who you were made to be

 I've been thinking about a story from the Bible about a couple of women named Mary and Martha.

Mary and Martha were sisters, friends of Jesus. In the story I'm thinking of (you can read it in Luke 10:38-42), Martha had invited Jesus and his disciples - at least 12 of them - into her home.  She probably had the gift of hospitality.  I'm betting she thrived on hosting company, preparing a nice meal, having a houseful of people, hearing happy voices filling her home.

So Jesus and his friends come in and hang out in the living room while Martha is busy in the kitchen.  Her sister Mary doesn't seem to have the same gift of hospitality that Martha does.  While Martha is working, Mary is sitting in the living room with Jesus, listening to him talk.  She's just soaking in his words, glad to have him there and to be able to spend time with him.

Martha gets peeved.  She's doing all the work, running around trying to get the meal ready and make everything perfect, while Mary is just sitting around.  Mary has missed - or ignored - all of Martha's subtle hints to come help.  Martha comes and stands in the doorway and she's like, "Hey, Jesus!  Would you please tell Mary to help me?  I'm slaving away here, and I could use her help!"

Jesus, instead of agreeing with Martha and telling Mary to get busy, seems almost to reprimand Martha.  He tells her that Mary has chosen the better thing!  I mean seriously.  If it wasn't for Martha, no one would eat, right?  Someone has to do the work, right?  How unfair!

Here's what I've been thinking.  We've all been created differently, with individual gifts and abilities.  God created Martha with her gift of hospitality, just as he created Mary with the gift of presence.  I think Jesus was saying that Martha's mistake was expecting Mary to embrace Martha's gift of hospitality instead of her own gift.  And that Martha needed to embrace her hospitality gift with her whole heart.  Mary's choice of what was better was that she fully chose her gift of presence.  Martha just needed to be herself, to be cognizant of her gift.  She could have completely enjoyed her process of getting the house and the meal readied for Jesus and his disciples - that would have been her "better" thing.

I think sometimes we live the way Martha did; at least I know I do.  I look around at others instead of focusing on being myself. I might make a subtle demand that you be like me, take on my gifts.  Maybe I wish that I was more like someone else. But I want to be fully alive to myself as God made me.  I think that's the key to contentment: wholeheartedly being who I was made to be. I want to choose the better thing. 

nearing a far God

 I have the honour of calling Leslie Leyland Fields a friend and mentor, and she's just published a new book.  It's called Nearing a Far God; praying the Psalms with our whole selves.

Leslie is a memoirist who has published other notable works such as Your Story Matters, Crossing the Waters, and Surviving the Island of Grace.  In this new book, she takes her readers on a journey through the Psalms and shows us how to engage with them on an intimate level.  She gives us tools while encouraging us to literally use our whole selves - mind, body, heart, and soul - to dig in and experience each type of psalm in a new way.  Along the way, Leslie expertly weaves story into each chapter, showing the way to a deeper acquaintance with the God of the Psalms and the Bible.

the little things

Recently I watched an Instagram reel by a guy who was researching near-death experiences.  He talked about people who had the chance to see an overview of their lives.  He said in those instances, they weren't shown the big moments in their lives.  Instead, they were shown all the little things they had done, and the ripple effect of those small acts of kindness.

I was talking to a friend the other day about feeling like I really don't "DO" anything good or useful in the world, how I feel like sometimes I just waste space.  She told me I don't have to do anything big, but it's just the small ways I impact people that count.

Another friend surprised me flowers and a teddy bear last week.  She said I should never minimize the positive effect I have on others.

I feel like maybe I'm being sent a message that I should pay attention to here.

I think a lot of us are looking for that big impact.  We want to KNOW without a doubt that we matter, and we think we need to aim for high value targets to make sure.  How will we really know unless it's something that makes people sit up and take notice?

I think I'm pretty average.  I have a nice singing voice, I'm functional with the guitar.  I like to play around with doodling and other art.  I enjoy cooking.  I like to be available for people when they need someone.  But I don't think I stand out at anything - I know someone better at every single thing I do.  I'm realizing that because of that, I've been devaluing myself.  I don't make the big splash, therefore I don't matter that much.  

What a sad way to live.  Our value doesn't depend on what we do or don't do.  Each of us has value because we're alive, created by God.  It's not about doing some big, noticeable thing; that doesn't make us worth more.

Remember the ripples.

taste and see

 This past summer, as a result of a major depressive episode, I spent some time on a locked floor of a psychiatric hospital.  I've had these episodes before, but this one crept up on me and I suddenly found myself unable to cope with the idea of living.  Thankfully, I realized I was in an unhealthy place and was able to make the decision to be safe before I harmed myself.

