Awesome God...Ordinary Girl

From Good to Better...to Best

2012-01-20T06:23:00.000-05:00

Hello flashing cursor and blank white page. It’sgood to be back, my friend.

Has absence made your heart grow fonder? Or will youchastise me for neglect? I have excuses at the ready to explain my time away. Somegood, some lame. But honestly I’ve neglected you for a simple reason—myattention has been focused elsewhere.

And it’s been a good thing.

2011 was a different kind of year. Itbrought a season of stripping away as God taught me some hard lessons aboutholding loosely onto the ways I serve Him. See, I kept a tight grip on the ministries I’d beeninvolved. To me these things were a big part of how Idefined myself as a Christian servant. They gave me joy and filled me withpride and I think occasionally bore fruit.

But truth is, the joy was past tense and thestaying was out of obligation. I soldiered on because I thought that’s what I was supposedto do...and God wanted me to do. Plus my ego confirmed, “You can’t leave. This is who you are. Theyneed you…who will take your place?”

Yet in several areas I knew the time had cometo say goodbye. And in the walking away I didn't feel regret or remorse as expected, I felt relief and renewal and peace.Yes, it was time.

My empty calendar beckoned, “Fill me up. Don’t beidle. Get busy!” But God said, “Be still.”

And in the in-between-time He allowed my emptyhands to grasp more tightly to the passions He’s led me to. And He opened up newways of serving Him and His people. Often in unexpected ways.

But my writing voice remained quiet. The words setaside, seemingly content to be stored away. Lord,are you calling me from writing, too? In time I’ve felt His answer, “Givevoice to the stories I give you.”

After our last trip to Haiti last October I sawthis confirmed as God provided amazing opportunities to share our stories from Haiti. In the telling, people were touched, hearts were softened and eyesopened. Others were blessed and I was too.

I know God’s given me a gift with words but I’ve struggled with my role as a writer. For a while I tried to imitate successful writers' habits. But I could never sustain the focus and drive needed to earn the title, "Writer." Guilt followed my lack of discipline.

It's been rewarding to have my words reach others. And exciting to dip my toe in the pool of publication. But I realized I’ve jumped into the writing dreams of others. And this held me hostage. During my break fromwriting I’ve come to understand that I don’t have a burning passion towrite (and that’s OK)... but I do have a passion to tell the stories that God is sovividly writing on the tablets of my heart. Stories of Haiti and the prison.Stories of His amazing grace. Stories of love in action. Stories of adventureswith my Guide.

Writing is an extension of my greater calling. An integral part of it. So I look forward to 2012 with open ears and anexpectant heart. Excited to see what stories God will tell anew and which ones He’ll continue.

In the beginning of Philippians, Paul says aprayer for the Philippians that strikes me as the secret to success for thisChristian journey we’re on: “And this is my prayer: that your love may aboundmore and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able todiscern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filledwith the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the gloryand praise of God.”

His prayer has become my prayer: to grow in loveand wisdom so that I can discern good and best. Just because I CAN do something, doesn't mean I SHOULD do it. Sometimes "No" is the best answer. I don't know if what I'm doing now is the best, but I do know it's better. And in that I'll keep striving for discernment. Because with the "best" comes with the abundant blessings of Christ. And that, my friends, is where I want to be!

What good (and not so good)things are you clutching? If you loosen your grip, what might Christ give you to hold?

Special Delivery

2011-12-13T08:53:00.001-05:00

With Christmas shockingly near, maybe you've been cramming with online shopping as I have. The UPS trucks in the neighborhood confirm I'm not the only one! Inspired by our usual UPS driver I have a "brown" devotion on Internet Cafe Devotions today. Happy Christmas!

…let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16, NIV)

Tess, my yellow lab, hears it before I do and runs to the window barking. Her response is more urgent than the usual ruckus aimed at dog walkers and taunting squirrels. This is a full-blown, red-alert, “Hurry! Let me out! It’s time!”
I read her obvious signals and drop what I’m doing to open the door.

Tess runs to the edge of the yard and sits patiently. She waits hyper-alert and expectant. Her tail quivers with excitement. Her head cocks as she listens intently. As the familiar rumble gets nearer and the target appears in view, she barks frantically, “Over here! Over here! Over here!”

See, every afternoon the UPS truck comes into our neighborhood. Personally I think the daily arrival of the big brown truck is fairly exciting because it means something fun could be on its way to me—like a book or clothes I ordered, or even a present.

But to Tess, our UPS driver brings something waaaaay better than packages. He brings dog bones.

And every day—whether he has a delivery for us or not—this driver stops at our house to give Tess a Milk Bone. The other day he even backed down the street because he wasn’t turning our way and didn’t want to overlook his furry, frantic friend.

This routine makes Tess so happy and it tickles my heart as well. The man’s kind gesture is a bright spot in my day. Now I too look forward to his daily visit.

More than that, his example shows me how a simple yet faithful act of kindness can make a big impact. Something we may brush off as “no big deal” can encourage someone just at the moment they need encouraging, or lift their spirits just when they need lifting. <Read more...>

Awesome Sauce

2011-12-08T06:45:00.001-05:00

This devotion got lost in the Thanksgiving festivities at Internet Cafe Devotions so I'm offering it as a second helping. Admittedly it's not very Christmas-y, but the message is a tasty treat any time of year.

At the end of October my spindly tomato plants gasped their last breath. The tomatoes’ cracked skins, rot and dark spots told of the ravages from too much rain, cooler temperatures and lessening sunlight.

Although they’d be rejects at any produce market, I picked what I could and brought my battered harvest inside. Since they didn’t look appealing to slice and eat, I decided to make sauce.

I concocted a simple recipe, added the chopped tomatoes, and left the sauce to simmer for a long time. When the time seemed right, I nervously took a taste.

I was amazed! The sauce was awesome—nuanced, sweet and delicious! It shouted, “Blasphemer!” to the jarred sauce in my pantry. I marveled at how a bowl of ugly, half-rotting tomatoes became something so magnificent.

Sometimes I feel like one of those late season tomatoes--overwhelmed by imperfections, cracks and flaws. I feel battered by bad habits, rejection, insecurities and the lies of the enemy. Certainly God, you’d rather choose someone more perfect and appealing.

But I know in my heart this isn’t the way God sees me. Or any of His children.

During His ministry, Jesus’ went out of His way to find the “bad fruit”—like Samaritans, prostitutes, adulterers, lepers and tax collectors. Those who’d been stamped “unacceptable” by society, He gathered them close to forgive, teach, heal and love. It was to the most flawed and the most unlikely that Jesus revealed His Truth and amazing grace.

When the grade A fruit—the Pharisees—asked Jesus why he wasted His time with the rejects He answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” (Luke 5:31-32)

My translation says: “I have not come to pick the reddest and most perfect fruit; I’ve come to gather the bruised, rotting and broken to make something glorious with them.”

Jesus says this to me and He says it to you.

Maybe you feel like you’re less than perfect. That you’re more bad fruit than good. That you belong in the compost pile. Know that this is where our Savior does His greatest work. His grace redeems our spots, cracks and rot. His strength makes our weakness perfect.

Where we see ugliness, God sees beauty. Where we see failure, He sees possibility. Where we see flaws, He sees perfection.

But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.’” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10, NIV)

Just as a pot of half-rotting tomatoes simmered over a flame was transformed into magnificent sauce, our broken, sin-filled lives refined by the fire of the Holy Spirit are transformed into glorious new creations.

That is Awesome Sauce!

We Are . . .

2011-11-17T04:30:00.000-05:00

Penn State. Words of honor and glory, nowassociated with shame and disgrace.

The scandal that’s rocked the country has hit meand my family hard. My husband is a diehard Penn Stater and I, by marriage,have inherited this love. Our blue and white hearts are broken—for so manyreasons. It feels like there’s been a death, and in a way there has. This heartacheis shared by millions in the Penn State family. The vile acts by an evil man haveshattered the lives of innocent children, and have turned a collective dream—ofan idyllic place and idolized people—into a nightmare.

I wonder how a crime like this could happen atall. But especially, how could this happen at Happy Valley. I’ve jokinglyreferred to Penn State as “the holy land,” because it truly is a special andrevered place. It was our Camelot.

As news unfolded and details never-imagined-possiblecame to light, an angry lynch mob swelled—fueled by 24/7 cable TV. Countlesswords have been written, commentated, editorialized, shouted and discussed.Everyone has an opinion about Joe Paterno and the Penn State leadership. Finger pointing has become a competitive sport. Blameis being tossed out like confetti at a concert.

The moral high ground is a mighty crowded placeright now. "I would have done this..."

Justice will surely have its day. It must. But when I look at this from a different perspective, the thing that strikes me most about the mob of onlookers and finger pointers is their stunning lack of grace.

To all those holding pitchforks and flamingtorches, I ask, “Who are you?”…and, “How good do you really thinkyou are?”

Scripture surely paints a dim view of our inflatedsense of goodness:

“There is no one righteous, not even one; there isno one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. … Their mouths are fullof cursing and bitterness. Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and miserymark their ways, and the way of peace they do not know. There is no fear of Godbefore their eyes.” (Romans 3:11, 15-18)

Did you hear that? Not one of us is good.

NOT. ONE. OF. US.

Do you know that there’s someone else who didn’tact as nobly as he should. In fact he acted like a coward. It was Peter.

At the last supper Jesus told Peter, “Truly I tellyou, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me threetimes.”

But Peter, confident of his character and goodness,declared with the utmost conviction, “Even if I have to die with you, I will neverdisown you.” And all the other disciples said the same.

Yet only hours later, as Jesus was tried beforethe Sanhedrin, Peter cowered outside in fear. When confronted about knowingJesus, Peter didn’t defend Him, he denied him—three times—just as Jesus said hewould. The next day Jesus was crucified.

If this scene played out today on CNN and Fox News,Peter would have been in the crosshairs of a furious mob. “What kind of personwould do something like that!” Commentators would pick apart his character andlack of it. He’d be personally blamed for Jesus’ death. And under insane mediapressure the disciples would fire Peter from their group and his name would be foreverstained. Because the court of public opinion had rendered its decision: “Guilty!”

Thankfully and remarkably Jesus doesn’t operate aswe do. Where we condemn, He forgives, loves and restores. He knows full well the mess we are. Heknows we fall far short of the mark, no matter how hard we try. And He knowsthat no matter how good we think we are, we are ALL sinners in need of asavior.

That’s why He came. That’s why He died.

“…for all have sinned and fall short of the gloryof God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption thatcame by Christ Jesus. (Romans 3:23-24)

In her Beloved Disciple Bible study Beth Moore says, “When someone falls they are notnecessarily a fraud—often they are just foolish. Wise is the man or woman whorealizes he or she, too, could momentarily deny Christ. May we never withholdfrom another something that—in due time—we may desperately need.” (p. 50)

Jesus didn’t cast Peter out as we would have, He didsomething far more shocking. He gave him grace.

And He does the same thing for each of us. Amazing grace that saved a wretch like me...

In this time of justified outrage, betrayal andhurt can we do the same? If we say we follow Jesus, do we really have a choice?

We are...
...forgiven
...redeemed
...restored
...justified
...loved
...His.

Undignified

2011-11-08T05:03:00.000-05:00

It doesn't matter what era or continent we live on. What age or gender we are. How rich or poor; holy or sinful; educated or ignorant. When our Creator knit us together in our mothers' wombs, He put His fingerprints all over our souls. And He gave us a universal love language to connect with Him: worship.

Since the beginning, worship has bound God's faithful together. And torn them apart.

After King David brought the Ark of the Covenant back to his city, the people erupted into spontaneous and enthusiastic praise of God—singing, dancing and playing instruments. The most unrestrained of them all, perhaps, was David who "danced before the LORD with all his might."

His wife Michal watched the goings on from a window and thought David's behavior was downright detestable. She greeted him with a verbal slap across the face: "How the king of Israel has distinguished himself today, disrobing in the sight of the slave girls of his servants as any vulgar fellow would!"

Yet, even stinging criticism couldn't dampen David's joy. "I will celebrate before the LORD. I will become even more undignified than this, and I will be humiliated in my own eyes."

I marvel at David's freedom. But for me—and many of those I know—undignified... humiliated... foolish... in worship? Not likely.

In Haiti there's a rural village called Kwa Kok (Cross of the Rooster). There's no church or school there and the residents have to walk two hours to reach the nearest church. As a result most of them just don't go to church.

The Sunday I was in Haiti we brought church to Kwa Kok. Under the branches of a massive shade tree we set up the chairs we'd brought.

"Church To Go." Do NOT try this at home! (Yes the truck is moving!)

People gathered to check out the commotion. They went back to their homes to clean up and put on their Sunday best. Some returned with their own chairs and benches. Soon the seats were all filled and it was standing room only.

Folks quickly changed into their Sunday best.

Pastor Valentin (our Haitian leader) and his wife led the service. Others offered songs and prayers and testimony. The worship was beautiful. And humble. And reverent. No one seemed to notice that we weren't in an actual church.

Part way through the service there was a disturbance. Behind the worship leader (in full view of the congregation) was a dirt lane, and coming down this lane was a man. But he wasn't walking. It seemed he was horribly crippled and only had the use of his left arm, which he was using to drag himself along the dirt to make his way to church. He was filthy and other than wearing a t-shirt, he was completely naked.

At first I was shocked and horrified by the scene. I'd never seen anything like this before, certainly not at church! I wasn't sure how to respond.

But the service never skipped a beat as the man joined us. A few helped him sit on a bench. Then, in what seemed like seconds later, Dessalines (from our Haitian team) walked over to him with a pair of boxer shorts that he and Pastor Valentin helped the man put them on. I remember thinking how remarkable it was that we had an extra pair of shorts with us.

I found out later that we didn't have an extra pair. In a split second, Dessalines made the decision to go into our bus, remove his boxer shorts and give them to the man. Not because someone asked him to do it, but because he loves Jesus—and this is what Jesus would do. (I'm not sure there was a dry eye among us Americans as we witnessed this stunningly beautiful scene.)

The man is there on end, to the right. He sat there all through worship and VBS, clapping as he could.

The man stayed with us all afternoon. Perhaps having church in Kwa Kok was an answer to his prayers. I imagine he heard our singing and decided that no matter how difficult or painful it would be, he had to join us. Did he hope for healing? As he made his was down the dirt path, naked and filthy, did his determination waver as he felt the eyes of the congregation upon him.

Maybe some muttered their disapproval or whispered to their neighbor, "How he distinguished himself today, disrobing in the sight of the Americans as any vulgar fellow would!"?

And yet, surely he responded, "I will celebrate before the Lord. I will become even more undignified than this, and I will be humiliated in my own eyes."

And in his celebration we experienced the love language of worship. Mesi Senye!

There's No Place Like Home

2011-11-02T16:48:00.000-04:00

Haiti. Ayiti. Land of high mountains.

To most of the world, Haiti is about mountains of rubble. Tent cities. Intense poverty. Violence. Government corruption. And death. It’s about brokenness so broken it can never be put back together.

It’s a place we pity. Or fear. Or despise.

To me Haiti is about people and stories and relationships. It’s about beauty and culture. Determination and perseverance. Faith and family. And most of all love. In Haiti God’s love—for others and for me—seems most real. And I feel the most free to share this love.

God has given me many wonderful gifts in my life. Haiti is one of the most wonderful. Why this is true is still a mystery to me. But it is true nonetheless.

This was my third trip to Haiti and it was amazing in its own special way. Going back now is like a homecoming—returning to a place that holds my heart and visiting with friends who now seem like family.

Because our group (of six) was especially small so I had lots of time to deepen relationships with my Haitian friends and get to know them better. Our days followed the traditional model of Foundation for Peace trips: worship in Haitian churches, work at the construction site (we’re building a large vocational school), morning and nighttime group devotions, VBS for the children and a day at the beach. This time I even got to teach English in a school that FFP runs. It was in fact, the same school that my church helped to build!

There are so many stories to share of what I witnessed and experienced. I hope to capture them here so that you see some of the beauty Haiti beholds, and you get a glimpse of a God bigger, more powerful and more faithful than you imagine.

Most of all I hope that these stories inspire you to search your heart for where God is calling you. Where does your heart break for His children? Where is He calling you to follow?

P.S. We are already planning our return trip in March. This trip is open to anyone who wants to join us. No special skills are required. If you live nearby, come to an informational meeting at Woodside Church on November 13 at 11:00am. Otherwise, send me a note to let me know you’re interested and I’ll add you to our list.

Glwa pou Bondye! (Glory to God!)
Bondye beni ou! (God bless you)

Children in a remote village (Kwa Kok) who came to our worship service and VBS. How their clothes are so white astounds me.

My little friend at a worship service...who I finally got to smile.


The massive cathedral in Port-au-Prince, devastated by the earthquake. Walking around felt like walking in a tomb. Very intense.

Heading home from my big adventure teaching -- with Eben and Dessalines.

Our friends on the worksite. Amazing men and such hard workers! Bon travay, zanmi mwen!

VBS at an orphanage.

Going to Visit a Piece of My Heart

2011-10-13T03:30:00.000-04:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted. Life's been busy and priorities have been focused elsewhere. One thing I've been doing is learning to design websites in WordPress so my brain cells have been happy.

Thought I'd jot off a quick few words to share my exciting news.

Tomorrow at this time I will be in the place that has captured my heart more than any other--Haiti. I and two others from my church are flying to Port-au-Prince tomorrow morning. We're heading out for another 10-day short-term mission filled with construction of the vocational school we in March, vacation Bible schools and best of all we'll get to hike again into the mountains to distribute water purification tablets to residents of a rural village. I also hope to connect with old friends...and make new ones.

Here's the school that we broke ground on last March. We spent the entire time digging foundation trenches. This time we'll get to build concrete block walls.

Our team is small...only six of us this time...but I know that though we are few, God is equipping us to be His army. He has prepared the work for us to do. And He knows just where we need to be and whom we need to reach.

Haiti is the one place that breaks my heart for God's people more than any other. The land and the people have captured my heart and a part of it lives there the 345 days I'm back home. My spirit is "right" in Haiti and I feel peace and connectedness in a way I don't at home. To say that I'm excited surely doesn't express the deep longing I have to return.

I am longing to see my Haitian friends, especially my "son" Jude. God crossed our paths and linked our hearts for a reason. I pray I get a deeper understanding of that on this visit. His life is so hard and I feel so powerless to really make much of a difference.

Jude and I.

Our last trip to Haiti was so amazing I know this time will be different, but I trust that God has something new, but just as wonderful in store. Please pray for our team. For our safety. For the work that we'll do. For the people that we'll serve. For the worship that we'll share. For the relationships that we'll deepen. Pray that through it all God is glorified. I especially pray that God shows me how to carry this passion and purpose into the other 345 days of my year.

Where does your heart break for God's children?
Where is your "Haiti?"
What are you doing to get there?

Poser? Or One of Us?

2011-09-19T10:43:00.001-04:00

I used to be a cyclist.

Twelve years ago, after a short but scary battle with cancer, I valued my health as a gift and wanted to do something with it to help others.

I joined the local chapter of Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training—a group that uses marathons, biking and triathlons to raise money for cancer research. I’d long wondered if I had it in me to do a long-distance event.

In the cold of winter we started training for the Santa Fe Century, a 100-mile bike ride. I resisted buying all that ridiculous looking bike attire and an expensive road bike. Seriously, does anyone look good in that stuff?

Months passed and the miles added up. Eventually vanity gave way to practicality. I gave in and bought the jerseys, the shoes and even the road bike. I finally looked—and felt—like a cyclist.

May came and our team flew to New Mexico for the big event. The Santa Fe Century was a difficult, incredible and exhilarating life experience. As a result I continued with Team in Training and did lots more bike riding in the subsequent years—on my own, with my team, at local events, with local clubs.

Besides discovering that I really don’t enjoy biking more than 50 miles at a time, I found that cyclists are a pretty exclusive bunch. In cycling circles, you are without a doubt judged by your gear, your attire, your bike’s fancy extras and your street cred—especially when you’rea woman. The more advanced the group, the more they seemed to say:

“Are you one of us … or are you a poser?” || KEEP READING...||

You Are Our Hope

2011-09-11T21:23:00.001-04:00

Devastation. Terror. Horror.
We sit in the ashes.
Where is our hope?

The father of lies sneers,
“Look. I have taken away your security and confidence and innocence.
I have taken away your family and possessions.
I have destroyed your foundations.
You cannot overcome the darkness.
All is lost.”

Shock. Anger. Grief.
We stare in disbelief.
Where is our hope?
Death overtakes the light.
But for a moment.
Amid the fires of hell.
We lift our eyes.
Where does our help come from?

Even now.
Especially now—our hope is in You.
In the midst of hell.
We feel the nearness of heaven.
You are our rock.
Our fortress and our strong tower.
In this storm, and every storm.
You lift us out of the muck.
And set us on solid ground.

You give and take away.
Blessed be your name.
Praise you oh Lord.
You are faithful.
And steadfast.
And true to your promises.

Out of the rubble and the chaos.
Your make beautiful things out of the dust.
You are making us new.
Day by day.
We are broken, but not destroyed.

No one.
No action.
Nothing can take away what You give.
In You, we are victorious.
Praise be to You O God.
Our savior and redeemer.

On 9/11.
In Haiti.
In death, disasters and destruction.
You are our hope.
Today and always.

This song wrecked me when I first heard it in a slide show on Haiti. It's become a favorite. Today a special choir at church sang this song. It was comfort from heaven.
Beautiful Things by Gungor

29 Ways to Stay Creative

2011-08-25T19:34:00.003-04:00

Jon Acuff is an amazing writer/blogger--probably my favorite. This video was on his blog today. It's so clever and well-done that I wanted to share it. My favorite is #17. What's yours?

29 WAYS TO STAY CREATIVE from TO-FU on Vimeo.

Garden Primer

2011-08-23T03:46:00.000-04:00

Today marked a personal first.

I ate a cantaloupe grown in my own garden.

