Twenty: You Can't Cure a Disease by Treating Symptoms

I feel like I need to explain my statement in a previous post that God did not use me in Myanmar.  It doesn't mean that God had no purpose for sending me.  It's just that I suspect that the primary purpose for this trip was not so much for me to be used by God to save others, but rather for God to teach me.   I hope that in sharing what I've learned, however, the trip will have value beyond just my personal enrichment.

This trip felt like a bringing together of several strands of knowledge that I've been learning since a trip to Haiti in 2010, but the short version is this:  There is a right and a wrong way to engage internationally to foster justice and fight oppression, and She is Safe does it right.

I saw the results of "aid gone wrong" on a post-earthquake trip to Haiti.  Although I couldn't have put my finger on it at the time, I was troubled by a rather dependent mind-set on the part of many (but by no means all) Haitians whose answer to difficult times was to request money or rescue from their wealthier non-Haitian contacts.  In hindsight, I believe the attitude is one WE created over decades of well-intentioned but poorly designed efforts to help the struggling nation.

In their book Helping Without Hurting, Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert suggest that "helping" can actually hurt the recipient because it too often fails to address the roots of the problem.  For example, many programs by churches and humanitarian organizations have the goal of poverty alleviation.  However, the programs have an incomplete and unbiblical view of poverty as a lack of material goods or financial opportunity.  In this view, the "solution" is too often simply to give the needy the material goods that are lacking.

In reality, this approach is merely treating a symptom of the much deeper and more complex psychological and social roots that lead to poverty.  As a result, our well-intentioned handouts have the unintended side effects of creating dependency, undermining the dignity of the materially poor, and perpetuating the underlying causes of poverty.

Corbett and Fikkert prescribe a more biblical and holistic view of poverty as "rooted in broken relationships with God, self, others, and the rest of creation."  Using the Bible as their guide, the authors propose modeling development efforts after God's mission of what they call "comprehensive reconciliation" in ways that restore not just material possessions, but opportunity, dignity, and an appreciation of one's identity as a divine image-bearer.

Applying the perspectives offered by Corbett and Fikkert to the important anti-trafficking work that is much more in the spotlight these days, I can see how I have made similar errors in thinking.  When I first learned of the extent of human-trafficking in the world--and particularly sex-trafficking--my response was what I hope most people's would be: "We have got to stop this!  We have to rescue the women and children enduring such horrors!"

It's not wrong thinking, but it is incomplete.  Yes, we must have programs that work directly to rescue people from slavery and exploitation.  However, until we address the underlying systems of thought and culture that foster the treatment of humans as property, until we attack thinking that elevates personal gratification over all else, trafficking will continue to flourish.

Such an approach is a daunting undertaking:  It is slow, complicated, messy, and definitely not for the faint of heart.   On my trip to Myanmar, I had the privilege of seeing such efforts walked out by She is Safe staff members and their partners in Myanmar.  Seeing all of my book-learning walked out in practice in a context that is so ripe with opportunity is why I can say with confidence that my trip was a success despite the fact that I rescued no one.

Seventeen: Setting Things Straight About Sex

"Your naked body deserves the honor of being shared only with someone who is covenanted to never stop loving your naked soul."—Ann Voskamp

I read these words, which ring so beautiful and true, and for some reason I was reminded of a conversation I had with a young woman this summer.  She told me, "the problem with all of the purity events I went to is they push the message on us that the most important thing about a girl is her virginity."  There was a twinge of anger in her tone that broke my heart.

I was at some of those events, and I know that was not the intended message.   Still, the fact that even one girl came away feeling like that is jarring to me.  Regardless of intent, if that message is the one a young woman internalized, we failed her.  Even worse, we failed the gospel and the message of grace.

So, for every young person who has felt like that, let me set the record straight.

You are so much more than the status of your virginity.  In fact, the whole idea of "purity" is misleading.  Apart from Jesus, none of us is pure--not even the most virginal--but in Him anyone can be--even the most promiscuous.  Your value has absolutely nothing to do with your sexual status, but rather your status as the creation of a loving God who thought you were worth dying for.   One of the things that always tore me apart when this discussion came up in Sunday School or at youth events was the way issue of virginity was used as a measuring stick in hurtful, competitive ways--at least among the girls.  Those who were still waiting felt proud, and those who hadn't waited assumed the others were virgins only because they were undesirable.  

Hear this: no matter whether you have never looked at the opposite sex or have been around the block and back, you are precious and worth fighting for. You were created for a big, powerful, sacrificial love and you. are. worth. it.  

The only reason your virginity matters to God is that He wants the best for you.

I'll be honest. I hope my kids marry virgins (and marry AS virgins), but not because that would make them better people or more deserving of love.  I want it because I think it is the safest, easiest way to enjoy the gift of sex--as designed and free of baggage. However, do you know what I want more?  I want them to marry someone who treasures them the way Jesus does, because he or she understands His love.  I want them to marry someone who loves their soul and not just their shell.  

Also, I hope you get that sex isn't dirty, and it's not shameful.  God actually created sex, and He wants you to enjoy it.  The reason we old folks want you to wait is that we've learned--some of us the hard way--that when you try to enjoy God's gifts outside of the context for which He created them, you lose out on the full joy He wanted you to have.  That's why I love the quote above--it's such a great picture of what He intended and why it's so wonderful HIS way.  The human body is so much more complex than just hormones, urges and interlocking parts.  

Even secular science is finding that the best scenario for physical intimacy is within the context of a committed, monogamous relationship. Good sex releases chemicals that bond you emotionally to another person.  The only way to have sex without creating that bond is to have bad sex, and who wants that?   It's also no surprise to find out  that psychological research is finding that those who follow the hook-up culture's message of sex without relationship or commitment often suffer psychologically.  Whether your mind accepts it or not, your body and your subconscious know that sex is more than just physical.  

I guess that's the message I hope you get. You are loved whether you wait or not.  You are valuable whether you wait or not.  But when I urge you to wait, it's because I know something.  Someone needs to counter the message that the culture is sending.  

We were made for something different and so much better.

