All together.

I know you feel like you need to have it all together.

Before you can do ministry.  Before you can write the book you want to write.  Before you can pursue design school.  Before you can do whatever it is you truly desire.  I know you feel like everyone else is further along than you, and you just need to get a little bit better before you attempt to reach your full potential, or any potential.

Can I tell you something?  Nobody has it all together.  That's a myth.

No one has the perfect job.
No one has the perfect marriage.
No one has perfect parenting skills.
No one has a perfect walk of faith.

Stop bathing in the muddy water of "all together".  It will only keep leaving you thirsty.  You don't have to have to have life all figured out before you can start living. You don't have to be perfect to pursue grace.

Grace.  

That's the stuff the good life is made of, anyways.  Grace in a broken, beautiful life.  It infiltrates the myth of perfection.  The myth that says you have to clean yourself up first.

It's crystal clear water.

Here we go....again.

I never changed majors in college.

I think statistically, someone changes their major seven or so times before they stick with something they really like.  That, or they've taken so many credits in one concentration area and graduation is quickly approaching so their decision is pretty much made for them.  I knew I wanted to go into Youth Ministry, and there was no stopping me. No minor.  No double major. I may as well have scribbled with a sharpie on a piece of torn cardboard the words  'youth ministry or bust' and taped it to my dorm room door.

As a graduate student, I have changed my Masters degree three times.  Looks like I did things a little backwards.

Social work seemed like the perfect option to make ministry practical.  How could I be qualified in the world's eyes to serve and be in an actual profession where you help people all day and get paid for it?  Getting a Master of Social Work would leave me with abundant career options.  I could work with kids or never work with kids again.  I could work in a hospital or non-profit.  Seemed like the perfect choice.

And I hated it.

I took one semester and was bored.  I didn't feel challenged.  My field supervisor had his M.Div and his MSW.  I had been interning with attorneys and social work advocates on behalf of the community of people with disabilities for almost 6 months.  When he came for his semester "check up", I told him I didn't know if I could handle another semester of disability advocacy.  It wasn't for me.

He told me I needed to decide if this whole profession was for me.  I wouldn't be the first to take a semester and walk away from the program.  And I wouldn't be the last.  He winked.

So I did.

I stepped out of vocational ministry to pursue my MSW, and then I found my hands empty of both.  I went back to retail and was reminded I was pretty good at sales.  I later became a sales representative for a school.  It was a love/hate relationship.  I loved promoting academics and working with students, but I hated constantly fearing for my job in a poisonous work environment where motivation was offered from supervisors in the form of threats, competition, and belittling.  One time, my direct supervisor told a co-worker I was useless, despite the fact I was in the top 3 representatives at our school and it was only my first term.  He also said another co-worker was stupid, but at least she had looks going for her.

Nauseated yet?

I decided I would pursue my MBA to prove ethics could be brought into business.  That whoever said business wasn't personal was a liar.  And to prove I was smarter than those who said I was useless.  I came to North Greenville University by accident.  (Or an act of God.  Whatever you want to call it.)  My theology adviser from undergrad sent me an email one day that read,

"Aren't we facebook friends?"

I messaged him on facebook and he asked if I was currently working in vocational ministry.

Was this some kind of graduation survey?  I sure hope not.  I ran ministries all through college.  What a disappointment I would look like.

He said his friend from graduate school was the Vice President of a graduate school in a town near where I was living.

"You guys should network."

The phone conversation with the guy was completely awkward.  I knew more about him than I should, and all we had in common was a mutual bald friend.

"So, Jeff tells me you're looking for work?"

Well, not exactly.

While my environment at work was poisonous, I made more money than I ever had.  Two weeks paid vacation up front, sick time, a retirement fund, opportunities to advance.  What more do you want in life?

Well, I wanted a whole lot more that to the world, probably looks like a whole lot less.

I am currently sitting at my desk as the Assistant to the Dean of Graduate Enrollment, making less money than I have in my entire life,  and I have completed my first week in my new Masters degree.  In what, you ask?

Christian Ministry.  Yikes.

I'm not sure if anyone can be a "master" of something like this, but we can sure try. We can search and question.  We can experience.  And oh, we can hope.  And we can bring hope to a hurting world.

And you don't need a Masters degree to do that.

I guess I'm trying to tell myself what I've been telling you all along - follow your passion.  Pursue what keeps you breathing, because if you haven't experience anything to knock the breath out of you yet, you will.  You can't fix everything.  You can't revolutionize the whole world.  You can't stay up until 2am watching Netflix and expect to be at the gym by 6am.  You aren't in college anymore.

But you can have child-like faith.  You can choose to pursue what you know deep beneath your rib cage you were created for.  And if you're not sure what you were created for, I'll tell you it's not a vocation.

It's much bigger than that.

Could today be different?

I always think God is angry with me.

Surely, my sin as of recent is no greater or less than my sin of before.  And yet, I constantly feel as though He is disappointed in His daughter.  I even see an image of him in my head with a shiny silver watch on His wrist and tapping his foot on days when I'm 15 minutes late to work, as though He's saying, "I blessed you with this opportunity - why would you disrespect Me in not valuing it enough to be here on time every day?"

