Baptism today

Today I was baptized, and it only seems right that I share my testimony here.

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1. Why I Chose to be Baptized

I decided to be baptized to declare to the world that I believe that JESUS CHRIST is the SON of GOD, the only name in heaven and on earth by which we must be saved, and that HE is the only one Who deserves all glory, honor, adoration and praise. This is my testimony,

2. Who I was and why I wasn’t saved

1. I grew up in what we considered to be a Christian home. I didn't do drugs, I dressed fairly modestly, and went to church every week. I'd said the "prayer," I knew my Bible fairly well, and had all the good Christian answers. But I wasn't saved. And here's why:

2. Bad theology

1. I believed that I could be unsaved at any point in time. The concept of progressive sanctification was unknown to me.
2. I knew I was sinful, but the utter magnitude of how far I was from saving myself was something I hadn't even begun to grasp.
3. I was constantly searching for what I was missing. I knew something was missing from my salvation. I think I was driving my parents nuts, because they insisted I was saved.
4. I never understood how Jews and Romans killing JESUS saved me. It didn't make sense to me.
5. I only trusted the Old Testament, but the New Testament was something I did not trust. Therefore, the salvation represented in it was something I could not grasp.
6. And I thought the gospel, as it had been presented to me was merely the gateway into Christianity, which I then graduated from, upon salvation, to better and higher theological topic. The gospel was never central to me, and, in fact, it wasn't important to me. It was just a backup, "get out of jail free pass" in case I couldn't just make myself look good enough to GOD, and with the hope that JESUS would clean up my messes, while GOD would only look at my good stuff.

3. What changed?
1. I started coming here and sat under good theological teaching, and I had a mentor. Pastor's sermons gave me constant exposure to the full truth of the Gospel, and slowly, the HOLY SPIRIT began working in my heart.

2. Correct theology was one of the most important things for me. It really changed my life. Here's what changed.

1. I am now convinced of the divine inspiration of Scripture as being wholly and completely GOD breathed. Men wrote as they were led by the HOLY SPIRIT, and thus all of the Bible is the divinely inspired Word of GOD. This trust has led me to these following convictions, which I pray will continue to change my life throughout my life.
2. I am sinful, both in my human nature, and positionally, since Adam was my representative before GOD. Not only that, My heart is deceptively wicked, and it is a idol factory. There is nothing good in me, in and of myself. I am capable of any and every sin, and I am not better than any other sinner (though pride sometimes makes me feel like it).
3. The reason why CHRIST's death pays for my salvation is that, on the cross, GOD's justice against me was appeased because HE poured out on JESUS the fullness of HIS wrath against me. And now, I am covered in the righteousness of CHRIST, and am now positionally perfect in the sight of GOD, though the reality of my life has not yet been made perfect.
4. Salvation is not like a driver's license, which can be lost at any time for bad behavior. CHRIST died once and for all for all of my sin. I do not need to be judicially made right to GOD, but I am still accountable to HIM as HE is my LORD and MASTER. I will never have to stand before HIM, utterly condemned and accursed. My sin is removed from me as far as the East is from the West.
5. And the GOSPEL isn't just the moment of salvation, to be cast aside after I'm saved. It is the heart of all life.

3. This process was long. I prayed and wrestled with it for a long time. However, on August 9th, Sunday morning in church, I don't know how, but by the power of GOD, I realized that I was saved for all time. I was not condemned, not guilty, but instead, right before GOD. I don't know how it happened, but now I believe.

4. How does this salvation play out in my life?
1. I am assured of my salvation. I'm not searching for a way to be saved any more. While I still don't fully understand the full implications of the Gospel, I understand enough to be saved, and I hope to grow more in the knowledge of it every day.
2. I am seeking to grow in obedience and discipline. Sometimes I fall, sometimes I stand. But I keep growing. There's no turning back.
3. I now trust the Scriptures. That is something I haven't done since I was a child.
4. Apparently, according to my parents, I have a consistently better attitude at home now, too.
5. Now that I'm saved, I'm taking this step of obedience, and am openly asking for your prayers. I know I'm utterly sinful in my flesh, and every day is battle against my sin, but I'm taking this stand in obedience to CHRIST.

