I'm very certain I had a prophetic dream once (or at least certain as you can be about these things). It was shortly after I became a Christian. I remember waking up from it being able to recall each vivid detail-- the oppressive weight of water while I was submerged, the comfort of being carried, the feelings of betrayal and bewilderment followed by curiosity. It was of a wildly different species than any other dream I'd had. I could recall every sensation, every image, every moment.
A few days after I had it, I took it to Kelsey because I couldn't get it out of my head; it's like it was imprinted in my mind. I told her the whole thing and we discussed what we thought it might mean-- "The number 3 is significant, obviously-- And you said there were three pools of water? How were they different again?" There were too many options, too many interpretations, and eventually we shrugged and accepted that maybe we'd never know what it meant. Year later, I still remember that dream with vivid clarity. I still think about it sometimes, trying NOT to try to figure out what it meant. See, I like to know things, to understand things. I like correctly interpreting words and signs-- and with all my English-major training, I'm generally alright at doing that in books, movies, and stuff like that. Which is why it's very difficult for me to accept that I usually don't know what God's doing in my life. I like to think that I do, but I'm generally missing the larger picture while I focus on one tiny lesson. It's hard for me to deal with the truth that obedience doesn't require understanding. It's not a prerequisite. How many stories are there in the Bible where people acted without understanding God's will? Too many. I'm seeing this play out most tangibly in my devotional life right now. I want to understand what God is doing in my life more than I want to spend time with Him. So when I get out my Bible in the morning, i find myself distractedly trying to see my life in the pages rather than see the Lord. I want to understand what God's doing so that I can read the Bible. When in truth, I don't need a reason other than the fact that it's commanded. This takes a great deal of faith, but obedience definitely seems like a less-sexy version of faith compared to the people who move across countries and take dramatic risks. It's quiet. It's humble. It's everything I suck at, basically. Advent is coming up--the season of joyful expectation. I've been thinking about how I want to mark this liturgical season, and it seems like an apt time for me to practice joyful obedience, expecting that God will reveal himself at the appropriate time. Rachel Fruit and Labor
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Remember when I said I was done posting about singleness? Apparently I lied. I guess I have more to process because it's still difficult.
There's a lot about being single that's difficult. The Friday nights alone playing minecraft and sipping rum and coke, trying not to feel like a friendless loser because everyone in your friend group is having Date Night. Going stag to a wedding and ending up at the back table because all the couple crammed around one, and there's not even one space left for you. Holidays. But I think what I personally find the most difficult about being single is feeling like I'm nobody's priority. I'm not really upset that I'm home alone on a Friday night-- staying in and playing video games is my idea of a good time. I'm upset because this is the third weekend in a row I haven't been able to hang out with my friends because, whether I like it or not, their spouse/dating partner takes priority over me. I don't actually care about not having a date to the wedding, but it hurts that there is literally not a place at the table for me, because it's a couples-only table; they get priority seating because from a purely logistical standpoint, it's easier to organize seating for a large group of people when you do couples and families first. I get it. I do. I understand. I try (and usually fail) to gracefully accept this. I find being single difficult because I feel overlooked and forgotten. And obviously that sucks, because as people we want to be loved-- and to be fair, we were made to be Loved. What makes it even worse is that when singleness is acknowledged in the church, it's often to call upon on us to serve. Now, I like volunteering. I like serving. I think it's important to make those needs known and recruit help within the church. But nothing makes me feel so devalued as when I'm am entirely ignored until you need something from me. You're nobody's priority, but everybody still expects you to serve them because of your fabled unlimited time and resources. Nobody wants to invest in actually being in community with you, but they have the gall to come up and for service. It hurts, and makes me downright angry. "How dare you. Is that what I am to you? A convenient solution to your problems? Do you even remember my name? Don't you want to know me? Do you even care about me?" But I guess one of the blessings in singleness is feeling God's pain as He feels all those things, too. He felt them first. He feels them most. When I feel like grieving over my singleness-- not because of a desire for a romantic relationship, but out of pain from feeling forgotten and rejected-- I try (fruitlessly) to comprehend the magnitude that God must feel over all of us rejecting him. Grief, for the loss of all the people who are meant to love him but don't. Wrath, for the injustice of the way we wrongly deny him and then demand his service. Heartache, for the continual rejection each day we don't prioritize him. And so many more. Because how often do any of us really prioritize him? Everyone continually tries to tell me that singleness is a gift because we have more time and freedom and money. This has always left a sour taste in my mouth; they also always say marriage is a gift because you gain a greater understanding of God's love and devotion (also, sex. They always mention sex). Time and freedom are certainly benefits of singleness, but how can it not seem second-place to a deeper understanding of God's devotion? But singleness isn't second place in God's eyes. And maybe it's not, because the gift of singleness is sometimes lies in understanding God's love and devotion though his pain over us. I can't always see singleness as a gift the way marriage is seen as a gift. But this is something I can understand-- that by taking on more of the cloth of Christ, we become more like him. And just maybe, crying into my rum and coke can be part of God's work in that. Rachel Fruit and Labor I want to drive fast with the windows down, car-dancing with all my friends. Join me.
