A few weeks ago I talked about being in the rough. About feeling like I was lost but at the same time mere feet from where I wanted to be, where I knew I needed to be.
Last weekend I went home, a quick little vacation to reconnect with myself. This weekend I reconnected with those around me.
Last weekend my Friday night consisted of family dinner and bed time snuggles. This weekend it was a warm dinner on a cold night alongside some great friends and catching up on our favorite shows. A low key night for Halloween while texting with my family.
Last weekend my Saturday was a pumpkin patch with my nieces and goddaughter and one on one time with my mom. This weekend it was a craft/nails/netflix day with a new friend who feels like an old friend.
I’ve always been really tentative with friends. Letting people in has always been hard for me, but not letting people in is harder on me. That’s why I’ve become pickier with who I choose to let in, who I allow to be in my inner circle.
I was once told that when Jesus compared us to sheep it wasn’t always a positive thing. Often times sheep get packed in close together and end up biting one another. The person sharing this wisdom told me that when sometimes as human we bite each other – we cause pain accidentally, because we are imperfect people. We’re just sheep being sheep.
In relationships, we bite one another. Sometimes accidentally, sometimes not so accidentally. This is why relationships are so hard, sinful people hurt other sinful people. We rely on the grace of God to fill in the gaps, to help us to forgive and try not to get hurt again. We need God to help protect our hearts and to give us guidance along the way.
In ministry, it’s important to surround yourself with safe people. People who you can be real with and who you can let in. It’s for that reason that I’m so unbelievably thankful for my friends. For those I spent this weekend with, for my Best Friend, for Roomsmate. For My People in CO. Thank you all for standing by me and for walking this path with me. Thank you for being my circle of trust.
it's hard to get around the wind
I attended a meeting at my home church while in town last week and all of the parents in the meeting corresponded with moments in my first few years of ministry experience.
Two sets of parents whose kids I taught in Sunday School when I was a teenager.
A handful of sets of parents whose kids were in the 5th and 6th grade program that I ran in my first internship.
One parent who fit in both the above and had a daughter I was in youth group with.
Before the meeting started one parent gave me a huge hug and said to me, “My son still has hanging in his room a note that you wrote him when you left here and every time I see it I think about you and wonder how you’re doing.” She asked where I was and I filled her in on the details.
But her statement kind of stuck to me. Her son was in 6th grade when I left. He was a staple at our gatherings with his best friend but was really shy and rarely talked to me. I never would imagine that he would still have that little note I wrote him all these years later. Now he’s a junior in high school. still a staple in their youth group, sings on their worship team. Like most my former students I get to see his life unfold via Facebook posts of our mutual friends.
In ministry, there are no guarantees. There are days filled with heart bursting joy, there are days filled with heart breaking sorry. And there are days that fit squarely in between those two extremes.
But some days you get the exact reminder you need that you’re still called to walk this journey with people when those days come you thank the Lord for his provision and strength.
You give me peace like a river
I’ve written about Shalom on here before right? I mean the title of this blog is Striving for Shalom. It’s a concept that I am deeply DEEPLY in love with. A wholeness – a oneness with God that he intended for his people, promises us at the end of our days and that Christ gave us through the Holy Spirit after his resurrection in John’s account of his life. It’s a beautiful almost lyrical word that rolls off my tongue with all of its hope and complexity.
It’s a word that I love, a concept that I want to shout from the roof tops – THIS IS WHAT GOD INTENDED FOR YOUR LIFE!!!!
And this week I’m charged with teaching this word to our children at church. As I process it out I think of all the words I use to describe Shalom, all the hints to how broken the world is that most adults know and understand all to well. I think of explaining Shalom from the point of brokenness – as a contrast to the world we already know.
But Kids?! They probably understand Shalom far better than we do. They probably can remember a moment in time that they have felt this complete wholeness – all of their needs and wants met. They’ve probably experienced it in the last month, week or even day.
I think of my nieces. The Eldest would not describe her life as perfect – she has an annoying little sister who is always reeking havoc on her life. Mini Monster steals her toys, throws things, breaks things and is entirely too loud for Eldest’s taste.
