CELEBRATE This Week: LXV

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

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There's this story that's clinging to my heart. These men are fishing -- all night long they are fishing. It's been a rough night, the catch is nil. It's their livelihood, catching fish, and there's nothing in their nets. 

There's one man on the boat who is feeling pretty rotten; it's more than not catching fish. He denied his friend. Three times before the rooster crowed. One moment he is courageous and brave, professing his faith and his assurance in following his friend down any dark path. And now he's living with the stark realization that at the first test...and the second test...and the third, he denied the relationship.

Dawn is breaking and the men are ready to pull in their nets and try again another night. Then someone from shore calls to them, "Cast your nets on the other side."

It's a simple request. I wonder if they debated whether to listen, after all it was a bad fishing night and they were probably more than a little cranky. They listened anyway. They tossed the nets off the right side of the boat.

They were filled with fish. In an instant, the man on the boat, the one feeling low, Peter, recognizes the man on the shore. He is the man denied. In a brash decision, Peter jumps out of the boat, into the water and wades to shore.

I'm sure he doesn't know what to say, how to act. Here is the man he denied. Peter's standing before his friend, his Savior -- Jesus -- embarrassed and mortified by his previous actions. What should he do?

He drags in the nets and the fish are counted. 153 fish. It is recorded in holy text. Someone counted the fish and there were 153 large fish. That's not the part that is sticking with me, though, at least not this time.

It's this: And although there were so many, the net was not torn.

When we stop to count the celebrations, we find a net that can hold them all. The fisherman listened to Jesus and they were blessed -- 153 large and useful blessings -- and the net was not torn. 

We are not meant to be worn, to be falling apart, to be holding on by threads. Rather, celebration is a net that can hold life together. It will not be torn. It holds strong and wraps around our fragile hearts. 

There is redemption and hope and unconditional love in the rest of the story -- but it all begins by counting the blessings and holding them in a net of celebration.

Loving that you're sharing your celebrations here. Link-up below and invite a friend to join us!

Impossible Friendship

This year I have been given the gift of friendship. I was caught in a trap of believing I wasn't a good friend, that I didn't really have friends, that I was fine without friends. Early in the year, the Lord released me from this ugly snare and has given me many good gifts of friendship.

I am so very thankful.
And a little sad. 
I missed some years of good friendship and I've realized it takes time to clean up the mess.

I hold fast to core of my faith --

God is good. Very good.

And in his abundant goodness, he has blessed me with more friends than I dared to imagine. They have permeated my life as a teacher and coach and writer and speaker and mom and community member and wife and church-goer.

My friends are genuine and real. The relationships go beyond the surface and into meaningful, faith-filled encouragement and support. I'm in awe at the number of friends who care about me. It doesn't seem possible.

They span generations and genders.
They spatter the globe.
The spin into my story and offer solace and goodness.


God reaches down, cups my face and whispers, You are not a friendship failure.

Then, as if he needs to punctuate his point, God does the friendship-impossible.

He restores a long lost friendship.

Being reconnected with Jodi is the over-the-top evidence I needed to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am not a friendship failure.

When I think about the way friendship is thriving in my life, I see the goodness of God. He's been wanting to give me good gifts of friendship, but I was stuck in a trap and unable to receive these gifts. It was scripture that positioned me to receive the gifts of God. Scripture provided clarity. Scripture set me free.

I have the friends to prove it.

Straight from My Notebook

Sometimes life feels like it is too much. We feel BLAH. Overwhelmed. Tired. Tattered.

And it is. It is too much. I can't fix all of the things that go wrong.

I think this is right where Jesus wants us. He never promises that life won't be too much. Suffering happens.  When we are living for Him, we are guaranteed suffering.

So, when life gets overwhelming, what do we do?

1. Rest
2. Move
3. Read Scripture

Instead of drowning in life, I drown in Scripture. God speaks while I read.

Instead of being restless, I rest. God heals while I sleep.

Instead of moving to keep up, I move to exercise. God restores while I move.

These things, coupled with prayer, make a difference. The give me resilience to trust Jesus. He has my best interest in mind. He will not withhold any good thing from me.