Now before you admire my exceptional gardening skills, let me tell you—this has been my worst year gardening.
In March I planted cold-weather seeds like lettuce, pea, spinach and arugula. I pictured bushy plants and the bounty of salads we’d have. And I waited with anticipation for the seeds to germinate and the plants to grow—“35 days to harvest” the seed packets promised.

I waited. And waited. And waited. 35 days became 50, then 70...

A few sprouts emerged. The peas gave early hope of success. But just when the peas started to climb their trellis, a critter got to them. It was a pea pod massacre.

Seemingly frozen in time, tiny shoots of lettuce didn’t grow. And I’m not sure the spinach ever germinated! It all gave new meaning to the term “micro greens.”

Discouraged, but not defeated, in May I set my sights to the summer planting. I added compost and fertilizer to spruce up the soil. Tiny tomato, cucumber, zucchini and melon plants made their home in my garden. Yet again, I had hope.

At the end of June (100 days after planting) I discovered that the lettuces had finally grown enough to be picked. Excitedly, I snipped off some tender leaves and went inside to concoct a salad. I took a bite. Mmmm! Wait … does the lettuce taste bitter? Nah. Well, maybe… but it’s not that bad, really.

The next week I picked a leaf of lettuce and bit it. The bitter flavor filled my mouth. “Yuck!” I said and spit it out. Lettuce season was officially over. One, one-person salad was the extent of my harvest. I ripped out the plants to make room for the summer bounty.

The good news is that I’m having the best tomato season I’ve had in a long time. Gazpacho, BLTs, tuna stuffed tomatoes, tomatoes and mozzarella, and plain old sliced tomatoes have been dietary staples for the last month.

The other summer plants showed promise. Now the cucumber vines are yellowing and ready to bite the dust. The zucchini got a root rot after only a few weeks of producing fruit. Now the condition is spreading to the melons and they’re dying too. Plus, the weeds are taking over, too.

But how exciting it was to discover a cantaloupe growing in the giant tangle of melon vines! Our first one—ever. Sadly, however, it might be the only one.

So yes, I’m bummed about the unfruitfulness of my gardening efforts. My gardening motto has always been “low maintenance.” I plant and water, and fertilize a little bit. Veggies grow. We pick them. We eat them. I don’t want to go to a lot of trouble.

In my personal and spiritual life I want low maintenance, too. I‘ll sow seeds to share the gospel, till the soil of my gifts, fertilize a friendship or water a ministry. And I expect to see results.

But often, like my garden, there is no harvest. A friendship doesn’t blossom. Efforts to share my gifts are unfruitful. A ministry withers. I’ll be honest. My response isn’t to dig deeper and try harder. It’s to reassess and move to greener pastures. I don’t want to waste my time—or suffer the disappointment.

In any type of garden—real or metaphorical—it’s hard to keep going when we can’t see the results. But doesn’t this attitude run contrary to the gospel message? Isn’t our motivation for more than what is evident before our eyes? Aren’t perseverance and generosity key components of living a life surrendered to the Master Gardener?

Indeed, God’s Word offers instruction: “Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” (2 Corinthians 9: 6, 8)

I hear Jesus saying, “Keep going. Keep sowing. Keep tending—in all your gardens—one cantaloupe, one heart won for me at a time. Don’t strive for results you can see. Strive because you love me. I will bless your efforts abundantly. Take time to plant and to water, but know that it is I alone, who makes things grow. Trust me to take care of the harvest.”

This week wild weather hit our area. Thunderstorm after thunderstorm dumped buckets of water on my flailing garden. Mini-floods surrounded it. And even hail pummeled it. The wounded plants are history and the living ones are limping.

But, the skies will clear and the sun will dry the soil. Bountiful harvest or not, I’m not ready to quit. After all, fall lettuce planting season is right around the corner and I have hope.

Lettuce, anyone?

Slip Sliding Away!

2011-08-20T16:06:00.001-04:00

It's been a wild week of weather here. Blue skies filled with puffy clouds have quickly turned black as one thunderstorm after another has come through. After one wicked storm--that even included hail--our backyard looked like creekside property. Taking advantage of this rare opportunity, my son headed out for some fun. We all had a great laugh. I thought you might too!

Traveling Lessons

2011-08-16T08:19:00.000-04:00

It's a statistical fact that most young adults turn their backs on the faith of their childhoods. As a parent, do you worry that your kids' faith is equipped for the journey into adulthood? What steps are you taking to prepare them? I'm writing about this today on the Internet Cafe. Grab a cup of coffee and join me there.

I want to thank Harold Camping.

Not because I think the May 21st-end-of-the-world pastor offered much useful information to end times conversations, but because he got people talking. Personally, all the hubbub spurred me to have the “S” talk with my kids.

Not that “S” talk, the other one—salvation.

On separate occasions, I talked one-on-one with my 16-year-daughter and 13-year-old son and asked: “If the world ended today, would you go to heaven?”

Both answered, “I don’t know.”

I followed up, “What do you think you need to do to get into heaven?”

Their responses ranged from “I’m not sure” to “go to church and be a good person” to “believe in God.” Neither of them mentioned Jesus.

Their answers surprised and saddened me since my kids have grown up going to church. When they were little they learned about Jesus at Christian preschool, Sunday School and Vacation Bible School. Back then they were willing and eager faith participants with whom I’d sing Bible songs and teach simple lessons about God. << Continue reading ... >>

This Wandering Heart

2011-08-12T09:03:00.000-04:00

Falling back.

Backsliding.

Straying.

Wandering.

It’s our inclination. Our human nature. Our innercompass. We set out to follow God, but we get distracted, complacent or seducedby something else. We follow our whims and desires. And travel in a differentdirection. Isaiah wrote about this heart condition: “All of us,like sheep, have strayed away. We have left God's paths to follow our own. “(53:6)

Again and again we trade in God’s plan for our own. Itmakes being a Christian darn hard work. Impossible work it seems sometimes.

In our prison ministry backsliding is a common theme. Severalof the inmates gave powerful testimonies this week in the church service. One inmatetold how he’d been actively involved with a prison ministry, coming in everyweek (like our group does). Through tear-filled eyes he shared how he’d “fallenaway” a few months ago and done things that landed him in prison. Now he wasthe one being ministered to. Humbled and broken, he still trusted God’s planfor His life. He encouraged the men, especially those getting out soon, tostick closely with Jesus.

“It’s so easy to stray,” he cautioned.

His words touched us all. And they got me thinking.

So many of the inmates love the Lord and want to start anew life with Christ. But their home environments are filled with drugs,violence, gangs, crime and broken families. When (or if) they get out, thecards are so stacked against them to become productive, law-abiding citizens,let alone faithful followers of Jesus.

When they return home it’s so easy to wanderback into their old lives and habits. The consequences of doing so arelikely harsh and dramatic—putting many right back in prison.

In my own life it’s so easy to stray as well.

So often I choose my own way instead of God’s. I squandermy gifts. I get lazy about prayer, Bible study and devotions. I get distractedand neglect God. And more than anythingelse, I let the ebb and flow of life lure me into complacency, busyness andcomfort.

Certainly my prediliction to wander isn't a bad as the inmate's, right? For starters, I probably won't end up in prison.

Yet, in God's eyes, isn't the end result the same? Haven't we both made the same choice: our own way over God's? Aren't we both left with parched souls and hearts far from the Lord?

Doesn’t my backslidinggrieve God just as much as the prisoners’? In fact, might it grieve Him more?After all He has given me every good gift to succeed: education, money, aloving family, security, opportunity, freedom. The odds are stacked in myfavor.

But I know even these blessings aren't enough to stay the course.

Thankfully God knows the fatal condition of our wandering hearts andgave us the cure—Jesus.

“But he was pierced for our transgressions, he wascrushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, andby his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of ushas turned to our own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.“(Isaiah 53:5-6)

Sinner, saint and soccer mom. We are all sinners saved by grace.Not one of us can stay true to God’s path on our own. Toeach of us, Jesus invites, “Come to me.”

And come we must.

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing: verse 4

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,

Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

Prone to leave the God I love;

Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,

Seal it for Thy courts above.

Hasta Luego!

2011-07-26T14:30:00.001-04:00

It's almost time to say goodbye. Our three weeks with ourSpanish student is coming to a close. In three hours we'll be heading to theairport for our final farewells. Right now our kids are enjoying onelast American outing bowling and clinging to our last moments together.

It has been a wonderful experience in every sense. Norma,our student, was a lovely guest. Everything we could have hoped for. She and mydaughter bonded immediately. And my son, initially shy, opened up and wasteasing his new "sister" in short order -- the international boylanguage of acceptance.

Since two of our neighbors also hosted students we've allspent lots of time together. There's been dinner at a local Spanish restaurant,a camp out, game nights, cookouts, Hershey Park, bowling and just hanging out.My daughter has been able to joion the students on some of their trips andshe's really gotten close with the group.

Last night was the goodbye dinner. Spanish dishes wereshared, stories told and hugs shared. Being together and seeing the emotionsall the families and students shared really consolidated the amazing experiencethis was for everyone involved.

I am so thankful we took a chance to do this, not reallyknowing what it would be like. Our entire family has been tremendously blessedby meeting Norma, making her part of our family and sharing rich experiencestogether. While our final goodbyes will surely be tear-filled, we have expandedour hearts and opened our lives to new Spanish friends. Ones we will hopefullyvisit our Spanish friends in the future. And maybe this will be the start of a summer tradition.

Hasta luego. Dios te bendiga!

Enjoying a day at the beach and learning to boogie board

Hermanos y hermanas

American and Spanish hermanas

Escaping the heat at the Trenton Thunder baseball game

Making an authentic Spanish dish

Tortilla Espanola and Empanda. Delicioso!

All the students at the goodbye party.

Give Me Some Relief!

2011-07-21T17:45:00.002-04:00

So many thoughts. So little time. I have many half-written ideas sailing about in my head, looking for a place to harbor to rest and unload. But in the storm that summer brings, they're finding none and drifting out to the far reaches of my consciousness, hoping to set anchor another day.

Right now the number one topic of conversation is the heat. Here in the Philadelphia area it is 98 right now. Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter. Much of the country is under a sweltering blanket of blistering misery during the nation's worst heat wave in years.

I write this from the luxury of my air conditioned home and savor the respite we have from the stifling heat. But, if you're 40 or older, chances are you didn't grow up with air-conditioning. You lived with fans and shade trees and swimming pools and cold glasses of lemonade. Life was sweaty and uncomfortable, but it went on. (I didn't live in an air-conditioned house until 13 years ago!)

As I read the paper this morning I couldn't help think that when it comes to the heat, we've become a bunch of crybabies. Somehow since the beginning of time, societies survived and even thrived without air conditioning, yet now we view this modern luxury at the top of Maslov's Hierarchy of Needs along with food and water.

The issue specifically in my cross-hairs is that in order to save a substantial amount of money, Bucks County (where I live) has decided to turn off the A/C in county buildings for three hours (from 3 to 6pm) on the hottest days of the summer. The County Commissioners call it, "a shared sacrifice." The temps inside county buildings, including the prisons, are rising to about 84 degrees. (My daily thermostat is set at 80.) Complaints are coming in saying this is akin to abuse. That it's intolerable, punishing and inhumane. They say people are getting sick and fainting.

Seriously?! Three hours without air-conditioning is abusive? Have you been to Haiti or Somalia . . . or even your own inner city? A/C schmacy. The world is filled with people living without homes and food and clean water. And three hours without cooled air is insufferable? Imagine our soldiers in Afghanistan wearing full body armor in 140 degree heat, weighed down by an automatic weapon, ammo and gear. That, is a sacrifice!

In our quest for lives lived in climate-controlled comfort I fear we lose sight of the bigger picture. Of the better things. Of the truly important and valuable.

As followers of Jesus, we're supposed to live life differently. If you and I can't survive trial by summer heat, how will we survive the trials by fire? God says, "See, I have refined you, though not as silver; I have tested you in the furnace of affliction." (Isaiah 48:10) Heat burns. And refines. And makes pure and precious.

Heat is a necessary part of the process: "These [trials] have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." (1 Peter 1:6-7)

And in this life it's a given: "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Will we accept the refining by fire . . . or will we hunker down in air-conditioned comfort to escape the heat?

ETA 7/26/11: Last Friday was 102 degrees . . . plus humidity. It was horribly hot and I spent the day inside the air-conditioning crying like a baby!

Not Good . . . but Better!

2011-07-12T06:28:00.001-04:00

It’s no secret I have a yen for home improvements but with bathrooms and front doors finished, and no plans for the near future, I've been getting a little antsy. So I set my sights on improving the space right here...my blog. Welcome to my spruced up corner of the blogosphere.

I’ve been writing here for more than three years—sporadically more than anything, but pressing on nonetheless. It's been a place I've pondered and processed and grew and shared. As I reflect on these last years—almost 300 posts and tens of thousands of words written—I see that while I've changed the look of my blog, God has changed me.

When I started writing here I was playing lots of tennis and having a great time with it. Much of my days were filled with tennis matches and drills and lunches with friends. Life was good and full and carefree. But tennis had become more than a hobby; it was more like a part time job (that I paid for). And something inside told me that God hadn’t put me on this earth to spend my days that way—that He had more planned for me.

I pulled back from tennis a bit, but continued to play competitively. And then in a match almost exactly three years ago from today, I went for a shot and hurt my elbow badly. The diagnosis? Tennis elbow. What should have gone away in 12 weeks lingered for months. I saw many doctors and therapists, and tried all sorts of treatments. Nothing worked. “Give it time,” most of the specialists said.

The fall tennis season started without me and I mourned the loss of a big part of my life. I looked for ways to fill my surplus of free time and started to write more. I started to focus less on myself and more on others. I discovered gifts I didn’t know I had. And my relationship with God became more intimate and personal.

When I look the last three post-tennis years, I am amazed at the places God has led me. How He’s changed my outlook and centered my thoughts on His work. His children. His purpose for my life.
Since I set down my tennis racket, I’ve:

Been to writers’ conferences
Joined a writers’ group.
Had stories and articles published (and actually got paid!)
Been on—not just one—but four mission trips. And have plans for more in the near future.
Developed a deep love for missions and Haiti in particular.
Joined the prison ministry.
Backpacked the Grand Canyon.
Confronted (although not conquered) my fear of public speaking.
Made close friends who have a heart for writing, for missions and especially for the Lord.

I don’t know why I hurt my elbow…or why it refuses to get better. Was it bad luck? An accident? Divine intervention? Perhaps. I do know that when one door closed, a wonderful path came into view. One I started on reluctantly, but now travel enthusiastically. On the road I’ve experienced God in rich and powerful ways. He’s opened my eyes and broken my heart to love His children. And He’s awakened a sense of adventure that is such a part of who I am now.

With the improvements God’s done in me, it’s fitting my blog reflects that change. I no longer see myself as primarily a thinker. A ponderer. An observer. Now I’m a do-er. A risk taker. An adventurer.

And with our awesome God as my guide I’m discovering I’m not so ordinary after all.

We may be happy and comfortable in our lives, but our plans are not always God’s plans, and the good things we do are not always the best He has in store.

Where is God be leading you from "good" to "best" ... from thinking to doing?

"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." (Romans 12:2)

Haiti and Me . . . March 2010

And the Summer Adventures Begin

2011-07-06T07:22:00.005-04:00

Wow! Where has the time gone? Summer officially started here when the kids got off school 20 days ago and it’s been a blur. A good blur, but a blur nonetheless.

We started off our summer preparing for our church's annual Dominican Republic mission trip. This year just my husband and kids were going. The team of 23 men, women and children met in our church parking lot on June 22nd at 3:30am and set off to Santo Domingo for ten days.

It was a fabulous trip for everyone! Each day they made tremendous progress on the worksite (a school/church/medical clinic/water treatment facility)—the same project we’ve been working on for the past three years.

The “old-timers” on the team (including my family) were thrilled to reunite with their Dominican friends and the newbies were old-timers in no time at all. As has come to be the norm for these trips, language and cultural differences didn’t stop Dominicans and Americans from becoming one happy family.

Dan kept us all posted with a blog he wrote—as the internet connection allowed. If you haven’t read it yet and want a look at a wonderful short-term mission experience, check it out (www.woodsidemissionaries.blogspot.com).

God was so evidently at work in it all—the friendships, the work, the worship, the fellowship. As has come to be expected on these trips, God knit together the hearts of His children and used the many experiences to touch so many so deeply. Lives will be forever changed.

During the final night’s worship/goodbye service American and Dominicans joined as family for one last time—until next year. Members from the team were invited to share their testimony and I’ve been told by many who were there that my daughter shared a testimony that was eloquent, emotional and had everyone in the place crying.

To see both of my children blossom and bloom on this trip made my mama heart grow ten sizes. I thank God for His goodness and for answered prayers.

Since the ten days that my family was away was a bit too many days to be home alone, I headed to Florida to visit my sister for a week.What a treat to enjoy so much one-on-one time together. We rested, we played, we talked, we worked a little and boy oh boy did we eat! And then I came home and spent three glorious days (literally the weather was spectacular) home alone.

As I read each update from the DR I questioned my decision to stay behind. But as the days of the trip progressed I felt that God had us all right where He wanted us.

The missionaries returned to a heroes’ welcome--happy and full of stories (and dirty laundry)—softly landing into life with a picnic at our house. What a blessing it was to be with them all and share in the glow of their experience!

While life has been full lately, I sadly haven’t written anything at all! I have, however, been observing, processing and storing up bits for later. We’ll see what comes out the other side.

For now it’s on to our next adventure—hosting an exchange student from Spain who arrived this afternoon. She’s with a group of students from Spain who are here to immerse themselves in English and visit the local sights. Dan and I immediately declared her delightful, and the kids are already planning to visit her at her home in Valencia! Despite it being 1:00am Spain time, and she’s likely weary from traveling, she happily agreed to go with my daughter to a youth group Bible study this evening.

I am excited for this experience—for what we might learn from our guest and for what we might teach her. While much of her time is scheduled, I imagine we’ll show her sights in the area and experience things we’ve always wanted to do and never have. If you’re from the Philadelphia area, do you have any suggestions?

What adventures do you have planned for the summer?

Blessing the "Yes!"

2011-06-24T08:51:00.004-04:00

Today's my devotion is running at Internet Cafe Devotions. It's a topic I've written a lot about, but one that keeps knocking my socks off. I hope you'll read on and join me there.

Three years ago our couples’ Friday night Bible study tossed around missions ideas we might do together. From the comfort of our college-educated, suburban lives we made logical suggestions—the homeless shelter, tutoring, a food pantry or Habitat for Humanity—but we rejected them all. As our minds searched for new ideas, someone said, “What about prison?”

No one said “no.” In fact no one said anything. We sat stunned and silent. Seconds clicked by and God stepped in. We agreed in unison, “Yes! Prison ministry.”

Moments later I wondered, “What have we done?”

None of us brought a single qualification to prison ministry yet we pursued the idea anyway. Through several “coincidences” God led us to a local prison ministry that ran a weekly worship service. To our surprise its leaders welcomed us, and within a couple months we made our first visit to a maximum security men’s prison.

We weaved our way down the institutional hallways, deeper into the prison, to the chapel.

The service was nothing like I expected or had ever experienced. The inmates who attended were friendly and polite, not scary or threatening. And the service was loud, joyful, spirit-filled and uplifting. Today the prison chapel is my favorite place to worship.

Yet I still struggle to find my place in the ministry. The little voice inside reminds me I don’t belong. First of all I’m a woman—a bit out of place in a men’s prison. My life story doesn’t resemble the harsh realities the men have faced, so I can’t relate to their specific struggles. Plus, I don’t lead worship or sing or play an instrument.

My sensible side adds up the facts and says, “leave.”

But God says, “stay." {Keep Reading}

They're In and They're Perfect!

2011-06-14T07:04:00.001-04:00

Sorry to keep you hanging! A few of you asked about the grand door adventure and how it turned out. I am happy to report that all went well. The entire installation process went smoothly and we are now the proud owners of new front doors. The front of my house is smiling and so am I. I can't believe what a difference the doors make to the outside and inside of our house.

In the end it was worth the wait and worth the indecision. I am one happy homeowner (and Dan is too).

Thankfully they are the correct doors! Fresh off the truck and ready to be installed.

What a difference. The foyer is so bright now! (The green in the glass is the grass and foliage.)

After so much indecision, I am SO happy with our choice! And SO happy to be done thinking about it!

What home improvement projects make you happy?

Today is THE Day!

2011-06-10T10:25:00.000-04:00

Today is the day! After months and months of deciding, hours of researching choices, dozens of times changing my mind and weeks of waiting for delivery, today is the day our new front door will be installed!

Before

As you may recall, deciding on a front door had me tied up in a knot of indecision. Dan and I have made lots of home improvement decisions in our twenty years of home ownership, but making this decision was the hardest. Don't ask me why. All I know is that I'm at peace with the decision we made and I now know A LOT about entry doors! I also know the staff at our local Lowe's very well.

Wesley, my main contact in the door department, deserves an award. I told his boss he needs a raise. Through all of my mind-changing, re-configuring, re-estimating, follow up phone calls and repeat visits, he kept his patience and sense of humor. Last month when we sat down to finally write up the order I asked, "Has anyone ever taken so long to buy a ..."

Goodbye banged-up, dingy, wobbly door

Before I finished my sentence, he said, "No!"

I joked, "But, look how much joy I've brought to your life!"

I've been in Lowe's a lot recently and whenever I have a few extra minutes I swing by the door department to say "hi" to Wesley. He told me he'd been keeping an eye on my door while it sat in the back waiting to be installed. (I think he wants this job finished as much as I do!)

Customer service is such a lost concept these days that when I actually receive it, I'm surprised--and appreciative. My door's not installed yet (and I'm not getting paid for this endorsement) but I must say that all the staff at our local Lowe's is terrific. They're attentive, friendly and thorough.

I'm hopeful my door will testify to these facts as well!

** This just in . . . the installer just pulled up to the house! I am so excited!!! I just love changes and improvements. Especially when someone else is doing the work. Stay tuned . . . **

It's finally here! But is it the correct door?

Nothing But the Blood

2011-06-08T12:26:00.000-04:00

It was a sacred space. Time and place set aside. An anointed offering.

