Driving While Black by Gretchen Sorin--a book review and some reflections

 Full disclosure: I grew up with a father who loved to drive and road trips were our thing.  So I have spent many a day traveling.  My Dad's way of planning a trip (especially just a weekend drive) was driving until there was a fork in the road, asking for a concensus of "left" or "right" and that's the way we went. Where, how and when we would go was not really a thing to consider.

That is not how one travels when they are 

 

 

This book was eye-opening to me.  Part memoir, part well-documented research, it tells the story of the what it was like to be black and travel, mostly by car, from the early sixties until today. Even with my knowledge of Jim Crow South, I had not considered how difficult just going to visit relatives or travel for work was.  The statistics of car ownership, motel accessibility, who would advertise in the Green Book, police stops, etc were so informative.  Balancing those statistics with her own family stories or stories of other travelers made them accessible.  I learned from this book.  I got angry with this book.  I more fully appreciated what the parents of black friends must have experienced and I was shocked that I didn't know.  That was the main thing I walked away from this book thinking, "how did I not know?"

I understood things from my childhood that I before reading this book, I didn't even realize I didn't understand. Why was one black family criticized for their 'uppity' Cadillac and why was another black family admired for theirs? A subtle perception of who had earned theirs? I see those subtlties now that I never noticed as a child.  That was one of the strengths of this book--her story. The author, in hindsight, recognizes many of the indignities that her parents endured, that they covered from her and her brother. So where her memories are of great road trips to see her grandparents, she now sees how orchestrated that trip was to keep them all safe. It worked similarly for me. I looked back and saw struggles and indignities that I did not recognise as existing before.  The difference is that I look at it from the position of privilege, so I have to own the fact that some of those indignities were perpetuated by people I care about, and all of those indignities were instigated by people who look like me. And that is difficult to process.  This book may have intended to inform, and it did that well.  But it also held up a mirror that caused me to evaluate some memories that were long forgotten.

I remember discovering that my mother's sophomore school yearbook had two sections: the front section where her pictures were and the 'colored' section at the back.  That was my first comprehension that there had ever been separate schools in my little hometown.  I learned that what was now the Kindergarten had once been the Colored School. I struggled to imagine. But, as we are prone to do as children, I put that down as 'ancient history' even if it was actually only six years before my birth! Because surely none of that happened recently. This book made that history my history. Traveling While Black speaks of the dangers of traveling in the South because of the dangers of the Klan. My first gut reaction was that was Mississippi or Alabama, but not in my quiet part of Texas.  Immediately I remembered a day just three years ago. I met my Dad in a nearby town for us to travel together to another community's street fair.  We were leaving my car at the courthouse.  Dad called me over and pointed to a corner building facing the courthouse.  He asked if he had ever told me about that building and shook my head.  He said that it had been a friend's restaurant for years.  I nodded as if I was interested, but honestly it was ancient history to me.  Then he said, "See that plaster up there?" I nodded and he said that was where they had to plaster over the bricks, because KKK was spelled out in the brick design and it couldn't be painted over.  Now, he had my attention.  The KKK met here? In this sleepy, little West Texas town that I had been to many times. That "history" happened here?  He then  quietly said,"It wasn't that long ago, I remember seeing it."  Even with all the reading and self-reflecting I have done, I had not articulated in my head that that Southern history happened in my back yard.  This book helped me bring that memory to life and recognize that the dangers had been, and still are, right here.

Another travel memory that this book brought to mind was from the early-1970s when we traveled to California to visit family.  It was summer. I remember that the plan was to cross the desert at night to be cooler. My brother and I would have slept in the back of the station wagon (pre-seat belt days). I remember waking up because we had stopped and my Mom telling me to stay down.  We had stopped because there was an accident and Dad had gone to see if they needed help. The van was on fire and the fire truck and ambulance soon arrived. So Dad came back to the car, but he was furious. Apparently one of the others who had stopped to 'help' had asked what the race of the person in the van was and made a disparaging remark that if the person was Native American (not the word used) they could "let them burn" but since he was black (also not the word used) they should save them. They had pulled the man to safety before the ambulance got there. Dad was furious at the inhumanity shown. I remember being shocked at how mad he was because, as much as I loved him, he was known for compartmentalizing race. Looking back I'm relieved that he really did value life over racial separation, but it makes me uneasy that I remember that moment with surprise. That memory was long buried until reading the sections about finding healthcare if a traveler had an accident on the road.  I wanted to read those sections and say it couldn't be true. But my own memories testify that getting help when non-white was real. I have to acknowledge the reality that something I take for granted was not granted to others. And that makes me both uneasy and angry.  

I appreciate this book.  I will revisit it.  As someone who loves to travel, I need to remember that travel has often been a privilege. I appreciate that this book brought history near, that it caused me to actually see some of the inequality I have witnessed and to struggle with that. I'm still "sitting with that uneasiness" because I'm not sure what to do with it.  I originally picked this book up as a staff recommendation from The Novel Neighbor bookstore in St. Louis.  I'm grateful to the staff member that put it on the recommendation shelf.  I'll be recommending it for a long while.

Outskirts

    Behold, these are but the outskirts of his ways,
    and how small a whisper do we hear of him!
    But the thunder of his power who can understand?”

    Job 26:14

The pastor read these words two weeks ago.  He was encouraging us that the goodness we see of God is only the very edges of what God has in store.

And I agreed. There is so much more that God has in store than what our finite minds can understand.

But one word echoed in my head.

Outskirts....outskirts...outskirts....outskirts.