In the hospital, they changed my meds and I slowly got a little better.  I spent days just laying in my bed there, emerging only for meals.  After about a week, I went home, still nervous about whether I'd be safe by myself, but unwilling to stay in a hospital that was a good distance from home and costing a chunk of money.  

It's been a long road back from that dark place - more med and dosage changes, lots of down time, an alternative treatment with a promising success rate.  I've made changes to my diet, pushed through the body pain and ennui to exercise more.  I've emptied my schedule of activities and limited my commitments.  I feel the stigma of doing less in a "do more" culture, but I have to choose my mental health over what society says.

Today I went for a walk outside - my first in awhile due to the weather.  I left my earbuds at home and entered in to this feast for my senses.

I felt the warm sun on my skin. The gentle breeze caressed my face.  

I heard the chick-a-dee-dee and other bird song (and earlier in the morning, from my deck, the call of Canada geese, coming home).

And the "Good morning!" of other walkers and runners.

And the "On your left!" of bikers passing me on the trail.

I smelled the slightly pungent scent of new growth, pushing up through the carpet of rotting leaves, and the waft of freshly laundered clothing as people passed by.

I saw kelly green growth of new moss, bushes budding, bugs sunning themselves on a concrete wall, tiny purple flowers raising their faces to the sun.  I saw a dad with two wee daughters, lovers holding hands, friends chatting, a boy on a tricycle with his mama following closely as his brother ran ahead.

I tasted the cool water from my rubber-encased, glass bottle, and the refreshing bite of an iced coffee from the cafe at the end of my walk.

There's a verse in the Bible that says, "Taste and see that the Lord is good."  In the dark place, that goodness can be hard to believe in.  I did find it.  I tasted it in the friends who checked in with me, in my husband's gentle care.  I saw it in the beauty of snow and the cozy comfort of a warm fire.  

Today, though, I feel a bit like I'm coming back to life.  Goodness, indeed.

roe v wade debate

 Last week, the US Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade.

My heart has been increasingly heavy as I've watched social media and the news since the decision.  The stark division in this country feels appalling and devastating to me.  Inflammatory misinformation is running rampant worldwide, and people everywhere are up in arms against each other.

I have friends and acquaintances across the globe.  Some are from the LGBTQ+ community, some are straight.  Some are pro-choice, others are pro-life. They are conservative and liberal, rich and poor, fat & thin, tall & short, male, female, and other.  Some have special needs.  Some are professionals.  Some are entrepreneurs. I've done life with single parents and people who have no children.  I know homeschoolers, private schoolers, and public schoolers.  My friends span cultures, skin tones, and belief systems.

This week, I am grieving as I watch people all around me eviscerate each other because they disagree.  How can we allow such discord?  Why are we so unable to live in harmony? Are we really so threatened by anyone who disagrees with us?  We lump anyone and everyone who holds different beliefs into this huge pot of "WRONG" and just stir it up without a second of thought.  We take up flimsy excuses for our hate and blanket our opponents and congratulate ourselves for sounding so right and righteous.

Look, I know that this decision feels crucial.  I understand that people are worried about the court overturning other laws that they cherish.  What I don't understand is why we can't be civil and respectful.  Why can't we have compassion and hold space for one another?  

Pro-choice supporter:  you've felt the elation of a ruling in your favour. 

Pro-lifer:  you know what it's like to grieve and and grapple with fear over governmental decisions.

Do to others as you would have done to you.  Walk a mile in the other person's shoes. Think of others before yourself. Please...seek peace in this broken world.

truth

I've been thinking about the word "truth" lately.

Truth is a controversial word.  It seems simple:  the quality or state of being true; in accordance with fact or reality (from Oxford Languages).

The problem is, truth can be relative.  Don't get me wrong, I do believe in absolute truth. I mean, the truth is, there is no such thing as a square circle.  The truth is, if you drop something within gravity's pull, it will fall.  I also happen to believe that absolute truth exists within the spiritual realm: there is a God.  I am not him.

The way I'm thinking of relative truth is in the way of the old story of the blind men and the elephant.  Each of the ten men spoke the truth about what they saw through their fingertips.  But the absolute truth of what an elephant looks like was found in the combination of their ten relative truths.

A lot of people talk about "my truth."  People want to speak and believe their own truths about things.  I used to have a problem with that, because I didn't understand how truth could be different for different people.  But everyone has a side.  Everyone has an opinion.  Everyone has a unique experience.