Some days, it plagues me.  I ask forgiveness from God and forgiveness from those I've sinned against, and still don't feel any better.  Other days, I ask for grace and move on with the rest of the day.  But lately, I'll admit, I'm lucky if I can keep the negative thoughts in my brain quieter than the worship music on Pandora trying to out-scream it.

As I sit here at my desk at work listening to Kari Jobe cry out, "Hosanna! Hosanna!  Hosanna in the highest!", I feel completely unworthy of singing those words.  How could a perfect Savior love such a great sinner?  How could He want me in His family?  Would he really offer me a seat at the banquet?  How do I believe these things when I worry He wouldn't give me a second glance if I said His name in public?

And then I started thinking, what if instead, today I decided to believe the Lord has forgiven me and cleansed me of all my great sin?  What if I believed when He looks at me, He sees the blood of the lamb, and He sees me as perfect and blameless?  What if I believed He sees beauty and glory and righteousness, in that though I am a great sinner, He is greater still to cover me?

How different would your day look if you believed the same?  How different would today be if you stopped focusing on the shame and guilt that suffocate like thick black smoke, and decided to breathe the clean air of Truth?  The Truth that says,

"You are Mine and I will hold you close today, because my love for you is deeper than the oceans.  I don't care where you've fallen.  No one can charge you.  You're Mine."

I believe God made beauty in this day, and He wants you to enjoy it.  Breathe in His grace and the Truth that says God has deep affections for His people, and stop believing the lie Satan feeds you that somehow you could possibly out-sin the cross.

His love has not grown cold for you.

Man vs. Himself

I'm pretty forgetful in real life.  (My keys are always running away.)

Some days, I feel like I could seriously lose my mind.  It seems like I live at one end or the other of two extremes.  Either so much going on I can't think, or not enough going on and I have too much time to do nothing but think.  I have a feeling I'm not alone in this.

Sometimes I have to remind myself of stuff.  Like this sort of stuff.  Maybe you need to be reminded of some stuff, too.

You're allowed to be weak, even when you think it's silly.  Especially when you're at work and you're frustrated because you're folding the same table of dress pants for the fourth time...in the past hour.  Go in the bathroom and let the tears escape.  Then put on some fresh lip gloss and get back on your feet.  Your shift will be over soon enough.

You are resilient.  Remember the time in your life when you were in another country, and your host mother didn't like you?  Remember when that lady in church tried to ruin your reputation?  Remember how you moved 10 hours away from your family to place where you didn't know anyone?  Remember, you survived those things.  You will survive this, too.

Show yourself some grace.  The only person pressuring you to have all the answers right now is you.  Silence the voices in your head long enough to make peace with the fact that you're human.  You don't have to have it all together.  Not every decision you make is life or death.  If you want to make a big move in life, do it.  If it doesn't work out, then move on.  You hear me, Annie?  The sun will come out tomorrow.

God is faithful.  You will fall down in life.  You will also get back up.  He is the one who started the good work in you, and He promises to see it through infinity.  God's faithfulness is not dependent on your performance.

You have worth.  It's hard to imagine that a God who speaks oceans into being created you in His image, but He did.  Joy.  Grace.  Peace.  Victory.  This is your inheritance.  Sometimes you just have to proclaim things like this until you believe them.

Alone is not an option, even if you wanted it to be.

Genie in a Bread Pan

I’m lucky that my mind is barely in tact.  

Resistance, persistence, repeat.  

My mind has a mind of its own.  I’m not sure if I’ll ever breathe easy again.  Call me drama but call me human.  Maybe I’m not the crazy one – maybe the world has us so numb we wouldn’t know righteousness if it threw itself at us in an empty bar.  Don’t look at me like you know something I don’t, as though your life experience should be teaching me something.  Appease, release, repeat.    No thanks.

All I want to do is get through the day in tact. 

Color me human.

This Little Light - Part 2

A gentlemen came into Express the other day and spent a lot of money.  Like $350.  For us girls, that's nothing.  But I've never seen a guy drop $350 on so much clothing.  It was like he was filling up a newly built closet.

"About time for that new spring wardrobe?" I asked him.

"Well, not really."  He smiled and looked down.  "I kind of don't have anything to wear right now."   He bent down and sifted through the twenty rows argyle socks.  He picked the black and grey ones.

"You look well dressed to me!"  He looked really nice in fact.  I wondered if he needed a job.  We could use another guy with some fashion sense.  He was probably in his late twenties, blonde hair, clean shaven, wearing dress shoes.  What did we do with those job applications?

"It's complicated I guess.  She made me leave.  And I didn't have time to pack anything.  So....yeah.  I need some clothes."  Oh.

"Are you married?"  It was only after asking that and wishing I hadn't did I notice his thick gold wedding band.

"For right now I guess."  He offered a nervous laugh, still not looking me in the eye.  I stayed behind the cash wrap as he picked more socks.  Purple and grey.  Teal and navy.

