Hayley.

Hayley Langston is British. And hilarious. And talks really fast. She also has lots of good stuff to say. Check out her little talk from a few weeks back. We're lucky to have her!

Casey's Awkward Confessions: #4

Never do a statistics assignment at 4am.

You would think this would go without saying. Apparently not.

It was the last week of my second year at uni. We’d had a big dinner in honour of the third year residents who would shortly be leaving our hallowed halls for the sub-par cuisine and questionable hygiene of student-flat living. After dinner I went to bed while the party raged on. Unfortunately the party moved to a bonfire. Which happened to be right outside my room. No sleep for Casey.

At around 3:30am I gave up trying to catch some zzzz’s and decided I might as well be productive. So I dragged my semi-conscious body out of bed and decided to start my stats assignment (which, incidentally, was due in later that day). I’d been working for about half an hour when I heard a noise at my door. I got up to listen and was about to open the door, when suddenly the door was in my face. Literally. All up in my grill.

Let me explain. A few of the guys in college had a nasty habit of kicking in other people’s doors. With an almighty crack the door frame was ripped off the wall, my door swung into my head and I literally went flying back 2 meters and crashed into my desk. It’s a shame Jackass weren’t filming, it would have been quite spectacular. It’s strange how time slows down during those moments. I specifically remember careering backwards over my chair and as my feet lifted off the ground and my back smashed into my desk I suddenly realised I hadn’t breathed since I got hit. In an attempt to take a breath I let out the most awful, manly ‘aaargh’ which sounded suspiciously like a drowning sheep. Attractive.

Once I had processed what had happened I called my friend, who answered the phone with ‘who the f*** is calling me?!’ It took me three attempts to coherently ask him to come help. He found me with a giant lump on my forehead, a swollen purple lip, a gash on my back, crying hysterically. I had also made the unfortunate choice of wearing a warehouse polo shirt as pyjamas. Not a polo shirt purchased from the warehouse. The actual uniform. Great call.

There was a lot of fuss and bother and eventually it was decided that I probably wasn’t concussed so I could go to sleep, then go to the hospital in the morning (which was right next door. How handy). When my friend came back in the morning to take me to hospital I wouldn’t wake up. So he did what any resourceful person would do. He went and got me hashbrowns and pancakes and miraculously I woke up straight away. Fancy that.

So I went to the hospital and got my doctors certificate for a mild concussion (which also got me an extension on my stats assignment – win!). While dramatic, it didn’t really have any long-term impact on my brain functions. But that night was a turning point. Suddenly I didn’t want to do anything. I literally just didn’t have the energy or the desire to do life. I had never been so homesick. I didn’t even care enough to be miserable. I just had nothing. That night picked me up, spun me around 10 times, then dropped me onto a different path and dared me to walk. Dizzy and confused, I fell flat on my face.

Awkward confession #5 : I spent 10 years hating myself and, during a brief period of ‘relief’ I thought I was miraculously recovered. I thought once I’d reached the point where I actually felt like God loved me, I would stay that way and everything would just click into place. It didn’t. 2012 is PMSing all over my life and I didn’t see it coming. One minute I was all ‘crap God DOES love me and he CAN use me and it’s all going to be OK’, the next minute I was like ‘this is NOT how my life was supposed to be, it is UNFAIR and CRAPPY and I would like a refund please. Actually, I take back the ‘please’. Ha, take that.’ Why can’t we just reach a point where we are all fixed and happy and it stays that way? Yes, I know, it’s LIFE. It just makes my want to punch my own face a little bit.

The thing I don’t understand is why we are all so afraid to admit it. Why are we so ashamed? We are more than happy to have a whine and moan about the little things, but when it comes to the big life-changing stuff we think that being honest about the hurt and the fear means we are a terrible Christian. Because how could anything be bad when we have Jesus? Instead of being real we minimise our true feelings and cover it with a bunch of Christian clichés. If someone asks how you are, the correct answer is: ‘I’m great, Jesus loves me, He has a plan for me, His timing is perfect, He knows how I feel’ even though the real answer might be: ‘I’m devastated, everything hurts, I can’t see a way out.’

