Browsing Category

the whole & simple gospel

community life lately the whole & simple gospel

They belong in my business.

The other day, friends from our new family group gently asked why we haven’t hosted at our place yet. We typically rotate homes, and they know we used to have folks over all of the time. For some reason, it just stopped when we abruptly changed churches. I think maybe I’ve been scared, or grieving the loss of the last season, or just plain tired. When they pressed the other night, I told them I didn’t know. There was no good answer.

We all went out to lunch yesterday after church, and one of the boys innocently asked to come home with us. I felt Holy Spirit saying now was the time, so I sent a text on the way home and invited the entire family group over for the evening. The grass needed mowing and the house wasn’t “ready,” but we straightened what we could and rested until everyone arrived.

It was, of course, the perfect summer evening. Our friends complimented our house’s quirks and ignored her flaws. The kids ate their weight in popsicles and jumped on the rusty trampoline with the sprinkler aimed right at it. The adults threw corn hole and munched on last-minute snacks. And as we applied a charcoal face mask in the bathroom, the one with the cracked sink and dripping bathtub faucet, I looked at these women in the mirror and remembered. I can’t afford NOT to have people in my business. They belong there.

the whole & simple gospel

This is the promised land.

One of my pastors recently shared about a meeting he had while visiting pastors in an Asian country. His goal was to collect advice and wisdom to share with Middle Eastern church leaders, most of whom are refugees faced with the opportunity to return home. He was blown away by the response he got from the Asian pastors, all of whom have been arrested for practicing their faith openly. Here’s what he wrote down.

A visa is not the goal. America is not heaven. The Middle East is your promised land, because it’s where God has called you. Go back home, whatever’s left of it. Settle down, and let God use you.

To this day, I’ve never been arrested for following Jesus. I’ve never been forced to leave my country for my ethnicity or family background. For that, I am so grateful. But I do know what it’s like to want to flee. I know what it’s like to wish for a new season, or a new home, or an old community, or a different set of circumstances. I know what it’s like to question God’s goodness and faithfulness. I know what it’s like to want to quit and find something easier to spend my life doing.

And so as I sat listening to my pastor share of his travels and teach from Philippians 2:12-18, I wasn’t inspired or encouraged. I was convicted. I often do very little without grumbling or arguing. My heart doesn’t always feel like it’s shining as a star in the sky. I don’t choose to rejoice some days.

But as I let the Holy Spirit gently nudge me, I also felt the grace of Jesus’ work hit me like a tidal wave. This is the promised land. The kids and the work and the school. The new church with its new routines and new faces. The seasons that either don’t change quickly enough, or are far too short. The body, the marriage, the house that isn’t ever quite good enough for my tastes. This is all the promised land. God called me to it. Time to settle down and let Him use me.

community the whole & simple gospel

when I write for others: The Refined Woman

Occasionally, I get to write for magazines, newsletters, blogs, and everything in between. It’s neat to go back and read my words from another time. There’s always room for grace and growth and a smile or head nod. Here’s a piece from July 2016. Check out the original post here.

I’ve always been small. I’m shorter than most of my friends and have had long hair for most of my life.  My face is covered in a faint smattering of freckles, and I’m usually described as cute.

I used to hate it. I wanted to be pretty,  striking or hot. Nowadays, I tolerate it. There are worse things than being thirty and cute, right?

But here’s the thing – I’m starting to feel beautiful. This might be the most beautiful season I’ve ever experienced as a woman.  I’m not talking about just my looks, because most days, I don’t feel as attractive as I did before four kids came out of my body.

So what’s changed over the last few years? I’ve cultivated influence. I’ve married, acquired stepsons and had children. I’ve built a ministry. I’ve invested in solid, ride-or-die friendships and built relationships with the next generation. I’ve made it my mission to dig deeply into my community. I’ve committed to a new level of vulnerability with the people I call home, to allow them to bring out the best in me and point me to Jesus.

These days, people are looking at me. Like, really looking at me –not judging or whispering as I walk by their lunch table. They’re asking how my heart is. They’re digging beneath the surface of small talk. And they’re asking me to look at them, and pour into them.

