This is My Story.

I didn't believe I had a story for a long time. When people talk about someone with a story about the change from God, it's usually about Paul. He went Saul to Paul, he persecuted Christians in horrid ways and then was blinded by God for a few days, was encountered by him, and then became a Christ follower. He wrote most of the new testament. His story is found in Acts 9:1-19.

Eventually, I learned I had a real story. And to say I don't have a story that matters is to say I don't matter.
So,

This is my story. 

I wasn't born in the Christian faith, because it's not something you're born into. My parents knew Jesus and I did grow up in the church, though. I loved it. I loved church, although I didn't always love getting up early on a Sunday morning. I went to church at least three times a week (bible study, youth group, and church, plus any additional church events), knew the Bible backwards and forwards, and could give you all kinds of Bible knowledge facts. I knew there were 66 books in the Bible. I knew the words to the songs sung in church.

And when I was 9 years old, almost 10, I knew there was something more. I didn't exactly know all about the whole Jesus thing--I knew the story, but the part about having a for real relationship with Him was a little confusing. But I knew that's what I needed. I remember the pastor asking me several times, as did my parents, if I was sure about this. I was so confused as to why they were asking, because they were the ones teaching me this. Eventually I understood--my parents and the pastor knew the reality of committing to Jesus. They knew it was a personal decision. They knew it wasn't how much knowledge you had or what your attendance chart looked like, and wanted to make sure it was me making the decision for legitimate reasons, not because I am blindly agreeing to what they say. Much later, I realized how much I appreciated them.

My decision at the age of 9 only made me more excited for church. I brought so many friends to church in middle school, it was almost ridiculous. I loved church and I loved learning about Jesus.

When I was 14, the church I had attended for the past decade began to fall apart. I was devastated and allowed that to destroy my faith. I was hurt by the church and was unwilling to forgive. I harbored hatred and anger for many, many years. The latter part of my sophomore year of high school, I began to engage in church again. There, people rallied around me and supported me and encouraged me to ask hard questions.

I realized that while my decision to follow Jesus was legitimate, I wasn't appropriately fostering or growing my faith. I was afraid to ask hard questions, I was afraid to be angry, I was afraid to be hurt, and I was afraid to question and doubt. I'm nothing like Paul, the guy mentioned earlier. I am like Thomas.

Thomas' story is found towards the end of the book of John. He is often referred to as "Thomas the Doubter" and people sometimes hate on him. The gist of the story is that after Jesus rose from the dead, Thomas was the dude who said, "Hold up, this doesn't make sense. Prove to me that you are Jesus, that you for real died, and that you actually rose from the dead". He was the guy who said, "I'm not sure, show me" rather than "Yeah, okay, I believe you without hard facts". What I love so much is that Jesus met him where he was at. Jesus showed Thomas what he asked and gave Thomas the evidence Thomas sought. Thomas wasn't rebuked for questioning Jesus. I really believe that Jesus welcome questions, welcomes doubts, and wants to meet us where we are at and provide answers. That's what happened with Thomas.

So sophomore and junior year of high school, I questioned, I struggled, I doubted, I grappled. But I did not to lead me astray from my faith, but with the genuine, earnestness of wanting to learn more. I refused to blindly follow, to just accept things on the surface. I wanted to be a for real, legit, hardcore follower of Jesus and what that really meant. This is when I really started to own my faith and make it for real mine. Where I seriously started to "get it".

A big part of Christianity is that "we are all sinners". AKA we all screw up. And while I knew this, I wasn't sure if I really believed it. Because seriously, I was a really good kid. Other than the fact that I hate mornings and wasn't good at waking up, I really didn't know how I was a "sinner". I didn't really lie, I always did my homework (so much so, my teachers told me to not do homework sometimes), I didn't party, I didn't do drugs or drink, I got along with almost everyone, etc. To the world, I learned that I wasn't a "sinner". Because on the outside, I do look good. It's the inside where I am a mess, and that's where my sin was revealed. I struggle with pride. I struggle with jealousy. I struggle with self worth. I struggle with vulnerability. I screw up way more often than I ever want to admit, and it's rarely on the outside. Most of it is on the inside. That makes it difficult for people to really hold me accountable and for me to fight. It's really easy to hide and that's one of the reasons why I continued this blog, to increase my vulnerability.

