Adulting

Today, I was almost reduced to tears [it really doesn’t take much. My record is a dog food commercial] because I tried to be an adult and it didn’t work. 

There was a lost dog wandering around our compound which followed me home while I was walking my neighbour’s dog, so I decided to do the grown up thing and call the council, seeing as it was friendly but didn’t have a tag. The friendly man on the phone named Timothy informed me that someone would be around to pick him up within half an hour.

 I waited in the cold and the dark for an hour before finally giving up once the dog started to get super friendly with another dog- I have my limits, and today I reached them while sitting on the curb watching the driveway because I had to watch anything other than that dog right then. 

I went inside, had a hot shower and fretted about that dog. I hadn’t gotten a phone call, no one had come to the door and eventually, I decided to sit down and watch funny youtube videos- after all, I had been mature enough for the day. 

THREE HOURS LATER, a man knocks on the door. He has driven from over an hour away, in the cold and the dark, to pick up this dog. It not having a collar, and us having a canine-phobic canine, I had left it where it seemed happiest. I wanted to bring it into the house [and force poor Enzo outside], but it would not follow me and I wasn’t going to get in the middle of it’s new found love affair, so I walked away. And now this man had turned up and I had nothing to show for his travels. What was worse was that he’d called three times to check we had it before coming out, and my phone had been on silent in the living room. 

So I present to you this situation. 

I was kind of proud of myself for trying to do the right thing. I went above and beyond to do the right thing, for about an hour. And then, somewhere along the line, I lost that thread of grown-up-ness and I got in trouble with a tired man who thought I could have done more. And I also got lectured by my parents about having my phone on hand. 

So I did what any adult does, and I went to my room and sulked. 
I don’t know when I became an adult. 

Oh sure, there’s the legal adulthood, of drinking and voting, but those are two things no one really wants to do so they make an age where at least one of them is compulsory. 

On the other hand, there are all the subtle nuances that are expected of adults. When it’s unacceptable to dress however you feel is probably the first sign I noticed. When I actually started trying with make up and “my sense of style”. But also just the way you speak to people changes. You make an email signature that says “regards”, and your email isn’t “christianawesomeness” it’s “patty.ayres”. Or you start having conversations with people who casually swear and it’s no longer a big thing. Plus, you have no one to dob to. I don’t know when I thought I was wise enough to make an official call to the council, and I don’t know when it became a big deal I don’t answer phone calls, and I don’t know when it became so that I have to take responsibility for when I do something wrong, although I guess you always have to face the consequences for inconveniencing someone else. And I don’t know what happened to that darn dog. 

Trying to find a job has been a big eye opener for me. Figuring out the split in my wardrobe between “smart casual” and “every day” is the most boring thing I have ever done- I now own a plain navy blue shirt just because I realised that nothing I have was boring enough for a job interview. My last job fell into my lap because of a family friend. This new one matters.

No one ever really said, you’ve got to grow up now. The worst part is, people always used to tell me I’m mature for my age. Now I’m worried I just had a head start and everyone’s catching up, or even passing me by. 

You know the last time I had my phone off silent? It went off during that job interview, the one with the navy blue shirt. 

Adulthood is a series of not winning, no “participation awards” and high expectations. It’s everybody watching you and fewer people watching out for you. It’s scary and big and as simple as not picking up your phone so you lose a dog and a man yells at you while you’re in your pyjamas. I’m sure there are some perks to it. I’m just too young to have found them. 

Maybe adulting is just sleeping through your alarm but still making it to class. 

Maybe it’s as simple as staying up too late but discovering concealer.

Maybe it’s picking up the damn phone. 
  

Trusting God

Everyone has stories of times when they trusted someone and were let down.

A few spring to mind for me, from someone literally just letting me fall during a trust exercise, or twice in my life when boys have pulled the chairs out from underneath me as I was about to sit down. 

However, one really takes centre stage. I was doing the high wires at a fitness camp- where you’ve got a harness, and your objective is to shimmy along these wires two or more metres off the ground- for the really brave, there are places where you have to just take leaps of faith to get to the next place of safety. However, you’re wearing these harnesses so that if you fall or want to stop, the person spotting you can let you down. I watched my partner with the vigilance of an eagle. When I looked down at her, she was chatting with someone else, and typically, the shock of betrayal caused me to fall. So, in the most awkward way possible, I dangled there like a flailing fish until I managed to catch her attention. 

No wonder people have trust issues. 

Two weeks ago today, I quit my job. I wish I could say I’d thought about it, and had the dignity of a speech and strutting out with my head held high. However, unfortunately that was not the case. There was yelling, and crying, and my brain sort of melted so that I went outside to finish the shredding before grabbing my cactus and waddling home in my high heels. [I had to sneak in the next day to get my tea and leave the key on the desk.] To be fair, I had always dreamed of quitting. I just always thought I’d have something to move on to, and I’d have my speech ready before I went in, not at 3 am the next morning. 