Rachel Fruit and Labor I went to a wedding last night and it was really beautiful. The bride and groom were stupid happy, and it was so wonderful to see how much they loved each other. But if I'm being real, the part of the wedding where God met me was through my table buddies.
I ended up at a table with several people I knew, but two took a special interest in me; they're IV people. I haven't really talked with any IV staff about anything since I was told I couldn't do it anymore. Probably one of the hardest parts about not doing staff anymore was the way I sort of got.... dropped by everyone. Like since I wasn't staff anymore, I wasn't part of the community and so they didn't have the time to spare to care for me. Which I understand on an intellectual level, but was still really hard to deal with. These two lovely people hadn't heard I wasn't on staff anymore, so I gave them a quick summary and was ready to move on. But they weren't-- which at first I found mildly irritating, but I soon grew thankful for. They did some things that gave me a great lesson on how to hear/help people. 1. Start from empathy. One of the first things this lovely woman did was come near to me and ask about grief. "I've definitely been in a similar situation, and I know how hard it is. You're grieving a lot of things. People didn't let me grieve. Have you been able to?" I assured her I had done enough grieving for several people, but I was very deeply touched. She empathized. Christians have this tendency to jump right into the "how to move onward and forward" part. She was acknowledging the hard emotions that need to be felt. "Not that you can stay there forever," she added at one point. "Obviously that's not good, and if you had stayed in that place until like, next year, that'd be a problem. But when shitty things happen you need room to process it." 2. Distinguish what's in their control and what isn't. "Those things weren't your fault," he said. "Those things just sort of made you a victim of circumstance." In any situation, there's usually distinct things that are in our control and things that are not. Sometimes when you're in the situation it's hard to tell the difference between the two-- either you blame everything else for going wrong, or you think it's all your fault. Neither of those are usually true, and it's helpful when someone else can distinguish the two. It shows you what's in your power to change, and what you have to let go. 3. Practical help to move forward. (Disclaimer: this is the part that Christians tend to jump to far too soon. Consider whether the person is here yet before pushing them to it. Learn to hear if they are ready). "So what are you doing next?" When I told him I didn't really know, and had only vague ideas about far-off goals, he immediately dove in. "Let's look into that, with where you are now. Let's see what your options are and what you can do." The important thing about pushing someone to move forward is that it is not you telling the other person to figure it out on their own. Is he going to hold my hand and walk me through everything? No. But too often Christians give empty spiritual-sounding platitudes and think we've done our part. Imagine you throw someone into a darkened labyrinth, but they don't know that; all they know is that it's dark. "Hey, you're in a maze and need to find your way out! The exit has 3 big stones near it, and when you get closer the wall has moss. But you have to do it in the dark and I can't come in" is significantly more helpful than "God will guide you! Bye!" God is woven into everything we do, but we can't forget that for now we are also physical beings and there is often practical help we can give, even if that help is just pointing in a direction. "I know someone you should talk to. She's got almost an identical story to you. Can I set the two of you up?" 4. Love them and have fun with them. I wish I lived near this woman because I would be best friends with her. After a very tearful discussion, she didn't treat me like a pitiful looking stuffed animal that used to be someone's favorite, but got left in the rain so now it's all muddy and could really use a run through the washing machine, but will probably never be as fluffy as it used to. She was a friend. We joked and made sassy remarks, and plotted how to leave the reception early (because apparently we are Old People). Don't stop living with them. Don't stop loving them well. Fun in community is incredibly healing, and often exactly what the person needs. Here are four ways I felt heard and seen at this wedding that I wasn’t actually invited to. Four ways that God spoke to me and gave me direction through two lovely individuals. These are things I want to think about when I try to help other people-- I thought you might like them, too. Rachel Fruit and Labor I promise I'm not dead. I know that I almost never go so long without writing, but a lot has happened. A lot is new. I think all of you who read this know that going on IV staff didn't work out for me. My greatest fear came true: I could not get funded. No matter how many things I tried, I simply could not get funded. Which sucked. It sucked a lot. There's little I find so crushing as saying "God, I'm terrified because you're calling me to this thing, and I'm afraid it's