Living a double life on the Deaf and hearing fence

I wake up in the morning to the feeling of my alarm, shaking and vibrating my bed. I hear the low rumbling as I stagger from my bed to my alarm clock as I hit the snooze button. I'll probably hit it twice. I crawl back in bed in the eerie green glow from my alarm clock. Light highlights the cracks of my bedroom door. I know Mum and Dad are awake.

When I finally emerge from my room and bathroom, to our main family room, the room is bright; brighter than my almost pitch black bedroom. The constant noise of Mum and Dad's bathroom fan annoys me as I walk out of my room. It helps with their tinnitus, but it only annoys mine. My tinnitus isn't high; it sounds like someone shoved my head into a machine room where someone tossed a ton of rocks into the machines. When my ears ring I can almost feel them vibrating, like there's more sound coming from my head than there is going into my head. There is very little that can touch how low the humming is. Thankfully, I don't generally mind it. I don't even know how much I hear it, since it seems to be the backdrop of my world.

I'm greeted by my Mum and Dad with a cheerful good morning. I wander into the kitchen to use our keurig, and I listen to the sounds of the machine sputtering and spitting. The world sounds noisy to me, but apparently I'm missing quite a bit. Though, the spluttering sounds from the coffee maker and the whining, almost static of the bathroom fan don't really leave me with a desire to hear more. More noise just sounds annoying.

Throughout the day, I hear things dropped or moved. Dad talks to me. I crank my music up loud so I can enjoy it.  If I can't figure out where a sound is coming from, the cat probably knows, and if she's ok with it then it's probably nothing to worry about. Only occasionally do I have to ask Mum and Dad to repeat themselves, though this is occurring more often, and I struggle to hear anything outside of the room I'm in. But if you just met me and saw me in my home, you'd think I was normal.

But put me in a crowd or a group and everything changes. My eyes flit from face to face. I tilt my head to understand and hear better, and across my face spreads a half understanding smile. I can feel the pressure in my chest rising, as I beat down my frustration at being pushed out of a conversation by other people. Their words jumble off their lips like marbles, as I switch from looking at one face and mouth to the next. I catch a sentence here and there. Words flutter past, some clearer than others. The more people, the more I can't understand. And the further away they are, or the louder the crowd, or the more people in the group, the more they just blend into the backdrop of static and murmuring. I look away and I understand nothing. It's amazing how much my eyes play into how much I understand of what is said. And I feel alone in a crowd, often times of people I love.

But then I go to a Deaf event. I see hands flying. Facial expressions clarify the meanings of what is said. I don't have to struggle to hear what is said; I see it. If I ask for clarification, no one rolls their eyes or tells me to ask later. I have equal access to what is said, same as everyone else. And I watch as the hands of the signer across me flies in front of them, creating concepts and ideas and building pictures within the space in front of them as they tell stories, or relate their histories, or share their dreams for the future. My hands fly too, as I relate my stories, or my history, or my dreams, or whatever we are talking about at that instance. And all around me are people who understand what it's like to be left out, and willingly include me.

And I am caught in a place where I feel like I am neither Deaf, nor hearing, but am both. My day to day life I live in the hearing world with a hearing family. I am expected to act and speak in the norms of the society around me. But then, in those few precious hours when I am with the Deaf, I am free to act as Deaf. I am free to be Deaf and not play the role of being hearing. And I know then that I am Deaf. But when I leave, I am only hard of hearing, or hearing impaired, or at most, half Deaf; I'm expected to function as hearing as I possibly can. And I'm stuck in two worlds, two cultures, and it is a life that is very different from anything I ever dreamed I would have. And some days it is hard, and other days it is easier. But I never stop feeling this strain of being expected to be two things at once. 

Deaf children: Hearing world vs Deaf world

When my parents found out I was Deaf, there was a level of devastation and a level of denial that happened. In fact, I think there is still some denial, since I speak so well. My grandparents struggled with it, too, and still do. For a hearing family. a Deaf child is a tragedy. A broken child. One you struggle to connect with; a problem child.

Most hearing parents are devastated when they find out their child is Deaf. They go through the stages of grief. They try pretending nothing is wrong, and only a small number actually take steps to reach their child on the child's level, with sign language. Many, however, try to make their child "normal," by working on their speech and lip reading. And they continue grieving. A Deaf child is a tragedy in the hearing world.