Then, the next day, my Dad was attending a meeting for the church’s kids holiday club and, running with my adrenaline, I decided that day that I would do kids club with absolutely no physical or mental preparation or planning. 

So that’s how I ended up doing kids club two days after quitting my job [and after telling everyone for six months there was absolutely no possible way I could help out because I’d be working.] [I got an award at the end for “Best Life Choices”.]

And, the day after kids club ended, I packed my bags and headed off to a week of leading on a high school camp. 

I can’t explain to you what I was thinking, because the easiest summary is that I wasn’t. I was trying to think of how to write a post-camp blog post yesterday, and my head was just spinning from two weeks of not sticking to my usual strict regimen. My hair is frizzy because I didn’t have time to wash it properly, and my face is breaking out because of what, stress? Lack of sleep? An unusual amount of physical exercise for someone who used to sit at a desk for nine hours a day? 

And I realised the only thing that is still true after two weeks, and maybe six months of falling down a rabbit hole of insanity, is that God is good. 

In the past six months, I have had my first major break up, transitioned into a new church, started uni, finished up with my old Sunday School, started a new one, and quit my job. But while my head has been spinning, “on Christ my solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”

With no planning, I expected last week to be hard and disorganised. But I was surrounded by a team of people who trusted and loved God and worked to include but not overwhelm me. This week, I expected to be awful because the last high school camp I went on I was completely out of my depth. But once again, I was surrounded by a team of people who worked endlessly to pull their weight and make sure I was okay, plus I was blessed with an amazing group of girls and co leader. 

And for those two weeks, every time I thought about getting a job, a sense of panic began to well up inside of me, but I have been reminded time and time again- even when we are skeptical, God will never let us down. It’s just not in his nature. 

So, when none of my girls seemed to respond to the talks, I decided God has a plan for them, and I’m just not watching it play out yet. When I got half a dozen rejections for jobs I’d applied for, I figured I would just keep praying. And when I woke up each day at six thirty in the morning and it was dark, and freezing, and my eyes kept gluing shut during prayer in the leaders meetings, I reminded myself that this was a chance to prepare to make camp the quality God had in mind for it to be. 

On the last night of camp, we had a time for people to tell their testimonies. The amount of kids who are struggling with situations at home, at school and even struggling with demons in their own heads was heart breaking. And yet, in amongst it all, there was this incredible sense of hope. Because, as Christians, we know that even when we have no idea what is going on, and everything seems like it is just falling apart, God has got us and he knows what he has in store. It is for our good, and not to hurt us. 

I was reminded during one of the talks of a verse where Jesus says God is going to prune us- to non gardeners, it seems odd to cut off what seemed to be fruitful and beautiful branches, to leave the tree smaller and bleeding sap. But to those who know what they are doing, they know those trees are only going to produce more fruit, even if it takes a while. 

I have decided, in the end, that I’m not going to look for a job for the next two weeks of my uni holidays. When I go back to uni, I only have a little while before I’m on practical placement, so it makes sense logically, but also I started to think that maybe the reason I haven’t found a job is because instead of rushing to find one, and panicking about the future, maybe I just need to stop and rest for a while. I have worked full time during every holiday I’ve had since the beginning of last year. My longest actual “do-nothing, have-fun” holiday has been three days. 

I want to enjoy life instead of worry about the future. 

I want to spend time with the people I love instead of listening to the fear and the panic that has been fuelling me for a while now. 

I want to trust God. 
  

Trusting God

Everyone has stories of times when they trusted someone and were let down.

A few spring to mind for me, from someone literally just letting me fall during a trust exercise, or twice in my life when boys have pulled the chairs out from underneath me as I was about to sit down. 

However, one really takes centre stage. I was doing the high wires at a fitness camp- where you’ve got a harness, and your objective is to shimmy along these wires two or more metres off the ground- for the really brave, there are places where you have to just take leaps of faith to get to the next place of safety. However, you’re wearing these harnesses so that if you fall or want to stop, the person spotting you can let you down. I watched my partner with the vigilance of an eagle. When I looked down at her, she was chatting with someone else, and typically, the shock of betrayal caused me to fall. So, in the most awkward way possible, I dangled there like a flailing fish until I managed to catch her attention. 

No wonder people have trust issues. 

Two weeks ago today, I quit my job. I wish I could say I’d thought about it, and had the dignity of a speech and strutting out with my head held high. However, unfortunately that was not the case. There was yelling, and crying, and my brain sort of melted so that I went outside to finish the shredding before grabbing my cactus and waddling home in my high heels. [I had to sneak in the next day to get my tea and leave the key on the desk.] To be fair, I had always dreamed of quitting. I just always thought I’d have something to move on to, and I’d have my speech ready before I went in, not at 3 am the next morning. 

