I heard a discussion recently on these new emojis that Apple has released that range the full spectrum of racial diversity… well probably not the full spectrum but the fullest you can probably get on a little emoji head. It was a discussion about how people are “supposed” to use these emjois, are we supposed to be the emoji, or is the emoji the person we are texting, or are we just referring to random people who are just sort of out there and therefore can be any race?
The conversation got really interesting as they continued to reach out to their white friends and ask this question – what emoji choice do you make? And what does that choice say about you?
I, for one, have always struggle with my racial identity. Well, almost always. Being bi-racial in a predominately white world has mostly caused questions in my world, from me and from others. There came a point where I started to resent the assumption of being white. I can’t fully explain what that means fully – it probably has something to do with losing my dad, and the idea that identifying as white is in some way forsaking him and his history.
But identifying fully as a Latina, that has it’s baggage too. It means that I’m shutting down the other half of my family – even though we don’t know our heritage as well on that side of my family. Add into this midst my internationally adopted goddaughter whom feels more a part of me than anyone I’m blood related to. I look at pictures of our family and I see a beautiful mosaic.
Represented in our little family are many cultures, many worlds. And it is so beautiful to me, to us. We cherish it with open arms and hearts. We don’t see different races when we look at each other, we just see family.
But outside in the “real world” – the story doesn’t feel as beautiful. I try to fill out my ethnic background on forms and I find myself asking those same questions. Please – just give me a bi-racial box. Give me a Multi-Ethnic option. And some forms have, to which I am so grateful to proudly check that box.
So when Apple gave us options for emojis, I admit – I was excited. I wanted something to represent my skin tone better. And I know that sounds weird. I know that sounds like I’m putting too much stock into those dumb little cartoons that I use to jazz up my texts… but in a world where I get asked “what are you?” Where people look to me to raise my minority flag but also feel free to mock me for liking tacos and salsa. Where I see my goddaughter mocked for the color of her skin at a young age. Where I hear her struggle through what it means to be Asian and to be proud of a culture she left at a young age.
In a world where race tensions are still entirely too present, whether purposely malicious or ignorantly neglectful, I sometimes just need a win. I’m not going to say it’s a win for all minorities. I wouldn’t dream to make an assumption for every person of color. But for me, a tiny little emoji that gets closer to my brown hair and darker skin, is a win.
This post’s title comes from a Damien Rice song, I discovered it while writing this post and it hit, it hit my heart so hard. I’m still processing it, but sometimes my struggle with my own racial identity feels like the tension in this song. I’ve had moments when I feel like I’m trying my hardest to help people see things through my eyes and it ends in pain, when I’ve been looking for Christ’s love in others but when the love of others has let me down. I’ve often confused it with Christ’s love letting me down. But I realize his love will never let me down. But as followers of him, our love lets others down all the time. We do it wrong. And I know that I’m called to love others through the tension – but it’s so hard at times.
But I have to keep trying. To love others through this racial reconciliation journey, and when it’s hard to love, I have to rely on Christ’s love for others through me. I pray his love can shine through me stronger than my own frustrations.
and the world spins madly on
This morning I had a meeting with my spiritual director. I made the comment that I felt like my life felt a little like that saying – “I can’t see the forest for the trees” and she responded with, “It seems like you can’t even see the trees, it’s like everything around you is a blur.”
I don’t think I could have agreed with her more. The last few weeks of life has gone at an insane pace. Our pastor came back from Maternity Leave, we said good-bye to our youth pastor, I moved into a new role, we had a local service trip, I’m gearing up for my ordination service and for our denomination’s big conference for high schoolers which I am on the planning team.
And in the midst of all of that, I’ve been making some incredible new friends out here, traveled home to celebrate The Goddaughter’s graduation, re-signed my apartment lease, planned a trip to Austin for the Launch Party of For the Love by Jen Hatmaker and joined the planning team for that party. (Seriously girl – it’s time to start saying no!)
The world around me has started to spin and my heart is calling out to me to slow down. My heart is saying that it’s time to take some inventory, to spend sweet moments with God and to just remember that I can’t do it all and that he loves me regardless of how much I get done and what status I have in any of my circles.