Sixteen: For My Girls

The other day as she was making a rare appearance at home, my almost 20-year-old was cleaning her room and chatting about her friends.  (THANK YOU, Jesus, for these friends!)  Being college-age, they are beginning to pair up, and my girl finds the whole process fascinating.  I think I've got a Dolly Levi in the making here.  She loves to mentally put people together into well-matched couples.

When she paused, I asked, "Do you know anyone musical?  I've always pictured you with someone musical, I'm not sure why."  She agreed that she saw her self with a musical man, too, but that more important than musicality was a love of Jesus and the outdoors--and a sense of humor.

As she elaborated, I realized that she was very accurately describing a young man I've had picked out for her since she was twelve.  I had the pleasure of teaching him for a few years, and temperament-wise he just struck me as a perfect fit for my super-smart, somewhat scattered, very artsy middle child.  I have sung his praises for years now and she always rolls her eyes. 

Naturally,  when she described her ideal man, I couldn't resist pointing out that she had just given me an exact description of young Mr. Right.  

She's not there yet--she's got this ridiculous notion that she wants someone she's actually had a conversation with in the past two years.  (Can we please bring back arranged marriages?)

Today I was messaging with Katie and our Grace and told them about our exchange regarding Mr. Right.  He is at the same university they're at, and apparently I'm not the only one who thinks he's a catch.  Grace said, "Well, she'd better move fast..."

I'm guessing he's quite the hot commodity up at UF.  Smart girls.

As great as this kid is, I have to say, no, she doesn't need to move fast.  

I do want my kids to have an idea about the deep qualities that they think are critical in a mate, because cute only lasts so long.

However, even more importantly I want them to realize that THEY are the catch, and they don't need to compete for love.

The REAL Mr. Right for each of my girls, will see the treasure that is uniquely her, and he will want to move fast to win her.  

The whole exchange has left me feeling grateful for the gift I have in my husband. I never felt like I had to win him, had to compete with anyone else.  And it's not because others weren't trying.  He's quite a looker.  At the time we started dating there were several ladies who were not happy with me for taking him off the market. (They'd obviously never seen the dog hat.)  They were trying to compete, but I never felt like I had to.  I never felt threatened--not because I was so confident in myself, but because he was so happy with just me. He certainly had plenty of options...many who were more beautiful, talented, and successful than me. But for whatever reason, in me he saw his match and he quit looking.  I may not be the perfect female, but I was perfect for him, and he let me know it.   I remember when my mom asked me what was so special about this guy and I answered, "He's the first person I've dated who likes me for the same reasons I like myself."

So, my girls, all of my girls--whether you are in your twenties or in your fifties--I wish for you this kind of love.  Wait for it.  You don't have to be the perfect woman, you just have to wait for the gem of a man who thinks you are perfect for him.  I pray that you can feel the safety and rest that comes from the trustworthy, unconditional acceptance of a man who is smart enough to see the treasure that is you.  

In the meantime, I know Someone who thinks you to die for, and if you don't know Him, I'd love to introduce you.

Day Eight: Better Words than Mine

Today instead of offering my own words, I want to make the gift of these words that touched me this morning.  They are the words of the Apostle Paul, written to believers in Colossus.  Think how beautiful our world would be if we all just lived this advice:

"Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful."

Shall we take this challenge, my friends?  I'm in.

Day Seven:Do-Over Lessons

Since I was a "late bloomer," getting married at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, and since there was some concern that I might have a difficult time becoming pregnant, our idea of family planning was "we'll take what we can get when we can get it."  Okay, that was Mike's policy.  Since said babies would be issuing forth out of my body, I added a little fine print to the policy: "until I am 35." 

Turns out, I didn't have a difficult time--as in three babies in four years--which was good, given our late start and all.  Still, by my calculations, I changed diapers for seven consecutive years.   In fact, because of their spacing, every phase happened all in one long stretch.  The toddler years,  preschool years, peewee soccer and basketball years, elementary years, middle school years...high school years....ulp.   With two in college already, I am now in my final year of the high school years.

Well, THAT went fast.

I joke often nowadays that once the baby (the six-foot something baby) graduates, we should get a set of "do-over" kids now that we know what we're doing.  (As if we do...)  Actually, unless the "do-over" kids come with a "do-over" energetic body, I think I'll let that dream go.

Still, I'll pass along some of the things I've learned through the phases.  (NOTE: I'm not claiming to be a perfect parent--so not.  Remember, some wisdom comes from failure.)

1. Let them eat dirt.  I know there are awful stories of kids getting sick from eating raw cookie dough, improper hand washing and what not, but generally speaking, they have a tendency to live. I am convinced that my kids are so healthy now because when they were young they ate dirt (or worse, in the case of my taste-testing last born), chewed on the occasional bug, walked around barefoot, and entertained themselves swimming in ponds, digging craters in the back yard, and making potions out of mud. Most of this was without my permission, mind you, but they are living proof that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

2. Consistency in discipline is far more important than what method you choose.  Naturally I am talking about appropriate and loving discipline.  This tip I learned from a wonderful pediatrician in Bellingham, Washington who had a rather large brood of kids with a wide range of personalities.  He told me that more important than whether I opted for time-outs or spankings, what my kids needed most were clear expectations for behavior and consistently applied consequences for misbehavior.  Children need to know the deal and know that you can be trusted to keep your end of the deal--even when it's unpleasant.

3. The goal of child-rearing is not to control their behavior, but to help them develop self-control.  Perfect behavior may feel more peaceful in the short-term, but if their behavior can only be regulated by external forces, we're not really raising adults.  Every human being has free will. Our job is to teach our children that choices have consequences, but the choices are theirs to make.  Help them own their choices by letting them make choices--even the wrong ones.

4.  Child labor is good for the child.  Give them chores.  Age-appropriate chores build self-confidence and autonomy.  At the same time, taking part in the chores of the home gives kids a chance to be part of a bigger team.  Along the same lines, (and this one was a tough one for me) don't do for a child (or teenager) what he can do for himself--even if you can do it better and faster.

5. Let them get bored!  Do I really need to explain this?  My sweet momma actually strategically applied #4 and #5 together: If we told her we were bored, she had a long list of chores for us to relieve our boredom!  Some of my kids' sweetest memories and most creative moments came from the need to find a way to cure boredom. (So did some of our biggest messes, so be warned...)