Then, the next day, my Dad was attending a meeting for the church’s kids holiday club and, running with my adrenaline, I decided that day that I would do kids club with absolutely no physical or mental preparation or planning. 

So that’s how I ended up doing kids club two days after quitting my job [and after telling everyone for six months there was absolutely no possible way I could help out because I’d be working.] [I got an award at the end for “Best Life Choices”.]

And, the day after kids club ended, I packed my bags and headed off to a week of leading on a high school camp. 

I can’t explain to you what I was thinking, because the easiest summary is that I wasn’t. I was trying to think of how to write a post-camp blog post yesterday, and my head was just spinning from two weeks of not sticking to my usual strict regimen. My hair is frizzy because I didn’t have time to wash it properly, and my face is breaking out because of what, stress? Lack of sleep? An unusual amount of physical exercise for someone who used to sit at a desk for nine hours a day? 

And I realised the only thing that is still true after two weeks, and maybe six months of falling down a rabbit hole of insanity, is that God is good. 

In the past six months, I have had my first major break up, transitioned into a new church, started uni, finished up with my old Sunday School, started a new one, and quit my job. But while my head has been spinning, “on Christ my solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”

With no planning, I expected last week to be hard and disorganised. But I was surrounded by a team of people who trusted and loved God and worked to include but not overwhelm me. This week, I expected to be awful because the last high school camp I went on I was completely out of my depth. But once again, I was surrounded by a team of people who worked endlessly to pull their weight and make sure I was okay, plus I was blessed with an amazing group of girls and co leader. 

And for those two weeks, every time I thought about getting a job, a sense of panic began to well up inside of me, but I have been reminded time and time again- even when we are skeptical, God will never let us down. It’s just not in his nature. 

So, when none of my girls seemed to respond to the talks, I decided God has a plan for them, and I’m just not watching it play out yet. When I got half a dozen rejections for jobs I’d applied for, I figured I would just keep praying. And when I woke up each day at six thirty in the morning and it was dark, and freezing, and my eyes kept gluing shut during prayer in the leaders meetings, I reminded myself that this was a chance to prepare to make camp the quality God had in mind for it to be. 

On the last night of camp, we had a time for people to tell their testimonies. The amount of kids who are struggling with situations at home, at school and even struggling with demons in their own heads was heart breaking. And yet, in amongst it all, there was this incredible sense of hope. Because, as Christians, we know that even when we have no idea what is going on, and everything seems like it is just falling apart, God has got us and he knows what he has in store. It is for our good, and not to hurt us. 

I was reminded during one of the talks of a verse where Jesus says God is going to prune us- to non gardeners, it seems odd to cut off what seemed to be fruitful and beautiful branches, to leave the tree smaller and bleeding sap. But to those who know what they are doing, they know those trees are only going to produce more fruit, even if it takes a while. 

I have decided, in the end, that I’m not going to look for a job for the next two weeks of my uni holidays. When I go back to uni, I only have a little while before I’m on practical placement, so it makes sense logically, but also I started to think that maybe the reason I haven’t found a job is because instead of rushing to find one, and panicking about the future, maybe I just need to stop and rest for a while. I have worked full time during every holiday I’ve had since the beginning of last year. My longest actual “do-nothing, have-fun” holiday has been three days. 

I want to enjoy life instead of worry about the future. 

I want to spend time with the people I love instead of listening to the fear and the panic that has been fuelling me for a while now. 

I want to trust God. 

Trusting God

Everyone has stories of times when they trusted someone and were let down.

A few spring to mind for me, from someone literally just letting me fall during a trust exercise, or twice in my life when boys have pulled the chairs out from underneath me as I was about to sit down. However, one really takes centre stage. I was doing the high wires at a fitness camp- where you’ve got a harness, and your objective is to shimmy along these wires two or more metres off the ground- for the really brave, there are places where you have to just take leaps of faith to get to the next place of safety. However, you’re wearing these harnesses so that if you fall or want to stop, the person spotting you can let you down. I watched my partner with the vigilance of an eagle. When I looked down at her, she was chatting with someone else, and typically, the shock of betrayal caused me to fall. So, in the most awkward way possible, I dangled there like a flailing fish until I managed to catch her attention. 
No wonder people have trust issues. 
Two weeks ago today, I quit my job. I wish I could say I’d thought about it, and had the dignity of a speech and strutting out with my head held high. However, unfortunately that was not the case. There was yelling, and crying, and my brain sort of melted so that I went outside to finish the shredding before grabbing my cactus and waddling home in my high heels. [I had to sneak in the next day to get my tea and leave the key on the desk.] To be fair, I had always dreamed of quitting. I just always thought I’d have something to move on to, and I’d have my speech ready before I went in, not at 3 am the next morning. Then, the next day, my Dad was attending a meeting for the church’s kids holiday club and, running with my adrenaline, I decided that day that I would do kids club with absolutely no physical or mental preparation or planning. 
So that’s how I ended up doing kids club two days after quitting my job [and after telling everyone for six months there was absolutely no possible way I could help out because I’d be working.] [I got an award at the end for “Best Life Choices”.]
And, the day after kids club ended, I packed my bags and headed off to a week of leading on a high school camp. 
I can’t explain to you what I was thinking, because the easiest summary is that I wasn’t. I was trying to think of how to write a post-camp blog post yesterday, and my head was just spinning from two weeks of not sticking to my usual strict regimen. My hair is frizzy because I didn’t have time to wash it properly, and my face is breaking out because of what, stress? Lack of sleep? An unusual amount of physical exercise for someone who used to sit at a desk for nine hours a day? 

