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community politics & leadership the whole & simple gospel

Love goes first.

We were out of town at a family wedding two Aprils ago, getting ready in the hotel room, when I heard the knock. I’m sure I was in my robe, curling my hair or something. My husband let my grandfather in, and I could tell right away Papa meant business. He started moving furniture (89 years old, post-back surgery) and set up a little conference area by the window. He tapped the small side table he’d set up between two chairs, a signal I’d long ago learned meant that I was to sit down. This was to be was a legacy talk, the kind that outlasts him.

You see, my grandfather is pretty healthy. He’s overcome war and illness and injury and still lives independently, with my grandmother. He still attends church and works his land and exercises regularly and tutors kids at the nearby middle school. He’s got that vitality life on lockdown.

But my grandfather is fascinated with his mortality. Ever since I could remember, he’s been happy to discuss his final arrangements with anyone who will listen. Over the last several years, though, he’s become very focused on his legacy. What will they remember me by? Do they understand what I believe? Do they feel what I feel? Will they keep what I share?

And so we have these talks. Sometimes they’re back-to-back, and sometimes a few years passes between. Once, when a boy asked me for a kiss on a camping trip, Papa overheard. He called me into the camper, literally packed the place up and changed campsites, and had me draw a pie chart about the whole thing on the trip home. He named it our “I-85 conversation.” Needless to say, my first kiss did not happen for years.

Before the weekend of the family wedding, I’d never pushed back on Papa’s viewpoints. Usually, I took notes and kept my mouth shut. I’ve always been here to receive. My grandfather is the wisest man I’ve ever known, and never had it crossed my mind that I’d challenge and stretch and grow him like he had done me.

Until the talk that weekend. Election drama was heating up, Donald Trump was headed to our family party’s national convention, and Papa was unsettled about the direction of our country. He asked me to write two words on a piece of paper. Truth, and Righteousness. Don’t forget the capital letters at the beginning. And then he pointed at the words scrawled across the hotel stationary, with that arthritic finger of his. Those are the only two things I want to live by for the rest of my life.

As he unfolded his argument, I felt the Holy Spirit hover between us. This man with whom I share blood, and a love for Jesus, was suddenly on the very opposite side of the very small table that very much filled the room. I did not agree with my beloved Papa, and I was about to go there.

I don’t know, Papa. I don’t think I see it that way.

He paused. He smiled, eyes glistening. He cocked his head, hearing aids tilted it in prime position. And he invited me in. So I went there.

I only see one word with a capital letter in Scripture. Love. I see Jesus caring about truth and righteousness, but I see him repeating over and over that our only job is to love people. I believe that it’s dangerous to plant a flag on any argument other than one that aggressively, unconditionally, loves people like our Savior did. I believe that there are lot of tenants that sort of just naturally flow out of our focus on the one commandment – Love. With a capital. Love is what I want to live by for the rest of my life. I asked him to dig through the Bible and ask God what he thought. I think love has to go first.

He told me I’d given him a lot to think about. We’ve never revisited the conversation. But in the last two years, I’ve watched a 91 year-old man attack the life he has left with a renewed sense of vigor. Dripping with Love. With a capital letter.

life lately the whole & simple gospel

The problem with performance.

At my worst, I’m obsessed with improvement. Addicted to movement. My allegiance is to the forward progression. I find solidarity with the ones who believe they can be better tomorrow than they are today. One step forward, even a shaky step or a baby step, feels better than standing still (forget about sliding backwards).

Part of this mindset is due to the way I was raised. Part of it comes from the way I was wired. None of it is wrong, unless or until it comes from the wrong place. And for most of my life, it has come from the wrong place.

I recently sat across from a friend and told her that if my flesh was given the option, it would choose to follow a guru with a ten-step plan to fulfillment over a Savior who promises only His presence as I stumble through this life.

“But when you got to the end of those steps, you’d still feel empty, right?”

Of course, I told her. But I’d be happy to start over. A hamster on a wheel doesn’t repulse or repel me. My flesh is happy to be a hamster on a wheel. My flesh wouldn’t mind waking up each day with a to-do list that leads nowhere.

Why? Because the journey of walking with Jesus can be a long one. Aside from the very small (very important) salvation part, it doesn’t produce instant results. And thinking about it like that? Thinking about the life-long process discipleship entails? It makes me tired. It makes me uncomfortable. It doesn’t fit neatly into my predilection for improvement, movement, and forward progress.