In Christ, I have been able to find my identity and worth in Yahweh, the God of Jacob. I know I am worthy and I know I matter. That revelation didn't come easy and something I value more than anything. Knowing my identity drives me, my passion, my desires, my dreams, my values, my choices.

There is another thing I am learning with Jesus, particularly throughout college. My heart has changed for the world. As told through this blog, as this is the seed that planted this blog. I have learned that God is bigger than America. And I need to love the world. Not just America. Not just the part of America I am in. But every place. Because God is so much bigger than America. He knows more than the English language. He is the God of the world and for me to say I love God means I need to love the world.

I also have had, and continue to have, questions. I am logical. I am rational. I think things through. Senior year of college I started to wrestle and doubt and struggle with new ideas and new questions. Questions I hadn't thought about before. And I ran.

I had started to lose some of my support network in regards to my faith, because I was so focused on my job in college. And I moved to a new state, where I had zero support network. I struggled. A lot. After a long while, I started to slowly share it with a few people. And then I had a massive head injury that lasted 9 months. And then I remembered I had questions. And I didn't know where to go for answers. But I knew I needed to do something, because the running can only work for so long. I re engaged in Church and found a home church. And I started to once again see the beauty and intimacy of God. The love and desire and yearning and passion he has for people. All people. I continued to be reminded that God loves us. Regardless of whatever mess we are. And I continued to ensure that I rationally understood what I believed. I started asking my questions and had raw conversations.

I've never had blind faith. But I have had muddled faith, times of confusion, times of running away, and faith that is shaky. And I've learned that that is okay. And as I continue to engage in those questions, continue to build a support network, continue to seek understanding, I don't get afraid of posts on social media. I don't get afraid of conversations related to God. I don't get afraid of other people's questions. I don't get afraid of my own questions. Because I can be sure in the steadfast love of Christ.

My story isn't about me, really. It's about God reaching out to me, pursuing me, not giving up on me. My story is similar to millions of others who have committed their life to Christ. The details are all different, but the shift, the purpose, the point is all the same. Weird analogy, but it's like how The Lion King is similar to Hamlet. The details are different, but the premise is the same. My hope is that when reading this, you maybe learn a little more about me, but you learn more about God. Because that's really what I've learned is the purpose of a testimony. 

Highlights

I'm working on writing out "my story". Re: my testimony. Here are the key points (more for my benefit, I like outlines):

1. My heart changed for the world.
--As told through this blog. God is bigger than America.

2. My sin was revealed.
--I screw up more often than I ever want to admit. And most of it is on the inside.

3. Hurt by the church...learning forgiveness

4. Rationally understood what I believed

5. Found my worth.

Cross of Christ

The symbol of Christianity is the cross and I have heard some people ask why.

The cross signifies death. Brutal oppression. Beatings. It was for the good for nothings. 

Why choose that as the symbol? That's not a symbol of hope. Or, doesn't seem like it. 

Christianity believes in three major things:

1. Jesus was born, fully God, fully human. 

2. Jesus died on the cross.

3. Jesus was resurrected.

If one (the birth part at least) and two are true, but not three, then it is silly to have the cross as a symbol, because the cross without the empty tomb is not helpful for humanity. 

If three is also true though, that's game changer,

The cross expresses God's heart towards our physical, emotional, relational, and spiritual needs.

Through Jesus, God gets us. He experienced a blended family, a mom questioning his mission, funerals, best friends turning their backs on him, etc. We focus so much on the God part that we forget the human part.

"The cross isn't just a reminder of the unique message of freely offered grace, but so much more than that: a symbol of the unimaginable cost that was required to purchase it" (Strobel: Case for Grace).

The cross is the symbol because of the humanity and humanness behind it. 

Amazing Grace

"This is Amazing Grace" -Phil Wickham

I'm just now starting to realize that Jesus didn't actually have to die on the cross. Growing up, it was part of the story. It was the next scene. Jesus died on the cross for our sins. That's just how it goes. 

I didn't realize (and now I realize, yet forget) that it didn't have to go that way. I kept forgetting that one of the amazing things about the God I believe in is that he always gives people a choice. 

He doesn't demand. There is a choice. 

I've been wrestling with my role as a Christ follower and what that looks like with choices. And I keep coming back to, we all have choices. That's what makes our choices real. That's what makes our decisions authentic. 

