life lately

New Year, new writing.

When I first downloaded it in 2010, I had no idea how much Instagram would change my life. At the risk of sounding cheesy, it is probably the most influential social media platform of my generation. While Twitter is and will always be my favorite, Instagram has replaced the family camera and the photo books. It’s become a gathering place for moms, creatives, and people looking for inspiration and sense of connectedness on the vast expanse that is the world wide web.

Instagram didn’t replace my blog. Writing on a blog less and less as the years progressed was an intentional choice. I simply could not keep up with life at a healthy pace during some seasons, and writing regularly on my blog was an easy thing to let go. I was content to pick up new thoughts and ideas on Twitter, and lay them down to rest on Instagram – along with a keepsake photo to reflect on for the rest of my life.

Instagram didn’t replace my blog. But Instagram just isn’t enough for 2016. I want this year to be the one where I return to this blog on a regular basis. I want this year to be the one where I place those long captions on this space, instead of Instagram. I want this year to be the one where I allow those inspiring photographs to move me to write, to expound, to express in a more formal format. I want this year to be the one where I make room for that and the expense of spending time in other corners of the Internet.

I’m not entirely sure what that looks like. Maybe I’ll coordinate my photos on Instagram with the posts here, like I’ve done today. Maybe I’ll try to post on Instagram even more intentionally than I do now, maybe only when I have thoughts organized enough for this space. I’m not sure.

But I do know that I gave a lot of the stuff to the Lord in December and asked him what he wanted to do with it. And I do know that he brought me back here. And after nearly thirteen years of writing online, I’m only all too happy to obey the Spirit’s leading.

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#getaftergrateful

#getaftergrateful

 

I’m a big fan of the grace and works tension. I like to explore it, talk about it, roll around in it, and most of all – I like to apply it to my life on a regular basis. We know that God’s grace is what compels us to shift His kingdom forward, but it’s also what compels us to put praise on our lips even when we don’t feel like it. When we apply the Good News to our lives in a moment-by-moment way, it literally changes our lives. That’s what I want to lead women to do this month.

There are a lot of reasons to be thankful this month, and there are lot of people out there encouraging you to do it. I don’t want to add to the noise but I do want to whisper in your ear, Who is it you’re thanking? And what happens when you don’t feel like giving thanks? I want to encourage you to explore gratitude in your own heart and as a result, walk a little closer to Jesus in November.

I want to see you get after it. Dig deep, as deeply as you need to. Find a way to put praise on your lips, even when it hurts. Gratitude is worship, and I’d love to hear you get loud this month. Join me on Instagram using the hashtag #getaftergrateful, whenever you feel like getting tenacious about thanking Jesus for what He’s doing in your life!

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life lately motherhood

We just make do and it’s beautiful.

When my stepson started growing out his hair, he stole my hairbrush. He’s always been very particular about his space and his belongings, and his hygiene routine is no exception. I’ve bought him products and I’ve taught him how to handle his beautiful curls as best as I know how, but I’ve got straight hair (much to my disappointment) and so I’ve sort of just let him run with whatever works best for him.

Anyway, he stole my hairbrush. I tried to convince him he didn’t even really need one with those curls, but he developed this ritual of brushing it out after the shower and after a few weeks I gave up trying to get it back. A few weeks after that, I gave up the trips upstairs to “borrow” it. A few months after that, I realized I didn’t even miss it. I’m not sure how long it’s been, now. At least a year, I think?

Isn’t it crazy how we just make do? When people find out we only have clawfoot tubs in our house, or that we don’t have a dishwasher, it gives me the same realization. Those things sound weird to me too but somewhere along the way, we just made do with what we had. Instead of brushing my hair, I just run my fingers through my hair or use of the little kids’ combs. I take baths, and I wash my hair in the sink when it feels really important. We hand wash our dishes and take turns drying and build community in that kitchen and whip each other with towels and make up after fights while we scrub. We just make do and it’s beautiful.

