Warning: I kind of talk about the end of “Serial”? So… don’t read this if you haven’t listened? 

So…the first season of podcast phenomenon “Serial” concluded yesterday. And it just…ended. There was no big twist or surprise “gotcha” moment. No shock factor. The ending was as much of a proverbial question mark as the beginning episode.

And this really, really bothered me (and many other listeners I’ve commiserated with!) People felt like they were strung along, only to be disappointed by the lack of finality. However, doesn’t it just come down to an entertainment factor?

We’re used to 22 minute moralisms. For foibles cleaned up and turned into fables with “made for TV” endings. Messy, unanswered, or open-ended questions are scary because…well…anything could be lurking in the unknown. Interacting with insecurities, ugly truths, answers we don’t really want to hear–in the silence, “there be the dragons.”

Real life answers are NOT entertaining, because for the most part, they’re anticlimactic, unsettling, or just sad.

Why do we crave closure so much?

Recently (also, hey, this is my first post in like 6 months, so recently refers to like anything from July onward, okay? Okay.), I went through a terribly un-fun breakup. The circumstances were sad, I was sad, everything was sad. However, I wanted more closure. I wanted a “bow ending.” A perfect, coherent speech that summed up my feelings and was pithy and smart–the ultimate Cool Girl finale speech. Of course, this didn’t happen, because I’m not living in a 2003 Reese Witherspoon movie. But I wanted that closure more than anything else.

Through that (and I guess “Serial” haha), I’ve realized though that sometimes answers come from lack. I’m learning to be okay with the mystery and dealing with the fact that finality doesn’t show up in ways we like sometimes.

The ending of “Serial” was just…real. We don’t get to have nice answers most of the times and really, bow endings are not real closure, but platitudes.

(And who knows, maybe Mail Chimp had something to do with it. My job is starting to use them now actually.)

When you rallied behind syllogisms rather than Scripture, I judged you.

When I saw the hurtful things you wrote about depression & suicide, I judged you.

When you refused to love people different than you, preferring stereotypes to relationships, I judged you.

When you made ignorant political comments under the name of Jesus, I judged you.

When you said really thoughtless comments about other people’s appearance choices, I judged you.

When you ignored, alienated, and judged the gay community, I judged you.

When you made fear-mongering movies based on false stereotypes, I judged you.

When you put down women in favor of patriarchy, I judged you.

And…I should have loved you. And remembered that none of us are perfect.

Loving those who don’t know God, that’s easy. Loving those who do know God but who I disagree with politically, doctrinally, and spiritually? That’s SO difficult.

How can I say that I love others & want to err on the side of loving others too much when I’m judging those who I deem are judgmental? This is hypocrisy, pure and simple.

Honestly, it comes down to pride–believing I’m more in tuned spiritually to how Jesus would act. HA–what’s that verse about removing the log from my own eye, again?

May I err on the side of loving too much–for EVERYONE. I need to take off my superiority blinders & give more grace. (Thank you to everyone who gave ME lots of grace during this time.)

Ironically the first image found when one googles “Christian Blogger”

CLEARLY, this post is self-referential, as I am both of these things. I’m making fun of myself, of blogging in general, and the trends I see out there. If you can handle a little tongue-in-cheek sarcasm, please indulge me.

You know you’re a Christian blogger when:

1) You use the occasional four letter swear word to show that you’re just as edgy and cool as your “secular” writer friends, while also implying that you mean serious business. (Clearly, if you say “shit” in your blog, you’re letting your readers know that you’re a world-weary Christian, tiptoeing that blurred line of “in the world & not of it” with the grace and poise of a blogging ballerina. You’ve been around the block and just have to prove it, damn it.) Although, you would never, ever say “the f word,” just variations when you get really heated on an issue. Hey, if the King James version of the Bible says a word, it’s okay to say it, right?

2) You are the voice of a generation. Who else can accurately describe the plight of the millennial better than you? No one? That’s what I thought. Nobody else can write about purity or church culture better than you–nobody else read “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” or had a purity ring, of this you’re 97% certain.