But in the Deaf world, a Deaf child is a treasure. Deaf parents love both hearing and Deaf children, but their Deaf child has a special connection with them, because that child is part of the history and culture of the Deaf. It is that child's birthright. They can connect with their parents, their parents understand their struggles. They share a common bond. And when Deaf parents have a Deaf child, they celebrate. Here is a child that they can give all that they never had growing up but truly needed to help them grow and mature. Here is a child that can take a place in the heritage of the Deaf who have gone before them, and move forward with the Deaf into the future. To the Deaf, a hearing child is a dream come true.

Yes, Deaf will always love their hearing children. But there are things that hearing children go through that Deaf can't protect them from. Words are said that the Deaf parents can't hear but the children do. Things happen that the Deaf don't know about, but their hearing child does know about. And because we live in a society saturated in sound, it is harder to protect what our hearing children hear, than what our Deaf children see. Because we cannot hear what they hear, we cannot stop them from hearing what should not hear. But Deaf children our different; all that they have access to, we can access as well, and we can guard them against things that would hurt them. For us, Deaf children are treasured children, and very rare for us to have. Approximately 90% of Deaf children are born into hearing families. That means only 10% get to grow up in a Deaf home, with Deaf parents and Deaf siblings. And thus, not only are they treasured, but they are rare. 

Deafness and musicians

So, have I mentioned that I play the piano? Not perfectly, not by a long shot. But I've been teaching myself how to play. And I've really been enjoying it.

"But you're half Deaf? How can you play the piano??"

I'm so glad you asked. I can hear and feel it, because it's an acoustic piano. And I'm not the only person who is half or more Deaf who plays the piano. There are several who do.

Here's a young gentleman who is severely Deaf, blind, and has cerebral palsy. And he is an AMAZING pianist. He taught himself to play, and he is just fantastic. I really enjoy listening to this.

Now, why would a Deaf person want to play the piano? Well, for starters, how about the simple reason that we can? We can play, and it is actually quite enjoyable. We might not be able to experience it the same way you do, but we do enjoy it. And for me, it's to prove that I can, that my deafness doesn't limit me. I'm still capable of doing almost anything a hearing person can do. Plus, it's always fun to play in front of a hearing person and watch their jaws drop as we do what they can't think. That's always a bit of a confidence booster.

And no, I will not be posting a video of me playing the piano. At least, not yet. I need a lot more practice before I'll do that.

First Joining Deaf Culture, and Family Conflict

When I first found Deaf culture, it was a friend who introduced me to it. It was a Deaf event at a highschool, where I saw Deaf accepted as they are. I was literally in tears, watching as people told stories in ASL, sharing many experiences that were much like my own.  Because of the beauty of what I saw and for the first time, feeling like I wasn't the only one like me, I started learning ASL in the fall of 2014.

When I joined the class, we were assigned some books to read about Deaf culture, and as I read, I felt this amazing connection to the Deaf and Hard of Hearing in the stories. I was amazed. I thought I was the only one, but I'm not. And I started chasing after Deaf culture. It became an idol (something I still struggle with), and I began figuring out my Deaf identity.

All of this took place very rapidly, especially in the eyes of my parents. They watched as I changed from struggling to hear and trying to pretend I was like everyone else, to accepting the norms of Deaf culture and telling them what it was really like for me. They watched as I chased after Deaf culture and they became afraid.

I was entering a world neither of them knew. I was entering a culture with norms that hearing culture doesn't accept. I was fighting to find an identity that was reshaping who they knew me to be. I was standing up for rights, demanding equal access for the first time, and they had no idea what to do. For the first time, I let no one call me broken. For the first time, I let everyone see the Deaf side of me, instead of pretending to be hearing. And much of this change took place in a matter of a few months.

And we fought. How we fought. They thought, in some ways, Deaf meant inferior. That a Deaf person couldn't have a high ranking job. They thought that I would have nothing in common with Deaf because I had learned so much from hearing culture. And they were scared of how rapidly I was changing.