My family looks to me for wisdom, advice, and a soft place to land when they fail. My friends don’t hesitate to serve me with feedback, encouragement, love, affection, and correction. The teenage girls I lead value my opinions on their eyebrows, personal style, and how far they decide to go with their boyfriends. On any given day, people all over the world might read my blog or scroll through my Instagram feed and make a split-second decision about Jesus, just from peeking through my lens.

None of these groups are mind-blowing in number. I’m not talking about big stats and monster platforms. This is real life. Family, friends, the folks I bump into on the Internet.

But here’s what those groups have in common — me.

In some shape or form, I come into contact with all of these people. I touch them. They touch me. And it’s my choice whether or not to lean in, and be careful with their hearts in the process. It’s my choice whether or not to acknowledge the gift I’ve been given with them… my influence.

Strange as it sounds, once I began to feel the weight of the influence I carry, I began to see the beauty in it.  Influence is beautiful. Sacred.  As I brushed up against the idea that I could take hold of my influence and use it for good, I began to feel more beautiful. For the first time in my life, I could see clearly what my purpose is – to love God and love people. That’s all I ever have to do in this life.

Influence is freedom, and it is beautiful. It’s holy work, and I’m honored to do it.

Accepting responsibility for my influence made me care more about beauty than ever before, but in a healthy way. I started working out regularly — not to get skinny, but to take care of my temple. I actually don’t have time to feel insecure or negative about my body because I’m doing holy work.

So now I put in a few hours a week at the gym and try to watch what I feed myself. I pay more attention to my wardrobe. Not because I want approval from people, but because I know that teenage girls are watching me. I care deeply that they grow up to believe that God’s definition of femininity and sexuality exists to give them the best life possible.

I believe that Jesus is big enough to bring things full circle.  He’s kind enough to use our unique personalities in ways that teach us things about Him. I may forever be short and cute, but I’m beautiful because He’s asked me to use my influence over the small tribe He’s given me, and equipped me in all the right ways to do it.

community politics & leadership the whole & simple gospel

Thoughts from a concerned Christ-follower.

Politics and religion have clashed for centuries, but the last few years in America have given us quite the taste. The internet makes us more aware, more often, of injustices. Tragedy strikes, both new and old uncovered. Hurt people hurt people. Headlines scroll. We take sides. We post. We vote. Some churches talk about it. Others don’t. Christians are left to choose their own way, led by an outspoken pastor, or a silent pastor, or a news station. Sometimes, we just default to the way we were raised. Most of the time, we go where we’re most comfortable, where we feel most right and where we will not be challenged.

I could write a fascinating case study after watching people react to the 2016 election and beyond. I don’t watch the news anymore; it’s too sad. Let’s not talk about that subject; it’s too divisive. I’m moving to Canada. I’m sure there’s an explanation for this, and the media is just hyping it up. I hope he gets impeached. I hope she goes to jail. Standards and preferences and levels of tolerance change, depending on the day and the story and what’s at stake.

I’d like to think I have a unique perspective into this cultural clash. I grew up at a Christian school, in a predominantly white and wealthy community. This is where I first developed rich relationships with people of color, and where I was also given space and time to choose Christianity for myself. My education included a year-long, rigorous apologetics course, culminating in a twenty-seven page thesis. I also maintained a diverse group of friends “on the outside,” who taught me about everything from veganism to LGBTQ issues to the difference between agnostics and atheists. This is where I first learned to answer the very important question, Why do bad things happen to good people?

I am grateful for both of these environments, as the combination prepared me well for the world beyond high school graduation. I’ve felt both grounded and challenged ever since, secure enough in my identity to have open conversations. It feels natural and necessary to ask questions about what I believe, what others believe, what Scripture says, and how it affects everything from my everyday-life to the folks appointed to the Supreme Court’s bench.

Although there was never a single person who told me how to think and what to believe and for whom to vote, there was an overall understanding of how we did things. It continues to this day. It’s all over the internet and in our break rooms and church lobbies and around the table. Christians are under threat. We must protect our way of life.

It’s become difficult to reconcile the trusted voices of my youth with the trusted voice of Jesus, because I don’t see threats and protectionism mentioned in Scripture. If we consider ourselves to be children of God, we are not under threat. We are in Christ. Our way of life is the way of the Cross, not American culture. The Bible is straightforward in its accounts of Jesus and his positions. He remained very consistent throughout his life on earth.

