God and Boobs: Balancing Faith and Sexuality

AUTHOR

PREFACE

This is the book about God that religious people don't want you to read. Some argue it's anti-God because of a cover that displays a woman's bare back and the word boobs. But I know firsthand that religious opposition to a woman's sexuality is more intrinsic than a provocative book cover.

Religion is the cardinal barrier between faith and femininity. God created women, but religion is man-made—and by that, I do not mean people-made, but made specifically by men. Throughout my professional life counseling and teaching, I've learned that religion fears nothing more than a woman with a message from God. And so, I'm okay being rejected by religion. In fact, I think it's a really good sign. After reading this book, I hope you'll come to understand my point of view: God loves women but hates religion.

INTRO TO BOOBS

Boobs are a symbol of sexuality, fashioned by a God who created femininity in His image. By divine design, boobs rest high upon a woman's frame, inches below a sparkling smile. No matter their size, small or large, they cannot hide. They are in the spotlight. Bras and surgery can minimize or enlarge, flatten or lift their appearance, but they're still feminine. They won't be tucked away to hang low, hidden in trousers. Dress boobs in a tight, low-cut top or a loose turtleneck; they're still boobs, front and center. With good posture, shoulders back and chin up, boobs bravely lead the way into any room. Want a hug? Watch out for those boobs. Need to lift something from the floor? Better keep the girls in place, or they might wander off, seeking attention.

Every woman begins life with a pair of boobs. Few of us are satisfied with the ones we're given. Women don't need breasts to function or survive, but if we lose them, we mourn a very personal loss of femininity. A family member of mine had breast cancer surgery and got an implant immediately afterward, because she wanted to feel sexy for her husband. And yet, the cancer surgery hadn't altered her gender; she's a woman no matter what.

When I started telling friends and colleagues I was writing a book called God and Boobs, some women were appalled, while others just laughed. I'd hoped for the latter reaction, but never anticipated the outrage. Naturally, I had known the title would rattle a few religious cages. My grandmother took a deep breath before saying patiently, Okay, tell me why that's your title. My grandmother takes pause when she is filtering out her old, religious paradigms and opening herself to new ideas. Her reaction was more consistent with what I expected to encounter from others. I wasn't prepared for tears, or the silent treatment, or follow-up phone calls about what a horrible decision I was making. Not every reaction was extreme, but enough women were dismayed that it got me thinking, Should I change the title?

The women who were upset about my title (and it seemed to be only women getting upset) told me their reasons. One buxom friend said the title is offensive to women with her body type. She had no idea why God would create her so top-heavy. She felt embarrassed by a figure impossible to hide, and she had contemplated a breast reduction for years. She thought my book title would trivialize the shame women feel about big breasts and ultimately push them away from God.

Another woman blamed her petite frame and small breasts for years of male rejection. What does rejection have to do with God? she demanded. She told me that God doesn't care about a woman's figure but only who she is on the inside. She thought my title would send the message that women are trophies to acquire.

A few women, upon hearing about the book, had a glazed-over, watery look in their eyes. I knew their moms and friends had battled breast cancer. I wondered if the title reminded them of times they turned to God in mourning.

I learned that what makes me laugh also makes some women cry. Then, I kept the title, because these reactions, coming from women who share my faith in God, upheld my conviction that religion undermines a woman's sexuality and suppresses her femininity.

The truth is that there is nothing funny, humiliating or shameful about a woman's figure. We must embrace our sexuality, boobs and all, if we are to live by faith.

The canon of feminist ideologies essentially holds to the same principle at its core: Women should have the freedom to be fully female, to live up to their greatest potential, without restriction, without inequality and without shame. I believe that God, too, wants us to pursue our destiny without constraint. I believe God has wanted that for us all along.

The combination of faith and femininity is powerful. Women don't have to surrender one for the other. They can have both God and boobs—boobs that they accept as a real and symbolic part of their sexual nature. In fact, I believe it's better that way.

At the core of a female soul is the desire for God. In the precious moments when a woman pauses to contemplate pain, destiny and the meaning of life, her imagination wanders back to God. Is God there? Does God think of me? What does God think of me? Do I matter to God?

