When it comes to redemption, there is one constant that I've come to depend on.
It will never look the way I imagined it.
I know this from seeing it in the pages of Scripture, reading about it in the stories that stir my heart the most. God turns worlds upside down in the most surprising, unexpected ways.
Divine irony.
However, when it comes to life before my own eyes, I am not easily satisfied with this. I want redemption on my terms, in the ways I've hoped and imagined. I want it to make sense and be free of uncertainty and void of messes. I don't want wounds to rip open at unexpected times; I don't want process, I want completion.
I'd rather God just swallow up the empty, broken spaces as if they never existed in the first place. But, when Jesus conquered the grave, he kept his scars. The marks of his humanity remained in his resurrected body. The insults, the schemes, the betrayal of friends that lead to the nails in his hands were still there.
I'm in awe of his humanness. The God that stripped himself of all his God-rights wasn't just born into lowliness and died a sinner's death but reigns as one who still bears the marks of his humanity. He is not detached or uncaring to the deepest hurts of this world. He understands. He puts broken pieces back together in ways that honor his artistry as Creator. He redeems; he doesn't erase. Maybe part of redemption is coming to terms with the deepest parts of our humanity, the places only we know and only God can go, and inviting him in to sit for a while and just be without needing to get to the next step.
Life becomes confusing when God offers redemption but we are unable to see it for the gift that it is because it's not necessarily redemption we've been looking for, it's our own way. We want an end, pretty picture without the strain of the middle. We miss the gifts right in front of us because we're looking at them all wrong.
I thank God for the hollow space between his death and resurrection; the cold unknown is a place that will always be familiar until this world is fully redeemed. More so, I thank God for the scars that remained after he raised Jesus from the grave, for a God that identifies with the pain of his creation as both God and man.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Bioethics + Life = All Kinds of Rabbit Trails
In Cambodia, I remember listening to the stories of mothers and grandmothers who had started small businesses to provide for their families.
Where were the men?
At the bar, drinking the money away.
This year alone, I've seen several families fall apart. Who is left to put back the broken pieces? Nine times out of ten, it's mom. They are women with the resilience of warriors; they have no choice.
Saying this does not imply that men are bad. It does not make me a man-hater or mean that I think men are the enemy. They so are not. Many are humble, strong servants and advocates who love, respect, and honor all people. Women can leave paths of destruction and wreck lives in the same way as men. As it turns out, we're all human. Even so, when we look at our world as a whole, the majority of inequality still falls on the backs of women. It's how it is, and I'm thankful for both men and women who are actively working on behalf of all people towards restoration.
Soon after having Emma, I wrote the following blog, with a couple modifications, about motherhood. I thought of it today as I was thinking through a bioethics assignment I'm working on. While I'm still staunchly pro-life, I wonder how we can do better support all the mothers and potential mothers out there who see no better option than abortion? I think of a former student, who journaled about how she had never wanted an abortion but whose parents and boyfriend pressured her into getting one. The majority of women cite a lack of support or inability to carry on other responsibilities as reasons to have abortions. How can we have an active role in reducing the number of abortions? I believe that in advocating for the unborn, we are also advocating for the dignity of those that carry them.
I think mothers are the strongest creatures on earth (Of course, I say this six months after becoming one myself). While making a baby takes two people, the responsibility of protecting and nourishing that baby falls on the woman. We do a job that no man, literally, could ever do. While women have so many options that those that came before us did not have, nothing comes easy for a woman. It is still a man’s world and breaking through the glass ceiling is still an unlikely task. The fact that our bodies are able to reproduce is one of the obstacles of making it in a man’s world.
This is the beautiful burden of womanhood.
Some face this fact by choice, others by surprise, while others by force. There is a certain power and freedom that men have from never having to face this. As women we have worked so hard for equality and rightly so- equal wages, opportunity, etc. However, the greatest thing that separates us from men is our ability to reproduce. This is also the most beautiful, amazing thing about being a woman.
We give life.
The artistic beauty of a child being knit together inside a woman’s body is so incredible. In secret places where only we can feel the acrobats of this little one, we protect and nourish until he or she can survive apart from us.
Through women, all men find their beginning.
Yes, we have rights. We've worked very, very hard for our rights. But, as women, isn't it the ultimate show of strength to set these rights aside? Doesn't humanity always shine brightest when we choose sacrifice? I think most people would agree it’s best to choose love over indifference, optimism over cynicism, giving over taking, creativity over status quo. At times we are asked to set our rights aside for the sake of another, to sacrifice our bodies (and I have the stretch marks to prove it!) which a man would never have to do, but it is the ultimate display of strength and dignity. The kind that comes with celebration and "Eschet Chayils!"
How can we ensure, even in unwanted pregnancy, that this is every woman's experience with giving birth?
Where were the men?
At the bar, drinking the money away.
This year alone, I've seen several families fall apart. Who is left to put back the broken pieces? Nine times out of ten, it's mom. They are women with the resilience of warriors; they have no choice.
