’m working towards a master’s degree – that’s also a rather “adult” thing to do.

Of course, Scott also explained to me, “I’m grown up, but I think when I’m married, I’ll really be grown up.” I laughed. What if I never get married – will I never be a grown up? What if I get married when I’m forty – does it take that long to become an adult?

For me, the marking point in becoming a “grown up” has been moving over five hundred miles away from my parents. Though I’ve been living apart from them for four years, I still had a solid support system at Florida State. It was almost as though I never ventured out on my own. Though I developed many new friendships, I entered with the safety net of people that I knew from high school. I made a move toward independence, but it was in baby steps. That was what I needed then. Not so now.

I’m twenty-two, mature (most of the time 😉 ), single, and on my own. This is the time to explore life and chase dreams – and I’m doing just that. I love it.

In that, I’ve begun to find my niche. I’m preparing to apply for summer internships and I’ve been beefing up my portfolio (which now looks quite professional, thanks to a sassy number from Office Depot.) I’ve been refining my writing skills. In fact, I’ve even begun to enjoy my research. I’ve become quite the little adult.

Still, I retain a few child-like qualities. I’m young, and I relish that. I feel like an adult as I write this. My hair and make up have been styled, I’ve been up since 6:30 A.M., and I’m writing in what I hope is a coherent fashion. But I look down and I’m reminded of my youth. My feet are propped on a camping chair, and googly eyed pig socks are smiling back at me. My cup of coffee and I are quite content in my front porch rocking chair on this Thursday afternoon. My weekend has begun.

Even that weekend retains traces of my newfound adulthood, though. After I finish sharing my thoughts with you, a lengthy to-do list will become my master. I’ll be forced back into the process of maturation – but I intend to enjoy each minute of it.

Today, this is what my life is about. I’ve been brought to this front porch in small-town Alabama with great purpose in mind. While I work, I’ll dream a little, realizing that I’m becoming the woman that God intends me to be.

Love your wives as Christ loved the church

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

This is an excerpt from my journal on August 31. I know I’ve been rambling about love a lot lately. It’s been on my mind a lot, courtesy of upcoming weddings. Don’t count on these thoughts fading just yet – I’m reading Wild at Heart now, too.

Sweet Jesus – Your relentless pursuit of me is beyond incredible. It bewilders me.

I love that You’ve given us marriage as a picture of Your love for us. I want to experience that – but I want to experience it as the analogy of our relationship with you that it is meant to be.

So often I reduce my view of marriage to a self-serving institution. I want someone to keep me company and to baby me when I’m sick. I want affectionate expressions, and I want to be told that I’m beautiful.

What’s amazing is that – someday – I may have a physical manifestation of all of that. But I’ll only be blessed with such a gift to help me better understand how You love me.

I have all of those things already. You shower me with Your affection daily. Sometimes I choose to look away in disbelief – just as I may when a man echoes Your sentiments.

Your love is greater than my doubt.

Your pursuit of me is why I must allow myself to be pursued in relationships. To take the reigns of romance into my own hands is to destroy the gorgeous analogy You long to draw out for me. The man is the leader because You have chosen him to be equated to You in this depiction. I am to be pursued as the church. You’ve gifted us accordingly.

Someday, Jesus. I pray he’ll make my heart more fully Yours.

I’m tired of being alone, so hurry up and get here

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I wonder if my cynicism toward romance is rooted in personal insecurity.

One of my favorite ‘love songs’ by John Mayer neatly sums up my feelings on the subject:

Sitting home alone on a Friday
Flat on the floor looking back
On old love (or lack thereof)
After all the crushes have faded
And all my wishful thinking was wrong
I’m jaded, I hate it

I’m facing an inner struggle that I’m not certain I can resolve. I don’t believe that I am loveable, that a fallible human being could truly care for me.

Oh, but I do long for that manifestation of my Heavenly Father’s love for me! It is too tempting to push the notion of love away ‘ to determine that I’ll never fall for it. A life as a career woman wouldn’t be so bad.