Don’t get me wrong, I keep meaning to buy a new hairbrush. I want a total bathroom makeover (times two) in our house. And please oh please, Lord Jesus and husband of mine, may I have a new kitchen before I die? I just find it so interesting how easily we adapt to our circumstances. Once we quit fighting the change or complaining about where we are and where we aren’t, we have the space to shake our heads clear of the cobwebs and look around. A “make do” attitude gives us room to grow and thrive and find the beauty in new territory we never wanted to take to begin with.

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motherhood the whole & simple gospel

Freedom on a tether.

The John 15 passage is rooted deeply within me – pun intended, I guess. I grew up hearing about the vine and the branches all of the time. Even still, abiding is a huge piece of my daily walk with Jesus. I wrote about it last week, in fact. But I also grew up with this idea that the vine and the branches concept was an omen, a reminder that your life wasn’t going to be as fun once you were tethered to Jesus. There was this sense that I’d be giving up something if I chose to follow Him.

And over the last several years, I’ve learned that I couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I’ve learned that the fun begins when I decide to let God have his way with my life. The real adventure begins when I plant my feet firmly in his truth and let him guide my path. The vine and branches passage isn’t meant to drag me down or lock me up. It’s meant to set me free.

When we took our kids to the beach earlier this summer, my baby couldn’t stay away from the water. From the moment we set her down, she ran right to it, squealing with delight. But she always stopped just short, waiting for me. Once I had her in my arms, though, it was on. She would lean as hard as she could into the water, one arm around mine and the other splashing at the waves. Again, Momma, again. Always headed out to sea, but still holding onto me. She found freedom in that, in a wild adventure that started in her mother’s arms.

And if I can be cheesy and honest? That’s exactly what my life with Jesus has become. A wild adventure, one I experience while rooted deeply and tethered sweetly to a Father who might let me get wet, but who will never let me drown. And it’s realizations like this that make me ask, Why can’t everyone experience the Lord like I do? So I figure I might as well spread that Good News or die trying.

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community the whole & simple gospel

On abiding… we’re just getting started.

The topic of abiding comes up a lot amongst women, especially in the summer. We are big fans of rest and slowing down our rhythms. It’s important to remember where we get our strength and peace and inspiration. The God who gives it loves nothing more than to share it with us while we’re curled up at His feet or sitting on His lap like little kids. Abiding is crucial, essential to the Christian faith. My own best friend created a product for the very concept.

I think we love it, but we’re bad at it. I think we fight the idea of abiding, in the sense that things get a little too quiet and still for our comfort. If we don’t keep the plates spinning, our world may actually fall apart. Because we’ve grown up in a world that doesn’t take margin seriously, we’re not quite sure how to build it into our lives. It feels scary and boring. Make no mistake, though, abiding is not boring. In fact, nothing about the Christian life should ever feel stagnant. Every fiber of faith is active.

It started out with a Jesus who came into the world and walked among men and touched people with his hands and died on a cross and rose from the dead. It continued when he called us to go out into the world and make disciples, followers, of every nation. There was a lot of walking involved. And even more so, there was a lot of dreaming involved. People had literally never heard of the ideas about which Jesus spoke. What a stretching and growing time for those folks, to get their worlds turned upside and choose to trust a Savior, the Deity they’d always heard about as children.

And even to this day, that is exactly what abiding feels like. It’s a stretching and growing time. It’s letting Jesus turn our worlds upside down while we hang out in his presence. It’s choosing to trust a Savior who asks us to get a little uncomfortable sometimes. And we catapult out of summer and into the busy season of routines and schedules and noise, let’s not forget that abiding is what gives us the strength and peace and inspiration to do all of those things well. The season of rest may be over… but we’re just getting started.

 

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motherhood

He was loving me anyway.

I cannot remember the last time I wrote about my kids, but I’ve got some stuff bubbling up that’s too long for Instagram. So I’m going mommy-blogger here for a few posts…

I constantly feel like I’m keeping my baby boy at arm’s length. Feel free to psychoanalyze me. Maybe it’s because his tastes are different from mine, even at this young of an age. I often think to myself, I hope he turns out cool. Why is he laughing at that? Maybe it’s because his birth and infancy were hard for me. I spent a lot of hours staring at him instead of holding him, trying to figure out how to get him to fall in love with me. Maybe it’s some sort of buried guilt that he’s about to start kindergarten and I never stayed home full-time with him as a baby, though I think we all know how well that would’ve turned out. Maybe it’s razor-sharp memory, the one that allows him to describe the outfit he was wearing the day I missed an event at preschool.