Mini Monster would probably describe her life as perfect, except for when she is being told that she cannot have one of her sister’s toys. Or when she is told she cannot smother the new Baby with her kisses and hugs. Her day is full of craziness, noise and chaos. She may love this noise and chaos, I would hope so considering she is the one who creates it.
But then I think of the other moments in Mini Monster or Eldest’s lives that are full of peace. For Eldest it’s when Mini Monster is sleeping and she gets everyone’s attention to herself. She lies on the couch with her head in my lap. As I stroke her hair I watch her silently drift off to sleep. She feels fully protected, comforted, safe… she is at peace.
For Mini MOnster these moments are rare. She has a much more outgoing personality. Her peaceful moments come when she is surrounded by her loved ones. Squeezed in between my mom and me being tickled and giggling. There’s a moment for Mini Monster right after she has exhausted herself with laughing and being silly when she takes a deep breath and nuzzles deeper between us with a big grin across her face. She feels fully loved, content, supported … she is safe.
Then there’s the Baby. Her peace at times seems much more easy to attain. She wants to be clean, fed and warm. When she was first born she just wanted to be held. If we put her down for any length of time she would cry and cry. But as soon as we picked her up and held her close she would calm down. She just needed to know that she was not alone, she would feel the warmth of whoever was holding her, feel the heartbeat of that person and be content. She feels fully protected, her needs met …she is at peace.
Shalom is all about the fullness of peace. The promise of Jesus is that we have access to that peace now. That yes, Shalom was what was intended for us and what we have to look forward to in heaven but that it is also a gift from him now, in the midst of this world.
So for a kid, whose world is, for the most part, carefree, maybe the promise of Shalom is enough. If they can identify what it looks like to them, maybe it’s enough for them to grow up hearing over and over again that Shalom is available to them now.
my sin upon his shoulder
I asked our Kids’ Club class if they knew what happened on Palm Sunday – what are we celebrating?
“JESUS DIED!!!!” – screamed by more than one of them.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, not yet, that’s what we are celebrating on Good Friday. Does anyone remember what happened before that?”
“WAIT!” one of our third grade girls has that look on her face that she gets when she is processing something. I can almost see her flipping through the storybook in mind, trying to remember the story she’s been told before – “Is it the day that Jesus rode the donkey?”
I grin back at her and nod my head, “That’s right! And does anyone remember the name of the town?” In my mind this question was going to go unanswered. I didn’t expect them to pull that long name out of their memories but as happens most of the time in this classroom, they surprise me.
“JERUSALEM!!”
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“I have a hard time celebrating Good Friday.”
It was almost like a whisper, a quiet confession to his wife and me. We had been reflecting on how great of a morning it was at church. Such a joyful celebration of Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem. And looking forward to Good Friday – a service that is near and dear to our hearts as Pastors of this church.
We didn’t respond right away, then we tried to acknowledge the admitted truth while still holding our excitement. Yes, it’s the sad part of the story but it means so much to us as followers of Christ. He continues his train of thought, “I mean it would be a tragic story even if it was a no name person on the cross – but it’s Jesus.”
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The palpable excitement that I felt from the kids as they shouted “Jesus dies!!” may seem disheartening. It may seem like an inappropriate response. But its not. I don’t think they have really felt the weight of what it means for Christ to die not only for us but because of us. Because of the Sin that is present in all of us. For the children it is a disconnect, they know that sin is the problem Christ died to fix but they don’t connect that with themselves. It happened so long ago, it’s just a fact they can rattle off about their faith but their personal experience of sin is limited.
But we all grow up. We all eventually realize what sin is, we feel the effects of it when its used against us. We feel the failure of falling short when we sin ourselves. Then we see that Christ died for us because of this sin, to solve the problem of sin in our lives and it simultaneously breaks our hearts and gives us hope.
That’s the scandalous nature of the crucifixion. The idea that the Lord of Heaven and Earth would come to earth, live a perfect life and then die for humanity. The penalty for sin is death and he takes it upon himself.
But the story doesn’t end there, on the third day He rises again. He is the Risen Lord, beating death so that we may have life. This truth is what we need to cling to rather than the sting of his death for and because of us. We must hold steadfast to the hope of the resurrection, it’s what can keep us going in a world where we are surrounded by sin and brokenness.
oh, how he loves
“Human love is attracted to beauty.
