good reads.

Perfectly Imperfect: Small Town Life – Crumbling Places

“Sometimes, though…

I remember.  That while I am broken, used, less, angry, worn, snappy, selfish, and ungrateful…He is in the business of healing the broken.  Maybe all God needs is for me to rest, revel even, in the brokenness.

Maybe all He needs, friends, is for us to stop holding the crumbling bits together and let them fall to the ground unhindered and bound, so he can plant them firmly with Mercy and Grace.  Maybe He will work ever so diligently to make sure we don’t wind up there anytime soon, and when we do, we are not alone.”

Conversion Diary: The Mental Neat Freak

“And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I’m a mental neat freak. You know those people who get all stressed out if their houses are messy? That’s me, but in my head (which I guess makes sense, since that’s where I live most of the time). I can stumble along for a while without mental clean-up time, but, like a neat freak living in a house that keeps getting messier and messier and messier, if it goes on too long, I snap.”

LA Times: How Not To Say The Wrong Thing

“If you want to scream or cry or complain, if you want to tell someone how shocked you are or how icky you feel, or whine about how it reminds you of all the terrible things that have happened to you lately, that's fine. It's a perfectly normal response. Just do it to someone in a bigger ring.

Comfort IN, dump OUT.”

Huffington Post: It Ain’t Over: The Business 9 Women Kept A Secret For Three Decades

“Somewhere in West Tennessee, not far from Graceland, nine women – or ‘The 9 Nanas,’ as they prefer to be called -- gather in the darkness of night. At 4am they begin their daily routine -- a ritual that no one, not even their husbands, knew about for 30 years. They have one mission and one mission only: to create happiness. And it all begins with baked goods.”

This High Calling: Dear Foster Mama

“You are different than when you began this pilgrimage, when you set off amongst the strange looks and concerning questions. You’re more tender, deeper…more sober.

And you know you are waltzing through one of the most unnatural dances possible. You trip, stumble and often feel there is no one to lead you, spin you...to search your eyes and see the caverns that now trace deep within your heart and cause the most sporadic tears to surface.

But He is leading you.”

an update.

I haven't found much time to post here lately. Inspiration comes in fits and starts, and the words that used to come more easily, I have to work for. God has been teaching me so much that in some ways I feel less sure of things. I don’t mean that I doubt Truth or Jesus or His Word – it’s more that sometimes it feels like a new revelation is just around the corner. Most thoughts and ideas don’t seem to stick around in the front of my mind to become a real blog post, at least not like they used to.

Plus, I wonder if maybe there are seasons to consider and ponder and yes, write about life, and other seasons to just be busy living it. Some people can do both quite well, but I’m not sure I’m one of them.

So, here are some of the latest parts of living going on in my world.

M and her daughters are still living with me, though they are actively looking for a place of their own. This is an important step for them, for M to be on her own and providing for her family. We’re thinking they’ll be here until the end of May, maybe mid-June at the latest.

K is still living with me, too (A moved out several weeks ago). It’s good, and also hard. I second guess myself all the time and the relationships are difficult to navigate. But I think most really good things are hard, too, and that’s part of what makes them good.

My sister Kelli and I made a bet. We both have to work out 30 minutes a week, four times a week, for eight weeks. If we fail, we pay the other $100. And we go jeans shopping at the end to celebrate. I joined a gym and worked out with a personal trainer for a few weeks (and now on my own). It’s both kicking my butt and also helping a lot with getting my knee back to full functionality. I had my last post-op today, barring any more problems, and got a great result. I joined Weight Watchers, and all of this together is (slowly) working (though I still hate measuring food). And another bonus to all of this – the only time I really have to work out is in the morning before work, which means that I am on a more normal bedtime schedule than I think I’ve ever been.

There’s another court hearing coming up in my CASA case, which will keep me busy for the next few weeks. The longer I do this, the more committed I am to this organization. This work matters. It makes a difference, it really does. I wish more people would get involved in this way.

