Invited in...

The other day, I saw a church Facebook post with a list of their upcoming events and worship services for the season of Advent – you know, the month-ish leading up to Christmas. The first two words of their post caught my eye and my heart:

Come home.

This church is a new start in the middle of suburban north Texas. Yes, most folks around here have probably been to a church at one point or another, may have even joined and had their name and contact information entered into a database, may have gotten pledge cards and small group information – but here is my question:

Can a church be our home?

Here is a list of things I associate with “home” 

• I can be myself there – no makeup, pajamas, may or may not have bathed that day, may or may not use a bit of profanity with the kids aren’t around
• I know where things are there – the water cups, the paper towels, the food, the comfortable places to sit, the bathrooms (and the extra toilet paper)
• The people who live there love me…and I love them. We get on each other’s nerves from time to time, but under all the normal rub of daily life, we love each other deeply.
• The people there know my story and I know theirs. We are constantly writing our stories together.

My husband and I have moved 8 times in our 15 years of marriage, so the physical space has become less and less important as long as our “home” can house all the things we need to make “home” together. We’ve added and subtracted bedrooms, given away furniture that no longer had a place, officed behind doors or in open spaces, cooked food in narrow galleys or wide open places with plenty of countertops.

But within whatever walls make our house, we make home there together. And I’m wondering how church can do the same. A few years ago, a church leader spoke of the difference it makes in a person’s life when they have “home” – a physical home, a medical home, and – yes – a faith home. When we put down roots and invest ourselves to the point of considering a place a home, we are healthier and more whole.

I know lots of folks who have a home where they lay their weary bodies down. And I know others who find a common home in coffee shops and bars, where the folks there know their names. I pray that we make our faith places homes – for ourselves and for others.

One of the new ways of being church and community that I love is Union Coffee. Recently I attended their State of the Union and 5^th birthday party as they shared stories, songs, cookies, and the news that they will soon be closing the doors on this location as they look toward two new places that will become home. One song they sing as a part of worship regularly speaks to this idea of home:

     Hold on, to me as we go
     As we roll down this unfamiliar road

     And although this wave is stringing us along
     Just know you’re not alone
     'Cause I’m going to make this place your home

     Settle down, it'll all be clear
     Don't pay no mind to the demons
     They fill you with fear
     The trouble it might drag you down
     If you get lost, you can always be found

     Just know you’re not alone
     'Cause I’m going to make this place your home

                                         - Phillip Phillips, “Home”

Dear ones, where do you find your home? 

What does it take for a place to feel like home for you?

Entrusting Our Selves

Recently, the senior pastor of the church I serve was going to be absent on a Sunday morning. So, I was preaching, but I wanted to hand over as many of the other pieces of worship as possible because:

1. Lay persons, that is everyone who is not clergy, are fully capable and called by God to ministry (just look at our baptismal vows), which can include leading portions of worship
2.  I get tired of my own voice, so I can’t image how other folks would deal with a whole of hour of so much me.

I invited our lay leader, a gifted woman with a beautiful soul, to share the prayers of the people, offer her own prayer, and then guide us into the Lord’s Prayer. I entrusted her with this portion of our worship together.

That Sunday came, and she and I were working out the logistics together – did she want to use a headset microphone or a handheld one – how would she receive the little slips of paper with the prayers of the people on them – where should she stand as she prayed? She seemed a little confused as to why I asked her to do this at all and I confided this – it is a gift to me to be able to entrust my soul to someone else as we pray. And I felt safe in her prayers.

That is how I imagine corporate prayer. When I was new to church, I remember the prayers led by a retired clergyman who served there. His deep voice seemed to handle each prayer like a full-blown flower, gently lifting it, tracing its beauty, and commending it to God. I imagined all the souls gathered in the sanctuary like water droplets in a rising tide – so small alone and yet so mighty together. And when he prayed, I could fully entrust my soul to his steering.

Unfortunately, there have been many times when I have withheld my soul from a corporate prayer. It may have been that I could not, in good conscience, agree to or with the one praying. It may have been that there was some fracture in the relationship between us, such that I could not entrust myself to their care or leadership. In those moments, I dutifully assume the posture of prayer, but I clearly feel the deep chasm that separated my soul from the other souls gathered in the moment.