And I realised the only thing that is still true after two weeks, and maybe six months of falling down a rabbit hole of insanity, is that God is good. 
In the past six months, I have had my first major break up, transitioned into a new church, started uni, finished up with my old Sunday School, started a new one, and quit my job. But while my head has been spinning, “on Christ my solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”
With no planning, I expected last week to be hard and disorganised. But I was surrounded by a team of people who trusted and loved God and worked to include but not overwhelm me. This week, I expected to be awful because the last high school camp I went on I was completely out of my depth. But once again, I was surrounded by a team of people who worked endlessly to pull their weight and make sure I was okay, plus I was blessed with an amazing group of girls and co leader. 

And for those two weeks, every time I thought about getting a job, a sense of panic began to well up inside of me, but I have been reminded time and time again- even when we are skeptical, God will never let us down. It’s just not in his nature. 
So, when none of my girls seemed to respond to the talks, I decided God has a plan for them, and I’m just not watching it play out yet. When I got half a dozen rejections for jobs I’d applied for, I figured I would just keep praying. And when I woke up each day at six thirty in the morning and it was dark, and freezing, and my eyes kept gluing shut during prayer in the leaders meetings, I reminded myself that this was a chance to prepare to make camp the quality God had in mind for it to be. 
On the last night of camp, we had a time for people to tell their testimonies. The amount of kids who are struggling with situations at home, at school and even struggling with demons in their own heads was heart breaking. And yet, in amongst it all, there was this incredible sense of hope. Because, as Christians, we know that even when we have no idea what is going on, and everything seems like it is just falling apart, God has got us and he knows what he has in store. It is for our good, and not to hurt us. 

I was reminded during one of the talks of a verse where Jesus says God is going to prune us- to non gardeners, it seems odd to cut off what seemed to be fruitful and beautiful branches, to leave the tree smaller and bleeding sap. But to those who know what they are doing, they know those trees are only going to produce more fruit, even if it takes a while. 
I have decided, in the end, that I’m not going to look for a job for the next two weeks of my uni holidays. When I go back to uni, I only have a little while before I’m on practical placement, so it makes sense logically, but also I started to think that maybe the reason I haven’t found a job is because instead of rushing to find one, and panicking about the future, maybe I just need to stop and rest for a while. I have worked full time during every holiday I’ve had since the beginning of last year. My longest actual “do-nothing, have-fun” holiday has been three days. 

I want to enjoy life instead of worry about the future. 

I want to spend time with the people I love instead of listening to the fear and the panic that has been fuelling me for a while now. 

I want to trust God. 

What if?

I feel like the world is trying to live in a paradox.

One where everybody wants to be loved for who they are, but only love certain parts of themselves. One where people are hurt when they are not accepted, but do not accept others. One where we are all striving for something- we may not be sure what it is, but we’ll know when we get there.

There seems to be a lack of satisfaction within my generation. On social media, we make fun of ourselves for how self deprecating we are, posting about our insatiable desire for validation in an attempt to gain some “likes”. The irony of it is not lost on me. Perhaps this resounds throughout history, but the sound of it is just getting louder.

That we would present ourselves to society and expect everyone to accept us does not seem possible. Surely, in a world full of unique individuals, it would stand to reason that you cannot expect 100% of the population to agree on anything, including [but by no means limited to] your fashion statement, sexuality or religious beliefs. Furthermore, this seems like such an impossibility to me because we are bound by a tendency to not even completely accept ourselves. Take, for instance, in dating. One partner would have it that they are loved completely and wholly, mistakes and quirks included. That when they are irritated, it is for a reason and that is understood and absorbed by their significant other. When they indulge in bad habits, it is taken with a pinch of salt as it’s just “who they are”. And yet, there are things about us that, no matter how much we try, we cannot love. Memories that lurk, regrets woven into our personality, a temptation to be what we are tired of fighting. And yet, when we are rejected, even be it by one person in a sea of admirers, we take it to heart, and moan that no one truly understands.

And what about tolerance?

That what I say is the truth and what you have to say is a combination of your upbringing, background and probably some misunderstanding. Deep down, it makes me feel better to think you’re a little bit foolish for thinking in such a way. And of course we can’t discuss or explore our differences on the off chance someone will say something even remotely challenging, because that wouldn’t be… tolerating me. That might hurt. That might take some time and energy to understand. And I would rather not, thank you.