Saying this does not imply that men are bad. It does not make me a man-hater or mean that I think men are the enemy. They so are not. Many are humble, strong servants and advocates who love, respect, and honor all people. Women can leave paths of destruction and wreck lives in the same way as men. As it turns out, we're all human. Even so, when we look at our world as a whole, the majority of inequality still falls on the backs of women. It's how it is, and I'm thankful for both men and women who are actively working on behalf of all people towards restoration.
Soon after having Emma, I wrote the following blog, with a couple modifications, about motherhood. I thought of it today as I was thinking through a bioethics assignment I'm working on. While I'm still staunchly pro-life, I wonder how we can do better support all the mothers and potential mothers out there who see no better option than abortion? I think of a former student, who journaled about how she had never wanted an abortion but whose parents and boyfriend pressured her into getting one. The majority of women cite a lack of support or inability to carry on other responsibilities as reasons to have abortions. How can we have an active role in reducing the number of abortions? I believe that in advocating for the unborn, we are also advocating for the dignity of those that carry them.
I think mothers are the strongest creatures on earth (Of course, I say this six months after becoming one myself). While making a baby takes two people, the responsibility of protecting and nourishing that baby falls on the woman. We do a job that no man, literally, could ever do. While women have so many options that those that came before us did not have, nothing comes easy for a woman. It is still a man’s world and breaking through the glass ceiling is still an unlikely task. The fact that our bodies are able to reproduce is one of the obstacles of making it in a man’s world.
This is the beautiful burden of womanhood.
Some face this fact by choice, others by surprise, while others by force. There is a certain power and freedom that men have from never having to face this. As women we have worked so hard for equality and rightly so- equal wages, opportunity, etc. However, the greatest thing that separates us from men is our ability to reproduce. This is also the most beautiful, amazing thing about being a woman.
We give life.
The artistic beauty of a child being knit together inside a woman’s body is so incredible. In secret places where only we can feel the acrobats of this little one, we protect and nourish until he or she can survive apart from us.
Through women, all men find their beginning.
Yes, we have rights. We've worked very, very hard for our rights. But, as women, isn't it the ultimate show of strength to set these rights aside? Doesn't humanity always shine brightest when we choose sacrifice? I think most people would agree it’s best to choose love over indifference, optimism over cynicism, giving over taking, creativity over status quo. At times we are asked to set our rights aside for the sake of another, to sacrifice our bodies (and I have the stretch marks to prove it!) which a man would never have to do, but it is the ultimate display of strength and dignity. The kind that comes with celebration and "Eschet Chayils!"
How can we ensure, even in unwanted pregnancy, that this is every woman's experience with giving birth?
Monday, March 18, 2013
For My Jax (Thoughts on Being a Man)
Dear Jax,
There are times when I write your sister letters when I think of things that are so important for her to know but she is not ready to hear. Most of these thoughts come from the struggles I know she will encounter from being a girl. It's more difficult for me to do this with you. As a woman, I am by no means an authority on what it means to be a man. Thankfully, you have a good daddy that will model to you what manhood is. All I can do is offer my perspective as a woman, from what I see in our world, and give you the wisdom of a mom who wants nothing but the best for her son.
It's been one of those weeks, Jaxie-boy. While you're out playing and jumping and making some of the silliest faces I've ever seen, the world is turning in all kinds of ways that I wish I could forever block you from. I wish you would never have to experience the ugly things in life. While the world that you were born into is full of so much joy and beauty, I also want you to be prepared for some of those nasty little things that will sneak up on you and have the potential to destroy without you even realizing it's happening.
Right now, you have a favorite song. Every time we get into the car you ask me to play it. While it's been months and so far past the point of getting old, I still play it on your request. I love that it's your favorite song, and I love listening to your sweet, little voice as you sing along and fist pump in the back seat.
"Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up?
Won't you stand up, you girls and boys?
Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up?
Won't you stand up and use your voice?"
It's been our anthem, these last several months, Jackson, and I hope you never forget. You see, you will get so many messages before you about what it means to be a man. This scares me, as I know many of these messages will be so distorted.
I want you to know how to treat a woman, through the eyes of a woman. And while this will apply to future dating relationships and marriage, all I want to focus on right now is how you interact with the opposite sex. While marriage will be the single most important relationship in your life, over half the population is female. As your mom, it is so important to me that you grow up as a man who knows how to treat people in general, and while I think men and women have way more similarities than we realize, there are some things that you will need to know.
You see, honey, our culture has both sexualized and romanticized life in ways that make it very difficult to see the opposite sex as a beautiful gift that we can learn from, create with, and experience life alongside. Good things have been perverted. We're told that girls want love. We see the twisted nature of this in girls that will do anything to experience love, to capture the male gaze and keep it. She'll do things that strip her of her God-given dignity in order to make a man love her. And Jax, we see the twisted way this plays out for a man as he will do anything to make himself feel respected and powerful, which means taking everyone around him down so he can be built up. While our flesh may live under this curse, we are not bound by it, as the Spirit of the Living God lives in us, enabling us to live in the newness of His resurrection life. A new way, my dear, as He restores all things under him, even the battle of the sexes.