"I'm sure it's not all lost.  How long have you been married?"  Why am I asking these questions?

"Seven years."  Wow.  He stood after choosing his fourth pair of socks to get the four for $25 promotional deal.  He set down the socks and looked at me.

"I guess the hard part is that we have a kid.  He's one and a half.  That's what makes it really hard, you know?  We have a son.  Yeah, sorry to get all serious on you.  But yeah."  He offered another nervous laugh and ran his hand through his hair.  "That's why I need some clothes."

"Marriage is definitely hard.  Trust me, I understand.  Did you get married young?"

"Oh, yeah.  I was 23," he said as he examined the same sweater in blue and in cream.

"Me too.  I was 21."  Now I was the one looking down.  "And I like the cream one."

"You got married young, too?  Yeah, so I'm sure you know."  He set the blue sweater aside and added the cream one to the top of his pile.

"You have no idea,"  I said.   Now who's getting weird and personal?  "Well, you must.  But you're certainly not alone.  Marriage is hard, I'm with you."

I took his socks and set them on the other side of the desk next to his large pile.  T-shirts, sweaters, a cardigan, a flannel shirt, colored dress pants, and socks.  Four pairs of them.  Oh, and the cream sweater.

He followed around to the other side and pulled out his wallet.  "Do you have good friends in Greenville?" I asked as I started ringing and taking the censors off his new wardrobe.  I wondered how long he'd have to wear these clothes.  How long would it take before she let him move back in?  I bet she was hurting too.  I started to pray in my head.

"Oh yeah.  The best.  I have really good friends.  Good friends from church.  I think that's the best part about the whole thing.  I found Jesus, or He found me rather.  I always knew about God growing up, but never about a relationship with Him.  Like I grew up in a Christian home and stuff.  Went to church.  I never really understood it though.  But now I do.  God had to break me in order for me to see Him clearly.  And it definitely worked.  I don't think He does that with everyone, but with me.  It's probably the only way He could've gotten my attention.  I have a lot of pride."

Wow.  Tell me how you really feel.

"That's really great.  It's good you see Him more clearly now.  That's the most important thing.  Jesus, you know."

At the sound of His name, he looked up at me for only the second time.

"I really wouldn't change my situation for the world right now, because I wouldn't have seen Him there.  I used to be wild, and now I'm paying for it.  She was done with it.  And it sucks, but it's okay, because there's grace.  God is forgiving me.  There's grace with Jesus.  I wouldn't change anything right now."

"Wow.   That's really brave of you to say.  You definitely can't out-sin the grace of God."

"I'm experiencing that for sure.  Thanks for your help.  And for, uh, listening?  Anyways.  See you later."

I handed him his bags and he was gone.

And it got me thinking, maybe there's a place for us, you know?  And there's a place for the parts of ourselves we'd rather leave on shelves to collect dust.  God is in the redemption business.  All the stuff that happens to us and all the stuff we bring upon ourselves.  He is redeeming it.  God said he was making ALL things new.  Not just the stuff we decide is appropriate to be redeemed or worthy of His efforts.

Do you know that you're worth His time?  He thought enough of you to step out of heaven.  He thought enough of His creation to breathe life into it despite it.  He formed you from ash and dust.  And He's redeeming you in this moment.

Do you know redemption is a process?  Sanctification doesn't happen overnight.

It's an uphill, gravel road.  And we're all barefoot.

Remember what I said about letting no place be left unlit?  (If not, you can read about it here.)  Even in a retail store, God cared enough to remind a guy whose marriage was falling apart and the girl ringing him up at the counter of the truth we all so often forget and so often need to be reminded of:

you are not alone.  You are never alone.

This Little Light - Part 1

I drank a Sprite at the movies today.  I never drink Sprite.

I should've known something in me was about to surface.

I've been feeling really conflicted lately.  Like, really conflicted.  About graduate school, about what vocational direction to take, if there is any redemptive quality in the stirrings of my soul that don't include vocational ministry.

I no longer feel conflicted.  I feel torn in half.  I'm trying to zip myself up like a black hooded sweatshirt with a silver zipper that fits together perfectly - every other little notch fitting just right.  When it's apart, it doesn't seem like it will fit together, no matter how hard I try.  And if you take both sides and just try to push them together without the zipper, it won't fit.  There's no way you could make those fit.  They need something to guide them together.  To weave them.  To direct them.  I guess what I'm trying to say, is that God is the zipper.  He's the zipper.  Only with Him at the center does it make any sense that these two ridiculously shaped pieces of metal would not only somehow fit together, but serve a function.  And it's simple, but it makes sense, so I'm holding tightly to it.  Nothing has made sense to me in a while.

You see, I got this ministry degree and was full of ambition and passion for the Gospel and carrying that out in vocational ministry.  Since then, I feel like there's no place for me.  Of course this world isn't our home so we shouldn't feel too comfortable, but I mean no place in ministry as my paid, full-time job.  Most recently, I decided to give vocational ministry a rest.  Stick it in a trunk at the foot of my bed and let it just rest for a while.  What prompted this?  (Are you sitting down?)

