You've Been Warned

I’m not sure why I’m always surprised when I hear of tragic or volatile things that happen in the world or down the street or in my life.  The Bible is full of secrets to this life and deep waters.  And I forget that.  Sometimes I still feel like I did when I believed that false belief that says if you don’t read the Bible then God won’t like it and you’ll feel guilty.  Just because I have a theological degree doesn’t mean I understand everything or don’t fall into old patterns.  Do you know your pastors and youth pastors and small group leaders are human?  Do you know they’re broken?  They doubt and question and fear, I promise you.  

And I think that should bring you hope.

God wants us to take Him seriously when He says that trouble will come, but to take heart, because He has overcome the world.  Do you get that?  Those three pieces.  

It's on it's way, but hold fast, because I've already conquered this.

When people ask me why God lets horrible things happen, I wish I could remember to talk with them about this verse.  Scripture, the inherent Word of God, one of the few things I’d stake my life on, comes out freely and openly and says things are going to get really, really difficult.  Not that it might or could.  That it will.  It’s on its way.  And no one is exempt.  Not pastors or rock stars or you or me.  

And I don’t think God means trouble like you’ll get a flat tire or the store will be out of marshmallows on your way to a bon fire.  I think He means suffering.  Serious, life-shaking, up all night and I’m ready to renounce my faith because this is so incredibly horrible and exhausting and confusing, suffering.  I bet you have cried over this trouble.  And if you haven’t, I’m sure you will.  You want to know why I think that?  Not because my glass is half empty.  I say this because the Bible tells us straight that storms are brewing and that we are one phone call away from it.

But Jesus also says to take heart.  That He has overcome.

Jesus wants us to take Him seriously when He says that He has overcome the world.  I’ll confess, I just used the synonyms tab for the word ‘overcome’.  Here’s what came up:  affected, blown-away, bowled over, defeated, conquered, overthrown, swept off ones feet. My favorite synonym that came up is ‘visibly moved’.  

God has visibly moved the world.

And He has, hasn’t He?

Action and Reaction Almost Rhyme

Someone recently pulled aside my father-in-law outside of the church walls and told him my husband and I don't dress appropriately to church on Sundays.  "There's just a way we do things around here." 

Keep in mind, we aren't wearing bathing suits.  We're wearing jeans.  And not even the neon colored ones.

I had been told this to my face a few times from other people in this particular church.  When it happened, I looked them in the eye, forcing them to look into mine and hopefully view me as a human being rather than an object of disapproval.  It prompted a roll-your-eyes-when-you-walk-away-and-say-a-short-prayer-for-them response in me.  But saying something to my father-in-law?  That made me angry.  I don't know why my reaction was that of surprise when I found this guy went out of his way to be judgmental.   That people still conduct themselves this way.  I guess I thought we had grown up a little.

But the Bible is littered with crap like this.  Almost like God was trying to warn us.

It really could get this ridiculous.

While people still act like this and it's extremely sad, people still react like me, which is also extremely sad.  Criticism, skepticism, and reciprocal judgement rather than redemptive anger, sorrow over sin, and prayer.  Just as his criticism lacked redemptive breath, so did my mental reaction.

I'll be the first to admit my humanity, but in the same banner, I'll also be the first to admit I believe we are called to holiness despite the circumstance.  While it is our responsibility not to conduct ourselves like fools, it's also our responsibility not to react like fools.  


"Be holy, for I am holy."


Other people's behavior does not give you or me the freedom to respond in judgement.  We have been given a mandate to strive for holiness, to live a life set apart despite the way other people choose to spend their time or use their words.  A life that undeniably echoes the love and grace of our sweet Savior.  And that mandate alone frees us to react with the kind of redemptive anger that holds hands with redemptive love.

God doesn't give us the go ahead to look like idiots when we respond to sighting sin.  Instead, He frees us to react with genuine intention, and maybe with some solid rebuke.

Our criticism can't save anyone.  It disenchants people not only with "church folk", but more so, disenchants people with the God who knows the number of hairs on your head.  It serves as a poor and unjust reflection of the God who spills stars into the sky we all share.  And we do reflect Him whether it's our finest moment or not - you know this right?

I remember seeing an interview with Katy Perry once, and this was a long time ago.  But she made a comment about how she had no desire to be a role model for anyone.  And I remember thinking to myself, that's a ridiculous thing to say.  You have no choice in the matter.

He said we would be the body, we would be His hands and His feet in the world.  And not just some ambiguous "in the world", but in our communities.  In our churches.  With each other.  We will reflect Him.  God cares about the way we treat one another.  The way we act and the way we react.

Don't you know the hymn?  They'll know we are Christians by our love...

Memento Mori

It's never easy when somebody dies.

Our church sends e-mail alerts all the time about people sick or in the hospital or recent deaths-in-the-family.  I hate getting those e-mails because while I see them as prayer requests, others see them as people.  People they adore.

A tragic and beautiful thing happened this week.  A sweet, mission-minded, 23 year old young lady left this side of eternity.  Some would say she went too soon, but that's human talk.  This was the time the Lord had designated before there were oceans.

