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02/15/2013

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Strong Enough to Say I Need You

I overheard a conversation in a bookstore about how someone was “so sick of those stories about girls who are just waiting to be rescued.” (Side Note: Seriously, when was the last time you read one of those stories? I’m pretty sure they’ve died out over the last thirty years or so. But I digress…) So, the woman at the desk recommended a book with a strong, female character who is a real inspiration. And when she announced the title, I nearly gagged.

Why? Because I read the book, and the only thing the main character inspired in me was a few negative feelings. So why did I bother finishing the book? Now, that’s a fair question I’ve even asked myself a few times. I guess I was hoping this bitter, sadistic character would transform into the heroine the reviews promised me.

There was enough back story for me to understand her lone ranger mentality, so I was waiting for her to overcome it. And I waited and waited and waited for nearly 500 pages. What a letdown. It reminded me of the humorous quote from the movie Picture Perfect: “Her character never grows, Alan. I need growth!”

I have a hard time understanding why anyone would sing the praises of a character who is broken and bitter and trusts no one but herself. That’s not strength; that’s arrogance.

Want to meet a strong character? Watch a wallflower become a queen in Rae Carson’s Girl of Fire and Thorns. Follow her through The Crown of Embers where our once-timid, uncertain heroine makes the strongest declaration of all. There comes a scene when she looks into the eyes of the man who has been her strength while she has yet to find her own and says, “What I did was weak. Cowardly. Unqueenly… and you were right. About everything. I do have power. Enough that I don’t need you. But I will miss you awfully.”

And. My. Heart. Melts.

Because strength is not believing you can take on the world by yourself; strength is realizing you are capable, but admitting your dependence on someone else.

I believe there’s a lot to be learned in the crafting of novels (because if I didn’t, the last year of my life would be a total waste). As I read and research and discover what creates a strong, female character—as I mold my Genevieve into someone whom I hope is both believable and inspiring—I’m learning to become that kind of character myself. I’m learning to say, “Hey, you know, I was wrong and, um, I need you.”

Yeah, I’m still working on the delivery. Because it’s amazing how such simple words can be your undoing.

But I want to be strong enough to say that I need you. Strong enough to admit that I was wrong. Strong enough to know what I am capable of on my own… and choose not to do it on my own after all.

I want to be strong enough to depend on someone other than myself. Strong enough to trust another human being with the fragile pieces of my heart.

I want to be strong enough to grow—because we all need growth—no matter how painful and difficult and terrifying that growth may be.

I want to be strong enough. Just strong enough…

And so I set out on this journey of becoming.

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Rebekah Roper

Posted on

02/08/2013

Posted under

Getting Honest

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Bleeding Hearts and Useless Words

There’s a word that keeps resurfacing in my prayer journal—an adjective I keep using to describe my heart.

Bleeding.

My heart is bleeding. Cracked. Broken. Rubbed raw and aching with the harsh realities of life.

Some of it is my fault—decisions I have made, bitterness I have harbored. But some of it… Some of it is completely out of my control. The only contribution I made to that pain was deciding to love too deeply, but I promised myself long ago that I’d never apologize for that.

So here I stand.

Bleeding.

Which is why I’ve been silent here of late. The words have slipped right through the cracks in my spirit. And I’m laughing to think that I had all the answers right up until it came time to use them, which makes me wonder if perhaps they weren’t the right answers after all.

Because when your heart rumbles and shudders with the force of an earthquake and your soul rips apart at the seams, you find that answers aren’t a strong enough foundation for the process of rebuilding your life.

So what is? What remains when everything else lies in ruins?

It’s simple, really. Simple and short and perhaps a bit cliche:

When answers fail—when words are rendered worthless—love remains.

…Which is a difficult concept for a writer to wrap her mind around. You see, words are pretty much my life. I live off them and in them and for them. I’ve read as many as fourteen novels in a single month and still didn’t get my fill of them. Words. Piles and piles of words.

I’ve never believed in letters that don’t wrap around from front to back. I’ve never learned to stay within the margins of my pages. And when I’m broken, I resort to poetry and prose.