A lady at a church where I was working spread a multitude of lies about me to the degree where it would not only tear apart my professional reputation, but tear at my heart a little.  Okay, a lot.  I remember getting the phone call.  It was a Sunday night.

"I just think you should know what's being said about you."

I was shocked.  And horrified.  And humiliated.  And slightly amused at the ridiculousness of the whole accusation.

Stealing money?!  Like, from the church??  Are you kidding me?  That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!  Clearly she can't prove that.  All of my receipts for the church credit card are accounted for.  How could I steal from a credit card?  ...wait, she told parents this?  Did you just say she has told students this???

It just continued to get worse.  After the anger subsided, I cried a lot.  A LOT.  How could people be so mean?  This was worse than the time in middle school when girls on the bus made up a TV show where the whole plot was different ways they killed me.  (I later learned they totally copied this idea off South Park.  How unoriginal.)  These accusations were investigated of course, and proven untrue.  But despite that, I left the job I moved to South Carolina to take.

A graduate school professor told me recently that when it comes to your vocation, you have two things - your skills, and your reputation, and you must maintain both.  Your skills are all on you.  The tricky part is your reputation, because others can try and mess with that one.  It is within your rights to preserve your reputation.  This is your life.  You have a right to preserve those things.  You are worthy of self-respect.  And I must have agreed with her.

Can I tell you something?  I just wanted to love those kids.  Tell those sweet and fragile teenage girls they have a chance at something more than pregnancy at 15 years old and being kicked out of school.  That there's this Jesus who not only loves them, but created them and knit them together so beautifully.  What more could I want to do, you know?  I just want them to know there's something else out there for them.  That there is a place for them in this world.  And that God will hold them the whole way.   That God is rooting for them.  He's in their corner.  I just wanted them to know that.  And I guess I want you to know that too or I wouldn't be typing this right now.

There's a place for you.  There's a place for all of us.  God is in your corner.  Take a break from all of this theological "God is in God's corner" stuff.  God loves and embraces you just as you are right now, in this moment, as you read these words.  Do you know that?  Regardless of whether you're confused or torn doing what you thought you'd be doing three years after graduating college.  God can awaken new passions in you.  He blesses us with desires and talents beyond what we were capable of when we were eighteen years old.  And we should embrace those, you know?  Because our God is big, and He made this world awfully big, and He uses a lot of people to do a lot of different things.

If we went to a restaurant where there were no lights, it'd be incredibly difficult to see the menu and order or eat anything.  If it were dark in a store, you wouldn't be able to tell if the things you picked out were the things in your list.  I guess what I'm saying is as God's children, we don't want to leave any corner of this place unlit.  Whether it's retail stores or restaurants or golf courses or power plants.  Do you know how dangerous it is when places are left in pure darkness?    God is here, and He put you here to be a light.

A light unto the world.

dragons and gravel roads.

Resolutions are like promises you know you'll never keep.  I don't make resolutions.  I don't make promises much anymore either.

Instead, this is my prayer for this year.  Sanctification.  Roll that word around your tongue for a minute.

I feel like it always comes for me anyway.  This sanctification.  This tear off of who I think I should be and who I am in Him.  Constantly beckoning with the murmur similar to the kind the snow makes when it's falling.  One that sings of pummeling thousands of miles to the ground, but somehow finds it's place gently among the glittering unity.

This time, I'm boldly approaching His throne, asking Him to tell me what He thinks of me.  Asking for Him to define me.  To be what defines me.   Begging Him to violently tear away all the ugly of me that so fully reflects my love for this world.  To love me despite me.  He already does that.

I pray you will ask Him to do the same for you.  Maybe we'll meet up along this gravel road and share our scars.  Because we will certainly fall.  We will most certainly do more than scrape our knees.  Surely, we'll bloody our noses.  Maybe even the noses of our brothers.  But I hope to meet you along that beautiful gravel road where we will breathe in stories and breath out the hope that stems from the aroma of grace and mercy and justice that will surely surround us.

Happy New Year, friends.  His mercies are new each morning - not just tomorrow.

“The water was as clear as anything and I thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. but the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I don’t know if he said any words out loud or not.

I was just going to say that I couldn’t undress because I hadn’t any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that’s what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and , instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.

But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as they had been before. Oh, that’s all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I’ll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this underskin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe.

Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good.

Then the lion said – but I don’t know if it spoke – ‘You will have to let me undress you.’ I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know – if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.

Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt – and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I was smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on – and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again.”

-C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Those prophets may have been onto something.

I want to see redemption win.

Sometimes we catch tiny glimpses of it in this life.  But that's not enough.  I want to see redemption claim ownership over this place.  It's difficult to imagine this is even possible in the wake of such deep depravity surfacing and stealing innocent blood.

Amidst the mess that is yesterday, know this beyond a shadow of a doubt:

Jesus loves the little children.

Their treasures are in heaven.  Their parents' treasures are most certainly in heaven.  We need to bear this burden together in prayer.  I'm not even sure what you should pray for, but it's what the prophets did in the wake of mass murder and wiping out of entire nations.  Perhaps we should start there, too.

