Beginning a Blog (after the fact)

It occurs to me that while I have a cute tagline to my blog title, I've never really taken the time to explain what "The Cross and the Sword" really means, and why I think it's such a big deal. To be honest, it's an idea that has been evolving for a few years now and I was afraid, at first, that it would be a passing thing and I would end up changing it a few times. If you've been with me for a while, you know that the tagline itself has changed a bit over time; somehow, though, the spirit of the cross and the sword have stayed with me, so here is an exploration of their roots and what (I hope) I can do with these themes in my life.

The metaphor of a cross and a sword began for me when I was at Miracle Mountain Ranch, 17 years old and newly graduated from high school. It is a long time since I looked like the stereotypical homeschooler, but not so far under my socially adapted exterior is a deeply committed nerd: a devoted Lord of the Rings fan (and fan-fiction/RP writer, she said with a nod to The Plaza), constant reader of 18th and 19th century literature, and a self-fashioned wanderer in search of chivalry, honesty and honor. That year at the Ranch I was the model apprentice, but there were a few people with whom I felt I could be myself. During training demonstrations in the barn we would sit in the loft and I would use graph paper to sketch fantastical coats of arms and brands, mustering all that I knew of heraldry to lend significance to the images and colors used in my creations.

One creation in particular stayed with me, because of its beauty and simplicity. The vertical line was too long to be a cross, the horizontal too plain to be a sword. I wrapped a casual line of color around it, from its arm to the point, then back to the other arm. I attempted to add plumes, to put it on a shield, to incorporate it into the Lion Rampant or some more glorious emblem, to use it as the "l" in my name, but in the end I found that none of the embellishments improved it and I resolved to leave it alone. Besides, the summer was approaching and I was far too busy wrangling my landscaping volunteers to be worried with developing my personal coat of arms any further.

After the Ranch, real life hit abruptly. For lack of a better idea, I found myself enrolled at a little school called Geneva College in Beaver Falls - for all that it was 12 miles from home, I had never heard of the city or the school before my mother suggested them - and I was "undeclared," which was code for: I want to know everything and I have commitment issues. Because of my interests in high school, I took a serious look at History and Creative Writing as majors, with Student Ministry thrown in there as a potential interest because I really wanted to impress a certain person from MMR. The college setting was a shock to my system, but in the honors program I found a few people with whom I felt safe enough to mention my love of imagery, icons and latin mottos. I sometimes wonder if they thought me crazy.

The battle to choose a major (and escape the incessant coddling of those in charge of Undeclared L&T "Focus Group") was intense, but brief; in the end, Terry Thomas's storytelling won me over and in the space of eight weeks I had declared for Student Ministry. I loved every one of my major classes, but I couldn't shake the desire to know everything, especially about the way people work. I have always been a people-watcher, and this tendency was incubated through the time I spent eating alone in the cafeteria and hanging out with Debbie in the Student Min Office.

You didn't know you had signed up for the story of my life, did you?

Contrary to what some people believe, student ministry isn't (all) about campfire songs and ice-breaker games. In addition to "ministry" classes concerned with the history and development of ministry, special studies in specific ministry models and situations, and three unique practicum experiences, we take quite a few Bible classes, along with theology, philosophy, and psychology. On top of this, I was at a liberal arts college with traditional "core" requirements: humanities, social sciences, political science, etc. I will never regret the time or money spent on these, ever. However, as I began to connect the dots of my learning and reflect on my experience as a homeschooler, an apprentice, and now as a college student, some difficulties became apparent.

When I say "difficulties," please know that I mean "things that are profoundly distressing"; so profoundly distressing that I don't really know how to properly express them most of the time; not in person, and not in print. At its heart is the question of Truth; in my Bible classes I was taught that Jesus said "the Truth shall set you free" (John 8), but in my experience Truth has been most associated with right and wrong. Beyond that, right and wrong often demarcate "us" and "them," "in" and "out," "valuable" and "valueless"; these in turn help "us," who are "in" and "valuable," to determine what should be cared about and who should be ignored.

We come to "know" what sin is and we believe it is our duty to preach against it; we come to "know"that sin is an abomination to God and we make it our duty to be appalled by it; we come to "know" that we have been redeemed... and we decide to cast the unredeemed world into hell's fire prematurely. Who made me the judge? What pride is it that rejoices in my personal salvation and then refuses to give that grace to others? I am not saying this of all Christians, or even all American Christians, but the pervasiveness of divisive, ignorant, and ungracious behavior within the church is well documented by recent research (i.e. You Lost Me and UnChristian). This should not surprise us, given the doctrine of the Fall.