But I realized just the other day that I often fill the silences with fluff as if I’m afraid of fresh, white pages. I realized just now that I craft entire paragraphs when only one sentence is needed. And maybe the message I’m trying to get across is found somewhere in that 500-word-essay, but there’s a chance it got lost amidst all the scribbles in the margins. And after all my assurances, condolences, and cliches, you still stand there. Bleeding.

Because I gave you pages of poetry when all you needed was a simple confession.

“I know that you’re broken. I’m broken, too. But I’m okay to be broken for you.”

Maybe all I needed to say was, “I love you.”
As cliche as that sounds, I love you.
Forever.
For always.
Yes, even in this.

Or maybe I don’t need to say anything at all.

Yes, I think for now I’ll just remain silent and bleed right along with you.

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Rebekah Roper

Posted on

01/28/2013

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Getting Honest

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Needing to be Found

“I want to believe the stories, that there really is someone who would search the whole mountainside just to find that one lost thing that he loves, and bring it home.”

These words, penned by Sara Zarr, have stirred in my heart for the past week. Because I just read a novel about a girl who lost her faith only to find it again. Only to let herself be found. And while I’ve never really doubted the fact that there is Someone out there who would search the whole mountainside, I’ve definitely been in the place of needing to be found.

To be perfectly honest, I find (pun intended) myself in that place more often than I’d like. Curled up on the side of a mountain, waiting for rescue because I can’t remember my way home from here. So here’s my confession:

Sometimes I say I’m okay when really I’m not.
Sometimes I pretend to have everything under control when, in reality, I’m in control of nothing.
Sometimes I smile like nothing in the world is the matter when on the inside I’m falling apart.
Sometimes I force myself to find words when the words are slow in coming.
Sometimes I just need to be found.
Sometimes we all just need to be found.

And maybe… Maybe you’re in the place where you really want to believe the stories. That there really is someone who would search the whole mountainside just to find that one lost thing that he loves, and bring it home.

The stories are true. They are more than true. So hold on, dear child, hold on. Though the storms of life are raging outside the little crevice you’ve tucked yourself into, the Shepherd is on His way. He’s searching the mountainside and it won’t be long until He finds you—that one lost thing that He loves—and brings you home.

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Rebekah Roper

Posted on

01/25/2013

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Uncategorized

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Fall for Him ~ A Book Review

Up until about a month ago, I had never been asked to write a book review. But when I got an email from Brenda Rogers asking if I would look over her e-book, I couldn’t refuse. Especially when I hopped over to check out her book website and found the words, “You do not have to recover from singleness. There is a better way.”

Yep. Hooked.

So I told Brenda to send me the book. After all, it’s only natural for an author to be curious about someone who wrote about the same subject from a completely different angle. …And that’s where the whole review thing got hard. Not because I didn’t agree with what she was saying, but because I couldn’t relate with what she was saying.

The subtitle should have given it away. Fall for Him: 25 Challenges from a Recovering Single. I am not—and have never been—a recovering single. There are girls who say, “Woe is me. I’ll never find Mr. Right. Just call me an old maid.” And then there are girls who are all like, “Whoo! I’m single! Footloose and fancy-free, that’s me.” *happy dance*

Now, those are two extremes, but on a scale of Sobbing to Celebrating, I’m doing a moonwalk on the C. I’m happy with my life as it is. I’m truly content to be single until God brings the right man into my life. And if that’s where you are, then this book isn’t for you.

But… what I saw in this book is a lot of what I was seeing when I decided to write Beyond Waiting. Because there are girls who struggle with their singleness. There are women who are struggling to find contentment regardless of their relationship status. And Brenda does a better job connecting with them than I ever could, because Brenda lived there. Brenda knows what it is to long for marriage more than she longs for her Savior.

And while Fall for Him was written for a woman much different than me, I was still able to pull out a few very profound truths.

Like, Brenda rocks that verse about God giving you the desires of your heart.

She reminds us that, marriage and talents aside, our only true calling is to bring glory to God…

And that community is essential to any human being…

That “shame is not present in holiness”…

And (preach it, sister) there is more to being equally yoked than just being saved.