Somehow, we have to find confidence that God is still on His throne.  My sweet friend Ryne put it so well in saying, "I don't think we should try to make sense of this because there isn't any."  And he's right.  There is no way to rationalize or reconcile evil within God's holiness.  Things get confusing.  But God doesn't ask you to have blind faith.  You can ask Him about these things.  Remember the prophets.  Remember their doubt and questions and confidence and faithfulness.  Make a home there.  You'll be in good company.

Photo credit:  Rachel Vaudrieul

"I am still confident of this:  I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." Psalm 27:13

How did I lose a forest?

I hate graduate school for all that it's not and am trying to love it for what it barely is.

I want to rip a piece of academia off this program each day like a piece of pita bread with my teeth but I'm struggling to accept this will never happen.  My field liaison told me this week he thinks a really bright high school student could get through the program at this school.  I took a deep breath after he said that.  A really deep one.  The kind where you suck the air deep into your lungs and breathe it out through your teeth. 

I'm frustrated now.

"Like I said, I'm not getting anything out of this, Dr. Ferrante.  I don't know how half the students got into this program."

He told me if I want academic challenge I should have done something else.

Well, jeez.  That was honest.

"Like seminary?"

"You already argued with people for four years over God," he says to me.  "And what did you come up with Lindsay?  It took you four years to figure out that God is good?"

Touche, old man.

"If you're saying I'm never going to be academically challenged in this program, then what do you suggest?"

He smiled his crooked 70-something year old man smile.  I know he's been to seminary.  I know he's studied theology.  You can always tell by the way people talk about simple things.  Like they know some sort of secret.

"You have to decide whether or not this is going to do anything for you.  Once you make a decision, you're life will be easier.  This internship you don't like will get easier.  Going through classes will get easier.  It will all get easier for you."

He certainly didn't mean easier academically.  He already said a high school student could do this work, which is slightly embarrassing.  Is he suggesting there is more to a Masters degree than academic challenge?  Like this program be ultimately helpful in other ways?

Wait, are we even still talking about school?

Apparently there's some bigger picture I'm missing here.  There's always a bigger picture.  How did I lose the forest?  I was told this could happen.  I just see the trees all around me.  It seems so meaningless.  Somewhere along the way, I missed something.  I ended up in the midst of it all and it's just greenery.  Nothing makes sense.  I forgot something on my way.

Surely, but I'm not sure what.

I question a lot of things.  Most things, in fact. Am I doing what I should be?  Am I wasting time?  I wonder how much time I even have.  Am I making good use of it?  Am I doing anything redeeming? Are You still redeeming me?

Slow down, Quenton.

Shake the Dust

SHAKE THE DUST - Anis Mojgani

this is for the fat girls
this is for the little brothers
this is for the schoolyard wimps 
and for the childhood bullies that tormented them
for the former prom queen and for the milk crate ballplayers
for the nighttime cereal eaters
and for the retired elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters
shake the dust

this is for the benches and the people sitting upon them
for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns
for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children
for the night schoolers and for the midnight bike riders trying to fly
shake the dust

for the two year olds who cannot be understood
because they speak half English and half God
shake the dust
for the boys with the beautiful sisters
shake the dust
for the girls with the brothers who are going crazy
for those gym class wallflowers
for the 12 year olds afraid of taking public showers
for the kid who’s always late to class 
because he forgets the combination to his locker
for the girl who loves somebody else
shake the dust

this is for the hard men who want love but know that it won’t come

for the ones who are forgotten
the ones the amendments do not stand up for
for the ones who are told speak only when you are spoken to 
and then are never spoken to
speak every time you stand
so you do not forget yourself
do not let a moment go by that doesn’t remind you 
that your heart beats thousands of times a day
and that there are enough gallons of blood to make every one of us an ocean
do not settle for letting these waves settle and for the dust to collect in your veins

this is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling
for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone

for the sweat that drips off of Mick Jagger’s singing lips
for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner’s shaking hips
for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived

this is for the tired and for the dreamers
for the families that will never be like the Cleavers
with perfectly made dinners
and sons like Wally and the Beaver
this is for the bigots
for the sexists
for the killers
for the big house pen-sentenced cats becoming redeemers
and for the springtime
that always seems to show up right after the winters

this is for you

make sure that by the time the fisherman returns
you are gone again
because just like the days I burn at both ends
and every time I write every time I open my eyes
I am cutting out parts of myself just to give them to you
so shake the dust
and take me with you when you do
for none of this has ever been for me
all that pushes and pulls
it pushes for you
so grab this world by its clothespins
and shake it out again and again
and hop on top
and take it for a spin
and when you hop off
shake it again
for this is yours

make my words worth it

make this not just another poem that I write

not just another poem 
like just another night that sits heavy above us all
walk into it
breath it in
let it crawl though the halls of your arms
like the millions of years of millions of poets
coursing like blood
pumping and pushing
making you live
shaking the dust
so when the world knocks at your door
clutch the knob tightly
and open on up
running forward into its widespread greeting arms
with your hands before you
fingertips trembling 
though they may be

Our Savior has come.