Yes, we are on the outskirts of his ways, of his power, of his goodness.
But we are also on the outskirts of his justice.
And if we are not reaching out to those on the outskirts of society, then how will that justice, that power look when it falls on us?

And, then, some of us feel like we are on the outskirts of the society that gave us birth because it has become....too....much.
And some of us feel like we are on the outskirts of the evangelical church because it has become...dogmatic, closed.
And some of us have come from situations that forced us to the outskirts of who was welcomed. Thus we are drawn to those who are also forced to the outskirts.

Yes, the word has bounced in and around my thoughts for a couple of weeks.  It speaks some of the feelings that have not found words.  It speaks the desires of my heart to be with those who feel marginalized. It reminds me that God is sovereign and that his justice and his power and his love will all come to fruition in his timing and that I should be in awe of that, and working for that, and watching for that. It makes me want to see more than the outskirts of his plan and simultaneously be grateful that I am but on the outskirts of his awesome justice. It moves me to action and drops me to my knees.  

It is a place of  community. It is a place of reflection. It is a place of conviction, and also a place of hope. It is the next step in my journey of less. It takes me to the outskirts of stuff that others may deem as necessary but I feel a need to leave. It causes me to want to identify with others who are finding 'more' in the 'less'. It draws me to groups of people who can encourage me and for whom, hopefully, I can be an encouragement. It is my word of reflection for 2018.

What will it look like at the end of 2018? I don't know.  It will start with memorizing the passage from Job 26. It will continue with looking for places to volunteer or come alongside others on the journey.  It will mean speaking out more and being silent less. I live in a community where there must be Dreamers, and I'd like to know them and understand more the ambiguity in which they find themselves. I live in a University town that must have international students. I'd like to hear their stories. What can I learn of their home countries, of their experiences, of their hopes and their dreams? This journey is about broadening my vision of who feels on the outskirts of society--whether they look like they live on the outskirts or not. This year will be about continuing to read on  difficult topics, and maybe finding a community with whom to discuss those things. It will be about listening to God's whispers and sharing that hope with others.

There may not be a single, tangible thing upon which I can reflect the last week of December 2018. But I know that there will be a change in me if I focus on the outskirts. So that is what I will do.

Don't set Limitations

I remember it clearly. I was maybe eight years old and my parents were going away for a few days. My brother and I were to stay with grandparents. For some reason, my Mom was worried about her house plants getting watered. One of the instructions she gave was, "Let (brother) water the plants, Mipa tends to kill them." I don't remember ever having killed a plant before that day. However, the reality was now firmly planted. I could not grow houseplants.

Fast forward to the summer between my Junior and Senior year of college. My roommate was going to Europe to hike across it with her fiance.  I was staying in our house for the summer, taking a couple of summer courses. So she, naturally, asked me to take care of her African violets. The African violets that her fiance gave her when he proposed. Her precious African violets.  I remember a feeling of panic that "I kill plants," even as I smiled and said of course. I was terrified that summer that I would kill the plants, but I didn't. They thrived. It should have been a lesson to my pre-twenty self that I didn't kill plants, but instead I thought it was a fluke.

For years I avoided house plants, knowing that I was the curse of death. But a friend gave me one when we lived in Germany, and it lived. In spite of being put in a box and transported across multiple country borders, it lived. Then we moved into this house three years ago. Our landlord left a beautiful orchid to welcome us into our new home. I, of course, expected to kill it. But I did not. It bloomed again...and again....and again. In fact, sometime this week it should burst into bloom for the fifth time since we moved. I have finally realised, I don't kill plants.

I don't know why my mother said that. Maybe I had, as a child, over watered or under watered something. Maybe it was a throw-aside comment that was a joke. I honestly cannot tell you. What I do know is that for years it dictated something I believed about myself. Something trivial, but something that was deep in my perception of who I was. And it was totally false.

As I watched the buds come on my orchid, I was thinking about how easy it is to set limitations that become part of who a person is. One of my children struggles with math. Saying math is not her thing actually sets an expectation that she approaches math with dread that she will not be able to do it. Back in college, when discussing language courses, my friend the Russian major made a joke that of course I didn't like languages, I didn't even do English well (making fun of my Texas country accent more than my use of language). I knew it was a joke. I knew that it was not true, after all I had been one of forty students hand-picked to help teach writing out of the school. But I still hear that "joke" when I'm writing and wonder if I have any right to be writing. It is easy to set limitations. I am determined that I will be more diligent in not setting limitations on what others believe they can do with any careless words that might come from my mouth. I don't want to have been the source of such self-criticism.

Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. 

Proverbs 16:24

Father help me to use words that expand someone's horizons, not limit their perception. Help my words be healing and encouraging. And when I have set limits on a person's soul, send others to show a better way. Amen.

 

Searching for Less

Our world reminds us constantly that we should be on the lookout for "more." More time, more money, more popularity, more friends, more comments. More, more, more. At some point last year I began to ask myself if I really cared about more of anything. I began to realize that I did not. What I really wanted was the opposite.

Then, I read Falling Free by Shannan Martin about how they had left their life of abundance for a life that was based on much less but gave them so much more (my description here). I was challenged. I was awe-struck. And that little voice that was telling me that I did not care about 'more' got louder. It was not telling me to sell the house and move somewhere else. It was telling me that maybe I could find "more" in my life by dealing with a lot less.

Various things over the last two months have sung this song.  Reminders that stuff is not what makes anyone happy. Sermons reminding of caring for the least of these. A Bible study of Proverbs that warns about accepting wealth and status quo without balancing it with the wisdom of God. By the middle of November I knew what my word for 2017 was to be, and it was daunting. It was........

