The religion of Jesus

We talked this morning in small group about how we as a church,  both our individual church, and the corporate church at large, welcome people. The things we do well and the things we could do better. 

The question was asked, have we become more about the religion about Jesus rather than the religion of Jesus. It’s a question that made us all uncomfortable but also one that most if not all of us answered yes to. I think that’s often true for we as individuals, we as the corporate church, and we as the world in general.

I think often we worry more about trying to be good Christians rather than trying to be like Jesus. It’s certainly a lot easier to try to be a good Christian than it is to be like Jesus. 

Being a good Christian means going to church and serving donuts and teaching Sunday school and giving money. It’s about following the rules. These aren’t bad things at all. They are needed and they are honored. But there’s so much more. 

Being like Jesus requires us to step outside our comfort zone. It requires us to talk to people we may not be comfortable talking to. It requires us to go places we may not be comfortable going. It requires us to think about concepts we’ve maybe never thought of. It requires us to give of ourselves in ways that stretch who we are. Sometimes it requires us to break the rules. 

Sometimes it even causes us to say things that make ourselves and others uncomfortable. It requires risk. 

But risk for the sake of being like Jesus is always met with faithfulness. 

Risk for the sake of being Jesus’ hands and feet in this world is always met with blessing. 

Risk to be a troublemaker, to break the rules, to rebel, to see things differently, all for the sake of being like Jesus? That’s the kind of crazy I want to be. Because I would much rather have people wonder in this life if I’ve lost my mind rather than have God in the next life ask me why I didn’t 

Sometimes you need someone else to give you the courage to be brave

I had no intention of writing or publishing the blog post that I published last week about my history of slaying dragons. 

I ended up writing it because I couldn’t go to sleep until I did so but I was afraid to actually share it. After I wrote it and read it, I knew that it had the potential to be impactful, but I also knew how vulnerable it made me. 

And so I contacted my trusted guide through this journey of healing who knows my struggles and the work I’ve done and the progress I’ve made. I told her that I had written this post and that I was afraid to hit publish but I felt like I should. She told me that sometimes I would blog for myself and sometimes I would blog for others. And then she asked if I wanted to send the blog post to her for her to look at. 

So I did. After she read it, she contacted me and she told me that if/when I was ready, I needed to publish the blog.

I had known that in my gut. But my heart was scared.

Her encouragement gave me the strength I needed to hit the publish button. To speak the truth of my trauma and my struggles. And there was great healing in that. But it’s not something I would’ve been able to do without having someone I trusted to give me the courage to be brave. 

Sometimes you need someone else to give you the courage to be brave.

The news the past few days has revolved largely around sexual abuse allegations. This post is about the question that I keep hearing asked by people, some that I know, and some that I don’t, of why would a woman wait until years after an incident to say something? Why would they have not said something when it happened?

Sometimes you need someone else to give you the courage to be brave.

One in five women and one in 71 men will be raped at some point in their lives. More than 40% of women and 20% of men report sexual violence other than rape during their lifetimes. In eight out of ten cases of rape and, the victim knew the person who sexually assaulted them. Rape is the most under-reported crime; 63% of sexual assaults are not reported to police and only 12% of child sexual abuse is reported to the authorities. 

One in 5 women and one in 16 men are sexually assaulted while in college. More than 90% of sexual assault victims on college campuses do not report the assault.

So the question becomes, why would a victim of sexual assault or rape not report the crime to the police? According to the National Institute of Justice, there are a number of reasons which include self-blame or guilt; shame, embarrassment, or desire to keep the assault a private matter; humiliation or fear of the perpetrator or other individual’s perceptions; fear of not being believed or of being accused of playing a role in the crime; lack of trust in the criminal justice system.

To which I say, duh. Talking about intimate issues such as sexual relationships can be awkward with your best friend or even your spouse. Imagine talking about those issues when the experience was a traumatizing one rather than a positive one. Imagine talking about those issues to law enforcement or professionals whom you don’t even know. Imagine defending yourself for being a victim and having people judge you because of clothes that you wore, or alcohol that you drank, or looks that you gave, or places that you went. We don’t blame victims of home burglaries for not having strong enough locks or alarm systems or guard dogs.  Why do we blame victims of sexual abuse?

Sometimes you need someone else to give you the courage to be brave.