I've seen relative truth divide people, and it makes me sad. I wish we could all listen to each other's truth with open ears and hands.  I wish we could validate each other.  The phrase, "I see you" is being thrown around a lot these days, but I wish it was more heartfelt, not just the latest buzz phrase.

The absolute truth is, if two or more people have a common experience, there will be two or more truths.  It's for us to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry. It's for us to hear each other - for me to hear you without rising to my own defense, and you to hear me without rising to your own defense.  It's for us to realize and acknowledge that we do not have the corner on the market for truth, that our personal version of the truth is not necessarily THE truth. It's for us to be humble, conciliatory, willing to own our part in the other person's truth, willing to be kind and gentle in our presentation and in our hearing.  It's for us to present our own truth in a way that doesn't aim to maim another person. It's for us to be honest with ourselves as we tell our truth to each other, admit our desire to lash out, to make others embrace our truth, to deny the truth of others, and to resist that desire.

Maybe if we combine our relative truths to see the whole, we can tend to each others' wounds, offer each other grace, and continue in gentle relationship with one another.  Maybe we can clean up the mess of this world.

#irunwithmaud

Today, Ahmaud Arbery should be celebrating his 26th birthday with his family in friends.  It's not Covid-19 that is keeping them apart, but the fact that he was gunned down while out for a run on February 23rd in a Georgia neighbourhood. The perpetrators, with close ties to the law enforcement community, went free until yesterday, over two months later.

This morning, I ran. The dreary, drizzling weather seemed appropriate, nature weeping for lost souls.

I thought about this young man's family, and prayed for them in their grief.

I thought about the state of this country's justice system, that it would allow such a heinous cover-up, exposed only because of public outcry on social media.

I thought about the fact that as a woman, I often run, not necessarily afraid, but nervous.

I thought about God, the Creator of Ahmaud Arbery, nature, and us all.



Genesis 1:26a Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness." 27 God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.  28a God blessed them.

Here are some things God didn't mention when he created us:
~ race
~ religion
~ gender identity
~ superiority

We are ALL image bearers, all of us together! We can't be image bearers alone, without every nation, every tribe, every language, every colour.  When God created, there was no such thing as religion, race, gender identity, or any of the other things that separate us.  There was only God, man, woman, LOVE.


Be love, friends.
Be image bearers.
Be love.

grief day

Yesterday was a sort of "grief day".

I ventured out to pick up a few things from the store: milk, veggies, jam for the local food bank, dog bones, and the ever-present wish-list item, toilet paper. At the store, I donned my mask and walked to the entrance. There was an employee guarding the door to make sure people lined up and waited, at the appropriate 6-foot intervals, because they were limiting the number of shoppers. I wasn't allowed to bring in my reusable bags. As I entered, I was instructed to exit by the entrance at the opposite end of the store. 

While in the store, signs directed me, one way down each aisle and reminders abounded to observe social distance. The paper goods aisle was bare, but for a few lonely packages of paper towel - no toilet paper for me, again. Other items were also beginning to be in short supply, with employees spreading the stock out on shelves to make it look less alarming.

Another employee was directing people at the checkout, mask firmly in place. When I finished with my self-checkout, someone else came behind me, armed with a spray bottle and paper towel, to give the station a thorough wipe down before the next customer could enter. And as I left the store, a man on spoke into a two-way radio, relaying the exit of one person to the entrance guard.

As an introvert with grown children, I love staying home. My husband has a stable income. As someone who has had the privilege of travel, I've visited and lived in third world countries, where every grocery list is a wish list, and a grocery store is a tiny storefront with a narrow aisle in, and a narrow aisle out. I've cooked from scratch and used a community spigot for water. I don't have the shell shock that many families and individuals find themselves experiencing right now.

So many westerners have never been touched by want, or the kind of uncertainty and lack of perceived control of these past few weeks. Suddenly they can't have what they want in the store. They can't come and go as they please. They can't go out and have their food cooked, plated, served, and cleaned up. They can't go to the gym or the salon. So many parents are scrambling as they try to work from home and occupy or school their children for the first time. Families who were dependent on two incomes are down to one, or none, without notice. 

My sadness is for them. But it is also for the others, because I hear them. I hear the other side, scoffing and sarcastic: 

"Oh no, they'll have to actually cook and clean!"

"They can't just have what they want? Poor, privileged people!"

"They aren't homeschooling! They have no idea what it's like to do all the work like homeschooling parents do!"

"Oh, so they have to entertain their own children. What a trial!"

"Huh. They can't just do what they want.... Pity!"

