Tag: purpose

Sitting in the Margins: A Year in Review

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This week kicks off a brand new year for the students at the Candler School of Theology and I really can’t believe that this time last year, I was a first year student, bright eyed, bushy tailed (read: haired!) and eager to start on a new journey.

I remember posting this status on the first day of orientation:

August 22 Facebook Post

Then, I didn’t know how all of my experiences had lead me there, but I knew that the pull from God to go that direction was the right thing to do. It didn’t always make sense, but I was sure that I was on the right track.

Throughout the course of the year, my ideology about God and people would change drastically. The embedded theologies that have been with me for decades began to shift as I read and searched the history and context of familiar texts finding new meaning in them.

Ideas I had about “certain people” and varying “ideas” were dropping, shifting, molding, and taking new shape.

Some folks told me I was “losing my Jesus.”

I just laughed. If the only knew that what was happening behind the Tweets, Facebook posts, public worship, and every day life was drawing me closer to Him.

In the last year, I’ve been broken, depressed, lonely, fearful, afraid. I’ve been displaced and, for a moment, I was living out of my car. Months later, that same car was repossessed. Relationships were  broken and my pride and ego was crushed to pieces. For a very serious moment, I considered dropping out of school and thought that I had made a horrible mistake trying to pursue God in such a “grandiose” way.

How could a path so certain be filled with so much brokenness and figurative (and literal) death?

The answer was right in front of me: God was desperate for me to experience something much more than a change in theology or continual exercises in critical thinking. He wanted me to experience what it truly meant to be a part of the marginalized.

I am a marginalized person; I am a Black woman and a single mother who uses public assistance to keep things afloat. My position in the margins have always been there. My marginalized seat as a Black single mother who is on public assistance is well worn, but the experiences in the last year have introduced me to what it is like for families to scramble to find emergency housing and what the working poor face as they have limited transportation and must rely on the kindness of others and public transit to travel around the city for work and school.

As I found residence in a new section of “The Margins”, parts of my elitist, privileged views were revealed. They were ugly. I became one of those whom I once turned my nose up at, who I had no patience or compassion for. My degrees didn’t matter, neither did all the blessings that I was afforded over the years. God leveled the playing field. He made me see things the way He sees things.

Once God restored me with a place to call my own and a little cash car I was able to buy with a whole bunch of favor (and unexpected funds), I realized that everything I had experienced, as brief as it had been, was enough for me to have a newfound compassion and understanding of what the heart of God is. It taught me that this life we have, these things we possess are nothing — they have no weight — and they are never to become a place of comfort for us.

God kept me when I wanted to quit — when nothing was making sense but I was still required to keep moving forward.

During the most desperate of times, God ensured that my pride (that I held soooo tightly) wouldn’t hinder me from being able to receive from people He brought to me to help me.

All of the furniture I own, every dish, bed, and pot, was given to me — for free. (Remember this? Yeah, good seeds come back.)

A number of other things have happened that have blown my mind — all kinds of opportunities — that have made the last year’s pain just a distant memory. Weeping may endure for a night… (y’all know the rest!)

There are so many things I could name that has changed in the last year, but the thing that I can say that has changed the most is this:

I treat people differently.

I try not to use my “Christian privilege” to make people feel inadequate or less than. I try not to take scripture out of context to appease my own fears and insecurities about my misunderstandings of others.

What I’ve learned in the first year was simply how to treat people better: the estranged, the outsider, even myself.

I could attribute a shift in theology for that. I really could. But, as we know, there’s no greater teacher than experience, right?

As I begin year two in this journey, I am desperately seeking vocation. I am trying to understand what God wants me to do with my life’s experiences — and show me how to shape them into purpose.

I know things won’t be easy this year and year two will present its own set of problems. But I am thankful for where I am in this moment.

I’m also very thankful to the friends, family, classmates, professors, staff members, and even strangers who kept me moving forward when my feet felt stuck in the cement.

Thank you.

Here’s to year two, y’all!

Keep an eye on this blog for conversations about what I’m learning this year — and tell a friend!

On the Chase,

Alisha L.

There’s Something to be Said

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Today, at 7:44 AM, I turned 30 years old.

I recently discussed the significance and meaning behind the number 30, so there’s no need to go into that any further. Today, just for a moment, I’ll reflect back on the last decade of my life.