All creation longs for this renewal, my dear. The older you get, the more you will sense the longings around you for relationships that are life-giving and restorative. But, you will also feel the pull of wanting to belong, of desiring to be accepted, and doing whatever it takes to get it. I pray that you look for acceptance and affirmation in the right places.
This past week I've heard far too many horrible stories about what men, boys even, are capable of doing that destroy women because they have absolutely no respect for them as fellow human beings. And it hurts my heart, as it always does, in a way that is unique to me because of the fact that I am a woman. And I am a mother. Maybe someday these stories will hurt your heart in a unique way as well. I hope as you grow, you remember to stand up for those around you. I hope that you are a man full of compassion, moved to act in behalf of others. I hope that you grow to become a man that looks at women and sees them as your equal. While there is so much mystery and strangeness in learning what it means to love and respect people, I hope that you fight hard to understand.
Jaxie, I challenge you to develop relationships of mutual respect with the opposite sex. I challenge you to look girls in the eye and hold their gaze. As beautiful as a woman's body is, you must know that she is more than her body. Never, ever call a girl a slut or a whore. I don't care who she is or what she's done. If all your friends are saying this about a girl, you stand up for her. Always. Women are not objects. In the same way men are, women are fully stamped with the image of God- think of that Jax, we bear the image of God! What an amazing, beautiful thing. No matter what it seems as you look at billboards, TV, the Internet or anywhere else, know that women have immense God-given value and worth. They are poets and artists, crafters and cultivators, scientists and teachers, physicians and pastors, warriors and princesses; they are the crown of all creation and worthy of your respect, my dear. Don't forget that, my love. You will be a leader but that looks a lot more like a servant than anything else. Your job is to build people up, never to tear down. Respect is important, but whose eyes you are respected in is of greatest value.
My prayer for you, Jackson, is that you grow with a strength that is not of this world.
"Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up?
Won't you stand up, you girls and boys?
Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up?
Won't you stand up and use your voice?"
I cannot wait to see the man you will become. I'm so proud to be your mommy.
Love you always and so much,
Mommy
I cannot wait to see the man you will become. I'm so proud to be your mommy.
Love you always and so much,
Mommy
Friday, January 18, 2013
When There's Room at the Table For Everyone
Every month we take a small group of students to a group home to share a meal and spend some time hanging out together. It's such an enjoyable evening. Our students always leave with a greater appreciation for their own homes, regardless of their present circumstances. They get to go home to a family, even if it's a dysfunctional one. I hope the students that we visit enjoy time with other kids and adults who want to get to know them. I hope they see they are valued and loved.
These nights can feel like a youth group event because several leaders and students are spread all around different tables and we end the night playing some game. Last night was different though. Matt and I just had two students with us and the cottage we visited only had four kids.
This time, we all got a seat at the kitchen table.
Our family had the opportunity to be with their family. They shared their space with us in a way that felt like home. We swapped stories and laughed together. The kids that we visit with are primarily middle and high schoolers, but this time there was a 7 or 8 year old little girl as well. I swear it could have been Em in a few years. One of her favorite things to do was hunt lizards. I'm pretty sure Matt couldn't help but fall a little in love with her.
I have such an appreciation for the house parents who work to make this place a home for these kids. I can't imagine how draining it must be at times. They give of themselves 24 hours a day. I think the national turnover rate is about 9 months. Some of the house parents at this location have been there over a decade. They provide the roots in a setting that is characterized by instability. We have a tendency to want to come in and fix brokenness. These people spend their time sharing in it.
They are the type of people I want to model my life after.
I went home and watched our children as they slept. For now, these are the two beauties that God has entrusted to our immediate care. My prayer is that they can rest confidently in our love, that we clearly display God's love for them, and cultivate a love for others in their little hearts. I pray that as a family we see the people right in front of us, securing the roots of deep love, freeing us to love even more.
These nights can feel like a youth group event because several leaders and students are spread all around different tables and we end the night playing some game. Last night was different though. Matt and I just had two students with us and the cottage we visited only had four kids.
This time, we all got a seat at the kitchen table.
Our family had the opportunity to be with their family. They shared their space with us in a way that felt like home. We swapped stories and laughed together. The kids that we visit with are primarily middle and high schoolers, but this time there was a 7 or 8 year old little girl as well. I swear it could have been Em in a few years. One of her favorite things to do was hunt lizards. I'm pretty sure Matt couldn't help but fall a little in love with her.
I have such an appreciation for the house parents who work to make this place a home for these kids. I can't imagine how draining it must be at times. They give of themselves 24 hours a day. I think the national turnover rate is about 9 months. Some of the house parents at this location have been there over a decade. They provide the roots in a setting that is characterized by instability. We have a tendency to want to come in and fix brokenness. These people spend their time sharing in it.
They are the type of people I want to model my life after.