Much of my journey as a Christ-follower has consisted of trying to unlock and achieve the next level, whatever I’ve made up for that to mean. I’ve been following Jesus my entire life, and it’s looked different but the same at every stage. Early on, I tried to just stay out of hell. In my teen and young adult years, it became about fixing my problems so that God could use me. Later on, I scolded myself for needing Him daily. I hid my sin from the people I loved most. I felt that for the sake of movement and progress, I should only have to apply the gospel to my life one time, not every waking moment. That would be weak and needy. And God didn’t need weak and needy. He needed me to perform, right?

To look back at this point is hilarious, considering I perceived my worldview to be a less tiring option than abiding with Jesus daily. And what’s worse, I thought my performance-based living actually saved God some time and effort on me. You know, for when I’d really need it.

Pointless? Yes. Wrong? Sure. Twisted? Absolutely. But for some reason, none of those things changed my heart. Exhausting? That’s what did it. I got too tired. God let me wear myself out, like a toddler after a tantrum. And then he scooped me up and wiped my tears and smoothed my hair and whispered sweet somethings in my ear. Stuff about grace, abundance, and transformation.

Improvement and movement and forward progress are not bad things. They are typically part of the package of walking with Jesus. But the idea that I can do it on my own, without ever screwing up or taking a time-out or backing up a few steps… that is just ludicrous. Because even at my best, I am weak and needy. I always need the gospel, the good news that God is only too happy to remind me of, every waking moment. Praise Him for that.

health & wellness marriage the whole & simple gospel

Fighting. Sharing. In Jesus’ name.

It’s mental health awareness month and I already have the victory, so I am just going for it right here.

I tend to handle hard seasons like the nurse that I am – I triage, I treat, I tend to others. I am think critically, I react swiftly and efficiently, and I handle effectively. And then months later, I crash. I find myself flat on my back. Everything feels dark and stormy. It’s too hard to brush my teeth and read my Bible and stay close to my people.

I’ve been there for the last little bit. I saw the red flags here and there for the last few months, with the tiniest triggers and the smallest setbacks throwing me for a loop. It came to a head last week, thanks to friends and family pressing in. At one point, my husband physically pulled me out of bed and put my shoes on so I could get moving one morning. I spent several days lamenting and analyzing. What went wrong? I’ve been preparing my heart, disciplining my body, digging into Scripture and community, and running on mission both in my city and on the Internet. My marriage is great, my kids are awesome, and things feel pretty healthy overall. Why the sudden physical symptoms of depression? This felt like failure.

But the truth is it’s not failure. It’s just not. This is simply my life, in seasons. And it’s futile and foolish to think I’ll ever outgrow my need for the gospel, or even move on to a new problem instead of my usual struggle with pride and performance. I’m wired a certain way, I’m born into sin, and I’m made new only in Christ. And only on a daily, forever basis.

So the last few weeks were hard. But this week? This week, we fight. And this time? This time, I share as I go. Because His resurrection power is made positively perfect in my weakness. And I’m ready to boast in it.

This week: move body every day (gentle is okay), drink at least a liter of water each day, sex three times this week, be honest when people ask, no meeting with girls/women this week, memorize Isaiah 32:15-20, worship music or audio books only, and remember that this could end tomorrow and that there’s still joy in the midst.

books & things politics & leadership the whole & simple gospel

Racial reconciliation book list

We’ve got two eyes, two ears, and only one mouth. I believe it’s for a reason. As a white woman who desires to be an ally to my Black community, I feel that it is crucially important to watch and learn first. You’ve got to assess a situation and take notice before you can help. Here’s what I’ve read so far, in no particular order. I’ll continue to add to this list, and I’m always open to suggestions!

{written 1/2017; edited 5/2020}

Disunity in Christ, Christena Cleveland

Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates

Same Kind of Different as Me, Ron Hall

Go Set a Watchman, Harper Lee

To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee

Brown Girl Dreaming, Jacqueline Woodson

By Any Means Necessary, Malcom X

The Warmth of Other Suns, Isabel Wilkerson

The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas

On the Come Up, Angie Thomas

I’m Still Here, Austin Channing Brown

The Third Option, Miles McPherson

The Color of Compromise, Jemar Tisby

White Awake, Daniel Hill

White Fragility, Robin DiAngelo

Be The Bridge, Latasha Morrison

The HD Leader, Derwin Gray

Just Mercy, Bryan Stevenson

So You Want to Talk About Race, Ijeoma Oluo

Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?, Beverly Daniel Tatum

politics & leadership the whole & simple gospel

Thoughts on election frenzy.