Jesus never denied the existence of problems like systemic injustice, sexism, and racism. Jesus never isolated or insulated himself with his own kind. Jesus never blamed groups of people for their plight. Jesus elevated women. Jesus prioritized the poor. Jesus condemned racism. Jesus addressed injustice. Jesus was divisive and radical. Jesus boldly identified sin, but he brought the solution. Jesus became the cure. Jesus showed up ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of others. Jesus taught us that although the good news may be messy at times, it is never heavy nor condemning.

I’m done tiptoeing around the conversations America needs to have. I’m done worrying about a reputation of divisiveness within the Body of Christ I love so dearly. Jesus is my measuring stick, and he turned a table upside down in a church.

I’m not a lost liberal. I’m a concerned Christ-follower. So help me, God.

politics & leadership the whole & simple gospel

alignment versus everything else


I recently listened to a quick-yet-powerful snippet about the difference between alignment and agreement on a podcast, and it sent me off on my own journey of research and speculating. The idea of constant and total agreement felt right to me. I tend to want everyone on the same page all of the time, or else my world feels unsettled. When I heard the word alignment, I pictured proper dance technique or a car in need of a tune-up. I couldn’t stop with just those two words, though. I had to dig into allegiance. Having grown up in a sports family, a military family, a church family, allegiance is in my blood. It’s sacred and it’s serious. I’ve even been told before that sometimes I can be too loyal. So I hit the books (aka the internet). Here is what I found.

a·gree·ment / əˈɡrēmənt/noun – harmony or accordance in opinion or feeling; a position or result of agreeing; the absence of incompatibility between two things; consistency.

al·le·giance / əˈlējəns/noun – loyalty or commitment of a subordinate to a superior or of an individual to a group or cause.

a·lign·ment / əˈlīnmənt/noun – arrangement in a straight line, or in correct or appropriate relative positions.

None of these concepts is good or bad. Words are just words when left alone. It’s how we use them that can either hurt or help. Because these words affect the way we interact with others, they tend to carry weight and burrow themselves into our hearts and minds. Because we can’t pursue them all at once, we tend to lean towards one at the expense of the others. Agreement. Allegiance. Alignment. When it comes to relationships, church dynamics, workplaces, and beyond… what is our aim?

Agreement demands unanimous opinion and feelings of total buy-in. Allegiance requires absolute and unending commitment, and refers to a hierarchy where one person is placed above an another. Alignment is the concept with the least oppressive standards. Appropriate relative position is all that’s needed to move a machine forward – a family, team, or organization. Alignment is the goal.

How do I know this works? Jesus. As a leader, he never once demanded agreement or allegiance from his disciples. The gospels are full of examples of folks asking Jesus questions or even attempting to correct him. He always responded by receiving their feedback and giving them a choice in exchange – to trust his leadership and follow or or not. As a follower, he was honest with God about his feelings as he pursued God’s plan to the cross. The night before he died, he even asked if there might be a way out. But he finished by submitting to his father’s leadership, because he trusted the vision. He chose alignment, and the world was made right again.

If you’re in a position of leadership today, whether it be friends at school who look up to you or children in your home or the team you supervise at work… what is your aim? What are you asking of your people? Agreement, allegiance, or alignment? Why? If you’re in a position of submission today who reports to someone, whether it be a team captain or parents or a pastor or boss… what drives your behavior and thoughts? What are you giving or holding back? Agreement, allegiance, or alignment? Why?

And to both groups, I ask… can you even imagine how much more harmonious and powerful life could be, if we aimed for alignment and didn’t worry about the rest? How freeing would it feel to lead from a place where we didn’t need people to agree all of the time or pledge their allegiance to validate our security and identity? How freeing would it feel to follow from a place where we could simply choose to align our behavior in the direction of those who lead us, even if we disagree with steps along the way?

As woman who lives in both groups on a daily basis, I want to aim for alignment. As a follower of Jesus, I’m grateful for a savior who doesn’t ask for anything else from me. I can choose to participate in agreement or allegiance, for sure, and my life hums with energy when those postures come naturally and easily. But appropriate relative position is enough to transform hearts and families and schools and churches and workplaces, and I want to be a part of that more than anything else.

on a practical note… (aka – great, Rach. but what does this LOOK like at school or work or church or in my marriage and friendships?)