Sometimes in church, the tears just well up out of nowhere.  I don't mean for it to happen.  They bubble like they've been waiting for the right opportunity to escape in a place where someone might understand.  They gain victory over my tired eyelids and then I can't sing anymore.  Today was one of those days.

The band was singing "Our Savior has come!  Hallelujah!  Our Savior has come!"  And I was overwhelmed.

Usually when I find myself choked up with the presence of the Lord, I feel like I need to say something.  It's like when you're around someone whose presence is so great and you just feel like before they run out the door, because you aren't sure when they'll be back, you should have something to say.  Something honorable to ask for or repentance to seek.  I surely have a lot of that.  I started blubbering questions and statements in my head.  Ones of peace and trust and forgiveness.  I meant all of them, but I would have preferred to just stand there and be in the moment, let His goodness and mercy wash over me and allow Him to take all the reasons why and just captivate me with Himself.

"Be still.  I see you."

And that was that.

I stopped the forced words I felt like I had to say and just stood there echoing in my heart what my tears wouldn't let me say with my mouth.

Our Savior has come.

I made a list. Two, actually.

I've just been thinking about how different my life if I didn't care what you thought of me.  Don't feel too special though, it's not just you.  But my church, my family, potential employers, future professionals and colleagues in my field.  Am I being who I really am?  Who I really want to be?  How much of what I portray is because I think that's what you expect?  Will you think I'm a total cheese ball for writing a blog about being who you are?

Like I've said before, I spend a lot of time in the car.  Far too much time to contemplate life.  You can only listen to Taylor Swift so many times before your mind drifts from whether this is another song about Joe Jonas or whether or not you'd really hate wearing long sleeves to work the rest of your life if you got a tattoo on your arm.

I made a list.  Two, actually.  Stop laughing.

I just wonder sometimes if I'm doing what I really want to do, you know?  I wonder if I'm living up to who you want me to be, or if I'm just being me?  Trying to live both places is impossible.  I keep trying, and I keep getting my anxiety medication switched.  So something in this relationship isn't working.

These are my lists.  Unedited.  I made them while sitting on the bathroom floor.  I had a playlist playing and Audrey Assad started singing, "Your God will not forsake you, oh my soul."  And I thought of you.

I hope you know that God will not forsake you either.  If you pursue what you feel so deeply in your insides you were created for.  Please.  Go.  GO.  Do that thing.  Forget whatever it is you feel so pressured to do or be.  Just be what you are.  Do what God gave you beautiful talents and desires for.  Pursue those things.  Pursue true joy.  It only comes from the Lord.  He created you for His glory and your joy.  Try and believe that for a second.  I know it's hard.  I struggle with it every single day.  You are not alone.

If it didn’t affect getting a job or the way people perceived me, I would….

Wear t-shirts every day

Get a tattoo on my arm

Dye my hair red and blonde

Wear glasses more often

Admit I like the snow

Talk about my passion and desire to see the world be a better place in my cover letter rather than previous internships or work experience

Spend more time feeding the hungry

Donate more clothes

Own less clothes

Sew more of my own clothes

Wear slippers all the time.  Like every day.

Teach Sunday school for kids with disabilities and try to integrate them into regular Sunday school classes

Push the envelope

Be myself more and stop feeling like every church I go to is a job interview

What do I really want to do with my time?  Not just spare time, but on the earth.  While I'm alive.  If anything were really possible, I would…

Feed hungry people.

Hang out with the homeless.  Hear their stories.

Legally advocate for the slave.

Love the victim.

Trust the victim.

Help the slave.

Be a voice for the trafficked.

Care about where my coffee comes from.

Spend my money like there are other people on the planet.

Fight for gay rights.

Kiss the forehead of the child with a disability, just because they are beautiful.

Push for better education in SC.

Stop checking out so quickly.

Believe I am capable.

Give it all away.

Believe god cares about my burdens.  Even my self-inflicted ones.

Ain't No Hollaback Girl

If it weren't for you, I'd get a tattoo on my arm.   And I wouldn't cover it up with sleeves or thick bracelets.  I'd let it's beauty cut through the air that divides us.

I'd probably dye my hair red again, too.

But I'm afraid you won't take me seriously.  Like you won't think I'm very professional.  My Masters degree will mean nothing.  Somehow, I'm scared I'll lose all my credibility if I conduct myself in a way that is perceived as less than my age.  Than my maturity level.  I'm too old for this.

You see, I want to live up to your expectations.  I bet you knew that already.  I like to live in a world where I disguise it well.  My affection for your approval.

But can I tell you something?  It's exhausting.

I never really know what you're thinking.  You keep me guessing, but not in the sexy way like my husband does.  It's awfully frustrating.  Living up to this standard you've set for me, but you'll never really tell me what it is.  Always beating around an ever-evolving bush.

Be true to yourself.  Exceed expectations.  Reach for the sky.  You control your own destiny.  You can be whatever you want to be.  Create your own opportunities.  Think outside the box.

