Love the Creator? Then Love the Creation.

"People get angry at environmentalists because they think they’re slowing down the economy and creating restrictions and a lot of these people are Christian. A lot of these people are very devout Christians and that’s such a confusing thing to me - that if you believe that God gave you the Earth, that God created the Earth for you, why would you not have to look after it? Why would you not think that when he came back he wouldn't go, “What the **** did you do?! I GAVE THIS TO YOU!" - Louis C.K.

I'm in complete agreement with Louie on this one. There are so many people who claim to be Christians and love God, but don't care about this wonderful world that was created and given to us to live in. Just like Louie, I don't understand this. As a Christian who loves God and appreciates what he has given us, I believe we need to look after this planet. We shouldn't continue destroying this crazily amazing world that we are allowed to live in.

Nature is how I connect with God. I understand him more as I discover more of this beautiful planet that he made. I feel his presence whenever I'm out in nature and away from human creations. So the fact that people who claim to worship the same creator that I worship feel no remorse over destroying this planet disgusts me.

Look at it this way, if someone just gave you a couple of acres of beautiful land with wonderful animals and plants because they loved you that much, how would you treat that land? Would you chop down all the trees and let all the plants die? Would you drive all of the animals out of their habitats? Would you completely destroy that land? If you did all that, how do you think the person who gave it to you would react? Do you think they would be happy with what you did to their creation, their gift to you?

Just some food for thought.

My Hiding Place.

This is just a short creative writing, I hope you enjoy it!

Thoughts of you slithered their way back into my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get them to leave me alone, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted them to. 

I went to my hiding place. The cool spring breeze stroked my face and toyed with my hair as I paced along the low cliffs by the rushing river. This little place was my escape from the rest of the world. I sat down on the edge of a cliff and stared into the inviting, dark waters below me.

Dozens of small rocks were scattered around me. I picked one up and examined it carefully. Dark grey with speckles of black peppered across it's nearly spherical surface. The color reminded me of a moment I shared with you. A happy memory. I threw the rock as far out into the currant as I could, and watched it splash into the water, never to resurface.

Soon I was tossing rock after rock after rock into the cold water below me. I would pick each one up, examine it, and throw it out as far as possible. Brown ones, black ones, and more grey ones. Each a different shape and decorated differently.

With every rock I threw, I tossed a thought of you away with it. Your eyes, your smile, your voice, your kindness, your caring nature, your humor, your perseverance. Every detail of you. Everything I admire about you. Gone in an instant.

With a long sigh I picked myself up, brushed myself off and began to walk away. With every pace I felt my heart growing more and more distant from you. I felt the butterflies in my stomach fly away. The ache in my chest felt as if I was being ripped apart piece by piece. Breathing became harder and soon I felt suffocated by loss of you.

I turned and ran back down the rocky path towards the cliffs. Without hesitation I sprinted across the cliff that was my hiding place and leaped out into the dark currant. Water rushed into my lungs. Coldness tightened my muscles and it was impossible for me to see through the murky water. 

Details of you returned to my mind. The way you walked. The way you talked. The little spark you get in your eye when you talk about something you're passionate about. The music of your laughter. Everything I tried so hard to forget. Every rock found it's way back to me. 

I couldn't leave my rocks. I couldn't survive without them.

I never resurfaced.

Greasy Hands

Although it was not sunny outside today, and I typically don't like to go outside during cloudy days, the bike trail was singing it's Siren's Song in my head and I could not get it out. I didn't resist the urge to hop on my greasy old bike and take a trip down the ever popular bike trail. I was not even a quarter mile down the trail when something happened that I did not expect. One of my headphones fell out of my ear and got itself tangled in the chain of my bike. I pulled my bike over with a sigh, realizing that I could not ride any further with it stuck in there.

I've never been afraid of getting my hands dirty. Even as a child I would go from playing Barbies with my dad (yes, dad) to making mud pies out in the yard. I was intrigued by the feel of the cool, slick mud between my fingers. 

I set my bike on the cold grass next to the trail, got down on my knees and got to work. It was a messy job, and I soon found my hands covered in grease. I wasn't entirely sure how long it would take me to get my headphones unwrapped, or if I could even do it at all. As I toiled over this task, cyclists began to pass me by. One, two, three, two more, six, eight, twelve.... it added up rather quickly and I eventually lost count.

I don't look like a typical cyclist. I wear jeans, Chuck's, and a t-shirt during most of my ventures down the trail, and I ride a 20 year old street cruiser that belonged to my late grandmother. It would be obvious to anyone that passed me by that I was not an experienced rider and probably had no idea how to fix whatever problem I was having.

What surprised me was this: no one stopped to ask if I was okay or needed help. Please don't interpret me incorrectly, I don't have an "entitled" mentality or anything of the sort. I just know that if I saw someone in the state I was in on the side of the trail I would pull over without question and make sure they were okay, especially if they were alone like I was. I would offer my aid, even if it was just letting them borrow my phone to call a friend who could help them. 