And I will not withhold any need from Him.

A Habit of the Soul

I haven't ran for two weeks. A chest cold has grabbed a hold of me and even though I laced up my shoes and thought I could, a coughing spell hit before I reached the end of the driveway.

I long to move, to walk, to run, just a few miles  -- out and back. 

The only reason I long for this is because I'm used to it. I'm used to exercise being a regular part of my routine. Now that it's not happening, I miss it.

Soon, I'll stop wanting to exercise. The routine will be broken and my body won't crave it.

This is true for my soul too.

David's soul thirsts for God because he has a habit of seeking God. The more we seek God, the more we want to seek God. It's a habit our souls crave more and more. If I'm not wanting to seek God, then I know something is amiss in my soul. 

And it can only be solved by seeking God.

A Test of Obedience

Rembrandt [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I have a hard time reading Genesis 22. The part Rembrandt depicts here, I can handle that part of the story. It's the comforting part, the relief part, the it's-all-okay part. It's the whole story before the happy ending that's hard for me.

Genesis 22 is the story of God testing Abraham's obedience. God says, "Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you" (Genesis 22:2).

Even though I know the story well, I always reread this command. It makes me pause because of everything Abraham doesn't do. Abraham doesn't question the goodness of God. He doesn't argue with the command. He doesn't barter or beg.

He simply obeys

I know God is good...but I don't know it like Abraham does.

Abraham's faith makes my faith look like a speck of dust.

He trusted in the goodness of God so much that he was willing to sacrifice his own son.

Without hesitation.
Without apprehension.
Without confusion.

He simply obeys.

And Isaac follows. They travel for three days. Isaac carries the wood for the burnt offering while Abraham brings the fire and the knife.

In the text there is no indication of bitterness or fear. It is pure, radical, rapid obedience.

Isaac questions the lack of an animal for the burnt offering. Abraham replies, "God will provide" (Genesis 22: 7-8). They continue climbing the mountain.

When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built the altar there and laid the wood in order and bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. (Genesis 22:9-10)

No matter how many times I read this holy text, at this point, I still squeeze my eyes shut and think, He's really going to do it.

It's this resolve that landed Abraham a mention in Hebrews 11. There, it is revealed that Abraham believed God would bring Isaac back to life. Abraham never ceased to believe in the goodness of God.

He trusted God so much, that no matter the appointment, he would obey. God needed to know this. It is why he tested Abraham's obedience (v. 1).

And it is why this story is hard for me. God wants our unconditional obedience and he will test it by asking for the things we love most. If I live with a faith like Abraham's, then I know:

God will provide.
God is good.
God loves me.

It wasn't until Abraham raised the knife that God intervened. It wasn't enough for him to gather wood or to start the journey or to build the altar. God wanted to be sure of Abraham's obedience, positive of his heart.

It reminds me of a trust fall -- God style.

At the last moment, God catches Abraham. Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me. Abraham raises his eyes and in the brush is a ram, caught in a thicket by his horns (Genesis 22:12-13).

The Bible is intended to be read as a whole. This story is illuminated in Romans 8:32.

He who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?

It is about radical obedience and trusting God, knowing that God gave up his own son for me. If He is willing to do this, then He is willing to graciously give all things.

We know that for those who love God all things work together for good for those who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

Abraham loved God so much that he simply obeyed. His courage and faith and trust in the goodness of God is inspiring.

I am a Story Collector

I collect stories.

The Bible is filled with really awful, horrible chapters of stories. Hard journeys of deceit and jealousy, murder and rape, exclusions and cover-ups.  If you take one of these chapters and hold it, study it, and try to make sense of it, you could easily miss the truth of Christianity.

The Bible isn't meant to be read as a chapter. It is meant to be read as a whole.

If you only read the chapter of Eve eating the forbidden apple, then you would miss the whole of her story, a beautiful story that tethers the God of creation to Jesus to the Holy Spirit. Eve's story is even part of my story today.

Our lives are the same way. We have horrible chapters in the midst our stories. Chapters of too hard and deceit and mistakes. There is danger in holding on to just a bit of the story.