I also recently read a somewhat similar thought, but in regards to Joseph, rather than Jesus. (You can read it here!)

Back to the choice of the cross. You can see some of the wrestling from Jesus in the Gospels. When I say Jesus didn't have to die on the cross, I don't mean there was an alternative to the cross--there wasn't. But I mean he didn't have to say yes. 

And all that realization does is make me fall more in love with Him. And make me realize how much he loves loving us. And how much he desires us. And how much he is reaching out to humanity. And how much he desperately and excitedly and passionately pursues us. 

The cross needed to happen, but only if people were worth the cost. 

And Jesus said, heck yeah. 

Literally

When I was younger, I had some major confusion about some things with Jesus. There are two particular things I have been thinking about recently: perfection and head/heart relationship.

I thought that being perfect meant that everyone liked you. That was essentially my definition of perfect and how to be perfect was to be really well liked by everyone. I was so confused for years because I was told two conflicting things: that Jesus was perfect and a lot of people didn't like him.

That made zero sense to me. It had to be one or the other, it couldn't be both. It didn't fit in my definition of perfection. And no one ever really explained it to me. To be fair, I doubt I ever really asked....But I had some serious concerns and even more serious just straight up confusion.

The other thing I struggled with immensely was the phrase that goes something along the lines of "you need to feel it in your heart". You know, basically mean what you say. But again, I didn't understand it that way, it wasn't ever REALLY explained, and I probably never asked.

So here is what I did EVERY WEEK for years, I'm sure. But I really do remember this, and I will be so honest and it's okay to laugh at me. Because I was a cute kid, sooo....

When I was told we need to make sure we feel it in our heart or however it's worded.. I would literally try to sit up really straight and hoped gravity would work. I'm not kidding. I thought, well, my thoughts are in my head, I need them to get to my heart. My heart is lower than my head. I put my hand on my heart to see if I "felt anything".

I've always been quite literal. And those are secrets that I have not ever shared with anyone, so there you go.

I think these experiences (and others similar to these) have helped me immensely in a lot of ways--

1. I realize now that I try to actually explain things and I take great pains to (probably over) explain things.

2. I look for questions and anticipate what people are confused about. I'm doing crisis intervention training right now and I was told one of my strengths during the role play was that I was good at staying ahead of the questions--I could figure out where the conversation was going before it got there.

3. It reminds me that I was a kid. I was a real kid, as this fits right into cognitive development theories of kids being literal and concrete. And that's important for me to remember.

4. Being perfect has nothing to do with other people, because I can't control other people. I'm only responsible for what I can control, which is only myself. Perfection (in Jesus' case) was about him, not about how others perceived him. It was about his humility, grace, boldness, goodness, gentleness, kindness, graciousness, agape love, justice, mercifulness with everyone and in every situation. That's why we can say He was perfect.

I started thinking about that because tonight, I randomly thought about meeting Jesus at a donut shop. And then I was like....I wonder if He would cut his hair. I wonder if he's feet would be dirty.
And then I realized "Oh gosh, does this mean he isn't perfect if I see things wrong with him?!!?" (Dirty feet and long hair isn't my style). And then I realized the whole perfection thing. And my friends love to tease me about Santa (that's as much as I'm saying), which makes me think of the head/heart thing.

Literal secrets for you. 

Second Chance

When I think of the phrase "second chances", I think of the song by Stellar Kart:

And that's a great song and I love Stellar Kart, I was also recently introduce to another song called "Second Chance" by Rend Collective.

Oh your cross, it changes everything. 

I love the beauty of the cross and the beauty of our God. I love the beauty of grace.
And I love that the cross changed everything.
I love the redemption story. I love the Redeemer, our Lord, our God.

My word of the year has been relentless. And my phrase that I have been continuously reflecting on is "Jesus changed everything".

Countless second chances we've been given, at the cross.  

Are You Pregnant?

Let's just start this off with me answering with a "I'm not", before going on.

I had to ask my friend: "Are there other ways to get pregnant that I don't know about?!" (She actually had a really funny anecdote and the answer was yes.) (Another note--both of these are in joking format. Sort of).