This morning I heard a quote that was attributed to Carl Jung which is as follows: “What you most need to know about yourself is in the place you least want to look.” The quote led to a discussion about the importance of bringing the dark things within us out of the shadows and into the light where they can be healed and transformed.  It’s hard to do that with dark things that by their very nature are wrapped in guilt and embarrassment and shame.

Sometimes you need someone else to give you the courage to be brave.

It’s time that we stop questioning victims about why they waited so long to report their victimization.

It’s time that we stop blaming women for their victimization.

It’s time that we stop being offended that women are finally feeling brave enough to come forward with their own stories of trauma and abuse. 

It’s time that we encourage women and men to own their truth. To accept their trauma. To be unafraid to look at the places within themselves they don’t want to look. To be bold enough to bring the dark things out of the shadows and into the light where they can be healed and transformed.

Sometimes you need someone else to give you the courage to be brave.

Sankofa

I heard a word and a concept the other day that I had never heard before. The word was Sankofa. It was described as the concept that we have to know where we have been to know where we are going.

I took some time to look up the word and to read more about it and what I found was that the word is associated with a Ghana proverb which translates as “It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten.”

I spent most of my life with the motto that I would never go backwards because I wasn’t living there anymore. When I married the first time and divorced, I didn’t change my name back even though we had never had kids because it felt like that was going backwards. I hesitated to come back to work at the district attorney’s office almost 2 years ago because it felt like I was going backwards, but I did so because I felt both a calling to be there and like there was unfinished business that I needed to complete.

Over the past few months, I have spent a great deal of time looking backwards.  Not wallowing, not living there again, but looking backwards so that I could work through things I should’ve worked through when I was there the first time but didn’t. Looking backwards so that I could set things down where they belonged, instead of continuing to carry them with me long past the need for carrying them existed.

In the TBRI pre-training that I am doing right now, I heard something the other day that made me realize the importance of looking backwards at times, in depth, and with patience. Dr. Karyn Purvis said, “Parents have to be willing to look fiercely at their own histories. Not casually, but fiercely. I have to be honest and tell myself the truth and take months to process my history with fierce honesty, not just by a quick accounting to a spouse, a friend, or a counselor. And then I have to let go of it with a sense of forgiveness and humor.”

I think that’s part of what Sankofa is on a personal basis. Telling yourself the truth and working through your history with fierce honesty so that you can let go of it with a sense of forgiveness and humor. Going back for that which you have forgotten.

Perhaps you have forgotten what it is to laugh with abandon. Perhaps you have forgotten what it is to play. Perhaps you have forgotten how to let others love and cherish you. Perhaps you have forgotten how to love and cherish yourself.  

Whatever it is that you have forgotten, don’t be afraid to exercise Sankofa and go back and get it. Because we truly don’t know where we are going without knowing where we’ve been. And sometimes in the process of trying so hard not to go backwards into the past, we end up not realizing that we never actually left the past behind us in the first place. Until we tell ourselves the truth and are fiercely honest with our history, we will not be able to navigate our way through the maze of the past and let go of it with a sense of forgiveness and humor. We will just keep wandering around within it, lost, and unable to move on toward our future.

I had lunch with a friend earlier this week and I was telling her about some directions I may be going in the future and she commented that I had a sparkle in my eye now that she had never seen before. That I had always had a look in my eye before, a shadow that she didn't see anymore. My friend Sharon has been telling me for awhile now how much younger that I look lately. I credited that to the fact that I'm eating better and losing weight and exercising on a regular basis. But after this friend mentioned the sparkle, I realized it was more than just external changes that had made the difference in my countenance. It was the internal changes that had really made an impact on my whole being. In bringing dark things in my past to light, and working through them, I have made room for more light within myself.

You see, there were several things that I had forgotten that I needed to go back for.  My sparkle. My voice.  My light. I'm so glad that I was finally brave enough to take that trip. It's one of the hardest ones I've ever taken. But I've come out on the other side of the journey as so much more of me than I was when I went in.  And so much less of what I needed to let go of.  And most importantly, so much more of what God created me to be back in the beginning, before life changed who I was supposed to be.