not going to work out. But I'm trusting you, and I'm doing it whole-heartedly. No contingency plan, I'm going all in to what you've called me to," and then to have that fear realized. It's hard when God calls you to go through what feels like a failure, because it feels like betrayal. And it's not, obviously, because if God was calling you to that failure all along then He can't have betrayed you. But it does feel like it. Anyway. So I got a job. A real grown-up job. I'm doing Quality Assurance for a mega company that makes healthcare software. I've been there three weeks now and I think it's going to be fun. I basically get to try and break software in order to find the bugs, and advocate for anything I think a customer would need or want. And I get to work in a Harry Potter Library themed building (I swear I'm not making this up, this is my job now). I've moved to Madison, and I'm living with a lovely friend I met at IVLI 2012. Out apartment is old but cute. Here are some pictures: (I just moved in this week so it's not quite finished)
It's very odd. A year ago God was calling me to ministry-- and I do still believe that is true. But now I'm in a different city doing a different job, living a very different life than I thought I would be. Everything is different. Everything is weird. I don't know what's going on. But that's been the case for probably about 80% of my life since I've been a Christian. I guess I thought that part would go away as I matured and grew. Apparently it doesn't, and that's okay. Rachel Fruit and Labor Well friends, my time as a walking stereotype is over. No longer am I an English degree-holder serving up coffee. I got a new job in Madison, and thus I retire the title "Barista."
To commemorate my time pouring espresso shots, here are a few things I learned working in a church cafe. 1. Christian or not, everyone is particular about their coffee. You'd think being located in the house of the LORD would tone down some of the roasted bean zealots, but you'd be wrong. 2. Nobody complains about prices. I suppose it would seem too rude to ask for cheaper food from a not-for-profit church cafe. Still, I know I wouldn't buy our paninis full price. 3. Most people are unusually kind to the barista. Do you know how many times I've been lavishly thanked for... giving them their order? Either their standards are very low, or these people are taking "giving thanks in all circumstances" a little too far. 4. But, it's very easy to condescend to the server. To everyone who orders food or coffee from me, I'm just a cafe girl. And apparently, that means everyone expects me to have little knowledge of... being an informed Christian??? I've had multiple people patronize me when it comes to talking basic theology. When I engage back with an intelligent question or comment, they are always surprised. I think maybe they spend too much time around only ministry people, and forget that non-ministry workers can be walking deeply with Christ, too. 5. Cooking is not that hard, but somehow very impressive. It almost makes me never want to pay to eat out because, excuse me, but I've made zuppa toscana better than this and I could have made 5x as much for the same price I just paid to get a measly portion! 6. For some people, exemplary service turns around their day. It sort of became a personal challenge to me, to anticipate someone's needs and deliver what they didn't even know they wanted. It was fun to watch their surprise and delight in someone taking a moment to cater solely to them. That's all for now, folks. I've got apartment closing things to do and the rest of all my belongings to sort. Rachel Fruit and Labor I've never been very good at time. I experience three times-- past, present, and future-- and these are never broken down into smaller units. If it happened in the past, then it's in the past and I can't be any more specific than that. I just literally cannot place it in the grander scheme of time. Ask anyone who's been friends with me ever. "Hey Kels, do you remember that book you were telling me about last week? Maybe the week before?" True story. But even though I'm not great at time, it was certainly different in college than it is now. In college, time moves very quickly. There's so much packed into every day, that it seems like everything couldn't possibly fit into just one Friday- but it does. You have so much control over your own time; you can do your homework whenever you schedule it, socialize when you want, or even combine the two. The only obligations you have are 1) a part time work schedule and 2) classes (but even then we choose whether to go to class or not). The largest block of time you measure in is semesters, which are mere months. Time is not like that after college. Time moves slower. Multiple years replace a single semester. And this is the reason I now hate this question "So, what's God teaching you right now?" In college there was always an easy answer to this question. When in doubt, cite last night's Bible study passage. In the midst of relationship drama, friend group troubles, and essay deadlines, who wasn't learning a million little lessons in every tiny moment? It's easy to learn new things when every moment contains a new thing, when your life is a big, constantly-in-flux scramble of hectic.