So if singleness is a struggle for you, I’d encourage you to check out Brenda’s book. It may just change your outlook on life as you know it.

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Rebekah Roper

Posted on

01/21/2013

Posted under

Live the Journey

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Taking That Step

Once upon a time, a little girl went rock climbing. She was all of maybe ten years old and the climbing wall at the museum didn’t look so threatening in the face of the dirt cliff she scaled on a regular basis. In fact, the climbing wasn’t hard in the least, and when she reached the top she could have stayed there looking down at the crowd of people forever… because the only way down was to jump.

I remember that moment clearly—wondering why I couldn’t simply climb back down the wall, retracing my steps and placing my weight where I could trust it, rather than dangling at the end of a rope high above the museum floor. Because I could have done that. I gladly would have done that. But no, they wanted me to step out over that ledge and simply hope for the best, and I’m sure you understand why I wasn’t really comfortable with that.

“Rebekah, I’ve got you,” my dad said, drawing my attention to where he sat at the other end of my rope and causing me to wonder how he could have so much faith in this system. “Just step out. Let go.”

I shook my head and backed away from the ledge. From the fear. From the unknown.

Sometimes I doubt my Father. And I’m not talking about the one who sat at the end of my rope that day (though I surely doubted him in that moment). I’m talking about the One who has been holding my rope since the day He first designed to set me on this planet.

The other day I had one of those moments where I was really questioning the sanity of God’s plan for my life. It was just another one of those days when I was looking at the path before me and thinking that there is surely a better way. So there I was, trying to rearrange the details of my life, when I heard God whisper, “Rebekah, have I not been faithful?”

Ugh.

“Then why are you considering this? Why do you doubt?”

Well, I guess it’s because this past year has been a bit of a rock climbing experience for me. Scaling the wall wasn’t difficult at all, but I’m still standing here trying to muster the courage to jump. I’ve realized how often I’m tempted to reach for those familiar footholds. To navigate life on my own. But all the while, God is asking me to jump. And I’m standing there shaking my head and shouting, “Are you crazy?”

“Rebekah, I’ve got you,” God promises. “Just step out. Let go.”

You know, I don’t really remember what took place that day at the museum. I’m not sure if I finally took that step on my own or if my dad gave a gentle tug on the rope, sweeping my feet out from under me and leaving me with no other choice (he at least threatened to do just that, because that image stands out in my mind like an actual memory would). I do remember not falling to my death. And I even remember thinking that (dare I confess this?) the ride down was actually kind of fun.

I also know that I’m standing here today, faced with the same choice. And, you know, I’m thinking it might be best to simply close my eyes, take a deep breath, and step out into the expanse before me.

Ready. Set. Go.

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Rebekah Roper

Posted on

01/14/2013

Posted under

Getting Honest

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Living For You

Sometimes I find some really cool quotes on the internet, and sometimes I find not-so-cool quotes on the internet. Like, I was on pinterest the other day (that’s how all great stories start nowadays) and I found this quote that says, “You can’t live your life for other people. You’ve got to do what’s right for you, even if it hurts some people you love.”

Of course the person that pinned it thought this was the best advice ever, but I was like, “No. No, no, no.” Because that’s some of the most selfish and horrible advice I’ve ever heard. In fact, I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that basically all of the atrocious sins that are committed in this world are committed by people who live as if that statement were true.

And, yes, sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. You’ll have to tell people “no” and chase a dream that they never believed in. But that doesn’t mean you can stop living life for other people. That doesn’t give you the right to hurt someone you love.

When Jesus came to earth, He didn’t do what was right for Him. He lived His life for other people. He gave His life for other people. And if Jesus is the ultimate example of how we should live… Well, I think it’s safe to say we should turn this quote into ashes.

Life isn’t worth living if I’m only living for me. And though I’m selfish by nature and sometimes horribly fail at living for others, I at least want to be able to say that I tried. Because the worst thing I could possibly do is hurt someone that I love.