The things that we see with our eyes

Clayton started individual lessons this summer with a professional artist who specializes in oil paintings and pastels. He works on one piece each week during lessons, and has been working on this one for the last few weeks. It’s taking longer than it usually takes him because the piece is pretty large, 19 inches by 25. Each week he takes photos at the end of each session and shows them to me.  And for the last two or three weeks, I’ve just been bothered by Aaron’s face in the painting. I know I’m driving Clayton crazy because I keep telling him there’s just something off.  I can’t tell him exactly what it is, but there’s just something off. He assures me that both his teacher and he think it is right, but that it’s not finished yet, and there is still more tweaking to do. I’m pretty sure he’s telling me that just to humor me. 

The rational side of my brain says that two artists think the piece is right, and they are far more likely to be right than I am with my uneducated opinion.  But still I have that feeling that something is just off.  Finally, yesterday, I paid close attention to the photo that Clayton is using as a reference photo.  And I realized that he’s right.  The painting looks just like the reference photo.  Just like it. But the photo itself looks a bit off.  Maybe it’s the fact that Aaron’s smile is bigger than is usual or that the sun was shining in his eyes a bit which made him squint a bit more than is typical.  But something about the photo itself is just off from the mental image that I have in my head of Aaron.

It struck me that it didn’t matter what I was seeing in front of my eyes, because the image I had in my head was what I was looking at.  Not what was right in front of me.  And it made me wonder how often that happens in my life with things other than just photos and art pieces.

How often does the image we have in our head color the image we see with our eyes?

How often do we focus on what we think reality is, based on our history, on our biases, on our insecurities, on our shame, instead of what is really right in front of us?

This is true of what we see, and also true of what we hear. I wrote in a blog post recently about how what I heard my pastor say to me at one point turned out to be different than what she had actually said to me, and what a difference that made in her message to me. That’s not the first time that has happened. On more than one occasion, I have heard very clearly one message on Sunday morning and then when I went back later in the week to re-listen to the message to work out some things that had bothered me, I discover that what was said wasn’t at all what I heard. The first time I heard the message, I heard it through my shame. The second time I heard it, I heard it as it was intended.

How often does the message we have in our head alter the message we hear with our ears?

How often do we focus on what we expect to hear, based on our history, on our biases, on our insecurities, on our shame, instead of what is really being said to us?

The TBRI training that I will be fortunate enough to participate in next month has come with a significant amount of pre-training homework over the past few weeks. I’ve learned a great deal already about attachment, and the effects of trauma, and the struggles faced from children coming from hard places. But the one concept that has impacted me the most is the concept of felt safety. Essentially what that means is that feeling safe is not so much about what you know as about what you feel. It’s a feeling that comes from your innermost being, regardless of what may actually exist around you. This is true for children with histories of abuse or neglect but I think it’s also true for all of us.

How often does the feeling we have in our gut alter the way we respond to things that happen to us? How often does that feeling actually change our reality?

How often do we react to things, actually feel things, based on what we expect our reality to be, based on our history, on our biases, on our insecurities, on our shame, on our trauma, instead of what is really happening around us?

I wonder what would happen if we were able to take an objective step back from the things we see, the things we hear, the things we experience. What would happen if we were able to view and hear and experience those things through the filter of reality instead of the filter of shame or fear or bias. Might we see and hear and experience the world, and the people in it, in a whole new way?

Slaying dragons

One of the speakers yesterday at the conference I am attending spoke about his personal history of child sexual abuse. He said that his reason for sharing wasn’t so that people would tell him how courageous he was but so that prosecutors would understand the perspective of the victims. So that  they would understand why the child never reported the abuse. So they would understand the guilt and shame the child would feel. 

And he made a comment that shook me to the core. He said, “I’ve been trying to slay this dragon my whole life.” Trying not to cry in the middle of a room of hundreds of prosecutors wasn’t the greatest part of my day. 

You see, I too have been trying to slay this dragon my whole life. 

I don’t share this because I’m looking for sympathy. Or because I want to hear how courageous I am. I share this because the statistics on child sexual abuse are staggering. 1 in 5 girls and 1 in 20 boys will be the victim of child sexual abuse. I share this because chances are at least one of you reading this has been a victim yourself. I share this so that you know you are not alone. 

I have been trying to slay this dragon my whole life. 

It affected how I viewed myself. How I view myself even now. It affected how I valued myself. It affects how I value myself even now. 

It has influenced and colored every relationship I have ever had. It has influenced most every relationship decision I have ever made. It is a large part of the reason I do not like to be touched. It is probably why I do the work I do. 

