"Why marriage?" That was the question I posed to myself during a car ride around the block. I'd thought a lot about marriage recently. Am I prepared for it? How challenging will it be? How will I be proposed to? What will my ring look like? But all these loaded questions came with a follow-up that I never once before considered.
Why marriage?! It screamed at me that time.
Outside of the conditioning of society that tells us marriage is the right thing to do, why have I gotten so high strung about it? I've decided recently that I may not even want to give birth—and Lord knows I don't need to address how controversial that is.
A woman...not wanting to give birth? That's absurd! —Society.
If I didn't want to have a child, then why marriage?
I never answered that question. Or any of the others. I simply let them marinate; echoing internally for the following 24 hours.
Marriage takes work. I grew up in a house of married parents where both love and anger filled the space. Arguments penetrated the walls of our 4-bedroom home. It greeted me every Saturday morning like an alarm I didn't set. I watched my parents, in the latter part of their 32 years of marriage, fuss and fight like none other. They raised their two children together (mom, more than anything), and had gone through plenty of ups and downs—many of which are just being brought to light. So with such an even dose of love and toxicity, why do I want marriage? Why do any of us want it?
With the question not ceasing, I asked those around me. They shared their opinions. "Because it's a true testament of love." "Because it's forever." "Because it's my vow unto God." And while each one of them could be countered with an alternative or another question that would dispute the idea that marriage is the only way to confirm these feelings, I didn't. Because the important piece of it all, is that these people wanted marriage for their own reasons. They wanted marriage for religious reasons, for personal reasons, and some for business reasons. One bold man, a friend of mine actually, even admitted to not being enticed by marriage. I loved all of it. All of the opinions. All of the conversation. All of the people sticking to what they believe.
Marriage is a promise. It's (perhaps) stability. It's (maybe) security. And, it's legal (if that means anything to anyone). But, why marriage? Why anything we do?
We uphold this legacy of doing, of living, according to the standards set before us. Standards created by our parents who raised us, our friends who love us, and a society that doesn’t even care about us. Standards that were passed down through generations during times we never lived through with motives we may never understand. But where, in any of this, do we exercise our own standards? Where and when, do we assert our own desires?
The deeper purpose of my question was to incite serious self-reflection. To force you to think about the many other things that you do that are not of yourself but of those around you. The habits you create and the behaviors you adopt that are mere imitations of what you see. Of what you're told. Of the counsel you're given.
How much of your pursuit—of life, love, and happiness—is stolen from an ideology you don't even understand? How much of it is someone else's dream? Someone else's standard?
Frankly, I'm sick of being rushed to have a child, as if my 27-year-old life should be filled with diaper changes and running noses. Rushed to get married as if solitude and singleness are taboo. Or to be ashamed that I don't yet have a ring on my finger, as if that's the only goal I should be working toward at my age. I'm sick of being asked what's taking so long, as if forever has a time limit, and beginning forever has a deadline.
I'm learning now, more than ever, the importance of doing me. Becoming me. Seeking whatever makes me happy, without needing validation or acceptance. There's an unequivocal importance of becoming, again, who I am, without fear of others thoughts. Without worrying about how my light impacts someone else's insecurities. Without questioning how my genuineness makes me look, or how my vulnerability and authenticity makes them feel. Without focusing on how living on my own terms (and God's—always God's) makes them uncomfortable.
In this life, the only one you get, you must do what makes you happy—what brings you joy—whether it's marriage or not.
I merely hope that when it comes down to it, you learn to do the same. To live the life you desire, despite the lives being shoved down your throat. Despite the perceptions of perfection that society wants you to feed into. Despite your parents, or friends, or colleagues making you feel bad about choosing the road less traveled.
I hope, constantly, that you as women—as queens—make decisions based on your God-given purpose and personal desires, rather than societal norms and expectations. And that you, at one point or another, stop seeking validation for your life from outside sources, but instead seek that validation from within. Because it is then, and only then, that self truly escapes, and that life according to your standards truly begins.