 A couple of years ago, I had the humbling honor to midwife an open adoption. At that time, the two families and I worked on an entrustment ceremony that would surround the bare reality of the baby’s birth and raising with ritual. And while we never enacted that service, there were moments of grace all around as we put language on what it was that we were doing as two families became one through the life of one precious soul.

In this current climate, I wonder how often and where we entrust ourselves to another. We are hard-wired for connection, we crave the gifts of community, but it’s hard to put down our defenses and allow others to see and care for the broken, beautiful, vulnerable core of who we are. We have to find others who are worthy of our hearing our stories.

In those moments, when we can entrust ourselves to another, we catch a glimpse of the indwelling life of God – God whose own being is mutual love within the Trinity. It’s a fleeting reminder that God’s reign can come on earth as it is in heaven. I pray that we all might experience those entrusting moments.

Courage in Relationships

One of my favorite parts of the holidays is the way it brings together friends and family. I’m not great at sending birthday cards or having long phone conversations, so I appreciate cultural norms that bring us face to face. There’s nothing like really connecting with others when you share space.

I also love people-watching. When I was working on my undergraduate degree, I nearly got a minor in sociology – the academic way to say people-watching. And in seminary, I took family system classes – the theological, psychological way to say people-watching.

So I couldn’t help but watch during holiday get-togethers. I noticed how unkind one dear woman was to herself. When something would go awry, she would often preface her aside with “well, that was stupid…” or “I’m so stupid…” I was saddened that a mature, faithful woman would speak so harshly to herself. And you know that there was probably more going on internally.

I noticed the curious way we all fall back on old habits when we are around our family of origin – the family we grew up with. When we’re with our parents, we can’t help but become something like the children we once were, and sometimes that’s not very pretty. We follow long standing patterns of relating with siblings – teasing them about weight, lateness, etc. – no matter how old we are.

Recently I’ve been trying to read my Brene Brown book, The Gifts of Imperfection, again. I can race through novels in under a week, but I’ve been trying to read this book for over a year because it’s like rich fudge – I can only read a little bit before it’s too much. I have to set it down to reflect.

Brown says that the three gifts of imperfection are courage, compassion, and connection. The latter two I get and value already. But she points out that the three are inextricably linked together. So it took me a while to unpack what she had to say about courage. It rang a bell in my mind because “courage” was the word I chose to guide my journey in 2014.

According to Brown, courage is less about heroics and more about the original definition of the word, which meant to share your heart by telling your story. If you think about it, and how all of our stories are complex messes of sweet successes and utter failures, you’ll have a good idea of why this is the definition of courage.

Brown also happens to be a shame researcher and it was through her work that she came to discover these gifts. Because shame can’t stand courage. Shame thrives on secrecy, embarrassment, and fear. When we overcome shame by having the courage to share our story, connecting with another in authentic relationship and receiving compassion, shame is banished!

Watching the dear ones in my life these holidays, I wondered how much of our familiar ruts are based on shame and just how much courage it would take to intentionally speak the truth of our lives to one another. And how much stronger our bonds could ultimately be if we did.

We’re built to live in relationship, with each other and with God. It’s no coincidence that Jesus says, “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them" (Matthew 18:20). It’s also not coincidental that this teaching comes right before the question of how many times we have to forgive one another. To be in relationship, we have to be ready and willing to exercise forgiveness muscles that may be weak from lack of use.

Another point Brown makes in her book that made me stop to reflect was about self-talk. If we are called to forgive our brothers and sisters, we are also called to forgive ourselves. And yet, think about your typical day. If you’re anything like me, you probably find yourself lacking in the mirror, on the scale, on the road, as a parent, and on and on. It’s easy for us to become our harshest critics.

But if we are to be loving and kind toward others, we have to start practicing that with ourselves. So, next time you find yourself slipping into the easy, unredeemed rut of speaking negatively toward yourself, remember the magnificent God who made you and have courage. You are a beloved child of God and nothing can change that. Praise be to God!

Summer Disciples

It’s officially summertime! Not being a student anymore, this doesn’t mean as much to me as it used to, but I still get the hankering for snow cones, watermelon, visits to family, and long days by the pool when the temperatures rise.

