life lately racial reconciliation the whole & simple gospel

I’m taking back my language.

Anyone else find themselves regularly tempted to water down their words? Me! Me! Me!

When I first started hanging out online, I was fearless. I remember waiting the endless seconds and minutes for our dial-up internet to connect, and then it was off to the races. I wrote about my feelings. I wrote about people. I wrote about my day. I wrote about topics on which I had no business presenting myself as an expert, but I didn’t care. The world wide web was my oyster. What changed?

Over the years, I have been corrected about my words both privately and publicly. I have been snarked about on anonymous forums, and I’ve faced pushback in my comment sections. But I have also been a recipient of well-meaning tweets and direct messages and emails. I have pulled my words when they harmed. I have edited my words when they didn’t translate like I’d hoped. Although I don’t agree with the permanent exclusivity and shunning associated with today’s cancel culture, I very much appreciate the long-overdue attention needed to careless and damaging words and actions. For me, the problem lies in the temptation to censor myself. This is what I call the watering down.

There is beauty to correction and knowing better so one can do better, but there is danger in allowing one’s self to get lost or tucked away or hidden for good. There is power in wisdom and discernment and council, but there is also strength in courage to speak. From opinions to pleas to vulnerability, we must hold space for our words and the words of others. As a Jesus follower, I believe the enemy of my soul wants nothing more than to shut me up for good.

When I say something, it’s usually because I very much mean it. I’m also quite comfortable changing my mind along the way. Sometimes the safest place to be is in the uncertainty of something. These things, meaning what we say and changing our minds, are normal behaviors. It’s time to behave as though they are. I will stay careful forever, but I’m ready to be done second-guessing everything I say and write. I want to take back my language, both online and in face-to-face interactions.

Busy is defined as having a great deal to do. Sometimes, I’m busy. To be indulgent is to be overly generous or lenient. I hope I’m indulgent to myself and others when it matters. Black lives matter is a theologically true and sound statement. Woke is now defined as being alert to injustice. I certainly want to care about the things God cares about.

When I allow words to become hijacked by culture, even Christian culture, I allow the enemy to sideline me. And my short life here on earth is far too precious for that.

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COVID-19 health & wellness

This is not the same thing.

I feel a little weird about defending evidence-based medicine, since it’s peer-reviewed hard data that can be trusted. An evidence-based approach to anything does not need defending. However, a lot of you feel distrustful toward modern medicine in general, and I get it. Additionally, I’ve had challenging and productive conversations with many of you who care a lot about natural approaches to wellness. And I’m not sure everyone knows my background. So here goes!

I chose to have a baby at home when I saw the statistics and read the blogs and watched the documentary. I delayed all vaccines for my kids until age five, and I still keep religious exemption forms on file from the local health department. I don’t treat most illnesses with medication. My favorite phrase is “let it ride” when deciding how to manage symptoms in my home. I love essential oils, and I’ll be the first to tape a clove of garlic in your ear when it aches. I am quick to blame most of my personal health symptoms on inflammation. 

But this is different. A brand-new virus has spread to the ends of the earth and back, with little available data on transmission and treatment and prevention. This is not the same thing as a chronic medical illness that can be managed with lifestyle changes. It is not the same thing as feeling like your family practitioner isn’t listening to you, and finding a natural-minded supportive community online. It is not the same thing as boosting your immune system with supplements during flu season. Although I still do every single of one of these things, COVID-19 is different.

I want to acknowledge that a natural approach to wellness and healing is painfully missing from our allopathic model of medicine. Additionally, I must confess that I have changed my mind countless times, on each of these topics, when presented with new information along the way over the years. But we cannot afford to conflate multiple important topics into one right now, and we cannot afford to spend too much time on rabbit trails. We are in crisis mode with one thing and one thing only – COVID-19.