God’s love creates beauty from nothing,
where there would have been ugliness otherwise.”
This is the week that pastors from all over the denomination gather together for community, learning and to be challenged. I cannot believe it has been a year since I was beginning the call process and meeting with our denominational leaders to tell them what my dreams were for my future in ministry. And then to be here this year, realizing that my call at my church is both nothing and everything I dreamt of in those conversations. It is amazing to see how God has worked in the past year, sliding things around and creating something out of nothing.
Our theme for this week is found in Ephesians 4 and this morning a former professor of mine spoke the words written at the top of this post. Before the service this morning I sat down for a few moments with a dear friend and mentor of mine and he told me that my life was like a legacy of who God is, that looking at my life – God’s hand was clear. Then I heard these words. As a pastor, I have never felt sufficient enough to love his people the way God has, and this quote gave me words to understand why. It is because I am human, I cannot love the way that he loves his people. But when I look back on my life, on where God has brought me – his love for me is undeniable. He has created this beautiful life around me out of nothing and even though I am human and merely attracted to beauty. I pray that he gives me sight beyond my biases, that he would love others through me.
it reminds me, I already have more than I should
“Many people say, ‘who will show us better times?’
Let your face smile upon us, LORD.
You have given me great joy
than those who have abundant harvests of grain and new wine.
In peace I will lie down and sleep
for you alone, O LORD, will keep me safe.” Psalm 4:6-8
I sometimes feel like the good and challenges of life are like a balancing act. At any moment the scale can tip in the other direction. It’s the nature of this broken life we have here on earth. And sometimes it’s never more evident to me than during this Christmas season.
Last weekend the church where I work voted to call me as a Pastor. It’s amazing news, an amazing affirmation of who God has created me to be. I love this congregation, I love our little city and I love doing ministry with our staff. It’s been a little while in the making and now that it’s finally public and official (after the first of the year), I am rejoicing.
Two days before this great news became official and public, I received devastating news of the death of a former classmate and sister in Christ. I was finishing an amazing 4 day vacation in NYC with Pastor and upon checking Facebook, I realized something was very very wrong. I did some research and discovered the terrible truth.
It’s the constant struggle between how good life can be and the possibility of the sting when an earthly life ends. I’ve found myself going back and forth between the joy of having a call and feeling finally like I know where my life seems to be heading and the deep hurt of mourning the loss of a friend. As well as the remembrance of losing my father four years ago.
In this season, when there is joy and cheer around us at all times, when we are surrounded by lights and the bustle of the Christmas season, let us not forget that the Christ child that we are celebrating came to rescue us. Came to reside with us in the joyful times yes, but also in the times of deep despair.
The shepherds, Mary and Joseph, the Magi – they all understood this fact. They knew the history – Israel had been LONGING for deliverance for years. They were experiencing deep despair, they knew what it meant to suffer. And this child – this baby that was to be found wrapped in swaddling cloths, in a manger – was sent from heaven to restore all that had been broken.
Hope.
That’s what they found in the manger. But it’s important to remember- they found a baby. I can only imagine the confusion, there was no plan. No revelation of how exactly this little baby boy was going to bring about restoration. But they saw the evidence of God’s hand in that manger and they believed in that hope. They fell down and worshiped even though they didn’t know how this baby was going to be the answer to their despair.
So I find myself continuing to fall down at His feet, even though I see the pain and sorrow of this world. I cling on to the hope found in the manger. And I rely on the glimpses that I get of God’s work in my life and the lives of my loved ones.
And I will pray. Pray for the peace of the Lord.
just a ghost that broke my heart before I met you
There’s a song by Laura Marling called Ghosts. This posts’ title is a line from that song. It’s a song about a boy going to a girl and divulging all of the “ghosts” that broke his heart before they had met. He’s opening up to her in hopes for a chance at relationship and her response is, “Lover, please do not fall to your knees, it’s not like I believe in everlasting love.”