Many of you will know that I studied at Sydney University. The plan was to stay in Sydney for a couple of years after I graduated, save up money and head further abroad. Many of you will also know that instead I came home as soon as I graduated. Not all of you will know why. In a nut-shell, I came home for a boy. At the tender age of 21 I decided I wanted to get married more than I wanted to see the world. I am currently single. We can all join the dots on that one.

At the time, if you’d asked me how I was I would have said something like ‘it’s a bit of a bummer, but I know it’s for the best. I believe God wanted me back in New Zealand and He wanted me to be single because he has work to do in me that He couldn’t have done if I was in a relationship. I know God is going to use me and I’m looking forward to seeing where He is going to take me.’ While all of those are true, what I was really thinking was ‘!thi$%i$^f&*%in!^b%$#s@#$%^&*!’. I was devastated and I couldn’t see the bigger picture because all I could see was disappointment and heartbreak. It doesn’t mean I don’t trust God, it doesn’t mean I don’t have faith, it doesn’t mean I’m less of a Christian – it just means I’m human and have emotions.

Around that time we were given journals at church and were told to write pretty much whatever came to mind. I opened up that journal the other day and found my first entry:

‘I am tired. I’m sick of being in pain and trying to justify it by saying at least I learnt something. Sometimes the hurt can’t be rationalised away. Sometimes it just hurts.’

We’ve all been there, we’ve all been in that place where we feel like crap and can’t see a way out. We all reach a point where keeping it together is just too exhausting. But we only feel safe to admit it after we’ve got through it. We only share stories of pain and suffering if they have a happy ending. We will only admit to the hurt and disappointment if there is a ‘but’. ‘But I know God is going to use this experience for my betterment’. ‘But God is good’. ‘But God has a plan for me’. There is huge truth in all of those statements. In hindsight I can see how real those statements have been in my life. But only in hindsight. At the time I was so weighed down by darkness that I couldn’t even imagine the light.

I guess what I’m trying to say, in a rather glass-half-empty kind of way, is why are we so afraid to be real? And why can’t we let those around us be real too? I’m not quite sure when ‘coping’ morphed into ‘not having any bad feelings at all.’ We hide behind our ‘God is good’ culture and awkwardly dance around the fact that real, unexplainable, unjustifiable suffering exists. Everywhere. Every day. And I’m not talking about dramatic news stories, or that awful thing that happened to Johnny’s uncle’s colleague’s sister’s son. It’s easy to talk about suffering when it’s happening to others and it’s out of reach – poverty, famine, natural disasters, the list goes on. But I am talking about YOU. What is happening in YOUR life?

I love hope. I believe in hope. Hope reminds me that the crap I feel right now isn’t my future. Hope encourages me to face my problems. Hope promises me that, whether it be in this life or the next, it will get better.

Hope doesn’t take away the pain of today. Hope isn’t the cure. Telling someone that ‘it will get better’ doesn’t mean it is automatically better now. It just means there’s something to work towards. There is something to fight for.

Hope is what makes me not give up.

My challenge to you is be real. Feel what you are feeling. Experience the freedom of being honest about the fact that sometimes LIFE SUCKS! It’s OK to feel overwhelmed, it’s OK to feel hurt, it’s OK if you don’t see the light right now.

Just don’t give up.

Casey's Awkward Confessions: #3

Once upon a time, a very long time ago I was making out with my high school boyfriend* in a totally above-board, PG rated kind of way. No wayward hands, no Christian grind. Totally innocent. Suddenly he stopped, looked away from me and wouldn’t tell what was wrong. One minute he was all ‘yes please’ the next minute suddenly it was ‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’ The following day I asked him about it and his reply was “Oh, I could have kept making out for a lot longer.” Slightly perplexed, I then asked him why he had stopped. His reply was:

“Because I was worried you were going to have an orgasm.”

I remember thinking ‘crikey, buddy. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.’