Whatever it is, I put it in my head that it’s caused a rift. I constantly feel like I’m keeping my baby boy at arm’s length. And I don’t want that. I’m crazy about him, and I want him to feel it. I want him to like me. I want him to look at me and feel joy. I want him to forget about all of the times I’ve let him down and hurt him. I want him to give me grace. I want him to believe the best in me. Wait a minute, do I want my son to act like Jesus?

Last night, I took my boy on a date and I actually felt nervous at times. It’s been a few months since we were alone like that, and I didn’t know what to expect from this kid who’s getting older by the second. Would he hold my hand? Would he enjoy our time together? The answer is yes, to all of those things. At one point, he wrapped both arms around both of my legs and I felt all of that weird stuff just melt away. It hit me as he sat on my lap at one stop, letting me scratch his back. He was loving me anyway. All of this time.

He does like me. He does look at me and feel joy. He might remember all of the times I’ve let him down, but he gives me grace. He believes the best in me. He acts like Jesus. And as if to answer my thoughts, two different times throughout the night I heard him say, “Momma? You’re the best momma I ever had.”

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community politics & leadership racial reconciliation the whole & simple gospel

We must learn.

Now more than ever, I feel that Jesus followers must learn to live in the tension around us. Our generation absolutely cannot afford to get this wrong. We must learn to live in the tension in our neighborhoods, our marriages, our friendships, and especially our roles as mothers. As a living, breathing vessel of God’s presence and love, I have to get to the point where I’m okay with not having all the answers.

There are gay people attending my church, men and women who want to get to know Jesus better without leaving their old lives behind. There are women of color with whom I connect online from all over the country, women who carry a painfully different perspective on community and justice than I do. There are days I swear up and down my husband would be a little more like Jesus if he’d just listen to me, but he doesn’t. And there are days I look at my kids like they are aliens and I can’t figure out why God gave them to me and I wonder if we will all make it out alive.

And that’s just it. That’s the gospel. Jesus gave me his life so that I don’t have to have mine all figured out. Not only that, Jesus gave me his life so that I can tell others that they don’t have to have theirs all figured out either. I can make disciples of people without fixing all of their problems. And that is good news.

So back to this idea of living in tension, the concept that has completely derailed me recently. I am a huge, HUGE fan of the grace versus works tension and I want to hang out here for a minute. I’ve always been a hard worker and I grew up in the church, so naturally I lean towards this idea that idle hands are sinful and we all need to be doing our part all of the time. Recently, I even went so far as to pick a fight with my husband about when I feel it is the appropriate time of day to sit on the couch – after the kids go to bed. And yet, I’m quick to swing hard into the idea of grace and the simplicity of salvation when it applies to my own mess.

I believe that Jesus died on the cross and rose from the dead so that I could have life and life abundantly. I believe that he did it because he loved me, that my name was on his lips when he hung on the cross and when he walked out of the tomb. I know that all I have to do is believe with my mouth that Jesus is Lord and confess with my tongue that God raised him from the dead. I believe that I could sit on that truth for the rest of my life and do nothing about it, and that I’d still see him someday in heaven, smiling at me. And therefore, I’m thankful for grace.

But I also believe that faith without works is dead. I believe that the gospel compels. I believe that once we become Jesus followers, we’re left with a task of bringing heaven down to earth. That sounds like a beautifully heavy task, but a very clearly defined command. I believe that my entire life should be about the Great Commission, and going out into all the world to make disciples is an active charge. I believe God created me to be a hard worker, someone who loves moving and achieving and pressing forward. And therefore, I’m thankful for works.

So which is it? Grace or works? Where does this tension leave me? Can I find the sweet spot in the middle? And the answer, I think, is that there doesn’t have to be an answer. There doesn’t have to be a sweet spot. God is still good. He doesn’t need a sweet spot. He is the sweet spot. He is the answer. So I learn to live in the tension. And I can call it good, because He is good.

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