I don't understand where our sense of community has gone. When did we collectively stop helping our fellow man? When did we all decide to start putting ourselves first? Perhaps it is fear that prevents us from helping a stranger. But how scary looking am I? I'm just an average 18 year old girl, I don't look like the rapists murderers we see on the news.

"Love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 22:39

God's Not Dead.

"The living, dynamic activity of love has been going on in God forever and has created everything else. God is not a static thing - not even a person - but a dynamic, pulsating activity, a life, almost a kind of drama. Almost… a kind of dance." - C.S. Lewis

I want to start out by making one thing very clear.

MY GOD IS NOT THE ONE THESE PEOPLE BELIEVE IN:


I think these people are Satanists, but that's a topic for a different day.

The most important thing I believe about God is this: He is Love, and Love is He. One of my favorite verses from the Bible is Romans 5:8, which says "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us," (NIV). I've previously posted my views on love, and defined the four major types of love. You can find that post here. God is the incarnation of Agape. He has that type of love for us, and desires for us to have that love for all other people (Mark 12:31).

Some people would ask, "Well what if they're gay, mass murderers, or worship other Gods?" To this I believe God would reply, "DID I STUTTER?"

I opened this post with a quote from one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis. In that quote from Mere Christianity you see that he compares God to a "dynamic, pulsating activity." He claims that God is not a person. You may be thinking "Who is Jesus if God is not a person?" You must remember he is talking about God the Father. God the Father beget Jesus as opposed to creating Jesus, because when you beget something it is a part of you. God the father, the dynamic and endless dance, could not die because he was not human, so he beget a human out of himself to come to earth and eventually die for him. In other words, Jesus is God incarnated into human form, sent to teach, show love, mercy and kindness to God's human creations, and then die for those human creations. Although God in human form died, that does not mean that the dynamic, pulsating activity of Love that is God died with it.

So that covers two parts of the trinity. Let's look at the third, the sometimes called "Forgotten God." The Holy Spirit. I believe when you become a Christian and truly hand over everything to God, he puts part of himself inside of you. Even when you are not a Christian, the Holy Spirit is there with you, trying to get through to you in whatever way he can. You are never forgotten by a God who has infinite attention and love to give you. When you accept the Holy Spirit into your life, you begin to become more like God. For me I have found that loving my fellow man is much easier now that I've allowed the Holy Spirit to fill me in ways that I never have before. In Matthew 16:24-25, Jesus says to his disciples, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it."

God is Love. We become like him when we shed our old selves. It's simple, but very complex. When I think of God, I do not picture a man with a white beard who can shoot lightening bolts out his fingertips. I do not picture westernized-Jesus, complete with white robe and curly golden locks framing his flawless pale face. Instead when I think of God, I see a woman buying the groceries for the family behind her in line, or the teacher from Sandy Hook Elementary school who hid her children in cabinets and then sacrificed herself to save them. I see my old friend Frankie singing and playing his 2-stringed guitar in a BART station just to bring others a bit of joy. I see the activity of that Agape love being carried out across the world.

The love that still exists in the world shows one thing to me, God's Not Dead.

Women and No Shave November: Stop Body Policing

While I am not a political feminist I simply have to stand up on my social feminist soapbox for a minute and talk about something that is close to my heart; and that is the oppressive body policing done by an outrageous amount of people in our society.

For those of you not aware, "No Shave November" is a month where participants (both male and female) elect not to shave for a variety of reasons. Some to raise awareness for prostate cancer, some simply because they do not want to shave, and others, mainly women, because they refuse to let oppressive beauty standards dictate how they live their lives.

Here is a very small fraction of the oppressive, body policing tweets from this month. I only uploaded the ones that I thought were the least offensive, but trust me when I say there are more that got really nasty.

Who do these people and the thousands of other body image fascists think they are? They have no right to dictate whether or not women have body hair or not. If you are a man, and you don't like women with body hair, then don't date one. It's simple. You don't need to go posting sexist Tweets or Facebook updates telling women what to do with their bodies. Most of the women who do not like beards or body hair on a man simply would not date a man with that type of hair, instead of posting Tweets calling the men with body/facial hair nasty or pressuring them to shave.

I'm especially disappointed by the amount of females that have posted on various sites calling the women who are electing not to shave nasty, saying they shouldn't be participating this month, or saying they aren't real women because of their choice not to shave (last time I checked, you're still a woman even if your legs and armpits are fuzzy). To the women saying these things: how dare you? You should appreciate the fact that you live in a country where women get to choose whether or not they want to shave their body hair, as opposed to trying to oppress your own gender.

I have seen one very brave man create "Full Shave November" to personally understand and raise awareness about what women have to go through every day of their lives because of oppressive beauty standards created by the men in our society. Don't believe me? Here is a picture of him showing off his shaved armpits.

He posted this picture as well as others on his Tumblr blog and in the post I am referring to he states:

"HOW DO YOU DO THIS????

I was in the shower shaving for like… 45 minutes, and I STILL had to forgo shaving one of my legs because I was concerned I was running late for lunch...

I also ruined my razor, because I didn't think to trim any of my hair first...

There’s so much of it. I had no idea I had that much hair on me."