The Bible calls the Word of God a "double-edged sword" (Heb 4:12), and I think we can agree that the simplest statements have been as destructive as a broadsword when used in the wrong place or time, or with the wrong attitude. Never in opposition, but certainly in contrast, Jesus tells us that knowing the Truth sets us free - and a few short chapter later he announces exactly what he means: Jesus said to him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the father except through me" (John 14:6).

What is the truth that we are commanded to know? What did the Word of God (John 1:1) do with ultimate power? He loved. He sacrificed. He redeemed.

Redemption cost all of him. How can I do less?

In the last few years, this has been the story of my life. I believe in truth. I believe that there are such things as right and wrong. I believe that it is vitally important to preach against sin, to teach what is right, to avoid what is wrong. However, my studies and experiences almost daily remind me that I was redeemed in spite of my sin, and it is not for me to withhold that redemption from others; in fact, it is my responsibility to share redemption with the world.

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges thoughts and attitudes of the heart.
Hebrews 4:12

Tempting as it is, I cannot run into the world waving a bright sword and pretending that all things said in truth are just. This kind of power cannot be wielded by a child like me, unless its every move is constrained also by the love of Christ, the love that willingly approached the cross. And so, once in a while I practice drawing my childish talisman, a reminder to me that God has been weaving his plans into the fabric of my life since the beginning and will continue doing so until the end. I approach life with a cross and a sword... and every day I learn more of who I am between the two.

Who am I voting for?

Since I went ahead and said that it's okay to ask other people who they are voting for, I have been encouraged to put forth my own two cents. That's the problem with asking questions, isn't it? When I answer you may discover that I am more ignorant and unlikeable than you originally thought. So I'll start you off easy: tomorrow I will not vote for Mitt Romney; I will also not vote for Barack Obama.

Now that you've judged, if you're still with me, here are some of my reasons.

In the interest of fairness and honesty, I am conservative and unlikely to vote for Barack Obama. I've heard a lot of interesting arguments for the President, but it takes a lot more than hope for change to bring me around to that way of thinking (primarily the Keynesian way of thinking). So, the question for me has become, do I vote for a "conservative" candidate who is electable, but in whom I may not necessarily have any confidence? To be completely honest, I came close to choosing not to vote this year, because neither of my "options" seem optimal.

But wait. Why is it that I have only two choices? As Americans we expect - sometimes demand - more options than that when we're shopping for milk and bread; what happened to our enthusiasm for the democratic process? No, don't answer that, I'm sure to be depressed. What my complaint really comes down to is the fact that I don't like having only two parties because they are so polarized that other voices are rarely heard, and maybe you agree that it's just not healthy. Sure, there are a lot of crazies out there that have been weeded out by the parties... but I'm sure you can agree that quite a few lunatics have managed to slip through in the past.

My father isn't thrilled with my current decision-making process. You probably won't be either. But tomorrow I'm not necessarily casting a vote for the president, I am casting a vote for the process: I am voting libertarian. Not because I think he can win, or even because I agree with all things libertarian, but because I want more options. I want honest discussions. I want the opportunity of a voice that is more than a straight party vote.

As I write, I realize that this seems ridiculous. The presidency is such an important thing - why would I use that vote to make a statement? Quite simply, because I don't think there is any other way for me to make a statement. And before you tell me it's impossible... according to Gary Johnson, if 5% of America made this choice, the third party would have equal access to the ballot and to federal funding. Think about that.

So many other things I would like to say, but I need to leave it now and look for a Higher Ed article. Happy Voting.

Who are you voting for? Some conversational advice

I will add to my previous comments about political conversations that this way of talking and thinking is very hard. I wrote that post on a happy afternoon after a long conversation with people whose thought processes are similar to my own, although their conclusions differ wildly. I am quite aware that this is not always the case, and that there are people who make these conversations painful no matter how hard you try. I name no names.

I don't want to seem naive on this point; I interact with enough people every day, even on a small campus, that I know how difficult it is to have hard conversations graciously when the other person seems dead set against that very thing. Even when they are on board with your approach, basic cultural and vocabulary differences sometimes make meaningful conversation practically impossible. So here are a few quick tips on talking with people who disagree with you on politics - or any other sensitive topic:

1. Remember humanity
I do mean that you should remember that you are human and they are human, and for that very reason you will both be wrong about something. However, I also mean that everyone should remember that our conversations have implications for the rest of humanity, for the great questions of life and death, poverty and wealth. If you are in a position to talk about these things, you are probably in a position to do something about them. It's really not about you at all.