I’ve always like this song, mostly because her voice is so unique and haunting, but also just because musically it’s a phenomenal song. It has all the things that make a song good for me: unexpected harmonies, a good drum track, piano, added touches that really drive it home. But the lyrics are so sad that it’s always been conflicted.
But lately I’ve been talking a lot about community. And last night when this song came through my car speakers I realized it was more true than I thought.
In all of the talking I’ve been doing about community I keep coming down to the same fact: friendship is hard. Community is meant to be deep and lasting, but because it is deep, it’s a huge risk for pain. And often, when (not if) that pain happens, it leaves a mark.
The thing I’ve recently realized about myself is that I have a lot of those marks. Friendships that ended and couldn’t be fixed. Because in a perfect world we would be able to get over our differences, both apologize and be able to reconcile. But we don’t live in a perfect world, and sometimes our brokenness and immaturity can hinder the process of reconciliation. So what we end up with is a ripped seam that never quite looks the same again.
And that was me, about a year ago. I didn’t realize that I had become this hard person who didn’t really believe that I was meant to have deep, lasting friendships. I thought I’d always be on the fringe, that the ghosts that had broken my heart in my past had caused me to no longer believe in the ability to have meaningful relationships.
But I was wrong. Oh man I was wrong. And the only reason I found out I was wrong was that I suddenly had three women who were deeply invested in me and I was (shockingly) deeply invested in them. I realize that sounds like one day I woke up and they were there but that’s how it felt. I recently received some good news and upon sharing it with them, their reactions made me realize that I suddenly had “my people.”
But I had to learn a lot of lessons about community along the way. I realized that if I have a small number of people who really know me and love me on a deeper level, then I have more capacity for others outside of that “inner circle.” Because I’ve been learning that we each have personalities and limitations when it comes to friendships, so we aren’t (and shouldn’t be) able to be on a deep level with a lot of people. We have to have tiers, which again – sounds awful but I think it’s really healthy. And I think that if we were honest about the reality that we aren’t all super deeply close, then we would have better friendships.
Community is a hard thing to pin down and really do well. But it’s okay, we have time to figure it out. But for now, I’m super thankful for the three women that have chosen to walk beside me and allow me to walk beside them. I’m overwhelmingly blessed by their friendship and reciprocal love. Thanks for helping me love others better.
To close, it’s okay to have a hard heart sometimes, but don’t let it stop you from finding everlasting (friend) love.
eternity in your hands
It’s overcast today. Pretty dark outside – the kind of day that makes you want to crawl back into bed rather than work.
I’m also working on a sermon today on Creation and Christ’s role in Creation. So I’m waist deep in some muddy Greek talk about Colossians 1:15-20. I’m in the trenches with this Greek scholar, making my NT professor from Seminary proud. I’m trying to put in the work.
Simultaneously, our Worship Director is practicing songs for Sunday morning. The same songs that will be surrounding my sermon. And in this building without real ceilings to keep sound in, I can hear him practice even though I can’t see him.
We picked the songs in our meeting on Monday, I knew that they would correspond well with the topic that I’m preaching on. And yet I’m still shocked, as he sings the words and I hear the praise rise to the deserving firstborn over all creation.
It’s a powerful moment to stop and think of the significance of our Savior standing before creation, existing before any of this existed. Creating the world out of love for his people, love for us. And then his coming to earth to love for us, to die for us. It’s an amazing act of sacrifice and love that he was pleased to do (Col 1:19).
Which begs the question, how do respond to this love? Are we serving our purpose as creation to worship the Holy One?
life in eden changed
I’ve been mulling around some thoughts about millenials lately. It’s been dominating conversations I’ve been having recently and has therefore been taking up some headspace.
I’ve also been watching a lot of Aaron Sorkin TV shows (namely The West Wing). It’s almost created a post or two about why I’m so drawn to these show and how I feel about millenials.
And then I read this blog post.
Rachel Held Evans has done it again. Taken the very same conversation that has been on my mind and written a lovely blog about it.
I agree with almost everything she says in this post. I see my friends retweet and share it on Facebook and I have hope that this conversation can hopefully spark some change.