And the biggest news – I’m in the process of training to be a foster parent. There’s a whole training/application/home study process that takes months to complete, but I’m working my way through, a step at a time.

My brother-in-law told me once that I’m more comfortable being uncomfortable than other people. He’s probably right, but it’s only because stepping out in faith is the best way I know to fully experience God. My friend Kim and I talked about this just the other day, that you can be scared and excited all at the same time. It’s a fun place to be.

So it feels like life is always changing around here, but I think I like it that way.

things I’ve learned about ministry, part 3.

Here are a few more things I’ve learned about ministry over the last eight months.

You can’t do it alone. There is absolutely no way I would have made it through the last few months with a support network. My family and friends have helped out with practical stuff, like transporting A & K and providing meals when I was laid up after knee surgery. But more importantly, they’ve been a sounding board, given me a reality check, let me cry on their shoulder, and prayed with me. I really think I would have lost my mind and probably thrown in the towel without their help.

It can’t be about the person you’re trying to help – it has to be about Jesus. This is really the bottom line for me, and I think it applies no matter what you’re doing. Because people will misunderstand your heart and your motives. They’ll fail to say thank-you and they will take you for granted. They’ll take a step back with every step forward. They’ll push your boundaries and break your heart and wear you out.

But Jesus. He sees your heart and honors your faithfulness, even when things don’t work out like you want them to. He gives rest and carries your burdens. He promises that His Word does not return empty but accomplishes the work He gave it to do (Isaiah 55:11). And the work He has started in you, the work He is even now doing in you as you serve others, He will complete it (Philippians 1:6).

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:

I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’

“Then those ‘sheep’ are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.’”

Matthew 25:34-40

things I’ve learned about ministry, part 2.

Here are a few more things I’ve learned about ministry over the last eight months.

It’s exhausting. Back before anyone ever moved in with me, a friend told me that people who weren’t used to living with boundaries continually try to push yours. I believed her, but I don’t know that I really understood what that would mean. I definitely didn’t realize how tiring it would be. This isn’t true for everyone, and I’m not even sure that it’s always intentional, but there are many days I feel like I’m constantly on guard, knowing that I give an inch, they’ll take a mile. And this is true for both the boundaries I set for their benefit (like curfews or due dates for rent) and for mine (like personal time or other friends or family who need me). I’ve learned that I need to be very clear about my boundaries and expectations, at least in my own head, and ready to set new ones when situations arise that I haven’t considered. I’ve gotten better at saying no and not feeling guilty about it.

It won’t always work. Or at least, it won’t always seem to. The hardest part of all of this has been when it feels like all of the time and effort and money and tears don’t actually change anything. Some people are stuck in old patterns and just aren’t ready to break out of them. So, here’s is what I’m try to remember. One, the story isn’t over yet. Lucky for me, I’ve got friends that have been doing this for a while who remind me of this, because they’ve seen things change long after we think it’s over. And two, that I’m not responsible for the results. My role is just to obey, to do what God tells me to, and to leave the results up to Him. It’s not easy, but if I didn’t trust that He is really in control, this whole thing would feel pretty pointless.

things I’ve learned about ministry, part 1.

It’s been eight months since I first invited people to move in to my house, and nearly four months since I became an unofficial temporary foster parent. In that time, ministry has been more hands-on and all-encompassing than I could have even predicted. I’ve learned quite a lot – here are a few things.

And please know that I realize that a lot of these are true just by virtue of sharing your home with someone else, particularly people that are your responsibility, like children. But as someone who doesn’t have children and who, with the exception of half of 2011, has spent most of her adult life living on her own, these are the things that I understand now that I didn’t before. (Also, I could make the argument that our most important ministry is to those in our home, no matter how they came to be there. So there’s that).

It’s messy. I didn’t realize it until recently, but a lot of the ministry I’ve done in the past has had some pretty clear boundaries. There was a time that I was doing it, and a time that I was not, and I had a lot of control over when and where they intersected. Even phone calls or emails, I could ignore until it was time to deal with them. But having people live with you means that ministry doesn’t fit any longer into nice little boxes. It spills over into every part of your life, and as much as my organizing, list-making self wants it to be clean and straightforward, it’s just not. People are messy, and so are their problems, and sin is really, really messy.

