Am I the only one that feels like the older I get the less I can get my head around life? I was quite sure that by 26 I would have come up with several concrete answers about exactly who I am, what I believe, and what my life will look like.
Somehow, the opposite appears to be proving true.
I have definitely grown more grounded in my faith in Jesus Christ (by the sheer grace of God, given the whimsy I more often tend towards), but I may actually be increasingly less sure of numerous other aspects of life. My opinions on politics, what the Church in America should look like, what kind of life my (hopeful) future husband and I will build together, what my hobbies and strengths really are, and even how I want to decorate my home or dress myself are all constantly changing and maturing.
Considering I thrive on challenge and suffocate under routine, I suppose some of that is to be expected?
But one thing I have figured out about myself that I don’t think is going anywhere any time soon is this:
I have a crazy streak that is no less than a country mile wide.
~Pinterest~
And I am quite ready to figure out how to embrace said crazy streak and to stop feeling guilty about it.
Cause see, I have zero interest in leading, as described in Romans 8 in the Message version of the Bible, “a timid, grave-tending life.”
But I often fear that I haven’t figured out how to…harness (if you will) my “wild side” in a way that is in keeping with living the life of an honorable, Godly woman.
I am the type to want to stay up late drinking margaritas (within reason) with my girlfriends, throwing my head back and laughing at our outrageous tales, only to end the night by streaking down the dock and skinny dipping in the moonlight while praying that no river monsters (or unseen men) notice us.
~Pinterest, and jumping into the Chattahoochee river with some of my best girls~
Take me to a live band on a restaurant patio with a cold summer beer in my hand and you will be hard pressed to keep my butt in my seat. I will be trying to talk to and dance with everyone in sight, seeing it as nothing less than an opportunity to make new friends and memories.
Don’t you dare tempt me with an opportunity to scare myself and get my adrenaline pumping, as sky diving, bungee jumping, cliff jumping, tarantula eating, and spur-of-the-moment public speaking have all eagerly found their way to me.
~Sky Diving for the first time, and cliff jumping in Lake Martin, Alabama~
And if I find myself at an exciting sporting event or concert, I can’t help but jump up and down and carry on with the wildest of fans, immersed in the moment and suddenly in love with the team or band in front of me.
As you can imagine, I have met plenty of women over the years who I highly admire and respect who seem to have little if any tendencies towards these types of behaviors.
Women who have never donned anything less than a one piece and pair of athletic shorts on any beach at any point, and who have never had more than a few slow sips of white wine in a carefully controlled setting. Women who have never been seen naked by anyone other than their husbands (and most certainly have NOT done a naked cannonball in broad daylight out of a canoe off the coast of Zanzibar, Tanzania at the daring of their girlfriends…), and who are far more horrified than delighted at the idea of throwing themselves out of an airplane for fun.
For years I would stare at them, taking them in with wide, marveling eyes, as I noticed their below-the-knee shorts, their worship-music-only playlists, and their desires to spend their free time listening to sermons alone rather than going to the beach and learning how to surf. Of course, now I realize that these people are usually just more introverted and need that time, and I definitely have those moments myself.
~Pinterest, and the surf board sign at the first beach I ever tried surfing on in El Salvador~
But in my head, all of these carefully calculated decisions about exactly what kind of fun was acceptable made me nervous, certain that alongside them I looked like a loud, outlandish, crazy fool. A person who had, at best, muttered a salvation prayer a year or two ago in a particularly powerful tent revival, and otherwise had little if any idea what it meant to be a Christian.
(Spirit of comparison, get out of my life, thank you very much.)
I would stand with one eyebrow raised in awe and one foot out the door, ready to jump in the car and just go, but unsure if maybe I was doing something…wrong, somehow. I would glance down at my (modest enough) two piece bathing suit, Pat Conroy novel, and playlist entitled “You can take the girl outta the country, but you can’t take the country outta the girl”, suddenly wondering if somehow I was failing miserably and making sweet baby Jesus cry.
~Pinterest, and Tasha and I being goofy on the beach in Zanzibar. A crab and an otter, maybe?~
Herein lies my self-doubting dilemma.
But I can’t help it.
I feel like I am suffocating, leading a “timid, grave-tending” life, when I purse my lips and keep my fanny in my chair, over-analyzing if every fun opportunity that comes my way is “too crazy” for a Jesus-loving woman to take part in. Even when it is clearly not crossing boundaries, I often twiddle my thumbs for a moment and have an intense internal battle.
“Will Jesus be upset if I do this? Will I ruin my witness to others? Will my future husband be mad? Am I misrepresenting myself and who I claim to be?” are just a few of the thoughts whirling through my mind even when it is obvious that no harm will be done.
Makes me want to poke my brain with a Q tip and just live my life already, for crying out loud.
Truth be told, I really don’t think any of my close friends or squad mates would say that I have acted at all out of line or inappropriately in a long time.
But I still fight this twinge of guilt, this recalling of 1 Peter 3 and its woman with a “quiet, gentle spirit”, and feel convinced that any desire to laugh and play and feel physically beautiful and adventurously alive is clearly not jivin’ with my “humble, quiet, Godly woman” self.
And I think I have concluded that this is an excellent example of a way that God, scripture, and human perception can find itself in a tiny and unfair box. Especially when looking at the context of that scripture and the ways God is using women after His Heart in the world today.
Why in the world would God, who delights in laughter and joy and a grateful heart, and who made us to enjoy His creation and relationship therein, want me to step back and silence this part of myself? As if that would somehow make me more lovable in His eyes?
~Pinterest~
I love Jesus far too much to intentionally indulge in a momentary, fleshy sinful pleasure, and I am pretty sure I get a Holy Spirit smack-in-the-face when it is time to sit down and shut up. Please believe me when I say that I am certainly NOT condoning a thoughtless, dishonorable, or sinful lifestyle.
I am simply saying that maybe my past thoughts and feelings of being sinful or shamefully inadequate for being more free-spirited were not coming from the heart of God.
So, as my love for my Savior deepens more than anything, I am excited to see how God uses this crazy (for lack of a better word) side of me to do something huge in His Kingdom and for His glory.
Perhaps He will send me somewhere others wouldn’t want to go to share the Gospel? or use me to reach adventurous backpackers with His love? or even to dive into more intentional relationship with young women trying to find the balance to their own “crazy” side?
The Apostle Paul, one of the most inspiring Christians who ever lived, was clearly an adventurer and proponent of letting God use every part of us in every way He wishes to for HIS glory.
Regardless of the how and where God uses me, the point is this: I can be no-holds-barred crazy for Jesus while laughing and playing my way through life.
And I intend to continuing doing so.
~Pinterest. One of my favorite photos!~
I would love to hear where or how you struggle with certain aspects of yourself with your Christian faith and what God is teaching you!