6. Praise character over performance, or intelligence, or beauty.  Hard work and perseverance are praiseworthy, regardless of results.  Kind actions are praise worthy.  Honesty is praiseworthy.  In contrast, intelligence and beauty are simply a matter of genetics and God's design--they are no more praiseworthy than freckles, height or hair color.   Although this applies to both genders it is CRITICAL for girls.  They need to internalize at a young age that their value lies much deeper than the outer shell.

7. Let them take risks and give them permission to fail.  You can't have great success without risk, and risk brings with it the possibility of failure.  Encourage them to count the cost, take risks, and recover from failure.  Share stories of your own failures and what they taught you.

8.  Model humility by admitting when you are wrong.  Ask for forgiveness. Kids don't need perfect parents (which is good, because there aren't any); they need authentic and humble parents.

9. Let them see you and HELP you serve others.  It's great for kids to experience their parents serving them, but they also need to see their parents serve someone besides them.  The most unhappy people I've met in my life are people who live only for their own happiness.  Help your kids experience the satisfaction of looking beyond themselves and working for the happiness of another.

10.  Always remember that your life speaks much more loudly than your words.  Live the truth you want them to understand.  If you want them to value honesty, be honest. If you want them to be kind, be kind yourself. If you want them to love Jesus, delight in Him. 

Anything?

I think God might be messing with me.  Two days after writing in tears about my gradually emptying nest, I got a request from a friend to take a trip with her.  To Southeast Asia.

This summer a group of my friends, some just starting out and others, like me, with a bit more "experience," read a book together by Jennie Allen called Anything.  The book is an accounting of what led her and her husband to pray the prayer that she says unlocked her God and her soul.  The prayer was simply, "Anything, Lord.  I'm in."

It was interesting for our group to discuss, because the group was composed half of young women preparing to leave the nest, and half of women whose nests were emptying.  To a woman, we were all on the cusp of a monumental life transition.   All of us were asking, "what am I supposed to do with my life?"

"Anything" is a prayer we all would benefit from praying, but most fear, because telling God "anything" means He could ask....well, ANYTHING, and most of us are pretty comfortable.  As comfy North Americans we tend to think in self-preserving terms, fearing that if we surrender and say, "anything," God will ask us to give things up or do something really big.  Big as in sell-your-home-and-move-to-Africa big.

I honestly thought I was pretty down with the whole "Anything" concept.  I had just the year before gathered some activist runners and put on a virtual 5k to raise money for an organization I love called She is Safe, and was ramping up for the second annual.  Not huge, but out of my comfort zone.

It's a funny thing about stepping out of your comfort zone.  It often takes you even further out.

Like to Southeast Asia.

I have to confess, my first response was not, "ANYTHING, Lord!"

More like, "ARE YOU EVEN KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!"

You have to understand.  When I think of adventurous travel, I think Europe, or at least a country where I have an inkling of a chance at communicating--at least the same ALPHABET for heaven's sake. I mean, I went to Haiti during a cholera outbreak and political rioting, but at least they speak some French there.  And it's in the same general hemisphere.  My mental awareness of the globe sort of stops at France.

Also, this would involve flying over LOTS of open water--and I get panic attacks on a paddle board.

Truthfully, I have a plethora of really good reasons to say, "Not this trip."

Like justifying spending $2500 on myself--right before Christmas--when I've got two kids in college, every vehicle has 200,000 miles on it (and we don't do car payments), my students are sliding together down to the ends of our lopsided couches, and my sweet husband is working is tail off trying to make it all happen.

And speaking of my husband: His job takes him out of town half of every month.  We live on a farm, so going while he's gone means leaving the farm without a farmer, but going while he's home means giving up the precious little time I have with him.

Oh, and then there's that little section of the travel planning pamphlet that addresses their policy for hostage situations.  I'm reading about how they'll handle the unlikely event that I get taken hostage--and just the other day I was telling my daughter's friend about how I AVOID LEFT-HAND TURNS if possible because they are more dangerous.  What's wrong with this picture?

Still...every single objection I have can be summed up in this equation: Guilt + Fear = NO

But I have been pleading for over a year with people to please give a darn about the plight of women and girls in parts of the world where they are treated as commodities or burdens. This is a chance to go and see the beginning stages of the creation of a Transformation Group that could impact generations of communities in the areas we'll visit.

I'll have an opportunity in a tiny way to enter into the lives of women and children living in extreme poverty who earn money by separating out recyclables, and maybe, just maybe be able to communicate to them that in them I see dignity, value and the fingerprints of God.  It's a chance to see with my eyes, feel with my heart, touch with my hands, and then share with my words.

Plus, the fact that it seems so impossible makes it a just little irresistible.  What kind of God story might this be if God makes the impossible possible?

Here's the great thing about "Anything:" I am realizing (at least at this stage in the game), I don't have to say, "Absolutely" to this one thing just yet...I simply have to say, "As You wish," and surrender it to Him--come what may.

Will you pray for me?  I'll keep you posted.

Day Two: A Prayer for My Church

"If we allow people to be human and God to be God, the church has a fighting chance.  If you show up brave and true, and leaders show up brave and true, if you own your place and I own  mine, the kingdom will break through in every possible way. God is big and good enough to lead us all, and together we just might see the kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven."  -- Jen Hatmaker, in For the Love

This Sunday marks a change in the life of my church. We're changing our name.  It's a big deal for some-- and not such a big deal for others (me).  A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, after all.  This has been my church family since moving to Florida in 1998, so I know it intimately.  It's a biggish church, Southern Baptist in denomination, and, like any other church of any size or denomination, we're often times a hot mess.  But this hot mess is my family, and even if I sometimes feel aggravated to the point of distraction, I love them.

For me, there is much fuel for aggravation, but I think the irritation has a fair amount to do with the fact that I'm a Montana girl, and this is the South.  Being so close to Miami, this band of believers is an eclectic blend of Deep Dixie South mixed with a fiery dose of Spicy Latin Zing    Both come with their fair share of attitude and issues, bless them.  (We from the Northwest, of course, we have zero issues or attitudes.  Not.)  Suffice it to say that I am jeans and T-shirt in a land where the choices are panty-hose and sensible dresses or flamboyant frills and spike heels. I'm the proverbial square peg, and the holes in Florida are either round or triangular.  Consequently, it's not always what you would call comfortable for me here.  As you can see, these are not really doctrinal aggravations. Just personal challenges.