It’s heartbreaking. I have cried more in the last few months than I think ever have before in my life. One Sunday a few weeks ago, I was so overcome at church that I actually sobbed my way through the worship portion of the service, much to the confusion of the poor kid who was sitting beside me. Sometimes these tears are on behalf of others – how someone continues to make poor choices, despite every opportunity to go another way, or how their decisions affect someone else. But sometimes (oftentimes), I’m hurt or tired or just overwhelmed. Or I feel unseen and underappreciated. I know this is a lie, that God sees, but it’s still been painful work.

the story isn’t over yet.

For the last several weeks, our church has been going through the Story [link] – basically traveling through the Bible in a year, learning about God’s story and our place in it. Each week, the Sunday morning sermon, the various children’s ministries, and the small groups study the same passage.

A few weeks ago, we studied the Israelites’ escape from Egypt to the Red Sea. If you don’t know the story, here’s a synopsis: the Israelites are slaves and Pharaoh finally agrees to let them go after a series of plagues strike Egypt. Soon after, he changes his mind and sends his army after them. Israel has traveled as far as the Red Sea and is now trapped between it and Pharaoh’s approaching army. They panic, crying out again Moses their leader and wondering why they didn’t just stay in Egypt rather than face this certain death.

Of course, if you know the rest of the story, it doesn’t end there. God miraculously parts the Red Sea so that the Israelites can walk through on dry ground. Then, after they’ve made it through, God brings the waters back together and Pharaoh’s army drowns. And this isn’t the last time that same scenario plays itself out – the Israelites come across an obstacle in their journey, they complain and say it would have been better to have been slaves, and God miraculously provides for them.

It’s easy to look at the Israelites and judge them for their initial response when faced with these obstacles, but here is the thought that I can’t get out of my head –the story wasn’t over yet. All they saw was an ending, an insurmountable obstacle, but God was just getting started! If they just held out a little while longer, they would see His provision – miraculously.

There are a ton of applications to this, but for me, in this season, it is such a comforting thought when ministry doesn’t go the way I want it to (and it rarely does) – God is not done writing the story.

the innkeeper.

I heard this at church yesterday morning, from Frederick Buechner’s The Magnificent Defeat. I’m working on a post about some of the things that I’m not doing this Christmas season, in an attempt to slow down the crazy. In the meantime, read this – because I think missing the miracle for the trees is certainly not a new problem.

"I speak to you as men of the world," said the Innkeeper. "Not as idealists but as realists. Do you know what it is like to run an inn-to run a business, a family, to run anything in this world for that matter, even your own life? It is being lost in a forest of a million trees," said the Innkeeper, and each tree is a thing to be done. Is there fresh linen on all the beds? Did the children put on their coats before they went out? Has the letter been written, the book read? Is there money enough left in the bank? Today we have food in our bellies and clothes on our backs, but what can we do to make sure that we will have them still tomorrow? A million trees. A million things.

"Until finally we have eyes for nothing else, and what-ever we see turns into a thing. The sparrow lying in the dust at your feet-just a thing to be kicked out of the way, not the mystery of death. The calling of children outside your window-just a distraction, an irrelevance, not life, not the wildest miracle of them all. That whispering in the air that comes sudden and soft from nowhere-only the wind, the wind…

"Later that night, when the baby came, I was not there," the Innkeeper said. "I was lost in the forest somewhere, the unenchanted forest of a million trees. Fifteen steps to the cellar, and watch out for your head going down. Firewood to the left. If the fire goes out, the heart freezes. Only the wind, the wind. I speak to you as men of the world. So when the baby came, I was not around, and I saw none of it. As for what I heard -- just at that moment itself of birth when nobody turns into somebody-I do not rightly know what I heard.