Though I was there, I was more witness than participant. I watched and listened. I stored those holy moments as treasures in my heart. And I remember.

They came in slowly. One or two at a time, eventually filling the cinderblock room to half full. They sang, clapped and swayed to the music. Soul-filled prayers touched dark corners and broken places. Some shared an embrace or laid on a hand of encouragement. Some knelt and prayed. Tears flowed freely. Sobs of agony, shouts of affirmation, words of praise shot heavenward like rockets.

Worship in the prison is always unexpected, but last night was different. It was chaotic. It was spontaneous. It was divinely powerful. And it was incredibly personal.

“Have you way with us, Lord” they prayed. And He did.

I saw with my eyes and can testify. There is no dominion too evil, no heart too broken, no walls too impenetrable that the Spirit of God cannot overcome, penetrate and transform.

“Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55)

Brokenness. Pain. Rage. Weakness. Unforgiveness. Insufficiency. Sin. Revealed, acknowledge and presented to the Judge.

The verdict?

“I love you,” He said.

“But look at me. Look at my life. Look what I’ve done,”

“I love you,” He said.

"But . . ."

"I love you," He said again.

All because of the blood. The blood. The blood.

Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

All for One

2011-05-24T07:25:00.000-04:00

I'm writing today at Internet Cafe Devotions. I wrote this before the Presbyterian Church USA decision, so it's even more timely now. I hope you'll join me there. Plus the Cafe is having a big summer giveaway!

“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.” (Ephesians 4:3-6)

When I was younger, my best friend (a cat lover) and I (a dog lover) would often argue which made superior pets: cats or dogs. No matter how many times we went round and round, we always ended up exactly where we started—each of us firmly entrenched in our original positions, wondering how the other could be so blind to what was so obvious. We felt sure that the other was…well…wrong.

Rivalries seem to be built into the fibers of our beings.
Republican vs. Democrat
Mars vs. Venus
Yankees vs. Red Sox

We’re not shy to promote our points of view. When we encounter rivals the exchange might be good-natured or a bit more “heated.” In the end we’re usually confident our thinking is right and the other person is…well…wrong.

But what happens when we bring this rivalry and single-minded thinking into the Church? It has certainly led to a lot of us vs. them in the body of Christ.
Evangelical vs. mainline denominations
Catholic vs. Protestant
Traditional vs. contemporary

According to the World Christian Encyclopedia, what started as one unified Church has become over 33,000 Christian denominations worldwide and over 6,000 in the United States alone. Churches have split over every conceivable point of pride, passion, practice and preference. It seems a lot of believers think plenty of others are…well…wrong.

I’m passionate about my faith, but I can be single-minded. While I’ve experienced the Church in ways far bigger than the four walls of my home church, I still hold points of view that I think are right. I might not have God in a box, but he’s certainly in a fenced yard. Read more . . .

I Do...All Over Again

2011-05-19T18:31:00.000-04:00

Twenty-one years ago Dan and I stood before family, friends and God and promised our forevers to each other. The service was beautiful. The May day was picture-perfect. Every carefully planned detail fell into place. Joy bubbled over. It was the Best. Day. Ever.

Not once during our engagement or our twenty-one years of marriage have I questioned, regretted or second-guessed my decision to marry Dan. I have always had full confidence that he was “the one.” It’s a confidence we both share. And it’s been an anchor that has kept us from crashing on the rocks during stormy seas.

I know many whose marriages aren’t safe, secure or supportive places. I thank God for the assurance that has made my marriage a safe harbor. I know it’s a gift.

Believe me in two decades of togetherness Dan and I have had our struggles. But no matter what the issue, as we’d muddle through we’d find ourselves right back where we started twenty-one years ago—of one mind and one heart. What separated us has never been greater than what joined us.

Today marriage is an endangered species. Divorce is so common we accept and even expect it as a by-product of marriage. This morning I read that the divorce rate has actually gone down. Good news, I thought. Until I read on and discovered that this is primarily because more couples are choosing to live together rather than get married.

“’Til death do us part” seems like an old-fashioned notion—so out of touch with the realities of today. But I believe in marriage more strongly today than I did two decades ago.

Something incredible happened in the Garden of Eden. God created man, and it was good. God created woman to be with man, and joined them in marriage—and it was very good. Man and woman together. It was God’s design from the beginning. Two flesh, united as one.

We are better together.

Marriage isn’t easy. It’s not always fun. It’s often ugly and messy. Too often I offer my worst—my most impatient, frustrated, critical and controlling self. But I’m a work in progress and so is Dan. Where there is love, there is forgiveness.

So, today I celebrate my marriage and my traveling companion on the adventure. Dan introduced me to a “buck-up-little-camper” attitude which isn’t just good advice on the trails, but in the trials as well. Together we’ve traveled through the peaks and valleys of life before children, parenthood, self-employment, home improvements, finances and relationships. We’ve explored, hiked, biked and backpacked some spectacular places together.

But the most wonderful journey so far is the one of faith we travel, now that we’ve both chosen Jesus to be our Guide. As God continues to enter our marriage I feel our best adventures are yet to come—in the ministry, in the mission field, in fellowship or wherever God leads.

Today I pause to reminisce and reflect, and to reaffirm before God: “Dan, I do. Until death do us part.”

What Are We Doing With It?

2011-05-13T17:49:00.002-04:00

I’m sitting on my deck enjoying perfect spring weather and savoring doctor-prescribed downtime as I recuperate from knee surgery. I’m working on my tan, and enjoying the sounds of birds and the breeze rustling the leaves. Thoughts of conflict and controversy are far from my peaceful mind.

That is, they were . . . until I read an article announcing THE decision. And now I find myself stepping out of my safe shelter into the storm that rages around me, not wanting to but feeling I must.

On Tuesday The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) voted to allow the ordination of openly gay and lesbian ministers. They actually removed phrasing in the constitution that required those ordained to live “either in fidelity within the covenant of marriage between a man and a woman” or in “chastity in singleness.” So now living together outside marriage is also acceptable. My church is Presbyterian so this issue hits close to home.

Some of the dearest to my heart are gay. This isn’t about loving or hating homosexuals. This is about God’s truth. Truth revealed since the beginning of time. Truth that is unchanging from generation to generation.

Today it’s about gay clergy. Yesterday it was about divorce, pre-marital sex or abortion. Tomorrow it will be something else.

Our society is increasingly tolerant of just about every lifestyle and personal choice—“If it works for you, who am I to disagree.” It’s difficult--and incredibly unpopular--to draw a line in the sand between acceptable/unacceptable, moral/immoral and right/wrong because every issue is gray, debatable and filled with nuance.

But, truth is not relative. We don’t get to make it up, change it or alter it based on our experiences, culture and opinions. Not today. Not two thousand years ago. And not in 10,000 years.

Look at the red letters in the Bible. Jesus didn’t deal in nuance. His teachings were tough then and they’re tough now. He didn’t come to the world to win a popularity contest, He came to win souls for the kingdom of heaven. But He didn’t mince words, sugarcoat his message, worry about building self-esteem or fear being labeled as “intolerant.” He spoke the straight, unvarnished truth.

And it's unsettling and hard to hear. "For the word of God...penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." (Hebrews 4:12) Many who heard Jesus got angry and defensive and rejected the truth. But some allowed the truth to penetrate their hearts.

Like the apostle Paul. In one dramatic encounter Jesus transformed his heart from zealous murderer to on-fire Christian. As a result Paul devoted his life to spreading the Good News. However his faithful adherence to the gospel message brought lots of misery and pain. He was ridiculed, slandered, beaten, flogged, stoned, arrested and more. Even after he was stoned, dragged outside Lystra and left for dead, Paul got up and went back into the city. Did he allow popular opinion to softpedal the truth God wrote on his heart? Never.

“. . . but just as we have been approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel, so we speak, not to please man, but to please God who tests our hearts. For we never came with words of flattery, as you know, nor with a pretext for greed—God is witness. Nor did we seek glory from people, whether from you or from others, though we could have made demands as apostles of Christ.” (1 The 2:4-6)

Today many churches and Christians are unwilling to take the same stand as Paul did. In an effort to stay relevant, popular, attractive, profitable or whatever, churches have taken the teeth out of the gospel message. They've tamed the Lion of Judah and turned Him into a pussycat.

The body of Christ is supposed to stand out in the world. We are supposed to look differently, act differently and believe differently. But instead of the church transforming the world, the world is transforming the church. In A Call to Anguish, David Wilkerson said, "And I look at the whole religious scene today and all I see are the inventions and ministries of man and flesh. It’s mostly powerless. It has no impact on the world. And I see more of the world coming into the church and impacting the church, rather than the church impacting the world."

A recent study by the Barna Group showed that Christians in the United States are virtually indistinguishable from the rest of the population. We give as much, volunteer as much and even get divorced as everyone else. We don’t stand out, we blend in. How can this be?

Jesus gave us a gospel message that is radical, revolutionary and life-changing. For heaven’s sake, what are we doing with it?

Do You Get It?

2011-05-06T06:33:00.001-04:00

Yesterday morning I was at a Bible study with some women. The topic of conversation turned to salvation: What is is? What does it mean? And how do you receive it?
The leader presented the salvation message as it appears in the Bible. Even though many of the women have been coming to this study for a year or more, some of them still have trouble letting go of the idea that "good" people go to heaven and "bad" people don't. They don't see themselves and their sin as "not that bad" in comparison with others. Certainly not in comparison to a murderer's at any rate.

"I don't get it," one woman confessed.

Having been in Haiti and the prison, I've seen stark contrasts to my own life. My conclusion is that living a safe, comfortable, suburban lifestyle might be desirable, but it is one of the greatest stumbling blocks to receiving the gospel message of Jesus. Our perceived goodness gets in the way of our "getting it."

One thing that has removed the blinders from my eyes and truly shown me the meaning of grace has been worshipping with the inmates in the prison. These guys get it. They're "bad" guys and they know it. They know they've messed up and they need help fixing their lives. They know they need forgiveness. And this knowledge allows them to passionately embrace God's gift of salvation through Jesus.

In a way I think they have it easier because their sin and brokenness is more visible. There's no escaping it. It's easier to see their need for grace.

I've heard many Christians claim they are "better" than people in prison. Well, I have met ex-convicts who burn with the passion of Jesus and whose lives are totally committed to serving Him. I met a murderer who I wanted to stand closer to just so some of the grace that poured through him would spill on to me. I have seen how the transforming power of the Holy Spirit can turn around an addict who society discarded into into a life of beauty.

The hard truth is that we are all wretched:
"There is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God." (Romans 3:11)
"All the right things we have done are like filthy pieces of cloth." (Isaiah 64:6-7)

There is no one holy, not one.

Our sin is every bit as offensive to God as a criminal's. It was my sin that put Jesus on the cross. And yours. And the gang member's. And the murderer's. It's a hard pill to swallow.

But, accepting this sober truth doesn't bring condemnation, it brings freedom. Freedom to see ourselves with new eyes. Freedom to accept the gift of grace that Jesus offers. Freedom to allow the Spirit of God to work in our life. "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." (John 3:17)

Are you good?

Or do you get it?

Where is Your Anguish?

2011-04-29T09:13:00.000-04:00

I’m a slow writer. Which makes me a less frequent writer. How I envy someone who can spend 20 minutes at the keyboard, write something coherent and get on with his or her day. I write for 20 minutes…30...an hour and more. Sometimes by the time I finish, I forget where my words were heading. Today I’m challenging myself to write this in one hour or less so I apologize in advance for lack of clarity or brevity.

I’ve been back from Haiti for almost two months—55 days to be exact. And still my heart aches to go back and do something. To do lots of somethings that will make a difference. Why did God connect my heart to Haiti when I’m here and they’re there, and I feel so helpless?

Yesterday David Wilkerson died. He was a pastor, one of the greats, with an incredible ministry that impacted the world. I didn’t know much about him until yesterday, but news of his passing came to me in several ways so I checked him out.

Decades ago he developed a heart for gang and drug addicts and went on the streets to minister to them. This led to him to start Teen Challenge, an evangelical Christian recovery program and a network of Christian social and evangelizing work centers. There's a Teen Challenge here in PA that our prison ministry helps get guys into. I've heard great things about how it really changes men's lives and gives them hope for a fresh start.

Last night, Bob, the head of the prison ministry sent us all a link to one of David Wilkerson’s messages, "A Call to Anguish." "You must listen!" He implored. And so I did. I urge you to spend ten minutes today and listen to this, too.

Listening to Pastor Wilkerson's passionate, emotional and fiery words I felt him grab my shoulders and shake me to pay attention. Conviction stirred deep in my center. What am in anguish for, for the Lord? Where do I look and my heart break? I have plenty of projects, but do I have passions?

His were life-changing words. When the message ended, I sat at my computer, unable to move on, immobilized by his words. Letting them find a place. Praying they’d light/re-ignite/guide a fire within me. I grabbed my journal and pen and wrote my response. Let my thoughts pour out.

Lord...Where is my anguish? Where does my heart break? Where is my passion?

In Haiti.

On a daily basis I don’t know what to do with that answer. Life creeps in and takes over. My day to day is filled with kids and carpools. Work and house responsibilities. Friends and family. It’s all good and I feel blessed. But my soul stirs for Haiti. How do I respond?

I have a few thoughts and ideas, but I keep hoping that God will reveal the "big thing." It would make it all much easier, wouldn't it? Or, perhaps in doing the little things, the big will into focus?

I love my life, but deep down I believe it's not all God wants of me. My day to day is so much more about me and what needs to get done than it is about Him. The American Dream is good, but is it really God's good and perfect plan for my life...or for yours.

Where is your anguish? Where does your heart break for God's people? Where is your passion?
And what are you doing about it?

good news or Good News?

2011-04-26T07:03:00.001-04:00

He is risen!

I can’t believe how many Easters I celebrated without understanding what those words really mean. And I can’t believe how wonderful Easter is now that I do.

He is risen—and all of history is forever changed. And by my knowing, I am forever changed.

Attending Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services last week, and walking through the events of Jesus’ final week—the majesty, solemnity, betrayal, final words and tragedy—made the glory of the resurrection all the more impactful.

Even though the story is a familiar one, the magnificence of its retelling grows brighter each year. Every year I gain a greater understanding of and a deepening awe for Jesus’ sacrifice. The Easter story isn’t just a tale to be passed down through generations. It is truth revealed.

In one dramatic act, planned from the beginning of time, Jesus conquered death, overcame sin and defeated Satan. The entire course of history changed. The consequence of this is so great I think it will take a lifetime and then some to fully comprehend God’s love shown through Jesus…for me…and for you.

He is risen! And this is Good News indeed!

This year Easter fell in the midst of other good news. Good news that’s been reported on for weeks. Good news that’s so monumental that journalist have dedicated hundreds of hours to reporting every detail and nuance of the story. Reporters are currently on location jockeying for prime position, trying to discover, interview, analyze and uncover even more nuggets of insight. By the end of the week all eyes will be focused on the spectacle.

What is this event of such life-changing significance? The wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton of course.

I love weddings and am a big fan of marriage, but am I the only woman who is befuddled by the frenzy over their pending nuptials? I don’t get it. Why are we so smitten with a story that involves people we don’t personally know, in a country that’s not our own and whose marriage won’t affect our lives one single bit?! Doesn’t all the hoopla seem a wee bit overblown?

Why all the fuss? Is it our enduring hope for a happy ending? For fairy tales come to life? For the grandeur of kings and queens.

I wonder if in consuming the frivolity, are we snacking on that which lasts for a moment and overlooking the feast that lasts forever?

A royal wedding is good news, but Jesus is the Good News. In Him, we don’t have to envy royalty we become royalty—princes and princesses, heirs to the inheritance. We don’t have to wish for a happy ending, we are assured of one. We don’t have to dream of castles and kingdoms; the Kingdom of Heaven comes to us.

When we follow Jesus, Easter isn’t good news we celebrate once a year, it’s the Good News we live out every day. It's life changing, revolutionary, intimate and eternal.

Obviously the media and the masses won’t tell this story. We must proclaim, share, tell, teach and invite. Perhaps this is why Jesus’ final words to His disciples instructed them to do just this: “…go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20)

He is risen! And that changes everything. Share the story!

This song has run through my head all week and tells the story perfectly

Christ is Risen by Matt Maher

Together

2011-04-13T12:17:00.002-04:00

This is the third installment of my Haiti series. You can read the others here: Follow and Thirst. Bondye beni ou...God bless you.

“And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.” (Ephesians 2:22)

My favorite part of the day is the mornings when my kids are off to school, my work-at-home husband is at a meeting, and it’s just me in the house with a solitary, quiet canvas on which to write, organize and create.

This is where I am right now and it’s blissful.

I cherish quiet and time to myself, and retreat from chaos. In fact, when I went on my first mission trip one of my biggest fears was the lack of alone time we’d have. I feared that being so tightly scheduled and closely situated with others 24/7 would make me cranky. To my surprise, I discovered the complete opposite to be true. I loved living in a “community” and instead of my spirit withering, it flourished.

It’s been a little over a month since I’ve returned from Haiti and while my time at home has been good, nothing has come close to matching the sense of belonging and togetherness I experienced in Haiti. My stomach still flutters in excitement when I think about it.

And right now, despite my contentment with the present, if I could bring my family with me I’d give anything to be back in Haiti living every minute of every day, shoulder to shoulder with my brothers and sisters. Having early morning devotions on the roof, singing on the bus, digging on the work site, hiking, eating, laughing, worshipping and just hanging out.

How is it possible that in only ten days we formed such strong connections with one another, and with the people and place we came to serve?

Obviously it was a gift from God.

But there were specific things about the experience that made it special.

We shared a common purpose.
No on put his or her desires before anyone else’s.
Everyone was willing to do whatever was asked.
We shared whatever we had with one another as needed: snacks, medicines, money, clothes, phones, a shoulder or helping hand…anything.
We laughed a lot.
We freely added to our group and our ”family” grew.
We covered the experience in prayer and worship.

This reminds me of another group of people through whom great things happened—the believers in the early church.

“All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had. With great power the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. And God’s grace was so powerfully at work in them all that there were no needy persons among them.” (Acts 4:32-34, emphasis mine)

I’m not sure if God intended this type of living for a time or for forever, but having seen this passage come to life in Haiti and on past mission trips, there is something deeply right about it.

The heart of the gospel is communion and community. We were created to be in relationship with God and in relationship with one another--and to use those relationships to bring glory to our Creator.

In Haiti being of “one heart and mind,” “sharing everything we had” and living with Godly purpose was easy. Our time was set aside, our needs provided for and our days scheduled. But now that I’m home, regaining even a fraction of this way of living is incredibly difficult.

Schedules, responsibilities, me-time and the realities of everyday life have quickly taken over. I find I go from day to day just trying to keep all the balls in the air. I have a very good life and much of what I do is “important.” Yet, I can’t help but wonder if somewhere along the way of living this American life—of gathering, maintaining and planning for the future—that I’ve (we’ve) taken a seriously wrong turn.

Self-sufficiency leads to isolation. Materialism sucks up time and resources. Our plans overshadow God’s plans. Inter-dependence, generosity, unity and submission are NOT our natural inclinations. But they weren’t for the early believers either and somehow they chose differently.

And look how the Spirit moved through them.

Experiencing community on these mission trips has opened my eyes to a new way of living. I have more questions than answers, but of this I am certain—rich or poor, man or woman, introvert or extrovert—we are indeed better together.

To my Haiti family--Cindy, Kathy, Helen, Sue, Bob, Jim, Christine, Jane, Regina, Annie, Marcus, Paul, Gregg, Kate Lynn, Erica, Dan, John, Valentin, Jon, Andrea, Jeff, Jean, Dessaline, Henery, Roodson, Jude, Francois, Lucsom, Lovely, Eben, Wesley, Jonas, Beniel, Augusto, Ezekiel and the many others whose names I’ve left out—thank you for sharing the journey with me and for showing me the better way.

Laptops, Frustration and a Fish Story

2011-04-08T07:45:00.035-04:00

I finally joined the "cool" crowd and purchased a laptop--my first ever. I've taken to carrying it with me everywhere...around the house...to meetings...I've even spent a couple afternoons working at Starbucks. I feel so relevant! (Who cares that I'm years behind.) My joy has quickly turned to frustration as the laptop has developed a nasty habit of crashing and freezing up several times a day. I finally called tech support and they discovered that a fatal flaw exists in the OS. Good news for the computer, but bad news for me. Since the laptop will be reformatted all the hours (days) I spent setting up the computer have been wasted and need to be done all over again! I love technology when it works, but when it doesn't...@*%$&^!@#*%$!

I'm trying to get "them" (aka, Dell) to send a tech to come to my house and take care of it all. I pushed the issue with the tech person and tossed around words like "loyal customer," "unacceptable" and the grand daddy of customer service complaints: "I want to escalate." I received sympathy, but the reply was, "We can't send someone. You can call and they'll walk you through the steps."

*Argh!* I KNOW the steps, I just don't want to DO them again! Am I being unreasonable?

Sorry. Instead of a fresh, inspiring post this week you get a mini-rant. I guess I'll try for two entries next week.

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Today I have this devotion featured at Internet Cafe Devotions. Grab a cup of coffee and join me over there. Hope to see you at the Cafe!

A Fish Story

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.” (Matthew 25:35-36)

Outside my kitchen is a small fish pond. Years ago we turned an overlooked corner into a cozy landscaped nook. Now my family enjoys peeking out the windows to watch the fish and listening to the trickling of the fountain. It’s surprising how much joy this spot brings us.

But once in a while, the pond needs some TLC. One summer afternoon, the pond was overgrown with algae and I couldn’t see the fish in the murky water. Clearly, they needed help. I decided it was time for an extreme pond makeover.

I emptied the pond, scrubbed the gunk off the walls and filter, added some decorative features and filled the pond with fresh, clear water. Patting myself on my back for a job well done, I re-introduced the fish to their sparkling new home.

The next day, I went back to admire my makeover. But instead of finding the fish swimming happily, I found them floating on the surface. [Read more...]