I went home and watched our children as they slept. For now, these are the two beauties that God has entrusted to our immediate care. My prayer is that they can rest confidently in our love, that we clearly display God's love for them, and cultivate a love for others in their little hearts. I pray that as a family we see the people right in front of us, securing the roots of deep love, freeing us to love even more.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
What is Thinking Biblically? No, Seriously, What Is It?
"If you listen well, you can find the honest questions. If you don't listen well, you will only hear what you have answers for."
I don't have all the answers. If there's one thing that I've learned well it's that. The more I learn, the more I see just how much more I have to learn. I don't say that with some weird, false humility either, I say that because it can seem incredibly overwhelming to me sometimes. Ideally, the process of maturation is slow and steady. It's like raising children. You don't tell them everything there is to know about life right away. Difficult concepts should be unpacked in stages. Sex, for instance. Just because they ask where babies come from doesn't mean they need to know the ins and outs of sex any time soon. You give them what they can handle a little at a time and pray that you don't royally mess them up.
I'm trying to become more systematic in how I approach learning, organizing and building off of what I already know while acknowledging that the process is dynamic. I'm not saying truth changes, but our perspectives certainly can change. This can be both wonderful and terrifying. It requires a commitment to prayer and faith in a living God. It's easy to look at the early followers of Jesus and think if only we had the opportunity to walk with those that had been physically present with Jesus. Would it have been easier though? The teachings of the early church radically changed things. There must have been some seriously difficult conversations taking place between friends and family members. Do we follow or not follow? Is this truly the one we've been waiting for? The Jews were waiting for a Messiah that would deliver them, but this wasn't quite the deliverance they hoped for. Can you imagine grappling with the theological implications of a crucified and risen Lord? They didn't have New Testament explanations that we have but had to wrestle with what was written of Him from what we know as the Old Testament. How many of us would have had the faith to cling to Jesus instead of our system?
Where does that leave us now after a couple thousand years of trying to figure out God? Of thinking "biblically?" I know very godly people who come to very different conclusions on various passages of Scripture. So which is the proper biblical interpretation and how do we know? From what I've seen, people come to different conclusions not based on who is "being biblical" but based on their denominational framework. Baptists come to Baptisty conclusions, Anglicans come to Anglican-ish conclusions, and Presbyterians come to Presby conclusions. The theology they start with shapes where they end up. If you're a Calvinist, you look through that lens, Arminians through Arminianism. Not to mention all the other "isms" that we build. It seems to me that there should always be some sort of tension in this, however, because no denomination can possibly get everything right. Right? So, shouldn't we be having a whole lot of honest conversations within whatever framework we find ourselves and not settle for prepackaged answers? Why is that so scary? What are the benefits and detriments of forming our faith communities based on our particular system of belief instead of our common love of Jesus? Is there a difference between dogma and doctrine? Is there a difference between strong faith and strong doctrinal stances and can either of them stand alone? How can we cultivate a culture of learning that casts out fear and leads us into loving God with all our heart, soul and strength?
Can we drink from the deep wells of the mystery of God and trust Jesus above the systems while finding safe places to ask questions and be vulnerable in the fellowship of not having all the answers?
I don't know.
God help us spur each other on to know You and make You known. God help us to have a theology of weakness, where we look at the cross, and not our agenda, as our model. God help us live what we claim to believe. God help us be good listeners, seeking out where You are moving, and be faithful interpreters of your work in our world.
I don't have all the answers. If there's one thing that I've learned well it's that. The more I learn, the more I see just how much more I have to learn. I don't say that with some weird, false humility either, I say that because it can seem incredibly overwhelming to me sometimes. Ideally, the process of maturation is slow and steady. It's like raising children. You don't tell them everything there is to know about life right away. Difficult concepts should be unpacked in stages. Sex, for instance. Just because they ask where babies come from doesn't mean they need to know the ins and outs of sex any time soon. You give them what they can handle a little at a time and pray that you don't royally mess them up.
I'm trying to become more systematic in how I approach learning, organizing and building off of what I already know while acknowledging that the process is dynamic. I'm not saying truth changes, but our perspectives certainly can change. This can be both wonderful and terrifying. It requires a commitment to prayer and faith in a living God. It's easy to look at the early followers of Jesus and think if only we had the opportunity to walk with those that had been physically present with Jesus. Would it have been easier though? The teachings of the early church radically changed things. There must have been some seriously difficult conversations taking place between friends and family members. Do we follow or not follow? Is this truly the one we've been waiting for? The Jews were waiting for a Messiah that would deliver them, but this wasn't quite the deliverance they hoped for. Can you imagine grappling with the theological implications of a crucified and risen Lord? They didn't have New Testament explanations that we have but had to wrestle with what was written of Him from what we know as the Old Testament. How many of us would have had the faith to cling to Jesus instead of our system?