Awkward Confession #3 : When I get married, I fully intend to have sex in every room of the house. A lot. I know, how dare I say that. I am unmarried, I should be pretending sex doesn’t exist. Don’t even think about finding someone sexy. That’s disgusting. I’ll be praying for you.

I have been assured that guys will quite happily talk about sex until the cows come home, but for girls I often find that sex drive fits into the same category as periods, flatulence and under-arm hair – it’s better for everyone if we just pretend it doesn’t exist. We might talk about it with a select few behind closed doors, but on the whole we don’t really like to admit that we want to have sex just as much as anyone.

All my life I just assumed I wouldn’t have sex until I was married. I never really thought about why, I just knew that’s what I wanted. When I was young it was easy, because the thought of actually having sex made me want to throw up a little. Boys weren’t exactly on the top of my to-do list. At some unknown point during my teens this all got turned on its head and my body was suddenly all-systems-go. Not exactly helpful for my ‘no sex before marriage’ plan. However, despite more than a few glitches along the way, my virginity has somehow remained intact.

Choosing to save yourself for marriage isn’t the easy option. It’s a constant challenge. Everything and everyone tells us we should be having sex. I never get asked ‘why’ I’m not having sex, I get asked ‘HOW?!?!’ at shocked, high-pitched decibels that can only be heard by dogs. It seems so unimaginable that a young adult, in the ‘prime of life’ could be able to restrain herself. I have non-Christian friends who pretty much thought bases 1, 2 and 3 were invented for Christians so that they’d have something to do before marriage. And rather than listening to why I choose to live this way, I tend to get a reputation as a judgemental prude who is clearly asexual and has never had a sexual urge in her life. They couldn’t be more wrong.

We always talk about ‘temptation’ as if it’s someone kind of magical, uncontrollable force. Like it’s a trap that we accidentally stroll into when we’re looking the other way but by then it’s too late. We blame temptation for leading us astray, but the truth is much more sinister.

The real reason it’s difficult is because you want to have sex. And that hottie that doesn’t put up a fight when you try to cop a feel isn’t the problem – he/she is an opportunity. The desire was already there under the surface, trading secrets with your hormones, dancing through your veins and throwing parties in all the local hotspots. The desire is with us all the time – the media, the shirtless guys at the beach, the girls in the barely-there shorts, the r-rated books and movies, the boy/girl flirting with you are all just outlets. The real reason it’s hard isn’t some external force compelling you to do naughty naughty things. The real reason is you.

It all starts to get messy when we actually find ourselves in a relationship. Suddenly its not just you anymore. You’re with someone you want to have sex with, and for reasons unknown they want to have sex with you too. And then your non-Christian friends ask ‘so where in the bible does it say not to have sex anyway?’ And you open up your bible but the only verses you can find talk about ‘sexual immorality’ and ‘adultery’, but don’t specifically say to keep it in your pants until you’ve put a ring on it. And then you start to question why you can’t just have sex. I mean, you love your boyfriend/girlfriend. You’re planning on being with him/her for the rest of your life. Is it so bad to express your love in a physical way? And don’t forget the good old safety net of doesn’t Jesus forgive our sins anyway?

This gets complicated even further by the fact that we are built to respond. Having someone think you’re sexy is empowering. Having the power to turn someone on is, in itself, a turn-on. It just adds fuel to the hot and sweaty fire.

We end up in a strange internal conflict, where every shred of our being wants to have sex but at the same time we really don’t want to have sex. In the heat of the moment the brain sends out frantic signals to the rest of the body saying ‘stop it! This is wrong!’ But our crotch somehow manages to crack the password, override the system and change the orders to ‘full steam ahead.’ At that point our brain has to admit that it’s actually having a bit of fun and decides it’s easier to just roll with it.

I think sexual intimacy is incredibly powerful. I think it ties people to one another. It connects us in a way we can’t really understand until it’s happened. In the end, that’s what stops me. It’s not because the ‘rule book’ (A.K.A the Bible) tells me not to. It’s because I think sex was designed to be enjoyed in marriage. It’s because I believe that if sex is ‘so good I should be having it now’, it will be worth the wait. It’s because I believe sex is glue, and I only want to be stuck to one person. Sex is something I want to share with my husband alone.