But to set myself firmly against a gift that my Lord could hold in store for me is less than holiness demands. My deepest desire is to be made holy, to be perfected.

The idea still frustrates me. I have been the initiator in the relationships I’ve been in. I’ve never dated a guy who not only brought out the best in me, but challenged me to grow spiritually. (In fact, they’ve all done just the opposite!)

I dream of being pursued. I refuse to settle for less. Too often, my type A personality rears its manipulative head. The temptation to control relationships is difficult to beat ‘ especially when I know some guys would welcome it.

But it’s crucial that the man be the spiritual leader of a couple. I insist upon being chased after because of that principle. If I hunt a man down and initiate the relationship, I have no basis for confidence that he’ll be a trustworthy driver when I let him into the driver’s seat.

That’s not a risk I’ll take. I’m a grown woman with goals, desires, and ambition, but that doesn’t make me a feminist. I believe in the biblical model for marriages. If we can’t strive to uphold that standard, I’m better off single.

I realize that my ideals are lofty. Perhaps they offer explanation for my singleness ‘ so be it. I’ll be an unmarried woman for the next seventy years if that’s how long it is before a man is welcome to fill that role in my life. Rest assured that if he ever steps into that part, I will spend every remaining day striving to love him and submit to him as the church does to its Head.

Mr. Whoever-You-Are, I’m willing to put forth time and effort if you will do the same.

I do believe – help my unbelief!

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m surrounded constantly by romantic notions. Few forms of media refrain from throwing relationships in the face of the consumer. My roommate is head over heels for her boyfriend, who takes pride in leaving mushy messages on our answering machine. Many weddings approach, one of which will feature me marching down the aisle in a dress matching those of several close friends. Even my bedroom ‘ my own personal sanctuary, my chance to escape the swoonyness ‘ throws my own girlish dreams back at me.

Despite this constant deluge of input, I’m mystified. I don’t understand how a man comes to love a woman.

Oh, and vice versa. That’s a crucial note to add ‘ love reciprocated leaves me awestruck.

I’ve developed my share of crushes over the years. Believe it or not, there’s even been the occasional boy who is charmed by my wily ways.

But this is a game of hit and miss, and my tally marks lie predominantly in the latter category. Sure, there have been offers to pursue relationships that were almost tempting. Occasionally a truly stellar guy will develop ‘feelings’ for me, and the recognition of how great a catch he is leaves me wishing that the interest were mutual.

My dreams are bigger than that, though, and he deserves better. I grew up on Disney movies. To this day, I dream of a prince falling in love with this princess. The words ‘happily ever after’ conclude my daydreams, however fanciful that thought may be.

Perhaps I’ve chanced a meeting with said prince, but he’s failed to make himself known thus far.

With so many people in this world, I can only hope that somewhere there is a man that I will love, who will love me as Christ loves His church.

Faith.

What happened to Miss Independent?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I have an important announcement to make.

I don’t even want to be a June bride, okay? But around this time each year, I find myself longing for an excuse to snatch up every bridal magazine on the newsstands (Martha Stewart, here I come!) and a man to assure me that no matter which ridiculously expensive white gown I end up wearing for the thirty foot long walk down the aisle, I’ll look ravishing. (Somehow, I doubt he’d really notice that much of a difference between the fifteen or so dresses I’ll inevitably consider.)

But yes, for no rational reason, I’ve found myself dreaming of something that doesn’t seem to be in my near future. (Well, unless you consider being almost 22 years old and realizing that it’s been almost four years since your last boyfriend as sensible cause for these thoughts. In that case, I’m perfectly justified!)

The funny thing is, 90% of the time, I am actually quite content with my singleness. I’d say that’s a pretty decent percentage, seeing as how it’s the gift that no one wants. The idea of balancing a serious boyfriend with a forty hour work week baffles me. I’m so tired when I get home from work that all I want is an hour of Friends and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. I do realize that someday I’ll have to reconcile having a life with working full time ‘ but I’m grateful that the time is not now.