But my head is reminding me of deadlines, curriculums that need looking at, programs that need revisiting, background checks that need updates, e-mails that need answering and a growing list of to dos….
My head and my heart are competing. Both are right, both are important. But I need to pay a little more attention to my heart right now. I need to follow it’s prompting and get back to what I need to hear. Whispers of a God who loves me, encouragement that I can do it, refueling for the journey. I need to take the time for Him. Don’t get lost. Even though the world does spin madly on.
I've got a lump in my throat cause you're gonna sing the words wrong
I’ve been thinking a lot about church lately. And by that I mean more than usual – I am a pastor after all. It crosses my mind a lot.
But lately it seems that all of my conversations with friends, colleagues, members of the congregation all seem to wander to what the church is doing about this issue or that issue. Yes it circles around one main issue that is getting a lot of limelight lately in our denomination but we are also talking about other things.
Or more so we are talking about why we aren’t talking about these things. Why we are remaining silent on race, sexuality, drug/alcohol abuse, main stream media/culture, war, poverty, the middle east … and the list could go on and on.
The thing is though we don’t want to start the conversation because we don’t want to cause rifts in our communities. We are afraid because our views are deeply personal and if we find out that someone else’s view is differing from us then that will cause a break in our relationship.
Or… Even worse, we aren’t really interested in what the other person has to say at all. We just want our opinions to be heard and validated. We unintentionally bully the opposing side because of a preconceived notion of what it means to hold that other view point.
We’ve set ourselves up into camps. We all think there is a right or wrong opinion. A black or white answer that works for everyone in every situation within this topic. But it’s so not true. Everyone has a story behind what they think and why they think it. We have to be respectful of each other and each others stories.
The way that the Kingdom wins in these types of conversations is when we look for Christ in one another. When we listen to each others’ stories and try to understand the other person better. When our only agenda is to understand the person sitting across from us, rather than try to make them think what we think.
They aren’t singing the words wrong. They are just singing them differently. Our job is to try and see what God is doing in the midst of both of our songs.
our whispered words are louder than bombs
I have a very clear memory from a solitude retreat I took my second year of Seminary. It comes back to me frequently, like a still voice from the Spirit reminding me to keep myself in check.
I was taking a walk through the neighborhood by the church I was currently attending (that I now work at). I was walking past all of these cute houses with kids playing in the yard and I felt that feeling that most single girls of a certain age feel… I want that. I don’t want to be stuck here in Seminary. I want to be in my call. I want to know where I’ll be spending the rest of my life (or just the first chapter). I want to know who I will be spending it with. I want to have the wrap around porch where I can sit with my friends and watch our kids play. I don’t want this – I want that.
Then a line from the Shauna Niequist book I was reading at the time rang through my ears, “Don’t try to fast forward yourself into a future you haven’t yet earned.” (From Bittersweet).
I didn’t know then that that neighborhood would be one I would drive through several times a week once I received my first call. That neighborhood would be one I would take prayer walks in with our kids on our All Church Retreat. That neighborhood would be canvased by me, alongside our leadership team and staff.
That moment floods back to me a lot. When I see someone or some situation that I wish I had in my life, Shauna’s words continue to ring true in my ears. It reminds me that I still have a great life to live right here right now. All that stuff awaits me in the future – maybe, who knows? I know there are things in life that I want to have, that I want to experience. And I know that my God loves me and wants to give me the desires of my heart – in his way, in his timing.
I know someone who says that when we’re waiting it’s because God still has something left to teach us. The immature person in me wants to tell God I’ve learned enough – I’m ready for my hearts’ desires. But the mature person in me tells me that there are mountains of lessons to learn before I’m fully ready for that next step. I’m still in process, as hard as it is to admit – it’s true.