I know I’ve mentioned it before, but my husband teaches private music lessons in addition to his doctoral work. And every summer, he’s faced with the same challenge – students who have been diligently working to improve on their instrument and in their musicianship are eager to take a break.

I can relate. Who doesn’t want a break now and then? A chance to get away, relax, and break up the routine. My husband always has a serious conversation with his students, reminding them that if they take 3 months off, they will not pick up where they left off in the fall.

That’s true for all of us when it comes to the places in our lives when we are earnestly striving to grow. While a vacation may do us good, we don’t pick up in exactly the same place when we come back. It’s the same for a musician, an athlete, and a follower of Jesus. Being a pastor, I know that long, hot days and fun, late nights often mean skipping worship on Sunday. I really do understand and, on a morning like this past Sunday, when the wind’s blowing, the rain’s pouring, and the thunder’s rumbling, I would have been tempted to stay in bed if it were an option.

But, even before I was a clergyperson, I knew my life was better and stronger when I lived it with my family of faith. When I was away, especially for an extended period, like the years I was in seminary or the summers served with the Air Force, I missed things. I remember being heartbroken to find out about the deaths of dear souls when I got back. I missed the things that living out a committed relationship offered.

Likewise, the Bible is not just a story about God, but about divine love and God’s desire for relationship with us. While we may only gather to worship 1 hour each week, God wants to be a part of our lives 24/7. And God gives us brothers and sisters in our lives to help embody God’s love to us and for us to love in return.

To live healthy, whole lives as disciples, we need relationships, guides, and guards who can help us on our journeys and be with us when we reach our destinations. This summer, at the Krum Church, we’ll be considering 11 companions that every person needs on life’s journey. Each one becomes a gift of God to us. We’ll also look to see how we offer this companionship to others.

Just recently, I realized I was in need of some mentoring. Moving from being an associate pastor to a senior pastor has led me to find some of my growing edges. So I reached out to a couple of colleagues, asking them out to lunch, and bringing all my questions with me. It was such a blessing to sit with partners in ministry, sharing our hearts and experiences, as we continue to offer the good news of Jesus Christ in the world. I left each meeting with a renewed sense of call and purpose.

Strangely enough, I also find myself on the side of mentoring others. After six years of full-time ministry, I’ve learned a thing or two, so I regularly get calls, texts, e-mails, or Facebook messages from those seeking a word of wisdom or encouragement. I pray they find the same sense of blessing through our conversations.

We’re never done learning and growing in this life. We’re called to have one hand up, seeking to grasp the hand of those ahead of us and pulling ourselves forward. We’re called to have one hand back, offering our grip to those behind us and pulling them up with us. We stand in the gap, offering authentic, loving relationships on behalf of the God who loves all of us.

This Sunday, we’ll talk how we all need a Nathan in our lives. The name Nathan means “gift,” but Nathan the prophet was more than a gift to King David. During David’s reign, Nathan provided him with expert counsel on lots of things, but he also spoke directly to the heart of the king. May we all find a person who speaks to our heart.

Spirit-Filled

Not that long ago I was just beginning to attend church. I had come to be a Christian through a Wesley Foundation, a United Methodist campus ministry. So while I was familiar with praise music, loved communion, and was growing in faith through Bible study and relationships with other college students as well as the campus pastor, I had no idea about the church year.

I went to worship one Sunday to hear our pastor encourage us to wear red the next week to help celebrate the church’s birthday. I assumed it might be something special in this particular church, but I was in! I had nothing red, so that week I went shopping, found something that was reasonably priced, and looked forward to wearing it on Sunday.

That next Sunday was Pentecost. And while there were a lot of folks wearing red in the room, it wasn’t like any birthday party I was expecting. Instead, we heard the scripture story that is often pointed to as the origin of the church – Acts 2:1-17. The disciples, who had just witnessed Jesus ascend into heaven, were told before he went that they needed to wait.

They’re all gathered in one place, when suddenly there is an overwhelming sound like a violent wind and tongues that looked like fire, came to rest on each of them. They were filled with the Holy Spirit and could speak in other languages so that they could witness to the good news of Jesus Christ to all people.

Some people were amazed and in awe. Others assumed the worst – that these no-good followers of that radical rabbi were drunk. But Peter, always willing to step out ahead and called to be the rock of the new church, stood up to offer his witness to all. This was not drunkenness! This was the fulfillment of prophecy – “In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams” (Acts 2:17).