Yes. I understand. Many in the western world are privileged. They've not had to struggle or go without. Sometimes it can feel like just desserts to see the wealthy experiencing what the rest of the world deals with on a daily basis. But I feel compassion just the same. To be thrust into the bewildering panic of the unknown, the confusion of performing activities rarely or never done, the overwhelm of suddenly not being able to provide wants and needs for self and family -- these are difficult and scary things.

My prayer: May we all develop deeper character. May we be more kind. May we think of others more often. May we grow more generous. May we offer help more readily. May we hold our wants more lightly, passing them over in favour of others' needs. May we be more grateful. May we give thanks for the many things we take for granted. May we be less critical and more supportive of each other. May we all see with clearer eyes what we have to offer and what we have to learn, and may we engage in both the offering and the learning with whole hearts. May we seek more to bless than to receive.

Amen.

covid-19 easter

Because it's Easter weekend and most of us will be celebrating differently than we are used to in light of Covid-19, I'd like to share what it means to me to be a follower of Jesus.

For most of my life, being a Christian meant observing the rules.  I didn't feel quite good enough, but surely if I could just do the right things, and do them properly enough, I'd be acceptable.  But about twelve years ago, that began to change.  It's been, and continues to be, a very long process with lots of hiccups along the way, but I'm coming to understand that following Christ is not about rules.  

God created me. He loves me. Before I ever decided to "be a Christian", God wanted to be in my life.

Having Jesus doesn't mean life is easy. He doesn't promise that with him, all will be well.  I experience grief, pain, loss, and hurt. I deal with the reality of disappointments, not getting what I want, and worry about the safety of my family.  

The difference that Jesus makes for me is that I'm not alone.  When I receive bad news, when I'm angry or afraid, when something bad happens, when I can't be with people I love, I'm not alone. I'm not guaranteed protection in this world.  But I am guaranteed that in all things, I have the presence of Jesus.  

I've been in screaming emotional pain, so bad that I don't know how to take the next breath, so bad that I can't speak.  In those moments, when I just want to die, I experience his presence.  There's no way to explain it, except that somehow, the next breath comes, and then the next, each a little easier than the last.  The pain remains, but I'm able to stand up under it for the next moment. 

I've felt completely isolated, cut off from all who love me, misunderstood and judged, like I'll never be able to approach community again.  In that moment of absolute aloneness, I've felt him drawing near, assuring me that I'm not a plague, that I am indeed, loved.

I've felt the despair and utter hopelessness of depression so deep that I can't think of one good reason to live; I can't bring myself to worry about the person who might find me, I can't see my way through the fog to the idea that anyone might miss me.  I can't care that I might be selfish or self-absorbed.  And somehow in the middle of that pit, God's presence has come and lain beside me.

Relationship with Jesus means there is one person in my life who understands me completely.  I am wholly known, and wholly loved.  Jesus knows the ugliest parts of my heart and soul and accepts me.  He doesn't love me because... or if... or when.... He loves me. Period.  

i am a leader

I recently had the opportunity to read a pre-launch copy of a book called I Am A Leader: When Women Discover the Joy of Their Calling by Dr. Angie Ward, and I want to tell you about it.

First of all, a bit of history.  Angie and I "met" when we were both part of an online writing course together in 2017.  We didn't have a lot of interaction through the course, but when she decided to write this book, she put out a request for women to be a part of her research, and I responded.  I filled out a questionnaire and then had a Skype interview.  It was a great conversation, and when she acquired a publisher, I readily agreed to be on her launch team, which afforded me the pre-read.

Now, I have to mention that this whole "calling" thing has been on my mind for a number of years.  Some Christians believe that everybody has been given a specific calling.  Others believe that our calling is to just do the thing that we find in front of us to the best of our ability.  I was sort of vacillating between the two because I like the idea of God being one who knows me intimately and has a Purpose for me (remember The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren?  Yep, I read that).  I think most people long for purpose, spiritual beliefs aside.  But I've never really believed in my value enough to really believe there's a Purpose for my life.  So that's the backdrop to my journey through Angie's book.

I Am a Leader was so helpful.  Angie offered succinct definitions of what purpose and calling mean, and then she delved into the things that stand in the way of a woman discovering her calling.  The book became a guide as I processed what it means to be a leader and how to embrace that role, and figured out how my gifts and dreams are a part of my calling toward leadership as a woman.  All of this, as I mentioned above, has been swirling in my head for a long time.  Angie's book helped me organize it.

Something that I really loved about the book was that it included throughout, thoughts from many of the women Angie had interviewed during the research process.  These were refreshing, thought-provoking, informative, and reassuring. I appreciated her desire and effort to represent women everywhere who are on the journey toward calling as a leader.