Despite the fact that it was his first time shaving and the first time sucks even for women, he is pointing out a sobering reality. Just think ladies, how many hours and how much money have you spent shaving/waxing your body hair in your lifetime? And why do you shave in the first place? Because society tells you to or because you just don't like having body hair?

Personally, I am not participating in No Shave November, but all the men and women who do have my full support. I personally don't like having body hair, but I could not care less if people feel or behave the same way I do or not. This applies for all months of the year, not just November. Ladies and Gentlemen, life is too short to let other people make you conform to their fascist beauty standards. Don't let society dictate how you feel about yourself, what you see as beautiful, or pressure you into fitting into it's mold.

Your body is just that, YOUR BODY. It is not society's. You can shave or not shave because it is your body, and your choice.

Life Goes On.

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." - Robert Frost

I suck at saying goodbye. As we drove down the long stretch of highway from Redding to Sacramento, I realized that she's really gone. The sunset was beautiful tonight. After the sun fell behind the hills, the colors of the evening sky began to blend in their most complicated and beautiful way. I tried naming the colors I saw, and realized nothing from a Crayola box could suffice. I was awestruck. I could have stared at the perfect landscape just out my window for hours and it wouldn't have been enough. It didn't feel real to me, but her death did. Out the window on the other side of the car, the sky was much darker. It was a mix of deep blue, grey, and purple. The road curved, and suddenly we were driving into the darkness. The lovely sunset was being overtaken by the daunting night, and so was I. It was time to face reality. All the sadness, all the goodbyes, and all the I love yous hit me at the same. "I'm proud of you," he said. And he said he meant it. And that meant a lot to me. And then he said "Goodbye." Not "See you later," it was "Goodbye." It felt like a "I hope I can see you in the future because you're family but now that she's dead I probably won't get to see you so have a nice life."

I glanced at the Bible sitting beside me, dedicated 70 years ago to my deceased Great Uncle, whom I love dearly. I also looked at the picture next to me, my Great-Grandfather in the year 1906, he was 5 years old when the picture was taken. I never got to meet him, but he's part of the reason I'm alive. I realized how much I missed my deceased family, but then a thought hit me. They never really left. My family is the boxes of pictures and old keepsakes. My family is the blood that rushes through my veins. My family is the stories of the good times, and the bad. My family is the pictures of tombstones from all across the country. My family is here, even if I can't hold them and tell them I love them anymore. Even if I can't listen to the music of their laughter or gaze upon their similar faces. My family is too strong to be torn apart by something as meaningless as death. Love is stronger than that.

Tomorrow, the sun will rise. I will wake up, drink my coffee, and go on to my next adventure. Tomorrow is a new day. I will live tomorrow. My family will be with me tomorrow. They will always be with me, in the darkness and in the light.

Love: The Most Overused Word in the English Language

One of my favorite YouTube channels is called "Blimey Cow". I recently was watching one of their "Messy Monday" videos titled "'Like' vs. 'Love'" (watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Iv62bxFTW0&feature=bf_next&list=PL84299E25C73D08DE). In this video, Jordan comically illustrates his frustration with the overuse of the word "Love" in today's society.

He points out that, unlike other languages, the only word we have in the English language to describe love is... well... love. When he said that, it reminded me that in the Greek language, there are four different types of "love". They are:

1. Eros, which is sexual love/lust. (This is where we get the word "Erotic").
2. Storge, which is love between sisters and brothers, mother and child, ect. Family love.
3. Philia, which is love for your friends. (Remember the root "phil" from English class?)
4. Agape, which is the highest form of love there is. It is unconditional love for others in spite of their character flaws and weaknesses. This is the love that, as a Christian, I would say that God has for us (John 3:16), and the love that He desires for us to have for our fellow human. (Mark 12:31)

Jordan then challenges the viewer on why they use the same word to describe their feelings toward something as meaningless as a bar of soap as they would their family, or even God himself. "It just doesn't make any sense, does it!?" You're right, Jordan, it doesn't make ANY sense. He goes on to say "Love is a verb. It's something you actively do, not something you feel". And in my opinion, he's right.

Let me guess, you tell your mom you love her everyday, but when was the last time you did something nice for her? Even something as simple as getting her a fresh cup of coffee without her asking for it? 

Are you one of  those people who constantly posts on Facebook about how much you "love" the guy or gal you've been dating for 2 weeks, but then when someone new comes to town who you think is more attractive (*cough* EROS *cough*), you leave your significant other in pursuit of the new person?

Let's look at what the Bible says about love:

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

Ask yourself, did you truly love them? No, you didn't, because love is not self-seeking. When you truly love someone, you would lay down your life for them (John 15:13).

So the next time you're about to tell someone you love them when you are only a week into the relationship, or say you love the new soap at Bath & Body works, don't. You don't love soap, you like soap. You don't love your new partner, you're attracted to them.

And I know at least one of you is staring at the screen wanting to scream at me: "I love my new boyfriend! I really do!!!" Stop. Breathe. Think about the depth of your words for a second. Would you literally die for them? No, you probably wouldn't.

Try using "like" instead of love in everyday conversation, and I think you'll find that when you do say "I love you", it will have a lot more meaning than it did before.