One thing I learned about the church year is that it repeats, starting over in Advent. This helps us follow the life of Christ through birth, ministry, death, and resurrection, imprinting upon us the pattern of the “pioneer and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2).

Come Sunday, it will again be time to celebrate the birth-day of the church, the pouring out of God’s Spirit upon God’s people, as we hear the Pentecost story. At the Krum Church, we’ll conclude these Great Fifty Days of Easter by affirming that Easter People are Spirit-Filled.

That pastor in the church I attended as a new disciple of Jesus asked us to wear red to remind us of the fiery nature of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit moves as it will, bringing forth new life, advocating for us and all creation, and praying for us when our words fail.

In the ancient near east, the writer of Acts tried to capture the nature of the Spirit with powerful metaphors like “strong wind, gale force” or a “wildfire” as Eugene Peterson renders it in his modern translation, The Message. I wonder if we tried to describe the Holy Spirit in our post-modern words what we would say.

Is the Holy Spirit like electricity, powering and illuminating our lives? Such a constant that we have no idea how we would do life without it? Or is the Holy Spirit more like the internet, connecting and informing us across all boundaries that were formerly considered insurmountable?

Of course, no language is ever adequate to capture the essence of God, but we are called to use words in our witness, as Peter does. When we use these metaphors, when we try to understand the nature of God with our finite minds, it’s like trying to capture the spirit of the sea in a Dixie cup. It’s true, as far as it goes, but it’s not the whole truth. But putting these glimpses together help us know God better.

God wants us to know him because that’s part of being in a relationship. Paul writes, “Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). So don’t underestimate the longing God has for you and your capacity to grow in love and understanding. I pray God pours out the Spirit upon us all so that we can be good news to the world!

Living in Community

Come Sunday at the Krum Church, we’ll remember that Easter people live in community. Not just the superficial community some of us may settle for – the wave to the neighbors, drive through downtown, smile politely but keep the deep things to ourselves stuff of over-scheduled, underfed lives. We are made to live in community. It’s what God intended! God, who lives in community within God’s own self in the eternal relationship between Father, Son and Holy Spirit, created us with the same capacity and necessity for love.

I found this wonderful story recently on Momastery, one of my favorite blogs: In carpentry, “sometimes an existing joist, which was designed to handle a certain load, becomes too weak. Maybe it was damaged by water or fire. Maybe it still has structural integrity but an addition is being constructed and the new load is going to be a lot heavier than before. Either way, now it is not as sturdy as it needs to be.

When a builder needs to strengthen that joist, she puts a new member right next to the original one and fastens the two together. Sometimes, two new joists are needed- one on either side. Do you know what they call that? A Sister Joist.”

We need our brothers and sisters and they need us. Sometimes something has happened in our lives, some tragedy or circumstance that has left us grieving and broken. Or perhaps good, new challenges have come along such as a change of job or the addition of children and the new load is heavier than before.

The common perception that Christianity is primarily about the individual and a personal relationship with Jesus Christ is an insidious, modern heresy. Like the serpent in the garden, it whispers that we can be enough on our own.

But look at Jesus’ own ministry! Jesus didn’t collect a studio of students and only teach private lessons. No, he called together a small group, knitting them together in relationship with himself as well as with one another. The small group of the disciples and their rabbi was dynamic and life-giving. It allowed for questions to surface and lessons to be taught while ensuring that when the teacher was no longer physically present, they wouldn’t be alone in this life. Not only would the disciples receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, to comfort and empower them, but they would have each other.

It’s a good thing for all of us who call ourselves Christian to echo this example. If, for today, we aren’t the joists that need shoring up, then we are the ones called to stand alongside others, to lend our strength for a season. Because it all goes around in time. Those who lend strength today will need to borrow it someday. And if we live outside a deep community, our resources in times of need will be sorely lacking.

Some of us are blessed to find our first and best community in our families. This week also brings us Mother’s Day, an American holiday which originated with Anna Jarvis, a laywoman from the Methodist Episcopal Church in Grafton, West Virginia in 1907.

While for some of us this holiday is a straight-forward obligation to call our moms or make sure we get a gift for the mother in our household, I ask us all to remember that for many, it’s not that simple. Motherhood, like any human relationship, can be a messy reality.