This is why I am a story-collector and I think you should be one too.

My children have seen the worst of humanity while in biological and foster homes. Our stories are started before we are even born and then they are written moment by moment and breath by breath. Our brains are designed to make sense of the world by telling stories.

We own the stories that help us understand the world.

For a neglected child, the story might go -- No matter how loudly I cry, no one is going to take care of me. The only way to get what I need is to take it myself.

Another story goes like this -- The kids who have always lived in this house are loved the most. They get toys for birthdays and they get to hunt Easter eggs and they get to dress up for Halloween. Since I've just joined the family, I have to sit in my room during the festivities. Families love the kids more who are there the longest.

A story might go like this -- As long as I don't make any noise or eye contact, then I'm safe. They'll leave me alone.

The story can go like this -- If I make a mess, even if it's an accident, I better run away. If I'm not around, then I won't get hit.

Too many kids tell themselves -- I'm too dumb to be loved. I'm too annoying to be loved. I'm too messy to be loved.


Our brains cycle stories over and over in order to make sense of our experiences. Too often, the stories we tell ourselves are untrue. Unfortunately, our brains are unreliable and don't recognize an untrue story. All of the facts have congealed to give a version of the truth and our brains accept it, and make a story to confirm the untruth version of the facts.

I collect stories to document a different version. 

Too often when older children join a family, they are living out the untrue version of their stories. They bring a whole slew of unpleasant behaviors and harsh words. It's important to remember that this is only one chapter of their stories.

And it is an ugly chapter.

A forever family lives the ugly, so the story can be rewritten.

This is a beautiful truth: A story can always be rewritten.

That's what we learn from the ugly chapters in the Bible. The stories don't have to end ugly. David -- a man after God's own heart, a king, and part of the lineage of Jesus -- got another man's wife pregnant, tried to manipulate her husband, and when the husband refused to rest because he felt it was disloyal to his troops who were still in battle, David sent him to the front lines. It was an elaborate murder scheme. Once the man died, he then married his wife and she bore David a son. 2 Samuel 11 is one of those ugly chapters.

I'm glad David's story doesn't end there.


The beauty of the Bible lies in its entirety, just as the beauty of our lives lies in the whole journey. The story isn't finished and it doesn't have to be stuck in the ugly.

I pile stories as proof that a life doesn't have to be stuck in the ugly. I gather celebrations so they don't slip into the shadows. I muster the moments because together they help me to learn to love more.

I am a story collector so others can live a more beautiful version of their own story.

A Birthday Miracle with Donuts

"You're not going to believe this," Stephanie said at dinner tonight, then continued her story.

"After I finished passing out donuts to all of the kids in my homeroom and to Mrs. Collett, I was so excited about passing them out to other teachers, that I was in a hurry. So I went around and gave them all away. Everyone loved them. They really are the best donuts.

"Then I got back to my desk, all that was there was a napkin and no donut. I forgot to give myself a donut!"

I laughed, an all-out belly laugh. "Are you for real? You didn't get one of your own birthday donuts?"

She blushed and shook her head. "But Mrs. Collett shared some of her donut with me. I got half of one."

"Really? You forgot to give yourself a donut?" I was in complete disbelief.

Steph laughed. "I know, Mom. I forgot."

It's been seven years that we have battled with Stephanie about not having to always be first. Stephanie survived in life before she came home to our forever family by getting things first. She fought for first and biggest. Always.

Sometimes it's important to let others be first. There have been battles and fights and tears as we've helped her to learn being first isn't the most important.

At the same time, we've prayed that we wouldn't crush her independent spirit. Her strong-will has the potential to be beautiful and we didn't want simple compliance. We wanted to empower her to care about others and to realize life, when lived best, isn't about what you can get for yourself.

When we were buying the donuts for her to take to school, she insisted on her favorite kind. She insisted on the big donuts. She insisted on having extras to give away.

Forgetting herself because she was so excited to give donuts away is a miracle. I don't use this word lightly. Really, a miracle occurred in her homeroom class today.

Stephanie forgot about herself because of her acts of kindness to others.