My church is also proudly a Southern Baptist church, and I am a product of a "non-denominational" faith influence, so I don't necessarily find the term Baptist something to be proud of (or ashamed of, for that matter).  We're all Christians, so Jesus should be the only thing we're proud of.  Anyhow, because of the difference in my background, my church has dearly held traditions and practices that I have to confess drive me just the teeniest bit nuts.  In these seventeen years, there have been many times when I have disagreed deeply with the way things were run or attitudes that were held. (In fairness, when we first joined the church, we knew exactly what we were getting.  Not to mention the fact that I joined them; they didn't join me.)  Still, there have been several occasions when the differences led me to consider finding another church family...one where I fit better.

Except, here's the thing:

As itchy as it can sometimes feel to be a black sheep, this is my family, and you don't just quit your family because they occasionally make you crazy.  Ultimately, it's not about my preferences or my opinions.  Nearly every thing that makes me nuts is a non-essential in terms of eternity.  Even though I might do things differently if I ran the church (which is NEVER gonna happen, by the way, so you can breathe easy as far as that goes), there has never been a doubt in my mind that our leaders love Jesus and love people.  I may have disagreed with some actions or decisions, but any time that I have looked beyond the action to the heart of the person, what I see there is love.

Sure, we have a tendency to bicker and wound and judge and sometimes behave selfishly, but this family also loves big and cares for the hurting and offers grace in abundance.  And here's a newsflash:  EVERY closely knit gathering of flawed humans--religious or otherwise--is going inflict some wounds.

That's why community is risky.  People are just messy.

While the official church priorities may not always be the same ones I have, this church body--through the lives of individual members--is reaching into the world and our neighborhoods without fanfare or grand production.  As individual members of a bigger body, we are making a difference in many ways, some that I am aware of (foster care, community service camps, pregnancy centers, teaching ESL, restoration homes for victims of trafficking, care and service for sick or invalid friends) as well as  others I probably can't even begin to imagine. Knowing that, it's really not necessary for the church policy to cover every type of ministry I find vital--because the people of the church are living their lives in such a way that loving the world doesn't require church staff or an official program.  I kind of appreciate that the church leadership doesn't have to be in charge of every single act of ministry.  I like the fact that as a church community we can come to church to increase our learning, worship together, share our passions and ideas, support one another and then GO OUT and love the world.

So here's my cry: They are not perfect, but this is my family.

May we grow in humility, wisdom, transparency, intimacy and courage because we strive to love like Jesus.

Jesus, give us humble hearts to hear and respond to truth.  May each person engage in a way that is brave and true, and may each leader humbly show up and lead in a way that is brave and true.  Let us each own our place and give others the freedom and grace to own theirs.  May we as a body be intricately and openly part of Your Church in the world and not a separate entity with our own agenda.  May we allow one another to be flawed and may our love for one another come from Your Spirit in such a way that we can see the kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

Happy Launch Day, Crosslife Church.  I really do love you.

The Reason Why

Nearly every week I ask the girls in my Sunday School class: "What is the worst thing that could happen to you?"

The first time I asked it, I got a huge range of answers:

"I could get my phone taken away"
"not getting into college"
 "my dad could lose his job"
 "a parent could die."

All devastating things, to be sure (except maybe the phone), but not what I was hoping for.

So, I re-phrased the question: "As a believer, what is the worst thing that could happen to you?"

They had to think a little harder that time.

"Sinning"
"Persecution"
"Dying for my faith"
"Displeasing God"

Again, all bad things, but still, I have come to believe, not the worst thing.

As a follower of Christ, the worst thing that could happen to me is to lose my love for Jesus.

I've told my girls this almost every week and I am just praying they are starting to believe it.  I hammer this truth so hard because in ten years of working with youth my heart has been broken by how often they sincerely strive to avoid the wrong "worst thing" and don't even notice that the REAL worst thing is happening to them.  Eventually many of them move from being a leader in the youth group and Sunday Regular to being apathetic at best and more often drifting completely away from their relationship with Christ--

because, frankly,  they don't really love Him that much.

I desperately want them to GET the fact that not loving Him is the worst thing ever.

How does this happen?

Last week I think we stumbled upon something.  One girl mentioned that her friends at school find her lifestyle odd.  I pressed for examples and she said, "Well, for example they ask me why I want to be a virgin."

"And what do you tell them?" I asked, curious.

She was hesitant, as if she wasn't really confident about her answer.  "I told them I want to be a virgin because the Bible says that sex before marriage is a sin and I don't want to sin."

Well, now, that is true.  And a good reason for abstinence.

But the uncertain look on this sweet girl's face revealed something to me.  It was as if she knew her answer was a fact, and she believed it, but something inside her was questioning:  Is this all there is to my faith?  Not doing things because they are sinful?

I thought of her curious friends and remembered what it was like to be the one wondering about Christians--and how NOT compelling "it's a sin" was for a response.  (From what I have witnessed over the past several years, it's not even compelling to the kids who believe it.) Watching the more vocal Christians at my school work so hard to avoid sin because, well, it's SIN, did absolutely NOTHING to draw me to Christ.

Who wants that--living life in constant fear of disappointing the Rule Maker?  Thanks, but no thanks.

As I looked at the faces of my Sunday girls that morning, I realized: We're missing it.

We're teaching them right from wrong.  We're teaching them that sin is bad and should be avoided, but we're missing the point of WHY.

What if, instead of focusing so much on what the rules are, we revealed to them the heart of the God behind the rules?  Because, as I mistakenly assumed as a Junior High agnostic, God didn't make rules so that no one had fun on earth.

Nor, as I mistakenly believed as a young Christian, did He make rules so that we could work really hard to prove our commitment to Him.   (See how good I am, God?  I'm a virgin!  I don't smoke!  I don't drink! APPROVE. OF. ME!)

Ugh.

What if we could show our children and the young people we mentor--through Scripture and our lives--that God is loving and good and can be trusted?  That the "rules" are not for Him (as if GOD  needs to prove anything), but rather for us--to protect us and preserve us for His BEST? What if we took the time to show them that every single rule in the Bible is motivated by God's absurd, unreasonable, gracious love for them?