So, as you do your shopping or get your cards in the mail, consider praying for mothering relationships in all their forms. Those who have struggled with infertility. Those for whom motherhood was unwelcome or challenging. Those who have lost children to death. Those who have struggled in relationship with their mothers. Those who opened their hearts to children through adoption or foster care. Those who struggle to balance the demands of family life with work and other commitments.

Maybe Mother’s Day can be an opportunity to live a greater reality of what it means to be family. Jesus said, “Who are my mother and my brothers? Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother” (Mark 3:33, 35). In this simple statement, Jesus reconstitutes what it means to be a family, calling us to extend the love we usually reserve for our nuclear families much wider. So, this week, consider embracing the Creator’s blueprints and live in community.

Prom, Bad Choices, and Love

My mom came to visit recently. I was driving when I noticed her white knuckles as I exited the highway somewhere along I-35. Not taking her eyes from the road, she asked, “Don’t they have a yield sign?” Shrugging, I replied, “No, there are two lanes. We can both go. We just agree not to hit each other.”

The more I thought about it, the more I realized this as a metaphor for much of our daily living. It’s not a way of living life in all its fullness that comes by faith, but it’s a good start.

Similarly, I was struck by the lack of a traffic light in Krum when we first moved in. What I noticed at the four-way stop in downtown Krum is similar to what happens when I exit the highway. We recognize each person as they come to a stop. We let one another go. We take turns. It’s a lesson that I deeply appreciate as the mother of a 3-year-old. And it’s a lesson that we can often forget as adults in the relentless pursuit of me, mine, and more.

This past weekend, my son and I enjoyed the Easter Eggstravaganza hosted by the Christian Center Assembly of God. What an amazing party for our community! My son’s favorite stop was the Krum Police Department table. He wore his sticker for 3 days in a row, until the sticky had all worn off.

While we were there, I had a helpful conversation with one of the officers. He brought it to my attention that prom is coming up this Saturday night and wondered if I might say a word about responsible fun.

At first, I assumed he was talking about that prom night phenomenon which is usually prefaced by statements like “I love him/her!” “Everybody’s already doing it.” and “We’re graduating and we may never see each other again.” Surging hormones, young love, and a good party can set the stage for some bad choices. But the officer had something else in mind – drinking and driving.

There are conversations we need to have in our homes, whatever the age of your child, grandchild, niece/nephew, etc. My mom was always honest with me, figuring that if I could ask the question, I deserved the answer. And I find that many of our young people lack the basic information they often need to make good and wise decisions.

When I was a teenager going to parties, my mom said, “If you or your friends mess up, if you or your ride are in no condition to drive, call me. Whatever you’ve done, we’ll talk about it later. I would rather you get home safely and we can deal with the rest later.”

I was a typical teenager. I made mistakes, but I always knew that if I got stuck, I could call my mom. Yes, there may have been a whole lot of punishment on the other side, but I would be alive. She drilled this in to me and I knew she meant it. Because we had these conversations, I thought about my limits ahead of time. I was able to avoid some of the mistakes I might have made because I was able to become more grounded in the person I wanted to be, the person God made me to be, rather than folding under the weight of peer pressure.

I found myself echoing my mother’s words to me when I was an intern at a campus ministry. Many college students would celebrate their 21^st birthdays with a night of spectacularly bad decisions, but I made sure they had my number because I would much rather help with the fall out than their funeral.

So have these conversations, wherever you are. Be honest with the young people in your life, whether at home or at church. Tell them not only the truth about your life – its struggles as well as its joys – but the hopes and dreams you have for them.

Through real relationships, we give them our love, which is what God asks of us. Jesus says to his disciples, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12). That means not just when they’re making A’s, not just when they win a championship, not just when they’re bright and shiny. All the time. And through our love, they just might catch a glimpse of the all-encompassing, perfect love of God.

Blessed Be the Tie that Binds

I live a tethered life. That’s become my working shorthand for the complex web of relationships that have created and connected me in this life. And those of you who know me know that when I commit to a relationship, professional or personal, I tend to go all in. There’s not any part of my heart that is left fenced off, with a “do not disturb” sign on the gate. I associate this “all in” willingness with not being a lukewarm Christian (as we read in Scripture, lukewarm persons of faith make Jesus want to throw up – “"I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth." (Revelation 3:15-16).