Jesus tells us not to worry in the Sermon on the Mount (See Matthew 6). He tells us to “Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, live righteously and he will give you everything you need. Don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”
Some days I need to repeat this to myself multiple times. Some days I live it out without reminders. And plenty of days fall in between the two extremes. I just continuously remind myself that in a world where I’m told my worth is determined by whether or not I have a ring on that finger and kids in tow, those messages are not from God. That is a future that I have not yet earned. For now, I will seek the Kingdom of God above all else, try my hardest to live righteously and trust in the fact that He will give me what I need, when I need it.
nobody loves me quite like you love me
A few posts ago I wrote about a writing contest that I entered over at Hello Giggles. It was a writing contest call “Tales from a Bestie” and I wrote a piece on my former Roomsmate and how we met. It felt good to right it, to reflect on our first weeks and months of friendship.
I was not, however, chosen as one of the finalists. Although I read the posts that were chosen and they were seriously good!
I did, however, get an e-mail back from them asking me to pitch some ideas for the website. They said they liked my voice and thought I had an interesting point of view. Which was cool to hear since I tend to think my point of view isn’t all that special. But maybe because I see it everyday.
I’ve been trying to put myself out there more, in the writing world. I’m trying new things and making myself put my ideas out there. But it’s hard, friends. It’s hard to look at the world around me and think so many thoughts but then to write them down in a way that others would be interested/challenged/whatever. But I want to keep trying, so we’ll see.
I have other writing news that I’ll be sharing in the next couple of days, but for now, here’s the piece I wrote on the Rooms, for your reading enjoyment.
Relationships are full of moments. Significant ones that change everything like a cannonball into the deep end and insignificant ones like a drop into an ocean. Most of them go unnoticed in the real world. There aren’t any orchestras following us around to swell and crash when something is happening that we should take notice of, like in the movies.
Imagine with me for a moment – picture a grad school orientation in a small room full of chairs and a podium, the walls lined with coffee, tea and assorted pastries. It’s late August in Chicago which means you could cut the humidity with a knife, every window in the room is open but it doesn’t help the stale summer air circulate. As I walk in, I instantly feel the social pressure of the situation. A room full of mostly twenty somethings all wearing name tags and mingling. Everyone is subtly eyeing everyone else – sizing each other up if we’re all being honest here. I look around and across the room I spot a girl my age but much more put together. She’s chatting with a group, laughing periodically and I feel a pull toward her. I immediately know that this girl and I are going to have a story. Either we are going to come out of this program as best friends or we are not going to get along. Later when it’s time to break into groups, I end up in her group, where I learn her name – Hilary.
The next day there is a breakfast for the whole school and the professors. I end up sitting with Hilary again and at the end of the introductions and announcements over eggs and coffee, I decide to through out an offer – “Wanna walk to get coffee before whatever’s next?”
“Sure, can we stop at my apartment first?” To which I respond “Sure.” And that was it. The moment we became friends. I’d later come to find out that Hilary hated coffee – everything about it. So her agreeing to go with me was a bit of an anomaly.
Fast forward two months, Hilary comes over and tells me we need to talk. We go into my room, close the door and she is grinning from ear to ear. We had been petitioning our campus housing to let her move into the third bedroom of my apartment. We had finally gotten a yes and we celebrated the moment we became roommates.
In a lot of ways, Hil and I could not be more different. She is a pastor’s kid who moved from the south to the west coast before coming to Chicago. I didn’t become a Christian until High School, moved from the east coast to Colorado before moving to Chicago. She is up to date on fashion and trends while always being perfectly accessorized and before we moved in together I couldn’t even paint my nails efficiently. She is a pop music queen and I have a tendency to be a bit more indie inspired. She loves movies with car chases and lots of action where I could watch chick flicks everyday and never get bored.
But at the same time, we always found common ground in the strangest places. We both knew all the words to every song on Robyn’s 1995 release Robyn is Here. We both loved to dance it out when stressed. Neither of us were morning people and need caffeine before we can even think about talking to each other. We’re both into craft beer and love to find pubs or neighborhood bars to frequent. She’s a planner and I’m a follower of plans. We just tend to fit together in the oddest of ways.