I wasn't sure this would ever happen, that Steph would think about others before herself.

Jay was the catalyst for Stephanie's healing. He has helped her to see the power of putting others before yourself. He has helped her to accept the truth that when you think of others first, your life gets better

Stephanie is remarkable, not to mention spunky and carefree and hilarious.

When I think about her journey of learning to care for others, I think we get a glimpse of what Jesus intended when he said:

If any of you want to be my follower, you must stop thinking about yourself and what you want. You must be willing to carry the cross that is given to you for following me. Any of you who try to save the life you have will lose it. But you who give up your life for me will find true life. It is worth nothing for you to have the whole world if you yourself are lost. (Matthew 16:24-26)

 This is not an easy command. It goes against our human nature. We want easy, comfortable, first, and best. 

But this isn't what is most important to Jesus. To follow Jesus, we must deny ourselves and serve others. Next time I see a big glazed donut, I'm going to remember Steph and how sweet it is to persevere on a journey to learn to serve rather than to take.

{Birthday Dinner}

What's First?

Stephanie lost her temper and the large canister of zip ties used to secure Christmas decorations spiraled across the room. Hundreds of zip ties were strewn from the foot of the stairs to the front of the fireplace. While she screamed and stomped away, I hastily shoved handfuls of zip ties back into the canister.

They didn't fit.

It looked like a shrewd cactus standing in the middle of a game of Pick-Up-Sticks. She'll pick them up when she simmers down. The thought of her completing this tedious task may have felt like sweet justice.

Later, Steph sat on the floor picking up hundreds of zip ties. Methodically she organized them by size. Then, starting with the biggest ties, she began filling the canister. In the end, she stuffed the smallest zip ties into the empty spaces.

All of them fit.

Watching her, I was reminded how I want to live this holiday season and every other day of the year. I want to take the biggest, most important things each day and put them in first. Then everything else will just seem to fit.

I'm often asked, "How do you do it all?"

The honest answer: I don't.

But I do make an intentional decision about my first of the day. This is the way I get the most out of each day.

My first of the day goes to Jesus. I've learned to wake up saying, I love you, Jesus. Then I swipe off my alarm, grab my glasses, and open Scripture on my phone. Sometimes I open Scripture before I grab my glasses, the screen touching my nose so I can see the sacred text. Often I open scripture before I turn on the light.

Even when I've hit snooze too many times, I still read a verse of holy text.

I've learned the hard way that if I don't do this first, if I don't begin with adoration and scripture and a small prayer, then nothing else fits into the day. I'm feeling like that canister of overflowing zip ties, standing in the middle of a Pick-Up-Stick game.

The day becomes a mine field and I'm a prickly soldier.

One simple act and the entire day changes from rushed to relaxed, from dark to light, from stress to joy. It's not about having enough time. It's about deciding what goes in first to your day. Try it. See what happens if the first thing you read each day is Scripture.

Don't water down the power by going for something inspirational instead of biblical. Do a true test. Read a verse of Scripture -- use a Bible app or open to Psalms or Proverbs or James or 1 Thessalonians or anywhere and read a few holy words.

I've found when I fit Jesus in first each day then all of the must-dos and want-to-dos just seem to fit. And when they don't, well, it's easier for me to accept that perhaps my plan just isn't the way it's going to go. Either way, I'm better off for putting first the One who is biggest in life.

Notice {Five Minute Friday}

Go.

The world notices Jesus. Even when we're busy, doing things that make us happy, taking care of all the things that need done, making the most of life, finding ourselves, posting on Facebook, tweeting that, instagraming this, the world still notices Light.

It is a shine that cannot be hidden, cannot be covered, cannot be dimmed.

I've wrestled with learning to live with rapid obedience and radical faith, while trying to stay out of the shine. It's impossible. People will always notice the lights of the world.

Humility is not about living in the shadows, but living bold and radical. The world will notice. I  check if pride is festering in my heart by whether the world notices me or the good work of Jesus. When the One who gives Light and makes us shine is glorified, then I know my heart is pure and my work is good.


Stop.

Join Five Minute Friday here.