2. Benefit of the doubt
I tend to think that I am better at this than your average grad student - why do we immediately assume that because someone believes x, they will also affirm r, e and m? Just because someone thinks differently does not mean that they have sold their souls or that they would affirm the agenda of a totalitarian regime. As you can see, these other letters simply do not follow, except in the word extreme.* 

3. Practice
This may seem callous of me, but at some point conversations have to come down to personal integrity. You're probably not going to convince "the other guy," whoever they are, that you are right and their entire cognitive framework is skewed, unless you have unwittingly stumbled on a great work of the Holy Spirit. Which is possible. In most cases, however, you can talk until you're blue in the face only to discover that they weren't listening to you at all, but instead assuming that you affirm r, e and m as well as x. So do this instead of asphyxiating: get in the habit of communicating what you want to say clearly, concisely, and respectfully. Even if that person never gets it, perhaps the practice you have in this conversation will help you be more graceful and persuasive in your next encounter with disagreement.

I hope to soon write a response to my own question: who am I voting for? Hopefully it will be done before election day, but as I said... if an election is the end of the conversation, then we're doing it wrong.

*see what I did there? 

Who are you voting for?

Election Season is coming down to the wire, and I hear that tensions over it are running high. On the small college campus of a Christian school, however, it is easy to be insulated from the outside world and the concerns of the nation. For some students, this begins (or perpetuates) a spirit of apathy; between school, clubs, sports and complaining about the food, there is plenty here to occupy young minds. When someone asks our generation to care, don't we normally ask, what difference does our caring make anyway? "It feels like a lesser-of-two-evils decision," and "voting third party is voting for [insert candidate] anyway" are more thoughtful, but express the same sentiment.

A smaller group of students choose to care - intensely. Much like their parents before them, these students know where they stand, who they should vote for, and often what the Bible says about it. The Geneva College Republicans have meetings and t-shirts and an informational table once in a while. There is a quieter, but no less dedicated, group of Democrats furthering their cause on campus. It would be unfair to say that their devotion does no good, but the polarization of their views often lends itself to intimidation rather than honest conversation.

Honest conversation is something that our campus desperately needs, but sometimes the election conversation is ended before it begins because of our fatalistic - or pugilistic - attitudes. This election season, however, I have a new perspective to offer you; new to me, although I can hope that it is not new to you.

Although it sometimes seems that Christians have more to learn about suspending judgment than the rest of the world, there IS something unique about having these conversations at a Christian school, or even more specifically, at Geneva. To summarize the Reformed perspective, we understand the Bible to be God's story which tells us of the good creation of all things, the brokenness of all things, the redemption of all things, and the hope (promise!) of restoration for all things. We, as Christians, are part of the redemption: who we are and what we do, after we have encountered Christ, is inexorably linked to God's love for his creation. It is our duty to represent God well and work toward that final restoration (Romans 8:18-30).

Thinking of the world in this way, therefore, leads me to believe that the real question in our conversations is not, "what do you think about [insert party or candidate]?" It is, "Who and what do you care about?" It is, "How does the current political climate, or a particular election or candidate, impact that thing or those people that you care about?" In the student ministry office we have been drawing attention to the election as often as we can. We frequently disagree - and we know when the conversation starts that we will disagree - but that doesn't stop us from talking about it. None of us questions the others' salvation when we discover that they are registered Democrat, or that they might support a pro-choice candidate, or that they are okay with rich people remaining rich. The discussion is about more than a "position" that can be summarized in one sentence on a political poll. I find it impossible to dismiss the input of a friend when I know that their position, like mine, is driven by a deep love for the poor and the oppressed; our political disagreement grows out of that love, but does not change it.

I find hope in having conversations about politics that end with hope rather than anger, and in having conversations that recognize that one election - or even all elections of all time - will neither fix nor damn the world. Life is bigger than that, and God is certainly bigger than that. In the end, whether there is a Republican, Democrat, or cartoon character in the White House, the things we care about will not change, the people we love will have no less need. Political discussions are important, laws are important, deciding how to vote and discovering the issues is important... but never forget that they are not the most important things.

The conversations that start because of politics cannot end with an election. If we really care about these things, there is no "win" or "lose" for us, only more or less difficult work for us to do as we move forward, with hope, to the work that God has given us:

He has told you, O man, what is good,
     and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
     and to walk humbly with your God? 

                     Micah 6:8 

Post Post Office Ramblings, aka "The Milkshake Made Me Do It"

Two full weeks and one day later, I turned in my badge and quit the postal service. I promptly purchased a celebratory milkshake at Sheetz along with a few Reese's cups, and for that I apologize to you, my voluntary audience. Judge me gently for what follows - there is no plan, and I'm on a sugar high like you've never seen.