There was this one moment that seems to sum up our interactions – we were driving home from church in my car. As we listened to music and talked through what homework we needed to do that day I asked her to remind me to do something when we got home. She pulled out her phone and added a reminder to remind me. I laughed and said, “One of my favorite things about you is that you set reminders to help me remember stuff.” And she looked at me in disbelief and said, “That’s one of your favorite things about me?”
But the truth of the matter is that yes, in that moment I realized that she was the type of friend who went above and beyond to help her friends. This was just a small example of it. She was constantly helping me become a better person, a better friend, a better pastor. It was a moment when I realized just exactly how much I appreciated her in my life. That mundane moment that really didn’t mean a lot was the moment when I realized she was the best kind of friend, one who cares deeply about you – not because what you could do for her but because she loved you.
I’ve heard that it’s hard to live with your friends but once again, Hilary and I were an anomaly. Although I am positive we often got on each others nerves, we also had no qualms about just coming out and saying what was annoying us. It’s not that we didn’t fight, it’s that we fought out of a place of mutual respect and aimed for compromise. I remember a few tense conversations standing in our kitchen, each of us refusing to turn away until it was resolved.
One night in particular, I was in my room crying over some dumb guy. We had been at a party and I came home early to wallow. She stood in my doorway giving me that look that I knew meant she had something to say that I did not want to hear. When I asked her opinion she gave it to me and I was right. She essentially told me what I already knew – I was wasting my time on someone who could care less about me. It was within that quiet moment that I realized she wasn’t ever going to sugar coat something that I needed to hear. We didn’t need the sugar coating anymore – we were Besties – the fact that we loved each other unconditionally was all the coating we needed for the hard truths.
Our friendship has had hundreds of other moments. Good moments – dinners out, birthdays celebrated, new crushes discovered. Hard moments – hearing that she was moving away, new heartbreak, big life changes. And all the in-between moments – runs to the store, car singing, texting about the latest bit of celebrity news. Each of the moments are treasured. She is one of the best people in my life and regardless of the fact that life has taken her to the west coast and kept me in the midwest, we continue to be the anomaly in each others’ lives. She is one of the only people who can call me on my crap and keep me laughing while she does it. She’s a beautiful friend and I hope we get a million more moments together.
my earth is somebody's ceiling
I had a friend ask me the other night what the ratio of men to women would be in my ordination class. I thought that it would probably be about 70% men. We then went around the table and talked about the various ratios of men to women in each field represented at the table. Architecture, Marketing, Accounting, Computer Sciences, Ministry.
Some talked about the absence of women in their fields when they began schooling. It was eye opening for me, the youngster at the table, to think of a time when women didn’t even number among graduates in some fields.
You see, I look at this 70-30% within my total ordination class and I still think, that’s pretty good. I know if I only thought through brand new ordinands, that would be a much more equal number but we are also talking about those transferring their credentials from another denomination. Generations before us when women being ordained was much less common.
I’m thankful for the denomination I serve in because of their affirmation of women in leadership – all levels of leadership – in the church. But there are still churches in our midst that wouldn’t dream of hiring a female pastor, or have a female Chairperson, or even allow a female to read the Gospel in service. Even when I struggle to find my voice in a still male dominated denomination, as I struggle to see myself reflected in our own leadership and at our own events, I think of other traditions that are far more conservative.
I met a woman recently who was called to ministry. I could see it in her presence, but she is part of a tradition that has been determined in their decision on women in ministry. She spoke of the pain of being told she couldn’t serve both verbally and through the actions of the church. That the gifts that she felt the Spirit had given her would go unused in a lot of ways. But she was faithful to her tradition. She had grown up in this tradition and wasn’t willing to give up on it because of this one discrepancy. One that I would see as a deal break but that she is willing to suffer for her faithfulness.
Her story blows my mind. I lament at the heartbreak she feels but I also applaud her courage to not run but to stand firm. Not causing a riot but slowly and patiently allowing God to work through her in this church.