What about this sense that the world is not right? That we may never be able to make it right, what with all the violence and pain and hungry and global warming, for heaven’s sake, on top of all that. And we just don’t know how to fix it, but we know we have to so we’d better buy recycled toilet paper and give a dollar to the Salvo’s man.

I will here suggest something that will seem impossible.

Just as impossible as being accepted.

Just as impossible as everyone being tolerating.

Just as impossible as saving the world.

That there has been an answer all along.

What if there was someone who knew all of your flaws before you’d even really met them, and loved you completely? Loved you enough that, despite knowing everything you are ashamed of and afraid of, they died for you? Someone to fulfil your greatest desire of knowing that all the pieces of you weren’t to be displayed or hidden, but were puzzle pieces that form a beautiful picture.

What if there was an ultimate truth? Some people fight over what it may be, some people argue it doesn’t exist. But what if it did? And it was all mapped out, by someone who knew what they were doing? And it sort of just… felt right? A list of directions, so to speak, that you’d always been trying to follow, to a point, all laid out for you. A list of directions you could point others to. You always knew eggs, sugar and milk went together but now you’ve found a precise recipe.

And, what if there was a point?. A way to fix everything? And someone who was willing to do it, save the world? To make things right and beautiful again?

Maybe there is.

I believe there is.

I believe it’s Christ who loves you, Christianity which directs you, and God who is going to save the world.

And if you disagree with me, that’s fine. Just tolerate my opinions.

The Easy Swaps

I don’t often do reviews- indeed, this part of my blog is the least attended to. However, today I address my secret dream of being a beauty vlogger and speak out about one of my passions- the environment. 
I stopped fooling myself it was easy to just not buy anything ever a while ago. Like most females, my skin is constantly too oily or too dry, and I have the impulse to look pretty on certain occasions. Like every one else, my sneakers wear through. So, here is a post on the “easy swaps” I’ve made this or last year, on a journey of taking better care of the planet. 
Why, you ask? Because, as consumers, we have power in our pockets. There is a power in what we support, or rather in which brands we support which practice good behaviours. So, when you engage brain and a little bit of research before wallet, good things come out of it. Standards go up for other companies, and prices go down. Furthermore, everything on this list is made in Australia as well as not being tested on animals and every other standard I could test it against. 
 Let’s get into it. 

EVERYONE

Etiko sneakers.

The only brand with an A rating on the ‘Ethical Rating Website’, these guys caught my attention. They sell sneakers and clothes similar to Converse, but give you an entire speil at the bottom of every page as to how they are different. Organic cotton, fair trading certificates and environmentally friendly rubber, all for the same price. Mine took a little while to break in, but now they’re pretty confortable. I’m just waiting for someone to call them knock-offs so I can give them the run-down. 

  

Lucas’ Papaw Ointment
Everyone knows this. I just realised it was a great swap for my assortment of lip balms, and also works on everything else. Made in Australia, pure fermented fruit and not tested on anyone or anything. Beware of phonies who do add chemicals to take the price down a dollar or two. 

  
“The Horse” Leather Watches

I figure a few people might disagree with my definition of ethical at this point, but hold up a second. There are plenty of bad quality watches out there with synthetic bands. I would much rather support the environment with a long-lasting watch, which I don’t constantly have to change the batteries of, than fill land-fill with my cheap attempts at “trying to help”. Furthermore, these guys are situated in North Sydney and are super nice [a couple of my mates went to check out their warehouse last year]. 

  

ARGUABLY AIMED AT FEMALES 

ASAP Creams [but especially the night one]

I don’t have time to apply moisturiser in the morning. So, I like one I can put on at night that keeps me covered for the day. These guys make their stuff in Australia, don’t test on animals, the stuff smells amazing. However… it is pretty pricey. There’s an Australian run company called “Adore Beauty” who do amazing things [free shipping, promos, run by two women, give you a free Tim Tam with every order], which is where I got a free sample of this stuff from, and I actually think I will purchase it again. However, I can understand why one would shirk it. [They do have their own website, but it’s way too intimidating and doesn’t come with Tim Tam.]

Organic Care Products

I had never regularly used conditioner until last year. Truthfully, it was an ad for fabric softener that alerted me to the fact it’s there so your hair isn’t constantly frizzy and all over the place, which I had never known. Anyway, I was already buying soap and shampoo from these guys, but their conditioner is such a happy thing to use- it feels good, smells good and the bottle is aesthetically pleasing. The inside goodness is all natural, vegan, grey-water safe and uses sustainable palm oil [because boy-cotting doesn’t work as well as finding a solution to a problem]. The outside [bottle] is recyclable and already 100% recycled. Australian made and owned, and about $3.50 at Coles. 