So, here's a little bit more context:

Recently, I made the mistake of saying "I have something to tell you" to some individuals and more than a few of them immediately responded with, "ARE YOU PREGNANT?" or "YOU'RE PREGNANT!"

No. No, I am not. What?! No. Just, no.

When the boy and I broke up, someone asked me if it was really lonely in bed now. I was utterly confused, because I, having the dirty mind of an 8 year old (so, like...not at all) just said, "What's the correlation? I don't get it.." And they said, since you're not sleeping with anyone now, it must get lonely.

Another person asked me a similar question in reference to the break up, about how it has to really suck to not only losing a partner in any other sense of the word, but especially a sex partner.

Someone else asked if my bed felt empty.

People actually seemed to be more concerned about the fact that I was "no longer sleeping with someone" rather than anything regarding my heart/emotions/thoughts/feelings post breakup.. Not all people, but some.

And now, I'm totally single, not in any kind of relationship with any kind of man, and I'm still getting the question of whether or not I'm pregnant when I say "I have to tell you something". Granted, I shouldn't start things off that way, but when you have to break news to people, some variation of that is the typical lead in. And my news had nothing to do with sex or pregnancy.

If people ask you if you're pregnant, they've already assumed you've had sex. Unless there really is another way to get pregnant that I don't know about.

Sex and Pregnancy

So this is why I had to ask my friend if there were other ways to get pregnant that I didn't know about. Because despite what apparently a lot of people assumed (found out via post break up questions), I didn't sleep with the boy. Ever. He never slept over. We didn't have sex. So to answer all of those questions and to explain why I was so confused with the questions (by the third time I got a question, I was less confused and more annoyed): No, I don't get any more lonely in bed now than when I had a boyfriend. No, it's not weird waking up without the boy next to me. No, to any question asking me about anything related to me sleeping with him.

And not only with him, but any guy. Statistically, there are 11% of 25 year olds who haven't slept with anyone (I'm almost there). And get into a little bit older ages (which is slightly unfair data since fewer people are older and not married), about 3%. Most studies I see estimate no more than 5%, on average.

Because of those statistics, people just assume everyone is having sex, I guess. I don't know. I assume the opposite, but it's because again, I have the dirty mind of an 8 year old and I just don't understand, really. My friend told me about a time when her boyfriend had taken her to the doctor and the doctor asked if there was any chance if she was pregnant. She said, no. And the doctor said, "I thought that was your boyfriend". (There's more to the story, but the basic gist within context). And at that moment (okay, way before that moment, but still) I knew that this friend understood. (And she gave me two other stories that solidified it.)

I would probably guess that most of my friends who haven't had sex probably know the struggle. It's not just a struggle of not having sex (it's not always easy, even if we make it seem like it is). It's not just a struggle of feeling kind of left out sometimes. It's also a struggle of people not totally believing us.

Frustrations

I got to talk with my friend about some of the things we felt/thought when those questions were asked.
Confused, annoyed, mad, angry, hurt were just a few. For me, my first reaction was confusion. But my immediate reactions following were more synonyms of frustration.

I was frustrated that people thought I was having sex (with and without a boyfriend). I was frustrated that the Church wasn't different. I was frustrated that people didn't believe me when I said I hadn't had sex. I was frustrated that people didn't know I wasn't having sex. I was frustrated that people were shocked when I told them I hadn't slept with my boyfriend. I was frustrated that people assumed my relationship was a typical, millennial relationship. I was frustrated that a typical, millennial relationship is defined by having sex.

I was also frustrated that I didn't always have the courage to say I didn't sleep with him. I was frustrated that I didn't talk enough about my actions (or lack thereof) and the reasons for them. I was frustrated that I sometimes liked being thought of as a person who was having sex. I was frustrated that I just laughed along. I was frustrated that I didn't always say anything.

Really, I was frustrated with myself, with the Church, and with each person that asked any question with the underlying assumption that I was having sex. They never asked in a judgy way, just in a way of normalcy... And I wasn't necessarily frustrated in the angry way, more in the annoyed way.

I want my relationships with people, especially men, to be different. I want the Church's relationships to be different.

And I don't want a thought in the back of someone's mind be, "Is Ashley pregnant?" when I say that  I need to tell them something. Because if you made it to my list of people to tell, you should know me well enough to know that pregnancy isn't an option. And if you don't, that's on me.