It is privilege that allows me to access bloodwork and follow-up interpretation. It is privilege that allows me to access academic journals with best practice and gold standards. It is privilege that allows me to access a medical provider speak to my individual situation and make recommendations on vitamins and supplements. It is even privilege that allows me access into the natural-minded community online and in my local community. Not everyone has the time or space to research and ask questions and scroll. Not everyone can afford naturopathic options or experimental treatments. If an item is not FDA-approved, it may not be covered by health insurance. If I start talking about medication publicly, does it count as medical advice? If I make a blanket statement about Vitamin D dosing, for example, how will I follow up on each person’s blood levels? Vitamin D is not excreted through the kidneys; therefore, overdosing is a real and scary possibility. For the sake of the many, we must shoot straight and keep things simple.

Lucky for us, the experts have already done that for us. They recommend hand hygiene, masks, and six feet of space. We know that hand hygiene prevents the ingestion of droplets, masks prevent the spread of droplets, and space is a safety measure against both. Interestingly enough, each of these interventions is natural and non-toxic.

I will continue using natural approaches for myself and my family and patients. I will continue to care about the emotional/mental/spiritual consequences of this pandemic. I will continue to admit when I’m wrong and allow myself to change my mind as needed. But I will always, always consider two things as priorities – listening to expert opinion, and remaining concerned for my community.

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COVID-19 health & wellness life in alaska life lately

My COVID-19 Story

The following is a thread of tweets I posted on October 29, 2020, following my bout with COVID-19. I had a fairly mild case, but I gave it to a few family members and the whole thing dragged on for weeks. When I felt ready to discuss it online, I went to Twitter first. Naturally. I’m now ready to post it to this blog. Instagram? They can just come and find it. Such is the way of things these days.

I have yet to build a social network in my new town, so I’m home a lot. Life looks like work, grocery store, post office, church. I wear a mask for all of the aforementioned, and additional daily screening is required at work. I let my guard down one weekend, for a small staff retreat (husband is a worship pastor) with several couples I’d already been around for months. No hugging or close chats, but no masks in the house.

The following Friday, seven days later, I underwent my biweekly testing for work (long-term care facility). It is a state test, and results take several days. I had felt off all week, but there were several possible causes. This test (eventually) came back negative. But the next morning, Saturday, I received a call that someone had the staff retreat had later tested positive and was most likely contagious at the time. I couldn’t risk going back to work without a rapid test. I pushed for a rapid test at work and asked a physician colleague put in the order for me (this is a privilege). They didn’t want to waste a test just for exposure, when my other one was still pending and I wasn’t symptomatic. But we got it done.

The rapid result came back positive a few hours later, and I was symptomatic by then. Thankfully, everyone at the staff retreat agreed to get tested and I had no other contacts or exposures to disclose. I later learned about my previous negative test, which means I was most likely not infectious at work. My patients and coworkers all tested negative. Strangely, so did everyone else at the staff retreat, despite having closer contact with the other positive person than I did.

My COVID-19 symptoms, in order from terrible to tolerable: lack of smell/taste, fatigue, shortness of breath, body aches, cough, sinus burning, congestion. Today is day 20 and I’m better, but not feeling normal yet. Worse than the physical symptoms was the shame. I had to answer to Alaska’s state epidemiology department, hospital leadership, long-term care leadership, and public health. Everyone was gracious, but it was an emotional few days at the beginning. I just moved here. I haven’t made professional connections yet. It was hard to pick up the phone each time and not feel defensive or want to pass blame. But like I said, everyone was gracious.

My husband tested positive about a week after me. It hit him harder (same symptom profile), but he felt better faster. My daughter tested positive after him. She had a headache and fever for two hours one night; it spontaneously resolved and she hasn’t had a complaint since. The rest of the kids are negative. They didn’t want to test anyone in my family until they were symptomatic, but they eventually let me do the kids. I kinda wish they’d all gotten it. I’d love a family full of antibodies!