I’m not perfect. I’ve gone further than I wanted to. I’ve crossed boundaries I swore I would never cross. I’ve given away pieces of me that don’t even belong to me, they were supposed to belong to my future husband (poor sucker). I have regrets. But I’m lucky enough to believe in a Lord who is full of grace. And I have great hope that one day I will fall in love with one of His followers who will mirror that grace. I have experienced so much grace already.

Next time I will try to do things differently. I will try to protect myself more. We all have a limit, a particular point where there’s no going back. The point at which all we can think about is satisfying the physical craving within. That moment where the desire wins and our boundaries don’t seem as important as how good it feels. I am going to do my best to stay back from that point, but I can tell you now I will probably still make mistakes.

I’m not going to stop wanting to have sex. I can avoid the ‘opportunities’, but I’m not going to completely shut down the desire, or pretend it doesn’t exist. At the end of the day, if I don’t want to jump my husband’s bones our wedding night is going to be a bit of an anti-climax.

And you better believe my wedding night is going to be EPIC.

Actually, it’s probably going to be awkward and painful and I’ll probably chicken out, eat lots of chocolate then go to bed early and lie awake panicking. But at some point, sex is going to be EPIC. And damn straight I’m looking forward to it.

 

 

 

*Disclaimer: No current members of Windsor Park Baptist Church were referred to in the making of this blog.

what must i do to be saved?

We'll continue with Casey's mini-series in a couple of days, but until then, here's some semi-recent nostalgia! JD, Bex, Chloe and Dan spoke about what salvation is and it proved for a great discussion and fun night. I love the ending in a big way. Check it out!

Casey's Awkward Confessions: #2

One of the most romantic and creepy things anyone has ever done for me happened in my first year at Sydney University, when I was living in one of the residential halls. I came home from class, went into my bedroom and discovered a note that had been slipped under the door. Written on pink card, the note said:

‘Roses are red

Violets are blue

I think you’re sweet

Do I have a chance with you?*

*That was a rhetorical question.’

Closer inspection revealed the note had also been scented with perfume. Yes, I had received my first official anonymous love letter. A scented, hand-written, pink, poetic and, for reasons unknown, rhetorical love letter. Before you ask, no it wasn’t from a girl.

Unfortunately the sender’s affections weren’t mutual and in a fit of startling maturity I got my friend to tell him that I was still with my boyfriend in New Zealand (I wasn’t. We had broken up. I am a terrible person). What made it worse was that I was the first person he had ever asked out. He was in third year of uni, had never asked a girl out and was wondering why he was still single. Unfortunately I found out this little snippet of information at a party, where I proceeded to tell all his friends while holding the hand of my new boyfriend. Once again, I am a terrible person. There may have been drink taken (sorry Jesus. And Mum).

Needless to say, it wasn’t meant to be.

Awkward Confession #2 : I don’t believe in ‘the one’. I don’t think that in this whole wide world there is one single person I am destined to be with. If there is, knowing my luck he will probably be based in South Korea. As I don’t intend to ever go to South Korea, he is just going to have to come to me.

I think you meet someone, get to know them, realise you’re onto a good thing, then commit to making them ‘the one’ you spend your life with. While we love the Twilight-esque concept of ‘destined-to-be-together’, I’m just not convinced that’s how it works in the world where vampires don’t exist.

I have been told that I am ‘real’ and that it’s ‘refreshing’. The unfortunate side-effect of this is that I tend to fly pretty close to the line of appropriateness and quite often step over and take a walk on the wild side. So I have been asking some of our church's most eligible bachelors the awkward question of 'WHY ARE YOU STILL SINGLE' as part of my extensive research into the ‘single epidemic’ that seems to be plaguing my generation. It seems that half of us are getting married and the other half are terminally single. So many excellent catches yet to be caught, so many crushes yet to be crushed etcetc. I have found that if you put this question to a decent guy who has a metaphorical queue of ladies lining up to be his future wife, he will hide behind the text book answer of ‘I haven’t found the right girl.’