It seems as though I’ve been wading water recently. I feel stuck in the in-between. I have graduated, received that little piece of paper that says that I am “trained” to be a pastor. I’ve met with leaders of our denomination who have encouraged me and affirmed my gifts and my call. I’ve put in the time, done the internships.
And now I wait. Wait for a call. Wait for what my life will look like moving forward.
And this in-between time has allowed my mind to wander. I’ve finally allowed myself to dream about what my ministry could look like. The excitement of starting something new comes in waves these days. A new area to explore, a new congregation’s worth of stories to hear, a new set of people to explore the Story with. It’s exciting.
I’ve been watching Season 6 of The West Wing. And once again I’m struck by the inspiration that the characters just seem to ooze. I see the glimmer of this excitement in Josh Lyman’s eye when he starts to think about who should be President next. I see that glimmer as he convinces his candidate to run, saying that together they could make a difference.
But then they start the campaign and simultaneously they start to fight. Because they don’t see the country in the same way, they don’t know how to do what they want to do together. They have these yelling matches in which you can feel the tension between them. And it reminds me of the church.
You see, I think millenials are leaving the church for all the reasons that Rachel Held Evans says, but I think there’s more to it. I think that the touch of entitlement and selfishness of the millenial generation plays into the scenario as well. We show up and assume that church should look like what we want it to look like and when it doesn’t, we’re out.
We don’t stick around for the fight. We don’t allow our voices to be heard because we’ve been told again and again that we aren’t the ones in charge. And I get that, I get the idea that no one is listening to me so why should I stick around. But the thing is, that some churches are listening, or trying to listen. Some churches are working on how to make the church deeper and not just wider.
I once heard a talk from Phyllis Tickle, talking about how the older generation needs the younger generation to be able to move the church forward. But that the younger generation needs the older generation to make sure we don’t move forward at an unsustainable pace.
It’s just like Josh Lyman and his candidate. Josh needs his candidate’s big dreams because he understands the cries of the people, but the candidate needs Josh’s expertise in how to get there. And together they can make it happen.
So millenials – please don’t keep leaving. It may be a hard road to see the change in the Church that we need right now, but it won’t happen if you keep leaving. I’m not promising it will be easy, it won’t be. But Jesus didn’t call us to the easy road, he called us to the one that leads to him.
If we keep leaving the church instead of fighting for what we believe is the truth of the gospel, then we prove the writers of Time Magazine right about our generation. But if we stay and work alongside of those already in the Church, we live up to the best of what Rachel Held Evans is saying about us.
I want to sing of hope everlasting
These last couple of days have found me on the shores of Lake Michigan. Celebrating the last year of ministry with my fellow staff members. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve shared story and we’ve encountered God through his Word.
I’m realizing more and more how we all come to the Word differently, not only in how we process and interpret it, but in how we share it with others. How we allow it to push into other aspects of our lives – of our passions.
I’ve had musician friends write music inspired by certain texts, or artists draw or paint a picture inspired by the text. I’ve heard heart felt discussions and studies on various pieces of the bible. What’s fascinating to me is to sit across from someone and hear their explanation of their process.
It’s amazing to listen as someone starts from the beginning.
“There’s this story in Ezekiel ….”
They set the stage for those of us who know it well and those of us who may not know it at all.
“Where Ezekiel talks about prophesying over dry bones…”
And you can hear their imaginations start to work.
“I see all these bones and sinews and tendons which makes me think of the Lion King and a production of these bones coming to life…”
And from there, they continue on. Describing colors or shapes, symbol crashes and the sounds of rattling. It’s like they are tying to show you a picture that is in their mind, something they have imagined up over the years.
Without fail, it ceases to amaze me when I hear people encountering scriptures in ways that I cannot. Through graffiti, art, collages, sound production, dramas, feasts … The list can go on and on. And when I sit across from them, with a cup of coffee in my hand, I listen intently as they describe the process. As they do I can hear the Spirit speaking through them. I can see that they have seen a side of God that I have not. And I want to lean in closer, in hopes to see what they see. I want to see the world through their eyes, if only for a moment. To steal a glimpse of how they see these words of God come to life.
Then I realize. This is my life. There are a lot of things about being a pastor that I’m really looking forward to doing, but this one just might take the cake.