"But this I do know. My own true love. All your life long, you wait for your own true love to come-we all of us do-our destiny, our joy, our heart's desire. So how am I to say it, gentlemen? When he came, I missed him.

on being radical.

I have this desire to be radical. It's one of those things that's engraved deep within me, a yearning that has been a part of me for a long time. I'm not sure where it comes from exactly - maybe a desire to stand out, a need to matter. I'd like to couch it in spiritual terms, to make you think that I love Jesus so much that I want to do something big for him. But if I'm being honest, I think there are some selfish motivations driving that. Because if not, would I really want to be radical, or just obedient?

It's been about a year and half now since I started doing stuff that I would have considered radical a few years ago. And you know what? It doesn't feel radical. It just kind of feels like this is the way I should have been living all along. And hopefully, as God keeps teaching me, the stuff that seems radical now will just seem normal in a few years. I have no idea what that will look like. But in case you're in that place of wanting to be radical but not really sure how to start, here are a couple things I've learned.

First, it starts with the small things. If we're not willing to be faithful in the little things of every day life, what makes us think we'll say yes when God asks for something more? If I won't be generous with my free time when I have so much of it, am I really going to be willing to sacrifice it later when it seems there is much less to spare? And if I don't trust him with all that he has given me so far, why would I trust him with more?

Second, in the end, it's really about the small things. Even the big decisions are really lived out in the day to day. For me, it's cooking more often than I ever have before, because one meal doesn't lead to as many leftovers as it used to. Sometimes it's stopping what I'm doing, or skipping what I want to do, to give someone a ride or pick someone up. It's the choice to be patient when I really want to be left alone, or the decision to stay engaged when I want to find a place to hide out for a while. It's doing the dishes again. Like with so many other things, the real impact is not in the one big decision, but the daily little ones.

the latest.

After wrestling for a couple weeks on what to say and how to say it, I think I’ve finally figured it out.

A few months ago, T and her 14-year-old daughter K moved in with me, because they needed a place to stay for a few months. For reasons I won’t go into, T is going to be unavailable for a while, so K will be living with me, along with her 17-year-old sister A. In addition to this, M and her young daughters A and B are living here, which makes for a wonderfully full house.

(Full of females, including the dogs, which gives some male members of my family a little bit of anxiety at the idea of coming over).

So this is where I find myself these days – making doctor and dentist appointments, planning meals on a regular basis for more than just myself, checking school grades and helping with homework, and learning what parents mean when they say they feel like they’re running a taxi service. And although I am not the girls’ mother, I’m still getting a crash course in parenting. I am certain that I am exactly where God wants me, even as I’m getting used to this new schedule and the myriad new responsibilities that come with it.

I started reading The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson today, and these words jumped out at me:

“I felt underqualified and overwhelmed, but that is when God has you right where He wants you. That is how you learn to live in raw dependence – and raw dependence is the raw material out of which God performs His greatest miracles.”

This is where I am – sure that I can’t do this job, but confident that He can. And anticipating that God will do miraculous things.

love does.

I’ve never met Bob Goff, but after following him on Twitter, reading his book Love Does, and watching some of the videos he posts on his blog, I think he’s probably one of those guys who is a lot of fun to be around – someone who just lives life all in, who isn’t afraid to be a little ridiculous and encourages you to do whatever you’re passionate about.

If you’ve ever read anything by Donald Miller, the style of this book is somewhat similar. It reads a little bit like a memoir, with a series of stories from Bob’s life and the lessons he learned while living those stories. I highlighted lots of little nuggets as I got started, things that I thought were an interesting and insightful way of looking at something. It wasn’t until I got to the end, though, that I really understand that the whole book is about doing something, about being active not passive, about really being full engaged in life wherever that is. I finished it inspired. I think you will, too.