I’m sorry, but I’m calling bull****. I’m not entirely sure what these guys are expecting. A neon saying saying ‘little miss right’? A 1 stamped on the girl’s forehead? The finger of God to descend from the heavens and point to the girl in question, while white doves take flight and the sweet serenade of Celine Dion drifts over the glassy waters caressing the hull of the yacht you just happen to be on for this magical moment? Fact: you will never know if someone is right for you unless you actually give it a chance.

While I’m sure there are couples who have experienced the mystique of ‘love at first sight’, for the rest of us romance-deprived youth a relationship usually starts with the humble crush. The simple, unglamorous moment when you notice something you like and feel drawn to it, even if you aren’t 100% sure what it is. Then, heaven forbid, you get to know them. This is the bit that takes a bit of effort, and a bit of balls. But I happen to have it on the good authority of a recently engaged couple, that the happy bride-to-be had never even considered her fiancé to be more than just a friend until he got off his ass and asked her out. And now they are on the fast-track to wedded bliss. Write that one down on your list of life lessons.

Yes, I know, it’s all a bit hit and miss. Asking someone out is risky. She might say no, she might laugh at you, she might slap you in the face. OR she might say yes, it might work out, you might get married and have lots of sex and babies.

 And before you get all dramatic on me, I’m not suggesting you date everyone you know. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m merely suggesting that if you have a cheeky crush and want to get to know them more, act on it. You never know what might happen unless you pursue it. Sure she might say no, but at least you know there’s nothing there and you can move on. The next one might say yes.

Or you could just do nothing and invest in a small cat colony. Up to you.

I realise this is all very hypocritical of me. When we fought for equal rights, we women should have thought it through and realised it meant we now had equal rights to make the first move. I mean, when was the last time I asked a guy out? Never. But I have my reasons, they are threefold (classic Friends reference for all you fans out there).

Reason 1) My close friends can attest to the fact that you do not want me to open the pandora’s box that is my ‘love life.’ It is definitely a lot more ‘com’ than ‘rom’ at the moment.

Reason 2) I will happily admit that I don’t have the aforementioned balls required to instigate the ‘getting to know each other’ stage of a relationship. Which potentially explains why I am still single. I prefer the much more dignified and ladylike approach of dropping fairly obvious hints in the hope that the unfortunate target of my affections will realise I am interested and do something about it. If he doesn’t take the bait he is either a) socially-challenged or b) not interested. Both of which are deal breakers.

Reason 3) I just haven’t found the right guy yet.

Casey's Awkward Confessions: #1

It’s come to my attention that I’m a bit of a weirdo. My colleague calls me ‘an education.’ I think what he really means is ‘get away from me crazy lady.’ I have feelings I’m not supposed to have, I have doubts I’m not supposed to have, I have questions I’m not supposed to have. I also have a sneaking suspicion that I’m not the only one. So, in an attempt to sort through the chocolate-induced madness that is Casey Murray’s brain, I have decided to record my thoughts. I realise this is a dangerous endeavour, but let’s be honest, you are the one that’s silly enough to actually be reading this right now. If you know me, you know what you’re getting yourself into. If not, I promise I am actually semi-sane in real life.

I’m 23 and I’m having a mid-life crisis. I just got home from a 21st where I was talking to a 21 year-old about how when he thinks about his future he always thought that by 23 he’d have it sorted – got the job, got the girl, got it together (then awkwardly admitted that he’s not looking good on any of those…) I turned 23 yesterday, I’m very single, I don’t like my job and I still don’t really understand how to actually live.

When I was younger, people in their 20s seemed so old and mature and responsible. It came as a shock to realise it’s all a bit of a sham and despite my best efforts I’m still just a bit lost. The more I learn, the more I realise I don’t know a thing. Where I thought I’d find answers, I’ve just found more questions. I’ve experienced more – more success, more fun, more failure, hurt and brokenness. But somehow I still just don’t get it.