This past summer, I almost lost the feeling of all my tethers. I was like some ridiculous life-sized balloon, adrift in the atmosphere, until I felt the steady tug and tie of two bright stars, grounding my life and calling me home – the love of my son and husband. Of course there were other tethers still there, but in that bleak moment, I confess that I felt like I was coming undone, all the knots were slipping. It is often the relationships we knit together in our lives that can become the echoes of God’s love for us. And sometimes we need those echoes to be as loud as a freight train!

So now, I find myself in another time of transition. I have been appointed to serve as the senior pastor at Krum First United Methodist Church effective January 1. You can read more about this transition from the perspective of the Krum church’s current pastor, Christy Thomas, here. For my part, I am so humbled and honored by the opportunity. I am also simultaneously breathlessly excited, shaking in my boots, and snipping the beautiful tethers that have bound me in ministry at First UMC-Denton. It brings this hymn to mind:

          Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love;

          the fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above.
          Before our Father’s throne we pour our ardent prayers;
          our fears, our hopes, our aims are one, our comforts and our cares.
          We share each other’s woes, our mutual burdens bear;
          and often for each other flows the sympathizing tear.
          When we asunder part, it gives us inward pain;
          but we shall still be joined in heart, and hope to meet again.
                                                                      United Methodist Hymnal #557

I was looking over the order of worship planned for January 5 at the Krum church, so I could have an idea of what lies ahead. Tears pricked my eyes as I read the liturgy through which that body of faithful people will welcome me as their pastor – that I shall baptize new Christians, that I shall preside at the table to feed the family of faith, that I shall lead them in ministry to the community and to the world – these are all things I knew in my head, but I feel blessed beyond compare that they are receiving me for this ministry. I am tying all sorts of new tethers of relationship.

This is the church I chose, our United Methodist Church, and this is what I signed up to do. Our theology is sound and we are still called to spread Scriptural holiness over the land. Despite all the global church’s warts and failings, the movement of pastors, so that each one’s unique gifts and graces might continue to build up of churches (i.e. the people of God) can be an amazing, Spirit-filled thing. And I’m all in!

Because I love you, I may not always agree with you

Well, that’s putting it simply. I may not agree with lots of folks, but if I love you, you’re very likely to know it. I’m thinking about this in light of my own experiences and the political atmosphere of our country at the moment.

A few days ago when I was acutely feeling a lack of local friends, I asked my husband what the difference was between me and another acquaintance of ours, who makes friends easily wherever she goes. Not just run of the mill friends, either – these are feed you dinner, watch your kid, more like family friends. And my husband, who has made vows to be my loving friend for life, said, “You don’t suck up to people.” Pressed to explain further, it turns out that I’m honest with others; I don’t always say what they would like to hear (or keep my mouth shut to leave it a lie by omission).

So I’ve been mulling this over. A couple of weeks ago, I was teaching one of our older adult Sunday school classes at their invitation. The lesson was on Stephen, the first Christian martyr, one of the men chosen to help distribute food to widows when the apostles were getting too busy to make sure this was happening fairly (Acts 6-7). The account the author gives us of Stephen echoes that of Jesus in some powerful ways – a person doing good, witnessing to the good news of God, brought up on false charges and put to death.

The emphasis of the lesson was on being a witness. Now these folks are such excellent evangelists exhibiting such marvelous hospitality, that their problem is that their room is too full. So what could I say about being a witness? So I asked this question: Are there ever times when our positions on issues, the way we are witnesses for the smaller things, clouds the way we may be a witness for God?

And then I did it. I crossed the boundary. I named the elephant (and donkey) in the room and wondered aloud how our words and attitudes during a political season might undermine our witness to the good news. Are there things more important (namely, the reign of God) that should trump and inform how we are who we are in the world?

Afterwards, many of the class members thanked me, probably as much for my presence as for my lesson. I found myself saying that I wasn’t afraid to talk about hard issues with them because they know I love them and I know they love me.

So I guess that’s where I find myself today. When I love someone, when I really love them, I’m going to share all of myself with them. All of my thoughts, all of my feelings, all of it! Those who know me know that I have an independent streak a mile wide and another mile deep, but that’s, hopefully, balanced by my fierce loyalty. When I love someone, I love them for who they are and who they might become. I will defend them and pray for them. I will bring casseroles or watch your child or visit you in the hospital. Because I love you.