Here are a few of the parts I highlighted:

“The world can make you think that love can be picked up a garage sale or enveloped in a Hallmark card. But the kind of love that God created and demonstrated is a costly one because it involves sacrifice and presence. It’s a love that operates more like a sign language than being spoken outright. What I learned from Randy about the brand of love Jesus offers is that it’s more about presence than undertaking a project. It’s a brand of love that doesn’t just think about good things, or agree with them, or talk about them. What I learned from Randy reinforced the simple truth that continues to weave itself into the tapestry of every great story: Love does.”

“I want to leak from having been hit by Jesus. From having something crazy happen to me, something that flipped my life upside down. I’ve met people like that, people who leak Jesus. Whenever you’re around them, Jesus keeps coming up with words and with actions. I don’t suppose everybody gets hit by Jesus, but those of us who have talk about Him differently. We start steering funny, we start leaking where we stand. And it’s because we got thrown from our lives in a terrific collision.”

“We’re God’s plan, and we always have been. We aren’t just supposed to be observers, listeners, or have a bunch of opinions. We’re not here to let everyone know what we agree and don’t agree with, because, frankly, who cares? Tell me about the God you love; tell me about what you’re going to do about it, and a plan for your life will be pretty easy to figure out from there. I guess what I’m saying is that most of us don’t get an audible plan for our lives. It’s way better than that. We get to be God’s plan for the whole world by pointing people toward Him.”

compassion, justice, and the christian life.

This is book 3 of the 5 non-fiction books I wanted to read this year. I think this year I just might actually complete this goal.

I actually read Compassion, Justice and the Christian Life by Robert Lupton because a friend loaned it to me. You know how when someone loans you a book you feel like you have to read it, because they’re going to ask you how you liked it? I was surprised, though, because once I got started with this, I really enjoyed it. I thought about the way I help the poor, right and wrong, about what kind of things lead to long-term change and what hinder it. I also had to face some real truths about the way I interact with those I’m helping:

“There is blessedness in this kind of giving, to be sure. But there is also power in it – which can be dangerous. Giving allows me to retain control. Retaining the helping position protects me from the humiliation of appearing to need help. And even more sobering, I condemn those who I would help to the permanent, prideless role of recipient. When my motivation is to change people, I inadvertently communicate: Something is wrong with you, but (quite subtly) I am okay. If our relationship is defined as healer/patient, then I must remain well and they must remain sick in order for our interaction to continue.”

Over the last few years, and the last few months especially, I’ve become more and more convinced that social justice is absolutely essential to sharing the gospel. How can we tell someone that we care about their soul, but ignore the fact that they don’t have enough food or a roof over their heads? Evangelism and acts of compassion and fighting for justice are not separate things. Jesus came to mend and redeem our relationship with God, but he also healed the sick, wept with the hurting, and befriended the lonely – not a sidebar to his ministry, but it is by these things that people see God.

“The problem, of course, is that it leads toward viewing others as souls instead of people. And when we opt for rescuing souls over loving neighbors, compassionate acts can soon degenerate into evangelism techniques; pressing human needs depreciate in importance, and the spirit becomes the only thing worth caring about. Thus, the powerful leaven of unconditional, sacrificial love is diminished in society and the wounded are left lying beside the road. When we skip over the Great Commandment on the way to fulfilling the Great Commission, we do great harm to the authenticity of the faith.”

This book was an extremely quick read for me, and if you’re at all interested in learning how to really care for the poor, I can’t recommend it highly enough.

it’s all broken.

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to a new foster mom. She told me that she knew the kids placed in her care would come from tough places, that it might be tough to work with them and with their biological parents. She expected that, but what she didn’t expect is that it would sometimes be tough to work with others, like the social workers.

I expected something similar, I think, when I started volunteering as a CASA. Even though I had heard the stories, even though I thought I understood the reality, I was still a little surprised. I shouldn’t have been. There are lots of wonderful social workers, yes, but there are also plenty who are burned out or just incompetent. Even the good ones can be easily overworked and overwhelmed by a system that has to care for far too many children.

Like the foster mom I spoke to, this is often the most frustrating part of it for me. But after doing this for a little while now, there is one conclusion I’ve come to, that kind of helps it all make sense: it’s all broken.