LESS

Now before you get concerned, it does not mean leaving the house or the life that God has clearly blessed us with at this time. It is about depending more on Him and less on stuff or others. As always, I find it difficult to articulate what the word for the year resounds in my heart. I just know that it is echoing in deep places where God wants to work.  But some of what I hope to see in 2017 is this:

*Less accumulation of paper and materials that are not needed.  In some cases, this is my continuing efforts to digitalize some things and let go of the paper.  Last year it was all of my university notebooks (most just shredded, some digitalized before shredding).  This year it is the early portfolios from homeschooling, a box of my mother's papers that I have not wanted to deal with, and a last box of pictures (from my high school days) that need to be sorted and digitialize anything worth keeping. One of my realizations is that we move too much stuff that is just sitting in boxes.  If it is not important enough to get out of the boxes when we move, maybe I don't need it. If it is the memory it evokes, that can be pictured and carried on a disk. God will call us to move again someday, and I want less stuff to carry with me when he calls.
*Less time spent worrying what others think of the life I am called to live. Yes, that is as self-centered as it sounds.  I spend way too much time worrying how others will accept my choices to home educate, to not have a car, to wear what I wear, to set the limits I set for my kids.  The truth is, most people truly don't care. And if they do care, I think it is their issue not mine. I know that I do not spend anytime criticizing my friends who do things differently than I do. It is their life and their calling, not mine. So why do I give so much thought-space to what others think? I want to give this less thought space.
*Less time doing things that do not build me up. I discovered long ago that there are certain television programs that are not good for me to watch as they will invade my dreams and take away rest. I have been realizing that there is more to this concept for me than I have given credence. There are shows (mostly reality-type shows) that only serve to make me feel dissatisfied with what I have. There are shows that, although I have tried to overlook it, the language bothers me to the extent that it makes me restless. There are things that others can watch for a "mindless past time" that are anything but mindless to me. Thus, I have been cutting those things out of my life. I want that to continue. This is also true of reading. I enjoy reading a wide array of genres and authors, but I am beginning to recognize that there are some I just need to walk away and leave on the nightstand or in the library.  Ironically, I also have more books on my to-be-read list that are tough subjects, even subjects that I don't agree with the subject matter, that remind me that we live in a fallen world and that I need to be showing that world Jesus. So it is not avoiding things that make me think, but avoiding things that make me think of only myself and not look out to others.
*Less voiced negativity and more thankfulness need to be in my daily conversations. One of my friends posted something recently about no longer apologising for some things but instead voicing gratitude (e.g. not "I'm sorry I was late," but "thank you for waiting, it means a lot to me"). That made me think that often I choose to voice the negative rather than look for a way to be grateful. I'm going to try to be less verbal with negative this year. Maybe that will help my teens who have their mother's fluency in sarcasm to also be less negative.
*Less half-hearted rituals and more focus on what God is saying. It is so easy to tick the box of a quiet time, a prayer time, leading a study or helping with a ministry. It is more difficult to use those activities to truly connect with God and focus on the changes that need to be made. I want the latter not the former.
*Less unhealthy things entering my life. Whether it is junk food or junk TV or toxic people, I want to be more diligent to let in healthy and exclude the unhealthy.
*Less holding on to people. This has never been an issue for me, since we have been the ones leaving so much. I've always had to hold people loosely. But we have been here for long enough that I begin to think in terms of "I don't know what I'd do without (___)."  That shows the depths of some relationships. But it also has the focus on the person, not on God. This year, our church will plant a new church and about 100 people will go to the plant. We are not going, at this point. We feel as a family that there is more we can offer at Central than we can offer to the plant. But, some dear friends are going. And that makes me sad. I am also excited for them. In the bittersweet, I find that I am in a place that I need to hold people lightly trusting God to move them, and me, where we all can best serve. I need to celebrate and enjoy every moment I have with people, but not feel so dependent that it leaves trust out of the picture.

So, there it is. My word for 2017: less.  My girls have announced that it is not as exciting as last year's word. They are dubious of some of the things that I see the need to focus. But I know that God has places he wants to clean out. I know that there are things I need to let go of in order to hold onto him more. I'm willing to take that risk.  We'll see where it has led me in 365 days. Let's go.

Revisiting 'Seriously?!'

Last year was the year of taking things “Seriously?!” As always, I had no idea the places God would take me during the year with that word. But he used that word to stretch me and challenge me and inspire me. Last year I wrote, 

There was it was! My word. I cannot begin to tell you how many dozens of times a day I hear my teen ask (sarcastically, of course), 'seriously?' Everything about her questions whether we are serious about what we say. It is a teen-friendly word to challenge diligence and gospel-living. It is my challenge for 2016. What will it look like? Here are few things that I hope will take root:
* I want to take my pursuit of God's heart through Bible Study seriously.
* I want to seriously memorize Scripture.
* I want to seriously consider what it means to be the temple of God--and to take serious care of that temple physically, mentally and emotionally.
* I want to open my eyes and heart to the plight of the weak and poor, and seriously pursue doing things that make a difference.
* I want to have serious discussions with my children--about Scripture, about life, about living for Christ in a broken world, about their hopes & dreams.
* I want to take opportunities to have serious discussions with friends and strangers alike.
* I want to live with an intentionality that allows others to see that I take Jesus seriously.

We live in a world of a lot of competing ideologies. I need to be intentional about what my motivations are. My kids will hear ideas and recommendations that sound like edicts from all types of people who take their beliefs seriously. I hope that when my kids look back they can say the same about what they learned at home through both word and deed. This year, I'm taking that mandate SERIOUSLY.