Where does that leave us now after a couple thousand years of trying to figure out God? Of thinking "biblically?" I know very godly people who come to very different conclusions on various passages of Scripture. So which is the proper biblical interpretation and how do we know? From what I've seen, people come to different conclusions not based on who is "being biblical" but based on their denominational framework. Baptists come to Baptisty conclusions, Anglicans come to Anglican-ish conclusions, and Presbyterians come to Presby conclusions. The theology they start with shapes where they end up. If you're a Calvinist, you look through that lens, Arminians through Arminianism. Not to mention all the other "isms" that we build. It seems to me that there should always be some sort of tension in this, however, because no denomination can possibly get everything right. Right? So, shouldn't we be having a whole lot of honest conversations within whatever framework we find ourselves and not settle for prepackaged answers? Why is that so scary? What are the benefits and detriments of forming our faith communities based on our particular system of belief instead of our common love of Jesus? Is there a difference between dogma and doctrine? Is there a difference between strong faith and strong doctrinal stances and can either of them stand alone? How can we cultivate a culture of learning that casts out fear and leads us into loving God with all our heart, soul and strength?
Can we drink from the deep wells of the mystery of God and trust Jesus above the systems while finding safe places to ask questions and be vulnerable in the fellowship of not having all the answers?
I don't know.
God help us spur each other on to know You and make You known. God help us to have a theology of weakness, where we look at the cross, and not our agenda, as our model. God help us live what we claim to believe. God help us be good listeners, seeking out where You are moving, and be faithful interpreters of your work in our world.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
When Friends Sucky Words Are True
A couple months ago I was trying to explain a research project that I'd been working on to a friend when he stopped me and said, "Ok, this is just painful. Stop. Maybe you could just write it out for me."
Ouch.
Matt awkwardly divulged to this friend the other day how much this hurt my feelings, and we all joked about it and moved on. He'd already apologized and genuinely felt bad, but it's not that what he said was even a big deal. Most of the time I would just laugh it off because when it comes to storytelling, I sometimes lose my own attention and want to stop listening. No biggie.
The problem was in the timing of the comment.
Recently I'd felt like such a failure in this area, so it was pouring salt on an already open wound. And I know all about open wounds. Leading this Love146 stuff has made me feel like I'm standing naked in front of a crowd and instead of laughing, they're just looking at me with their heads tilted, saying, "Huh."
So awkward.
It's not fun. I'm vulnerable in all the ways I'd rather not be. Let me repeat, it's not fun. But it's good. I know it's stretching me in ways I don't want to be stretched and certainly making me operate out of a place of weakness, which more often than I care to admit, sends me to the god of chocolate instead of to the God of the universe. But, there's hope in the middle of it all. "Tomorrow's freedom is today's surrender," as I move forward, even when my feet feel like they're stuck in the mud.
Maybe there was more to what he said than just the painful truth of it. Maybe it was just what I needed to hear. The little nudge in a positive direction.
Because he's right.
I can write.
Maybe it's time to cultivate it. There's so many things I want my children to know. I never want them to miss the heart of what we want them to learn because I couldn't speak the right words to them.
This is for my babies, so you may know your momma and as much as I can think of to pass onto you when I just can't seem to find the words. I hope all these thoughts that make little sense coming out of my mouth somehow find meaning through plucking at a keyboard. I hope you someday find joy in reading through this and hearing the voice of your mommy.
So thanks, Nate, for finding my stories so painful. ;)
Ouch.
Matt awkwardly divulged to this friend the other day how much this hurt my feelings, and we all joked about it and moved on. He'd already apologized and genuinely felt bad, but it's not that what he said was even a big deal. Most of the time I would just laugh it off because when it comes to storytelling, I sometimes lose my own attention and want to stop listening. No biggie.
The problem was in the timing of the comment.
Recently I'd felt like such a failure in this area, so it was pouring salt on an already open wound. And I know all about open wounds. Leading this Love146 stuff has made me feel like I'm standing naked in front of a crowd and instead of laughing, they're just looking at me with their heads tilted, saying, "Huh."
So awkward.
It's not fun. I'm vulnerable in all the ways I'd rather not be. Let me repeat, it's not fun. But it's good. I know it's stretching me in ways I don't want to be stretched and certainly making me operate out of a place of weakness, which more often than I care to admit, sends me to the god of chocolate instead of to the God of the universe. But, there's hope in the middle of it all. "Tomorrow's freedom is today's surrender," as I move forward, even when my feet feel like they're stuck in the mud.
Maybe there was more to what he said than just the painful truth of it. Maybe it was just what I needed to hear. The little nudge in a positive direction.
Because he's right.
I can write.
Maybe it's time to cultivate it. There's so many things I want my children to know. I never want them to miss the heart of what we want them to learn because I couldn't speak the right words to them.
This is for my babies, so you may know your momma and as much as I can think of to pass onto you when I just can't seem to find the words. I hope all these thoughts that make little sense coming out of my mouth somehow find meaning through plucking at a keyboard. I hope you someday find joy in reading through this and hearing the voice of your mommy.