  
Goodness Products

These are from New Zealand- I’m sorry to have let down that front. However, they deserve an honorable mention because they are so good. The once a week scrub has not let me down for smelling good and getting gunk out of my skin. The daily moisturiser is okay, but as I said I don’t wear day moisturiser often due to time. The under-eye cream is pretty good, especially for its price compared to other eye-creams, and I am excited to try their night cream. It’s good stuff, very well priced, easy to get [you can get a try-box off Adore Beauty for $25], all natural and not tested on animals. 

  
DEFINITELY FOR FEMALES

Giftbox

I had heard about this sort of stuff going on in America, but I’m happy to hear it’s now in Australia too. Buy a box of tampons, give a box of tampons. Organic, cotton, giving to charity- make a bad time of the month slightly better. 

The Christian Feminist

Do you believe that women should be equal to men?

If you said yes, you’re a feminist. 

[Sorry if you were getting ready to fight me, it’s actually quite a simple principle.]

Feminism isn’t like a meringue- with precise measurements, and needing a lot of whipping into the perfect white shape. It’s more like being given the order of a “cake”. You can add or take away based on your own wants and passions, but there are a few foundational things without which it would not be counted as cake. 

As soon as you begin to believe that women are not considered or treated as equals globally, you begin to understand feminism. That women’s clothes and gendered products are more expensive despite the fact they get paid less, that displays of emotion are seen as feminine [and not masculine], that there are clear gender stereotypes, women can’t work in some societies, pornography and the sex slave trade are booming, and issues of domestic violence, sexual abuse, and harassment are deeply woven into every society. Once you start to think about all of this, it’s actually rather easy to consider the feminist perspective.

However, last night I was faced with a lady who had decided not to be known as feminist because she was a Christian, and so here I have decided to outline what I believe feminism means for Christians, both male and female. 

To keep it short and simple, I will list 3 cans and can’ts. 

A Christian feminist can be a Christian and a feminist. 

This seems remarkably obvious to me, but was not to the lady last night. She argued that feminism challenges the very foundations of what it means to be a woman, and destroys the ideas and purposes God has laid out for us. That feminism argues against the idea of [particularly a male] headship. However, a Christian feminist should listen to God as much as a normal feminist would listen to whoever is teaching her how to drive when she’s on her L plates. He is still sovereign, the Creator and loving. Like with science, political views need to correspond with biblical teaching, but often cover other or additional areas. Science explains the how, feminism explores a response to fighting for justice in a sinful world. 

I believe that feminism gives Christian women an opportunity to express freely what and who God has created them to be. In societies around the world, women are told what to wear, who to marry and how to behave. Feminism fights for a world where a woman is valued just because of who she is, while Christianity fights for a world where a woman is valued just because of who God sees her as. If they work together, they can achieve aa world where God is sovereign and a woman can recognise how much she is to be loved despite her appearance, grades or social status. A world where a woman is not defined by whether she is dating, but simply by her relationship with Christ. 

A Christian feminist can decide what they will and will not support and still call themselves a feminist. 

Many Christians disagree with abortion and same sex marriage. Honestly, some Christian women are uncomfortable not shaving their legs, wearing make up or having short hair. But this doesn’t mean they are excluded from the movement of feminism. This just means they are choosing their battles with another perspective. You should not purposely ignore every invitation to go to a rally which supports or opposes something because it is based on feminism [for instance, political rallies, mental health days, fundraisers for organisations which benefit females]. Indeed, it is probably more helpful to present a positive Christian influence than to withdraw from a name for fear of incorrect association. 

A Christian feminist can disagree with other Christians and still call themselves a feminist. 

I disagree with the woman from last night about a couple of the things she said, and that’s okay. Just like with church and Bible study, and everywhere else I get challenged on things in the Bible, it means I have to have a humble heart and allow myself to be challenged before I write people off. Sometimes quarrels are unnecessary, and weirdly, she might just end up fighting for things that I do under a different name. But that doesn’t mean neither of us can be feminist. Complementarians and egalitarians alike can be feminist, Protestant and Catholic- as I say, anyone who thinks women should have equal rights to men.

A Christian feminist cannot choose feminism over Christianity. 

There are admittedly times where it seems preferable to ignore what the Bible is clearly saying to follow everyone else. However, we simply should not compromise our faith to follow an easier or more popular path. There are many issues many feminists support which I do not believe actually benefit women or their rights, due to my understanding of God’s plan for the world. That means I cop some flack. Christ will always come before anything of this world.

A Christian feminist cannot purposely do things just to bug others. 

This is a weird one, but it is one that was brought up last night and has stuck with me. Another of my friends doesn’t believe in feminism because she recognises all of the things the word is attached with rather than the simple definition I began this blog post with [whiny middle class “slacktivists” who are happy to retweet other people’s opinions but refuse to change their lifetyles, and wish to oppress men. For example, my high school drama teachers, who didn’t recognise a need for the male gender at all.] [I do not subscribe to this view.]