But not too far of course.

You know something?  I'm thinking you should just leave me alone for a while.  Go on.  Leave me be.  I need to be on my own with my thoughts for a while.  Figure out what I really think of myself.  Ask God what He thinks of me.  I don't know if I've ever asked Him before.  I was too concerned with you.

I would say it's not you, but lets be real.  It is you.  And it's me, too.  We'll take mutual responsibility for this one.

We can talk again when I can finally say out loud with my life,

You're not the boss of me.

Motivation Monday

The response last Monday from a little musical encouragement was overwhelming.  Not necessarily  in numbers, but in the Spirit moving and reminding me I'm not the only person who needs to be gently reminded of His goodness.

I get so used to His goodness sometimes, it's almost an expectation.  Like it's His job to love me.  But that is not the case.  God is saving a people.  He could have left us on our own, but didn't.  He chose to walk with us.  

For your soul today, sweet friends.

'Tis so Sweet to Trust in Jesus

I got really upset in church today.

We were late, and it was my fault.  The DVR demanded my attention this morning as Caleb and I caught up on Tosh.O and reruns of Project Runway I had recorded.  I leisurely ate my Lucky Charms and glanced back and forth between the brand new, unopened sewing machine in my closet and the incredible designs prancing down the runway.

I've got to set that thing up.  Someday.

Needless to say, I got in the shower late, and we barely made it in time to catch the last few verses of one of Caleb's favorite worship songs - "10,000 reasons" by Matt Redman.

I hate missing the worship songs, I whispered.  We were so late we didn't even make coffee before we left.

Tragic.

I got even more upset when I opened the program and saw that not only had we missed the music, but we missed really good music.  "'Tis So Sweet" and "Blessed Assurance" were on the set-list.  I so love hymns.  They are true, naked melodies holding hands with vintage lyrics.  Stirs my soul.

I soon fell into the words God was speaking through the pastor.  The church is doing a series called, "Whispers From God" on listening and discerning the Lord's voice.  On the surface, the sermon may have seemed elementary.

But when hearing and discerning the Voice that speaks stars into being becomes no big deal for you, you let me know.

As the pastor spoke and the Spirit gently pressed against my constantly criticizing heart (I have one of those, you know.), I realized this was the first time I had been disappointed that I was late for church.  Usually, I'd be completely okay with it.  You see, I really don't care for going to church.

Shocker.  Not really.

For the past 5 years, going to church for me was part of going to work.  I never could worship fully, bare my sin openly, and live in the tension I constantly felt between the Word and world.  You can blame that on me.  I'm okay with that.  It's just how it was.

But working in a church and being the church simultaneously is really hard sometimes.  You have to be an example and "live above reproach" (whatever that means), but at the same time, you know you're a broken vessel.  Maybe I simply wasn't mature enough for it.

But today, I sat in church and the Scripture saturated me.  This wasn't all to my credit of course.  The Spirit moves when the Spirit moves.  But I think part of you, and I don't know what part, has to be open to hearing the Lord speak.

You won't recognize Truth if you have no idea what it sounds like.  What He sounds like.

I could choose be incredibly critical of the church I'm going to.  It appears as a big production.  Big stage.  Couple thousand attendees at a given service on Sundays.  I've been going there a few months and have never met the pastor.  And the kicker?  They hold youth group during the church services, which drives me to the ends of the earth.

I've quit jobs over that mess.

But you know what?  I don't want to be.  I'm choosing not to be.  And God doesn't want me to be.

God is moving in that place.  The pastor preaches Truth.  I've watched people get out of their chairs and proclaim to believe in and accept Jesus for the first time.  It's beautiful.  They increased their budget for next year by a MILLION dollars for the sole purpose of building an orphanage for child slaves rescued from rock quarries in India.  They are working with a network of Indian pastors who will take the reigns of everything.  They're doing it "right".

I believe God is healing my overly critical heart.  I was mad because I was late for church.  Are you hearing me?  That's just wild.  When church ends, I don't want to get up.  And it's not because the pastor is some fancy speaker or because the band is flashy.  It's because God is pressing into me, and I don't want to leave the place where I know He may be hanging out.

Maybe He'd press into you too if you asked.  I'd put my money on Him.

Your Love is Strong

This weekend was a beautiful escape from the world with my sweet Mother in town from above the Dixie Line.  Tonight in the parking lot of her hotel, Monday's foreshadow reminded me reality was always just a few days away.  Tomorrow, I'll commute two hours to school and two hours back. Driving at 6:30am always comes too soon.  Hot coffee can only woo a girl out of her slumber so many times before she need to be reminded what the point of all this is.

If you are weary and need a reminder that you are loved with a love that will not let you go,

This one is for you.

Sparrow.

It's only two months into graduate school, and I'm already asking why I voluntarily did this to myself.