So thanks, Nate, for finding my stories so painful. ;)
Monday, January 7, 2013
Imagination- 2013
The function of the imagination is “not to make strange things settled so much as to make settled things strange; not so much to make wonders facts as to make facts wonders.” G.K. Chesterton
I'm resolved for my children to know the Word of God as more than just a collection of stories, facts, or rules, but to see in it the invitation to know the God who woos and invites us into relationship with him, to worship with their lives, to chase him and see him work in all things. I don't want to manage my little ones; I want to be a vehicle that awakens their little hearts and minds.
I'm learning to phase out the old, tired words of relationship stiflers- fear, gossip, and self-interest and replace them with courage, vulnerability and loving others as myself. I can be so patient with my own foibles but fail to extend the same grace to others. My level-headed husband is broadening my imagination by helping me learn to let go instead of holding tightly to hurts that grip me. I'm sure we can imagine greater ways to love and serve each other this year as well. We recently unlocked some of the mysteries of the other with a personality assessment test. While it sounds completely lame, I think it will actually help guide us through areas that we haven't been able to figure out before.
And finally, as I navigate the waters of seeking God's mercy and justice, I can't help but be reminded of one of the greatest lessons I learned last year. My ears have been tuned to what God is doing in our world and has placed me on a path that will include times of loneliness and discouragement. That's okay though. I just need to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, being sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit, learning to pray as never before. I will fail at times. I will get things wrong. I will want to throw my hands up and forget it. But I won't. I won't. I won't. As Gary Haugen said the other day, "If you enter into this fight you will need Him, you will seek Him and you will find Him."
This year, as never before, my life will be washed in prayer that seeks, that longs, that boldly approaches the ultimate Artist and Imagination-Shaper.
2013 is already in full swing, as far as the calendar goes, but life has yet to go back to normal. Em heads back to school tomorrow and with that, I think, will begin another season of normalcy. I'm ready for routine and normal and am determined to jump into some beautiful rhythms in my own life and with my family. I don't know if it's the resolution call of the new year or what, but I remember wanting the same thing last year at this time. I want to enjoy the flow of life through structured time, in order to live more creatively. Matt and I were just talking last night about if we don't have specific time set aside for what's important to us, then it just doesn't happen. While I may shrivel up and die without a bit of spontaneity, I also want to live intentionally this year.
I want to live from a deeper imagination.
I think that's my word of 2013.
Imagination.
im·ag·i·na·tion
I think that's my word of 2013.
Imagination.
im·ag·i·na·tion
[ih-maj-uh-ney-shuh n] noun
- the faculty of imagining, or of forming mental images or concepts of what is not actually present to the senses.
- ability to face and resolve difficulties; resourcefulness
2012 tired me out in many ways. Partially from not taking time to let myself imagine more, to think creatively, to face and resolve difficulties through concepts that are not actually present to the senses because maybe I've gotten too used to asking the wrong questions and expecting different solutions. My brain needs some muscle confusion this year.
I'm resolved to continuously, actively search for the beauty in the places where it shouldn't be. Instead of searching for better answers and solutions, pose better questions. Always go deeper. Challenge the typical frameworks that lead us away from the Point. To more fully understand the story of the history that I am a part of, my roots in an ancient Hebrew faith in a God that has been weaving His story throughout the ages. A God who continues to work today.
I'm resolved to continuously, actively search for the beauty in the places where it shouldn't be. Instead of searching for better answers and solutions, pose better questions. Always go deeper. Challenge the typical frameworks that lead us away from the Point. To more fully understand the story of the history that I am a part of, my roots in an ancient Hebrew faith in a God that has been weaving His story throughout the ages. A God who continues to work today.
I'm resolved for my children to know the Word of God as more than just a collection of stories, facts, or rules, but to see in it the invitation to know the God who woos and invites us into relationship with him, to worship with their lives, to chase him and see him work in all things. I don't want to manage my little ones; I want to be a vehicle that awakens their little hearts and minds.
I'm learning to phase out the old, tired words of relationship stiflers- fear, gossip, and self-interest and replace them with courage, vulnerability and loving others as myself. I can be so patient with my own foibles but fail to extend the same grace to others. My level-headed husband is broadening my imagination by helping me learn to let go instead of holding tightly to hurts that grip me. I'm sure we can imagine greater ways to love and serve each other this year as well. We recently unlocked some of the mysteries of the other with a personality assessment test. While it sounds completely lame, I think it will actually help guide us through areas that we haven't been able to figure out before.
And finally, as I navigate the waters of seeking God's mercy and justice, I can't help but be reminded of one of the greatest lessons I learned last year. My ears have been tuned to what God is doing in our world and has placed me on a path that will include times of loneliness and discouragement. That's okay though. I just need to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, being sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit, learning to pray as never before. I will fail at times. I will get things wrong. I will want to throw my hands up and forget it. But I won't. I won't. I won't. As Gary Haugen said the other day, "If you enter into this fight you will need Him, you will seek Him and you will find Him."