 Popping the word “Christian” on the front means that, wherever we are, whatever we are doing, we still have a mandate to be kind and loving. To not shove our opinions in other people’s faces unhelpfully, and to test every opinion that comes our way before mindlessly adopting it. The woman last night said she purposely shaved her head and ignored authority because it annoyed men, and that’s what [she thought] feminism is. However, there is a way to fight for better rights and still be helpful, meek and humble. I have shaved my head, but it wasn’t to shove it in anyone’s face [it was for charity]. I still have short hair, not because I despise femininity but because it’s practical, and, I believe, better for the environment. As with everything in life, consider how it affects others, how others perceive it and what you would say if you were asked a question about it.

A Christian feminist should not be scared. 

There are many scary things in the world today, and often the feminist movement has an urgency about it. However, the best thing about being a Christian feminist is that I know I am fighting to make this world better, but a day is coming where there will be no inequality, no fear of the future. A Christian feminist doesn’t have to worry about what other people think, or when other people disagree with her, as long as she is fighting for a world which is like God’s kingdom. 

In conclusion, I believe every Christian should be a feminist, no matter whether they’re male or female, and no matter how many of the “extras”/hashtags/movements they partake in. I think feminism campaigns for a world like God wanted, where men and women worked together not for themselves, their individual genders or the competition of it all, but for God’s kingdom come, his will done and earth like it is in heaven. 

The Book Store

  

Today I walked into one of the most beautiful book stores I have ever been in. 

Sometimes book stores just have this aura- this sense that the walls are lined with stories and not just printed pages. I wanted to thumb each spine and read every word. What really caught my eye were these reimagined covers of some old classics. They had gold edged pages and were intricately designed- you could tell someone had really put thought into how to capture the essence of the story and not just rebrand an old tale to sell again. 

It may have been the light pitter patter of rain outside in the dark, or the warm glow of fairy lights- I can be manipulated by atmosphere like any fool. But I think it was more the smell, of new books and the fresh leather goods they had for sale. I think it was the smile of the shop keeper, who left their store open for wanderers like myself. I think it was the sense that this store wasn’t just selling a product but something special, like each book was a present with a surprise inside. 

This is true- when I got in the car, virtually dragged away (by the words “I am parked illegally and will leave without you”), my mum said when I was little I had entered a writing competition in that very book store (and won). I have absolutely no recollection of this. But it is fact that, since I was young, I have loved to read and write. To tell my stories and to make people laugh with them. 

However, receiving stories is just as fun as creating them. Reading books has always been a way to expand my mind, take me places and remind me of a world that is not half bad. A world full of magic and justice and love- although rare in their purest forms, they exist. Good will triumph over evil, the girl will get the guy and the world will keep on spinning, a little better for its heroes. 

And to step inside a book store is to step into a world of possibilities. 

To step inside a good book store is like flying into that world.

The Art of Conversation

When I was in high school, I used to offer to braid people’s hair all the time. This may sound weird to you, but I went to an all girls school, where the length of your skirt, weight you had gained or lost and the huge pimple on your head you hoped no one would notice, smothered in make up, were all open to conversation, judgement and uncomfortable probing. (Now, every time I get a large pimple I hope no one will notice, a little voice in my head says “my school would have,” and I leave it be.)
So really, saying “you have pretty hair, would you like me to braid it?” wasn’t so out of the question.

The best thing about it, far from the feel of unwashed hair in my hands, was the conversation that sprung up from it. Like having dinner with someone, or chatting while the two of you play video games, people open up when they aren’t looking someone in the eye, and they forget their inhibitions, distracted. I’ve mentioned more than once I was a loner towards the end of high school, and I found myself starved of interaction, until the day I learned I was a fine braider.
Nowadays, it’s not that easy.

People at university don’t have time for you to braid their hair. Most of them come fully done, their make up and hair so perfect they look like they’re headed to formal dinners (men included). I sometimes worry I have missed the chance to break into groups and start random conversations- now it seems I had to have “been there that time”. At church it’s a little easier- you can ask them what they thought of the sermon, what they did that week, about upcoming events and, if all else fails, note that the cookie selection is not particularly to your tastes, save the mint slices. It seems I have still not mastered the art of conversation. There was one particularly fateful camp where I became known as “facts with Patty”, because all of the random knowledge I have stored up over years became the only thing I could think to mention. Tonight I did whip out that stockings started off at socks, until it became fashionable to wear them higher and the gentry couldn’t get any higher than stockings. Anyway.

 
I think, if this post is to have a point, it would be this. That, I have been the loner. Indeed, in my current state at uni, I am in danger of once more being so. And it’s not that I don’t have things to say, and it’s not that I don’t want to say them. It’s just that I get a similar feeling around everyone the way I do around a crush. They’re always busy, or talking to someone else, or what you had planned to say has no relevance now, and you’re not quite sure how to start, so you blush, and curl up into a ball in the corner or resort to chatting to a well known friend like wrapping yourself in an old blanket. When I actually have a crush, I just wait for it to die from a lack of attention before I even bother thinking of something to say.