Probably the area that this stretched me the most was in discussions with the girls, and in particular Jewel. The year 2016 did not disappoint in things to discuss and take seriously. Refugee crises, sexism/racism/classism and political futures, the presidential race in general, relationships/marriage/definitions, war in Syria, bullying, Brexit, natural disasters and more. We have had deep conversations and sarcastic interchanges. We have laughed together and cried together. We have agreed and debated. We have gotten angry, and then had to decide if it was selfish anger or righteous anger. We’ve decided where we could help and we have admitted when we felt helpless. I have been proud of the girls this year that they have struggled with current events and tried to find their own responses, not just parroting our responses. It has been some of the best parenting challenges I’ve faced head-on and felt like I’ve succeeded, sometimes.

Whilst conversations at home are easier, those kind of conversations outside the home are more challenging. Surprisingly, Brexit and the US Presidential election opened doors to talk. People would ask for my opinion as an American. Whilst trying to avoid blatant political statements, I had opportunities to express my dependence on God in these areas. I’ve had difficult conversations about immigration (remembering that I am an visitor in this country) and race and feeling alienated. Who has been the most willing to engage in these conversations has often greatly surprised me. But I am grateful for the conversations I have had.  

A challenging study of Acts followed by a more daunting study of Proverbs gave plenty of opportunities to decide if I wanted to take the Scripture seriously. I did not learn twenty-four verses, but the ones I did memorize have challenged me even more.

I am thankful for this word. I plan to leave my Seriously?! sign up in the kitchen as a daily reminder that these issues are not frivolous and I need to be intentional in my responses. Several of the books I read this year pointed me to the plight of those who are not as financially blessed or who live on the fringes of whatever society they find themselves. These books and these thoughts have  informed and developed my word for 2017. Tomorrow, I’ll write more of that.

Power Exchange

"The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any."

Alice Walker

I don't know where I saw this quote, but I jotted it down (like I do so many quotes that I like) and quickly moved on to the next task. The quote kept nudging the edge of my thoughts. I would look at it, and then put it aside again, and again.  But it won't let go.

The truth is, I tend to get caught up in the routine of my life and forget that I have any power. I fight the cycle of get the teenagers to do their homework, pull the four year-old off the furniture, make the meals, do the laundry, and maybe, if I work it in, read my Bible or seek to help others outside our home. Then I collapse in bed only to get up and do it all over again. And I wonder why I have this restlessness that says "things don't have to be like this." I don't want to be controlled by the routine. I want to be a transforming factor in my life not a conforming minion.

I've been doing interesting reading these last few weeks about injustice and ethics (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lachs by Rebecca Skloot) and extreme courage in a time of absolute evil (Anne Frank Remembered: The Story of the Woman Who Helped Hide the Frank Family by Miep Gies and Alison Leslie Gold). That part of me that fueled the social worker of the past wants to be a righter of wrongs. But the pragmatic person sitting here is not sure she could be a voice for justice anymore. Notice I said could be, because right now I'm pretty sure I am not.

This week I've been following the Compassion bloggers who are in Ecuador. I'm overwhelmed, again, to see the poverty...and the hope...that these bloggers bring to their readers. Once again, I'm challenged. As a Compassion sponsor I act on a belief that an organisation like Compassion can and does release children from poverty. I am happy with how I see my small funds go to help children. I love receiving the letters and pictures that show that they are growing and healthy. I cry and I pray when I receive letters that say that they have been ill but are still going to school. I write letters because I hope that I give some encouragement. But it takes trips like the current Ecuador trip to remind me that what we are doing is sharing the power we have with those who don't have it. Shannan Martin has absolutely wrecked my world this week with her posts, but this one about not losing hope has reminded me that there is a reason why I sponsor kids.

As I've mentioned before, we are studying Acts this season at church. Sunday we were looking at Acts 15. We were challenged by the questions--"Do you believe the gospel is good news?" and "If you believe it, are you living it out?" We were further challenged to consider the choices we make, and in areas that are not sin-related to consider if our choices are helpful or beneficial to others in their walk with God or toward God. It is a reminder that I hold a power to help and to encourage or to distract and to discourage. My choices matter. And I need to not forget that power. Because even if I am acting in such a way that says I am powerless to affect big changes, the decisions I make are impacting others. I want that impact to be intentional and God-honouring, not incidental.

So as I think about a year of taking what God says Seriously!, I am thankful for the reminders that I can be a voice for those in need and that the choices of my life speak volumes about justice, equality and hope. I want to be intentional that they are speaking for God's justice and God's hope. Giving people God's power is an exchange I can be happy to make.

Happy New Year 2016!

It's another new year! Seems the older my children get, the faster the years fly past. I ended 2015 mostly happy with how my year of "Harmony" had progressed. As I wrote about in November, God continues to challenge me to line up what I believe with how I outwardly portray myself. That, I believe, is a life-long learning journey but I feel that I am making progress. December was taken for pure family time. We took a family cruise to celebrate 20 years of marriage. My Dad and his wife joined us and we had a wonderful time just being together. Am amazing massage may have brought some much needed harmony to my physical body, but time away making memories with my family brought much needed mental and spiritual harmony. That word will continue to inform and encourage 2016.

As the year was drawing to a close, I was putting much consideration into my word for 2016. For over a month, I contemplated a continuing thought about living the gospel, demonstrating practical Christianity in light of a hurting world and helping the girls (especially the girls, Tree is still young for these concepts) to understand that gospel-living is of utmost priority. (Or, at the very least, I need to be making it priority.) But I was stuck. They were great ideas, but the were not a concise word. And, I need a word--something simple to keep in front of my scattered mind.