  • you can trust God and still be mad
  • you can disagree with a strategy and still go along with the plan
  • you can delegate a chore that you will have to redo later
  • you can bite your tongue
  • you can ask questions
  • you can be bored
  • you can be patient
  • you can encourage others
  • you can hope for change
  • you can stay the course
  • you can dream about the future and still cheer for the present
  • you can think you’d do it better and still follow
  • you can be honest with your feelings
  • you can be loud about submitting
  • you can pray
  • you can pray
  • you can pray

*DISCLAIMER – all of these concepts assume nothing unethical, illegal, dangerous, immoral, etc. etc. etc. is taking place in your current situation

**RESOURCES – podcast, dictionary, article, article, article, the Bible

community the whole & simple gospel

to gather is to let the light in.

I didn’t grow up in a house that hosted often, or on the fly. My family threw parties occasionally, but most of our social gatherings took place in neighborhood clubhouses and church banquet halls. It was the 90’s, and the small group model within the church hadn’t taken off yet. Sunday school class made up one’s community, which typically consisted of weekly meetings in a formal setting and a yearly retreat or two.

As I entered adulthood, I watched the local church shed almost of all of its programming in favor of small groups – also known as life groups, family groups, and home groups. My introverted personality took a long time to warm up to them. I don’t want to use the phrase naturally averse, because I believe every human is wired for authentic community, but it’s the best description I can think of for the way I felt about opening my life to a group of people on such an intimate level. It was easy to blame my schedule, or the brand new baby (or babies), and not show up. For years, I resisted digging in and committing to these groups.

During one season of postpartum depression, my husband and I worked together to overhaul my schedule. Basically, we cleared everything off of the calendar and built it back piece by piece. For months, I only went to church, a weekly yoga class at my neighborhood rec center, counseling, and small group. I didn’t get to a vulnerable place with my small group for years, but it was during this season that I learned to show up consistently. And it changed everything.

I learned so much about myself then. Mostly, that I’d been lying to myself. I’d known all along that I couldn’t do life alone, that I needed grace just like everyone else in the world, and that being in community was good for my soul and the world around me. But there’s a difference between head and heart. I hadn’t wanted to do the work. I hadn’t wanted to feel exposed. I’d hated the idea of owing anyone anything. I’d been ashamed to admit any hint of failure even to myself, much less to people around me. I’d been living in the dark, but Jesus brought me into the light.

Over the years, it’s gotten easier. What started out as a disciplined commitment, a chore almost, has now become one of the greatest joys of my life. These days, I try to spend one night per week in community, which I define as the people who love Jesus and me enough to keep showing up for both. I gradually moved from coffee shops and restaurants to gathering in other people’s houses, and eventually… my own. Now, I’ll invite people over for a meal or a movie night with an hour’s notice. I’ll let teenage boys take over for a night or seven. I’ll offer to host the party instead of defaulting to a friend with a nicer house or sharper skills.

Opening my home to people has been a huge milestone of growth for my personality, my marriage, my role as a mother, and my journey as a follower of Jesus. It feels like letting the light in. It feels like victory.

My house was built in 1890. We bought it as a foreclosure. The floors are creaky and you can see through planks in places. The bathroom sink is cracked. Our kids are loud and our dogs are nosy. The walls are crooked, the baseboards warped and stained. There are never enough dishes or seats. It’ll be a decade or more before this house is “ready” to host, but we do it anyway. We can’t afford not to. We will not buy what culture or our flesh tries to sell us. We will not hide or withdraw or isolate. We will not wait for a better time. To gather is to fight. To gather is to change the world. To gather is to let the light in.

I’m in the light now, and I’m not going back.

health & wellness the whole & simple gospel

when I write for others: Upwrite Magazine

Occasionally, I get to write for magazines, newsletters, blogs, and everything in between. It’s neat to go back and read my words from another time. There’s always room for grace and growth and a smile or head nod. Here’s a piece from December 2016.