What if they really understood the concept of UNMERITED favor--that God's love cannot be earned through performance or obedience, but rather is freely given to us IN SPITE of our sinful bent?  What if they would obey Him because they trust Him, not to win His approval (which they already have in Christ)?

What if our young people, when questioned about their choices, could answer with confidence, "Because I know God loves me and wants what is best for me.  He says that's not best, and I trust Him because I know He's good."

It's a simple idea, but revolutionary.

God's reason for creating me (and you and everyone) was so we could enjoy a relationship with Him, and bring Him glory and draw people to Him through our delight in Him.  He demands to be first in our hearts, not because He's selfish, but because giving Him first place is BEST for us.

His love is the reason for the hope that I have.  His love is what I want my kids to know before anything else.

His love is the best thing that could ever happen to me.

Just imagine how compelling a church full of imperfect people living loved would be to a hurting world.

The Sum of my Wisdom

This year I turned 50, a milestone that ideally comes with some hard-earned wisdom to share.  

Instead, I've spent the past six months wondering how this could have happened to someone as young as I am. I swear, I JUST turned 40 a week ago!  

It's been six months since my birthday, and I never did formulate any summary of the lessons I've learned over half a century.  Perhaps time got away from me because I now spend an alarming part of my day running to keep my arteries supple and then doing yoga to stretch and strengthen so that my joints won't seize up.  

And napping--because, what with all that running and yoga, you know....

...what was I talking about?  Oh, wisdom.  

Celebrating the big 5-0

This past week, I moved my oldest child to her new apartment (TWO HOURS AWAY).  Let me tell you, launching your young will motivate you to come up with some wise words like 50 never could.  The weeks prior to her move, I was overwhelmed with the sense that time was running out...

It didn't help that every blog post that crossed my path contained something in the title having to do with "what kids need to know BEFORE they leave home."  (Ulp.)

Did she learn everything I wanted her to learn?  In the short time remaining, I struggled with coming up with a "Top 10" list of truths I wanted to be SURE she knew before she left my home. 

(Struggled is a bit of an understatement.)  

In the end, I cranked out a last-minute compilation resulting from my scattered pondering over the preceding weeks--just before we headed out the door.  It would have to do, because time was officially UP.  The following list was written specifically to MY girl, but I'm thinking it pretty much hits the highlights of my wisdom from 50 years of living.  (It's a good start anyway!)

Celebrating (...well, mostly) my first to leave the nest.

1. Jesus first—even when you are not feeling it. Home is where He is.
2. You are a work in progress; you are enough, and you are worth fighting for.  So is everyone else.  Don't settle for less, and don't give less.
3. You are loved—even when you are not feeling it. LIVE LOVED.
4. The worst person you can lie to is yourself.  
5. Failure is nearly always part of the road to success. Give yourself permission to fail.
6. Surround yourself with positive, whole-hearted people, and endeavor to be one.
7. BE WITH WHOM YOU ARE WITH. (Also known as "put the dang phone down!")  I know she rolled her eyes as she read this one...
8. Don’t worry about your parents’ approval.  You had it the moment you took your first breath.
9. Give grace to everyone--even meanies--remembering that grace is by definition unmerited, and we're all dying for it.
10. You’re stronger than you know, but it’s okay to be weak sometimes—find the friends you can lean on and support.

So, there you have it.  Anyone have anything else to add?

Sex-traffickers, the Prophets and Jen Hatmaker

The past few weeks God has been creating a perfect storm that is MESSING. ME. UP.  I feel compelled to write, but I'm not even sure I can express clearly what is churning in me. I want to be polite, clear, and logical in challenging people, like the ever-gracious Tim Elmore, but my discontent is so deep right now that I think I'll probably slip more into a Matt Walsh-esque degree of snarkiness.

Except that, honestly, I don't feel snarky.  I feel desperate.

Here's the storm:

I have recently begun working to put on a 5k to raise money for She is Safe, an organization that works to fight human trafficking through prevention, rescue and restoration.  I've been interested in the issue for several years, but in recruiting helpers for my cause, I have been reading and re-reading stories of girls affected by human trafficking.  I am sickened by the number of cases in which it is actually a girl's family that sells her into slavery to be used up and abused as a commodity to satisfy the greed and perversion of oppressors.  What kind of parent would sell a child into prostitution?

At the same time, my chronological read-through of the Bible has landed me in Jeremiah (aka, the weeping prophet).  Turns out he was weeping because he was commanded to give God's message of judgement to a people who didn't want to hear it (Jeremiah 7:27). As He speaks through Jeremiah, God calls His people "adulterous" and accuses them of prostituting themselves to other gods.

Meanwhile, during my break from teaching, I am also finally reading the book 7:An Experimental Assault on Excess by Jen Hatmaker, which was recommended by a friend.  While reading the chapter on her drastic reduction of media consumption, the final "disturbance" collided with the previous two to produce a spiritual typhoon within me.  I don't know what it was specifically about that particular chapter (conviction, perhaps?), but suddenly the realization hit me full in the gut:

How can I be enraged by impoverished parents selling their daughters, when we here in the land of plenty are prostituting our own children to idols?  Because whether we realize it or not, I'm afraid we are.

For the past nine years I have worked in the youth ministry at our church.  For the past eight years I have taught writing classes to Middle School and High School students.  Every year for the past four years, the young people I've encountered have gotten markedly more self-absorbed, demanding and apathetic about the Gospel.  And I'm talking about the good kids.   This does not make me angry; it breaks my heart, because I LOVE these kids!

Sincere, godly parents bring their kids to church faithfully, send them to camp, VBS, and mission trips.  What they don't recognize is that their kids don't even see the spiritual feast laid before them because they can't take their gaze and attention away from their smart phones.  They have no interest in the Word of God because they are too busy broadcasting their own words and images into cyberspace and then compulsively checking their "approval ratings."  (I once listened to a group of 14- and 15-year-olds discuss their marketing strategies for getting Instagram followers.)

I've watched as teens receive praise and honor (heck, I've been one of the adults heaping praise) for worshipping at the altar of achievement, even when the pursuit of that success has become a source of identity, an idol, in the life of that student.  I've watched when that success leads to arrogance, pride and contempt for those less talented.