I've thrown around several words, all lacking on some level:

diligent--it did not seem to be teen-friendly, and as I said I want my girls to also relate
intent--this word was overdone in these lists a few years ago, by myself and others, and has lost some of its intent
gospel--just put out there that this year was about good news. This was the strongest contender but it wasn't inspiring me to live a certain way or change anything

Then, in a recent sermon, just as He does each year, God drew my attention to my word. The speaker said something about the Magi took the search for the new King seriously, packing gifts and traveling long distances to honour him. He then asked, "Do we take our pursuit of Jesus seriously?"

There was it was! My word. I cannot begin to tell you how many dozens of times a day I hear my teen ask (sarcastically, of course), 'seriously?' Everything about her questions whether we are serious about what we say. It is a teen-friendly word to challenge diligence and gospel-living. It is my challenge for 2016. What will it look like? Here are few things that I hope will take root:
* I want to take my pursuit of God's heart through Bible Study seriously.
* I want to seriously memorize Scripture.
* I want to seriously consider what it means to be the temple of God--and to take serious care of that temple physically, mentally and emotionally.
* I want to open my eyes and heart to the plight of the weak and poor, and seriously pursue doing things that make a difference.
* I want to have serious discussions with my children--about Scripture, about life, about living for Christ in a broken world, about their hopes & dreams.
* I want to take opportunities to have serious discussions with friends and strangers alike.
* I want to live with an intentionality that allows others to see that I take Jesus seriously.

We live in a world of a lot of competing ideologies. I need to be intentional about what my motivations are. My kids will hear ideas and recommendations that sound like edicts from all types of people who take their beliefs seriously. I hope that when my kids look back they can say the same about what they learned at home through both word and deed. This year, I'm taking that mandate SERIOUSLY.

Seeking Harmony

I began 2015 by choosing the theme word ‘Harmony.’ It was to be a reminder that, even when waiting for the things where I have prayed and hoped for God to move, that my life needs to be in harmony with his call. Only then does it play out as beautiful music and not cacophonous noise.

Over the last few weeks our church has begun a study of the early church in Acts. Combining those lessons with the lessons of my small group over the summer as we looked at ‘Respectable Sins,’ I have been reminded of the utmost importance of keeping our inner belief system and our outer actions in harmony. What we do is, truly, more important than what we say.

“For each tree is known by its own fruit. For figs are not gathered from thorn bushes, nor are grapes picked from a bramble bush.  The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks."   Luke 6:44-46

I would love to sit here and type that what my heart says it believes is always in harmony with the actions that follow. But, I would be lying. I can say that I serve a God of immense patience (Ex 34:6) and who has saved me from an impatient spirit. Yet, I still find myself losing it with the pre-schooler who needs to be told twelve times to put on his shoes. I can truly believe that beauty comes from an understanding of my place as God’s creation, and still attempt to use charm to get my way (Prov 31:30). I can voice a demand for justice for the poor, and walk passed the beggar on the street without even seeing him. My inner compass says that everyone needs to hear the gospel, but my outer actions do not always tell even my closest friends. Harmony? Not so much.

My grandfather would define integrity as “action and words being lined up.” So in many ways, integrity equals harmony. I am so grateful that God is using the sermons and Bible lessons in my life to draw me more in line. The more we seek to live in harmony with God, the more we will see where we miss the mark. That is one of the characteristics of discipleship—it continues to show us where we fall short. I’m thankful for the reminders. It illumines the path to make it easier to find my way. Maybe, today, you needed the reminder as well.

Father thank you when you show me where I fall short of living in harmony with you. Help me to always be willing to hear your conviction and adjust my life to be in harmony with yours. Amen.

When Things Are Out of Control

I recently attended a conference entitled "Control Freak or Trusting?" Those of you who know me, know exactly where I fall on that spectrum. *sigh* And, as such, it is frustrating me that things beyond my control, and a few things within my control, kept me from writing the last several days. So there is nothing finished enough to publish. Instead, I will leave you with the verses that the speaker used to remind the "recovering control freaks" in the audience that "God has this" and we can relax.

A voice says, “Cry!”

And I said,“What shall I cry?”

All flesh is grass,

and all its beauty is like the flower of the field.

The grass withers, the flower fades

when the breath of the Lord blows on it;

surely the people are grass.

The grass withers, the flower fades,

but the word of our God will stand forever.

Isaiah 40:6-8

If there is anyone else out there in recovery, trust Him. His Word stands and he has control of whatever is happening in your life. I'll be back with more soon.

Serving with Babes In Arms

He was the 'duty manager' for the day at church. That meant that he was leading the morning team, making certain people were in place to keep things running smoothly, and being the overall go-to person for the morning. He is not one of the paid ministry team, he's a volunteer who is willing to accept the responsibility on his Sunday on duty to help the ministers of the church not be bombarded by the myriad of things that can happen on a Sunday morning.


But, he is also a father. And on this Sunday morning, his ten month-old daughter decided that she, too, needed Daddy to be on duty in  her life. She wanted him. And he found himself in a place that parents often find themselves--trying to balance family and work and ministry and keep it all in perspective.


So, what did he do?  Without hesitation, he took his daughter in his arms and he led the newcomers down the aisle to open seats. He did both. He was her Daddy first and was happy to have her. But he never missed a beat in doing his duties as well. (And for her part, she was adorable pointing her chubby arms to the seats and smiling widely that she was in Daddy's arms.)