I have been trying to slay this dragon my whole life

Adult victims of childhood sexual abuse may know in their heads that the abuse was not their fault. But what they think in their heart, what they feel in the core of their being, is that they were somehow responsible. It’s part of the dynamic that abusers use to control the victim and keep them from telling.  I never told an adult about my abuse when I was a child. Not because I was threatened. I didn’t tell because I was afraid I would get in trouble. Because I had been made to believe I was complicit in allowing this to happen. That’s an internal message that is difficult to change. 

I have been trying to slay this dragon my whole life

Hear me now. If you were a victim of sexual abuse as a child, you are not responsible. You were not complicit. You are not guilty. You were a child. I know it’s easy to hear that and hard to believe it. I know. 

I have been trying to slay this dragon my whole life. 

I first started trying to work through my abuse history with counseling when I was in my late 20’s. I tried it again a few more times through my 30’s until I finally decided I had dealt with it as well as I was going to and just told myself that it was part of my history and I was done with it. But I was wrong. 

I have been trying to slay this dragon my whole life 

I wrote awhile back about realizing this past February that there were issues I still needed to work through and started a process of healing. Part of that process involved writing letters. To myself at different stages of my life, and to others. Part of that process involved talking through things that had happened. Part of that process involved action things to do. One of the things that I was trying to learn, that I am still trying to learn, is how to allow myself to feel cherished. And so my guide through this healing process gave me homework one session. She wanted me to work on learning what it was to feel cherished by cherishing other children in a way that would have been meaningful to me when I was a young victim. She knew I liked to sew and she knew that one of the material ways that I expressed love was to make pillowcases for people. So she told me to make pillowcases for abused children. I told her I already made pillowcases for children with cancer. But she told me that she wanted me to make them for abused children. Being primarily someone who follows directions and also someone who has collected a lot of fabric over the years, I started over the next few days sorting through fabric and matching colors and patterns. Because when I commit to doing something, I typically overdo it, I cut pieces of fabric for 24 different pillowcases. 

And then end of school year and graduation preparation took over my life and I set the pillowcases aside. And during that time, I made a lot of progress in working through things and healing. And so I forgot about the pillowcases. 

Until one day this summer when I had some free time and decided to go work on something in my sewing room. And I walked out and saw the pile of fabric I had cut. And my immediate first thought was I should really finish those pillowcases. And my immediate second thought was I don’t want to. I don’t need to do that anymore. I’ve worked through these issues. I don’t need to do this anymore. But because I’m stubborn and because I knew deep down I was lying to myself, I got to work. Over the next two weeks I worked on those pillowcases. As I trimmed the fabric and pinned together the pieces, and ran the sewing machine and serger, I healed. This healing wasn’t easy. There was a lot of cussing. And a lot of tears. And lots and lots of prayers. For the children who would receive the pillowcases. For myself. And for the person who had victimized me. 

Once all the pillowcases had been pieced and sewn together and washed, I ironed them before folding them for delivery. And as I was ironing, I noticed that the seams on some of the pillowcases didn’t quite match up. That despite how careful my pinning had been, somewhere in the sewing process, the fabric had slipped and so the pillowcases weren’t as perfect as I would have liked. Then I realized that the kids who received the pillowcases were unlikely to notice the imperfections. And if they did notice, they were unlikely to care. 

I realized the same is true for people. The same is true for me. Like the pillowcases, something slipped along the way and I didn’t end up quite as well put together as I started out. But despite those imperfections, I hope that I serve a purpose greater than the individual parts. 

If you are reading this and you love someone who has been abused, love them even more. And give them grace. Know that the feelings of shame and guilt they feel are very real to them even if they make no sense to you. Know that if it’s hard for them at times to have you touch them, it’s not a reflection on you. It’s a side effect of the abuse. There are times that touch may trigger memories of trauma. Love them anyway. But give them grace and don’t take it personally. 

They have been trying to slay this dragon their whole life. 

If you are reading this and you have your own history of abuse and it’s not something you have  ever talked to anyone about, do. Please do. You do not have to live in that prison by yourself anymore. Pick a close friend, or a pastor, or a trusted family member, or a counselor. Find someone you can confide in. Someone you can trust with your story. The feelings of guilt and shame that you feel are thriving because they grow well in the dark. They cannot survive the light. Expose them to the light so you can be released from the power they hold over you. It’s time to be free. 