This year, as never before, my life will be washed in prayer that seeks, that longs, that boldly approaches the ultimate Artist and Imagination-Shaper.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
What I Would Do With 30 Seconds
Like most Americans, I spent much of the weekend pondering Friday's massacre at Sandy Hook. I'm heartbroken; we all have that in common, but how we process is so different. I was alone (in public) when I heard the news. When I couldn't get a hold of Matt, I went on FB and Twitter to find some sort of connection in my grief. In the beginning, each and every status update lamented the shock, horror, and sadness of it all, but as the weekend continued, different tones emerged as people tried their best to make sense of things in their own way. How other people process can be really annoying if it's not similar to your own.
Isn't that how it always goes?
In these monumental moments, whether tragic, or overwhelmingly beautiful, we have about 30 seconds where we can all be on the same page, united in whatever it is we are united over, until the pull of self tip-toes in with a single comment. Or look. Or whatever it is that awakens the I that momentarily stepped aside for the other. I think one of the wisest things I read was this: http://timgombis.com/2012/12/17/silence/.
Silence.
Not inaction. But giving each other room to breathe, deeply.
Together.
Waiting on wisdom.
Maybe we can stretch out those 30 seconds of unity. Because having different ideas is good. It's healthy, enriching. We need different perspectives to challenge us to go deeper. As long as those perspectives are laced in grace and the desire for understanding.
There were constructive conversations. I read a long post between my mom and a lifelong friend, where their views differed, but instead of feeling aggravated by it, it made me want to go back to growing up around our kitchen table where hours of conversation took place between our families. I wanted to connect with eyes and inflections, not a dumb computer screen.
Connection.
Because that's what's supposed to take place between neighbors.
If we could just extend our 30 seconds. And just be.
Together.
Isn't that how it always goes?
In these monumental moments, whether tragic, or overwhelmingly beautiful, we have about 30 seconds where we can all be on the same page, united in whatever it is we are united over, until the pull of self tip-toes in with a single comment. Or look. Or whatever it is that awakens the I that momentarily stepped aside for the other. I think one of the wisest things I read was this: http://timgombis.com/2012/12/17/silence/.
Silence.
Not inaction. But giving each other room to breathe, deeply.
Together.
Waiting on wisdom.
Maybe we can stretch out those 30 seconds of unity. Because having different ideas is good. It's healthy, enriching. We need different perspectives to challenge us to go deeper. As long as those perspectives are laced in grace and the desire for understanding.
There were constructive conversations. I read a long post between my mom and a lifelong friend, where their views differed, but instead of feeling aggravated by it, it made me want to go back to growing up around our kitchen table where hours of conversation took place between our families. I wanted to connect with eyes and inflections, not a dumb computer screen.
Connection.
Because that's what's supposed to take place between neighbors.
If we could just extend our 30 seconds. And just be.
Together.
Friday, December 14, 2012
There Are No Words.
I'm sitting in Starbucks trying to write a paper on how to fix our nation's educational system. Impossible.
I feel sick.
Just saw the news of dozens of kids in CT killed in a mass shooting at school. Babies, really. The report that I read said much of it happened in a kindergarten class. Babies that would be friends of my own baby.
Gosh, unfathomable.
There's no sense in it. Children. God, anyone but our children.
My mind has been wandering through the silence of God in so many ways lately. Where are you God? How long must we wait for you to show up? How long? I so believe that you are a God of love, compassion, and mercy. And justice. God is just. I believe these things with every fiber of my being. But these days come, when we see how much we hurt each other, when nothing makes sense. When our babies are murdered.
How long, God?
I can scream these questions at God. Are you even there? Are you good, God? I can ask and shout and scream my doubt. It can get pretty ugly sometimes, when that doubt creeps in.
He can handle it though.
And the answer will still be yes.
Yes, He is good.
Yes, he hears our cries for deliverance.
Yes, he knows our pain.
When I hear of senseless, horrible tragedies like this, I think my mind will always go back to Cambodia. To the Killing Fields. To the tree. That tree is forever etched in my mind. Against that tree where children were horribly, senselessly murdered. And it leads me to another tree. God, how could it not? Because the Story, the workings of this tree run through me. Only when life is framed through looking at this tree can any of this senselessness make sense.
Emmanuel.
God is with us.
Truly with us. Emptying himself of all God-rights to save us. Taking on our sin.
On a tree.
The Prince of Peace.
Stepping into our pain.
Knowing it so fully, yet never retaliating or hurting when hurt.
Fully drinking from the cup of human suffering.
Yet there's human suffering all around.
still.
He waits.
And there's such hope in that waiting.
He will redeem it all.
Oh God, we are desperate for your redemption.
Death. He conquered.
Life. He gives.
Horrible, brokenness. He heals.
Resurrection.
The power to make all things right in this world.
He holds.
Divine justice.
It will come.
It has come.
But someday, in all it's fullness.
Shalom.
The only hope of a world turned mad.
We mourn, we weep with those whose pain is unbearable to bear alone. We share in it with them. We comfort through our tears, our presence, our remembering. There are no words. We trust. And live expectantly in hope. And until that Hope returns, we are the tangible expressions of it for each other. We work to right all these wrongs. We work and we pray and we don't give up or turn a blind eye. We love as he loved.
