Donald Trump: I don't like you. But I choose to love you.

Dear Mr. Trump,

I really, really don't like you. Your misogynistic, racist, abelist, and xenophobic rhetoric breaks my heart. Every time you hideously degrade women, call Mexican immigrants a "disease," talk about building a freaking wall, and support KKK white supremacists, my blood boils. 

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But yesterday I got punched in the stomach with a hard truth: God loves Donald Trump. He died on the cross for Donald Trump's sins. Donald Trump is a beloved child of God. 

WHAT. 
This is where Christianity gets hard, friends. I don't want to "love" Donald Trump. I want to hate him. 

Matthew 5:43-47
"You have heard that was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?" 

People of God, love your enemies. Ladies, love Donald Trump. African Americans and Latinos, love Donald Trump. Immigrants, love Donald Trump. 

I want to clarify here, this does not mean to support Mr. Trump's policies, actions, and words. It does not mean to vote for him and condone his behavior. Do not love how he speaks adn acts. Distinguish between what the world's definition of love is with what God's definition of love is. 

Pray for Donald Trump. Pray that God will touch his heart.
Do not cruelly belittle him, for isn't that doing the same thing to him as he is doing to others? 

You don't have to like Donald Trump. I sure don't. But you do need to love him as the child of God that is truly is. 

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And friends, you may be worried about this election. But remember who our God is. Remember that He is so much bigger than Hillary Clinton, Donald Trump, and e-mail scandals. 
Children of God, don't be afraid. Do not let fear of the unknown steal the joy that is yours. 

Do not worry because worry fails to see God's character and faithfulness. 

Philippians 4:6-7
"Do not be anxious about anything. But in everything, with prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace that surpasses all understanding will guide your hearts and minds in Jesus Christ." 

Do not worry. Pray. Pray for Donald Trump. Love him as God loves you. Don't let your untamed worry and fear turn into hatred for Donald Trump on anyone else. 

Remember the great faithfulness and power of our God. Love because you too have been so loved.

Until next time, my friends. Go, pray, and, love. 

Objectified

Have you ever been cat called? I have. 

I know I should be offended by it. I know I should be outraged and disgusted. But to be honest, there is always a little part of me deep down inside that is flattered. Why? Because it makes me feel pretty. And valuable. 

OK. Valuable? Really? I'm getting my self-esteem and worth from some random guy whistling at me cause he thinks I have a nice face and whose motives behind his attention are probably less than honorable? That makes sense. 

And yet, it still affects me so profoundly. 

I know that I'm not only good for eye candy. After all, I am an image bearer of God, I am valuable, God has a holy and beautiful purpose for my life. But sadly to say, a lot of the time I don't get my value from God. Sometimes I get it from a guy who takes two seconds out of his day to whistle at me or say something provocative. 

Why?

I believe it is because our culture sexually objectifies women. 
What is sexual objectification? It is the "process of representing a person like a sex object, one that serves another's sexual pleasure" (Caroline Heldman). And as women, our world sexually objectifies us all the time. 

Take a few minutes to check out this video, featuring Caroline Heldman, who is a political science professor in Los Angeles: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMS4VJKekW8


I love this woman. I want to meet her. Actually, I want to be her.

In case you didn't actually watch the video,  here are some of my favorite points she makes:

1. Sexual objectification is about subjects and objects. Objects are always acted upon by subjects. So if you are the perfect "sex object," then you are always being acted upon, which means you have no real power. And often, men are being sold the idea that they are the subject, so they are the powerful one doing the acting. And women are sold the idea that they are sexual objects who need to obtain a certain image in order to be valuable. 
(I want to interject here and say that this argument is not saying that men are evil. I love men. However, it is saying that this idea is what society is telling our men they should be like and how they should view women)


2.  As mentioned above, women are led to believe that we need to be the perfect sex object. This is called self-objectification. Heldman brings up the concept of "habitual body monitoring." Ladies, you know what this is. We are constantly checking ourselves. Do we look good? Who sees me and is watching me? What does my hair look like? Are my clothes falling on my body correctly? Am I sucking in my stomach enough? Heldman says that, on average, women monitor the way they look every thirty seconds (that adds up to a massive chunk of our day!). 