With all the gender equality work that has been done in our country and with so much left to do, I applaud women who have worked hard to have rights in the workplace. I applaud women who haven’t been afraid to be the “token” or the minority. And I applaud women who are still fighting. As much as I think there is still a glass ceiling, even in my own world, I realize that the earth I stand on is someone else’s glass ceiling too.
before I put you in those boxes
Pastoral Identity. We spend so much time talking about it in Seminary. So much time thinking about it. We talk about how hard it is to nail down, how hard it is to believe in yourself, how hard it is to listen to that small voice of God saying you are called and gifted – especially in the face of every day life and ministry.
Then you get into your first call. People start referring to you as their Pastor. You fill out your taxes as a self employed member of the clergy. You get your ministry license. Later you get your ordination. Your denomination recognizes you or your congregation if you are a non-denominational pastor. You start to put Rev. in front of your name – or not. Everything point to the fact that you are the pastor. Your identity should be rock solid right?
You are Pastor.
But then you’re out in the “real world” one day and you think about the work that you do in comparison to those sitting around you at the coffee shop. Or someone asks you what you do and then responds in one of those many hurtful or confusing ways…
“You’re a what?”
“You don’t look like a Pastor.”
“But you’re so young.”
“But you’re not wearing a collar – you don’t dress like a pastor.”
“Can women even be Pastors?”
“You must mean you work with children. Or do you do women’s ministry?”
The thing about being a pastor is that it permeates every single space of your life. It makes a lot of life decisions for you. The way you act, the things you do, or don’t do. I can’t really think of another profession that has that much power over your life.
Because the thing with Pastoral Identity, is that it isn’t your average profession. It’s a calling on your life from God. It’s different. It’s in the Other category. But our brains can’t fully handle it. They can’t fully comprehend what it looks like when there isn’t anything to compare it to. Just like I look at people in other professions and think “I could never do that…” I shouldn’t be surprised when they look at mine and think the same thing. Right?
So what does it mean to struggle with Pastoral Identity? To have something so contextualized to your specific call but also your general call. Because I believe that I was created in a way, gifted in a way that prompted me to be called by God to be a pastor. He has equipped me and shaped me to be a pastor. Simultaneously, I have been called by the church I serve to be a specific type of pastor – to serve a specific congregation, in a specific town, during a specific time.
There are things that I believe that God has called me to be about that effect my position and vice versa. So how do I remain faithful to both at one time? Pastoral Identity means we are constantly asking a series of questions about ourselves and our world – What does it mean to be a pastor here? What does it mean to be single and a pastor? What does it mean to be female and a pastor? What does it mean to be Latina and a pastor? What does it mean to be a pastor?
How do we figure it all out? Through community and BY THE GRACE OF GOD. We interact with the Spirit and we try our hardest to decipher what He is leading us to. And we attempt to walk the walk.
The thing is – I look at other around me in the coffee shop and I think to myself, “I could never do that.” Because I believe in my call. I believe that I was created for this and I now that I wholeheartedly love it.
Oh come oh come Emmanuel
“We aren’t just waiting on God – we’re waiting with God.”
– Louie Giglio on Advent
Earlier this fall I preached on the characteristic of Kindness and within my sermon I set out a challenge to for our congregation to be Agents of Kindness. I have been on the receiving end of mountains of Kindness throughout my life. And I mean true kindness – the acts that are above and beyond being polite to your fellow human. In my sermon I talked about how I see the verse from the Psalms that says “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.” One aspect, in my opinion, of the truth in this verse is when the people of God bestow kindness, mercy and goodness on one another.
Whenever I open my social media or the news recently, I feel like I see a lack of this verse. I see the brokenness of our systems, the brokenness of people, the brokenness of relationship, the brokenness of sin. I’ve stayed quiet on social media about these things because I don’t think a productive conversation is happening in the comment section of my facebook page. Or that if I tweet something out to oblivion about the topic that I will really be changing any hearts or minds.
Some may say I’m running from the issue. Some may say I’m not doing my due diligence as both a pastor and a minority. Some may say that I’m exerting privilege because I am not dealing with it. And while some of those things might have an ounce of truth in them, It does not mean I am not wrestling with them. I am struggling to find truth, to find grace, to find calm within the storm.