The quest for God transcends tradition, affecting all women. Modern women of diverse ages, races, political parties, faiths and cultures share a birthright: Women deserve to pursue their greatest potential. Unlike believers of past decades, women now commonly embrace organized religion without necessarily allowing religion to limit their decisions. They might search for God in their own way, perhaps dabbling in spirituality, mixing faith traditions or reading self-help books. Women have told me they pursue alternative paths to religion because they feel religion doesn't enhance their individual pursuits. They want God to be involved in their personal growth, inner healing and aspirations.

A family friend called me because of our shared belief in God. She told me how she wanted to get her life together spiritually. She seemed to have it all. She was a tall beauty, who traveled the world as a powerful business owner and lived with a handsome, successful man. With her life came busy-ness and preoccupation; she failed to notice God's constant nudge. Like a leaky faucet, God's urging would not cease: drip... drip... drip..., until she was finally ready to respond.

I'm reaching out to you because I need a friend, she told me. I don't know how to do this. Where do I begin? What does faith look like for me as a thirty-something, independent woman? How do I make space for God now that my life is so full, so developed?

I've asked myself the same questions. What does faith mean in the context of my modern life? How can faith help me pursue my greatest potential as a woman?

There's a seemingly holy trinity in my family: Grandfather, father and brother, all with the name Robert Schuller. They were the face of The Crystal Cathedral's Hour of Power broadcast, preaching sermons televised around the world. My grandfather created televangelism as we know it, at a time when viewers could only select programs from among three networks. In the United States, Hour of Power was the most watched religious program from 1972 until 2008. His program became the TV destination of choice for American families unable to make it to church on a given Sunday morning.

At its height in the 1980's, Hour of Power was watched by tens of millions each week, not just in the U.S., but worldwide. In fact, Neilsen and Arbitron rated Hour of Power the most watched religious program on the planet for decades. During the Cold War, Hour of Power became the only state-sanctioned foreign religious organization in Russia signed by President Mikhail Gorbachev. Hour of Power also established offices in Shanghai, Amsterdam, Moscow, Sydney, Auckland, Zurich, London, Stockholm, Vancouver and Hong Kong. I've visited some of these places. It felt incredible to see the legacy that my family's patriarch endeavored to build and leave behind.

The popularity of Hour of Power made celebrities of my grandfather and his protégé, my father. Nine of the combined fifty-four books they wrote became best-sellers and were translated into multiple languages. They promoted The Crystal Cathedral mantra of Possibility Thinking (a hybrid of faith and psychology) to sold-out stadium crowds. They appeared live on news broadcasts, offering religious commentary in reaction to world events. Adoring fans still stop them at the grocery store seeking a prayer, a blessing and an autograph.

And to think, it all started at a drive-in movie theater in 1955. My grandfather had left the Iowa farm of his childhood, attended seminary and then moved to Southern California to start a church. On weekdays, he went door-to-door and invited people to the weekend service. On Sundays, he would rent out the local drive-in movie theater and preach from atop the snack stand, while my grandmother played an organ affixed to a portable trailer. Some congregants would sit in lawn chairs, while others stayed in their cars. His service was dubbed the first Drive-in Church. My grandfather is not just a preacher; he is a farm boy who lived the American dream, becoming an icon of Christianity.

And so it was, I grew up a Schuller, the oldest child and grandchild of my generation. Though heir to this masculine dynasty, I'm of another fabric. Not only do I have a different first name, I also have boobs. That's the real dividing line—my gender. While I love the men in my life, we're designed differently. Femininity is the canvas upon which I experience faith, and so I balance my life accordingly. I accept both God and boobs. It isn't easy.

Rather than play down my femininity and finagle my way into the boys' club, I forged my own path in ministry. I wanted to build my career without nepotism, so I refused to work for the family business. Instead, I studied undergraduate theology and started working in another state. Almost as an afterthought, I pursued and completed a master's degree in Marriage and Family Therapy. While going to school, I became a professional singer so that I could pay for my education. It's inelegant to say, but my main motive for earning a counseling degree was, I didn't want to screw people up. I had seen far too many ministers seriously miss the mark when trying to help people. With counseling skills, I hoped I could avoid making the same harmful mistakes.

Later, I worked as the spiritual director of a Christian university. This position had always been reserved for a man—typically one in his mid-forties, with a wife and kids. I was a single woman, which was two strikes against me. Growing up, I never imagined a woman could hold a position of religious authority, become Spiritual Director, and oversee male and female chaplains, global missions, local community outreach and music ministry.