I put it in, then took it out.
Put it in, then took it out.
I parted larger, then started again.
And again.
And again.
Putting them in, and ripping them out just as fast.
Nothing worked. I was not satisfied with the five Marley twists I put in my hair. In fact, I hated them! Perhaps it was too early to tell what the masterpiece would come to be. When my full head was adorned in long, kinky, twists and ready to be styled, perhaps then I'd love it. Perhaps only when it all comes together at the end, would I be delightfully taken aback by the work that had been done.
I started, then stopped.
Started, then stopped again.
I tried. And stopped.
Again.
And again.
And again.
I finally gave up. I didn’t want the stupid twists anymore (I really did still want them) and I damned sure didn’t want to get carpal tunnel forcing myself to finish and be satisfied with them. That night, I quit. Over and over again. But the connection between that and my life (our lives), isn't the amount of times I quit—boy have I quit some things—it's the lack of time I allowed myself to endure the process.
Before I even got started, I stopped. Those five twists, couldn't turn into the 2,000 I planned to do, because I hated the lumps and bumps of them. I didn't care that the roughness of those twists would soon be drowned out by the many others that would soon accompany them. I didn't care that the 15th twist would look better than the 5th, because practice makes perfect. I didn't even bother continuing, because I hated the process so much - I hated where I was in that moment - that I decided to stop. To not continue. To walk out of my mother’s house in worse shape than I was when I walked in – entering with a bob, exiting with an unoiled afro.
As I sunk into my couch with disappointment in my heart and frustration in my eyes, I recognized that the true defeat came from myself. I simply didn’t want to go through the process. I hated the process. And I refused to waste any time continuing with the process, being unsure of what the finished product would be.
Doesn't that sound like life? Like change? Like transformation?
Like the many of us who want to become butterflies but refuse to spend time in cocoons. Those of us who want to be the flowers – roses, dandelions, tulips – but don’t want to be planted. Those of us who want to come out clean, but refuse to get dirty.
Nothing great ever just happens. Not my Marley twists, not that job you want, not that marital status; not healing, not growth – not anything. Everything has its process, and it’s through that process that things become. But how can you ever become if you refuse to go through the process? How do you plan to ever get there, if you refuse to start (or endure) the route?
So many of us want to be bosses without having ever been employees. We want to get to the top without ever having to climb. We want to just start there, ignoring the need for conditioning, transitioning, growing. We just want to be, without ever going through.
But if you choose to be something great; to achieve greatness; to be pressed, purposed, and promoted; decide to let the process happen. To let it begin. To not to judge the finished product by the process you just began. To not to rush through it. To not to hate it before it even starts. To embrace it. To enjoy the moment you're in at the moment you're in it. To take the bad twists and see them out to the end. Not because you want to, but because the process requires that of you.
And, in case you need guidance on how to enjoy the process (because, yes, it can totally be challenging sometimes), here you are:
HOW TO ENJOY THE PROCESS
1. Relinquish control. Many times we hate the process because we can’t control it. We try everything and nothing works how we think it should. Learn to acknowledge that everything won't always be how you hope. Learn to give up your need for control and let the powers at be work in the way they're meant to. Know that God is taking you on the best route, and trust that He’ll work it out beyond what you’re able to do yourself.
2. Shift your perspective. Much of your endurance is mental. When you change your mind, you can change your ability to achieve. Change your thinking to focus on the good things throughout your journey, not the bad. Instead of feeling defeat, recognize the growth that will occur from your discomfort. Instead of harboring on the challenges of this temporary state, recognize the good that will come of it. Think of effective ways to find the positive.
3. Stay focused. Instead of focusing on the troubles that lie ahead, keep your focus on what you're doing it for. Focus on becoming that butterfly you long wanted to be, rather than the cocoon you’re currently resting in. Focus on the outcome of your transformation, rather than the fear, thoughts, and insecurities of your current space. Stay focused on the end result and do what needs to be done to get there.