We’ve been in isolation/quarantine since October 10. Isolation is for 10 days, after positive test or first symptom. Quarantine is for the household, for 14 days. It starts after isolation for the positive person is complete. We never separated; too intense/unreasonable for us. I’m now back at work. My time off was paid for by the hospital (again, a privilege). I’ve been instructed not to get tested for at least 90 days. I’m curious about an antibody test someday. The kids’ school went remote as a result of our cases (plus a few – our small town had a small spike). We’ll hope for their return before Thanksgiving. We’ll continue to wear masks and socially distance, and follow recommendations. The science came to our house and it was real.

I made a joke at the beginning of this thing in March, that I’d volunteer to get sick if it could help build immunity in our community and spare an elder or vulnerable person. It wasn’t funny but hey, put down three more tally marks for our town’s “recovered” total! In conclusion, The Kincaids are glad and grateful to be on the other side of COVID-19.

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life in alaska life lately

weekend report

It feels absolutely crazy to be writing this from bed on a Sunday afternoon. Last weekend, when we started up the football games, I abruptly shouted ALRIGHT IT’S TIME FOR ME TO GO TO WORK at the precise time I used to leave the house each Sunday. After a good laugh, we also praised God out loud. Chris said he had a weird feeling in his stomach. What a long few years that was, working every weekend and filling my nights with papers and study. Hear me say this, it was totally doable. If you’re in the thick of back-to-school-as-an-adult, or working multiple jobs, or managing opposite schedules from your partner, you know what I mean. It’s not fun, and it’s hopefully not forever, but it’s doable. But phrases like making it work and let’s just get through this have a time limit. The goal is to get to the other side. Right now for us, the other side is beautiful. In the future, I hope to devote some of my free time to community and service, but… Covid-19. In the meantime, weekends are a nice mix of family time and introverted bliss.

I left work on Friday evening and picked up our Shabbat meal (burgers and fries). We slept in on Saturday and drove several towns up the peninsula for some fall foliage, Mexican food, and a chainsaw. We stopped off at a river full of glacial water, showing off its turquoise beauty even on a cloudy day. I started a new novel (The Great Alone; thanks for recommending it, guys… and it’s set near our new home, so check it out for a glimpse of our town!) I cried through family move night (Togo; all dog movies get me and can you tell we are about all things Alaska these days?). I spent some extra time in the bathroom on my face. I spent some extra time helping my kids take notes from Matthew 13 during church. I watered all of my plants. I took extra deep breaths when the patience wore thin. I drank iced vanilla lattes. I worshipped. Last weekend, I reaped the harvest of my months-long labor to propagate my ficus trees and make my own mint extract. Next weekend, I hope to hand wash my delicates and take a drive around town to look at the changing leaves.

I miss paved parking lots and being able to wear high heels. I miss Chick Fil A and the glimmer of city lights. I miss the sound of cicadas outside of our farmhouse. But the slowing down in a subarctic small town has been incredibly good for us. For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. I will not look to the past or the future for satisfaction that may be found in the present.

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community politics & leadership the whole & simple gospel

I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.

I see the world in one giant connected picture. Everything is linked to everything else, both in my brain and in the way I communicate. Sometimes I let things build before I pour it all out, in a waterfall of sorts, for my husband or a friend or a coworker. This could be a happy waterfall, or a frustrated one. But it usually involves a string of thoughts that make a whole lot of sense to me, and may be difficult for others to track. My counselor recently advised me to take the person on an artistic journey with me when I talk, where all of my thoughts are like pieces of a big painting and eventually, if we all hang in together, everything makes sense in a cohesive way. It’s been so helpful! And it happened the other day, as my husband and I did the dishes.

Maybe it was those heavy-hitting words from Galatians I’ve been reading for the last couple of weeks. Maybe it was the worship playlist, where song after song invoked miracles and breakthrough and big moves of God without mention of the daily disciplines associated with knowing his voice. Maybe it was the racist video shared to a friend’s social media feed, posted by a leader in her church. Maybe it was the look-back at the multiple churches we’ve served throughout the years, each with its own ideas on reaching the lost and taking care of the found. But suddenly, I was ready to say a lot of the things about the Church’s influence today. It boils down to a feeling not unlike the parent in a stare-down with her kid. I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.