You can pick up a copy of
Dr. Angie Ward's book on Amazon through this link:
https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B07T44CC4V&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_gSLHEbCZRN1YB

the value of being

I spent the last two weeks driving around the states of Wyoming, Montana, and Utah.  As much as my summer trip hiking the Appalachian Trail had me marveling at the macro-lens beauty in the flowers and fauna around me (consider the lilies), this trip had me captivated, reveling in the incredible majesty of the rugged, snow-capped mountains, treacherous rims and breaks, piercing blue skies, rolling fields as far as the eye could see, and the all-around vastness of the American west.

By time I was preparing for my flight home, I felt tears threatening.  It wasn't so much because I was sad to go home; I mean, I missed my pup dreadfully! #petmom  Rather, I felt so full of the beauty and glory, that I was overwhelmed almost to the point of shutdown.  Maybe I'm weird, I don't know, but I felt like I didn't have any more room for the feast of colour and wonder that surrounded me.  I suppose if I lived out west, I might become less affected in about a decade or so, but on this, my first trip to the region, it was all-encompassing.

Sometimes people talk about the sense of being small and insignificant when they are surrounded by the expanse of stars in an open sky or the craggy peaks lost in the clouds.  King David the poet wrote a psalm expressing this very thought, a feeling I have shared. Psalm 8:3-4 

But on this trip, I carried a constant sense of being seen and known in the midst of the grandeur.  I  could almost hear the divine whisper, "Yes I made all this loveliness, and I made all the loveliness of you, my most precious, valuable, amazing piece of art.  You are more treasured than all the stars in the sky, more significant that the highest towering peak.  I see what I've made around you, and I zoom in on your heart and soul.  As you marvel at the mountains, the angels marvel at you."

I have wrestled with the notion of my worth for most of my life.  I know many people share this struggle, and wonder, "Why am I here?  What good am I?"  On this trip, in the sweeping vistas I somehow caught a glimpse of the value of my being:  simply because I exist, I have worth.  How's that for something to wrap your brain around?  Try it... simply because YOU exist, you have worth.

Because I believe in God, I believe in more than the happenstance of the Big Bang.  The more I see of the world in both broad view and close-up, the more convinced I am that there had to have been intention behind the formation of the universe.  But my belief in God also leads me to cultivate a relationship with Jesus Christ, his son, and that's where my comfort in being known is found.  I take solace in knowing that the hand that paints the glory of a sunset, holds my own hand, and that I am loved. 

consider the lilies

For our 25th anniversary, my husband and I went hiking for a week in the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, along the Appalachian Trail.  The hours of quiet, the breezes, scents, sounds, and views were like water to my soul.  The hard work of shouldering a 30+ pound pack on the up-and-down of a steep and rocky terrain, allowed me to enter into a kind of meditative state where physical pain simply rolled in and out of my consciousness, duly noted and fading as I walked, thought, prayed, and listened.

We saw so much beauty in the sweeping vistas and in the macro lens, but it was the macro that got me thinking one day.  I love taking pictures of flowers and mushrooms, snails and butterflies, snakes and chipmunks, all the fascinating things we see in nature.  I wanted to stop at every third step, to snap and share the beauty of creation with others.  As we walked through a narrow tunnel of tall wildflowers, I felt almost an obsession to take a picture of every one, and then I got to thinking about the flowers on the other side of the hill, where there was no trail, and I wanted to find them and take pictures of them as well, even though I knew it wasn't possible.


What struck me that day was that the beauty in this world IS.  It's just here.  Not because of us or for us.  There is a daisy in a field somewhere that I will never see, just as gorgeous as the one in front of me at this moment.  No human eye will ever see it, and yet its beauty remains.  I'm filled with awe at the reality that MOST of the beauty in this world will go unseen by the human eye.  Why is it there?  What is its purpose?



I think there is one who sees every flower, every blade of grass, every humming bee.  The Creator of the beauty, he sees all of it and loves it.  Something about this makes me...content.  Maybe it's just freeing and refreshing to remember that everything is not about me.


There is a verse in the Bible that says, "Consider how the wildflowers grow: they do not labour or spin thread. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendour was adorned like one of these." Luke 12:27 CSB  


 I rest in the knowledge that nothing in the universe goes unnoticed.

socks, texts, and other gifts

At the risk of coming off as self-absorbed, it's time to confess:  sometimes I struggle with feeling invisible.  Forgotten.  Out of sight, out of mind.  I get stuck thinking if I'm not purposeful enough in my relationships, my existence will fade.  The struggle is real; at least it is for me.  Don't misunderstand, it's not that I want to be the centre of everyone's universe, but I mean let's be real here, it's nice to know we're loved.  Right?