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Sidenote: I also spoke about this story (and this lesson) on my podcast. Listen below!
I fought myself a few times during the creation of this post. I recognize, though, that my space on the internet is my space on the internet, and that I am allowed (read: I’m allowing myself) to reach my audience how God sees fit, in the way He sees fit, through the content of which He sees fit. And for that, I will write and discuss all the truths and topics I deem appropriate. This post is not meant to offend, but to urge everyone to dig into the depths of their darkest closets, and pull from it, parts of themselves they've kept hidden and the realities that accompany them—for the sake of self-discovery.
By now, I’m sure no one reading this is a stranger to Kim Burrell’s offensive sermon, addressed toward homosexuality and the kingdom of God. It’s a story often told in the homophobic black church; one that so often—and unfortunately—pushes this very community away from the church. However, the delivery of her sermon seems to have taken away from the point of her sermon: to address the sinful spirit of homosexuality and the recognition of the sinful nature that is humanity.
Though I do not agree with her tone, nor do I ignore the influence her words have had on the LGBTQ community—one that served as a solid fan base for her music for years—I do agree with her premise. Homosexuality is a sin. Unrepentant sinners go to hell. For Christians, that's a truth that can't be ignored. As is the truth that fornication, greed, gluttony, lying, adultery and the many other things that many of us do in our everyday lives is also sin. Regardless of how we feel about any one of those, sin is sin. And the point I perceive she attempted to make (however distasteful as it was delivered), is just that. No matter how you want to sugar coat it, or how you wish to hide from it, it’ll remain—sin will always be sin. And the thoughts of our worldly counterparts can’t, do, excuse, or say anything to diminish the fact that you will be judged for the sins you’ve committed and haven’t repented from. Judged by God, not by our equally sinful human counterparts (but that's another lesson, for another time).
However, this post isn’t meant to attack the thoughts of others, discuss acts of sin, or identify where you will spend eternity—who am I to tell you that? To me, the bigger issue is the honesty we divulge within ourselves. It’s the truth we tell ourselves. When we rush to judge others, are we equally as quick to judge ourselves? Are we beating ourselves up (and down) for the transgressions we’ve committed, as hard as we beat up others? Or are we, like many, brushing our truths under the rug to be hidden, while we ridicule those around us?
Too often, Christians (we ought to be ashamed of ourselves) condemn those around us while we hide behind our own guises. As we put foggers over our own eyes to hide our insecurities, bad habits, and sins, we attack others for theirs.
I do not know Kim Burrell personally, but I do know that she’s fallen short of the glory of God plenty of times. And while she so adamantly and passionately spoke against the sin that is homosexuality, I merely hope she is able to speak as strongly against her own sins. I am equally as hopeful that we all are able to acknowledge our immorality—and truths—for what they really are.
The thing about self-discovery—whether we're talking about acknowledging and repenting for our sins, or simply digesting who we are at our core—is that it needs our honesty. It needs our transparency. We cannot discover ourselves, define ourselves, or improve ourselves if we're hiding from our truths. We also can't expect to digest our truths, if we're trying to disprove its credibility. We may not be comfortable calling ourselves out on our behavior, but that doesn't make it any less unfavorable, any less of our behavior, or any less sinful.
The thing about truth is that it will remain whether we agree with it or not. No matter how we try to mask it, it will always remain the truth. So when tackling the issues that plague our being—the ones we try desperately to escape, the ones that may be most controversial—we must be honest. We must be truthful. We must embrace all the parts of ourselves, equally, as to truly identify, shape, and become who we are [meant to be].
Embrace the heartache. The moments you fall short. Your imperfections. Embrace the parts of you that haven't yet been perfected. The-you-that-was-you-before-you became-your-current-you. Embrace it all—the good, the bad, the ugly. Whether the world agrees with it or not. Whether it’s accepted or not. Whether it hurts or not. Because the only way to adjust it is to be honest about its presence. The only way to discover yourself is to be truthful about what you find. The only way to own any of it is to be willing to admit that it's there.