Thirst

2011-04-01T08:20:00.003-04:00

This is the second entry on my series on Haiti. Bondye beni ou...God bless you.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” Matthew 5:6

For much of the year Haiti is a dry, dusty place. The sun bakes the hard packed earth and a breeze blows clouds of dust across open spaces. Even though it has many lakes and is surrounded by the ocean on three sides, Haiti feels more like a desert than a tropical island.

At least it did when I was there.

On our worksite, which was a large open plot of land our primary task was to dig foundation trenches for the vocational school. We used pick axes to break up the rock solid earth and shoveled out the loose dirt. With each tossed shovelful of dirt, the breeze carried a cloud of dust, covering all in its path. We quickly learned to stand upwind, but still we ended each day covered in dirt and dust. I flossed my teeth one night and even found dust between my teeth!

Parched land leads to parched people.

As our team spent entire days working in the hot sun, our mantra to one another became, “Take a break and get a drink.” How we savored those breaks to fill up our water bottles for much needed refreshment.

But for Haitians water isn’t always a blessing. The source of life is often a source of disease and even death as water often carries bacteria, parasites—and recently cholera. Few have easy access to clean water.

Less than one-quarter of urban Haitians have tap water in their homes. Folks in rural communities gather rain water in cisterns or travel miles to fetch (often polluted) water. A family might have to make one large bucket of water cover all their needs—cooking, drinking and washing--for days.

I have no experience with this kind of scarcity.

At one worship service we attended, members of the church brought in a cooler and gave each of us Americans a cold bottle of water to drink. We thankfully, but reluctantly accepted their gift of love and sacrifice knowing that our hosts needed that water far more than we did.

A few children sat on the laps of our team members during the service and watched the water distribution with great interest. After a sip or two for themselves, most from our team shared their water with the kids. I watched as one little girl tipped the bottle to her lips and emptied its contents with one long, enthusiastic gulp.

The people of Haiti are indeed thirsty. And not just for water.

Thankfully Jesus knows a thing or two about thirst because the folks we worshipped and worked with have parched spirits. As that little girl gulped from the water bottle, their spirits thirst for the Living Water that only Jesus provides. They worship with freedom, eagerness and enthusiasm. The overflow from their hearts poured onto us and quenched a thirst in each of us that we didn’t even realize we had.

“Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:13-14)

How remarkable that while our team went to Haiti to help meet physical needs, God allowed our spiritual needs to be satisfied far more profoundly.

Building water purification facilities and digging wells are some of the greatest ways we can care for and love our brothers and sisters in impoverished countries, but offering them—and receiving for ourselves—the living water that Jesus offers is the most precious gift there is.
Is your spirit parched? Are you drinking from the well the world offers and feeling dissatisfied? Have you met Jesus at the well and discovered His living water? Does it overflow from your life onto others?

We don't have to travel to poor countries to find people who are dying of thirst. Our mission field is outside our front door.

Lord, give me a thirst for You--To experience You. To know you. To love you. To worship you. Fill me to overflowing so that your life-giving water flows into the lives of others.

Haiti has been so severely deforested in the last few decades that rain runoff causes extreme erosion.

Taking a much-needed water break in the shade

A little girl going to fetch water. (She's not even wearing shoes.)

Receiving the Living Water at a powerful worship service

One of several pump wells in Camp Hope

Lake Sumatra, one of Haiti's largest lakes, is said to have cholera in it.

Follow

2011-03-23T08:54:00.001-04:00

This is the first installment of a ten-part series on my trip to Haiti—the things witnessed, the relationships formed and the experiences shared. And how God revealed His glory through it all.

“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” At once they left their nets and followed him.” (Matthew 4:19-20)

Of the four mission trips I’ve been on, the “roster” for this one was the most unsettled. Our team continually fluctuated as folks signed up, cancelled, re-registered and added on at the last minute. Plans changed. Minds changed. Circumstances changed. I didn’t know who or how many people would end up in Haiti.

Thankfully Bob, our leader, remained flexible through the flux because by the end of the trip I saw how God had specifically called each person to be there—in His own timing and for His own purpose.

How remarkable that out of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people who heard testimonies by or received personal invitations from former Haiti missionaries, this exact group of 18 ended up together in Haiti. Certainly divine guidance played a role, but each of us also had one important thing in common—our willingness to say “yes” to that guidance.

That “yes” required letting go—of time, money, comfort, convenience and more. Many received criticism and questioning about their decision to go. Yet each of us persisted and knowingly made sacrifices. Sacrifices like:

… saying goodbye to sad children (and spouses) who didn’t want us to go away for ten days.

… traveling to a place that might be unsafe and dangerous.

… leaving behind the comforts and conveniences of home.

… missing important family activities.

… trading in vacation time and money.

… having no idea what we were getting ourselves into.

… setting aside business opportunities and possibly losing income.

… going even though we felt completely unqualified.

But doesn’t Jesus ask for personal sacrifice—and a bold response—from His disciples?

In Matthew 4:19-22, Jesus walked along the Sea of Galilee and called out to Andrew and Peter as they fished, “Come, follow me, and I will send you out to fish for people.”

“At once they left their nets and followed him.” James and John respond the same way: “immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.”

Let the disciples' response sink in. Their boldness is truly remarkable.

Jesus didn’t tell them where they’d be going. He didn’t give them time to make a decision. And He wasn’t clear on what they’d be doing (because “fishing for men” doesn’t make sense).

And the disciples didn’t offer any qualifications for their calling. They had no religious pedigree, advanced education or prior experience. Truly, it seems their only credential was their willingness to say, “Yes.”

How easy it would have been to say, “No.” Or, “Not now.” Or, “Let me think about it.” To have considered calendars, comfort, commitments, convenience or common sense in making a decision. Surprisingly the disciples didn’t do that. They dropped what they were doing, left their work and their families, and followed Jesus.

Perhaps a few family or friends supported their decision, but somehow I doubt it. In fact, I bet plenty of folks said they were crazy!

But just as Jesus invited the disciples, He invites us: “Come, follow me.”

We cannot be a follower of Jesus if we’re not willing to actually follow. If we’re not willing to set down our “nets”—our work, families, fears, plans and expectations. To boldly step out of our comfort zones.To say, "Yes."

To follow Jesus we have to move—from where we are, to where He is. Wherever that may be.

Saying "yes" to Haiti was a bold step, but I want to live with this same willingness to follow in my day-to-day. Even still I cling to comfort. I cherish convenience. I applaud common sense. And I crave control. Yet with each “yes” to follow Him to places like Haiti, I let go a little more. And in the letting go there’s a finding that initially frightens but ultimately frees and fills.

One of my friends took a LONG time to say “yes” to Haiti. In the end she said, “God put a call on my heart that was so strong I just had to follow.”

Where is Christ calling you to follow Him? What is keeping you from setting down your nets and taking bold—and obedient—step just like the disciples…just like my friend…and following Him?

Sunrise from the roof.

Mountains upon mountains. With people living in poverty.

Rural houses

Camp Hope

Following up the mountain to Balizaj

Down from the Mountain

2011-03-17T10:20:00.000-04:00

Wow! It’s been a busy week and a half since coming home from Haiti. My bags are finally unpacked, my blisters are healed and my tan is fading. But, my heart is still bubbling over with love and joy from our trip. What God did in and through us during those ten days is incredible.

I can’t stop thinking about Haiti. Or Jude. Or my other Haitian friends. Or our team. I miss them all so much and have spent a lot of time on Facebook looking at pictures—remembering and reliving.

Last night I shared the message in prison on Haiti. (This is a major step of faith because I’ve never done this before.) It was such a blessing to share even though I had to leave out so much because of time limits. The men seemed truly engaged in my stories. I loved that I could tie my experiences in Haiti, to our experiences worshipping together in the prison chapel…and how connected we are as brothers and sisters in Christ, members of the same family…and how the God I experienced in Haiti is the same God we can experience here at home. Readily available to all who seek Him.

This touches on a fear I have…that my (and our teams’) stories make it seem like unless you travel to a place like Haiti…or Africa…or some remote village that you can’t experience God in profound and powerful ways. Without a doubt, our time in Haiti was remarkable and special, but the Spirit of God is freely available to all people, in all places at all times. No matter where we are, Jesus invites us to follow Him. I think that our intimate experience with God is more about being willing to “go there” with the Lord, to step out of our comfort zones on faith—and to be open to receiving what He has to offer.

As much as Haiti was a mountaintop experience that I want to stay on/in forever, I know that’s not the Lord’s desire. Even after the disciples had their own mountaintop experience with Jesus during the transfiguration, Jesus quickly led them back down the mountain into the valley—even though they wanted to pitch tents and stay awhile.

The mountaintop is for spiritual refueling. Refocusing. Renewing. The valley is for living. So I am learning to live in the valley. Looking to see how God wants to use me, redirect me and change me from Haiti.

I said that I planned to do a series on Haiti and I will. This week I spent so much time putting together my message for the prison that I didn’t have any time for “recreational” writing. I planned to start today but since this post is already getting long I think I’ll wait until the beginning of next week to start. I know you’ll be waiting expectantly until then!

In the meantime, can I ask you to pray for everyone from our team that they continue to follow the call God placed in their hearts in Haiti. For some He’s wooing them back to Him. For others He is calling to a new phase on their walk with the Lord. For others He’s healing and restoring and repurposing.

On a side note…please pray for me! My sweet little girl turned 16 on Tuesday. And the day brought with it the thing that many a 16-year-old dreams about—a driving permit. While I am so happy for her to take this next big step in growing up, I am scared to death.

Dan and I are teaching how to drive my stick shift VW bug, which no doubt makes learning to drive MUCH harder. Yesterday, during our training session, I think I pulled the emergency brake four times! I’m not sure who is more nervous…my daughter or I. At this rate she should be ready for the open road by the time she’s 18!

Bondye beni ou! (God bless you)
…and toujou lave men ou avan manje ou (always wash your hands before you eat.)

A woman walking on the "main road" up the mountain to her village

A family we met on the hike up to Balizaj.

The gorgeous beach we went to for some well-deserved rest.


My sweet, crazy, singing, dancing, Jesus-loving roommate. I miss you CC!

Pastor Valentin and our awesome group from Woodside!

Knock, Knock

2011-03-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

I'm writing at Internet Cafe Devotions today. I hope you read on and join me over there. I'm still pondering my "Haiti series" and hope to start posting next week. Stay tuned...

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.
(Revelation 3:20)

If it’s true that a front door is a home’s smile, then mine is frowning. Dull, dinged and drafty, my door has seen better days. My husband and I decided it was time for a new one.

Hooray! I cheered and embraced the search process. I scoured the internet, pored over catalogs and talked with sales people. We talked to friends and examined every front door in our neighborhood.

Still I’m even further from making a decision than when I started. Who knew there were so many choices? Solid or glass? Elegant or understated? Steel or fiberglass? Double door or single with sidelites? Dark or light color? I have made up and changed my mind dozens of times.

My husband has patiently listened to my many door iterations. But last week when I presented my latest idea—and then changed my mind the next day—he jumped off my crazy train called indecision.

“I thought we’d made a decision,” he sighed.

“I don’t know. I’m still not sure.”

Not that I know what I’m looking for, but I know I need a vision to move forward. It’s just the way I am. Plus this really is a big decision. A front door is expensive and it sets the tone for what’s inside. It’s where your home puts its best foot forward. And I don’t want to misstep.

A while back I was a newer Christian and everyone was buzzing about finding their purpose—the thing that God had put them on earth for.

“What’s your purpose?” others asked.

“Uhh, I don’t know,” I replied.

Honestly I don’t think I’d ever seriously considered the question before. But, since I was committed to growing as a Christian I figured I should put “finding a purpose” at the top of my to-do list. [Read more...]

We're Back

2011-03-08T09:35:00.000-05:00

"They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe … All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need … Every day they continued to meet together … They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts … And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved." (Acts 2:42-47)

As I wrote on my Facebook wall: Back from Haiti. What an awesome trip! What an awesome team! How can it be that when I leave my life of comfort and plenty and go to a country of hardship and want, my heart fills to overflowing? God is so good.

To say it was a great trip is an understatement. I left apprehensive about the situation in Haiti, unsure about what we'd actually be doing, and questioning whether this was really where God was calling me to. I returned awed and amazed at our almighty God who's orchestration, protection and provision defined this trip completely.

This trip to Haiti was one of the most incredible experiences of my life, and certainly the most impactful mission trip I've taken. Even though friends have asked what made this trip so special, it's hard to find the words to adequately express what's been imprinted on my heart and spirit. I'll try to paint a broad overview. (In the days to come I'll be working on a series of more detailed stories.)

Our ten days followed a mission trip model set up by the Foundation for Peace. It included five days on the work site, a medical activity day, three worship services with local churches, two VBS's and one (much-deserved) beach day.

Our team of 18 came from coast to coast (PA, NJ, MA, RI and CA), including six from my church. We'd all never met before. (I didn't even know most of the folks from my church very well.) We ranged in age from 20's to 60's and brought with us a wide range of talents, faith journeys and life experiences. The way that God weaved these disparate strands together as a team—unified, and singular in heart and purpose—was a beautiful display of His craftsmanship and creativity.

One incredible team

We spent every waking hour together. We toiled together—working harder than many of us had ever worked before. We praised God together in morning devotions, frequent prayer, enthusiastic Haitian worship and late night singing. We talked, ate, hung out, recreated, rode the bus together. And no one tired of anyone's presence. No one got on anyone's nerves. When one was weary, another came alongside to lift up. We became attuned to one another's needs and gave from our excess. It was community in the most wonderful sense of the word. And we all recognized it as something extraordinary.

Group back rubs

The work we did was hard. It basically consisted of digging trenches for a vocational school. Lots and lots of trenches (each about 2 feet wide by about 4.5 feet deep). Working with our Haitian friends, we used pick axes to break up the hard packed, arid soil. Then we shoveled out the loose dirt. This task pushed every one of us to—and past—our physical limits. Yet, we pressed on, determined to make our mark, knowing that this school represents the future of Haiti in this part of the country.

There's much more to tell...and I will...but the most meaningful experience for me was visiting Camp Hope (the camp I worked in after the earthquake). God really moved in me when I was there last year. Our group had made friends and I was anxious to see them again. But the person I most wanted to see was Jude, the teenage boy I worked with and befriended last year. There's something special about Jude. And even though we don't speak the same language, our hearts are connected. I've kept tabs on Jude as my friends have traveled to Haiti in the past year and knew he was OK. But I was dying to see him again.

We first arrived at Camp Hope on Friday to visit the school (that FFP built last year). I looked for Jude in the classrooms and found him quickly. When Jude spotted me standing in the doorway of his small classroom his face lit up with excitement and he jumped out of his seat to see me. We hugged for what seemed like a minute. It was a precious moment filled with such love that I could have left Haiti right then, satisfied.

There is so much more to tell...our day of worship, visiting, VBS and soccer at Camp Hope...our "50-minute" hike up the mountain to distribute aqua-tabs to people in a remote village...a relaxing day at the beach to restore our weary bodies...the worship services at local church...early morning devotions on the rooftop...the family we formed, Haitian and America, bonded together for all of eternity...and so much more.

There is something about Haiti that's so special. I see God there in the people and the country. I feel His presence in the worship. And I find rest in my spirit that is so absent as home.

Thank you for your prayers for our trip. They were most definitely answered. I am so thankful for the experience and hope our ten days in Haiti planted seed that will bear fruit for a long time to come. I pray that all we encountered, and all of us Americans, are forever changed—because in Haiti we met Jesus.

Hope in a Hopeless World

2011-02-15T07:19:00.010-05:00

Today on Valentine's Day most of my heart is with my sweeties here at home, but part of it is where I left it last year—in Haiti.

We all know the story of the earthquake…the worst natural disaster to cripple any single country…At least a quarter million Haitians died…Entire families were killed in moments…Over a million people became homeless.

We remember how the world responded with compassion and pledged donations. Relief workers flooded the country. Medical treatment, food and necessities were given to those most in need. Hope started to spring out of the dusty, shaken earth.

But today, a year later, little has changed in Haiti. Only a small percentage of the earthquake debris has been removed. 1.5 million Haitians still live in tents. Basics like food, water and medical care are in short supply. The government is a mess. Donated supplies are held up in red tape. Peace is tenuous. Even a never-before-experienced cholera epidemic has ravaged the fragile population.

Haiti is broken. Many say it's so broken that lasting change is hopeless.

Last month marked the one year anniversary of the earthquake and little was said of it. What was continuing front page news a year ago has been forgotten. Excitement and emotions have settled down. Our thought are on Tucson, Eqypt, Washington DC, Hollywood and what's in our own backyards. Far from the quagmire of Haiti.

The need remains overwhelming. But many charitable groups still work faithfully in Haiti—away from the spotlight—delivering food, clean water, medical care and education. Their efforts unreported and their successes rarely front page stories.

At the end of the month I'm going back to Haiti and the area our mission groups worked last year. Reception from others toward this year's trip has been less enthusiastic. Some people ask, "Why?" Others say, "It's too dangerous" and "it won't do any good." Much is left unspoken.

So, why am I going back?

Because last year when I went to Haiti, weeks after the earthquake, the trip changed me. I didn't experience Haiti "the country"—devastated and hopeless. I experienced Haiti "the people"—struck down but now destroyed. Shattered but persevering. Filled with sorrow, but choosing joy. Praising God, not cursing Him.

We worked and laughed and prayed together. We played soccer and colored and worshipped together. Through incredible brokenness God revealed His unbreakable Spirit. He opened my heart and eyes to the people in Haiti. God seemed to do this with everyone who went there.

Yes, the big picture of Haiti is dismal and discouraging. But look closer and you'll see the faces of men and women, sons and daughter. Real people with names and dignity and hope for the future. People not that different from you and me. Jesus asked us to be His hands and feet: "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." (Matthew 25:40)

God showed me the "least of these" in Haiti.

In ten days a group of 15 of us will travel to Haiti to work, once again, with the Foundation for Peace. (Click the link to read about the wonderful things FFP has been doing ever since the earthquake.)

We'll work away from the devastation of Port-au-Prince in Fond Parisien, near the Dominican border. We'll start building a school on land donated by the local government. We'll visit Camp Hope (where our mission teams worked last year). We'll conduct vacation Bible schools for the children. We'll deliver aqua-tabs for cholera prevention. We'll worship, recreate and build relationships. Most of all we'll experience the abundant blessings our almighty and awesome God.

With the unrest surrounding Haiti, I wasn't sure that this trip would happen. But now things look good and I'm finally allowing myself to get excited

Fundraising has been a big part of all our family's mission trips. This time I got creative and have been offering digital photography and computer training which has been a lot of fun. (I'll keep this up throughout the year, so if you're local and need help, let me know.) I've also received a few donations. But, I haven't reached my goal yet. If you feel led to donate to this trip I certainly appreciate it. Click the button to make a donation.

God is bigger than earthquakes, bigger than disease, bigger than poverty and bigger than our expectations. He doesn't need us to do the work for Him, but He wants to involve us in the process.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'" (Jeremiah 29:11-13)

Here's the school at Camp Hope in Fond Parisien that money from our church helped to build.

Mirror, Mirror

2011-02-03T06:43:00.002-05:00

“One year, 365 photos.”

The headline caught my attention. The article featured a teenage girl who made—and kept—her 2010 resolution to take one picture every day and post it on Facebook. I wanted to see what she had to “say” through her photos and what she discovered along the way.

Her pictures were interesting. They explored lighting and experimented with technique. Then I noticed something odd. The photographer featured herself in every picture. Every one.

I nudged my husband, who was lost in the sports section, “Look at this. She’s the topic of every photo. In one year you’d think she would’ve looked past herself to view the world around her? That’s what’s wrong with this generation! They’re so in love with themselves!”

In reality teenagers have long been self-absorbed and narcissistic (recall the poster child, Narcissus). Psychologists say it’s developmental. But in the “good old days” us teens wrote in our diaries, expressed ourselves on our bedroom walls and talked on the phone with our best friends for hours. Our self-absorption just wasn’t available for public consumption.

Now in the age of Facebook, Twitter, blogs and such, navel gazing (omphaloskepsis as it’s formally called) has gone digital. A ready audience—literally the entire world—awaits, and no thought is too personal or too mundane to share.

And it’s not just young people. Forty-five percent of Facebook’s 45 million active users in the U.S. is 26 years old or older; women over 55 represent one of its fastest growing segments. In 2009 there were over 200,000,000 blogs (yes, million), and there are even more today. The number of Twitter users is growing exponentially.

“Look at me!” we proclaim loudly and frequently. (Yes, I know I've done plenty of navel-gazing on these very pages.)

Yet, in this status-updating, tweeting, blogging, posting, wall-writing frenzy has our quest for self-expression/-exploration/-promotion/-adoration rebirthed our inner teenager? Have we become a culture of attention-seekers in love with our reflection?

As if reading my thoughts, on Sunday our pastor preached, “One of Satan’s greatest tricks is not only to put up a wall between you and God, but to put a mirror on your side of the wall—to get you to look at yourself.” Wow! We've been making the enemy's job really easy!

Our pastor continued, “Humility means smashing that mirror and looking to the One you’re following—which is Jesus.”

Humility? Now there’s an outdated concept. In our culture it’s hard to even know what humility means…or looks like. Yet, as Jesus-followers our ongoing challenge is to live in the world, but not of the world. So we need to figure it out.

In the end, I can read the papers, observe the world and offer commentary on it all, but it really comes down to me and God—and my own mirror. Will I proudly gaze with fondness on my own glory or will I humbly turn the mirror to magnify His?

At the end of the year, will it be 365 Days of Me? Or 365 Days of Thee?

What’s your choice?

“Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice…Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind… Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment…” (Romans 12:1-3)

"Why?"

2011-02-01T06:17:00.002-05:00

Today I'm writing at Internet Cafe Devotions. Won't you grab a cup of coffee and join me there?

“Though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand. But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear.” (Matthew 13:13,16)

For most of my adult life I had an approach-avoidance relationship with Jesus. Nine years ago my husband and I took a course at the church we casually attended— a 10-week introduction to Christianity called Alpha. At the beginning of Alpha I was a skeptical seeker. By the end of the course I was an on-fire Christian who finally “got it.” To say Alpha launched my faith life (and my husband’s too) is an understatement.