Too Much

It's too much. Sometimes life gets to be too much. Then someone, well-intentioned, trying to offer encouragement and support says, "God doesn't give you more than you can handle." If it were true, I might be comforted.

But it's not truth.

Life is too much to handle. And this is okay.

Totally okay.

Now the world doesn't want me to think it's okay. The world wants me to think I'm a big failure because I can't handle everything that comes my way. The world tells me I'm not good enough if I can't keep up with the laundry and pickup the kids on time and have a home cook meal steaming on the table at dinner time and get through showers without someone (maybe me) having a major meltdown.

There are all these things I'm supposed to be able to do to be counted as a good mom, a good educator, a good wife, a good friend, a good daughter, a good sister. I can't keep up with it all. It is too much.

I've been reading and rereading about the time in Gethsemane before Jesus was betrayed and started on the journey to crucifixion. Jesus was in agony there in the garden. He did not want to do what he was called to do. He asked for a way out. It was too much -- way too much.

We are not promised that life will not be too much to handle. (The scripture that tends to be misunderstood refers to temptation -- there will always be a way to run away from temptation. Suffering and the circumstances of life, though, that's another story.) We are not promised easy and comfortable.

This week I'm wiped out. It's the time of year when things get hard -- super hard -- for a couple of our kids. Their emotions are close to the surface, ready to burst at any moment (many moments, in fact). The work at school is more than I can handle. I keep dropping the ball. I have too many unanswered emails waiting in my inbox. Andy has been with his dad (who is a very blessed man and was able to come home today).

It's too much, but it doesn't mean God made a mistake.

Isn't it when things get to be too much that we see the power of Jesus?

I wish there wasn't a need for adoption. Unfortunately we live in a world where children are hurt by the people who are supposed to care for them. God calls us to stand in the gap, to take care of orphans. To make families for the fatherless.

It's too much for anyone to do. It's too much for me, it's too much for you -- but we hang in there because we turn to God, who is mighty and strong -- and we learn what it means to be part of the body of Christ, serving and loving and encouraging one another as we walk a journey that is too hard. 

Too much and too hard are indicators of a life well-lived. They are indicators of radical faith. I'm coming to believe that when we are in the will of God, life is too much to handle.

And this is okay. Because it is here, in the midst of too hard, that we find too much joy and too much peace and too much grace and too much love.

It is the love of a great big God that is too much to handle.

 

Today I'm linking up with Holley Gerth for Coffee for Your Heart. It's a link-up where you pour a little encouragement out with your words and then share it with the rest of the community. Even if you don't try it, hop over and enjoy a little encouragement for your soul.

The World Hurts. God Heals.

We had a little family photo shoot this weekend. Just some woods, my tripod, and the self-timer on my camera.This one was totally unplanned. They were waiting (and waiting and waiting and waiting) for the boys, there on the blanket and I said, "Girls, look at me." Click.

It might be my very favorite shot. I keep looking at it, wondering how they suddenly became these girls who I respect so much. 

Six years ago, they changed my life. I look at this photo taken six months after they came home, and remember how hard -- so very hard -- it was to become their momma.

Those two, they totally reinvented me.  They had lived a  lifetime without me and learned all kinds of things little girls shouldn't have to learn. They learned to depend on themselves; to defend themselves; and to be completely self-sufficient. At the age of four, Hannah scavenged for food and found safe places for them to curl up and sleep. Stephanie fully potty trained herself before she was one. One! 

They are survivors, harboring a resilience and strength some women will never know, and no little girl should ever have to learn.

The thing is, life is full of things that shouldn't happen.  Mommas who would rather drink than work. Little girls who dig food out of trash cans. Dads who leave families for a different woman.

I can spend my life wondering why unfair things happen, trying to figure out how, if God is just and loving, why families are broken and little girls sad.

Or I can decided to make a difference.

God doesn't make resilient and strong daughters without making a resilient and strong momma too. There were times -- too many if I'm scary honest -- that I didn't think I was enough for them. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know how to get the fits to stop. I didn't know how to break through the apathy. And no matter what I decided to do, it never seemed like it was right. There are still times I wonder if I'm enough.