It’s not just the kids that are broken, or their drug-addicted parents. It’s not even just the foster care system. It’s all of it, and all of us, because we were born into a broken world.

Sometimes my sense of justice, even my understanding of logic, wants to scream out, “This is not the way it’s supposed to be!” And this is true. But it isn’t because in a perfect world, a social worker would always return phone calls and never make ill-advised decisions. It’s because in a perfect world, there would be no need for social workers, for CASAs, or for foster parents. In a perfect world, parents would love and be able to meet the needs of their children. They wouldn’t be fighting substance abuse and poverty and their own neglected upbringing.

I absolutely believe in God’s redemption. I know, and have seen, how He truly gives beauty for ashes and gladness for mourning. But somehow, it also helped when I realized that very little in this work makes sense because it was plan B to start with.

7.

I'm kind of on a roll with the book thing. Normally, I really need some kind of external motivation to finish a non-fiction book (like a small group), but I've been reading a lot lately. It helps that I really like Jen Hatmaker's writing style - its sometimes serious, sometimes silly, sometimes irreverent, and sometimes just really in-process, which is something I can really appreciate in another person. It also helps that since T and K moved in, I've been going to bed at a more normal hour.

And let's be honest - it also helps that it's the summer and there isn't a ton of good stuff to watch on Hulu at the moment.

[Source: www.jenhatmaker.com]

Anyway, I actually downloaded 7 before Interrupted (my review is here) but thought it would be better to read them in the order they were written. And once I finished the first one, I flew through the second. 7 is the story of an experiment to make 7 simple changes in 7 different areas of excess (including things like media, possessions, and shopping) for one month each and record the results. It's written almost like a blog, with entries labeled by day. It was funny and challenging at the same time. It was also not a little bit convicting, given my frustration with significantly reducing spending last month, though some of the words in the conclusion brought me a lot of peace (see the final quote below).

I highlighted far too many things to list them all, so here's a sample:

"As I reduce, He is enough. As I simplify, He is enough. He is my portion where food and clothes and comfort fall woefully short. He can heal me from greed and excess, materialism and pride, selfishness and envy. While my earthly treasures and creature comforts will fail me, Jesus is more than enough. In my privileged world where 'need' and 'want' have become indistinguishable, my only true requirement is the sweet presence of Jesus."

"I won't defile my blessings by imagining that I deserve them. Until every human receives the dignity I casually enjoy, I pray my heart aches with tension and my belly rumbles for injustice."

"When the jars of clay remember they are jars of clay, the treasure within gets all the glory, which seems somehow more fitting."

"What if we are actually called to a radical life? What if Jesus knew our Christian culture would design a lovely life template complete with all the privileges and exemptions we want, but even with that widespread approval, He still expected radical simplicity, radical generosity, radical obedience from those with ears to hear, eyes to see?"

"The church the Bible described is exciting and adventurous and wrought with sacrifice. It cost the believers everything, and they still came. It was good news to the poor and stumped its enemies. The church was patterned after a Savior who had no place to lay his head and voluntarily died a brutal death, even knowing we would reduce the gospel to a self-serving personal improvement program where people were encouraged to make a truce with their Maker and stop sinning and join the church, when in fact the gospel does not call for a truce but a complete surrender."

"Self-deprecation is a cruel response to Jesus, who died and made us righteous. Guilt is not Jesus' medium. He is battling for global redemption right now; His objective hardly includes huddling in the corner with us, rehashing our shame again. He finished that discussion on the cross. Plus, there's no time for that. We're so conditioned to being a problem that we've forgotten we're actually the answer. God is not angry at you; how could He possibly be? You are His daughter, His son; you're on the team."

at the risk of looking ridiculous.

A few times now, my sisters and I have taken a kickboxing class at the local rec center.

There is one thing you need to know about me and kickboxing. When it comes to anything involving any sort of rhythm, I'm pretty uncoordinated. So are my sisters, something they'll willingly admit, as well. This means that we carefully avoid looking at each other so we don't get off track (and that we get off track anyway). It also means that I am often counting out the steps under my breath (left-right-kick-hold, left-right-kick-hold).