And in that simple act of just doing what needed to be done, I was encouraged. So often I can be flustered, thinking I have to sacrifice one for the other or do neither very well when family and ministry commitments collide. But sometimes the answer is not sacrifice, but combination. In our small group, we meet two weekends a month, in addition to mid-week Bible Study. It is a more relaxed time of fellowship and study that allows the whole family to attend. One of my main objectives, however, is not about the ministry I lead, it is about my family. I want my children to not only see me serve, but be able to serve alongside. When we are preparing the meal we serve together. The girls often plan a skit or activity for the younger children to be involved during Bible Study. They are learning to serve. Often I am asked if it bothers me to 'give up' Sundays for house group. The answer is 'no.' I'm not giving up family time--I'm serving with my family. I'm finding a way for combination not separation.


It is encouraging to me that I worship and serve within a church setting that encourages families to be family first and to serve together. That picture of that beautiful little girl in her Daddy's arms whilst he served the church will stay with me for a long time. I know she will grow up seeing her family serve. I pray that I give the same example to my children.


Thank you Father that you allow us to keep in harmony our family life and our ministry life--that it is the life that you have called us to live. Thank you for opportunities to teach my children to serve and for those amazing times when we serve side-by-side. Thank you that my family gives me the freedom to pursue my gifts and thank you that I can give them the same freedom. As you teach me more and more about living in balance and harmony, thank you for the picture of this father serving with his infant as a living example of your harmony. Amen.



photo from www.morguefile.com attributed to puravida

Who You Going to Copy?

My grandfather was a man of great integrity. He was the type who could seal deals with a handshake and no one would question his sincerity. He was also a man who had very little good to say about the church. He refused to associate with "those hypocrites" or anything they believed. Even from a young age I would argue that "they" would have to answer for themselves, but that was no reason to abandon the church. There is truth in that. But I've also grown to understand that there is also truth in being careful of whom we associate.  Recently I heard a sermon on the letter of 3 John.  I am not sure I have ever heard a sermon on this passage before. If I have, I must have only half-paid attention. But on that Sunday, it struck chords deep in my soul. Don't imitate the evil of Diotrephes, but be like Demetrius. We must be careful of our associations.

 I wrote to the church, but Diotrephes, who loves to be first, will not welcome us. So when I come, I will call attention to what he is doing, spreading malicious nonsense about us. Not satisfied with that, he even refuses to welcome other believers. He also stops those who want to do so and puts them out of the church.
Dear friend, do not imitate what is evil but what is good. Anyone who does what is good is from God. Anyone who does what is evil has not seen God.  Demetrius is well spoken of by everyone—and even by the truth itself. We also speak well of him, and you know that our testimony is true.   3 John 9-12

There is a person on the outskirts of my life who I have greatly admired for the Biblical knowledge that she has. At times, I have even been a little intimidated by that knowledge. But alongside that admiration and intimidation, I have also felt that inner warning that all is not right. I even know what is not right. There is one (at least one) area of belief that this person holds that is totally outside my understanding and conviction of the Bible's teaching on the church. And, honestly, it is a pretty foundational piece of doctrinal difference. I have tried to overlook that difference, because there is so much that is good in this person's belief and life. Don't hear me wrong, she is not a Diotrephes. She is not malicious in her beliefs and she does not overtly try to exclude others. But she is vocal and it can be divisive. I have tried to justify that "this is just an area to disagree and that we will both be held accountable for our beliefs" whilst at the same time attempting to emulate other parts of her life. But this passage has challenged me. I must be careful about who I copy. And if there is something that I am so glaringly convicted within the actions of a 'heroine' maybe I shouldn't be holding that person up to imitation.


Character and doctrine matter. I often tell the girls to be careful who they choose as friends and role models. Who they are associating with will, in large part, determine choices they make in the future. If it is a good teaching for my girls, it is probably also a good teaching for me. Who am I emulating? Do they lead me to be more like Jesus? Or are they causing a division in my spirit? I need to choose to emulate the Demetriuses of this world and not the Diotrephes.


Dear Father, thank you for the wonderful friends and role models that you have given me to help me along this path of discipleship. Help me to make wise choices in who I copy. Help me to have wise discernment when something in someone's life doesn't feel right for me. And Lord, help me to be a Demetrius for those around me. Convict me if there are things in my life that could lead people away from you. For your glory........Amen

Remembering the Words

I had a different post in line for today, but feel that I need to ponder on it a  little more before sharing.  So in place of it, I'm just going to share some of the verses I've been memorizing (or at least reflecting on daily) since April. I haven't been posting my Siesta Memory Verses, but I have been trying to keep up.  Here is some of what God is imprinting on my heart. Hope they encourage you the way they encourage me.


Better is one day in your courts
    than a thousand elsewhere;
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
    than dwell in the tents of the wicked.
Psalm 84:10

Hatred stirs up conflict,
    but love covers over all wrongs.

Proverbs 10:12

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—
Ephesians 2:4-5

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:4

When you walk, they will lead you;
    when you lie down, they will watch over you;
    and when you awake, they will talk with you.

Proverbs 6:22

Better is a dry morsel with quiet
    than a house full of feasting with strife.
Proverbs 17:1

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.

Colossians 1:15

If you will seek God
    and plead with the Almighty for mercy,
if you are pure and upright,
    surely then he will rouse himself for you
    and restore your rightful habitation.
And though your beginning was small,
    your latter days will be very great.

Job 8:5-7

Be encouraged.........MiPa

Shredding My Life Away

I'll admit it--I have been a paper hoarder.  I have been loathe to throw away school papers, important papers, sermon notes (okay this is more German's hoarding but the papers are here in my office), things the kids drew, things the kids wrote, etc. etc. etc.  So my goal for the past (2) years has been to GET RID OF THE PAPER.