I came into 2020 fully expecting the usual election year fanfare. I was ready for the divisive conversations, the gut reactions, the echo chambers, the emotional heat, the conspiracies, the apathy, the pride, and the self-preservation. Believe it or not, we’ve been here before. I see it and feel it and fight it myself, every time I gear up to vote. Although we’re told this election matters every two years, this one feels particularly historic for multiple reasons. First, there’s the current context. We’ve got a global pandemic, mass protests, and even wildfires. I don’t remember an election season where candidates couldn’t campaign. Second, social media looks different than any election past. This President is the first to maintain a personal online presence during his term. It’s also the first Presidential election cycle since Instagram launched its stories feature, which enables and encourages us to process in real time.

So while none of these problematic dynamics come as a shock to me, I am unsettled by professing Christians’ participation in them. I am discouraged by the hyperbolic inflammatory and militarized language, leveled against people and positions. I am frustrated by the notion that American Christians are persecuted or oppressed, an affront to our brothers and sisters overseas who are jailed or killed for their faith. I feel irritated by sermons that spend more time arguing against social justice movements than they do exhorting congregants to take care of their hungry neighbors. I get defensive when I watch influential people give interviews, write books, and post about God and politics but never mention Jesus or his work on the cross. I feel conflicted when Christians I know and love rush to applaud and promote those voices. I am worn out by the extremeness of it all, on any side of any topic on any given day. I am saddened at the realization that the yuckiest conversations I’ve had this year have been with fellow believers. On an encouraging note, some of the most generous and fruitful talks I’ve experienced have been with people who previously wanted nothing to do with faith. I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.

Politics actually energizes me. Beyond the civic duty element, I enjoy learning about and following along with current events in our nation and beyond. I stay hopeful about the direction of our country. I do not feel the sky is falling. I will not buy into that narrative. I believe that as a Jesus follower, I am in this world and not of it… so I shouldn’t act like it.

Of course the world is on fire. It’s been falling apart since Genesis 3. Of course people hurt each other, and choose themselves over their neighbors. Of course we’re battling racism, global warming, poverty, human trafficking, greed and corruption, an unstable economy, and and and. But! There is good news! Believers have an answer to these painful realities. His name is Jesus. And with his gospel as our foundation, we can work toward practical solutions to those problems. However, it’s difficult to move on to topics like missional living and disciple-making and world peace when the Bride of Christ is still confused about the definition and implications of the gospel. I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.

I love the Church. I think she’s beautiful and bright, despite her brokenness. I know she will survive 2020 because she has survived for thousands of years, in times just as dark and heavy as these. More so, I believe she will thrive and grow and be a blessing to the nations. But the people within the Church? The people who call her home? We’ve got to remember what home looks like. It’s not America, or the church we attend, or the political party that promises to support our issues. Home is the kingdom of God, and it’s time to get upside-down.

To follow Jesus is to go last. To love Jesus is to lay down rights and preferences. To follow Jesus is die to self. To love Jesus is to use freedom to serve neighbor. To follow Jesus is to walk away from idolatry and hatred and discord, and run toward peace and patience and kindness. This is the Biblical definition of a Christian. It is counter-cultural. It is inconvenient. It is costly. It is worth it. In Jesus’ name.

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health & wellness the whole & simple gospel

Look good. Fit in. Stand out.

I just found this in my drafts, from two years ago. I don’t even want to edit it first. Published and still preaching it to myself.

In elementary school, I got glasses and braces during the same week. I have a distinct memory of trying to wear a training bra to school and sneaking it off near my cubby because it was so uncomfortable. In middle school, I received comments about my appearance and size that I will never forget. I didn’t even start my period until after I learned to drive. In high school, the boys I liked were either interested in my friends or in what I was doing after dark so they could keep me a secret.