3) Your blog topics are mostly about: Harry Potter, sex, purity culture, dating, abstinence, sex, churches, sex, modesty, the Church versus the church, homosexuality, sex, pop culture, dating in the church, and the occasional current political/social event to spice things up. And then when you run out of topics, you just write more about sex again. Because of…reasons.

4) You have a severe case of whiplash: sometimes you love everything about the church (note: little c, because knowing that difference is also a sign you’re a Christian blogger) and other days you are to the point of extreme frustration with every aspect. Being jaded is pretty normal.

5) Sometimes it’s hard to discern the difference between actually having valuable something to say and adding to the cacophony of meaningless rants.

Okay guys, I did it. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t too difficult! Yesterday, I pledged to get rid of the excess in my life. I was supposed to pick out 48 pieces of clothes and shoes to give up to make my own 25% reduction quota–I found 58! Like I said, I go big or go home.

So, now instead of a closet of 195 shoes and clothes, I’m at 137…which is still an embarrassingly large number for one person to possess, but hey, it’s a start. And plus, I’m not doing all this so I can join a nudist colony–I still love clothes. 

And some of those things were only worn like once…yikes.

These piles of clothes represent easily hundreds & hundreds of dollars put to poor use, but even more than that, they represent insecurity (needing to use clothes to make me feel pretty/fashionable/wanted/etc), an overwhelming need for accumulation, avarice, and worst of all, proof that I’ve been a terribly irresponsible steward of the time & money I’ve been given by frittering that away on expanding my wardrobe & not expanding Something more permanent & meaningful.  

I desire simplicity–of a life not defined by the things I own or what I wear but of the words I say and the experiences I have. I want to live with my palms open & facing up, not clenched into a possessive grip. A life of yes rather than no. 

And I just can’t do that when I own a lot of things (even things I love, like clothes.)

Maybe you might think this is crazy (and it kind of is), which is totally okay. I get that. I’m only responsible for my choices–I can’t tell you to stop spending money or buying clothes (those sales racks at H&M beckon me like a siren’s call).  But if you want to join me–we might have less, but I think it will mean so much more to give rather than hoard. 

Last week, I traveled to Boston in pursuit of a dream.

Looking back, it’s kind of a mystical thing to do–spend real money and real time on something as abstract as an dream. I felt very “Eat Pray Love.” My dream was this: to attend grad school at Boston University and study their Emerging Media Studies program in the fall of 2015.

After nearly two years of  fruitless searching for grad programs, I somehow (not even sure how to this day) found this program last winter. I was at my most miserable, as my foot was newly broken, and the program seemed like a total God-send. Every line about the program seemed like it was written for me in mind. Maybe finding the BU program was why I broke my foot, I reasoned to myself (a recurring thought said about many different things during my 8 month foot break journey.)

And then suddenly this summer, life somehow slowed down into stagnancy. Everything suddenly felt plodding and aimless. I was at a proverbial fork in the road and needed answers, and not just from an admissions website. Sometimes with dreams you have to actually do something; there’s a time for talking, sitting, or reading, and then there’s a time to go.

So off to Boston I went. On the plane, I asked God to give me peace and confidence about moving forward to attend BU in the fall. I knew that if it was the path for me, I would know it by the end of my trip.

And the best part is that God gave me an answer.

The worst part was that it was a no.

BU is not where I am supposed to be next fall. My journey back to Pittsburgh had become a 600 mile funeral march rather than a victory procession.

Nobody tells you what to do when you witness a dream die.

Everyone says “When one door closes, another opens,” but why bother showing the door that’s about to close if it’s not going to stay open? I don’t understand why God shows us doors that look absolutely right, only to close them.

God always has something better, but sometimes it’s s difficult to see past the chaotic feelings of displacement and disappointment. Life is not nearly as neatly packaged as the metaphors we use to describe it. Sometimes a “chapter” ends and other times, the entire “book” is doused with gasoline and set on fire.

I don’t have answers. I just have a tiny glimmer of hope (based on the past) that the best is yet to come. So, as I face this nameless, faceless “other path” from that fork in my road, here’s to hoping for that.