In the last ten years, I’ve been and become so many things. In retrospect, I feel like I was more bad than good. From age 20 until 26, my life was riddled with so much self-imposed mess. I contemplated suicide, loved men I had no business loving, gave my body away to people who were undeserving. I searched to fill age-old voids in people, places, and things that were toxic and hurtful and downright excessive. I served a short stint as someone’s mistress and an even shorter stint in jail.

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s the photo to prove it.  (When I’m famous, TMZ won’t have anything on me. You got it here first. I swear the people who take your picture in jail intentionally tussles your hair to make you look insane.)

Loving the wrong person (and not loving myself enough) got me in jail. It took me 9 months to beat those charges (they were eventually dropped), something I could have never done without my family and God. I’ll tell that entire story another day, though. (New York Times Best Sellers book, maybe?)

I remember being six months pregnant (I think I was 22 years old) and being chased out my apartment by a knife wielding lover. I was in my night gown. Neighbors heard the ruckus and called the cops. By the time they arrived, I was back in the apartment accepting profuse apologies. The cop never knocked on the door and I wasn’t brave enough to run out to him to be rescued. These were the moments of my twenties.

Most people would have never known these things happened unless they read the book I wrote in 2010, Pieces: Finding the Missing Piece is Easier than You Think. I was 27 years old. It was the first time in my life I felt okay with being freakishly transparent. I spent so many years hiding my flaws and idiosyncrasies that writing that book and being transparent was one of the most  liberating, freeing, and probably one of the most impactful things I’d done so far in my life.

And I became addicted to it.

I promised God that every time I had an opportunity to write, I’d let two things happen: say whatever He wanted to say and be brave enough to let my dirt show. Although I agreed to this, I asked, “Why do I have to be so transparent? Why do I have to let everyone know my ‘business’?” He gently replied, “The uncovering of “dirt” isn’t for you, it’s for them. People are looking, searching for transparency. I’ll give you the ability and courage to be it.”

As I got closer to ending my twenties, proverbial light bulbs began to go off; I started to actually walk the talk, dig into why I was put on this earth, and focus my energy into people, places, and things that were in line with that purpose. If you follow me on Twitter or if we’re friends on Facebook, you know what the last couple of years have looked like for me. God’s grace and favor has shown itself in ways unimaginable.

Now that I’m 30 years old, the year of “the right moment” and “dedication”, I’m thankful for every moment in my twenties, good and bad. I’m thankful for the growth, the hurt, the joys, the successes, and epic failures. I’m thankful for a patient family and a gracious God. Lord knows I don’t deserve either.

Today is the first day of the best decade of my life… so far.

Thank you for being apart of it, near or far, intentionally or by accident, by divine appointment or random occurrence.

Thank you.

On the Chase,

Alisha L.

The Right Moment

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The number 30.

In our world, turning 30 years old holds so much weight. That number serves as the marker of success; we’ve been told all of our lives that there are certain things that should be in place before you turn 30. Owning a home, moving up in your career, getting married and having kids are just a few.

I, too, believed that I was supposed to reach this pinnacle of “success” by the time I turned 30. In reality, I’m nowhere close. I live at home with my mom, I’m technically unemployed, and I don’t even have a prospect for marriage , let alone have someone in the picture to take me on a date. I’m sky-high in student loan debt, and I’m becoming a college student all over again in just a couple of weeks.

My life looks nothing like I thought it would at 30.

But I am in the right moment.

You see,the number 30 is the number that denotes the perfection of divine order, the right moment, dedication. (source)

30 is the indicator that something is beginning when it should, taking its rightful place in the world, a new level of commitment to goals and aspirations.

Jesus was 30 years old when he entered His ministry. (Luke 3:23)

David was 30 years old when he became king of Israel (2 Samuel 5:4)

Joseph was 30 years old when he began ascending the ranks in Pharaoh’s house. (Genesis 41:46)

The years prior to age 30 served as moments where these individuals learned valuable lessons that propelled them into their divine moment. It was the years that came after age 30 that set them apart and created a long-lasting legacy in the earth.

Too much are we consumed with not having all that society says we should have by age 30. What I’ve come to realize is that the greatest opportunity for us to have all that we desire comes after the 30, not before.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about the pressures (socially or self-imposed) that we face as we turn 30. We both agreed that we want the money, homes, cars, career success, and happy love life, and more often than not, we want it sooner than we can really handle it.