It is time for you to start to slay your dragon. 

Maybe your seams don’t line up the way they should. Maybe parts of you are a bit more crooked than they started out being. But know that your misaligned seams and your crooked parts make you the amazing person you are. And that you are loved just as you are. Imperfections and all. You are a masterpiece. And you are stronger than you know. Slaying dragons makes you that way. I know. 

I have been trying to slay this dragon my whole life. 

Making honest things

This quote showed up on my Pinterest feed today and fit exactly where I feel I am right now. Exactly who I feel I am right now. 

I pray to always be honest in who I am. Even when it’s not flattering. Even when it’s not popular. I pray to be authentic about who I am and how I am. Some days that picture is prettier than others. 

Today, quite honestly, was not one of my better days. I knew it when it was happening. I recognized that the things I said and how I said them were not particularly glorifying to God. They weren’t a very good witness. 

I know why it wasn’t a great day. I was tired and cold and a bit overwhelmed at trying to get up to speed after almost a full week out of the office. I was dealing with people that I have little tolerance and even less patience for because they don’t make their kids a priority and accept no responsibility for their situations. I’m not using this as an excuse. Because, quite frankly, there is no excuse. I wasn’t as good or kind or effective or as good an ambassador for Christ as I should have been today. 

So I’m not using those things as an excuse. But I am recognizing and acknowledging that there are things that are triggers for me. And I need to be aware of those triggers so that I can better react to them next time. 

Because there will be a next time. And this not the only day I’ll say that I failed in being a very good ambassador for Christ. Because I’m human. And I’m flawed. And I’m a broken person living in a broken world. 

I could spend the rest of the day and week doing one of three things. 

I could justify how today went by saying that the people I wasn’t very nice to today were hateful and ridiculous and that the things I said and did were justified. And in reality, there’s some truth to that. But I know the line and I know I crossed it. 

I could beat myself up over how I fell short and treat myself with the same disdain and lack of respect with which I treated some of the parents today. 

Or I could give myself some grace. Like I do most days to the parents with whom I work. 

And I can try again tomorrow to do better than today. 

Today was humbling. Because I realized, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that I am far from perfect. And that’s okay. I’ll never be perfect. But with God’s grace, I will live into who I am and who I am called to be. And through Him I will make beautiful things. 

Finding my voice

I had a friend send me a text after my last blog post. She said, “you have found your voice”. I have thought a lot since about that concept. 

I think my voice has evolved over the past couple of years. I think it has matured. I think it has strengthened. In ways it has mellowed. But I think it’s always been there. 

It isn’t so much that I have found my voice. It’s that I’m becoming less afraid to use my voice. It’s that all the things that have existed to mute my voice over my lifetime are starting to fall away. The heavy shroud of shame. The challenge of introversion. The internal voice that says who are you that someone would want to hear what you would have to say. The untrue but ingrained message that, as a woman, sometimes I should keep my opinion to myself. The innate peacekeeping personality that is afraid to make waves and ruffle feathers and cause discomfort and/or division. 

All those things still exist. I struggle against them each time I sit down to write. But each time it becomes easier to tune those things out and to concentrate instead on sharing the pieces of me that I believe God has led me to share. Each time someone tells me they were touched by something I have written, it becomes easier for me to write again. Even when it feels like I’m peeling strips of skin off myself to do so. 

So thank you to all of you who encouraged me to write. And who continue to encourage me. It’s been such a blessing. 

In what way do you need to be encouraged? What piece of you does God want you to share that you’re holding back because of fear or shame or insecurity? 

Find your voice. Dig it out from under the piles of stuff that have buried it for far too long. Your story, your voice, may well be exactly what someone else needs to hear to help them to heal.  

Break my heart for what breaks yours

We were driving along the Galveston Seawall this morning before the start of the conference. As I was looking out at the beach and the water, I noticed a man, pretty obviously homeless. His shoulders slumped, his ribs showing through his threadbare, dirty shirt. The bag beside him dirty and worn. His hair stringy and frayed. 

And I thought, what demons has he fought in his life that brought him to this point. The thought that immediately followed was this was once someone’s precious baby boy and I wondered if his mother was still living and wondering daily whether her son was alive. 

And then I realized that this history I placed on him might not be true at all. That, like many of the children I work with daily, his history might be filled with stories of addiction and abuse and neglect. That he might not have felt that unconditional love of a parent at all. Not ever. 