I figured I might as well start my self-care journey in the bathtub. It sounded like the most obvious (bubble baths! candles!), and it just so happened to be the very spot where I’d experienced suicidal thoughts just a few months before. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I married, inherited and/or birthed six children, built and sold and bought a couple of houses, started my career as a nurse, and jumped into vocational ministry alongside my husband, all in a span of five years. If it sounds like a lot, of course it was. It absolutely was. But it just didn’t feel like it – not at the time. I’ve always wanted to be a grown woman with a man and a job and some kids. I’ve always been a high-capacity, keep-my-plate-full kind of girl. So I just went about my business one day at a time, until I broke.

I hit rock bottom one cold winter morning, after a few months of mild depression and a few precipitating events. My husband sent me to take a bath after I blew up at one of my daughters, and I found myself thinking of all the ways my family would be better off without me. After entertaining dangerous thoughts for a few minutes, I sent my husband a text. I need help. I don’t feel safe. He immediately went into action, and I’m forever grateful for his initiative.

Over the next few months, we walked a beautiful, painful, and simple road together. I started therapy and I cleared my social calendar. I said no a lot that year. I only attended counseling, church and small group, and family events. I fought hard to find joy when I looked into my kids’ faces and by God’s grace, I found it. I also dove head-first into the idea of self-care. It felt unbelievably exhilarating to get a little self-indulgent and spend more time on myself than ever before. And I had permission, nonetheless!

Like I said, I started with the bathtub. There were weekly bubble baths and face masks and magazines and candles. I did a lot of online shopping, and my husband made room in the budget for biweekly manicures. I practiced yoga for the first time ever, several nights per week in my bedroom. There was a lot of introspection and belly gazing. All of those things sound luxurious and amazing now, so it might sound crazy to say that they were hard at first. But depression is a beast. Back then, the bubble baths and the manicures actually had to be put on a list and checked off. They required effort. After awhile, though, I developed a sense of discipline with my regimens and my boundaries and my schedule. Those things became easier. They each tell a small part of my redemptive story of healing now, but I didn’t do everything right during that season. In fact, I got a big chunk of it dead wrong.

Somewhere along the way, I fell for the lie that said self-care started and stopped with me. I fell for the lie that said I had to look out for myself, that nobody else had and nobody else would. I fell for the lie that said I could somehow achieve my way to peace and wholeness, by being more disciplined and taking better care of myself. Looking back, I think my problem lay in my own definition of self-care. It was too small.

Self-care is about so much more than self. For me, it is the exploration of two key ideas. First, for whom am I getting healthy? Sure, I want to be stronger. I want my post-baby body to be able to do the same things that my pre-baby body could. I want to feel attractive when I look at myself in the mirror. I want to read about beauty products and understand what the heck the experts are talking about. I want to feel in the know, up-to-date, and relevant. But it is so much more than that. I want to be healthy for my people. I want my husband and kids to look at me and be proud of me, but also spurred on to become their best selves, too. I want the people in my community for whom my heart breaks to receive the best parts of me, in a way that doesn’t drain me when I pour out for them. I want my patients at work and the folks at church and the people online to be blessed each time we interact. And so I take care of myself. I take it seriously. But it’s not just for me.

Second, what is the aim of my discipline? I grew up in a Christian, upper-middle class family with doting parents and opportunities galore. And yet, I spent most of my life convinced that I needed to earn approval, and that I was only one bad decision away from falling out of right-standing with God. Once I went through counseling, I realized that even I need grace. No amount of striving can help. Grace is not just for the serial killers and the prostitutes out there.

If sin is nothing more than separation from our Creator, then we’re all outside in the cold. Grace is just an invitation inside, a seat at the fireplace with the One who makes things right again.

So I refocused my sense of discipline off of just self-protection and self-preservation. I dug into the spiritual disciplines that people have been using to take care of their souls since the very beginning. I began reading my Bible every morning, and spending more time with God. I practiced exploring humility in a very basic way – confessing and repenting in front of my husband and kids on a daily basis, and asking for help when I needed it.

Reshaping my life around these two ideas has completely revolutionized both my healing process and my working definitions of self-care. It can start in the bathtub if it needs to, but it can’t stop there.

People are literally dying to get a little good news from those of us who are healthy enough to carry it.