I started easy. I started with sermon notes.  I scanned the notes into pdfs, categorized them by book of the Bible in to a nice computer file, recycled the paper.  I said I was getting rid of paper not content! Paper gone, I began to breathe a little deeper.  I did not realize how much paper clutter was affecting me.  With the sermon notes came 10 years worth of prayer notices from the church, since often the notes were written on the back. It was sometimes fun, sometimes heart breaking to read those prayer requests and know how the situations ended. Those I shredded, because they are someone's personal details and I didn't feel comfortable just tossing into recycling. Then I recycled the shredded paper.




Next step--college notebooks. Yes, I still had them. I actually still refer to some of them (especially my seminary notebooks) whilst planning home group and home school topics.  So, obviously, I don't want to not have the content. But I also did not want the two boxes taking up any more room in my attic. So, more scanning. More remembering. Now I have neat computer files for each of my math classes, my seminary classes and a couple of other classes that impacted me. I can find material without hauling out a box when I need it. Won't my kids be ecstatic when they get to Calculus that I have access to my Calc I-III tests! Yeah, probably not, but I am thrilled.  Again, volumes recycled. I am breathing better.




This summer I tackled my personal filing cabinet. This was the most difficult. Two drawers full of keep-sakes and work notes and things from my Mom. I tackled keepsakes first by scanning the ticket stubs or programs of concerts and college activities. There is now a computer file for each of the children with scanned copies of their early writing or drawing. I confess, I kept 2-3 for each of them, but recycled the rest. Out of five large keepsake files, I now have one very thin one. Very few things made the cut--a card from my grandmother when I graduated high school, DeForest Kelley (Dr Bones McCoy on Star Trek) autograph, the first poem I submitted for publication, a note from my Great Aunt my first year in college.  That file now makes me smile, not hyperventilate! I have gathered writing that inspires me over the years. I re-read those, scanned the ones that still spoke to me--about half--and recycled the rest.


Then I tackled my work files. I scanned one copy of each of my resumes through the years and shredded the 25 extra copies I had kept. I scanned the my Education certificates from social work days as a record of classes taken and shredded the evidence.


That is when I hit the next file--the rejection file. Every rejection letter ever received during a very difficult job hunt nineteen years ago. I kept the letters! All of them! For what reason, I cannot tell you. But when I found the file, I had a gut-level, physical reaction of remembering all that rejection and uncertainty. AND, I had an internal debate with myself of whether I should keep them. You read that correctly, I considered keeping them! In the end, sanity won out and that file of rejection letters received its just-due. It was shredded. All of it. And it probably felt better than all the other reams of paper that had been shredded prior or since. It was more than paper. It was something that I had kept around, that in some sense was still defining who I was. Even though I had found the right job after that difficult search, and even though I made some of my very best friends in the jobs that resulted from that search, and even though it was NINETEEN years ago and I had been a successful social worker and was now doing something that I loved. Despite all the facts, I still defined myself, on some level, by the jobs I did not get.




Last night I watched Brene' Brown's amazing TEDtalk on shame. In it she differentiates between shame and guilt. She says that guilt says "I made a mistake" and shame says "I am a mistake." I don't know about you, but I grew up in a shame-based culture. There was very little emphasis on just a behaviour being wrong; the emphasis said that if you exhibited a behaviour it was a sign that you were wrong. And I internalized that for a long time. Keeping a file that says "you are a failure" demonstrates how deeply I had internalized that. But it is not true! I may have applied at places that were wrong for me--or perhaps the mistake is that they couldn't see how great I was for them.  But the missing out on a job was not a failure--and I should not use it to define whether I am useful. Shredding that file was one more step in my saying that I would not be defined by a shame-based past. 




Earlier this week I sorted through the last of the files, deciding what to keep, what to scan and what to shred. It was the file of our past church and the event that led to the shaming incident by the pastor which resulted in our leaving both the leadership and, eventually, that church. It was painful to revisit. I shredded over a hundred pieces of paper that were email conversations that had hurt so much that I had printed them to keep them. But now they are gone. What is left is the objective elements of that incident--the architect reports of what the church could achieve and the minutes of the meetings where it was approved and then denied. I'll keep the objectivity because it helped to define me. In fact, it was probably the first time in my life I could say "I'm sorry that what I did upset you and I apologize for (specific act) but I am not sorry about who I am." I never realised until this week that it was that extremely painful event that taught me the difference between "making a mistake" and "being a mistake" and that the biggest issue was that I refused to accept the shame that everyone wanted me to have (so that they would not have it). Mistakes were made. But I stopped letting them define me. And this week, I stopped holding on to them. I shredded them. All of them. Without regret.




Shredding my life has been life-changing.  On a physical level I have four less boxes of paper that gets moved from place to place. AND I have learned to just go ahead and shred it rather than keep it so I don't end up with more paper accumulating. But, more importantly, on a mental and spiritual level it has been an exercise in letting go of things which hurt me and that I then allowed to define me. I'm slowly shredding the things of my past that want to cover me with shame. It is freeing. May I encourage you, if there are things that you need to let go, please stop defining yourself by the mistakes of the past and trust in the one who forgives it all.

Instead of your shame
    you will receive a double portion,
and instead of disgrace
    you will rejoice in your inheritance.
And so you will inherit a double portion in your land,
    and everlasting joy will be yours.

“For I, the Lord, love justice;
    I hate robbery and wrongdoing.
In my faithfulness I will reward my people
    and make an everlasting covenant with them.