Now I help to run Alpha at my church and have made many friends who have had similar experiences. Alpha answered our questions, ignited our faith and connected us to other believers in lasting relationships.

We’re organizing this year’s course which begins in a few weeks. But, interest is not as robust as we hoped. Believe me it’s not for our lack of trying. I scratch my head and ask, “Why?” Why aren’t folks registering in droves—when we believe so passionately in this program? Why don’t those with doubts and questions want to explore answers? Why don’t others want to commit ten Sunday evenings to a program that could likely change their lives?

My most thoughtful and fully-formed answer is, “I don’t know.”

I’ve been asking questions like these for a while. And not just with Alpha—but with all the ministries I'm involved with. I’m impatient to see results. I expect my efforts will bear fruit and I feel frustrated when they don’t. I wonder, “Why?”

Why do some have ears that “hear,” but others appear deaf?
Why does the word of God inspire some to respond radically, but leaves many indifferent, defiant or even hostile?
Why do some Christians visibly grow spiritually while others seem to remain the same?

It is Finished...finally

2011-01-26T07:46:00.000-05:00

The supplies have been put away. The mess is all cleaned up. The accessories have been purchased. And order in the house has been restored. Our powder room renovation is officially— and finally—finished.

It took much longer than expected, but I'm so happy with the results. Especially since the vision I had in my mind's eye turned out even better in reality. (That certainly isn't always the case!)

This wasn't a "fun" project but it was certainly satisfying. And besides saving a lot of money by going DIY, I got some good spiritual insights in the process. Maybe I'll write about them one of these days—perhaps while sitting on the floor of bathroom. As it is, I stop in many times a day to enjoy the ambiance. (Now instead of looking for me at my computer, my kids first check the bathroom! :-)

I thought I'd share the results so you can see for yourself. (The room is so small and hard to photograph but hopefully you'll get the idea.) Or stop by for a visit and see for yourself.

Remember the before:

Here's the after:

The final touch will be framed pictures from our backpacking trip to the Grand Canyon. Then it will truly be complete.

What projects are on your mind for 2011?

In With the Old

2011-01-13T07:39:00.002-05:00

Thanks for sharing my pain, progress and pictures of my half-bathroom remodel. The project continues forward, slowly. I can't wait to share the final results!

In my last post I talked about tossing out the old to embrace the new. Today in my post at Internet Cafe Devotions I discovered that doing the exact opposite action holds far more value.

“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” (Philippians 3:12, NIV)

New year. New beginnings. New resolutions.

As the sun rises on 2011, most of us take inventory of our lives and look at the new year as a chance to hit the reset button. We hope to make a fresh start, change directions, try new things or “get it right” this time. Sometimes we hope that after a long December, maybe this year will be better than the last. (Thank you, Counting Crows.)

Ever since I became a Christian eight years ago, God’s brought me into exciting experiences. Each year I’ve watched my faith grow exponentially as God’s prodded me to go further. To be adventurous. To use my talents and heart for His glory. And He’s led me into many ministries in my life: Bible study leading, writing, mission trips, prison ministry and more. He’s even taken hold of my creative and technical skills. I felt certain that something BIG was on the horizon.

But nothing big has come to pass and the thrill is fading. The “same old, same old” is setting in. And I’m getting a little weary.

It seems my honeymoon with God is over. <<Read more...>>

Out With the Old

2011-01-10T12:58:00.001-05:00

As the lights faded on 2010, I fell into a rabbit hole and have only just emerged to discover an entire week has passed in the new year. Perhaps I took the saying, “out with old” a bit too literally.

Somewhere between Christmas and New Years’ I got a wild hair about renovating our downstairs powder room. Not a fresh coat of paint and a some new towels, mind you, but a total floor to ceiling renovation.

In all fairness to me, I’d been marinating this idea for a few years—planning the look, and waiting for the right time and finances to make it happen. And it seemed the time to do it was NOW!

Dan, having been married to me for 20 years, recognized the signs of my fever and headed for cover. “As long as we can pay for this, then go for it.” We agreed on a budget and I was off.

I spent hours searching online for a sink, faucet, lights and a vanity. I made countless trips to Lowe’s and Home Depot. I had grand plans for this small space and wanted to make it just right.

Soon I was scraping off the wall paper border, patching holes and prepping the walls and the project was officially under way. I figured a few good days of work would see it to completion.

Twelve days later I’m still at it. Yesterday while grouting the wall tiles I neared tears. Will this project ever end!

The good news is that I can see the finish line in the distance. The better news is that it’s going to look fantastic. Today I’m taking a break and spending time on the computer…for the first time since before Christmas! Ahhhh! I’ve missed you, my friend!

So there’s no deep insights today, but a glimpse of my current WIP.

Before:

It was a fine bathroom—out-of-date and rather boring, but in good condition.

After:

The inspiration for the room is the Southwest—red rocks, copper, rugged, desert, natural beauty. A part of Dan and my hearts and souls lives out west. Since we can’t live there now, I want to bring the feeling here to our home in the Northeast.

Walls: On the top half of the walls, I decided to do a Venetian Plaster in a terra cotta color (Behr Venetian Plaster, pompeii). This process alone took three days (three coats followed by sanding).

To add even more interest to the walls I sponged on/off metallic copper glaze and added two coats of ragged on/off metallic gold glaze (Ralph Lauren metallics). The result looks like aged, distressed copper with a touch of leather. They have a shimmer, great depth and lots of character. A photograph doesn't do them justice!

I also wired a new light switch (with a dimmer), installed a GFCI outlet and put in new lights.

Trim, painted dark brown with a copper glaze, will finish the top of the wall.

Vanity: After an extensive online search, my sister and I discovered this piece in an extremely cool furniture store—and on a great sale. It's officially a telephone table. I shortened the legs and it will be the table for the glass vessel sink (which in itself is a work of art!).

Walls, cont'd: On the bottom half of the walls I used 6x6 natural slate tiles. They come in a variety of colors and are irregularly shaped. This made tiling straight lines especially fun. The laser level and I became good friends.

Even though the space is small, this process took a couple days.

Setting the last slate tile!

Floors: With so much going on in a small space, I wanted the floors to be nice, but subdued. The 12x12 ceramic tiles remind me of desert sand. After installing Hardi-board this job was pretty easy except for the cuts around the plumbing.

There have been plenty of other steps along the way but these are the highlights. Next up is to finish grouting the walls and the floors...which is the never-ending process that's making me want to cry! I'm giving it a break for a couple days. But after that, the plumbing can be installed (I don't do that) and trim put up. Then the job will be nearly finished. If the project doesn't kill me before then, stay tuned for pictures of the finished product.

It's great to be out of the rabbit hole for a while. Thanks for listening. I think next up for my 2011 is to curl up with a good book...right on the floor of my new bathroom!

That's been my new year so far. What have you been up to?

The Nativity Story: A Digital Retelling

2010-12-18T18:01:00.003-05:00

I just received this from a friend and thought it was so clever that I had to share.
Have a Merry (Digital) Christmas!

To Tree? . . . Or Not to Tree?

2010-12-15T09:36:00.000-05:00

Trouble’s brewing in my family.

It started in November when my mom declared she wasn’t putting up a Christmas tree this year.

“What?! No tree?” I stammered. “But why?!”

In my shock and dismay all I recall is, “Because, blah blah blah, time involved, blah blah blah, getting older, blah blah blah, Christmas.”

For weeks I’ve tried whining/coaxing/coercing/guilting my mom into changing her mind. (Very adolescent of me, I know.) I’ll give her points for consistency—she’s not budging: “I’ll decorate the house, but I’m not putting up a tree.”

Her decision would perplex—but not bother—me if we weren’t planning to spend Christmas day at my parents’ house. Perhaps I’ve carried on a bit too much because my exasperated mother finally said to me, “You of all people know that Christmas isn’t about a tree!”

Ouch! More points for Mom.

Introspective as always, I pondered why I’m so disturbed by her lack of a Christmas tree.

As I lay on the metaphorical therapist's couch, my inner shrink probed, "Tell me about your childhood."

A memory triggered of a Christmas we spent in Florida when I was about 13. It's not-so-affectionately been named the Worst Christmas Ever (WCE for short). My family and I drove 20-some grueling hours from New Jersey straight through to Boca Raton (which in itself is a traumatic memory) and arrived at my grandfather’s house exhausted but excited.

“Where’s the Christmas tree?” my sister and I asked as we looked around the small house—as if it one had to search hard to find a large evergreen covered in decorations and bright lights.

“It’s out there on the patio,” my grandfather’s wife Minnette said.

My sister and I ran to investigate. And, there it was—a citrus tree strung with white lights. No decorations, no tinsel, no star on top. In a room that technically wasn't even part of the house. We were crestfallen.

“No Christmas tree?!” my sister and I stared at each other in disbelief.

It didn’t help our already battered Christmas spirit when moments after opening gifts on Christmas morning, Minnette announced, “OK kids, pick up your presents and put them away. Company’s coming.”

I still feel the sting of the Christmas that wasn’t. (Although, in all fairness to Minnette, she was Jewish).

The other day my sister and I talked on the phone about Christmas plans and commiserated about my parents’ lack of a Christmas tree.

“It’s like Christmas in Boca,” she said. Turns out I’m not the only one who still feels the sting.

So, is Christmas really Christmas without a tree? (Or decorations or carols or cookies?)

That’s when I had a revelation—which was probably more a stating of the obvious than a deep insight. Understand, I love Jesus and I’m excited about his birth. I’m truly filled with awe and wonder that God sent Jesus as He did—every day of the year. But Christmas as I know it IS about more than the baby in the manger.

It’s an emotional touch point of my year. A cozy blanket of memories I snuggle into. A binding of family and friends. A revisiting of old traditions and making of new ones. It’s not so much about the presents, but the experiences.

Experiences set on a backdrop of Christmas decorations and twinkly lights, music and mistletoe, candles and cookies. And the center of it all is a Christmas tree. Our Christmas tree.

Since before we were married, Dan and I have collected ornaments from our various travels. As we unpack them each year, we unpack two decades of memories. Of life lived well. Our tree is the story of us—first two, then three, now four. We choose "to tree" with enthusiasm.

But, my parents are entering a new phase of their lives. It's likely they'll make more "cut backs" that will upset my traditional expectations. Maybe one day, Dan and I will choose to scale down Christmas or (gasp!) even forgo a tree.

For now, while I'm disappointed I'm not such a fool as to think we're heading toward WCE: The Sequel. Christmas in New Jersey (at my parents') will be nothing like Christmas in Boca. It will be festive and beautiful and lingering—and Jesus-focused. And no matter what emotional attachments I have toward the "props" of Christmas, I realize it's our being together that will make Christmas joyful.

Tree or no tree.

It's beginning to look a lot . . .

2010-12-08T07:32:00.027-05:00

Every year, it seems, the days go faster and faster. The seasons turn one into the other—from barrenness to fullness and back again. I find myself trying to catch the sands of time and stuff them back into the hourglass. To no avail.

While this year I eagerly welcomed the coolness of fall after a blistering summer that overstayed its welcome, it seems that just last weekend we celebrated Labor Day at the pool with our friends. How did we get from back-to-school to apple picking to Halloween to Thanksgiving in record time? And when did Halloween (a holiday of demons, monsters, fear and dental nightmares) manage to garner so much attention and hoopla? While every year poor Thanksgiving has to fight harder and harder just to get noticed: I feel it wanting to yell, "C'mon people! Just one day of thankfulness is all I ask. One day!"

Yet, no sooner do we push back from our collective tables stuffed with turkey, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie, than the gun sounds and we're off—rushing headlong into Christmas.

By the time my family and I got home from our Thanksgiving weekend at Grandma's I felt like I was already behind. "Only 29 days until Christmas," my inner elf proclaimed. "There's so much to do, decorate, buy, bake, wrap and make merry."

"But, I don't even 'feel' like it's Christmas." I complained.

"That doesn't matter. Time's a wasting. Get busy." He/she replied

"Wait a second!" I countered. "First of all, I don't think elves are that bossy. And second, I'm not heading down that path anymore. I learned two words in the last few years that have helped me get off the treadmill of Christmas crazy—simplify and refocus. I don't care if everyone around me is freaking and stressing out, I'm not going there!"

"Scrooge!" My inner elf accused.

You see I've finally figured out, to the depths of my being, that while the "extras" do make Christmas bright and beautiful, they're the icing on a marvelous and spectacular Christmas cake.

And the Christmas cake without a doubt is a baby. And not just any baby, THE baby.

The God of the universe, set aside His majesty and power to send his only son as a little baby. Born not in a castle to royalty, but to a teenage mom and a blue-collar worker…in a smelly barn…without fanfare or pageantry.

No matter how hard I try to understand, it doesn't make sense. And yet this happened exactly as God decided it should. His perfect plan—thousands of years in the waiting—perfectly fulfilled as God intended. In Jesus. Light of the world. Emmanuel. God with us.

But why?

Because "God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." (John 3:16-17)

We make Christmas so complicated and stress-filled. Was that really God's intention when He sent His son? The words of John 3:16 remind us of how simple, yet how profoundly life-changing God's gift is.

While I have decorated for Christmas, and it's beginning to feel a bit like Christmas, when I pause to ponder the baby in a manger it's then I'm filled with awe and wonder and amazement. A little gift that changed us, changed me, forever. Christmases come and go, but the wonder of Emmanuel—God with us—is never out of season.

Two years ago Advent Conspiracy (adventconspiracy.org) and their original video totally changed my outlook on Christmas. Here's their updated version.

Worth Fighting For

2010-11-29T06:14:00.002-05:00

It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’ve missed it. I’ve been busy with this …and this … and that. And in the process I’ve gotten out of the habit and have moved my attention to others things. It also doesn’t help that I’m one of the world’s slowest writers and it takes a good deal of time to write each post, story and article.

But the practical excuses are only part of the reason. Perhaps the truest reason is that the fruitful connection I've felt with the Holy Spirit—my muse—has gone dark. It's like someone's turned the radio station between channels and I hear mostly static with occasional snippets of communication. Without the "urging" to write I haven't. Without the writing I've gotten out of the practice of listening. Without the listening I've lost the connection. It's become a chicken and egg kind of thing.

While this isn't a new struggle, for a time I thought I felt the peace of victory and reconnection with God (like “the old days”). But an inner battle continues and I feel the pull of apathy overtaking the pull of passion.

It seems that writing—continuing with it or walking away—is the tipping point for me.

And I don’t want to walk away. I don’t want to look back on writing with fondness as something I used to do. No. I want to press on. To keep writing as a way to talk with God, to experience Him and to share His Good News. And I want to rediscover the passionate love for God that energizes my spirit in a way nothing else does.

So, this morning I looked for inspiration outside “the voices in my head” and found them in God’s word. In Acts 17. (It's amazing how much that book speaks to me!)

Paul and Silas were in Thessalonica preaching the good news of Jesus. Crowds gathered to listen. Some Jews, God-fearing Greeks and quite a few prominent women came to faith in Jesus. But the other Jews weren't at all happy with the happenings in their town. In fact, they were jealous. So jealous that they "rounded up some bad characters from the marketplace, formed a mob and started a riot in the city.” (v. 5)

These Jews felt threatened by Paul and Silas. By their popularity. By the excitement that surrounded them. By their success. And by the way their message of Jesus contradicted with their understanding of God. They wanted to protect their position, status and ideas...so they started a riot.

I love that the Bible isn’t an allegorical tale, but a real story of real people. People from whom we can learn a lot about humanity. In this story, the Jews shine a mirror on our own lives and show us a facet of ourselves we’d rather not see—or admit to. Jealousy.

Who, me…jealous? I’ve never rounded up bad characters and started a riot. I’ve never dragged someone out of his house and thrown him into prison. I’m nothing at all like those Jewish people.

Or am I?

According to dictionary.com, jealousy means:

resentment against a rival, a person enjoying success or advantage, etc., or against another's success or advantage itself.
mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry, unfaithfulness, etc.,
vigilance in maintaining or guarding something.
a jealous feeling, disposition, state, or mood.

Well, if you put it that way…

I might never have gathered a mob, but I’ve certainly created a riot in my own mind. I’ve been suspicious or uneasy of ideas that differ from mine. I’ve drug someone’s reputation through the mud because I felt threatened. I’ve felt the burn of resentment when someone received attention/recognition/position I aspired to. Sadly, the list goes on.

As the story continues in Acts 17, Paul and Silas secretly left Thessalonica and went to Berea where the “Bereans were of more noble character than those in Thessalonica, for they received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day...” (v. 11)

Meanwhile, the Thessalonian Jews’ jealousy devoured them like a cancer.

As much as I’d like the opposite to be true, I relate more to the Thessalonians (at least initially) than the Bereans. My flaws are plentiful and my natural character isn’t so “noble.” Far from it.

But this is what makes the Good News such great news—for you and for me. It doesn’t matter how numerous our imperfections or how impure our actions or how broken we are, the grace of Jesus meets us exactly where we are. And accepts us exactly as we are.

Naturally I might be more like a Thessalonian, but supernaturally I want to be like a Berean. And while I am so much of a work in progress, I have faith that the same Spirit who turned Paul from a murderer to an evangelist. Who fueled the Thessalonian church to stand firm in their faith despite intense persecution. And who has been transforming lives for two thousand years can transform mine as well.

Is this a truth to cling to and a hope to keep fighting for? I sure think it is.

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." (Ezekiel 36:26)

I Think I Need a Chiropractor

2010-11-16T09:13:00.000-05:00

I'm writing over at Internet Cafe Devotions today. I hope you'll join me over there.

“You stiff-necked people, with uncircumcised hearts and ears! You are just like your fathers: You always resist the Holy Spirit!” (Acts 7:51-52)

I’ve always had an independent streak.

Some might call me stubborn, difficult or rebellious. Others might say I’m self-sufficient, creative and non-traditional.

One thing I know is that I don’t like to be boxed in and told what to do. When this happens I stiffen and resist the perceived oppression.

Ancient farmers knew a thing or two about this. They plowed their fields using oxen harnessed to a yoke. Sometimes an independent-minded ox fought being restrained. It stiffened its neck to resist getting attached to the yoke. Hence the term stiff-necked.

This chronic condition appeared in God’s people, and throughout the Old Testament the Israelites were frequently labeled stiff-necked. From generation to generation they stubbornly chose their own way and refused to yield to the “yoke” of the Lord.

Chronic stiff-neckitis continued to afflict the Jewish people in the New Testament. In the beginning of Acts, as the church spread with an unstoppable fire, some received a Holy Spirit-induced adjustment and accepted Jesus. But many religious folks, especially the elite, felt challenged and threatened by this new way of looking at God. They reared up and resisted.

Caught in the cross-hairs of their anger was the apostle Stephen who was accused of blasphemy and brought before the powerful Sanhedrin to stand trial. <<Read more...>>

The Church Has Left the Building - Part Two

2010-11-11T12:33:00.001-05:00

Today's entry is a continuation of yesterday's post. Go here to read that one first.

On Sunday, Woodside Church (the church I belong to) cancelled morning worship services. Not so our pastor could sleep in, or because we have attendance or finance issues. They cancelled church so that we—all of its members—could BE the church.

When I first heard this idea I liked the concept, but I wasn’t keen on stepping outside my routine or being told to “do” church differently. But eventually I signed up for one of the dozens or outreach/service projects that had been arranged by our members.

When outreach Sunday (aka The Church Has Left the Building) rolled around, my daughter headed off with the senior high kids to make lunches and hand them out to homeless people in Philadelphia. Dan, our son and I went to help lead a worship service and serve lunch to a group of recovering addicts.

Any reservations I had about the outreach concept vanished as soon as I entered the church that was letting us use their facilities for our outreach. It felt right and comfortable to be there. Our Woodside group of about 15 gathered to organize the food and discuss last minute details of the service. Guests started to arrive—men and women battling addictions, some living in a local area recovery house; recovery ministry leaders; members of our host church; and passersby. Soon the small chapel was filled to standing room only.

Now, when I say our group ran the worship service, I mean just that. Our pastor was present and led the music, but the rest of the service was left to us—the “unqualified.” None of us were ordained pastors or worship leaders. But having participated in plenty of worship services in the prison, I’ve seen first hand how none of those “qualifications” matter one bit to God.

Sunday proved that truth once again. In our raggedy, sincere and intimate worship service, songs were sung, testimonies were shared, prayers were prayed, a message was given,and four people came forward to give their lives to Jesus. The power of the Holy Spirit was awesomely evident.

Afterward we served lunch to our guests and chatted with them over homemade lasagna, salads and desserts. I met Leroy and Pat and Lydia and Mike and Billy. Each at different places in their recovery journey. Some on the other side of it, others just beginning. All clinging tightly to the hope that only Jesus offers.

The only hope any of us has.

Dan talked to more folks than I did and neither of us wanted the day to end. Even our son seemed engaged and listened intently to the stories, especially as one man shared his battles with crack cocaine and recent rescue by the Holy Spirit.

We left filled with joy and such an overwhelming sense of purpose and God’s goodness. That afternoon the body of Christ set aside its differences—denominational, ministry, demographic, experiential—and joined together in the name of Jesus.

Sunday “church” has never been so remarkable.

Even the leader of the recovery ministry with whom our group partnered was blown away by the outreach and said, “It’s so unusual for churches to act this way. It just doesn’t happen.”

That night all of Woodside gathered together to worship and share outreach experiences. The turnout was fantastic. Enthusiasm bubbled as stories were told. It seemed just about everyone—men, women and children—had done something that day. We:

Did yard cleanup for single moms, a nature center, a food pantry and a hospice
Painted, organized and did house repairs for elderly neighbors
Visited patients in hospice care and pediatric wards
Held worship services for nursing home residents and recovering addicts
Fed and cared for the homeless on the street and in camps
Picked up litter on the highways and sports fields
Made corsages and delivered them to nursing home residents
Collected canned food for the food pantry

Woodside is only a medium-size church, but in just one day we directly touched thousands of lives. I looked across our worship service and was deeply moved by the immensity of our outreach. By stepping out of Sunday routines and comfort zones we put the gospel in action. We fed Jesus’ sheep. And we loved our neighbors. I heard Jesus whisper, “This is what my Church should look like.”