*edit – almost immediately after publishing this post, I received critically important and helpful feedback from some kind folks on Twitter. So I changed the title and made a few edits, because this election DOES matter. The future of America DOES matter. I tried to keep things vague and tidy the first time around, but vague and tidy just doesn’t work during election season. So I took things in a different direction, a topic on which I’m pretty proficient and a direction in which I feel safe leading my readers. Thanks for being such a part of this process!

I love politics. I discovered NPR my freshman year of college and I haven’t recovered since. I’ve always had this desire to know a little bit about a lot of things. I’m almost positive it stems from sin – fear of failure, and desire for approval, and maybe a little pride thrown in. But the genuine thirst for knowledge is real and I’m grateful the Lord put that in me. So I listen, and I read, and how many times do I have to say I love Twitter? I’m a millennial – of COURSE I get my news from social media!

I’ve voted Republican and I’ve voted Democrat, and I’ve never been totally satisfied with either party’s platforms. And that’s okay. Nobody gets it perfectly. No party gets it perfectly. We are sinful and greedy and easily corrupted. This world began falling apart the moment sin entered the world and it won’t stop decaying until Jesus comes back to fix it once and for all. Even in the waiting, I’m still grateful to be an American who loves the democratic process.

I know elections are exhausting to watch. Your brain hurts from all of the ads and your Facebook feeds are probably tired. But here’s why I think it matters to follow politics and current events, both in America and around the world – because God says to look. Both the Old and the New Testaments are filled with examples of God’s desire for us to keep our eyes open. To perceive what he’s doing. To be in this world while not of it. To fight for truth and justice as he defines it. To bind up broken hearts and set people free. And so we listen, and we read, and we talk about it, and we rally, and we vote.

But there’s a catch. It’s easy to get burnt out. It’s easy to succumb to fear or feelings of overwhelm or hopelessness. Self-care is important. I could say I don’t get caught up in the frenzy, because I know who wins in the end and I know the God I serve cares about truth and justice even more than I do. But there’s more to it than that, on a daily, micro level. I guess when it comes down to it, I have an election self-care regimen.

I refuse to engage in conversations that involve hateful, damaging, fear-mongering language about the direction in which this country is headed. I thank God that I live with a black President and a woman Presidential candidate. I fact check a lot. I open my Bible each morning and look for clues on how to love people better and what God says about leadership. I click through several funny political memes per day. My favorites were from the second debate.

I gather my kids around the table and teach them how to look at the world through a viewfinder that says a man named Jesus died for it. I remind them that this includes every single person, all of the genders and all of the colors, with all of the baggage anyone cares to bring to the table. I stay off of social media at least one day per week, sometimes two. I practice saying things like, “You might be right” (thanks, Jess). I pray for more humility and wisdom. I bite my tongue more now than I ever have in my life. I also speak up more than I ever have in my life. Because there is a time for everything, and this matters.

health & wellness life lately the whole & simple gospel

The bottom never falls out here.

I knew it was coming. I’d already heard the word discipline from the Lord several times throughout the month of January, as if he was asking me to put in the work now so I could reap the harvest later. When I finally had some clarity, I told my husband about the stirring in my heart. Some stuff is going to hit the fan for us this year. I think someone might get sick, or we might lose an income, or there might be new relational chaos in our family. I want to be prepared when it happens.

Ever supportive of my spiritual gifts, my dear husband gave me some serious side eye and told me to pipe down. Then he closed his eyes and nodded. And shook his head, at the same time. If my man could figure out a way to build a house in the clouds, he would move our family to the sky in a heartbeat. Chris could literally get punched in the face and he’d pull himself out of the dirt, dust himself off, smile, and make some comment about how there’s nowhere to go but up from there. In that moment at our kitchen table, he knew I’d heard from God, but he didn’t want to think about our lives being turned upside-down.

And eight months later, upside-down they went! In the course of just a few weeks, our family has experienced significant sickness, loss of income, and relational chaos. I’m trying my hardest to compare it to other times my life has felt dark and hopeless, because these are some of the most extreme events to ever happen to us. And yet, this is the most at peace I’ve ever felt. I don’t feel dark and heavy. I feel light and hopeful, excited even. Because we’ve been preparing for this all year.