Getting back into school is hard after you've been out for a few years.  It's even harder when you're commuting 2 hours to class and back and an hour to your internship and back.  Thankfully I like to drive.  I turn on 93.7 and spend my mornings listening to the Hawk and Tom show.  I'm starting to feel like we're old friends who catch up in the mornings over coffee.  Torture Tuesday is my favorite - this week they put 6 bags of popcorn in a microwave for 30 minutes.  Then something happens on the show like the microwave door exploding off and I snap out of it and realize I'm my coffee is in a white travel mug and I'm on the highway with only my oversized school bag to accompany me in the passenger seat.

As you can imagine, I have a lot of time to think while I'm in the car.  Sometimes this is refreshing.  I crack the window and breathe the cool morning air into my throat.  Sometimes, it's torture.  Imagine being left with your own thoughts in a car for four hours a day.  That's why you're always on Facebook, or Pinterest, or reading this blog.  You don't want to have to sit with your thoughts.  It's okay though.  We're all like that.

I spend a lot of time wondering what I'll do when I'm out of school.  I know - I always tell people to be where their feet are.  But I can't help but wonder what path I'll pursue.  The beautiful thing about getting a Masters in Social Work is the incredibly vast career options.  Want to work with kids?  You can.  Never want to see a kid?  You don't have to.  You can work at a desk or in a circle doing group therapy.  You can write new policies or improve old ones.  Military, homeless, disabled, children, elderly, hungry, rich, poor, families, orphans.  There are so many different choices.  It's slightly intimidating.

But when I think about all the opportunities this experience will present to advance His Kingdom further, I start to think two years isn't so bad.  Research papers aren't so bad.  Maybe I even like some of this stuff.  I start to think what I do is not as important as why I started in the first place.

I start to think, and then I start to remember.

You know that feeling you got deep in your insides when you just knew that you knew without question you had to do something?  Whatever it is that you do.  That you've claimed as the thing you will be responsible for.

I will account for this.  For them.  I have seen this and I can never not see it again.  Something has to be done.  Said.  I have to.  There's just no other way.  I wouldn't be who I was made to be if I don't chase after this.

Remember that feeling for a second.

If I were sitting next to you right now, I'd whisper, "You were created for this."

Collateral Damage

I'm just going to lay my cards on the table.

I'm beginning to wonder if short-term mission work is any more effective than if you put a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

Think about how we go about doing mission work in third world countries - or anywhere really.  We are trying to bridge a gap between what is and what should be, and I think those intentions can be good.  On paper, everything seems like a good idea.  This one could even be philanthropic.  But I think when we break it down, we see the logic is pretty lacking.  Let me show you the steps I believe we take when doing "mission work".

1.  We go to a place we decide is in need.

2.  We figure out what their deficits are.

3.  We rank their deficits by what's most important to address.

4.  We raise money to fund initiatives to fix their problems.

Read those steps again.  See how this is a little ridiculous?

At first glance, I think #3 seems the most outrageous, but the more I think about it, I think #2 is pretty awful.  Who am I to tell you what your deficits are?  Especially in a culture that is completely different from mine, and when I have no vested interest in your community.  Why does my culture's priorities trump what yours may be?

Even worse, did anyone even ask you if you wanted help?  And if so, did we ask what you thought the vital issues were?  Did we engage your community in helping to work towards sustainable change?  Or did we just fix your gutters and paint your house?

When I was in Belize, I met a little boy named Iverson.  I was smitten.  His ivory smile contrasted with his ebony skin in the most beautiful way.  He wore the same striped polo shirt with holes in it the whole week.  Each time I saw him, his shirt was adorned with a new layer of dirt from playing soccer with garbage in the road.  I was willing to do whatever it took to get him out of this situation.  Seriously.  I wanted so badly for him to get out of there and come home with me.  I would buy him a race car bed and make him hot pancakes for breakfast each morning. 

On my last day in the country, I asked Iverson about his family and where he lived.  He told me he lived in one big room with his grandmother and 5 siblings and some other family members.  He told me he had a hot dog for lunch. I cried and kissed his head.  I told him Jesus loved him and would take care of him.  He hugged me and snuggled his sweet 5-year-old head under my chin.

I knew he was exactly where he should be.

I don't know how much good it necessarily would have done to take this sweet boy back home with me.  Iverson has a family.  He is fed.  Not like I'd like to see him fed, but he has more than many children in his country.  Would bringing him home have made his life better, or just more American?  Why is my way what is acceptable?  Why do I measure progress by the way our culture does things?

Like I said, I'm beginning to wonder if we haven't been going about this all wrong.  Before you start throwing stones and casting lots for my things, take a second to seriously think about it.  How many people that go on trips are invested in the community they're working in?  How many mission trips have you youth pastors taken your students on where the agency you worked with has planted any roots with the community it's serving?  Have you involved them in anything?  Have we focused only on their deficits, rather than drawing off of what the community has to offer?  

You know everyone has something to offer, don't you?

Change is incremental.  Small.  Gradual.  Grueling.  It takes commitment.  Not for a year or two.  It takes more than the junk drawer language of just “loving on people”.  Hitting the denominator takes investment.  

And if we aren't willing to commit to the duration, maybe it's better if we just stay out of the way.