But if you ask me what God's teaching me now... um, sorry, but how should I know? I haven't learned it yet. You know what I do every day? I wake up. I go to work. I come home. I apply for jobs. I read. I go to sleep. Sometimes I even eat and/or shower. There is nothing new, there are no surprises. Time is constant, and therefore so much longer. The metaphorical seasons of my life don't line up with neat little semesters anymore, and neither do the lessons I'm learning. We don't tend to know what we've learned until, well, after we've learned it. It's after we overdraw on our bank account that we learn to budget. It's after the heartbreak that we learn how to better guard our hearts. It's always retrospection that allows us to say, "yes, I see what God was teaching me. I see how I've grown." We are never able to do this in the moment. My moments are longer now. But just because I can't answer your question, doesn't mean God isn't working in my life. Rachel Fruit and Labor A wonderful band called "The Brilliance" has a new album dropping on February 17th. But you can listen to the entire thing by streaming it here (it's legal so relax). They've got a mix of new songs, and new versions of old songs. I just need to highlight one new lyric added to the song "Does Your Heart Break?" When the man said, “You are choking me.” And he cried out, “I can not breathe.” Does your heart break? For those unfamiliar, this lyric is very clearly referencing Eric Garner, a man who was killed this past year on July 17th. He was put in a chokehold by police officers who suspected him of selling cigarettes. He repeated "I can't breathe" 11 times before dying. Despite the facts that :
(1) the use of chokeholds is not allowed by the NYPD (2) medical examiners ruled that he died as a result of a chokehold (3) He was not physically threatening the officers in any way so that the use of lethal force would be justified (4) The entire thing was caught on tape A grand jury decided not to indict. This was just yet another death, and yet another case of racism aborting justice. Much of the white-church has been silent on the struggles of our black brothers and sisters; I'm grateful to The Brilliance, for using their musical platform to recognize what happened. I've loved these artists for their musical ability. And now I can love them for their stark honesty. Rachel Fruit and Labor I really like this other church in my town. I still do. I think. But I'm definitely feeling a mixture of sadness, anger, indignation, and disappointment. With maybe a tiny zest of betrayal on top. Two weeks ago the pastor did an entire sermon on biblical masculinity. I really appreciated the way he approached the entire subject, and heard him present a new take on gender I hadn't heard before. It was very deep, and gave me a lot to think about. Last week I was out of town and missed the sermon on biblical femininity, so I listened to it online today. I can say this-- it mostly got better as things went on. Kind of. Maybe. It was a pretty wild ride, to be honest. I'm still processing all my emotions and thoughts on this sermon regarding biblical femininity. Here are some of the bigger ones:
Overall, it was still probably the best sermon I've ever heard in a church regarding women. Which is pretty sad, I think. Maybe that's what makes me even more despondent. Rachel Fruit and Labor I got a card from my manager at work. I need to share this with all of you. You'll love it: Oh, what a nice card What's that? He's praising me for something? Oh, that's right. He's praising me FOR MY ABILITY TO STAY POSITIVE. POSITIVE. I hope you have all enjoyed this humorous interlude as much as I have.
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