And then it struck me that God loved him that way even if nobody else ever had. And I wondered if he knew that. And my heart broke that he may have never known that. Or if he once knew, he may have either forgotten or stopped believing it. 

There’s a song chorus that goes as follows: 

Heal my heart and make it clean. Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like you have loved me. Break my heart for what breaks yours. Everything I am for your kingdom’s cause. As I walk from earth into eternity. 

Asking God to break your heart for what breaks his is risky business. Because there are lots of things in this world that I believe do so. But I think that’s what we are called to do. Not because God wants us to be miserable. But because he wants us to be his hands and feet in this world. And the way we can be most effective in doing that is to see where those hands and feet are most needed. With the broken and the hurting. With the less than and the looked over. With those in the margins and those in the wilderness. With the least of these. 

Gracious God, let me always have my heart broken by what breaks yours. And give me the heart and desire to be your hands and feet in this hurting world. 

Here I Am: of callings and burning bushes

The message series we are in right now in church is called Here I Am, which is an exploration of Biblical characters who have been called by God for a purpose. The message yesterday was about Moses and the burning bush. Because of course it was.

The discussion of Moses and the burning bush in small group yesterday and in the sermon afterwards marked the 3^rd and 4^th time in two weeks that story has been brought to my attention. The first was a recommendation that I read the story, because of some directions I’m being led in right now, and because of the signposts God keeps giving me along the way. The first time that I read it, I was so surprised. Because this is a story I’ve known since childhood. But never until this time had I ever identified with Moses or seen myself in his story. Always before it had just been a nice story from the Bible about someone else.

The second time this particular message was brought to me was the next morning after I first saw myself in the reading of the story. I was questioning whether I was correctly interpreting where God was leading me and in that questioning, and doubt, and uncertainty, God brought the story of Moses and the burning bush to me again. Through it’s mention in the middle of a podcast I was listening to which had nothing to do with the rest of the subject of the podcast.

But apparently I still didn't get the point God was trying to teach me in the story, because yesterday there it was again. Not once but twice. In conjunction with the sermon message, the subject of our small group class was whether or not we had ever experienced our own personal burning bushes and times in our life we have experienced a call.

What I didn’t say in small group was that it appears that my burning bush moment seems, in addition to other things that are almost laughably obvious, to be Moses’ burning bush story. What I did say was that I have felt God’s call on my life more than once.  That, in those times, God has led me very clearly in a particular direction. That these weren’t directions I had planned to go but God made it so clear that’s where I was supposed to go, that I knew I had to head there. And then when I got to the door that I was sure God was pointing to, I found it was slammed in my face. It’s hard to understand when that happens. To see the lesson in the loss. 

With one of those experiences, I’m still not sure what God’s purpose was. Maybe there was no lesson. Maybe obedience to God’s call was the lesson. The other times God closed doors he was so clearly leading me to, were because I needed to stay in the outer room for awhile longer to take care of things in a way I wouldn’t have been able to if I’d already gone through those doors. And then, at the right time, he led me down the hallway to another and different door that led to a room much more my size and style and color than the first two. During all these times, God was leading me to places that were scary. To places that were outside my comfort zone. To places where I didn’t feel equipped or adequate to serve. To places that caused me, like Moses, to question who am I? 

With the prior two recent exposures to the Moses and the burning bush story, and all that discussion and all that reflection in small group, you would think I would've gotten all I could out of what is essentially 10-11 Bible verses. But apparently not because when I listened to the message of my pastor, the 4^th time in less than two weeks I had been exposed to that story, there were still things that stood out to me. The first were God’s admonitions to Moses, amidst his questioning, and arguing, and stalling. God’s direction to get going.  Just go.

The second was the pastor’s speculation of what it would have been like for Moses if he had put his foot down, despite God’s directions and persistence, and said I’m not going to go. God would have still found a way to carry out his plans, but he would have chosen someone else to do it. She asked how Moses would have felt if he saw the Israelites being led out of captivity and there he stood just tending his sheep. He would have missed out on the greatest calling of his life, because he had not been willing to step outside his comfort zone and heeded God’s call on his life to do more.