3. When women view themselves as sexual objects, it creates conflict between other women. Heldman describes this as walking into a party full of other women and immediately ranking oneself on the "pretty girl pecking order." Isn't this true? We automatically rank ourselves against other women because we see "male attention as the holy grail of our existence...we compete with other women for self esteem....when another woman is viewed as a [better] sex object, it actually makes us feel bad about ourselves." 

I do this all the time. I am guilty of all these things. 
I don't find my value, worth, and beauty in the arms of my Savior. And it is so, so damaging. I focus my attention on all the attention I am not getting. I compare myself to other women. I tell myself I am not good enough, not pretty enough, and all together just not worth it. 

But, my beautiful friends, you are worth it. And I don't know how to convince you of that. I can recite to you Biblical truths and words of wisdom, but that is so hard to believe and take to heart when we are being bombarded on all sides by sexually objectifying images and messages. 
What you believe your value is can only be determined through a personal journey. I am not there yet. I don't know if I will ever be totally there. 
But, as always, all of my pain, insecurities, and lies I believe about myself are being redeemed. I am confident that God will use all this to teach me something. I just don't know what yet.

I want to leave you with an open ended quote. Take from it what you will. 

Can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?

Who were you before your beautiful mind was filled with photo-shopped images of perfect sex objects that you are supposed to look like? Who were you before all your attention was fixated on what you looked like and which boys were staring at you? 

Would you like to be that free again? I would. But I'm not really sure how. 

For now, it means falling at His feet and spilling out all my insecurities and pain. It means intentionally recognizing sexually objectified images and recognizing them as false and wrong. It means loving other women and fighting this battle with them instead of comparing yourself to them.

I hope these words have been encouraging. I hope, if nothing else, they create an awareness and thereby a sense of hope for you. 

Remember who you were. Remember who God says you are. 

Until next time, my beautiful friends. 

Round 4: Crooked.

As my dear friend and college roommate lovingly terms it, I have "curvy bones." For those who don't speak Betsy-Michaela lingo, that means I have scoliosis. 

It sounds scary, but it really isn't. 
Scoliosis is simply an abnormal curvature of the spine. It can be a common side affect of other more severe disorders, such as cerebral palsy and muscular dystrophy. But for me and the majority of other cases, scoliosis is idiopathic, which literally means "of unknown origin."

 Here is what my "curvy bones" look like. 

So how do you treat scoliosis?
A lot of the time, scoliosis is not severe. Typically if the degree of curvature is under 25 degrees, the condition will be monitored instead of treated. Mine, however, was of course over 25 degrees of curvature. Now if the curvature can be kept under 40 degrees by the time a person is done growing, her or she is out of danger of curvature progression have few lifelong side affects. But if for some reason the curve progresses to 40 degrees or above, no matter at what stage of growth you are at, the growth will progress. This is where it gets scary. If the curve increases too much, it can crush internal organs (pleasant, I know). In order to prevent organ crushing, spinal fusion is required. Spinal fusion is basically sticking a big metal rod in your back to keep your spine straight. 

So, needless to say, the curve will ideally stay below 40 degrees. My highest curvature measures were 29 lumbar (lower back) and 31 thoracic (chest area). That was a little scary...only 9 degrees from spinal fusion got me a little nervous.

In order to prevent my spine from progressing to 40 degrees, I got a back brace. Here is what it looked like. (pardon the high-school freshman me...)

That was my first brace. I actually had to end up getting a second one, and that one was pink. Here is a picture of me now (about four years later) wearing my pink brace. 