Most of the time, I can talk myself out of the funk that comes with believing I am unimportant to everyone, valued by no one.  I AM loved, of course.  And anyway, my value does not depend on others.  I find my worth in the eyes of my Jesus.

But here's the thing:  it helps to hear it out loud sometimes.

Awhile ago, a friend and I got together after she had come home from vacation, and she handed me a little box.  Now, I LOOOVE presents, but I was taken aback...it wasn't my birthday or Christmas, and my friend is not normally a "gifter" like me.  It was totally unexpected.  She just kind of laughed and said, "Open it!"  Inside was a pair of socks with sloths on them.  Yes, bring on the trumpets and fanfare!  What the heck for? you might ask.  Well, not only do I LOOOVE presents, I LOOOVE sloths.  I mean, the sloth is my totem animal.  But more breath-taking to me is that this friend, who is not into sloths or presents, saw this pair of socks in a gift shop and immediately thought of me.  She was away on vacation with her husband, when of course I would never expect to be on her mind.  Are you getting how valued that made me feel?

Another recent happening was that out of the blue one day, I received a text from a friend, saying she had been thinking about me and was praying for me that day.  Thinking about me?  Why?? I didn't text her.  I hadn't seen her in awhile.  I wasn't working to make sure I was on her radar.  Why on earth would I have come to her mind?  And then, not only did she think about me, she lifted me up to Jesus.  Again, I felt my value, all the way to my core.

My God never forgets me.  His eye is always on me.  This means that he is capable of bringing me to the minds of others when he knows I need "encouragement with skin on" because I'm feeling like I don't exist.

How lovely to be that gift of encouragement for my friends and loved ones.  I want to be a sweet reminder to others that they matter, that they are valued, that they are loved.

getting it "right"

I worry about navigating through life the right way.  All.  The.  Time.  Am I alone here or can I get an "amen"?

- ??? -

Right according to WHO?

IS there a right or wrong way to get through one's junk?

Are you worried as often as I am about messing up?  Do you feel like you have to achieve someone else's standard in order to legitimize your own process?  Do you wonder why you feel like you have to justify - your trauma, your healing journey, your interaction with God, your moods...everything?

What if my process is unique to ME, and your process is unique to YOU, because that's how God orchestrated it?  Maybe not one other person on the planet would come to a place of healing by your road or my road.  It could be that someone else would never understand, never make an ounce of progress toward wholeness the way you or I have.  Maybe God works with another person in a way that is unique to their relationship and how he created that person.

So what if other people don't get it?  Do we really have to care if other people judge our processes as "not the right way"?  Rather, can we call it God's way for you (or me, or him, or her)?

Now look, I'm not saying this to gain license to go do whatever I want.  There is a verse in the Bible (Galatians 5:13) that speaks to self-indulgence and chasing after anything you want - that's not what this is about.

But, I'm beginning to wonder if I need stop looking around to gauge the temperature of the crowd, so to speak, and start giving Jesus a closer look.  This is what I see:  God made me.  I am a creative and an empath.  Maybe he is bringing me through this journey of life in the most effective way he can, unique to who I am, for maximum value, maximum impact.  For me.

So, who are you?  What are you like?  How did God make you?  What are your gifts and talents and characteristics and flaws and likes and dislikes.... And how is he carrying you along on your own growth journey?

Could we stop worrying about getting it right ourselves, and instead thank God that he gets it right, every time?

God showing up

It's so interesting to me, how God shows up.  I'm constantly surprised (why surprised? is my faith so small?), sometimes delighted, sometimes ambivalent, but always, there is the "Ahaaaa!"

This past summer, I participated in a Bible study called Big Fresh Faith by Lisa DeVries.  For six weeks, my group studied the power and presence of God in our lives.  Driven deep for me was the certain knowledge that God desires intimacy with me, something that generated fear down to my marrow.

To order Big Fresh Faith, follow this link:
https://www.amazon.com/Big-Fresh-Faith-Revived-Presence/dp/177519440X

As I wrestled with the idea of allowing myself to be fully known by God, my church life group chose the book for our fall course of study:  He Calls You Beautiful by Dee Brestin.  Not surprisingly (but I was still surprised) it is all about intimate relationship with God.  For the past 7 months or so, I've been swimming, immersed, awash in, drenched by this concept.  Clearly, God wants to get a point across, and he knows that I take a long time to come to trust.