And because I love you, I may not always agree with you.

I’m working this out because I can point to an example right now of a wonderful couple that we know. And I love them. I’ve known them for years, but I know that they are never going to be the friends that I long for. Because I can’t keep my mouth shut, and even if I do, what I’m thinking is probably all over my face. And if I have to keep my mouth shut, for fear of offending or challenging, that’s probably not the friendship I really need.

So, in a season when tension and fear and anxiety are high while the outlets of social media feel anonymous, making it safe to be tacky and rude, let's try to be loving instead. Love your neighbor as you love yourself  (Leviticus 19:18, Matthew 19:19 and 22:39, Mark 12:31, Luke 10:27, Romans 13:9, Galatians 5:4, James 2:8). And as often as you may disagree with them, let them know/see/feel that you love them first.

Christmas Lists & Dreams Deferred

I’ve been thinking about transition, dreams, and contentment a bit lately. It’s that time of year when my family asks me for a Christmas list because, for many of us, our love language is giving gifts. Or, at least, it’s one of our love languages, a way of saying, I value you, I treasure you, I want you to be happy.

So, my cousin contacted us to let us know that our lists were insufficient. Probably because my grandpa starts Christmas shopping in July. So last night, just before we turned in, my husband remarked, “I don’t know what else to ask for that’s not really expensive.” I thought for a moment, then named 5-6 things I could imagine he could want or need. We laughed at how well I knew him and how good I am at thinking of gifts. Then I asked him to try to do the same for me, since I don’t have any idea of what to add to my list either. He was stumped. I think his exact words were, “If I knew what you wanted, I would know what to get you every year.”

As I lay down, I pondered his words. Why is it that I don’t want things? Why is it that I can’t come up with a good list of things that can be ordered and wrapped and given? Honestly, I think it’s because I’m content with my life for the most part. I have everything I need and then some. Sure, we have recurring needs – diapers, wipes, food, gas, etc. – but not the kinds of things that most folks think make good gifts.

But I refuse this year to ask for wasteful things. In the past, I’ve filled up lists with books that look good that I’ve never read, movies I like but never sit down to watch, or music that sits dormant on an ancient iPod. There’s something within me that has known this was not right, but this year, is adamant in saying, “No!”

Perhaps it’s because I’m in a different place this year. I’ve now been a mom for over a year and my perspective has been radically, irrevocably changed. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been in transition for that year and am just now finding my footing again. The transition of my body that occurred during the birth of my son – that agonizing, amazing time – was only the beginning of this transition of my life.

Recently on Facebook, I’ve been reminded of the fragility of our lives and how many things can cause these transitions. A friend posted the other day that it was 2 months ago that his daughter was born, who has since died. Then today, a friend who had announced that they were expecting shared the hard news that they had miscarried. It all made me think of this poem:

“Harlem” by Langston Hughes

  What happens to a dream deferred?
      Does it dry up
      like a raisin in the sun?
      Or fester like a sore –
      And then run?
      Does it stink like rotten meat?
      Or crust and sugar over –
      like a syrupy sweet?

     Maybe it just sags
     like a heavy load.

     Or does it explode?

Sometimes transition comes on the heels of a dream deferred. And lately, in my experience, that has looked like the lives of children being tragically short. I look at my son, who laughs and plays and tries to run, feeling the precarious nature of things. Last week in youth, we talked about joy and I taught that joy is an abiding gift of God that is deeper than happiness. I wonder in those moments of watching my child, if I could still feel joy if something happened. I trust, by faith, that joy would still be waiting, like a deep pool of peaceful waters, beneath the tumult of trouble or despair.

But when you’re in transition – when all you can do is breathe and cry and curse and try to run from the inescapable pain that will not be denied because it is a part of you – it can be hard to know anything else. I pray for all of us that we will not dry up or fester or rot or become sickeningly sweet or sag or explode. I don’t believe that is the will of God. I believe the tragic times of transition in our lives are a byproduct of the broken, sinful world we live in. But I also believe that God is with us in the transition, no matter how painful, waiting expectantly to bring new life into being.