It hurt to put my brace on again. It hurt because my 19-year-old body is a lot different than my 14-year-old body. It also hurt to remember. 

Remembering sitting in class and not being able to focus because of the unbearable itch under my brace that there was no way I could reach.

Remembering how my brace could be seen through all of my clothes. 

Remembering how the back of my brace pushed my butt down into a funny shape. 

Remembering how it put holes in all my clothes. 

But, despite all the unpleasant memories, there are good ones too. Like laughing when my brother would punch my plastic encased torso in the school hallway and getting looks of horror from those passing by (I couldn't feel a thing, I promise)

Like a lot of things in life, that was not a fun time. But, my friends, it made me strong. It made me brave. It made me persevere. It made me so much more compassionate. It made me have cool conversations and do crazy things (like climbing a 13er. In a back brace. So proud.) 

Friends, life is hard. We live in a sinful world where spines are crooked, brains have chemical imbalances, hearts are broken, friends die, and evil seems so prevalent. However, our God is one who redeems. 

I am reminded of the story of Joseph and how God took something so evil and turned it into something so magnificent that ended up saving an entire ethnic population. Take a look at Genesis 50:20, which reads: "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives."

I have no idea if God will use my story to save lives (that'd be cool, but I'm not counting on it). However, I do know that God has redeemed me and will continue to do so. My life is all about bringing Him glory, so I can be confident that what He turns into good will end up being glorifying to Him. 

In this way, we can rejoice in suffering, like the Apostle Paul said. We will naturally undergo pain and suffering in this world, but it will all be redeemed for God's glory.

So continue to joyfully let God redeem you. Whatever battle you may be facing, have confidence in your forthcoming redemption. 

Go, live life, be redeemed, and thereby live your life in order bring glory and honor to the lover of your soul. 

Until next time, my friends. 

Round 3: Joyless, Beautiful Pain

Have you ever felt like you were living in a world of color, and everyone else was still living in gray?

That's how I felt after we got home from Singapore. Completely unsure of how to reconcile my time in Singapore with my return to a fast-paced, consumerist, and seemingly hollow American life. 

Of course, my life in America is not hollow. It is rich, full of fulfilling relationships and its own kind of growth and experiences. But it is hard for a 13-year-old brain to comprehend that.

I had been so excited to start public middle school, as I had only ever attended charter before. I had high hopes and dreams for how it would turn out.

It didn't turn out as I had hoped. 
For lack of a more mature word, it sucked. A lot. 

And the worst thing was, I had no idea why it was so hard. Nothing blatantly horrendous was happening to me. It was just hard. 

I remember crying in the bathroom at school, trying to muffle my sobs with my hands and closed mouth so no one in the surrounding stalls would hear me. 
I remember crying into my hands at lunch, pretending I was just yawning and rubbing my face.

I want to cry just thinking about it. 

To make a long story short (sort of), I left. I'm not usually a quitter, but I was just done. I literally could not handle it. 

And a few days later, to my great shame and embarrassment, I was diagnosed with clinical depression. Honestly, I'm still a little bit ashamed. 

"What is wrong with me? Why am I so screwed up? Medicate me? What will other people think?"

(To this day, even though I have often pondered how wrong the mental health stigma is in our society, I still allow myself to succumb to its unjust judgement.)

If you've ever been "depressed" (I hate that word), or just so at the end of yourself--broken and hurt--you know what I am talking about.

Hours and hours of crying. I can't stop. I don't know why. 
Weeping. Rocking back in forth, lying in fetal position, yearning for comfort that will stop the tears.
Not feeling. Not smiling. Not eating.
A cloud of sorrow.
Thoughts of death. Crying even more that I could even think that. 

"What is wrong with me? What is even happening?"

"He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

    he drew me out of deep waters.

17 

He rescued me from my powerful enemy,

    from my foes, who were too strong for me.

18 

They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

    but the Lord was my support.

19 

He brought me out into a spacious place;

    he rescued me because he delighted in me."