We don’t need to travel to a third-world country. Or quit our jobs and enter the mission field. We just need to open the door and leave the building.

What if Woodside did this again? What if we made it a habit?

What if you and your churches joined in?

God's children are waiting for our answer.

The Church Has Left the Building - Part One

2010-11-10T07:20:00.000-05:00

They were Jesus’ last words. The ones uttered before He left his disciples forever. His final instructions.

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8)

Then Jesus was taken up into the sky and disappeared in the clouds. Even after He was out of sight, the disciples stood looking at the sky. Can you imagine the emotions that crashed like waves in their spirits? Disbelief and shock. Awe and wonder. Sadness. Excitement. Anticipation. And a whole lot of “What in the world just happened and what was Jesus talking about?!”

The answer started to come a few days later. At Pentecost God poured out the Holy Spirit on the disciples and surrounding crowds. In an awe-inspiring display of natural and supernatural power, eyes were opened, spirits were filled and the Church was born.

It grew exponentially—3,000, 5,000, 10,000 and upward. As the disciples navigated through inevitable conflicts and growing pains, it seems they imprinted Jesus’ final words upon their hearts:

“Be my witnesses...go and make disciples of all nations ...baptize in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit ...teach them to obey everything I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20)

This became their mission statement. The place they returned to to regain perspective when things got fuzzy or overwhelming or stirred up.

As a result, in the early days of the Church, “All the believers were one in heart and mind. And God’s grace was so powerfully at work in them all that there were no needy persons among them.” (Acts 4:32, 33)

The early church—the bride of Christ—was Spirit-led and -filled, passionate, active, generous, bold and unified. One body with many members, personalities, talents and cultures. Joined by one common goal.

One church.

What’s happened since then? How did we go from one to over 33,000 different denominations?! We’ve fought, fractured and fled over every conceivable reason. And in the last few centuries churches and church-goers have become increasingly insular: My denomination. My church. My pastor. My ministry. My Bible study. My way of interpreting.

But what would it look like if we set aside our preferences and focused less on form and invested more in function? If we stepped outside our barriers to spend less time inside our churches and more time outside them? If we stopped doing church and started being the church? What if every church put Jesus' instructions first and foremost in their hearts? Be filled with the Holy Spirit…Go…Be my witnesses…Make disciples…Baptize…Teach…Feed my sheep…Love your neighbor.

What would our churches look like?

This weekend I got to see the answer for myself.

...To be continued tomorrow

There IS Joy in Mudville

2010-10-26T09:45:00.003-04:00

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.

There is no joy in Mudville (aka Philadelphia) today because the mighty Ryan Howard has struck out. But unlike Casey, he didn’t even swing. He just stood there looking. Low and outside. Strike three.

And thus ended the Phillies’ run toward the National League Championship and a spot in the World Series. This team was so good that sportswriters and fans concluded victory was not only expected, it was a sure thing.

Yet, it was not to be.

I’m no baseball fan and don’t care much if the Phillies win or lose but I can’t help notice that fingers are being pointed. Heads are being hunted. And the person in the crosshairs right now is Ryan Howard. Here’s what folk are saying about him:

“Grossly overrated”
“Got what he deserved”
“Failure”
“He choked”
“He’s primarily to blame for the NLCS loss to the Giants.”

Ouch!

It makes sense that when you get paid millions of dollars to hit baseballs you better do that—especially when the stakes are so high. And when you don’t there are consequences.

Yet the fate of one man’s reputation was decided in a crucial moment. His worth and perceived value completely contingent on his performance. Hit a home run, we’ll throw you a parade. Strike out and we’ll run you out of town. It’s like this with any athlete.

“We’ll love you if…”
“We’ll cheer for you if…”
“We’ll praise you if…”

But if they fail, falter, fumble mess up or let us down—watch out! Cheers become boos. Esteem turns to disdain disdain. Adoring proclamations morph into scathing criticisms.

Oh how fickle our affections. Not just for sports figures, but for one another as well. Our actions—if not our words as well—say, “If you earn my love/affection/devotion/dedication/respect, I’ll give it to you.”

It's no wonder we have such a hard time comprehending the true meaning of grace.

Grace is God’s unmerited love for us. He offers this gift to ANYONE who accepts it, without ANY strings attached. Grace costs nothing for the recipient, but everything for the giver.

Philip Yancey says, “Grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us more and there is nothing we can do to make Him love us less.”

Nothing. At. All.

The idea that God’s love comes to us free of charge seems to go against every fiber in our beings. We’ve been brought up in an environment of ungrace and every day we breathe its polluted aroma. Everything and everyone around us expects us to earn our favor.

Except Jesus.

Grace is illogical. It’s counterintuitive. It’s radical. And it simply doesn’t add up. That’s what makes it so amazing!

The apostle Paul says:

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God..” (Romans 5:1-2)

It doesn’t matter how often we strike out, screw up or miss the mark. In Jesus, there is NO condemnation. Ever.

That’s good news for you and me. And it’s good news for Ryan Howard, too. Something tells me he could use some loving right about now.

Midnight in the Habitrail of Good and Evil

2010-10-21T07:23:00.001-04:00

It started during the incident that will hereafter be known in our family as The Bunny Massacre of Summer 2010.

Let’s just say a neighborhood rabbit decided to make a nest for her new arrivals in our yard. And then let’s say our dog “noticed” this nest in HER yard and was excited to discover a bundle of “squeaky” toys just for her. And then let’s say my kids were witness to the aftermath of this discovery.

There was much drama around these parts. Rescue efforts ensued. Life-saving efforts, including an eventual trip to a local wildlife rescue, were taken.Yet the fragile little bodies could not overcome the damage done. Tears were shed. The circle of life/survival of the fittest/Shakespearian tragedy played out on our backyard stage. The sound of Taps lingered in the distance.

Amid the emotion and angst, I developed a soft spot for small furry creatures. In a moment of weakness and in an attempt to assuage my kids’ sadness I uttered words I immediately regretted: “What if we get a hamster?” (Was I nuts? We already have a dog and a cat!)

My son, who recognized my temporary insanity, latched onto this unexpected, yet brilliant idea. His mantra became: “When can we get a hamster? Can we get one now?” I finally conceded that my stall tactics wouldn’t work and knew I had to make good on my “promise.” We headed to the pet store.

We returned home with a little hamster, a cage with a spinning wheel and all the necessities a growing hamster needs.

It wasn’t long before the other four-legged residents of our house noticed the new arrival with great interest. Tess, our yellow lab, came to inspect the goings on. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her ears perked and her gaze fixed determinedly on the hamster with great anticipation—“Really? For me?” she seemed to say. Later I caught our cat sitting on my son’s dresser peering into the hamster cage, plotting her next meal perhaps.

I warned my son, “Make sure you always close the cage because if the hamster gets out it doesn’t stand a chance in this house.”

Without a doubt, that little hamster was brought into a hostile environment.

The hamster, however, doesn’t seem to be aware of the danger that lurks. It doesn’t hide when a big, wet dog nose sniffs at it. It doesn’t cower when a cat bats at the exercise ball it’s running in. It's just blissfully unaware.

I’ve been thinking our lives are a bit like the hamster’s. We were born into a hostile environment. However our enemies aren’t a yellow lab or an orange tabby cat but a far more powerful adversary.

There is an epic, cosmic battle that preexists the creation of the heavens and the earth. When Satan tempted Adam and Even and they aligned with him, rebelling against God, that battle came to earth. “From that moment forward, human history is marked and marred by satanic, demonic sin, folly, rebellion, destruction, and devastation. And this epic, cosmic battle rages. We are each born into it. And furthermore, we see the effects in the lives of average, ordinary, normal, everyday people.” (Marc Driscoll, from his sermon “Jesus vs. Satan”)

It’s a scary thought. One we’d rather not delve into. But whether we acknowledge it or not, we’re players in the battle. The devil is deceptive, sneaky, relentless. He aims to trip us up, tantalize with temptations, fill with fear, douse with doubt, blindside with busyness and do whatever it takes to keep our eyes off God.

We can choose to remain blissfully unaware like my hamster—at our own peril. We can try to fight the battle on our own strength and willpower—but it is one we simply cannot win.

We must recognize our need for protection, but where do we find it? Here's what the Bible says:

“Be strong IN the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Therefore…Stand firm with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions then, with the with all kinds of prayers and requests.” (Ephesians 6:10-12, 14-18, emphasis mine)

The good news is we know the end of the story. When Jesus died on the cross and rose from grave, he overcame death. He won the battle. But until Jesus comes again, Satan is fighting for dominion of the earth. Wisdom says we must recognize our situation and enter the battle prepared for victory.

There’s a gospel song we sing when we visit the prison.

In the name of Jesus
In the name of Jesus
We have the victory (v-i-c-t-o-r-y)
In the name of Jesus
In the name of Jesus
Satan will have to flee (f-l-e-e)
Oh tell me who can stand before us
when we call on that great name
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus
We have the victory

In the the Lord. In Jesus. In the Spirit. We are protected. And we have the victory. (Thankfully we have furry friends to keep us company.)

On the Road Again

2010-10-15T07:12:00.003-04:00

Thanks for your insights and heartfelt comments to my last post. It was a tough issue and I truly appreciate your honesty and passion for friendship. God spoke to me through each of you.

________________________________________________

Just after midnight he opened the door and drug his tired, weary body into the house and heaved his overstuffed suitcase onto the hallway floor.

"Tough trip, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah, the storm delayed our takeoff for two hours and when we finally landed we sat on the tarmac forever because there wasn't a gate available."

But instead of sitting down to relax he started scurrying about unpacking and repacking. Confused at the flurry of activity I asked, "Why are you doing all that now?"

"Because I have to leave at 7:00 tomorrow morning?"

"But you just got home! I thought you weren't leaving until later." My warm feelings at his return quickly chilled.

Such is life with a husband who travels. The ups and the downs. The comings and goings. The schedule and the complete lack of it. The swirling unpredictability.

Business travel is part of Dan and my life. It's the path we journey on. I'm proud of my husband and what he does for a living. I try to be a loving, supportive wife—really I do—but sometimes it's just plain hard to be "the one" on the home front 24/7. Sometimes the tensions build and I act...well...not quite so loving and supportive.

As was the case last week. It was not my finest hour. Or the finest hour/day/week in our marriage. Let's just say things were kind of tense.

A while back (when all was relatively calm) Dan knew he'd have a free weekend during his West Coast travels and suggested I come to Seattle for a visit. I'd never seen that part of the country jumped at the opportunity. But last week as I simmered, I wondered if the trip was really such a good idea.

I waited for God to miraculously answer my prayers for a softer heart. But departure day neared and the hardness remained. Yet, despite the fog of emotion even I could see that staying home was a foolish choice. So I packed my bags, kissed my kids and headed to Seattle.

And boy am I glad I did.

Amid the backdrop of a fantastic city, wonderful food and beautiful scenery God did answer my prayer, slowly. And then on Sunday Dan and I walked to the downtown campus of Mars Hill Church and God used that place and their pastor (Marc Driscoll) to reach into both of our hearts and leave us breathless. Shaken. Convicted. "Wow!" we exclaimed as we left.

No marriage is easy. Some seasons are more challenging than others. But I have seen time and again how important it is to take time to get away. Together. Even when it's not convenient or all that desirable. And more recently God has shown me (and I think Dan, too) the truth of His words:

"Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." (Ecclesiastes 4:12)

So with the lemons of business travel we've made lemonade with some great trips together. Here's a look at our latest...

The original Starbucks!

Totally enjoying Pikes' Place Market...and our one afternoon with sun

Will you?

A walk around Bainbridge Island

Do we look as cold and wet as we were?

A brief but awe-inspiring peek at Mt. Rainier

Do you need to get away with your spouse? I encourage you to make the time and just do it! Where will you go?

Stay?...Or Go?

2010-10-06T11:07:00.002-04:00

Friends are one of God's greatest blessings to us.

The Bible teaches a lot about them. It teaches that iron sharpens iron, that a friend loves at all time, that we should love our neighbors and that peacemakers are blessed. It teaches that we're better together, we need to hold one another accountable and we need to speak the truth in love. It also teaches lots more.

However the Bible doesn't advise (at least not that I've seen) when or if we should end a relationship. And if doing so is loving...or selfish and prideful. (I'm not talking about marriage which Jesus certainly talked about.)

The story of Paul and Barnabas is the closest I could find.

Paul and Barnabas were ministry partners and best friends. Yet in Acts 15 they had such a sharp disagreement they parted company. Barnabas took Mark and sailed for Cyprus and Paul chose Silas and went through Syria and Ciliicia (v. 39-40). I'm guessing hurt feelings and wounded pride traveled with them as well.

Even though this story occurred 2,000 years ago, it could have happened yesterday--probably because things like this DO happen every day. Our humanity gets in the way and friendships end.

Yet what surprises me most about Paul and Barnabas' parting is that God used the schism to strengthen the church and it grew as a result of their separation. It seems the dissolution of their friendship was actually a good thing.

Certainly you can think of a friendship that ended badly—perhaps to be reconciled later, but never to be the same. Maybe you were the one who walked away or maybe you were the one left behind. Rejection hurts. It's hard to see how good can come of it.

But what is one to do when sharpened iron cuts more than strengthens? When love, even with the best intentions, hurts. And when personalities cannot arrive at peace? Is it a loving thing to separate? Or does it still come down to a matter of pride and selfishness?

What would Jesus counsel us to do?

What would YOU do?

I Will Never Forget -- part two

2010-09-23T10:23:00.005-04:00

I know you’ve been waiting on tenterhooks for part two of my 9/11 recollections. At long last here it is. In case you missed part one, you can read it here.

It’s been nine years since that infamous day—September 11, 2001. Two weeks ago, my kids had off school and we decided to spend the day in New York. For a change from our usual Midtown excursion, we took the Staten Island Ferry which landed us a the bottom of Manhattan. My mom joined us and we started our day with a visit to Ground Zero and St. Paul’s cathedral.

While still a working church, St. Paul’s has become a place of remembrance visited by millions of people each year. The exhibits memorialize the amazing place of hope and healing St. Paul’s became for rescue workers, firemen, policemen, families and a city in mourning. During the eight month relief ministry, nearly every surface of the more than 200-year-old chapel was covered in well wishes, cards, and banners sent from around the country and the world. And over 5,000 volunteers from all over the country staffed St. Paul’s 24/7.

Emotions are still close to the surface and many who walked among the 9/11 displays in the chapel became teary-eyed and a few wept openly. I, too, was transported back to the emotions I experienced while working at St. Paul’s on that one January night. The shock. The disbelief. The devastation. But the overwhelming sense of goodness, love and God’s presence.

One exhibit highlighted the herculean task of coordinating the army of volunteers. Since our church had sent teams of volunteers I was especially interested. The enlarged volunteer planning calendar on display was from January 2002.

Wait, Dan and I were here that month.

I scanned the dates and saw my church, “Woodside Presbyterian” listed three times. I called over my mom and kids to share my findings.

“Look at the 6th. That’s when Dad and I came here to help. And Woodside’s listed two more times this month.”

I was proud for the reminder that I was there and that I’m part of a church that's actively Jesus' hands and feet. In a small way we made a difference. I know my efforts during my 12-hour shift were just a speck in the relief effort, but I saw what I saw, and it changed me.

A quote on the display says it better: “People went in there and worked for 12 hours, and then walked out and said, ‘This may be the most important 12 hours I’ve ever spent in my life.’”

September 11 was a tragedy of unfathomable proportions. We as a nation and as a people became a shining example of the Church in action. God’s people were in need and we, collectively, rose up to respond. If nothing else, 9/11 demonstrated our capacity for selfless love. For sacrificial kindness. And for generous compassion.

I saw with my own eyes our ability to do the incredible.

Yet, isn’t this what Jesus calls us to do EVERY day? Not just in response to catastrophes like 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, the earthquake in Haiti or the latest crisis du jour.

We are still those people who dropped everything and said, “Here am I. Send me.” But where are we? Where am I?

The world needs us. They need our kindness. Our compassion. Our generosity. And our love—in the name of Jesus. We don’t even have to leave our communities to find God’s people crying out—in poverty, homelessness, hunger, AIDS, addiction, illiteracy and sickness. How are we responding to these everyday tragedies that don’t garner headlines or media attention?

In the 16 hours (including travel time) I ent usiastically volunteered at Ground Zero couldn’t I:

Bring a bag of groceries to a single mom
Build at Habitat for Humanity
Volunteer at a food pantry or soup kitchen
Tutor children at a homeless shelter
Visit a shut-in
Write a letter to a prisoner.
Send a card of encouragement to a friend with cancer.

What could you do?

Heroic responses to catastrophes make great storytelling. They inspire and excite. Yet aren't our small, seemingly unremarkable acts of love every bit as extraordinary to a Savior who calls us to love in His name?

In a parable He teaches His followers: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’”

“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”(Matthew 25:35-40)

Isn’t this the very thing we must never forget—and act upon?

Confessions of a Praise-o-holic

2010-09-17T16:04:00.001-04:00

I'm writing at Internet Cafe Devotions today. I hope you'll read on and join me there.

“…for they loved praise from men more than praise from God.” John 12:43

Applause. Recognition. Accolades.

I crave kudos. As a writer, graphic designer and creative type, much of what I do is on display. Like a second grader during craft time, I retreat to my creative cubby wielding a keyboard and computer instead of crayons and construction paper. Hours, days or weeks later, I emerge proudly proclaiming, “Look what I made!”

Others aren’t usually as excited by my “masterpieces” so I’ve learned to temper expectations and savor scraps of praise like gold stars on a spelling test. When I work as a professional, the money I earn speaks for itself. When I voluntarily use my skills as a ministry, payment comes in other ways. A nod in my direction, a “wow” or “well done” is typically all the affirmation I need to live another day—creatively speaking.

A while back I tackled a ministry project bigger than any I’d ever done. It challenged me to use all my creative talents, plus master some new ones as well. I poured myself into the project. I missed meals. I lost sleep. Weary, exhausted and emotionally spent I pressed on to completion and dragged the project across the finish line. And then I waited for the applause.

“Thanks, this is great,” they said. “We really appreciate it.”

Inside I railed, That’s it?! Do you realize what I’ve accomplished? Do you have any idea what it’s worth? Can you see the wounds this project inflicted? I want a parade, a marching band, a float with me on top, a banner proclaiming my greatness. (Perhaps I got a bit carried away.)

And that’s where the enemy spotted an opening. He planted seeds of grumbling. Seeds of discontent. And seeds of anger. My logical side cautioned against nurturing them, but the emotional side eagerly supplied the watering cans. Read more...

I Will Never Forget -- part one

2010-09-14T07:07:00.004-04:00

It was a spectacular early fall morning. The sun sparkled in a cloudless sky. Low humidity and a light breeze hinted at the cooler days to come. I’d just dropped my son off for his first day of preschool and headed off to meet friends for coffee. We gathered to catch up and celebrate our preschoolers’ first day of school—and the few hours of free time we’d now have three days a week.

We eased into comfortable conversation. Customers came and went, and the time passed pleasantly. Life was good in our comfortable suburban community.

Little did we know that as we chatted about our kids and play dates and how to get a fussy eater to eat anything green, 65 miles north of us, a tragedy of unfathomable proportions was happening. And we’d remember this morning for the rest of our lives.

At 8:46 a.m. a hijacked airplane crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Seventeen minutes later a second plane crashed into the South Tower. These never-before-experienced acts of terrorism altered our country forever.

I’m sure you, too, know where you were that day.

Seventeen people in our community were killed in 9/11 and my church family felt deeply connected to this tragedy. In the months following they sent teams of volunteers to St. Paul’s Chapel.

Front gate of St. Paul's Chapel. Photo: www.trinitywallstreet.org

Situated on the edge of Ground Zero, St. Paul’s became a pilgrimage site for the grieving and seeking. Weary construction workers, policemen and firefighters sought refuge inside as an army of volunteers provided meals, counseling, supplies, chiropractic/podiatry care, and sometimes just a hug and a smile. The chapel was transformed into a place of peace, rest and reconciliation.

In early January 2002, Dan and I went with a team from our church to work the overnight shift at St. Paul’s. For twelve hours we helped serve food, distribute supplies and control entry into the chapel. I remember little of what I did that night, but I will never, ever forget what I saw.

Ground Zero exuded raw emotion. Grief, shock and despair intermingled with hope, compassion and peace. The fence surrounding St. Paul’s had become a tribute to 9/11 victims. Loved ones, friends and strangers covered the iron fence surrounding the property with flowers, candles, cards, stuffed animals, pictures, flags and mementos. Inside the chapel, sympathy cards, pictures, posters and banners—made mostly school children—covered every bit of wall space and the backs of pews. Children even donated teddy bears to comfort workers.

The relief ministry of St. Paul’s testified to a remarkable and interwoven story of selfless giving, random acts of kindness and unending compassion. Thousands of people came to volunteer, and it seemed that every family and every school child in America had sent some expression of comfort in response to 9/11. It wasn’t a New York or an East Coast tragedy. It was a universal one, and the entire country shared a collective shock and grief.

It would have been so easy for Ground Zero to become a place of hate. Of bitterness. And revenge. Surprisingly, and incredibly quickly, it became the opposite. It became a place of grace. The unlikely reaction to acts of pure evil was an outpouring of pure love—love that set aside religious differences, racial prejudices, economic inequities and socio-economic divides. Love that came together to mourn, to console, to feed, to soothe, to cry and even to laugh. Love that showed the best of humanity in response to the worst of it. There was no question of where God was. He was there in that church. I have never experienced the totality of His perfect love in such a powerful way before or since.

If I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes I might not believe it. But I did. And I do.

To be continued...

Where Are You?

2010-09-07T12:54:00.004-04:00

As a toddler, my son was a runner. Not as an athletic endeavor, but as a personality trait.