Until I saw this picture.

And I realized something right must have happened during all of that time when I was worried about whether I was enough for them. The truth is, I'm not enough. Their needs are too big; their hurts are too deep. I can't heal them. I look at them, these girls who beat the odds, and I know to my bones that God is enough. I rest in the truth that God doesn't make mistakes, either

He made me to be their mother.

He made them to be my daughters.

And the plans God makes are unstoppable. He is good, always good. I look at that photo and I know the truth of God's goodness. Since I know the history behind the girls in the photo, I also know the hurt of a fallen world. 

But when it is all put together, when I linger longer and I think about what it means to love more when it's hard to love a little...when I think about the hurt of the world and how hard it is to set things right...when I think about doing the impossible, it all adds up to Romans 8:28.

In all things, God works for the good of those who love him. 

It really is this simple. The world hurts. God heals. If you need to proof, then you should meet my daughters.

Put Out Into Deep {Coffee for Your Heart}

I've been thinking about Peter, the fisherman. Do you know how he moved on from being the fisherman? I like to imagine that it was at the end of an ordinary fishing day, although it might have been a bad day. His boat was empty and he was washing his nets when Jesus asked him to take him out on the water, a little ways from the land.

Peter did and Jesus taught the crowd from the boat. When he finished speaking, he said to Peter, "Put out into deep and let down your nets for a catch."

An eye roll isn't caught in the holy text, but I wouldn't be surprised if that's what Peter did. He had already been out and it wasn't a good fishing day. In fact, it was a long day. Peter respoded, "Master, we toil all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets."

So Peter tossed his nets out in the deep. They were filled with so many fish that the nets began breaking. They collected enough fish to fill two boats and the boats threatened to sink from the weight of the fish.

When Peter saw the catch, he fell at Jesus' knees. Peter was astonished and he knew he didn't deserve the abundant catch.

And it was right here that Jesus changed Peter's life. At the end of a a long day at work there was a miracle and an abundant catch. Peter didn't feel worthy. Jesus looked at Peter, maybe even cupped his hand around his jaw, and said, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men."

And do you know what Peter did? In that moment he left his old life as a fisherman and picked up a brand life path.

I'm moved by the way Jesus tells Peter to put the nets out in the deep. It's a long shot. It doesn't make sense. It's beyond the parameters of a good fishing spot. Yet Peter does it anyway. He casts out his net into the deep. And because Jesus is lavish, there are so many fish the nets are tearing and the boats are sinking.

Peter's obedience is rewarded. He learns to trust Jesus, even when Peter "knows better."

I'm moved even more by the way Jesus takes who Peter was -- a fisherman -- and uses it as a building block, as a knowledge base, as a way to launch him into a new calling. In essence, Jesus is saying, "You know fishing, so take what you know and fish for men."

Today might be an ordinary day, just like Peter's day, starting out just like any other day. It might even be an ugly day, a day when you're not sure you're cut out for the work before you. That's okay. Because whatever you are right now, God plans to use it to launch you into whatever is next. It might not be right now or next week or next year. It might be many years from now, but it's all part of a bigger picture.

And that makes it all worth tossing caution into the deep and following God with rapid obedience.

 

Today I'm linking up with Holley Gerth for Coffee for Your Heart. It's a link-up where you pour a little encouragement out with your words and then share it with the rest of the community. Even if you don't try it, hop over an enjoy a little encouragement for your soul.

Love is a Choice

This necklace from Elsie serves as a reminder to choose love.

Love is a choice.

There are days when the choice to love is much more difficult (and a whole lot less appealing) than the choice to be annoyed or turn my back or just give up. Sometimes the choice to love is the harder choice.

Let love be genuine.

Abhor what is evil.

Cling fast to what is good.

Paul inked these sacred words in Romans 12. The truth of the matter is genuine love is hard. It's a breathe in and breathe out choice over and over and over. But the rest of the truth is I am never, not-ever, sorry when I choose love.

I think Paul was talking about celebration when he wrote, Cling fast to what is good. It's about holding tight to the good -- finding the celebration in the thick of the trouble -- and clinging fast, with white knuckles.