To be fair, I don't change quickly as a general rule. I think and ponder for months, slowly deciding and weighing options. I often remember things from months ago and bring them up in conversation. I don't often change quickly. But when I saw Deaf culture, I did change very quickly. And this rapid change would scare any parent, but even more so with me entering a culture they virtually nothing about.

And I was scared, too. I was afraid, entering a world about which, I knew nothing, either. But I knew that I wanted a place where I wasn't excluded from conversation, where I didn't feel ashamed of  having to say "what?" over and over again. I wanted a world where I was normal and accepted, not that token friend people wanted to have to show that they weren't biased, or to feel like a novelty in a group of people. I was tired of sitting on the outskirts of conversation, being left out, and having to stare at my plate at big family dinners because I was missing much of what was going on. So my longing to not be left out overcame my fear of the unknown. My parents did not have that same desire to overcome their fears.

So how do I balance their need for assurance that I am still me, still their daughter, and that they will always have me, while still reaching out for my place in Deaf culture, where I'm not an outcast, or a novelty people bring up in conversation?  It is not easy. With at least three grandparents in the medical field, and other family members who were connected with the medical community in the past, we all grew up, me included, with the medical perspective that Deaf means broken, or inferior. We were all generally unconnected from the Deaf community until I entered ASL classes. This was, and still very much is, entirely new, uncharted territory for us, that no one else in my family has ever fully explored like I am doing now. It's new, it's scary, and it takes courage.  And some of my family will never even try to understand. But for me, I truly want my parents to understand, because they are the two people on earth who are closest to me. And to fix all the conflict, there is no simple, easy answer. It's a tough situation, where no one but GOD has all the answers. I certainly don't. 

Deaf Community Vs. Hearing Community: Maybe they don't have to be at war

I've said before that between the Deaf community and the hearing community, I'm in two cultures. It's a very difficult position to be in at times.

You might ask, why? Why is it difficult? You have both communities. You are generally accepted in both. Why is it hard?

It's hard because, while I am generally accepted in both, the two cultures aren't always accepting of each other as a place where they think that I should spend most of my time. And the norms in one culture are not always acceptable in another. And the strange thing is, both cultures are pulling at me to be fully immersed in them, with only a little time spent in the other.

For example, most Deaf don't live with their parents like I do. They leave to establish their independence and to help affirm their Deaf identity. In a few cases, they are almost totally separated from their families, because the lines of communication have dropped. And they don't understand why I still go to a hearing church, even though I'm establishing my Deaf identity in the Deaf community.

And part of my hearing family is afraid of 'resigning' me to the Deaf community, afraid that the Deaf community will hold me back. They're afraid of the unknown. They are afraid of the cultural differences. And they want to tie me to the hearing world, afraid that they will lose me.

This leaves me in an awkward place to stand. Both communities wish me to be tied to them, almost exclusively, ignoring the opposite communities. This leads to needing much wisdom for balancing these two very different cultures. 

I love my Deaf community. I truly do. They are amazing people. They are so welcoming, so friendly, and so ready to open up the doors of communication that are often so hard for me to open on my own. I love seeing sermons in ASL from my fantastic Deaf pastor, and seeing how they apply Scripture to their lives, and growing in my different relationships with the Deaf there. And my Deaf church is becoming a second family to me. But I also love my hearing community that doesn't quite understand me, but many of whom try their best to understand me. I love the fellowship with other believers at my church (when I can hear them), and sitting under the teaching of the godly pastor of my hearing church on Sundays. And I treasure sitting under the mentorship of the godly women in my hearing church. 

And I sit here with these two cultures, one in each hand, and I see that I have been given these communities from the hand of GOD. And though they war against each other, they are not mine from man, but mine from GOD. I have been put in this position for a purpose that I can't comprehend, but that GOD will use for HIS glory. And I am not willing that I should lose either. My personal life cannot be relegated solely to one or the other. I cannot say that I will only go to a Deaf church and Deaf social events, because I love the people in my hearing church who have become so precious to me. But neither can I ignore the fact that my Deaf community has so much to offer, and that it has become a community that is also very precious to me. It is a place where all my oddities that come from being Deaf, all my differences, are accepted and even reflected back to me by the other Deaf. It is a place with open access to me, where I'm not excluded, but am accepted with open arms (sometimes, quite literally).  It is where I share so many experiences with other Deaf, and am encouraged by them.