Besides, the freedom afforded by singleness has its perks. I don’t feel guilty for spending my spare money on CDs when my sweet boyfriend is busy doling out his hard earned cash to take me out. I can pick up and drive to the art museum in Birmingham and wander for hours without accommodating someone else’s schedule. A week long trip to Florida isn’t out of the question, and there’s no one left here to cause the dull ache that so often plagues the heart of one separated.

Even so, I did find myself envying Monica and Chandler as they walked into one another’s open arms tonight. Yeah, I did have my fellas (the aforementioned Ben & Jerry) there with me, but it’s not the same.

It’s not so much that I want to be off the market now. But it would be nice to have reason to believe that someday my husband will wrap his arms around me so possessively.

I wouldn’t mind going on a date, either. 🙂

You are not alone, I am here with you

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Yesterday I was starting to feel sorry for myself. After leaving a place where I was so connected to other people, it’s sometimes hard not to throw a pity party.

I’ve only been here for two months, and I’m not foolish enough to think that I should have developed life long friendships in such an expanse of time. The friendships that I do expect to carry with me to the grave took far longer than this to be cemented.

Still, it’s only natural to miss the kind of fellowship I once had. In Tallahassee, God really taught me the significance of bonding to others, particularly within the body of Christ. He pulled down the walls I’d built ‘ walls that I was so accustomed to that I didn’t even realize they existed. I began to allow people to step over those ruins and get a glimpse of my heart. Through His grace, I found friends who not only truly knew me, but loved me in spite of the insecurities and imperfections they saw.

I’m so grateful for modern technology! Even though each of those people is hundreds of miles away, our friendships persist. A quick phone call or a few written lines sent over the internet keep them near.

Maybe the friendships I make here will find their way to similar life-long status. Or perhaps the year I’ve got ahead of me will yield a master’s degree but little else. Regardless, I carry the knowledge that I am loved ‘ both by an indescribable Savior and by His people ‘ close to my heart. The longer I focus on that fact, the harder it becomes to keep a pity party intact. It might do me some good to dwell on it a while.

I long to see you so that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to make you strong ‘ that is, that you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith. Romans 1:11-12

The music of my heart

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

It seems that the word “romance” is a favorite in my vocabulary. I use it quite a bit, especially as of late. But look around – there is so much “romantic” everywhere!

Now, you must keep in mind that when I use the word romance, I don’t necessarily mean flowers and love songs and swooniness. That’s one type of romance, yes, but in my opinion, that’s not all there is to it. I find a romantic quality in so much of what I see in this world, as though God is wooing us to himself through His creation.

The romance doesn’t end there. I love to lose myself in a painting – my mind goes a wandering. Where am I? What’s going on here? What did the artist feel when he was painting this picture? What about it appeals to me?

But I think that perhaps the most romantic thing to me is the power of words. When used adeptly, the words that compose a good book can transport me to another time and place. They can take me outside of myself and my tiny little world and teach me new things, serving as my tour guide on an exploration of time, place, and knowledge. (Everything I need to know I learned at my local library!)

When set to music, the power of words are somehow amplified. My appreciation for good music is forever growing, and I’m not entirely convinced that it’s a good thing. 🙂 I’ve purchased four new CDs in the past month – and yes, that does add up to roughly sixty dollars! (Think of how many cute new shirts I could buy with that!)

Yet I consider it a worthy investment. I’m not sure that my words can adequately convey to you the way that these discs impact me. Silly though you may think me for saying so – music challenges me as a person. It’s often a tool of growth in my life.

You see, music isn’t merely background noise to me, but rather the soundtrack to my life. So many songs have challenged me to examine who I am – my faults, insecurities, strengths, deeply held beliefs, and dreams. For a song to send me to my knees in prayer or to a passage of scripture is not unusual. Many times, the song may not be explicitly about God or “spiritual things” – but the truth is that God is real life. He’s in everything. Whether the song is designed to praise His name or whether it speaks of locking doors, it all comes back to Him.

If that isn’t a sacred romance, I don’t know what is.