And once upon a time I started writing for me, but I like to think that the reason this blog has lived for so long—the reason I keep coming back two times a week to share words I didn’t know I had until they started flowing from my fingertips—is because there was a shift in my perspective. Somewhere along this two and a half year blogging journey, I started writing for you. I started realizing that my words carried enough weight in your lives that you kept coming back for more. That’s why I write here even though there are a hundred other things I could be doing. Even though all I ever wanted to do was write fiction.

I have a responsibility to you. This part of my life was meant to be lived for you. And even when I feel like I’d rather be submerged in a fantastical land with wars and prophecies and a curse that is about to be broken, I keep coming back for you. Because you’re worth it.

So in case you were wondering, I’m done living for me. I’m living for God. I’m living for you. And I’m living the moments as they come. And in fully surrendering me, I’m living free.

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Rebekah Roper

Posted on

01/10/2013

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Things That Inspire

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Start Writing Now

I should have known I was going to be a writer by the way I invented a desk of stacked storage containers and covered its surface with pages of scribbles because my fingers hadn’t yet learned to form words.

I should have known I was going to be a storyteller by the way my dollhouse characters had histories and futures that were ever so clear in my mind.

I should have known. The signs were all there. But if you had asked me as a child what I was going to be when I grew up, I would have told you I’d be a mother and a missionary, but never would I talk about those stories that were engrained in my heart. They were as much a part of me as the wave in my hair and the gold fleck in my eye. Maybe that’s why I never noticed their significance. Because they had been there all along. All my life, my imagination ran wild with story after story after story.

I wrote my first book when I was perhaps nine years old. It was a horrible collection of short stories that my family still laughs about to this day. I’ve often wished I could burn it, but since I haven’t yet discovered how to erase certain memories from the minds of my family members, I elected to let the horrid creation live. Besides, it’s a reminder that before I even realized I was called to write, my fingers were doing what came naturally to me—filling pages with words.

That’s where all writers must begin. With words—your own words. If you want to be a writer, stop reading all the advice. Stop worrying that you’re not going about it the proper way. There is no proper way. Just do whatever works best for you.

Don’t worry about the critics, don’t obsess over “making it” in the writing world, and know that your validation as a writer does not come in publication. Seeing the finished product is a beautiful thing, but it is not the only thing. I was a writer long before I held Beyond Waiting in my hands.

I’d have given up long ago if I chose to believe the people who told me I’ll never make it in the “real” world. Writing would lose its worth if I allowed myself to be convinced that stories aren’t necessary and I should write the truth as cold, hard facts—if I listened to those people who tell me to dream in black and white when my heart is pounding with deep purples and vibrant yellows.

Let me tell you, if you don’t believe that stories tell truths, you haven’t heard Brodi Ashton’s definition of the word “redemption.” You haven’t found hope in Laini Taylor’s hands. And you have yet to let Jennifer Donnelly’s Revolution take place inside of you.

And that’s the key to succeeding in writing: to believe in what you do. If your heart is fully invested in the words you’re spilling onto the page, no one can take that from you. The way to press on through the hard days is to know that you know that you know that you are called to this. You were made for this. And the words that are in your heart were meant for being shared, even if only a few ever read them.

This blog is a part of the Start Writing Now Synchroblog at Devotional Diva.

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Rebekah Roper

Posted on

01/07/2013

Posted under

Fairytale Fallacies

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The Line of Compromise

If you ever want to render your mother speechless, ask her how she knew your dad was “the one.” Ask her how she knew—even realizing that he had habits and tendencies that would drive her absolutely crazy—that she could spend the rest of her life loving this flawed human being. Go ahead and ask her. If she’s anything like my mom, she’ll open her mouth at least a half dozen times before she finally forces out, “Well…”

But, you see, I had to know. I had to know because a few weeks ago, Cassi Clerget wrote the most beautiful letter to her future husband and, in light of her confession that she’s not ready to meet him yet—that she’s afraid of who she might become and what she might try to make him become—I had a startling realization of my own.

When I envision my future husband, I don’t picture him with flaws. It’s not like I don’t know he will have flaws, it’s just that I never really thought of what they might be. On those days that I sit down and dream about who my future husband might be, I tend to imagine that he looks something like James Garner (or Rock Hudson—I’d totally settle for Rock Hudson) and he’s patient and gentle and loving and… well, he’s perfect, actually. Nothing less than perfect.