I've witnessed teens who obediently sit in church, passionless and bored, critiquing not the content of the message, but the entertainment value or delivery.  If it doesn't satisfy them, they feel they are absolved of the responsibility to listen--because the Word of God is no longer good enough on its own.  Yet I've seen these same seemingly passionless kids raising their hands in adoration for a boy band or football team. I know many girls who know exponentially more about the members of One Direction or Luke Bryant than they do about Jesus, and many boys who know more about their favorite athlete or video game than they do about their Savior.

More often than not, I leave my time spent with youth grieving for them and the emptiness that they don't even realize is their life.  I'm not blaming this entirely on the adults in their lives.  The culture that surrounds them certainly plays an overwhelming role, relentlessly bombarding them with lies and distractions.  I constantly thank God that I did not have to navigate my teen years during this generation.

But here is the conviction that is crushing me.  We tell our kids to follow Christ, but then we give them full access to every possible distraction that isn't blatantly evil.  We avoid boundaries because we fear stirring up a heart of rebellion.  Wanting to extend grace, we make excuses for "little"sins so often that I fear this generation doesn't see the need for a Savior, because they don't really think their sin is all that bad.

It's tempting to simply shrug these trends off and say, "Well, they're teenagers--it's a stage---they'll outgrow it."  We would be buying a lie.  According to Jen Hatmaker's research for 7, "94% of evangelical churches reported loss or no growth" last year.  She claims, "We are losing three million people annually, flooding out the back door and never returning."  The people flooding out are those who have been raised in church--those we thought were just going through a stage and would outgrow it.  Why do they leave?  Because they have found something else to worship.

Honestly, if I found out that one of my kids was battling an addiction to drugs, I would WAGE WAR on those drugs.  Why, then, do I buy into the notion that it's unreasonable to wage war on an addiction to an ipod, video game, cell phone or shopping?

My aim is not to point fingers or place blame, but simply to challenge us ALL to examine our role in the lives of our young people.

In my case, I know the first heart I need to examine is my own.  Do I have idols that pull me from Jesus?  Do I need to remove anything from my life that competes for first place?  Am I placing importance on any thing or behavior that is actually misplaced worship?  Am I making excuses for my own sins, rather than agreeing with God, being honest about them and repenting?  I want to start with myself because the best way to help the young people in my life is to set the example of honestly and humbly tearing down the idols in my own life.

Next, (and, I have to confess, this is MUCH harder for me), I need to put in place and enforce appropriate boundaries in the lives of those over whom I have authority.  This task is tough for me because I hate confrontation--and boundaries create confrontations.  Boundaries are not popular--and I want people to like me.  In many cases, the boundaries I need to set will be very countercultural. People will think I am weird--or worse--judgmental.  For a weak-willed, distractible people-pleaser like me, enforcing boundaries is a daunting task.

But God calls me to speak the truth, and the truth is this:  Anything that keeps a person from full surrender to Jesus is an idol, and we as parents, teachers, mentors, have an obligation to protect our young people from idolatry.   If not, we are prostituting them.

My Independent Thinkers

Hmmphfff.

Someone has been teaching my children to think for themselves, to search for truth and not just blindly accept ideas just because some authority says so.

...Oh, wait, that was me....

When I began homeschooling about six thousand years ago, one of my heart-felt convictions was that I wanted my children to know how to THINK independently.

I taught them to show honor and submit to authority, but also I wanted them to wrestle through the tough questions and challenge weak logic so that after the wrestling, the convictions that remained would be unshakable.

Beware of what you wish for.

Here's the thing...(cringe)...

I always kind of assumed that their convictions would end up matching mine--because I'm right.

My idea was that they would wrestle and search and get all grown-up and independent in their thinking and then come to the very deeply-held conviction that Mommy Knows Best.  (I do, you know.)

Imagine my frustration, then, the first time my beloved child--a child I carried in my womb for months, nursed, potty-trained, nurtured and poured truth into---had the audacity to disagree with me.

Scandalous.

It started when my oldest was about 14 years old, but back then I was the mom and I could still "say so."  She didn't have to agree with me, but she had to obey me.

We're entering new territory now.

My oldest is now 19--an adult in the eyes of the law--with two siblings close behind her.  If she wants, she can get a tattoo and there's nothing (legal) I can do about it.

She has legal grounds for saying, "You're not the boss of me!" (To her credit, she is wise enough NOT to say it...)

I can't even talk to the health insurance company to clear up a claim without her consent because "she's an adult." (Yeah, whatever... who pays the premiums?)

It's a bit unnerving, this loss of authority.

I raised my kids right--or as right as I knew how.

I encouraged them to think biblically and then taught them to do it.

I challenged their thinking when I thought it was faulty, and I instructed them to challenge mine when it contradicted the truth of the Bible.

I urged them to form their own values and convictions and hold them tightly.

And now...

now

I have to release them to live by their convictions.

When their convictions match mine,  it's a beautiful and exciting thing to behold.

When they don't, it's annoying.

In some cases it's even terrifying--because I realize that part of releasing them to live their convictions means allowing them to experience the full effect of the consequences of those beliefs.

What I really need to release is this notion that I have control, that their destiny is my responsibility.

It never was.

God gave me a job to do, but their lives are in His hands.  I need to release them not to themselves, but to Him.

They may mess up...just like I did.

Even in moments when they can't be trusted, He can.

Didn't He use even my gravest sins to bring me closer to Him?

Maybe I need to remember that the Father Knows Best. 

Safe from What?

Yes, and the Lord will deliver me from every evil attack and will bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom.  -- 2 Timothy 4:18

It would be very easy to read this promise through the lens of American prosperity and think that it was a promise that God would protect me from physical harm and mistreatment by others until the day I die.

Except that Paul is promising nothing of the sort.

Just read Acts: the man was beaten, rejected, imprisoned and finally beheaded! Most definitely NOT protection from physical harm.

Still, he considered himself "delivered" by God.

What?

Closer reading reveals that Paul was not delusional.

God did live up to Paul's confidence in Him.