I know that God is leading me in a call right now. And I don’t know yet exactly where the door is to which he’s leading me. Or when it will open or what will be on the other side when it does. Or how much discomfort and inadequacy I will feel when I walk through it. But what I do know is this. I want to have the obedience and the courage to get going. To just go. To walk through that door and to meet God on the other side. Because the last thing I want to do is to stand around with my sheep and watch someone else do the thing to which God called me but to which I said no.

Love. Everywhere. Carved in stone.

I have a very dear friend who spends quite a bit of time in Scotland, the country of her birth and formative years, and the country where her husband and eldest daughter now reside. She’s there right now and she sends me photos and videos every few days. 

Usually I call her names when she does this because she’s there exploring castles and listening to men in kilts playing bagpipes, while I’m here, dealing with all that I deal with here on a daily basis. 

One of the sets of photos she sent me this trip was a series of heart shaped rocks. Just everywhere in the water and on the shore. These amazing heart shaped rocks just lying there amidst the other rocks. And I exclaimed “All the ♥️ shaped rocks!!” And her response to me was: “Yes. Love. Everywhere. Carved in Stone.”

Love. Everywhere. Carved in stone. 

That image and that phrase just resonated with me so much. Like God leaving little love notes for us. 

Love. Everywhere. Carved in stone. 

If you know me very well, you know I love to camp. Not because I love mosquitoes. Or being sweaty. Or taking showers in public bathrooms. Or being constantly covered in the smell of campfire and dirt. 

I love to camp because when I am camping, I’m outside all the time that I am awake. There’s no television and no work and limited distractions. And I just slow down and sit still. And during that extended time spent in nature, I am so attuned to God’s amazing creation. Like at no other time. I literally see God everywhere in nature. 

I see him in the wind that moves the leaves on the trees, in the sun on my skin, in the songs of the birds, in the sound of the water lapping onto the shore, in the sun as it sets at the end of the day, in the laughter and conversation of my children. 

Love. Everywhere. Carved in stone. 

The truth is, it’s not that God just shows up when I’m camping. He’s with me all the time. I just don’t often slow down enough to see or hear him the way I do when I’m as still as I am when camping. 

So he waits patiently. And he sends me messages along the way. Through circumstances. Through a devotion or a Bible story that I’ve read my whole life but suddenly now takes on new meaning. Through the words or observations of a trusted friend. 

Love. Everywhere. Carved in stone. 

Sometimes the stones are a little harder to find. Like in the form of bread crumbs mixed amongst the dirt. Sometimes they are whole slices of bread formed into tall mounds like so many ebeneezers. 

Love. Everywhere. Carved in stone. 

I think my goal should be to look for those heart shaped rocks. On even the worst of days. On the days when the circumstances make God’s presence hard to see and even harder to feel. To concentrate on the presence of God in worry as much as I do at rest. To see the bread crumbs. Or to acknowledge the ebeneezers. And to know he is here. In each and every moment. And that he shows me that daily. If I will I just pay attention. 

Love. Everywhere. Carved in stone. 

What is saving your life right now?

One of my favorite podcasts is For the Love by Jen Hatmaker. And one of the questions that she asks each of her guests is one that's named by Barbara Brown Taylor in her book, An Altar in the World.  

That question is "What is saving your life right now?"  It's an important question and one that has a different answer for each person and for each season of life. 

I started thinking about the answer to this question for myself right now, and while I'm sure there are things I'm leaving off, these are the top things that came to mind, in no particular order.  

1.    Reading lots of really good, deep books, most of them written by strong women

2.    Listening to podcasts and learning new things or more about old things. Again, mostly by strong women

3.    Writing about things on my heart or things that I read or listen to that strike me, and that I just have to talk about

4.    Exploring new directions I believe God is leading me to in order to grow me and to use me

5.    Knowing that God is present and relevant and he knows me and he cares about me all the way down to using the smallest details to let me know that reality

6.    Really great friends who love me and who listen to me and who support me and who guide me and who know what questions to ask to make me think and figure out the things that I need to figure out

7.    New church groups and Bible studies that allow me the opportunity to walk this path with others who love God and love others and don't have all the answers but who want to figure out what it means to grow closer to God and closer to each other

8.    My family who keep me grounded and who support me in becoming who I'm meant to be even when it means change for them that may be scary or uncomfortable

9.    My work family who love me and affirm me and and love children and work tirelessly each day to make life better for the least of these
10.   My church, and the people in it, who teach me what it truly means to live as Jesus lived and love as Jesus loves

What is saving your life right now?