Before this summer when I thought of the USPS, I don't know what came to mind. Definitely the cranky lady who delivers our mail - it's not our fault that Zelienople denied our plea to be part of their city - and a lot of bored-looking clerks sitting behind counters. Maybe the mailman from Christy, he always made me smile...

"Beautiful, ain't it! Just been told us by the gov-ment in Washington. Now looky here, I figure that if rain or snow, nor none of those things are meant to stay us couriers, then we shorely can't have no gal-woman stayin' us."

Nothing I've ever seen prepared me for the "Logistics and Distribution Center." I know that shows my age and inexperience, because my father isn't at all surprised when I describe the machines we work with. Maybe some of you would be surprised, too, if you walked into that rush and clatter. Semi trailers docking, unloading, loading, and departing at more than 60 doors are just the beginning - five sorting machines, and an army of people just like us either feeding machines or sorting packages manually. I've gained an appreciation and healthy respect for conveyor belts, one that grows every time I finish a shift.

So my world has been made a little bigger, in the most basic sense, by this little brush with industry. Did you know that it costs less to ship almost anything through the Post Office than any of the other shipping companies? True story. I've learned a lot of other things, too...

For example, I always thought that when Quentin Tarantino put language in his films, he was being hyperbolic. People don't actually cuss that much, right? WRONG. They really, really do. They swear when they're upset, when they want you to do something differently, when they're frustrated, tired, stressed, or injured.

They also swear when they're happy, in the middle of normal conversations, when they're joking, indifferent, or have nothing better to do. It's ridiculous.

Then there's unions. I've watched North and South and I'm pretty well-read in Pittsburgh's history - I have half an idea of why unions exist and, even, why they're important. I'm grateful that union labor regulations require the post office to give us 15 minute breaks every two hours and a half-hour lunch (even if it is off the clock). What I don't understand is... well, everything else about them. And how casual employees survive as long as some of them do - we do roughly twice the work at half the pay, with no hope of improving our position and desperate not to be fired.

Of course, you also have to be careful, because there are two ways to yourself kicked out - not working enough, or working too hard. The best advice that I should have followed earlier in my casual employee career was "Sometimes working smart means working dumb." There's no way we're a threat to union jobs, but if a regular decides they don't like you they will make your life hell.

Oh the things I could say... but I'm coming off that high and realizing how pointless this post is. So what's the deal? What's the moral of this story?

First, never assume you know what you're getting into. When in doubt, don't ask a supervisor, ask another casual so you can look dumb together. Never volunteer for extra hours, because if they don't keep you today, they'll keep you tomorrow. Don't pull the mask off the Lone Ranger, and never, never, eat off of the break room table.

LGBT: Is it really our job?

I just got a news alert from the Washington Post online, a publication that I was encouraged to begin reading as a part of a political science requirement during college. This most recent alert was a link to an article: "Obama orders U.S. diplomats to increase efforts to fight LGBT discrimination abroad." The article doesn't provide much commentary except to say that President Obama is strengthening his argument that he "has done more to end the ostracism experienced by the LGBT community, at home and abroad, than his predecessors."


I get that President Obama wants support in the next election, and I believe that violence against any person because of differences in belief or behavior is wrong. However, I have to ask, why is it our country's job, or our ambassadors' job, to take on this issue in other countries? Or, if we're going to talk about changing other countries' justice systems ("combat the criminalization"), why must we specify that those helped belong to the LGBT community? Is there some principle that gives us the right to interfere on this community's behalf instead of any other marginalized community?


In the interest of full disclosure, I admit that would probably be considered politically conservative, although I tend toward the libertarian viewpoint - our government has too many fingers in too many pies, and it really doesn't seem to be fixing much. If this is true in our own country, where the struggle with racial violence and extreme economic need is far from over, how much do we really believe we can - or should - do in other countries? And based on the American experience with government policies enforced through bureaucracy, why was this memo "immediately celebrated by gay and lesbian leaders" as if words on a paper (or email) are enough to begin real change?


It seems to me that although President Obama's memo may indicate a genuine desire to help oppressed and marginalized people "at home and abroad," it also reveals his assumption that the American people can be distracted. By a memo. Is this serious? Why is a memo to international ambassadors enough to be called a "political news alert"? Probably because reporting on the ABSOLUTE SILENCE surrounding so many other issues wouldn't be sensationalist enough for our news media. Maybe we should make it so. Make a noise for the problems that aren't trendy enough to make it on the evening news.


But that's a whole new set of soap-boxes. The questions I have are these: Are we convinced that it is our job to change the culture of other countries, and if so, why would we choose this one group instead of so many others? Can the American people really not see that words put on a page by a politician always have a double meaning? There is so much more that is always left unsaid.


Of all of the things that we could do, is this really our job?