But how do I tell both sides that I can't let go of either of them? Some understand, but others cannot comprehend this delicate balancing act. And switching between the cultural norms is really, truly hard. Some things that are not appropriate in hearing culture are fully accepted in Deaf culture, but in Deaf culture there are things that are that are not appropriate that are commonplace in hearing culture. And as I enjoy the precious treasures of both cultures, I also feel the strain of having to change my behavior to fit the norms of both cultures. Sometimes I don't succeed at fitting into the culture that I'm in and it can turn out quite badly.

In the end, it is truly a struggle, but the cost is worth having so many precious people in my life. And sometimes it hurts when these people don't understand each other, and there is conflict with how they want me to view the other culture. But I gladly pay the price, because this is where I have been placed, and this is where I need to be. But I will always need prayer to walk this line, because it is far from easy. 

Deafer than I am

Ok, confession time; I'm not always as deaf as I seem to be with people I've just met. Yes, I do pretend to be more deaf than I am sometimes, especially with strangers. There are also other people who do the same thing, too when they're hard of hearing. It's actually really hard not to do it.

So what do I mean by pretending to be more Deaf than I am? Well, here's an example; I'm in the store and a worker walks up to me and says something that really sounds far away or quiet enough that I'm almost not hearing it. Now, most people respond normally, but for me, I automatically ask them to repeat themselves, explaining that I'm half Deaf. I did hear them, and I also understood them. However, I'm not trying to deceive them about what I can or cannot hear. I'm not trying to be dishonest, but am actually doing this for a very good reason.

Why do I sometimes pretend to be deafer than I am? Short answer: so other people don't get mad at me. It sounds counterintuitive, but it actually is a very good way to manage other people's understanding of how much I can hear. You see, most people who aren't around Deaf or Hard of Hearing typically see deafness as a black and white issue. You are either hearing or you are deaf. No gray area for them. And that actually is about as far from the truth as you can get. Deafness can manifest itself in so many ways that you have to approach each individual as having their own type of deafness. They might not hear low sounds, they might not hear high sounds, they might not hear speech but the rest of their hearing is fine, they might have tinnitus which drowns out sound, they might have one perfect ear and one bad ear, etc. There is no single type of deafness. And most people don't get this.

Not only that, deafness is a hidden difference. We don't walk around with big signs that say, "Hi, I'm Deaf (or Hard of Hearing). If I don't respond, I'm not hearing you." Instead, if we miss something, it just comes off as rude, because people think we're ignoring them on purpose, which is generally not the case at all.

And here is where pretending to be deafer than I am comes in. When I ask people to repeat themselves when they are almost out of my hearing range, or are just within my hearing range, I'm helping them understand from the start that that area of their speech might not always be something I can hear. I'm setting up for them the expectation that I am not always going to hear them. So if I miss something, they don't yell at me for ignoring them, or think I'm being a jerk. I've already established a baseline with them that I do struggle to hear.

Now, is this deceptive? Well, that is a very good question. And I honestly don't know. I use it as a tool to show people that I struggle to hear, but my intention is not to deceive. There have been a few occasions where people have thought I hear nothing without my hearing aids, and they were scary enough that I didn't really feel up to the task of correcting their misassumption, and in fact, I rather capitalized on that assumption to keep from having to try to understand them in spoken conversation. However, that is very rare.

But that is the struggle of every Hard of Hearing person. We're not fully Deaf, and we're not hearing. And in order to ensure that we aren't seen as jerks, or to ensure that we don't get yelled at by someone who thinks we're ignoring someone else, we try to establish early on that we don't hear well. I've actually almost gotten in big trouble with a very big, very angry black man who happened to be up in arms about me supposedly ignoring a very lovely black lady behind me, who was practically whispering for me to please move so she could get through. I'm very lucky all he did was yell at me to move. (In case you were wondering, I had no idea she was behind me, and the moment I knew she wanted through, I happily moved out of her way.)  And that's why we manage expectations of how much we can hear. Because we've all had a situation where we missed something and it either could have turned out to be very bad for us, or did turn out to be very bad for us, and we never want that to happen again. It's a form of self-protection.