It's celebration that saves.

Chances are, right now there's a relationship in your life that's hard. We're human and it's inevitable that there is a person (maybe a spouse or maybe a daughter or maybe a friend or maybe someone else) who is hard to love. There's someone like that right now in my life. And tomorrow there will be someone and next week there will be someone. We are called to love. If I let love be genuine, then I find the celebrations...

And I cling fast to what is good.

Living with a Radical Faith

I earned myself a speeding ticket yesterday.

Zipping along a beautiful stretch of road that winds between two lakes, there's a small town with a bait shop, a church, and a speed trap. As I'm reciting the scripture I'm trying to memorize and admiring the crisp sky, I spot a state trooper in the church parking lot.

I hit my brakes, glance at my speedometer, and pull over at the same time he pulls out and turns on his swirly lights.

He didn't say hello, even though I did. I handed over my license and registration. He turned on his heel and headed back to his car.

Five years ago I got a ticket in this exact same spot. I know better.

And yet, there I was in the exact same place.

When the officer returned with the ticket, I made sure to look him in the eyes. He told me the speed he clocked me at, and I tipped my head, drawing my eyebrows together. He wasn't correct. I was going at least 10 miles faster. It still was 19 miles over the posted speed.

I nodded, acknowledging his directions, and said, "Thank you."

I opened my wallet to return my driver's licensed and added, "Have a good afternoon."

The words were genuine, but I doubt he heard them. He was already walking back to his car. I couldn't stop myself from thinking how he was one grumpy officer.

Circumstances shouldn't have led me to be the kind one in this exchange. After all, it wasn't like he was the one who now had to pay a ticket instead of buying a new pair of cute boots.

Maybe I wasn't in the exact same place after all.

As I relayed the story to a friend, she said, "Wow! What a nice police officer. Over 20 would have led you to more points on your license and been a big deal to insurance. You're really lucky."

Her perspective helped turn mine.

Paul writes: For God works in you both to will and to work for his good pleasure. Do all things without grumbling or disputing... This is the scripture I was learning to memorize when I was pulled over.

I could see the irony, rolling my eyes: Now do this one thing without grumbling.

The ticket is meaningless in the grand scheme of things. My response, however, holds great purpose. I might have been the only person, all day, all week, all month, who said thank you. I may have been the first one in a long time to look him in the eyes.

If I've decided to live this life for all I'm worth with a radical faith, then it's these moments of irony that give me a chance to live out my beliefs.  Just because it was rotten to be caught in a speed trap, doesn't mean that I can't still be used to make the world a better place.

(I just won't be doing it with new boots!)

Show Up

Bird Watching

There’s this robin that’s always having a worm snack on the corner of our deck railing. It’s become the expected view out of the kitchen window. No matter when you look, there she is perched with a worm dangling out of her beak. Sometimes I pause to see if she eats the worm. She never does. I’ve been wondering if maybe it’s the same worm, kinda like when I was little and put my gum on my bedpost at night and then popped it back in my mouth the next morning. Thirteen straight days one piece of gum lasted, and then I started again with a fresh piece. Does she stick the worm under the railing and then pluck it out and start chewing again?

At first, when we saw her we would call for the rest of the family. “Guys! Come look at this!” Everyone would come running and watch and smile a little at the view (or feel sorry for the worm).

After a few days, she didn’t seem so remarkable anymore. I began wondering who was going to clean up her mess and how we could keep her away from the deck. I stopped noticing the varying shades of red on her breast and the black tip on the end of her yellow beak. I stopped asking questions about the worm. The robin became commonplace.

Then one day, coming home from a run, I noticed a mound of twisted orange fuzz and black feathers pointing in all the wrong directions. My eyes went where my heart wanted to avoid. There, on the edge of the road, was a lump of robin.

Is it my robin? The thought tumbled through my mind and surprised me when it caught in my throat. I slowed down and walked past the feathers, wondering if I would recognize my robin. Would I notice the way she was rust near the top of her breast and cinnamon toward the center? Would I see the way her feathers lightened near her left eye? The only thing I knew for sure was the lump of bird at my toes was forming a lump in my throat.