Mere weeks after my word from the Lord in January, I sat at the IF:gathering and listened to Katherine describe her life-changing stroke and subsequent recovery. She said that in her darkest moments, she reminded herself that THIS IS NOT A DRILL. This is what she’d been training for, in a spiritual sense. All of the Scripture, all of the prayers, all of the diligent times spent with Jesus, they came flooding back to her and kept her company while she lay in a hospital bed, unable to communicate with anyone. As I listened to her words, I felt God again remind me of our conversations a month prior. It almost felt as if he was nudging me to stop wasting time. No need to be flailing about and trying to remember a random Psalm when the bottom drops out. And so I got ready. I got after healthy rhythms and relationships like my life depended on it.

I started reading my Bible every morning, and not just when I remembered to or on a phone app in the car. When people ask, I try not to sound blunt in my reply. I just read it. No reading plans, no journals. I pick one book at a time, and I read one chapter per day until that book is done. Throughout the day, I ask the Lord to remind me things from my morning’s reading. What does he want to tell me about himself, myself, and the world?

I also started going to the gym every day. Not just a few times per month for yoga classes, or on a Saturday morning when I had some free time. I work out five days a week, for twenty minutes each morning. This is another question I get a lot, about how I make it work. I just go. The answer might seem unrealistic to some, but it took so much time and work to get to this place as a family. We literally changed jobs and moved things around in our budget to get the morning routine we have today. And now my husband and I start our days together while apart (how couples do the same workout next to each other, I might never know), moving our bodies and asking God how he wants to use us today.

Lastly, I really started to let people in. I feel like I went to my best friend Jess and my husband and blurted out I HAVE A PRIDE PROBLEM, but I know it was more nuanced than that (I hate nuance. Even the word. It feels wimpy to me. I’m so stinkin’ black and white). I basically asked them to speak life AND truth over me, and I practiced receiving correction. I got used to the idea that I’m busted and broken even WITH Jesus, and I learned to guzzle grace. I’m still working on the “extending it others” part, but the Lord is kind and gentle while he teaches me.

And so here we are. The actual bottom is trying to fall out, and I’m still standing. There is healing here. This is a story of redemption. A few years ago when things got rough, I wanted out. Out of my marriage, out of motherhood, out of this world. And this time, I’m smiling (weakly, tightly sometimes) and whispering under my breath that this is not a drill.

I can take heart. He’s already overcome the world. And I’m not alone. God looks at some of these worldly circumstances of mine and he enters into the pain with me. It ought not be, he whispers. I get it. This is bad. But can we go back to all of those things I promised you? All of the things you’ve read about me in Scripture, bragged about me to your friends and people online? Let’s camp out on those. Stand on my promises. The bottom never falls out here.

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politics & leadership racial reconciliation the whole & simple gospel

Fumbling for hope.

Last week’s events have left me in an utterly sad place. I’m not black, I don’t have family in law enforcement, and I’ve never lost a relative to gun violence. It’s tempting to feel as if it’s not my place to mourn in such a way that feels like I can’t catch my breath and my heart might fall out of my body.

But that’s the way it feels. This is my country, too. These are my people. And I’m trained for it. I know how to hurt with the hurting. I’m not easily shocked or rattled by tragedy. And more than all of that, this is the burden God’s given me.

I don’t get riled up about every issue that comes across my screen, and I’m usually unwilling to engage in dialogue on subjects that make Christians famous – or infamous. It’s not that I feel disdain for people passionate about all of the things, but it just doesn’t feel effective. I can’t afford to get distracted. Love God, love people. Love God, love people.

But racial reconciliation? This is a flag I’ll wave even when my arms get tired. This is a hill upon which I’m willing to die. This is a legacy I’d like to leave my children, a fiery torch I hope to pass. This is one of many ways I want to love God, and love people. And so on I’ll trudge. One day at a time. Slowly, surely, intentionally, and prayerfully.

I am grateful for a church willing to wade into the mess this morning, helping me fumble for hope and throwing me a lifeline in 2 Corinthians 1. He HAS delivered us, and He WILL delivered us. I am relieved at the idea of a God who is never surprised, a God who still holds the world in his hands while it bleeds.

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