Isaiah 61:7-8

image from www.morguefile.com, attributed to pippalou

Holiness Stuff

Jewel and I are studying the Middle Ages.  We were discussing the rise of monasteries and how they were crucial to the development of books (especially written Scripture).  One of the questions that the text asked was, "Would you have wanted to live in a monastery?" I was expecting a negative answer, especially in light of the fact that this is my child that loves sleep more than anything. She could never have managed a 4AM prayer call. But I wasn't expecting,

"No, I don't like all that Holiness stuff."

She quickly added, "I like God and all but all that other stuff--praying at certain times and giving up so much, that's not what I want."

I smiled at the "giving up so much." And yet...

Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul? If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of them when he comes in his Father’s glory with the holy angels.”
Mark 8:34-38

In a recent training session at church we were challenged that our job was to 'make disciples that make disciples.' The trainer asked why we are hesitant to say upfront to someone who is exploring Jesus' call that part of discipleship is to in turn tell others and help them become more like Jesus. It seems that we mostly focus on the 'getting saved' bit and not on the 'following' bit. The discussion that ensued was about wanting people to stay and if it sounds hard maybe they won't, that we ourselves don't necessarily spend enough time considering the cost of discipleship and that we don't want to make the gospel sound work-based. All of the discussion was good. I learned much from listening to the others. But I kept hearing Jewel's words, "I don't like all that Holiness stuff." I think, for me, the gist of the matter is that "I don't like all that holiness stuff"--I don't like thinking I have to give up anything to be a follower of Christ. As I wrote on Tuesday, the ungodliness of not even considering God as a part of my day creeps in and consumes.

I'm not talking about 4AM prayer calls, (or 9AM, or noon or 6PM). I'm not talking about regulating and scheduling God. Nor I am saying that it depends on certain works, or a certain translation of the Bible or morning devotion, or telling a specified number of people the 'good news' each week, or any of the other things we might equate to holiness or discipleship. I'm talking about actually living my life, every day, like I am a follower of Jesus Christ. It is about not losing him in the busyness of life. It is about finding godliness by seeking him in every situation. Even when that means missing out on something. But mostly, it is about others being able to look at my life and see that God is at the center and that he does make a difference. It is about being willing to count the cost and accept the cost. I want my life to be totally oriented on God, whenever and however he leads.

I guess I want to "like that holiness stuff." I want to be a disciple. And my prayer is that ultimately that will help those around me also be disciples, who help those around them be disciples.

Father forgive me when I don't want your holiness. Forgive me when the earthliness and humanness of my day cause me to ignore your call to be godly. Help me to seek you first. Help me to be a disciple willing to count the cost. Help me to then influence and encourage others to be your disciples as well. Let me be the center of a spiral of disciples who make disciples who make disciples. Help me be part of loving your people and changing my world for your sake and glory. Amen.


photo taken at Newstead Abbey, April 2014, please do not copy

Left in the Wake

I saw a "joke" this week that went something along the lines of "it's been a good week--I made it to Friday, haven't needed bail money and didn't need to hide any bodies." We all laugh because we have had weeks of just hanging on and not letting our emotions fly--much.  Humour strikes a chord because it hits close to home. Maybe too close to home.


I got to wondering--at the end of that kind of week have we(I) really not left anything to hide?  Have any of my words wounded or slayed those around me, most often my children, leaving souls dying in the wake?  Jesus said,

“You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’  But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell."
Matthew 5:21-22

How easy is it by word and action to show our contempt for others, or to make them feel or look like a fool, all for the sake of being right? Leaving souls in the wake of frustration or anger?


Or maybe it is my indifference that leaves the figurative bodies to hide. I am not necessarily speaking of the large-scale issues of our days that can leave us bewildered and unsure of how to help. Those issues can and do great harm, but deserve a more fitting discussion.  No, I'm talking about the local issues that I may not even notice. The homeless man I walk by without even seeing. The lonely neighbour with whom I don't stop and have a short chat, who is desperate for someone to say hello. The hurting teenager that doesn't seem to have anyone to notice she is slipping into depression or harmful behaviour that I could invest some of my time in getting to know. The mom on her own who needs to hear me say that I don't have it all together but I trust Jesus to help me cope, but I don't say it. There is a wake of hurting people left in my hurried life and indifference. And I am too numb to see it?

 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’“They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’  Matthew 25:42-44 

My small group has been studying Jerry Bridge's book Respectable Sins. One of his premises is that the basis of many of the sins that we justify in our lives (impatience, sinful words, anger, jealousy) are not based in pride but in ungodliness. He defines ungodliness as "living one's everyday life with little or no thought of God, or God's will, or of God's glory, or of one's dependence on God." (p54) How guilty I am of this! I go through my day, with its ups and its downs, and work to solve all my problems in my own strength and ability. It is not that I don't think that God cares or is capable of involving himself in my daily life--I just forget. I forget to involve him. I forget to ask him to step in. I forget to talk to him before I speak sharply words I'll later regret. I forget to see the world as he sees it instead of through my busy tunnel vision. I forget.

I no longer laugh at the joke. I know that there are 'bodies' left behind by my words and deeds. They don't need to be 'hid' but they need to be restored. I need to apologise, and repent of angry words. I need to notice needs. I need to allow God's godliness to direct me. I don't want to be indifferent to the power a small word or deed can hold.

Father forgive me. I forget you. I forget my dependence on you. I forget to give you glory for the things in my life. I take control. And when I take control, I mess things up. I say harsh words that hurt the people I love. I miss opportunities to share you with hurting people. I leave souls maimed behind me and don't even notice. Help me notice. Help me apologize. Forgive my indifference. Amen.

photo uploaded from www.morguefile.com in 2011. Attributed to senaca77