And to be honest, that’s not really fair to him. Because no matter what he is in my fantasies, he’s human (just like I am) and he’s going to have flaws (just like I do). Or, as a friend of mine so eloquently stated when talking about his own dating relationship, “She’s got so many things going for her, and yet she likes Twilight.” Well, I’m not sure that’s a deal breaker (though another friend jokingly advised him to “dump her now”), but it does make me wonder about the line of compromise.

You’ve been told not to compromise in relationships? That’s funny, I grew up hearing the same thing. But when I look at it realistically, I find that there is going to be compromise. Let’s face it. They don’t make guys like James Garner anymore. Nobody’s perfect. And if I spend the rest of my life holding out for that flawless character I’ve created in my mind… well, I’ll spend the rest of my life holding out for that flawless character I’ve created in my mind.

So what I asked my mom on that infamous day she struggled for answers is, “How do you know? How do you know where to draw the line? At what point do you accept that a guy is flawed and human and at what point do you hold out for someone better?”

Because, thanks to Cassi and her beautiful, vulnerable heart, I’m left wondering if I’d force my guy to be something more than he was meant to be. I’m left hoping I’ll never settle for someone who is close to good enough only to live the rest of my life wondering if there was something better. I’m left pondering a question my mom couldn’t answer.

How will I know?
How will I keep from demanding too much or expecting too little?
And more importantly, how shall I live in the meantime?

Posted by

Rebekah Roper

Posted on

01/04/2013

Posted under

Love Letters

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Undone

A friend of mine was recently talking about his strained relationship with his mother. He laughed because some of the things she said were so ridiculous. Absolutely and utterly horrible, but completely ridiculous. And I was glad he could laugh. Truly. Because sometimes the laughter is the only thing that keeps us from tears.

There are too many broken families in this world. Too many children who don’t know what it is to have both a mother and a father. Too many kids who don’t know what it is to love and be loved in return.

In a world like this, sometimes I find it hard to hold onto hope. I find it hard to believe that happy endings could ever come from the ashes of these relationships. Sometimes I set the fairytales aside and allow my heart to become a little cynical. To stop believing that hope makes its own magic and that we can walk through trials and pain and be better off for it when we finally reach the other side.

The word that echoes in my mind is “Undone.” When I think of love and heartache, a quote from Jennifer Donnelly’s Revolution pounds in my brain:

“I am not afraid of beatings or blood anymore. I’m not afraid of guards or guillotines.
“There is only one thing I fear now—love.
“For I have seen it and I have felt it and I know that it is love, not death, that undoes us.”

And when I read that quote, I can’t help but think that maybe it is best to be undone. Maybe it’s best to love and receive nothing in response than to allow our hearts to be clouded by hatred, or worse yet, that cold sense of unfeeling.

Maybe it’s best to learn the same lesson that Jennifer Donnelly’s character learns. When confronted with how her actions have led to nothing but her own demise—when reminded that the world has not changed for the better on account of her sacrifice—she responds:

“The world goes on stupid and brutal, but I do not. Can’t you see. I do not.”

Though my world goes on, stupid and brutal as before, I do not. I choose love. I choose to be undone.

Because I’ve always had a penchant for fairytales. I’ve always been fascinated by words like “hope” and “love” and “wonder.” I still choose to believe in beauty from ashes. I think my friend does, too.

And while it breaks my heart to think of how his mother’s words must hurt him, the person I feel most sorry for is his mom. Because she doesn’t know what she’s missing. She can’t know. Or she never would have told him goodbye. She’s the one who is suffering. She’s the one who goes on stupid and brutal. But my friend… he does not. Can’t you see? He does not.

And I hope, when it comes down to it, you would choose to be undone. You would choose not to be stupid and brutal as the world would have you.

I hope you’ll find that love is always worth it.
And that hope will ring true.
Because we all need something to believe in.
And we all need to be believed in.
And on this day that I come undone…
I choose to believe in you.

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