So if anything, from Kim’s sermon we could learn a bit about our honesty with self. That, she was talking about the spirit of homosexuality being sinful, and though we may not agree with her tone, or her sermon, as Christians we must agree with that truth. That, she made it her duty to speak the truth—and stand by that truth—despite the dissension that brewed because of it. That, regardless of what we may feel, that is the truth: sin is sin. And that only in acknowledging the truth and owning our truth, do we become closer to ourselves and ignite the ability to improve. To become new. To welcome the possibility of becoming the women we're meant to be.
"Then you will know the truth. And the truth shall set you free." John 8:32
The beginning of the year is always the most exciting. It's when we're most optimistic, waiting for all our great declarations to manifest. It's when we're most dedicated to getting focused and making the best of the days to come. We become refreshed from the previous year's offsets and restored enough to tackle this year's.
Around this time new habits are formed that promise to make this year better than the last. And if prayer is on top of your list, this post is for you!
Prayer is your constant communication with God. It's how you talk to Him about your problems, how you surrender them unto Him, and how you speak to Him about your wants and needs. Though He knows them all already—He's not the all-knowing for nothing—He wants you to confide in Him. He wants you to trust Him.
While the beginning of a new year often brings restored faith, there will be battles that this year may offer that you're not sure how to deal with. Much like last year, unforeseen obstacles may arise; however, unlike last year, following the following tips will help you ignite your prayer life to create the atmosphere for a better year.
1. Be consistent.
Many of us have a bad habit of only praying when we want something. We drop to our knees when we've tried everything else, and are at our wit's end. Prayer, for many, is a last resort, not a first option. We pray one time, for five minutes, when we really need it, and afterward, God doesn't hear from us again. Not until the next time we run out of options and decide to pray again.The key to a prosperous year, and an even better prayer life, is to create a habit of praying; create a habit of talking to God. Speak to Him about your life. Chat with Him about your greatest victories. Let Him in on your most taxing problems, and give Him space and opportunity to resolve them. To fight for you. To be there.
Creating a habit of praying allows God the 'in' He needs to move the mountains He's willing to move in your life. When you let Him in on everything, rather than one thing, you give Him the chance to shift everything—rather than that one thing. Instead of running to your friends to disclose your information (then worrying about whether or not they told anyone else), run to God. He'll always keep your secrets, and He's the only one that truly knows how to solve them.
2. Be intentional
When I first started praying, I asked for simple things. "Lord, let me get paid more. Lord, let me get all A's. Lord, let me find a man." But with those basic prayers, came basic shifts.God is all-powerful, which means He is able to do all that you ask of Him. Get specific. Don't just ask for a raise or a new job, ask for the right job; ask for a career you're passionate about. Don't just ask for all A's, ask for overall academic success that leads to professional triumph. Don't just ask for a man, ask for the right man; a God-fearing one that will love you like Jesus loved the church, and honor you like you honor God.
If there is a battle you want God to fight for you, ask Him to. Ask Him to step in on your behalf. Ask Him to silence your nay-sayers. Ask Him to create in you a clean heart. Ask Him to shift your perception so you can see things as He does. God can handle more than just your carnal wants, He can handle your spiritual needs. He can shift your mental and spiritual self. He can do things within you just like He can do things outside of you; He can even do things within others. All you have to do is ask.
When you pray, be cognizant of what you're asking for, and intentional in how you ask.
3. Believe.
Prayer without belief is useless. You cannot ask God for something and continue to worry about whether or not you'll get it. Whether or not He'll do it in your life. Many of the mighty works in the Bible have been satisfied by faith. And so it is by your faith (belief) that your prayers come to pass.When you pray, walk away with relief. Leave all the challenges you've prayed for at His feet, and trust that He is going to pick them up and handle them. Know that the very thing you prayed for, God will do, deliver you from, provide, and give you an answer to.