God help us love in days like this.
I feel sick.
Just saw the news of dozens of kids in CT killed in a mass shooting at school. Babies, really. The report that I read said much of it happened in a kindergarten class. Babies that would be friends of my own baby.
Gosh, unfathomable.
There's no sense in it. Children. God, anyone but our children.
My mind has been wandering through the silence of God in so many ways lately. Where are you God? How long must we wait for you to show up? How long? I so believe that you are a God of love, compassion, and mercy. And justice. God is just. I believe these things with every fiber of my being. But these days come, when we see how much we hurt each other, when nothing makes sense. When our babies are murdered.
How long, God?
I can scream these questions at God. Are you even there? Are you good, God? I can ask and shout and scream my doubt. It can get pretty ugly sometimes, when that doubt creeps in.
He can handle it though.
And the answer will still be yes.
Yes, He is good.
Yes, he hears our cries for deliverance.
Yes, he knows our pain.
When I hear of senseless, horrible tragedies like this, I think my mind will always go back to Cambodia. To the Killing Fields. To the tree. That tree is forever etched in my mind. Against that tree where children were horribly, senselessly murdered. And it leads me to another tree. God, how could it not? Because the Story, the workings of this tree run through me. Only when life is framed through looking at this tree can any of this senselessness make sense.
Emmanuel.
God is with us.
Truly with us. Emptying himself of all God-rights to save us. Taking on our sin.
On a tree.
The Prince of Peace.
Stepping into our pain.
Knowing it so fully, yet never retaliating or hurting when hurt.
Fully drinking from the cup of human suffering.
Yet there's human suffering all around.
still.
He waits.
And there's such hope in that waiting.
He will redeem it all.
Oh God, we are desperate for your redemption.
Death. He conquered.
Life. He gives.
Horrible, brokenness. He heals.
Resurrection.
The power to make all things right in this world.
He holds.
Divine justice.
It will come.
It has come.
But someday, in all it's fullness.
Shalom.
The only hope of a world turned mad.
We mourn, we weep with those whose pain is unbearable to bear alone. We share in it with them. We comfort through our tears, our presence, our remembering. There are no words. We trust. And live expectantly in hope. And until that Hope returns, we are the tangible expressions of it for each other. We work to right all these wrongs. We work and we pray and we don't give up or turn a blind eye. We love as he loved.
God help us love in days like this.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
When Silence Falls
Sometimes it's so hard to see God. To know that he speaks.
Today.
As in ages past.
I forget this is not just a modern struggle. The ancients struggled with the silence of God, too. There were centuries of silence where the prophets lips were closed. They just didn't hear from God. Where was he in all this silence?
Working his plan in his own time. Wooing us to trust him even when we don't hear as we want to. God knows, God sees, and yet he waits. With a linear view of time, this doesn't seem to make sense. If only we had the eyes of God.
I've been reminded of the cries of the Psalmists, begging God to show up. And I've seen it the lives of those around me. How long, God?
All things speak of the mystery of God. I believe that wholeheartedly. I feel it in my bones. As we follow Jesus, we must be people that interpret the world well. That he is here. And he is good. So good that even when the material world seems to scream he's absent, the immaterial whispers back of his love. His Story running through our veins in a way that always points home.
The signs are all around.
If we can see them with the right eyes, as we stumble in between the inciting incidents of faith. Finding the holy ground of earth and air, breathing in the normalcy of the slow process of maturation. All things in their proper time.
Everyday marches on. The sun rises and sets. The seasons change.
These very things speak of Him. That the word doesn't just spin madly on. It's not all chaos and dysfunction. There's sense, order and reason. Imagination and beauty. Love. Redemption.
How can we train our eyes to see Him more clearly?
Today.
As in ages past.
I forget this is not just a modern struggle. The ancients struggled with the silence of God, too. There were centuries of silence where the prophets lips were closed. They just didn't hear from God. Where was he in all this silence?
Working his plan in his own time. Wooing us to trust him even when we don't hear as we want to. God knows, God sees, and yet he waits. With a linear view of time, this doesn't seem to make sense. If only we had the eyes of God.
I've been reminded of the cries of the Psalmists, begging God to show up. And I've seen it the lives of those around me. How long, God?
All things speak of the mystery of God. I believe that wholeheartedly. I feel it in my bones. As we follow Jesus, we must be people that interpret the world well. That he is here. And he is good. So good that even when the material world seems to scream he's absent, the immaterial whispers back of his love. His Story running through our veins in a way that always points home.
The signs are all around.
If we can see them with the right eyes, as we stumble in between the inciting incidents of faith. Finding the holy ground of earth and air, breathing in the normalcy of the slow process of maturation. All things in their proper time.
Everyday marches on. The sun rises and sets. The seasons change.
These very things speak of Him. That the word doesn't just spin madly on. It's not all chaos and dysfunction. There's sense, order and reason. Imagination and beauty. Love. Redemption.
How can we train our eyes to see Him more clearly?
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