Part of my reticence toward intimacy with God is rooted in self-loathing on all levels:  physical, emotional, mental, spiritual.  I recognize the problem and I do long to come to a healthier place.  With that goal in mind, I recently started a 16-wk health and fitness program that focuses on changing perspectives of food and body.  

To order He Calls You Beautiful, follow this link:
https://www.amazon.com/He-Calls-You-Beautiful-Hearing/dp/1601429908

"Coincidentally" (not), I am now preparing to begin a Bible study in January called Taste and See by Margaret Feinberg.  It's all about food in the Bible, and I can already tell it promises an overhaul of my perspective of food, eating, mealtimes, and more.  I am acutely aware of God's timing and his gentle guidance over the past half-year.  I'm eager to dive into this new study by Margaret Feinberg.  I'm certain he's leading me to healing and I'm curious to see how he will use Taste and See to accomplish his purpose.

To preorder Taste and See, follow this link:
https://www.amazon.com/Taste-See-Discovering-Butchers-Bakers/dp/0310354862

It all comes back around to his desire for relationship with me.  He has a fascinating, unique way of leading and interacting with each of his people in order to bring us to deeper understanding and closer relationship with him.  How have you seen him guiding your path over the past 6 months??

big fresh faith

I just finished this study called Big Fresh Faith by Lisa DeVries.  Let me tell you a bit about it.

https://www.amazon.com/Big-Fresh-Faith-Revived-Presence/dp/177519440X

The study is broken into six weeks - but let me just say, even though we kept to the six-week time frame, my group could have easily spent twelve!  Each week starts with a short video, and then proceeds with five days of diving deeper.  

And boy, will you dive!  We hashed through belief and unbelief, intimacy and reverence, mercy and atonement, abundant life, and more.  My group's meetings were filled with thoughtful questions, sharing, lots of "yeah but's" and "what about's", light bulb moments, rabbit trails, and self-evaluating.  All of us came to the end with a fresh perspective on our faith and excitement for the continuing faith journey.

Watch the trailer.  Read the reviews.  Get the book and start your own journey through it.  I believe it is well worth the investment.  Come back and comment when you're done.  I'd love to hear what you gained from it.

Big Fresh Faith Trailer

remembering Sharon

You've filled my thoughts since I woke this morning, your name on my lips, your face in my mind's eye.  I've thought of you on this day through more than twenty passing years.  Your birthday, and this year you are memory.

It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, so Alfred Lord Tennyson supposed, and it's true.  The earth is richer for your presence; the legacy you left behind is lasting and beautiful.  I feel your absence with a keenness that surprises me; ours was a friendship that flowed and ebbed, and I didn't expect to miss you so upon your leaving.

Our first days together swung largely on the whims of others.  We were young, our children were small, our mates were alike in nature and interest, and we found ourselves together.  Kindred spirits, you and I were not...but we gained more through the crucible of years:  we became sisters.

Our last days together:  sweet gifts, all.  We spoke from the heart of love, faith, grace, forgiveness, paradise waiting.  We sang and prayed together in worship to our common Father.  These precious moments of sharing are memories dear beyond measure.

Today, a rose for your earthly resting, fond thoughts spoken together with others touched by your life, prayers of love for your family and for ourselves in the grief of missing you.  We carry on in hope; may your legacy of faith, love, and friendship be continued with us.

smacked in the face with mortality

I feel like I've been smacked in the face with mortality.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the memorial service of a friend's mom.  She was a spicy lady I met only one time, a little rough around the edges, who made me smile.  I hoped she would recover so I would have the chance to know her, but no.  Her service was a lovely glimpse into the life of a giving and loved woman who followed the Lord with practicality.  I felt like I got to know her a little, in listening to the memories, laughter, and tears of her friends and family.

Yesterday I went to a memorial service for a young mom from my church, who died unexpectedly.  We were casual friends who didn't walk life intimately, but still, I was jolted over and over last week with the odd feeling that I was going to wake up from a bad dream, that I would walk into church on Sunday morning and see her vibrant smile.  Of course, no.  Her service was full of memories, tears, love, laughter, faith, and the call to follow Christ.

Very soon, I'll be participating in the memorial service for a long-time friend who is approaching the end of this life.  We've spent precious time together over the past 4 months, wrestling with questions about suffering and death, sharing thoughts about life and eternity, encouraging one another in the pursuit of Jesus.  I've treasured the enormous privilege of ministering to her through song as she's grieved loss and battled pain.  Her service will be a beautiful testimony to a life well-lived.

Earthly life is a vapour; how am I spending mine?  Someday I'll wake up to my real Life, and I want the memories of me to be sweet.  I want to be known for my passion for Jesus.  I want to be remembered for love.  kindness.  compassion.  generosity.  integrity.  authenticity.