But finally, after the third class, sometimes I'm comfortable enough with the pattern that my mind wanders a bit. This is what happened last week, when I heard a song that took me back 20 (!) years to high school. I thought about how afraid I was then (and later) to look the least bit silly. I thought about how I avoided doing anything I wasn't sure I could do well, how I so rarely took a risk. I thought about how I would never have done anything like this (kickboxing) in front of other people. I wonder about how much that girl missed out on - how many experiences, how many relationships, how many opportunities to see God move.

Sometimes I wish I could go back and have a chat with that Kristy. I wish I could tell her that you only need to really be worried about the opinions of the people that matter to you, and sometimes not even then. That learning to laugh at yourself is an important life skill. And that stepping off a cliff, while scary, can also be exhilarating, because that's when you see God move in extraordinary ways.

interrupted.

I'm so bad at finishing non-fiction books - I really am. I have great intentions, but I usually get bogged down at some point in the process. But, I finally finished the first on my list for the year, and let me tell you, it really messed with me. It challenged me and is still making me think. I've been telling everyone I know to read it, partly because I want someone else to discuss it with me, and partly because it is just that good.

[Source: www.jenhatmaker.com]

Interrupted by Jen Hatmaker is the story of  a radical shift in the way we view life with Christ. It's about learning to do life the way that Jesus did, in relationship, seeking out the least of these. It's radical, but at the same time, it's really not.

Here are just a few of the items I highlighted:

"Why is it so exhausting to uphold someone's heavy, inconvenient burden? Why are we spent from shouldering someone's grief or being an armor bearer? Why is it that lifting someone out of his or her rubble leaves us breathless? Because we are the body of Christ, broken and poured out, just as He was. Mercy has a cost: Someone must be broken for someone else to be fed."

"We don't get to opt out of living on mission because we might not be appreciated. We're not allowed to neglect the oppressed because we have reservations about their discernment. We cannot deny love because it might be despised or misunderstood. We can't without social relief because we're not convinced it will be perfectly managed. Must we be wise? Absolutely. But doing nothing is a blatant sin of omission. Turning a blind eye to the bottom on the grounds of "unworthiness" is the antithesis to Jesus' entire mission."

"Of course we loved the poor, Jesus. You told us to. Of course we opened our homes and invited the lonely in. That was clear in the Word. Of course we clothed naked children and fed starving people. They are human beings made in your image. We took care of the least in obedience to You, Jesus, but we never had the privilege of actually serving You. We did all that for you. But Jesus will say, No, you did that unto Me."

"In Breaking the Missional Code, Ed Stetzer and David Putman wrote, 'The church is one of the few organizations in the world that does not exist for the benefit of its members. The church exists because God, in his infinite wisdom and infinite mercy, chose the church as his instrument to make known his manifold wisdom in the world.'"

"If we've been in church for years yet aren't full, are we really hungry for more knowledge? In our busy lives, do we really need another program or event? Do we really need to be fed more of the Word, or are we simply undernourished from an absence of living the Word?" (from Brandon Hatmaker)

easter.

Over the last few days, I've read some wonderful things on Easter, the resurrection, and the incredible grace God gave us on the cross. These words have convicted me, made me think, and given me reason to celebrate. I hope the excerpts below (and the full posts linked below them) do the same for you.

Between ages 0-32, I celebrated Easter the fun way: with bunnies, baskets, and expensive clothes. What better way to say “Jesus reigns” than dressing my preschooler in a $45 dress to show her off in the church lobby? (You’re welcome, Jesus. Be blessed.)


Now, let’s be clear, if you had asked me what my Easter priorities were as I stood all fancy in the lobby, I’d become grave and mention the resurrection. For crying out loud, I’m a Christian. But truthfully, between the outfit shopping, the Easter baskets, the egg ______ (dying, stuffing, hiding, hunting), the pictures, the lunch menu, and the gift buying, Jesus was flat last. I started thinking about him as the band started at church, and I thought about him for a whole hour.