You see, Paul didn't say he was confident God would deliver him from all physical harm, but from every evil attack.  He wasn't talking about a physical, earthly battle but an eternal, spiritual one.

Beaten, betrayed, persecuted, tortured, imprisoned and beheaded, God was faithful to Paul because regardless of the evil attacks, Paul entered God's heavenly kingdom with his faith and passion for Christ intact.  The Gospel was still his greatest treasure.  God had enabled him to finish the work He created for him to do.

The physical stuff was not the issue at all!

This past month my church family has lost two young members.

One was a good friend of the Cowboy, a mountain of a man named Greg, devoted to his wife and family.  He died suddenly, leaving them without the security of life insurance.

Just a week or two later, we prayed fervently and fasted for Molly, a 46-year-old wife, mother and teacher, asking God to protect her physically and restore health---only to bury her days later.

If I think that God's protection is only physical, my faith would be rocked right now.

Many of us did reel and ask: "How can He allow this?"

But today, I was reminded by Paul's letter to Timothy that God is faithful even when circumstances seem otherwise.

Greg's family had no life insurance, but he lived his life in a way that left them certain that God is still good. He left them the security of LIFE ASSURANCE.

 Molly's husband announced her physical death "with great sorrow and joy" because he knew her real life was just beginning.

From the apostle Paul's eternal perspective I can look at the lives of my two friends and say confidently that God did deliver them from every evil attack and brought them safely into His heavenly kingdom.

I wonder:

How often am I diligent in praying for the physical, but neglect to offer vital spiritual intercession?

I send my kids on mission trips and pray that they will have traveling mercies and good weather. I pray they will be safe from physical harm, disease and hardship. 

More importantly, I should be praying that God would enable them to complete the task that He has for them, that He would protect them from spiritual attacks that would distract them from the work at hand and that NO ungodly influence would interfere.

During a season of financial squeeze, I pray that God will meet our physical needs and provide my Cowboy with a good job.  

Really, I should pray that God would protect him from discouragement, and that the financial pressure would not tempt him to compromise his values or allow any seed of bitterness to take root or--worst of all--cause him to blame or distrust God.

Now, as he begins a new career wrangling jets instead of cows, I have been praying every time he gets in a plane, that it lands safely.  This is a good prayer, because I love him.  

But even more I need to pray that God will protect him from the distractions and temptations that will surround him, that he will be a witness to the goodness of God and the faithfulness of His Spirit to those around him, that God will deliver him from every evil attack. 

O, Father, forgive my temporal mindset.  Create in me a heart that would rather see my loved-ones tortured for their passion for Christ than to have them safe and happy but indifferent to Your Son.  Broaden my perspective to see that as long as my heart is YOURS then you have delivered me.  Help me live in a way that demonstrates that my physical and financial circumstances are only peripheral matters, important only if they magnify Your Name.

Missed Opportunities.

#309 Another chance to have an eternal conversation.

I read it as I review my list of 1000 gifts, and it haunts me.

Because I missed that chance.

Trips back "home" to Montana from Florida are very infrequent because of the expense--maybe once every three years or so--yet this year I was able to go twice.

Once for a 50th anniversary, once for a wedding. Happy occasions.

During both trips, my sweet mother encouraged me to get together with my much-loved advisor from college.  He was more than a teacher to me, he was truly a mentor.  The first person to get it through my thick skull that I was rather smart, but regrettably lazy when it came to academics,  he challenged me to live up to my potential.  He had a wonderful way of challenging without pushing.  Imagine a really intense cheerleader.

"He's been sick.  This may be your last chance to see him."

I believed her--but I didn't.  This man was a physical and intellectual powerhouse; my mind could not fathom that he would let even cancer defeat him.

Still, I tried.

I was fairly certain he was an atheist, so if he was indeed that sick, there was a conversation we needed to have.  Knowing him as I did, I was doubtful that he would have ears to hear of things eternal and supernatural, but I also knew that my responsibility was simply to speak and trust the Holy Spirit to do what He would with it.

I called and was shocked at the defeated, feeble voice on the other end.  He was happy to hear from me, but lacked the energy even to pretend to sound cheerful.  He was having some medical tests the next morning, but he and his wife (another favorite of mine) both wanted to get together and talk. We set up a time for the next afternoon.

The time of our appointment came and went, and I received a call that the tests had led to further tests. They would be at the hospital very late.  He would call me the next day--which was my last day in town.

He didn't call.  Mother said they had likely gotten very bad news and it would be best to leave them alone.

Well, I had tried.

I still could not wrap my mind around the reality that he wouldn't live to a ripe old age, like every good Kansan that I know. Also, in the back of my mind I assumed there would be another chance.

There was.

Three months later a dear friend from high school was getting married and we flew back to Montana again just for the weekend.

Another chance to have an eternal conversation. 


We were busy that weekend visiting with other transplanted Big Sky natives who were in town for the festivities.  Not so busy, however, that I couldn't have squeezed in a phone call or visit--and an eternal conversation.  Just busy enough that I could avoid thinking about it.

 I think I was a bit afraid.  How do you start that conversation?  "So, I hear you're dying...." 

What would I say to impress the importance of saving faith on a man who didn't believe in eternity? So much uncertainty, which I dealt with by procrastinating.

The weekend came and went, and I never called.

Three days later he died.  There would not be another chance.

Shortly after he died, my good friend shared a video with me of Penn Jillette of "Penn and Teller" fame.  In it, the very passionate atheist tells a story of a man who came to his show, waited in line, praised his performance, and then very humbly and intelligently offered to share the Gospel with him.

The comedian would have none of it, but in the video it was obvious that the man had stirred something in him because the Christian stranger had cared enough to share with him.

At one point Jillette looked dead at the camera and challenged professing Christians, "If you really believe that I will spend eternity in hell if I don't follow your Jesus-- if you really believe that-- how much do you have to hate a person not to share your faith with them?"

Did I hate my beloved professor?  NO!  But when it came right down to it, I loved my comfort more.

Oh, Father in Heaven, forgive me.  Help me to love others in way that matters eternally.  Help me to love them enough to be rejected by them and thought foolish. Over and over in Your Word, You tell Your people to go and proclaim--and to trust You to give them the right words at the right moment. Father, forgive me for forgetting and for not trusting You.  Help me to never miss another opportunity to have an eternal conversation.  

