I know I might step on some toes with this one and I (truly) apologize in advance. I’m really not trying to be divisive or mean. I hope you’ll be understanding.
I’m not sure when this trend began–somewhere in the eighties, I’m sure, alongside the self-esteem movement. Parents were suddenly thrust into a world of comparison and competition. Oh, well, my kid did this and my kid did that. Out of this movement grew the increased pressure for children to perform.
Labels were slapped around liberally. Excelling. Talented. Superior. And my least favorite…
Today’s guest post comes from my friend Destiny Alfonso, who is not only lovely herself, but has a stylish blog called A Place for Us. She blogs about home decor, entertaining, and all things beautiful (If you’re into decor like me, be sure to check her out). She also happens to love Jesus and so I invited her to share with us today.
…Or Jane. Average is a word that’s followed me most of my life. I’ve always thought of myself as an average girl. Not horribly bad,not angelically good. Just average.
Maybe it’s because I had two super smart siblings, one older and one younger, who were both labeled “gifted a”t an early age. Meanwhile, I had undiagnosed panic attacks during those gruesome second grade multiplication tests.
But then again it might be because while straight A’s put students on the honor roll, I brought home a mixture of A’s and B’s and the dreaded C. I was on the average roll.
Throughout high school I lived for sports. Volleyball was my passion.During the off season I ran on the track team. I certainly wasn’t the worst person on the team. Nor did I ever come in last place in a race. But the best? First place? Eh. Just average.
I also love music. I played the clarinet and used that knowledge to teach myself to play the piano. I remember recording myself on my pink and teal boom box singing Brandy and Monica “That Boy is Mine”… It was ok. Not GREAT. Actually, it was pretty funny. Yep… just average.
It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized that I was labeling myself average. Every time I would try something new and have some success at it I would find myself saying, well, you’re not the best so maybe this isn’t for you.
I have trust issues. I’ll be the first to admit it. I don’t always go around parading my trust issues on a big, grand, tissue-covered float, but they are there nonetheless…just beneath the surface.
I’m pretty good at appearing to be trusting. I nod my head when people say they love me, or care about me, or will pray for me, but somewhere deep inside, in the quiet places no one likes to talk about, I doubt everything you say.
Sure, you love me, Sure, you care about me. Sure, you’ll pray for me…right.
I mean, I want to trust you. I want to believe every single word you say, but it just ain’t happening. I don’t trust you. Here’s why…Continue reading I Don’t Trust You…
Shortly after becoming a Christian, while sitting in church one Sunday morning, my pastor gave a sermon that helped shape my view about sin forever.
He asked us to imagine that God had declared a day, Free Sin Day (which he pointed out would of course never happen). On Free Sin Day, we believers could commit whatever sin we wanted with no consequences or repercussions. We were absolutely free to sin that day, no shame, no guilt, no worry.
My best friend who was sitting next to me looked over at me. She smiled. I smiled. We both knew exactly what the other one was thinking. I knew what sin she would commit and she knew what sin I would commit. Continue reading Free Sin Day
Today’s guest post comes from the marvelous Matt Appling, who is the brain behind the blog The Church of No People. I happen to adore Matt’s blog and wish that mine was as cool as his. Pretty much everything he writes I could steal and use on Modern Reject. It’s that good. So without further ado…
I owed Nicole a guest blog since she blogged for me over the summer. So she cashed in her “IOU one blog post” while she’s recuperating from having a baby. That’s awesome. Bravo.
And as I think about that, I think about one thing that exists in our culture, one problem that I think looms bigger than almost anything, one thing that every kid is going to have to deal with. It also happens to be the reason we’re all here.
Sex.
Geez, we’re obsessed with it. And ashamed. And grossed out. And completely obsessed. We really have a love-hate relationship with it.
And of all the things we do with sex, this is the one thing I think we mess up more than anything.
“I’m participating in a blog series hosted by Ally Spotts called Confessions of a 20-Something Christian, where 20-Somethings get honest about their lives, loves and regrets. My confession is…
I had sex long before marriage. And here’s why…
Unfortunately, one of the defining characteristics of Christians (as defined by other Christians, of course) is that we remain virgins until marriage.
Heck, that alone explains why so many Christians get married young–they can’t wait to have sex. But then there’s me.
I didn’t wait until marriagebecause no one told me not to. Sounds a bit over-simplified, I know, but it’s the truth. I did not grow up hearing “Don’t have sex.” I was told about the mechanics of sex at any early age and then told to use protection when I was older.
The saddest part, is that I never actually wanted to have sex. I didn’t become a Christian until I was almost 17 and by then I’d already lost my virginity.
All along the way though, I never felt right about sex. I always had a feeling that what I was doing something wrong, dirty, or shameful. I went along with it because, well, it’s what all the cool kids were doing…
When you think of danger, what comes to mind? James Bond? Racing cars? A haircut at Great Clips? Or perhaps the ever-gripping-television-phenomena, Ice Road Truckers?
When I think of danger, I think of “Mayday, mayday! Get out of the way!” To me, the word danger signifies a potential danger, something to come. I tell my kids not to cross the street alone or to touch the stove because it is a “danger.” It is the trouble that could come from not obeying the rules.
The word “danger” and Christian are not often associated unless someone is, unfortunately and incorrectly, stereotyping Christians. Christians are thought to be kind, gentle-natured, loving folks. Or they are portrayed as hypocritical, judging, fundamental, big-fat meanies. But can a Christian be dangerous and should they be? Continue reading The Dangerous Christian
Most Christians are really good at saying “Yes, all I have is His,” and what we are saying (or what we pretend to be saying) is that our “things” and our money ultimately belong to God.
We make grand gestures about it all belonging to Him. We talk about the fact that our earthly possessions are just that…earthly. We nod our head in conversation with other believers about our financial responsibilities. We use words like “tithe”, “give”, and “steward.”
But when do we really give? And how generous is this so-called giving? Does it make us uncomfortable when we fill out the check or do we not give it a second thought? Do we tithe our 10% consistently? Or forget that, do we tithe above and beyond that 10%? Do we tithe even when our rent or mortgage is late and our fridge is empty?
I’ve known so many. I’ve met so many believers who are alone. Alone in the Body. Alone in their thinking and doctrine. Alone in their expression of church.
We all know them–the person who doesn’t attend church or isn’t part of any church community. The person who walks around feeling isolated even among other Christ-followers. The person who is rejected or misunderstood for whatever reason.
I had never really considered the differences between introverts and extroverts. I had never stopped to examine what I might be. I never cared…that is, until I met my husband.
Suddenly, standing next to my then-fiance, I realized that he and I were quite different (painfully so) when it came to how we interacted with people.
One particular Sunday following a church service at the mega-church we used to attend, Jonathan was walking me around and introducing me to numerous people. As the number of new faces grew, I slowly began to shrink. I froze. I became silent. I put my head down and avoided eye contact.
He pulled me aside and, in a loving yet stern way, told me that I was coming off as rude. He knew I wasn’t rude, he explained, so something needed to change. i.e. me.
It was then that I realized that I was an introvert who had all along been posing as an extrovert. The thing I soon came to realize, also, is that “introvert” is not a dirty word…Continue reading Introvert is Not a Dirty Word