The final conclusion was this: God wants us to have all of those aforementioned things, however, acquiring them takes a little longer than what we’d like. Why? Think of it this way: the longer a tree is planted in the ground, the longer its branches become and the deeper its roots grow. God’s process forces our roots to grow extremely deep before acquiring too much — this way, when the proverbial storms of life come, we aren’t toppled over by a little wind and rain. Society’s way of giving us the same desires doesn’t allow for our roots to grow very deeply. We’re like saplings in a hurricane, quickly snapped in two by the weight of our desires.

This revelation has taken the pressure off in many ways! You may look at your life and say, “I don’t have xyz yet… and it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen by age 30.” Trust me, it’s okay. This is just a time for your roots to grow deeper!

I’m looking forward to turning 30. I’m running towards it with arms outstretched because I know this is my right moment. I don’t find it coincidental that a week and a half after I turn 30 I’ll begin seminary at Emory University. I’m no Jesus, but turning 30 and entering ministry is quite a parallel. God is so funny.

Those who are reading this probably cover the entire spectrum: successful and happy before 30, still finding your way post 30, and many more. If things aren’t looking quite like you’d like them, it’s okay — let those roots grow deeper and branches expand a bit. You’re in the right moment. You’ll see.

On the Chase,

Alisha L.

That’ll Preach: Bible Study Notes | December 19

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Here are the notes from tonight’s bible study. If you tweet out any of them on social media, use #thatllpreach for a hash tag!

12.19.2011

How do we know if the “voice” we hear is from God?
Scripture references: 1 John 4:1
We are told in the bible to test the spirit by the spirit. How do we know if what we’re hearing is from God? God tells us to test Him! Is what you’re hearing in line with what His Word says? God will never tell you to do anything that is contrary to His Word! Is he suggesting you call someone to clear the air or seek forgiveness? Have you “heard” this but wasn’t sure if it was you, Him, or the enemy? Continue reading →

Beyond His Name: Steve Jobs

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Since he co-founded Apple in 1976, Jobs personified what it meant to think outside the box and to do more than what people expected of him.

He’s been called a king and an egomaniac. A genius and a troubled soul. A pragmatic, secluded individual who only let us into his life one Apple, NeXT, and Pixar movie at a time.

The amount of accomplishments that Mr. Jobs held could go on and on, but what I find most interesting about the man and his life is that he lived beyond his name.

Jobs.

We are taught to strive for more than just a job. Strive for a career, your passion, what keeps you going.  Mama and daddy would say, “Having just a ‘job’ shouldn’t be the end goal. Doing what you were born to do, living with purpose should be.” To many people, a “job” is a way to meet an end, a short-term goal, a stepping stone to something greater. In many circles, it takes on a negative connotation and, as we learn in our later years, working a job just isn’t enough. We always want more.

Steve Jobs lived beyond his name. He lived beyond what people called him day in and day out. “Mr. Jobs,” employees and people around the world would say. Had we really thought about what we were calling him, “Mr. Mediocre”, or “Mr. Stepping Stone”, or “Mr. Way to Make Ends Meet”, we’d laugh and tell him (in the most respectful way possible), “You really should consider changing your name.” What a double whammy for his name to end with the “s”, implying that the plurality of what mediocrity could have been in his life had he never strived to be more.

It has been noted that Jobs’ biological parents, (who gave him up for adoption and whose last names were Jandali and Simpson) never named him. It was his adoptive parents, Clara and Paul Jobs who gave him his name.

Steven Paul Jobs embodied what it meant to live beyond your name. To live beyond the social expectations set by the world around us. To live beyond the abandonment of biological parents. Beyond the cold nights of living on your friend’s dorm floor after dropping out of college. Beyond selling your only possession (a Volkswagen van) to fund your dream, your passion. With every adjustment of his thin-rimmed glasses, with every speech and new development, with every megabyte, processor, megapixel, and animated story, we’re reminded of a legacy that pushes us to take a bite out of our own proverbial apple and change the world.

A final note: As innovative as he was, rarely was he seen outside the black mock-neck shirt and jeans combo and for many, it was that “uniform” that made him so interesting to us. With all of his money and notoriety, that same black mock-neck shirt and jeans reminded us that he was just a kid with a dream like the rest of us. He wanted to live beyond the norm and push the envelope of what it meant to exist and communicate with human kind. No one can say that Steve Jobs didn’t change the way they thought, lived, viewed and interacted with the world. No one. We can only hope to live beyond our names and be as innovative as he was.