Then I hear this quote from Louie Giglio this morning. He talks about the Advent season, the wait for the coming of the King. And I realize that we are not simply waiting on God to reconcile the races, we are waiting with Him. He is here alongside us. His spirit is alive in us and in those around us. And he makes good on his promises of mercy and goodness. Whether through His acts or through the acts of his people.
it's all coming back to me now
When I was in high school, there were things that my youth pastor did that I thought all youth pastors did. They were little quirky things that were a regular part of our youth group meetings, missions trips and services. It wasn’t until I was in ministry myself and sharing ideas with other pastors that I realized that was specific to my youth pastor and my youth group. The other thing I realized was that usually they were things that when you look back at it – it’s completely ridiculous.
Example – On one mission trip I was on, at the end of every day we gathered together as a group to recap the day. During which we would do “Rotten Thermos” and something like “Mad Props” – basically it was a chance to nominate someone who had done something great (Mad Props) or funny/not so great (Rotten Thermos). After we went around and shared for each of these, our youth pastor would decide on a winner for each and there was usually a prize/penalty for that person. But instead of just choosing who won, she had a “person” in her finger that would tell her the winner. We all thought it was the funniest thing ever – or at least I did.
The other day I was remembering this and thinking to myself – I wonder what the kids in my ministry are going to look back and laugh about when they are grown up?
Then it hit me.
On our retreat last year for 3rd-5th graders I started something called “Pastor Alicia Points.” They were ways of encouraging them to be kind and helpful to one another. They got a point if I caught them doing something kind or helping each other (or me). And then magically, by the end of the weekend, they were all tied! There was no winner or loser, just a group of kids who had all spent the weekend being nice to one another.
Now, almost a year later, this has spilled over into the classroom. When we are reviewing the story from last week or talking through various bible stories, I offer up extra “points” to the kids who can remember small details from the story. I also give out random “points” for when they are being quiet during story time or doing well at a task.
The thing about these points is that they don’t really exist. It’s not like we have a chart in the room that has each child’s name and how many points they’ve gotten. It’s a completely valueless reward system. They’ve even stopped asking how many points they have, or for prizes that go along with the points.
It’s mind boggling to me really, one of those things that I was using as a means to an end – the end being well behaved and easier to manage kids during a sugar high filled retreat. And it has become a staple in our interactions. Last week I asked a question in our Kids’ Club and someone responded with, “Do I get extra points if I can remember his name?”
This all just hit me in the last week. I wonder at what point in their growing up are they going to look back and think that I was crazy? I mean – I don’t think my youth pastor was crazy. It’s just a fond memory of her. Here’s hoping it’s a fond memory for these kids and that they don’t feel ripped off.
Also if you are reading this and go to our church – please don’t tell them! Let’s just call it my own “Elf on the Shelf.”
If I could tell her something I would tell her this
there’s only two mistakes that I have made
it’s running from the people who could love me best
and trying to fix a world that I can’t change
I was driving in my car the other night. The darkness all around me felt all consuming. I pulled into the driveway and walked briskly to the door, without knocking I walked in. I was greeted by delicious smells, warm hugs and reassuring smiles. The rest of the night was spent with new friends, bonded together by our call to ministry. We ate and laughed and celebrated the newest call in our group.
At the end of the night I got back into my cold car and this song picked up where I left it off a few hours earlier. It’s a song by the new band of my all time favorite songwriter (bonus points if you know who that is without googling it). In this part of the song the singer is talking about seeing a woman he sees driving next to him with tears in her eyes. He mentally offers this piece of advice to her.
I don’t entirely know why this lyric tugs at my heart strings but it does. I think it’s the complexity of running away from people who can love you best and wanting to fix the broken world around us. As a pastor, sometimes it feels like my job is to fix the broken world all around me. To fix the pain around me.
But the real key is to remember that I can’t fix it. I’m not the key. It’s Christ. I need to remember that always, the mistake is in trying to fix the world around us. The correct response is to open our hands up and let Christ in.