It goes far beyond physical appearance, but this feels like an easy place to start unpacking. These seemingly small moments were actually foundational in my development as a woman and a follower of Jesus. Over the years, I’ve struggled to see God as a kind Dad with unconditional love for me, a God who desires nothing from me but a relationship. I’ve struggled to understand and know intimacy within my marriage the way God designed it.

The thing is, I was popular. I was on the cheerleading squad. I didn’t struggle with weight and I could let my hair air dry without problems. I easily found plans on the weekends. I always had a date to the dance (minus senior prom… but hey, getting dumped just beforehand only helped me grow into the powerful, capable introvert I am today, right?). I even experienced a couple of legitimate dating relationships with decent dudes. But all of the weird, negative memories still live inside of me, etched in as a piece of my upbringing. Although I was never bullied or made to feel like an outcast, I knew from an early age what it took to be successful with people – specifically, men.

Look good. Fit in. Stand out.

I’ve been a Christian for practically my entire life, and I’ve always known God as loving and forgiving. Somewhere along the way, though, I slowly made him into a school principal or a coach or a guy I desperately wanted to notice me. Once I was in God’s family and on his team, I told myself, he needed me to perform.

Look good. Fit in. Stand out.

This is why I push multi-generational community so hard. This is why I don’t shut up about the importance of reading my Bible. This is why I’ve been in and out of counseling for most of my adult life. This is also why I’m still uncomfortable changing clothes in front of my husband. This is also why I don’t love speaking on stage. This is also why I hesitate to try anything new that might result in my failing or looking stupid.

I was not careful with who I allowed to influence me. I did not pay attention to what I read and watched, or to whom I listened. God’s voice was there all along, telling me who he was. Who I was. Whose I was. What I meant to him. He tried to tell me that his yoke was easy and his burden was light. But in my American culture, in my wealthy school full of privilege, in my good-looking and high-achieving family, in my swirl of adolescent hormones, I made a dangerous choice early on.

I will earn my way to God. I will maintain right-standing with him, without help. I will not need grace. I will look good. I will fit in. I will stand out. Even if it kills me.

Until it nearly did. It nearly killed me. And I got help. I’m in spiritual recovery, now and forever, learning each day to let a good Father show me grace in new ways. It will be a lifelong journey, for sure, but I’m grateful to know truth and grow from it.

I know now that when God looks at me, he sees his son. So by default, by the work of the cross, I look good. I fit in. I stand out. In Jesus’ name.

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#getaftergrateful life in alaska

Only in Homer

It’s easy to find sweetness right where I am. I’ve been working on cultivating a lifestyle of gratitude for years now, and a #getaftergrateful list is never far from my lips. It’s also easy to see a photo of someone enjoying 80+ degree weather and find myself pining for somewhere else. In addition to being over-the-top careful about what I view on social media these days, I decided to make a list of things I can enjoy only in Homer, Alaska.

  • I can hike a mountain and splash in the sea on the same outing.
  • I can use phrases like stopping by the post and Do you need anything from the market?
  • I can order a delicious iced latte from no fewer than five coffee shops in the same three block stretch.
  • I can watch bald eagles soar through the sky.
  • I can leave for church ten minutes before service starts and still make it in time for the opening song.
  • I can enjoy a fire in June.
  • I can eat fresh fish for free.
  • I can eat berries for free.
  • I can get to know (and learn from!) every single medical provider in town.
  • I can hold starfish in my hands.
  • I can read a book on the beach, and then walk back home to cook dinner.
  • I can collect wool sweaters.
  • I can take an entire hour to water my plants and hand wash my delicates.
  • I can take naps and read books in bed in the middle of the day.
  • I can cook without a crock pot.
  • I can order peaches from California and line up on delivery day.
  • I can remind myself of God’s promises, thanks to the almost-daily rainbows we enjoy.
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