I have felt marginalized by religion in my life. As a child, my family passed the pulpit from father to son. As an adult, I struggled to climb ministry's version of a corporate ladder. Men are more frequently hired for ministry positions. As in corporate America, the men are paid higher salaries. Despite feeling excluded, I found my way. Eventually, I became an associate pastor at one of the largest and fastest growing churches in the country. You don't have to be a Christian to understand that I've done well as a modern woman in a male-dominated industry.

Yet, even though I've stood at some of the world's most powerful altars, I still feel marginalized by religion. And if I can stand at the heart of Christianity, with my background and experience, and still feel isolated, how must women feel who stand at the outskirts of faith?

Those years as a spiritual director and later as a pastor were spent in daily conversations with women about faith, sexuality, and their feminine nature. Some women approached me with traumatic wounds, while others were simply finding their way. Each woman had a unique story, but I heard echoes of the same desire: Women wanted to know God and to pursue their greatest potential. They wanted to have faith and still feel sexy, strong and self-aware. Many doubted that these goals were compatible, but I'm here to tell you that they are.

Young women talked to me as if they were opening up to a friend, rather than a religious authority. When appropriate, I shared my stories with them, too. When I struggled with their same doubts, I would say so. If I had overcome a similar trial, I would tell them how and what I learned about God in the process. We developed a camaraderie not found in traditional therapy, because it wasn't therapy so much as ministry.

Portions of their stories, and mine, live on in the pages of this book. With their permission, I've shared slivers of their lives as anecdotes within a larger discussion about God. The names and identities of the women in this book have been changed, with my family members being the only exception. I am inspired by their pursuit of faith and sexuality. I hope their courage will inspire other women to empower themselves sexually without losing their faith.

Many of the women I counseled experienced traumatic encounters with men, so I would be remiss not to clarify that relationships with men are often safe, healthy and loving. These women usually had other wonderful men in their lives. Sometimes, the men who had hurt them later turned their own lives around for the better. In my experience, some of my most rewarding relationships are with men. Growing up, my mother's dad was my hero. He is a WWII veteran who later taught Spanish to inner city kids in East Los Angeles. As an adult, my husband's love is an anchor of strong, positive support. He constantly reminds me that I can achieve my dreams, and he does all he can to help me do so. And there have been dozens of good men sandwiched in between—my dad, step-dad, brothers, friends and teachers.

Listening to women tell their stories shaped my ideas about faith and sexuality. I began to see that unhealthy patterns are not limited only to human relationships. From that vantage point, I focused primarily on helping women heal the most important connection in their lives—their relationship with God.

Even though women are busy working, dating, raising kids, paying bills and more, they have not lost a consciousness of God. This book will help them find God more concretely, and learn how to make faith central to their modern lives. The first few chapters expose toxic religious paradigms and draw a distinction between religious tradition and a more self-aware relationship with God. The rest of this book is about learning to hear God and communicate with Him in many aspects of life, including within family, friendships, marriage, sex, work and travel. Faith is our relationship with God, and communication is the foundation of any healthy relationship.

As a third-generation pastor and a spiritual director, I write from the perspective of Christian faith. However, Christianity is not the only religious tradition guilty of undermining a woman's sexuality. That's why I believe much of my life's experience and many of my spiritual insights can be valuable to any woman, regardless of her faith or lack of faith. Women of various backgrounds can discover how to overcome the religious constraints prevalent in a world structured by men.

Not every woman reading this book identifies with being married or traveling, but each chapter has the potential to enhance the bigger picture of a woman's faith and femininity. Think of these chapters as shades on a color wheel. Not everyone likes to paint in red. Some prefer pink. In order to create a bright pink color, the artist dips her brush in red paint and adds it to an existing soft pink. After mixing colors, if she finds the new pink too bright, she softens the shade with white paint. Dipping into the chapters works like the paint. The topic may not initially interest you or seem applicable to your life, but it may be what you need to discover a more vibrant shade of faith.

While I have spent several years walking alongside women on their spiritual paths, I believe that faith is ultimately an individual commitment. I hope to show you how God can become the central relationship in your life, and how prioritizing faith will empower your femininity.

JESUS IS A MAN

Jesus is a man. I am a woman.

This distinction has more implications than people typically care to acknowledge. Women no longer need men in the same ways we used to. In past generations, women needed men's provisions and protection for survival. Men were educated, and women needed to learn from them in order to thrive in their environment. Through marriage, women shared in men's benefits. Today, women have more options. Women may want men to love as lovers, to partner as parents, and to talk