Awkward confession #1 : I have no idea what it means to ‘give your life to Jesus.’ I feel like I’ve heard this phrase a million times but I don’t understand what it looks like in my real life. My life isn’t something I can pick up and hand over to God, it isn’t something I can actually see or touch. It isn’t a feeling like love, that I can demonstrate by showing affection. My ‘life’ is an abstract concept where I stumble around in the world, trying to do the right thing, pay the bills, go to church, be nice to people, then time passes, I go to bed, get up the next morning and do it all again. How exactly do I give that to someone?

I get the concept, making a commitment to follow Christ etc etc. But this morning I got up late (again) and went to work late (again). I sat around looking at how messy my desk is, wondering how a girly girl like me ended up in a job where I have a box of nails and a palm nailer sitting on my desk. I replied to some emails, then had a 1 hour phone conversation with my boss in which he successfully managed to increase my to-do list by a full page. He then called me back just so I could listen to a birthday card which, when opened, played a South Park character yelling obscenities. I ate half a box of roses chocolates, went out to buy lunch, complained about how hot the air con was (first world problems!), re-wrote my to-do list, sent a couple of emails, then went home to get ready for the 21st at which I had the conversation that sparked this little rant (aren’t you glad?). What about that shows I’ve “given my life to Jesus.” Not exactly the inspired life of a super-Christian. Oh wait, when I was driving home I was thinking about a friend who is in hospital and thought I should pray for him. It went along the lines of ‘God, I don’t even know what to say. This sucks. Please fix it.” Super spiritual right there.

I think we forget that life can be just so ordinary. As a church we thrive on inspirational stories of passion and miracles, rather than the nitty-gritty, practical reality of doing Christianity in our every-day lives. Not the ‘and then the pain in my hand went away’ or the ‘after I prayed for her she gave her life to Christ’ or even the ‘I felt God say to me…..’ The boring stuff. The days you don’t have an amazing spiritual experience. The days you don’t open your bible. The days you barely think about God at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good inspirational story. I’m not denying that amazing spiritual experiences do happen. I just think that when we only hear stories of great triumph and uber-spirituality we get scared that because we don’t feel like that all the time we aren’t doing it right. It builds an unrealistic expectation of what the every day life of a Christian is. For years I was let down by my own unrealistic expectations. I would go to church and watch as people got up and shared testimonies of the amazing things God was doing in their lives. I would go home and cry and beg for something, anything to make me feel what everyone else seemed to be feeling. To be a part of the adventure everyone seemed to be on. I had this idea that Christianity was like a game with different levels – “congratulations, you have earned 10 God points. Collect one spiritual gift and move on to level 3. Choose wisely, level 3 may contain a SPIRITUAL ATTACK!!!” All I wanted to do was to get to the level where I felt like I could be satisfied that I was a ‘good’ Christian with a ‘strong’ faith and a ‘close’ relationship with God. I felt like everyone was in on the secret, except me. I thought it was my fault. Clearly I wasn’t worthy. Clearly I wasn’t loved.

It has taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t actually anything wrong with me (OK, that was a big call. There are definitely more than a few things wrong with me… But that’s for another day). I have had to learn that I’m still a Christian even when I’m not feeling ‘in-tune’ with the spirit. I’ve had to learn that sometimes we go through quiet times. I’ve had to learn that everyone’s different and that maybe I wasn’t created to have incredible visions and life-changing prophesies. I’ve had to learn to find God in the small things. More importantly, I’ve had to learn to find God in the hard times as well as the victories. I’ve had to learn that God works in ways I cannot begin to comprehend. I’ve had to learn that I can’t always be in control.

So I continue to stumble around doing this thing called life. I still have my freak-outs. I still have lessons that I need to learn and re-learn. I still have 66 million questions and not nearly as many answers. But I will keep looking for them. I will keep searching for God among the mess because at the end of the day, even if I’m a bit confused about the journey I know I’m working towards something great.

I am very much a work in progress. But that’s OK, it just means God hasn’t finished with me yet.