Psalm 18:16-19

I have a vivid memory of laying on my bed, sobbing. My mother, at her wits end, resorted to the one enduring truth that she knew--His words. I don't know how long she read those Psalms to me, but I remember them. I will always remember them. 

Joy comes in the morning. It does. 

And God redeems pain. 

He turns it into something beautiful. He did for me, despite how I didn't see or even anticipate it in the moment. As much as it hurt and tore at my soul, I am strangely thankful for my bout with joylessness. Because I am more able to feel others pain now. 

With redemption, my pain became so beautiful. 

Round 2: Singapore.

It's funny how much life can change in such a short amount of time.

I grew up in a home surrounded by little scraps and memories of my parent's past adventures of roaming around in Asia. My Father lived in China for a total of two and a half years, and my Mother for one of those years after they were married.

I have vivid childhood memories of sifting through boxes of Chinese souvenirs and other bits-and-bobs stored in our basement. I remember miniature Terra Cotta Warriors, dragon kites, Chinese baby clothes, sets of chopsticks, Mandarin characters, and much more.
I grew up fascinated with Asia and its culture, always feeling jealous when my Dad would fly off to some exotic Asian country for work and leave me at home.

But in 2009, I got my own piece of Asia. My father was up for sabbatical, and he decided to spend it abroad. So in the fall of 2009, we packed up and moved our family of six to a little bitty apartment at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore, Singapore.

We got to do some pretty cool stuff around Asia. Like travel to a total of six Asian countries. And ride elephants on Christmas Day. And visit a lot of crazy awesome temples. And meet some pretty swell people.

But despite all of my beloved adventures, that is not what this post is about. I am pretty dang blessed to have been able to travel around Asia so much, but cool stories and weird experiences are not the only things I gained.

In short, my experiences in Asia rocked my world. 

My experiences rocked my faith. 

Little thirteen-year-old me couldn't understand what I saw. Besides the typical teenage issues (am I pretty enough? Am I thin enough? Do I have worth?), my main struggle was this: How is it that those of other religions are so incredibly passionate and dedicated to their faith, when I and so many others Christians I knew don't seem to care much about our God and our faith?

What? 

I found myself wondering: "Is there a God, is He even real? If He is real, what does it mean to be a true Christian?" 

Singapore started a chain of events, events that forced me to exit my time as a child. I could honestly write an entire book on my time in Singapore. But for now, here is what Singapore was mostly about: Changing me. Changing my world view. Changing how I saw God. Changing my life.

Redeemed. Round 1.

Hi there!
Welcome to Redeemed.

 My name is Betsy, and to be perfectly honest, I've never had a blog before. 

I think the awkward middle-school me tried to create a blog--but that flopped after about two posts. So why now? Well, partially because I need a hobby. And also because one of my dearest friends has a killer blog that blows my mind every time I read it. But mostly, it is because I am a passionate, opinionated, and insecure college student who wants to share my joys, thoughts, and ideas with whomever will listen. So here it goes. 

Let's start a little over a month ago. 
I did something a little crazy. I got a tattoo. (gasp)

It is on the inside of my left ankle. It is really small, only about four inches in length. But it carries a wealth of meaning for me. 

In fact, at this point in my life, it encompasses nearly two decades of who I am. 

Nineteen years of ups, downs, tears, and smiles, all encompassed in one little permanent mark on the medial portion of my left ankle. 

But it is too long of a story just now, so I will leave you with this for the moment. My story of redemption includes a few life changing months living abroad, a frustrating and scary tussle with a crooked spine, a battle for joy, and the death of a friend. It also includes a lot of personal prayer as well as prayer for me, long conversations with mentors who have changed my life, and a lot of  hope in God's unfailing promises to redeem and renew me. 

I hope that you will keep reading. It is my hope that my stories and thoughts will shine a light to the one who is greater than I.

Until next time, my friends.