Oh yes, the point.

Well, I’ve been a loner and it was no fun.

It was easy, and I had books and schoolwork and stuff, but constantly feeling left out of stuff when deep down I knew no one knew I wanted to be let in felt bad. Avoiding someone you like, and never knowing how they feel about you (or whether they know you exist) feels bad. Being alone in a room full of people you feel cut off from feels bad. And one day, you run out of fun facts and realise all it took was a little leap.
I just need to find something better than, “can I braid your hair?”

The Empty Pews

  
Last year I got to meet a Christian lady from Pakistan. She said where she’s from, people crowd in rented tents just to hear the gospel, until they are spilling out of the doors. Here, in what is known as a Christian country, we have beautiful buildings, and a freedom to believe what we want, but the preachers are speaking to empty pews. 

I have not been able to shake this image from my mind.

It is a large part of why I moved from Hillsong, a wildly expanding and very popular church, to a local Anglican Church. Because, although the preaching hits me in the heart, and the people are kind and welcoming, there are back few pews are pushed together, unused. And nothing has never stirred my heart so much as to see those pews filled.I think this feeling is common amongst Christians. The people who have been saved from drowning and are sitting safely in the boat drying off know better than anyone what it feels like to still be in the water. If nothing else, Jesus told us to make disciples and spread the gospel. That alone makes it worthy of our time, energy and passion. But I’ve come to realise three things in my mission to fill the pews.

Firstly, that we do not fill the pews to fill the pews. 
So often when you are passionate about converting people to Christianity, you let that become your focus and you begin to spurt utter nonsense in the hope of getting people to listen to you. I’ve seen Christians bring up the most controversial things in order to get attention, or start every conversation with “how do you feel about Christ?” There’s nothing especially wrong with this, but I’ve realised that forcing a reaction from someone on the spot is not the best way to get them into church, particularly with an open mind. For instance, when people stand on boxes in the city and shout bible verses about salvation and hell at passers by. They have this desire to see people saved, but they see the people in front of them as a mass. They are happy to fill their pews with people scared into being there, people they don’t know and who don’t know Christ, and to fill a yearly quota with numbers instead of humans. Something I had to decide from the get go was that I wasn’t making friends with people just to get them to church. People can smell fakes, and advertisers. No one wants to make friends with someone who is just going to try and sell them something. People want to make friends with the friendly. So we cannot blindly go about filling the pews with extras and randoms, just as it’s embarrassing when you find out your friend has an app that gives them followers on Instagram. 

Secondly, filling the pews takes time.
This is something that has been weighing on my heart recently. I’ve just started uni and everyone has been telling me this is the time I’ll have the best conversations and make life long friends. But, every time a class ends, someone has somewhere to rush off to. Every time I make conversation with someone, the next class they’ll be sitting next to someone else. And, as much as you may want to blame my lack of good friends and, consequently, good conversations, on my awkwardness, I had to realise that to get to a point where someone is willing to discuss religion with you, you will have to give them time. Just as you can’t make friends with only the intention to convert them, I think you can’t make friends until you’ve given some time to getting to know them. I think they are worth the time and effort in the first place.

Now, I’m having trouble making friends at all. But once I do, I need to remember, along with every other Christian who has any friends, that they may not say yes the first time, and there is no specified timing to it all. I became friends with my coworker when we started working together. A year on (this Monday, in fact), I gave her a book on Jesus. It isn’t instant, because people aren’t microwave popcorn. When you are genuine with people, you will get closer to their heart. It’s a simple truth, but one that means patience.

And finally, the pews may not always be full. 

When I joined the church I’m currently at, around 5 people left for good things in other places. And I realised that, even as I pray for God to use me to fill the pews, these pews are not the only ones that need filling. They will move, and fill other seats. But God will use them to fill 30, 60, 100 times what was planted. And I’ll just keep filling the seats I’ve got in front of me. And so, the church will grow. Do not be disheartened if your friend moves church- as long as they’ll be with you in heaven, both you and God can have a smile on your faces. The easiest way to fill a pew is to fill it with people who don’t yet believe, and get them to keep coming back. But if a Christian fills it, that’s great. If a person fills it for a while, that’s okay. It just means the work will not be done until Christ returns, and you knew that was the case anyway. 

So, in short, I’ve found my mission in life is summarised in the little catch phrase of “fill the pews”. I don’t care if that’s with kids, or they’re not real pews and were filling a football stadium for Christ. I don’t mind if it’s in Australia or Pakistan or if I’ll pioneer evangelism in Antarctica. I just want real people, with real problems and stories and hearts to come and hear the good news. 

Because there’s no point it being preached to empty pews in beautiful churches no one sees.