Now there’s a void in my view from the kitchen window and a hole in my heart that doesn’t make sense. I didn’t want that pesky robin hanging around the deck in the first place. I told her to go find a new place to chew on her worm, the worm I felt sorry for, because, of all the worms out there, how did that one get to be so particularly unlucky?

I shouldn’t miss my robin. All she did was show up, but somehow it mattered. It makes me think that maybe I spend too much time planning what I should do, and I miss the thing that matters most.

You just show up and then figure out what to do after you’re there. Sometimes the problems in the world seem so big and when I try to think through to a solution, I can’t find a plan. Instead of showing up, I’m still trying to figure out what to do.

I think it’s this very conundrum that James was talking about when he wrote: What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? 

I’m not even sure it matters what you do. The robin chewed on a worm and it changed me. Rather than trying to figure out a plan to change the world, I think I just need to show up and do something -- a little something to make one corner of the world a little bit better.

Simply by showing up and doing whatever needs to be done.

{James 2:14-26}

Mission Story {40 of 40 Stories}

Click here for the backstory.

I’m not sure how I missed a story during Lent – I was surprised when I realized one was missing early last week. I didn’t know it was skipped. Maybe I should just leave it missing, because then 40 Stories doesn’t have to end. It’s not missing, though. It’s right here. Tonight I write Number 40. 

The end that is actually a beginning.

I’m beginning to think in wisps around ideas of adoption and faith. There are voices that have returned, leaving threads of ideas for me to tug. These are the voices that demand I write write write. These are the voices I hear when I write fiction, characters arguing and demanding and insisting – the voices of the story world.

This time it isn’t fiction. It is real life. It is still a story world. 

And it is waiting for me.

Here I am, holding out a feeble offering of story only to get it handed back to me. I’ve been giving 40 Stories this Lenten season, and I find out how I can’t out-give God. 

There is a story world waiting for me. The discipline of 40 Stories was practice and training ground for the next writing project. It is faith and action coming together, tailored just for me.

It is written in James 2 --

Don't you remember that our ancestor Abraham was shown to be right with God by his actions when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? You see, his faith and his actions worked together. His actions made his faith complete. And so it happened just as the Scriptures say: "Abraham believed God, and God counted him as righteous because of his faith." He was even called the friend of God. So you see, we are shown to be right with God by what we do, not by faith alone.

I feel so...loved. I didn't know this was what would happen until I was in the middle of this story. Number 40 and God gives back to me more than I can fathom.

I get to write and find my way through a real live story world as a means of putting my faith in action. God is good to me.

Easter Traditions {39 of 40 Stories}

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I woke up on this Easter morning, with these words of Jesus wrapped around me: “I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying. Everyone who lives in me and believes in me will never ever die.” (John 11:25-26, NLT)

It feels like an Easter of broken traditions, and there is a little sting pricking at my heart. We decided to take this weekend as our annual get-a-way with my parents and brother’s family. One yes always means a million noes.

No to Easter service.

No to Easter pictures.

No to Easter breakfast with our church family.

No to Easter dinner with the Ayres family.

No to the Annual Ayres Easter Egg Hunt.

No to waking up to jelly beans on the nightstands.

No to Easter baskets on the kitchen table.

No to Easter surprises from my parents that always show up while we are gone on Easter day.

In an almost-feeling-guilty stage, I stop myself and ask: What is the tradition you want your children to grow up and remember? Love. I want them to have the tradition of love. 

Loving more.

Loving through the hard.

Loving family.

Loving friends.

Loving strangers.

Loving imagination.  

Loving because Jesus first loved us.

This is the tradition I hope we live on Easter and every other day of the year.

Jesus’ words are much more than tradition.  They are the truth of our faith, the reason we love. This Easter, we are living the truth of Jesus outside of the church building, outside of our traditions. This is how holidays, and this most holy of all holidays, becomes more than a date and more than a series of traditions. It’s about the choices we make to love – loving family and friends and strangers and ourselves. It’s learning that the more we love Jesus, the more we are able to love others. This is the tradition worth keeping – learning to love more.