With One Heart

"If you look for Me wholeheartedly you will find Me....I have loved you, My people, with an everlasting love.  With unfailing love I have drawn you to Myself."  (Jeremiah 20:13; 31:3)

That's the heart of God.

He wants to love us and have us love Him--as a PEOPLE.  His love IS unique and individual--I am created to have a personal and intimate relationship with Christ.

However, I am noticing recently in Scripture that God loves us corporately as well.  We are His PEOPLE.

Through Jeremiah He said, "I will give them one heart and one purpose: to worship me forever, for their own good and the good of their descendants." (Jeremiah 32:39)

Just three chapters earlier is the famous "I know the plans I have for you..." verse that we all love to quote to assure ourselves that God will bless us and prosper us.  That promise,  however, is for his PEOPLE, not just individuals.  And what is that hope? What is that future?

"to worship me forever..."

It is a blessing; it is our prosperity because it is what we were created to do--together.

God created us to WORSHIP Him together, with one heart--which does not mean just an individual heart, but many hearts sharing one love for ONE God.

He says He created us this way, because it is good for us and our descendants.

Good for US, not Him--He enjoys our worship, but He doesn't need it.

If God is the One receiving all the worship, how can that be good for us?

I know this only because He has allowed me to experience it.  It is good for us because worship is simply a focus on God and who He is.  The beauty of focusing on God is that it pulls our focus off of ourselves.

This is good, because He is the solution to all our troubles and the object of all our longings.

Worship opens our eyes to who He is and what He can do through us.  It reveals to us His heart and His character...we know Him through worship.

And to know Him is to love Him.

Worship is good on an individual level, and God does desire me to worship intimately and in private. Even if no one around me joins in, I was created to worship God, to seek Him and to find Him.

Oh, but can you see the beauty and the blessing that comes when an entire sanctuary--or living room, or stadium, or meadow, or auditorium, or prison ward--full of people adore who Him for who He is, with all those hearts reaching out to Him as ONE?

Divisions and conflict would fall away because it is not about us, but about Him.

If we seek Him with our whole corporate heart, we-- as a people-- will find Him.  Imagine what He could do through us then.

#1060 - #1075

1060. Heavy-duty three-hole punch.

1061.  Brother Bear's never-ending growth spurt.

1062. Baby cranes

1063. Corn shoots popping up.

1064. The boot brawl event for kids at the Geneva rodeo--so cute!

1065. Phone chat with my big sis.

1066. Songbird and Happy Girl, off to take the ACT together.

1067. Seder dinner: a beautiful picture of God's plan for redemption.

1068. My chatty morning husband. (I see where Reed gets it!)

1069.  First week of "Far Above Rubies" completed.  Mom's who give gracious gratitude despite my shortcomings.

1070.  Helpful, organized women to step up to fill in my gaps.

1071.  Hallie and Grace leading younger girls.  (I hope those girls realize how lucky they are!)

1072. Melon field looking pretty: hand-hoed by my guy.

1073. The richness of God's Word when given focus and effort.

1074. Yahweh Elohim -- an almighty but intimately personal God. (Not that god, but my God.)

1075. Crystal bead of water in a sprout of corn.

Guest Post from Happy Girl

Notice

by Hallie Odell (2012)

There’s something better out there.

There are stories of revolution, of revival, of restoring of people’s hearts. They are stories that belong to the God of the universe, mastered and written by him for his glory.

There are also the people in those stories, people that were used and changed and molded and healed in ways they can hardly describe, ways that will alter their lives forever,

Those people and those stories and that God are all part of a giant, beautiful picture that will be on display at the end of time, when everyone who was watching will be able to see it and bask in the painter’s glory. It’s a beautiful thing, that picture—and it’s beautiful without even being finished yet.

Now, there’s that picture, all true and wonderful, and then there’s me.

I’m in some corner of the picture, walking in and out of the main scene enough to leave a few smudges when I exit. The rest of the time I spend in that little corner, existing in what I think is the epicenter of all things.

Materialistic America, that’s what it’s called.

It’s a foul, terrible, empty place. Filled with too many colors and too many things so that you suffocate under the bright lights and reflections. We fill ourselves with all these things, thinking that we’re different: that we’re embracing individuality much better than what we actually are.

But it’s all just stuff, and we’re all just the same.

We live in fear of our future, because we know what we will soon be. In fact, we’ve written book after book about it, and we are distressed by what we see. It’s like us under a magnifying glass, and we are terrible and selfish and shallow and we don’t like what we see.

But we don’t change what we see.

That I realized just today. You’d expect some revolution, some dramatic change or some movement where individuals rise up and show everyone that our corner of the picture is a waste. Where we turn around and run to the main scene, where there is a story and a people and a God over it all.

But there isn’t.

So now I know I’m called. Called to stand for myself and say no to what I’ve allowed all these years. This selfish life and this stuff and these colors that have been plastering me to this corner. I’ve been lazy and self- indulgent and cruel. I’ve been shallow and petty and shabby in character.

That ends now.

Here is the place and now is the time when I make a new resolution, a new war cry for my life, for

my stand, and for my people. This is my migration to the middle of the picture, to my God and to my people and to their story. Their story is now mine.

This is my cry:

That I will reject settling for just existing in the corner, being filled mostly with the stuff and the colors and the shallow meanings of life. Those days for me are done and over.

Now I will plant my foundation in the center, camp under the tent of my God, live with my people, and be a part. Be a part of their story. I will watch God paint his picture and tell his story, and I will make certain that I am one of those people he moves and changes and uses and heals.

And I will be changed forever.

But I will not end there. I will rise up with my people, and I will call back to those in my old life, those still plastered to the walls of color in the corner. I wall call to them to reject their old lives, with their things and their old, petty ways, and I will beg them to join us.

I will beg them to come.

To come and join us, to claim a spot under the tent of their God, with their people and be a part. Be a part of our story. To join us and watch our God paint the picture that changes them and uses them and heals them.

And their lives will be altered forever.

So then, together, we will pray and we will call and we will fight so that every last one moves from the corner of the painting to the tent of our God, where we will stay, alive and full and self-sacrificing, until the end.

Until the end, when we will praise our God.

Forever.