What gives me rest is knowing she would have wanted to go if her work was done.  She loved and feared the Lord, and she wasn't in the business of wasting time.  She was in the business of redeeming it.

I know this because she was my roommate my freshman year of college.

The accident happened en route to do things that were covered in the aroma of Jesus.  She spent two restful weeks in a hospital, and then onto bigger and better things she went.  I can't help but wonder if the few good days she had during the two weeks she was in a coma were when she saw her sweet Savior for the first time.  When He came for her.  He promises to do this, you know.

Some never think it will be them.   We don't think death happens to people we know.  Maybe our grandparents, because they're old.  But not us.  Or we're the other extreme and live (if you can call it that) in fear of everything.  Like cancer or car accidents are lurking behind every tree.  Neither of these are healthy, and neither will save us.

The reality is we're all going to die one day.  It could be forty years from now.  It could be tomorrow.  We just don't know when our time is up.  That scares some people.  It shouldn't.  It should motivate you.

God doesn't sleep.  This is freedom.  

That doesn't mean I feel comfortable standing in my closet, picking out clothes to wear to say goodbye.  The nausea and anxiety that come with searching through black dresses is still too much to handle.  My husband will probably have to pack my bags for me.

I just have hope in this God who makes promises.  This God who loves us.  And oh, how He loves us.

My friend only had 23 years in the grand narrative that is God's story.  She died serving this Jesus that scooped her up before death could bat an eye in her direction.  I desire to serve this Jesus, too.


Not wasting time with things that aren't in the business of unveiling the Kingdom at hand has to be a conscious decision.


If children are still going hungry and lost people are still lost, then there's some stuff we just don't have time for.

We've got things to do.

I don't take Jesus seriously.

When I pulled into the Memorial Home, I wasn't even sure where to park. Where I was expecting a parking lot full with vehicles belonging to family visitors, there was only a small circle of gravel big enough to fit three cars. And it was empty. I pulled in and took in the sight. The size of the dead tree in the front yard demanded attention; it's branchs curved and reached toward the ground as though they were crying out in thirst. A broken wooden fence surrounded the front of the one story building. It reminded me of an old schoolhouse, scattered with patches of terminal grass where flowers used to grow. I guess the flowers don't bother anymore. A woman in a red sweater came out the front door and stood on the porch and stared at me as though I was some sort of dangerous intruder, interrupting my thoughts. A dog followed behind her.

That must be Carolyn.

Carolyn runs the Memorial Home for the Aged in Laurens, South Carolina.  It's a home for the elderly who can't afford assisted living or a nursing home yet can no longer care for themselves. The place doesn't even have a website.  You can find the phone number from people who know people who have lived in this small town for a while.  Without Carolyn, the 38 people currently housed at would be homeless. Even the ones who have family have only Carolyn. Those they love are long gone with stolen inheritances, retirement, and estates they did not earn. All prodigal's sons who never came home. So when I say theses people would be homeless, I mean homeless.  On the streets.  Surely dead.

The Memorial Home used to be run by a board, who were responsible to "the county". So essentially, Laurens County was responsible for the Memorial Home and the board made decisions on their behalf. The actual name of the facility is the Laurens Memorial Home for the Aged, which I refuse to call it. Staff, finances, sanitation, the whole parade used to be the responsibility of the county, and eventually they decided it was no longer their responsibility. In Carolyn's words, the dedicated people on the board were told to sink or swim, but they'd do it without the support of the county. Carolyn was on this board.

Twenty some years after that conversation, I'm sitting across from this woman, wondering what on earth she was thinking. 

The tears overflowing from her seasoned eyes as she told me story after story about souls she deeply cared for would have brought the most apathetic to their knees. The scent of a decaying building and bodies were most abundantly mixing with the stories she hummed; both still grasping for what life is left in them. But what I will tell you, is that stories like hers and those she gives her life to make better should never die. Compassion is real. I have seen it.

I try and visit Carolyn at the Memorial Home more often than once in a while.  I hope it reminds her somebody cares about what she's doing; it reminds me good people really do exist.  I asked her recently why she hasn't written a book about all the things she's seen, all the redemption she's encountered.  An account of how God dips His finger into this depravity.  She laughs and coughs at the same time.  She says nobody would believe her.  She says the stories are too ridiculous.

I have come to find out Carolyn has battled cancer for years.  Her husband is also terminally ill. They live in a small house fifty paces from the Memorial Home.  And this - this is how they've chosen to spend their time.  All of it.


The rest of it.

Carolyn Penland will never write a book. She'll never hold a weekend conference in Nashville or be a well-known, eloquent blogger. She'll never be known for her sepia-induced photography or have a booth at a Christian music festival. She is a woman who took on something that wasn't her problem to own.  And yet now, it fully encompasses her existence.  People are depending on her to stay alive.

Do you remember one of the last things that Jesus told His disciples in the upper room? He tells them that where He's going they can't go. And then He tells them to love one another, as He has loved them.

I can just imagine how different would things look if we took Jesus seriously for once.  If I took Him seriously when He says He has to leave for a while, but He'll be back for us.

"Take care of each other."