You know those calm, self-amused toddlers you encounter in the grocery store who sit contentedly in their shopping carts while their moms shop—endlessly amused with their surroundings or the stray cheerios they found clinging to their sleeve? The ones with whom you exchange smiles and whose moms you secretly award "good parenting" medals.

This was not my reality. Ever. From the moment he learned to walk my son wanted OUT! Shopping trips became wrestling matches with me trying to keep the prisoner—I mean, son—contained in the stroller or shopping cart for as long as possible. "Here! Play with this," I'd say as I frantically snatched items from the store shelves, trying to keep him entertained.

We'd make it through the produce section okay because there were snacks. But by aisle three my son would be squirming out of the seat restraint, trying to stand up. I tried to remain calm and in control but the beads of perspiration gathering on my brow gave me away. Halfway through the store we'd be engaged in a battle of wills as he tried to climb out of the cart and I tried to keep him in there. Shrieking was involved. And the dairy section at the end of the store taunted, "You'll never make it this far!"

I'm quite certain no one ever bestowed any parenting awards upon me!

Needing to finish the shopping, but wanting to end the torture as soon as possible, I'd eventually relent and let him out.

"Stay right here and hold onto the cart." I'd instruct.

Inevitably, as I compared prices of canned peaches or spaghetti sauce or toilet paper, he'd fasten his attention elsewhere. When I turned back to the cart, he'd be gone. Out of sight.

A search would ensue and I'd usually find him an aisle or two away, where he'd be frantic at the realization he was alone. Or I'd hear his voice crying "Moooom! Where are you?" His desired freedom didn't seem so freeing after all.

Despite the scare of "losing" me, he made this mistake many times.

When it comes to my relationship with my heavenly Father, I'm a lot like my son. I don't want to obey or submit to His will. I want my freedom and independence. I want to follow my own desires. So I put on my running shoes and set out my own. Yet time and again I find myself lost and alone—and anything but free.

"God, I can't see you? Where are you?" I cry out.

This summer I found myself far from God. But instead of wandering around aimlessly, I decided to get intentional about finding Him—and keeping Him in my sights. For the month of August I spent thirty-ish days looking for evidence of God in my everyday. I recorded those observations here and here.

Last week marked the end of my Thirty-ish Days with God. While I haven’t been faithful about recording my thoughts on a daily basis, I have been deliberate about looking for God “in the moment.”

What’s surprised me is that this practice works. By intentionally looking for the Almighty—not in powerful displays but in small ones—I’ve experienced His presence frequently.

Here’s where I witnessed God most dramatically:

In nature. Whether savoring the spectacular views of bucolic New Jersey (yes, New Jersey!) atop of Sunrise Mountain during an all-day hike. Watching the purpose-filled fluttering of butterflies on a butterfly bush. Observing the subtle signs of impending Fall. Marveling at a dazzling sunset. Evidence of our Creator’s handiwork is EVERYWHERE!

In my faith-filled friends and family. We are definitely better together! God continually worked through the spirit-filled friends He’s placed in my life. Through them He offered encouragement and laughter, gave wise counsel and showed me love. What a gift you are!

In my husband. I have long appreciated my marriage, but in the last several years the Spirit has done a work in both our lives. I have a renewed sense of how blessed I am that my husband is a safe haven, that our relationship is anchored by our mutual love for Jesus and that despite the bumps in the road, we are truly walking together.

In time alone with God. Through walks, Bible reading, listening to music and time spent being still. Intimate, one-on-one time with my heavenly Father has helped me to know Him better—to gain insight, straighten out my thinking and better hear His voice.

I've re-discovered Jesus to be faithful, patient and oh, so very present in the details of my life. I'm not as lost as I thought and He's not nearly so far away!

However, unlike my son who will increase his independence as he matures, I need to maintain a childlike reliance on keeping near my heavenly Father. Not just for thirty days, but for a lifetime. And He promises that if we seek Him with all our heart, we will find Him. (Jeremiah 29:13)

“God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:27-28)

Are you looking God? Where have you found Him lately?

Not What I Expected

2010-08-31T14:42:00.000-04:00

"Point your kids in the right direction—when they're old they won't be lost." (Proverbs 22:6, The Message)

My kids went back to school today. The house is empty, the weather is beautiful and my computer and keyboard beckon. I should celebrate, right?

Don’t misunderstand, I’m thrilled my kids are back in school and we’re returning to more predictable routines. Lord knows their minds greatly need intellectual stimulation after a summer filled with far too much Facebooking, Sims creating, texting, iTouch gameplaying, and other forms of electronic gadgetry for my taste, and probably their own good.

Throughout the summer I suggested/implored/beseeched/commanded, “Why don’t you read a book/play outside/ride your bike/do a craft?”

“Moooom!” my tuned-out teens retorted in exasperation. “It’s too hot.” “No one’s home.” “I’ll be done in a few minutes.” “Later.” They’ve developed an impressive arsenal of evasion techniques.

So yes, part of me is doing the Wave to celebrate that my progeny are safely ensconced in their respective academic institutions.

But part of me is melancholy. I’m becoming increasingly aware that with each new step toward independence taken and each grade started, my little chicks are getting closer and closer to flying to coop. Sooner than I wish to imagine, they’ll be on their own. I want to freeze time. To savor our moments together. To hold onto life as it is right now.

I find it incredibly ironic the phase of parenting I dreaded most—the teen years—is the phase I’m enjoying the most. (Although technically my son isn’t quite yet a teen and I suspect his teen years are going to come with their own unique challenges.)

Next year we’ll start to look at colleges with our daughter. Didn’t we just choose a preschool? How did time pass this quickly? (*sniff*)

Before I break into full blown sobbing, suffice it to say the start of school this year is bittersweet.

It's our jobs as parents though, isn't it—to prepare our children to walk on their own? I hope and I pray that Dan and I are pointing them in the right direction...and that they continue to follow. For this we need to rely on God's guidance and faith in His provision.

In the coming weeks I'll be reordering my days, wrestling with my time management issues, reconnecting with friends and getting back to writing with enthusiasm and a new sense of purpose (at least I hope so).

What are your back-to-school thoughts and plans?

Today also marks the end of my Thirty-ish Days with God. Stop by tomorrow for my observations and thoughts on the experience.

I'm...So...Thirsty

2010-08-24T10:00:00.000-04:00

I have a devotion running at Internet Cafe today. I hope you'll follow me over there.

It’s an endless summer. One sweltering, sticky day leads to another. Scorched lawns and withered plants gasp for mercy—and rain. Wilted shrubs join in the chorus. As do the pines, oaks, elms and maples.

Some trees stand emaciated and browned as if cursed by an evil Drought Queen. Alive one day, dead the next. With nary a green twig on their branches, there’s no hope of recovering. Soon workers will get busy with chainsaws and chippers to remove the blighted foliage from the landscape.

But only some of the trees have succumbed to the conditions. Many others remain green and vital. Curious, I asked a landscaper friend, “Why?”

He answered, “All plants are stressed by the intense conditions, but the trees that die were probably struggling before the hot weather hit. They didn’t set their roots deep enough so they’re susceptible to disease and can’t get enough surface water to survive.”

As I walked by some corpse-like trees recently I pondered my own summer of spiritual dryness. Will that be me in a short while? And I wondered why? Why do some Christians remain fruitful and strong through extreme hardships and passing years, and others succumb to a seasonal drought? Why does one’s faith keep growing and another’s withers? [Read more...]

Bliss in the Solitude

2010-08-19T18:12:00.005-04:00

I. Am. In. Heaven.

My kids left this afternoon on a trip with my parents. My husband is on a business appointment. And I am home alone in a quiet house—with no one to carpool, no deadlines pressing and no interruptions. Just Tess and I hanging out—relaxed and carefree. (Although pretty much every day for our adorable yellow lab is stress-free and chill.) But, I do think she looks particularly pleased as she’s laying at my feet.

It’s been a long while since I’ve had this kind of solitude. And my heart is happy. I need this.

Plus, I’ve exercised, I’ve showered and the laundry is done. Even the dinner menu is planned. (Who says God doesn't do miracles!) So, what was the first order of business? To curl up on my favorite loveseat and finish my latest book…and enjoy a mini-catnap.

Now I’m reviewing my notes from the writers’ conference last week and planning my next writing steps. From top to bottom, the conference was a great experience. I have a book idea brewing and proposed the concept to a few editors/agents/publishers. Part of me wanted them all to say, “Forget it. It’s been done. Your idea is stale. There’s no market for it. You don’t have what it takes.” Seriously. I see how much of an uphill struggle book publishing is, and a big part of me says, Why would any sane person pursue that road?!

But the writing professionals didn’t dissuade me. In fact one of them said my idea was the only one that excited him from the entire conference. Of course, I was flattered and encouraged, but needed to remind myself that I haven’t even written one sentence of said book yet!

The whole experience made me question my gifts, my calling and my next steps. How does God want me to proceed? What gifts should I develop them more fully? Should I concentrate on ministry or look for paying opportunities? Should I stay in my small arena where it’s safe and relative success is guaranteed or venture out into the unknown and risk catastrophic failure?

I say I like adventure, and I do, but there is so much that scares and intimidates me about taking a next step. My weaknesses seem a glaring liability—my deficiencies a brick wall. I look around and see so many writers who write with far greater skill, humor, compassion and eloquence. I see writers who love the spotlight and speaking and platform-building (necessary for authors). I visit websites and blogs that show lives and families that resemble pages from the latest JCrew, Pottery Barn or Gourmet magazines. Who lives this way?

I hear the message, Only the exceptional need apply.

I know this mindset is a thorn (certainly one of many) in my side. And I know the enemy wants me to marinate in these feelings of inadequacy. But part of me believes I’m right— that I’m not good enough. That I don’t measure up. And that while I may be lots of things, exceptional isn’t one of them.

Thankfully, the Bible is filled with stories of unlikely, unwilling and unqualified people through whom God did great things. I call to mind the promise of the cross. If Jesus lived, died and conquered death, surely He can slay the demons of doubt that infest me. Surely He can fulfill His purpose in me, regardless of my confidence in the matter.

And He can do the same with you. I don’t know where your confidence lies right now or what insecurities plague you. I don’t know why women especially, struggle with feelings of inadequacy. But so many of us do.

But Jesus is our hope. He is our strength. And He is our peace. His grace covers our weakness, and overcomes the voice in our head and the lies of this world. “I’ve told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I’ve conquered the world.” (John 16:32-33, The Message)

I take these words to heart. I drink in their truth and promise. I press on, reaffirmed that I'm not going it alone. And I offer up a prayer of thanks for the gifts God's given me—starting with a blissfully, quiet house.

An Adventure in Writing

2010-08-13T22:20:00.000-04:00

I’m on an adventure of a different kind this week—I’m at the Philadelphia Christian Writer’s Conference. I wasn’t even sure if I’d attend this year’s conference and waited until the last moment to register, but I’m so glad I did. These past couple days I’ve connected with old friends and made new ones. I’ve soaked in the teachings of authors, agents, editors and publishers. And I’ve lived, eaten and breathed the world of writers and writing. It’s a little corner of heaven.

Since I didn’t go to the conference with specific goals or plans, I’ve been free to survey the workshop offerings on the landscape. I’ve explored persuasive writing, justice and advocacy, building platforms, crafting book proposals and writing for teenagers. Each path has revealed new ways I might use my words. New ways I might minister. New ways I might grow…and help others too as well.

Two years ago this conference jumpstarted my writing journey. It’s gratifying to see how my writing’s developed, my knowledge has increased and my writing relationships have expanded since then (especially including my membership in a wonderful writing critique group, nine of whom are at the conference, Hey, Hawk Point ladies!)

Many of my colleagues came to the conference laden with book proposals and manuscripts, hoping to find a home for the words they’d so gruelingly birthed. Labors of love neatly bound for presentation. The hallways are abuzz with reports from appointments with editors and publishers. Some see doors opening, “He asked for my entire manuscript.” Others fear they’re closing, “If I talk about it I’m going to start to cry again.”

We writers pour our hearts, our spirits, our whole selves into our writing. Our words are a part of us. It’s hard to separate rejection of our words from rejection of ourselves. (Or vice verse.) But the publishing business is Darwinian. Only the fittest…best-written…and most marketable will survive. Not because publishers and agents are cruel people (they’re actually quite nice), but because writing for publication is a business.

This journey is not for the faint-hearted or thin-skinned. My heart aches for my fellow writers who are on the emotional, rollercoaster of a ride toward publication. Some are going to bed tonight affirmed and excited about the future. Others want to quit and go home. I pray that regardless of the feedback each of us receives this week, we maintain teachable hearts, we learn and grow, and we see God in this experience.

I especially pray that each of us writers recognizes that whether our words reach tens of readers, thousands or millions—we are writers nonetheless who have been given a holy gift. And more than that we’re children of God. And no negative (or positive) critique can change our true identity.

Nicki, I’m praying for you especially!

Thirty-ish Days of Experiencing God: Days 7-18

2010-08-09T14:22:00.003-04:00

I've lost track of individual entries and forgot to be "intentional" a couple days, but I am determined to finish this thirty-ish day journey to see where it takes me. I'll save my big-picture insights until the end.

Lord, I've missed a few days, but I've been looking for you . . . and finding you. It’s been a tough couple weeks and you know the battles I’m fighting. Mostly with myself. I’ve put up defenses and erected walls. Yet even still you have broken through and reached my stubborn, angry, prideful heart.

I have experienced You through my reaching out to friends for wisdom and prayer. I see You in the way they’re standing in the gap for me.

I’ve experienced you on walks with my iPod. Especially when you pierced my heart with this song, and bombarded me with your Word and showed me the answer I’d been seeking. How painful yet how humbling and freeing is your truth.

I saw you at the shore last week. In the ocean and the waves. In the laughter shared with my family. In my morning quiet time on the beach. In the comfort felt from revisiting childhood memories.

Even last night at worship your message pierced my stony heart turning the mirror I’d been shining on others, toward myself. Allowing me to see my own shameful wretchedness. Wretchedness I know only your grace can redeem. How I need gallons of it right now.

You revealed yourself as I lay on the trampoline last night, enjoying the stillness and marveling at the stars. An awesome backdrop for my disrupted spirit, swirling thoughts and fresh insights.

Though I’ve wanted to run far away, you’ve shown me there is nowhere I can go where you will not be. And what better choice is out there? You are my best option. My only option. I recall the words of Psalm 139 and receive perspective and comfort and hope.

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (v. 7-12, 23-24)

In the precious name of Jesus, Amen.

Thirty-ish Days of Experiencing God: Days 3-6

2010-07-27T12:58:00.000-04:00

I don't want my faith to look like the tree on the right. Do you?

I thought when I posted my last blog entry on a Friday afternoon in the summer I'd hear crickets. Surprisingly I didn't. It seems I'm not the only one in a funk.

While "misery loves company" I'm happily surprised that so many of you said you, too, were going to join me on my journey: Thirty-ish Days of Experiencing God.

Here's how I've experienced God in recent days:

Day 3: Friday, July 16
Lord, I'm humbled that you used my writing today to touch others. Thank you for helping me rearrange my thoughts from a spirit of complaining and grumbling to one of searching. I saw your presence in the many comments my friends posted on my blog. I saw you in the way you link us together not just in the really great times or the really awful times, but in the in-between times too. We are better together

Day 4: Saturday, July 17
Father God, I drew the short straw and had to get up early to run Mom's taxi. You know I'm not an early riser. Thank you for nudging me to not go back to bed, but to put on my sneakers and join the club of EMEs (early morning exercisers) instead. As Tess and I walked briskly in the only window of tolerable temperatures today, I felt your presence in my beating heart, in the blessed shade you provided, in the fellow EMEs I passed...and especially in the praise music I sang along to on my iPod. How awesome it was to worship with you in this way.

Day 5: Sunday, July 18
Lord, I saw you this morning in the leisurely breakfast with my husband...in the pressed-coffee, the easy conversation and the freshly-baked scones (aka, the bread of life). Thank you for this time to just be and to be together.
Thank you for safely bringing home the group of teens and grownups from Bahamas mission trip and for their great experience there. I saw you shining brightly in their stories—your glory reflected in their eyes and their smiles. Through their comments: "It was unbelievable...It was life-changing...I am so charged up and revived...it was the best trip ever...I can't stop talking about it," I saw your transforming Spirit at work. I thank you for this witness and that you are an up-close God who is alive and active in the lives of His people.

Day 6: Monday, July 19
Awesome Creator, wow! What a wonderful day. The oppressive humidity is gone, the temperature are so much cooler and the sunlight shines clear and bright. How could I not experience you and soak in your presence on such a marvelous day...such a welcome and unexpected relief from the past weeks. Just opening the windows and breathing in the air revives my spirit.

What surprises me about this exercise is that my thinking is actually changing. I'm not "all better" or shouting from the mountaintops, but in less than a week my mind really is looking for God in each day. I'm more aware and mindful. And I'm looking in less and looking out more.

Are you with me on this journey? How have you experienced God in these past days?

Enough already... Snap out of it!

2010-07-23T12:42:00.002-04:00

I’m in a funk.

Maybe it’s because I can’t get a grasp on the chaotic schedule of the summer and it’s making me a little nuts. Whoever waxed nostalgic about the “lazy, hazy days of summer” was obviously under the age of 18, living at the beach and unemployed. With my kids’ drop offs and pick ups starting at 7:40 a.m., Mom’s taxi is “on call” all day—to and from the pool for swim team, the high school for theater camp and friends’ houses. I’m happy my kids are involved in wonderful things, but every day brings a new agenda. I struggle with time management on a good day so tossing about in an ocean of scheduling uncertainty has turned my brain into scrambled eggs.

Maybe I’m off-kilter because I’m not a huge fan of summer…at least not twelve weeks of it. I like the rhythm of my school-year days. Given my choice, I’d nip six weeks off this season and add the excess to fall and spring. Or I’d fill up the entire summer with non-stop travel and mission trips. During this in-between time I feel the loss of connections as Bible studies, activities and even friendships (my mom friends are pretty much in the same boat as I am) get put on hold until fall.

I’m adrift in a sea of ennui. An ugliness is creeping into my soul. It’s leaking into my spiritual life too. I feel blah—disconnected from God, from quiet time, from worship. I confess the vibrancy of my faith so often follows my emotions and circumstances. Of course I see this is where the real problem (and solution) lies.

Honestly, right about now I want to smack myself and yell, “Enough already, snap out of it!” (You might be thinking similar thoughts. I wouldn’t hold it against you.) I know I can’t really change my circumstances. And I know I can't fix this on my own. But I can't spend the rest of the summer with my head down waiting for time to pass.

"Coincidentally," a solution came to me the other day while reading a friend’s blog—deliberately seeking God every day for an entire month. It struck me as brilliantly spot on.

So, for the next 30 days (give or take) I’m going to lift my head up and intentionally seek God in my day-to-day. I want to keep my eyes and ears open to see, hear and experience the Almighty in the quiet, the hidden and the ordinary. I’m going to look for those in-between moments where I get a glimpse of His holiness and my spirit stirs in recognition. I pray the attitude of my heart follows.

I started two days ago and you know what? God’s not so far away after all. I’m seeing Him and experiencing Him in ways I’d missed before. My goal is to record here daily how I’m experiencing our marvelous Creator, Savior, Redeemer and Bread of Life. I hope that in these small revelations you’ll get a glimpse of Him too.

Thirty-ish Days of Experiencing God

Here’s how I saw God today:

Day 1: Wednesday 7/21
Lord, today I saw You in an email from a friend—in her wise words and compassionate heart. I know you’ve brought this person into my life to speak truth and encouragement. Thank you for her friendship and for all the amazing Christian brothers and sisters you’ve blessed me with.

I also saw You in Bible study tonight…in talk of You as our hiding place…in Your names— Jehovah Jireh, Yahweh, El Shaddai …in the beautiful words of our closing prayers. Thank you for this study (and my sisters in it) that are manna all year, but especially right now in the drought of summer.

Day 2: Thursday 7/22
Father God, I saw you today while Connor and I walked home from his swim practice. Even though he wasn’t happy about walking all the way home, You used this time for us to talk and just enjoy each other's company.

I experienced your nearness this evening while listening to the missionary visiting from Haiti. I felt the love you’ve put in my heart for these people flame up. I felt your hand pressing me to continue to help them. Where I see an overwhelmingly hopeless situation, you reminded me of the impact of loving one person at a time.

How have you experienced God today?

Can I Take a Shower Now?

2010-07-19T13:29:00.001-04:00

I thought I knew "dirty." Yesterday I learned I had no idea.

Picture a mud puddle. Now make it a hundred times wider. And ten times deeper. Now add mud mountains and mud-filled gulleys. Got it?

Now picture 4,550 normally sane, sanitary (at least I'm assuming they were) men, women and children muddling through this mucky morass—voluntarily. And oh, did I mention... strategically place military men to assure no one runs through it. Listen for them shouting, "Why are you running? Get down on your belly!" "You, in the red shirt—get down on your belly!" "Ma'am, yeah you. Get down on your belly!" Now picture everyone dropping to their knees, sliding on their bellies and crawling through it! Ugh!

The result? See for yourself.

This 10K and 5K military-style obstacle course event also offered an abbreviated version for kids. Our son was one of the 400 "Adventure Kids" who participated. They ran up hills and down, crawled under netting, scrambled over hay bales and ended at the pièce de résistance—the mud pit. Kids from four to thirteen mucked through the mire just like the grownups.

Here's our little guy going through it...

He liked doing the race but quickly discovered he didn't like being that filthy. "I feel like I'm going to throw up. Can I take a shower now?"

I don't think my son has ever asked, let alone practically begged, to take a shower. He's perfectly content to live with accumulated sweat, grime and dirt. Only when mud-saturated did the need become overwhelming.

This entire event may make you shudder with disgust or giggle with glee. You may want run as far away as possible or sign up for the next one. Regardless, one fact remains. Mud happens.

And sooner or later we all get dirty.

This got me thinking about what the Bible has to say about mud.