That’s just true.


But for the last three years, Jesus has messed with me. Frankly, he’s hijacked all my holiday endeavors. I’ve always celebrated holidays with a Cultural Major and a Spiritual Minor. Take Christmas, for example. I endlessly spent on garbage no one needed and worked myself into a December frenzy and oh well. La de da. Now I’m overwhelmed by the poor and the disgusting consumerism cycle and the heinous neglect of Jesus and the appalling nature of it all.

~ Jen Hatmaker, The Easter Conundrum, Part 1

But it is yet another thing all together to look at the truth of scripture and remember this: When he died, I died. And so instead of watching from thousands of years later or even standing among the dirty crowd who killed him, Jesus brings me closer. He put me on the cross with him – my old self, my sin, my terrible reflection. But while there together, He hid me within him and absorbed the punishment on my behalf. And thus set me free.

~ Emily Freeman, Chatting at the Sky, the other thing that happened on Good Friday

And we tell the story over and over. It’s not just a pastel, chocolate-covered story we drag out with the eggs. It’s the very core of who we are. It’s the most important story ever told. It’s the truth we cling to in the darkest of nights. It’s the story we encourage one another with. Death didn’t win. He is alive!

~ Kristen Welch, We Are That Family, Five Ways to Celebrate Easter

all of me.

Baby Bowen is the son of Matt Hammitt, lead singer of Sanctus Real. He was born in 2010 with a congenital heart defect (you can see more here). Matt wrote the song below out of that experience, and as I listened to the words last night, I was struck by how applicable this is to loving any child struggling through hard circumstances - sickness, yes, but also those who come from situations of abuse and neglect.

I can't give you half my heart, and pray He makes you whole

You're gonna have all of me, you're gonna have all of me

Cause you're worth every falling tear, you're worth facing any fear

You're gonna know all my love, even if it's not enough

Enough to mend our broken hearts, but giving you all of me is where I'll start

made for more.

I keep going back to this song:

You're beautiful, you're beautiful

You were made for so much more than all of this

You're beautiful, you're beautiful

You are treasured, you are sacred, you are his

And this is the question - made for more than what?

For more than a life trapped in poverty?
For more than a life trapped in sin? In judgement and guilt and insecurity?
For more than my own ignorance?

Maybe that's what I need to be rescued from more than anything else:

From the selfishness and ingratitude that has me taking too many things for granted.
From the pride that has me thinking I've got this figured out
From the arrogance that makes me judge too many others for not doing their part
From the fear, that would keep me closing my eyes so I don't have to face truth. Because once you know, you have to do something.

fighting injustice.

Since I read this on Twitter a couple of weeks ago, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it:

"We get to put more than just a toe in the water fighting injustice; God dares us to grab our knees and do a cannonball."

~ Bob Goff

What does this look like, in real life? What does it mean to jump all in to the fight, to make that kind of splash?

for me.

Most Africans I've met love to sing and dance, and the kids at Hope House are no exception. Every day when I arrive, after greeting me, someone inevitably asks if I've brought my MP3 player (la musique, they say, while pointing to their ears to indicate the headphones). They pass it around and sometimes share it, with each one using one ear piece.

Thursday, during what was a more emotional day for me, I was listening to the music with one ear while Naomi (age 8) used the other ear piece. This song came on:

You're beautiful
You're beautiful
You are made for so much more than all of this
You're beautiful
You're beautiful
You are treasured, you are sacred, you are his
You're beautiful

I looked at her and wondered, does she know this is true? That she is beautiful and treasured in his sight? I even thought this would be a wonderful song to use in a video, with photos of the kids that I have come to love.

Then God tapped me on the shoulder. This isn't just a message for her, he said, it's a message for you. You are beautiful. You're my daughter and I love you. I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, and you are mine.

Sometimes I get so caught up in the ministry that I neglect the relationship. I'm so grateful that he is faithful to remind me.