How about you?

meeting Jesus

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the bleeding woman in the Bible.  Her story can be found in Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34, and Luke 8:43-48.  Here's a Jes-version paraphrase:

So this woman has been ill with some kind of bleeding problem for 12 long years.  She's gone to doctor after doctor and spent all she has on finding a cure, to no avail; in fact, she's sicker than ever.  She's heard about the man, Jesus, who heals people from disease, and today, she finds out he's come to her region.  She longs to get close to him.

[Now understand, Jewish law was super-strict about cleanliness.  A bleeding problem would mean you were unclean and could not be a part of the community.]  Imagine if she's found out:  an unclean woman, entering a crowd, touching countless people and making them unclean!  But this woman is desperate.  If it's true that he heals diseases, she could be freed from this curse forever.  She decides to brave the risk because after all, what does she have to lose?

Off she goes, and soon she reaches the outskirts of the milling crowd.  She can't call out to Jesus, because that would draw unwanted attention.  She thinks that maybe if she could just manage to touch his clothing, she will be healed, so she eases her way through the crowd until she's behind him.  She reaches out and brushes his robe with her finger and immediately feels it:  SHE'S HEALED.

Imagine!

There's more to the story, but here's where I went today:  I thought about my life as a follower of Jesus.  I think when I'm not careful, I settle for being a part of the crowd.  I walk with him, ride the wave of ministry, enjoy seeing him in action.  I marvel at his good work and feel glad to be a part of the family of God.

But if I'm just a part of the crowd, I miss out on experiencing him personally.  I lose touch with my own desperation and forget just how badly I need him in the every day.  The bleeding woman has nothing left and she knows Jesus has what she needs, so she very purposefully reaches for him.  She seeks to touch him in faith, even afraid, and receives healing.

I'm just like her, so often.  I'm so afraid in the crowd of people, afraid to be noticed for my unclean state, afraid to be denied what I so badly want and need.  I love how Jesus responds to her.  He notices her even in her attempt to stay hidden, knowing she's unclean but not exposing that truth to the crowd.  He doesn't shame her, but he commends her faith and calls her daughter, giving her acceptance and love.

What a sweet, intimate meeting in the middle of the chaos.

Yes, please.

unflappable God

The faithfulness of God astounds and overwhelms me.  On the one hand, how can I be astonished?  It's GOD.  I AM.  On the other hand, may I never lose the wonder of this all-consuming God whom I follow.  He is breathtaking.

Doubt.  One of satan's handiest tools, he nurses the seeds with a religious fervor.  I need a story for my writing course, and I have no ideas.  I've always thought my best stories have the ring of God's voice, and so I decide to pray.  God, I need a story.  If you're calling me to this writing thing, it's up to you.  In the waiting, I speak my doubt to Brant:  "What if I'm not a writer?  Will you think it's been a waste for me to quit my job and pursue this if nothing pans out, if I never publish a thing?"

"No."  My husband says it unequivocally, with a small, unperturbed smile.  I supply my arguments:  I don't know if I'm a writer.  I don't know if I have anything to say.  I'm not sure people want to read anything from me.

"You sound like every other writer out there," he reminds me in his practical way, because I've told him about Francine Prose, Stephen King, Margaret Feinberg, Jonathan Merritt, and others whom I've read in recent months, and he knows even successful authors often hear the same song.

Yesterday I ran an errand to my current favourite CD, Elevation Worship's There is a Cloud.  As I drove and listened, I couldn't help but throw my hand out in worship (eyes open!), and I thought about the changes God has wrought in me, the freedom with which he's gifted me.  A crystal picture struck me, of a little girl with vines wrapped around her wrist and with the clarity of a "God-thought" I heard, "There it is, there's the story."  In tears and laughter, I marveled once again at his sweet habit of whispering my mustard seed into growth. So faithful!

Only hours later, I flounder again...how will I write this story, God?  I can't think of how to make it flow.  Was that really you?  Can I be sure you gave that to me?  Ah, my humanity...frustrating and humbling and necessary.  I pick up a book I've slowly been working through, I read about praying for and trusting God for the impossible, and in what can be no coincidence, a reference to Peter hopping out of the boat to walk on water to Jesus - that recurring theme he's been speaking to me.  I read about the waiting and hard work that can accompany a call from God.  I remember the journey I've been on and his unflappable faithfulness on the road.  With more tears, I acknowledge my utter dependence on his grace, surrender myself to his forgiveness, and settle in to wait and pray some more.