Generally mud is not well regarded in Scripture. It's a place of punishment (Job 30:19). It's the consequence of being vanquished (2 Samuel 22:43). It's something to be rescued out of (Psalm 40:2). It's what the wicked stir up as they toss about like ocean waves (Isaiah 57:20). Mud was associated with evil, punishment and human suffering. Apparently the ancients didn't have as much fun playing in the stuff as we do.

But in the New Testament Jesus gives us a new view of mud—as an ingredient to healing. In John 9, Jesus and his disciples encounter a blind man. Jesus ignores the why's and who's of their questions about the reason for the man's blindness and sets to work. He gathers dust from the ground, spits on it and makes mud. Then Jesus puts the mudcakes on the blind man's eyes. Miraculously after the man washes his eyes in a nearby pool, he can see. (John 9:1-12)

Now, I haven't found any commentary that specifically analyzes the mud so I might be off-base, but I'm wondering about the mud's significance. Is it a visual reminder of the man's infirmity? Is it a metaphor for our suffering or spiritual blindness? Can our "mud" in Jesus' hands actually be a good thing?

As we sit in our clean houses, wearing clean clothes on clean bodies (at least relatively...I haven't showered yet today), it's hard to see that we're unclean, let alone filthy. But, our dirt usually resides far beneath the surface.

Maybe you're drenched in the shame of addiction, abuse or abortion. Caught in a quagmire of worthlessness, loneliness or despair. Muddling in bitterness, unforgiveness or anger. Drowning in self-sufficiency, pride or ego.Stuck in complacency, comfort or questions.

Look at the mud-covered runners in the pictures above. What covers you?

I need this snapshot right now. I need this mental picture of my own brokenness and sinful, but also of the hope of restoration. I'm not sure why I continually go back to the mucky morass from which I've been rescued and wallow around in it, but I do. I'm covered in it and I'm a mess. I feel like my son, realizing how desperately I need a shower.

How thankful I am that our God is alive and active in our lives. That He uses the mud in our lives to reveal His glory. And that He will "wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin...and I will be whiter than snow." (Psalm 51:2,7)

I wish I could say the same thing for my son's muddy clothes—washed four times and still far from clean!

Can't You Just Carry Me?!

2010-07-13T09:34:00.000-04:00

Today marks my first appearance on Internet Cafe Devotions. I've been a fan of the Cafe since I started blogging and am thrilled to now be part of their devotion team. I'll be serving up my usual fare over there about once a month. I hope you stop by the Cafe and savor their delectable inspirational offerings.

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“To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.” (1 Peter 2:21, NIV)

I love adventures.

This spring my husband and I backpacked from the North Rim to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon on a four-day trip. To make life easier, we selected a company to outfit and lead us. They took care of everything—gear, itinerary, permits and food. Best of all they provided us with Jeremy, our knowledgeable and enthusiastic guide.

Jeremy and I in the Grand Canyon

From our first steps into the Canyon to our last steps out of it, we followed Jeremy. When he said, “Go,” we went. We didn’t plan our day or worry what we’d eat or where we’d rest. He took us on side hikes to waterfalls and caves only insiders know about. He prepared delicious meals. He entertained us with Indian lore. And he even bandaged my blistered feet.

We trusted his guidance and relied on him to keep us safe from the myriad Canyon dangers like heat stroke, dehydration, flash floods and poisonous snakes. (During our trip at least twelve people were emergency air-evacuated out of the canyon for physical reasons.)

While our four days in the Canyon were indeed difficult—I had the aching muscles and injured feet to prove it—the trip was far much more enjoyable and enriching because we had Jeremy. Did I mention he even did the dishes?! Read more...

A Holy Temple, Built Together

2010-07-06T06:30:00.006-04:00

We’re back! Loads of smelly laundry have been done. Stories have been shared. And sleep has been caught up on (sort of). The overwhelming question asked is “How was it?”

Overall our trip to the Dominican Republic was extremely successful. We persevered through rain, sickness, lack of sleep and extremely difficult work conditions to exceed construction expectations. Concrete block walls rise as testimony to that fact! The vision of a church/school/medical clinic is taking shap♠e.

After five days on the work site, our progress is remarkable.

Jellyfish welt. Ouch!

Remember the challenges I wrote about previously? Well, they continued. During our beautiful, sunny afternoon at the beach, we came under attack. Swimmer after swimmer ran from the surf, wincing in pain as welts developed on injured arms, legs, feet and torsos. We quickly identified the unseen sea monsters—an infestation of jellyfish staked their claim and made their mark (literally) on our one afternoon of leisure. But we didn't let them ruin our day. We just resorted to beach walks, shell collecting, domino playing, ball throwing and plain old relaxing.

Even a brief trip to the mercado for shopping was impeded by incredible traffic and an exploding bus tire. As we all stood on the side of the road during the repair we were treated to a rain shower.

I won’t even go into the issues I had with my hair!

Yet, even though we had few of the comforts of home and were dealt one challenge after another, the spirits of our group remained high. There was little grumbling and complaining. Where people could have quit in resignation or staged a coup, they persevered day in and day out. In fact, most folks are already planning to return next year!

Everyone on the trip has special images that stick in their minds—visual experiences collected like treasures we'll revisit time and again. Here are a few of my favorites:


Despite a steady downpour, the American and Dominican kids gathered to sing some songs.

Watching the kids, especially my daughter, build relationships, engage and come alive. They all sparkled and I know this experience marked them forever. One little boy said, “This trip is even better than going to Disney World!”

While I didn't love digging trenches with pick axes and shovels in the blazing sun, I loved working with the Dominicans on the site— working with mecla and a plana to build walls, bending rebar and making columns, and climbing on top of walls to pour concreto. I'll miss Chi Chi, Andres, Ed, Israel, Nelson, Lucman and the others.

Dave and I worked hard to finish our "windows"

Enjoying our afternoon café con leche—despite the fact I was nearing heat stroke on several days.
Witnessing the church in action. While we built a physical structure with cement blocks and concrete, we became the Church as Jesus intended—each of us living stones, built upon one another and cemented together by the Holy Spirit.

Saying our tearful goodbyes and seeing how much of an impact ten days had on everyone.

Singing with the kids at VBS in the park.

Coming home and appreciating simple conveniences like clean tap water, being able to flush toilet paper and drivers who follow traffic rules. Certainly all our houses are luxurious mansions by Dominican standards.

This was my third mission trip to the island of Hispaniola in less than a year. My first trip to the DR and my trip to Haiti were truly life-changing, mountaintop experiences. I confess I expected more of the same this time and struggled with feeling disconnected and disappointed when that didn't happen.

Somehow I ended up being
one of the dirtiest every day!

While I might not have the giddy emotions of past mission trips, I realize emotions are a fickle friend. God's timing may not be my timing, but it's always perfect. There's no telling the good He has done and will continue to do in me personally, in my children, in each of our team members and in our Dominican brothers and sisters.

On church this past Sunday I was thrilled to reunite with my fellow missionaries, all of us wearing our official red t-shirts. As we shared stories with our church family, I was so proud to be part of this amazing group who stepped out in faith, rose above the challenges and became the hands and feet of Jesus. Seeing this experience with fresh eyes was the reminder I needed (one I need all too frequently)—it's not about me!

"In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit." (Ephesians 2:20-21)

Amen!

Added 7/8/10:

Read 1st DR mission trip entry

Read 2nd mission trip entry

Read 3rd mission trip entry

Read 4th mission trip entry

Greetings from the DR...

2010-06-28T22:55:00.001-04:00

Day one on the work site. Welcome to the mud bowl!

Some of the boys... taking a break.


Our 50-person block line.

Seeing some patients at the medical clinic.

Holding VBS in the park for the kids

Added 7/8/10:

Read 1st DR mission trip entry

Read 2nd mission trip entry

Read 3rd mission trip entry

Read 4th mission trip entry

Maravilloso (Marvelous)

2010-06-27T18:27:00.002-04:00

Today is our fifth day—the halfway point--of the trip.

We got a break from construction and conducted an all-day medical clinic. Five Dominican doctors and three of our nurses saw 582 patients in a five-hour span. Patients were seen in family units and for most it was their only opportunity to receive medical care and medications. Even though we could only offer the basics of care, the families were very thankful for even that.

I think about how much we complain about our health care system in the US. Believe me, one day at a clinic here and you’d thank God for the access and resources we have!

After three days on the work site we’ve accomplished so much. We started Friday with a 50+ person cinderblock line…in the street, down the sidewalk, around the corner and onto the work site. Everyone participated--grownups, kids, Dominicans, Americans. In no time at all we moved tons of blocks. At about 40 pounds per block, it was a great show of strength and teamwork.

There’s been something for everyone to do. Cut and bend rebar, use the pick axe, shovel trenches (which seem to be multiplying like loaves and fish), mix concreto and mecla, or play with the kids. My personal favorite has wielding a trowel and bucket of mecla to help build the walls. It’s not a job the Dominicans seem eager to give up, so I’ve been happy to been allowed to help. With so many people working the walls are rising quickly. We have six wall sections started so far.

One thing became evident after our third day on the work site—us Americans are definitely not used to such strenuous work. With aching muscles, sore backs and outright fatigue we were all sagging by the end of the day.

As Anthony said, “You could just look at people’s faces and see how exhausted they were.”

I’m continued to be amazed at how well the kids (Dominican and American) all get along and how resourceful they are. The other day on the work site a group of boys played baseball using a plastic soda bottle filled with rocks and a broomstick…and they had a great time! I haven’t heard a single, “Mom, I’m bored!” In fact the opposite it true, all the kids are engaged and animated—with no TV, computers, cell phones, video games or gadgets. Amazing!

This trip has not been without its challenges…more it seems than last year. We have had several people get sick, including three today. Long hours and general exhaustion have taken a physical toll. An outreach activity last night didn’t go as planned (at all). The devil seems to be trying to get a grasp on this trip. But, I believe God will use it all for good and await to see how that happens.

Even still the Spirit is alive and at work. Revealing Himself in our large and small group devotions. In the intimate one-on-one connections. In shared moments. And times of prayer and worship. Last night we got a big “Wow!” during the service we led at the church in Haina.

On the Haiti trips this spring, Pastor Brony (the pastor of the church here in Haina) introduced some of us to a song wrote, (Maravilloso). Us Americans practiced the song before we came and sang it for Brony and his congregation at the service. As soon as he heard the first few notes, a smile of recognition spread across his face and the faces of his congregation. The tambourine, drums, bongos and “cheese graters” joined in with our guitars as we all sang with incredible joy and enthusiasm.

It’s these moments we treasure. Dios es maravillos. (God is marvelous.)

Tomorrow we’ll run a VBS in the park and then we’ll have a much needed afternoon at the beach! We are ALL looking forward to that and are praying for NO RAIN!

Dios te bendiga!

Added 7/8/10:

Grace Like Rain

2010-06-24T22:41:00.002-04:00

We’re here in Santo Domingo. Safe and sound. It’s the end of our first full day…and our first day on the work site. For those of us who have been here before, it was great to see old friends. Newcomers made friends in no time at all. Now we’re one big, happy bunch. Dominicans and Americans.

If one word could sum up today it was MUD. It’s been raining here for days. The work site looked more like we’re building a swimming pool than a church. Some of the kids actually did swim in the giant muddy pools of water!

Even with all the rain we managed to get a lot done. Trenches were dug. Rebar was cut, bent and tied together. Kids were played with. Piles were shoveled. And even some concrete was poured. We finished the work day tired, soaking wet and incredibly dirty but thrilled for the progress we made and oh, so happy to be here.

The highlight of today was our devotion this evening. We met in small groups first and then joined for large group worship and sharing. It was our first time joined together in this type of gathering. It was great to refocus on our real reason for being here. Besides a sharing powerful singing (us Presbyterians can sing loud when we want to!), we shared a lot of laughter as well.

Our small groups shared their impressions from the day and our trip so far. Here’s what some of the folks said:

I came because my nine-year-old daughter saw the slide show from last year and her young friend was in one of the pictures. She said, “Mom, he was in the DR and he’s MY age! Next year I want to go!” I never thought I’d do something like this, but now my daughter and I are here together.

The thing I feared most was the lack of amenities -- cold shower, really hot weather with no air conditioning and questionable bathrooms. I’m surprised by how none of that bothers me now.

What amazed me the most today was the teamwork. Everybody focused on the goal of the minute. Whatever needed to be done people did. Whether we needed to dig or move a pile of gravel or form a bucket line, we worked as one team. It was so awesome to see!

This afternoon, after lunch it was raining so hard that it looked like we were going to have to leave the work site, but Pastor Brony (our maestro) came to us (as we waited under the shelter of a neighbor’s porch) that it was time to mix concrete. Just like that we started moving stones and mixing concrete. We ended up working the entire day. Even though we were drenched, it was amazing how much work we got done.

It was so cool today how quickly all the kids (Dominicans and Americans) played together. Within moments of us getting off the bus it was like one group of children from little ones to teenagers. It didn’t matter that they didn’t speak the same language. They spoke with balls and bubbles and giggles and gestures. All day long they had fun together. That would NEVER happen at home and it made me so happy to watch.

Tomorrow is another work day. Hopefully the rain will stop, but we will do what we can regardless of the weather. We have some things planned that we’ve never done on these trips before, so I’m excited to see how they turn out. Stay tuned…

Dios te bendiga.

Added 7/8/10:

Go! (aka Just Do It!)

2010-06-23T07:53:00.002-04:00

"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." (Acts 1:8)

By the time you read this all 39 of us missionaries should be cruising at 30,000 feet somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. And by noon I expect we’ll be in the Santo Domingo airport eating corn pizza and drinking Red Rock soda. Aaah, it’ll be good to be home.

When I look at the roster I see such a diverse group ranging in age from six to seventy-something. We have students from kindergarten to college, business executives, nurses, teachers, stay-at-home moms and stay-at home dads, pastors and pastors-to-be. Some are seasoned travelers, others await the first stamp in their freshly-minted passports. Some speak bits of Spanish, but most are English-speaking only. Some travel with confidence in the skills they have to offer—to heal, teach, sing, lead or construct. Others aren’t quite sure what they’re doing here.

I’m pretty sure no one got a good sleep last night, given that nerves were on edge and alarms were set for 2:30 a.m.! By tonight we’ll all be wiped out, punch drunk with fatigue and incredibly hot. But we will have arrived. And we'll be together. Ready to go.

I know God has a plan for each of us here right now. Before we were born He knew we'd be here. He knows exactly how our unique offerings—our personalities, heart and energy—are needed. His strength will cover our weakness. His joy will be our strength. And His grace will be sufficient.

It’s an exciting time…just like the apostle Paul said, "This same Good News that came to you is going out all over the world. It is bearing fruit everywhere by changing lives, just as it changed your lives ...” (Colossians 1:6, NLT)

As Rick Warren says:

The best way to develop Great Commission eyes is to just get up and go on a short-term mission project to another country! There's simply no substitute for hands-on, real life experience in another culture. Quit studying and discussing your mission and just do it! I dare you to dive into the deep end.

It will enlarge your heart, expand your vision, stretch your faith, deepen your compassion, and fill you with a kind of joy you've never experienced. It could be the turning point in your life.”

I couldn't agree with him more!

Please check back for periodic updates during the next ten days and keep us in your prayers.
Dios te bendiga.

Taken last year at the building site. This is where we'll work again.
We'll begin to build a church, plus a school and medical clinic.

One Adventure Ends...and Another Begins

2010-06-21T22:41:00.002-04:00

"But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it." (Matthew 7:14)

Following our guide across one of many bridges. Metaphor anyone?

While I haven’t written much about it, the thrill of our rim-to-rim backpacking trek in the Grand Canyon hasn’t faded. As I’ve excitedly shared stories and pictures, I’ve heard one reaction again and again: “Wow, that's amazing!” Quickly followed by, “I could NEVER do that!”

I usually smile in reply, but think to myself, Yeah you probably could.

I’m not a remarkable person. I didn’t bring any special skills or extraordinary fitness with me into the Canyon. As I see it only three things separate the naysayers from me—a desire to try, some training and a belief that I could do it. (Of course, financial resources and basic health/fitness are also necessary.)

At the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Ready to start our third day.

But it’s a common response, isn’t it? We admire others’ accomplishments that are so far out of our comfort zones and experiences, and we think, “That’s great for them, but I could NEVER do that!” But why do we say this?

Why do we erect fences defining what we can and cannot do?
Why are we so quick to doubt our potential?
How can we be so sure if we’ve never tried?

I have a distinguished history of doing just that—not with physical challenges, but from spiritual ones. Deep down (and not so deep down) I’m a spiritual scaredy-cat.


How'd we get from there (top of picture) to here (bottom of picture)? One step at a time.

During the past eight years I’ve said I could never:

… lead a Bible study.
… pray out loud.
… teach a class.
… go on a hospital sick visit in a ministerial capacity.
… go into a prison
… speak at a podium
… go on a mission trip
… have a story published
… sit with a dying friend
… visit with someone I don’t know, whose language I don’t speak and pray with them.

Each one of these doors I kept firmly closed, but Jesus patiently stood outside knocking, “Will you come out and follow me?” “No!” I replied. But He didn’t go away.

For some reason in each of the above instances I cracked open the door of possibility—and eventually said “yes." But why?

I’m pretty sure it’s not because I’m eager to make a fool of myself (and I'm quite sure I have). It’s not that I felt qualified (usually the opposite is true). And it’s not even that I believed I would succeed. The only thing I know is that in my heart I desire to be a follower— not a sitter-on-the-sidelines—of Jesus. I want to run the race and I want to run it well.

To do this often means training in new and sometimes painful ways. In ways that work neglected muscles, build strength and increase endurance—slowly, one step, one “yes” at a time. As I've traveled, I believe Jesus speaks these words to me, and to all who doubt or hesitate, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Where we are weak, He is strong.

What doors do you have firmly shut with a resolute, "Who me? Never!" Where do you need a new vision to see what's possible? What physical or spiritual muscles need a workout? Jesus is waiting. Will you open the door and follow Him?

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In a little over 24 hours, I’m off on another adventure…another leg of the race. This time I’m headed back to the Dominican Republic for my second mission trip there.

On Wednesday at 3:15 a.m. my kids and I will join 36 others in the parking lot of our church and board a bus bound for Newark airport and ultimately Santo Domingo. Some are “first-timers” who are probably filled with the same anxieties, questions and concerns as I was last year. Others are veteran DR missionaries who are on their sixth, seventh or eighth trips. But all of us are fellow runners who’ve bravely said “yes” to God.

For ten days we’ll continue the work we began last year (building a church in Haina). We’ll conduct medical clinics, home visits and VBS. We’ll reconnect with old friends and make new ones. We’ll sing, worship, pray and play together. And we’ll live in community with one another as we work side by side, mano a mano—living, breathing stones in the body of Christ.

I’m so excited to get there. I’m excited for my kids who are thrilled to be going back. I’m excited to see how God works in us and through us all. Will you pray for us?

I hope to post periodic updates from the house where we’ll be staying. Last I heard the internet was down. Check back throughout our time away.

Not Me, God. I’m Exhausted.

2010-06-16T08:02:00.002-04:00

Last week I was presented with two ministry opportunities. Both are with organizations I believe in, work with and support, and both were unexpected requests. Initially I was flattered to be asked to take a bigger role in each, but when the reality of adding more to my volunteer/ministry plate sunk in, the logical side of my brain screamed, “Are you crazy! The last thing you need is MORE work to do. You’re already doing far more than your fair share!”

The other half of my brain agreed, “Ya’ know, you’re right. Why should I be expected to do more? And how can I fulfill my other obligations if I said ‘yes?’”

That was pretty much my mindset all week. But inside, my spirit felt unsettled and challenged my trigger response. While the world may look favorably upon me if I do my "part," what does God have to say on the matter? Is giving Him my parts enough?

I turned to Scripture for answers. This verse stood out:

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” Luke 12:48

I also discovered that as followers of Christ we are to:

Allow ourselves to be broken and poured out like a drink offering. (Philippians 2:17)
Offer our lives to the Lord as living sacrifices. (Romans 12:1)
Grow in wisdom so we can to discern between what is good and what is BEST. (Philippians 1:10)
Not grow weary from doing good. (Galatians 6:9)
Conduct ourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. (Philippians 1:27)
Run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1)
Glorify God in all we do. (1 Corinthians 6:20; 10:31)

These job descriptions tell me our Heavenly Father doesn’t want part of us, He wants ALL of us. Excuses like, “Later,” “Find someone else,” or “I’m too busy/tired/stressed out,” don’t seem to be biblical responses.

Whenever I need a spiritual wake-up call, I turn to Oswald Chambers. Here's what he has to say:

You have no right to say—“O Lord, I am so exhausted.” He saved and sanctified you in order to exhaust you. Be exhausted for God, but remember that your supply comes from Him. “All my fresh springs shall be in Thee.”

So, there’s my answer. I must never grow weary and I need to say “yes” to every ministry request. Right? Well, that doesn't seem to be the appropriate response either.

The other day I happened upon a blog that helped clarify my thoughts. The pictures in the blog reminded me of my love for these people (which happens to be where one of my ministry opportunities lies). The images rekindled a flame in my heart. My spirit tingled with excitement.

I know that feelings are an unfaithful guide, but God’s given each of us unique gifts, hearts and passions. Shouldn’t these inner promptings direct us to where God’s calling us to serve? It seems that when we serve in these areas, our service isn’t a duty or response to guilt, it’s an act of love for our Heavenly Father who’s given us so much.

With refocused eyes, I reviewed the two ministry opportunities. The first one I have the skills to offer, but no passion for what I’ve been asked to do and it conflicts with my other “kingdom” activities. I feel at peace saying “no.” With the other opportunity, it’s clear God has given me a heart and desire to serve with the organization and the people they minister to. Even tentatively, I must say “yes.”

Part of me wants to selfishly protect my time and serve out of my comfort and convenience. But I hear Oswald Chambers reminding me, "Be exhausted for God." Such exhaustion is a privilege, not a burden.

I’ve been given much and I know that blessing comes with a great responsibility. In my heart I truly want to use all God gave me to bring glory to His name. I recognize that in this season, the demands upon me are great, but I will trust that my strength will come from Him who called me here in the first place.