the weary world rejoices

I'm a little addicted to Pinterest, and the only way I can rationalize it is that I actually do go back and try recipes or make crafts (at least some of them). This Christmas, inspired by a posting on Pinterest (I have no idea how to give proper credit to the original poster/creator, but know that a much more original and creative person than I am was the first to make something like this), I painted a canvas to rest behind our nativity scene.

We live, today, in a weary world. I probably don't need to detail the reasons why our world is tired, aching, troubled. My petty troubles pale in comparison to shooting rampages or issues of poverty, hunger, sexual exploitation, or any other number of sickening truths about our society. Does it ever seem that God is silent? Even though I believe in Jesus with my whole heart, there are moments when I wonder what is God doing? How can this happen? Where is he?

Go back 2,000 years and not much has changed. The world had forgotten God, the prophets had ceased speaking, ceased calling people back to faith. Silence. Pain. Trouble.

But it was into this world that Jesus was born. And there was much cause for rejoicing. God was not silent, he had not forgotten his people, his plan had been in motion all along, and now, finally it was time for the Prince of Peace to enter the scene.

The weary world rejoices!

I think that at it's heart, the celebration of Christmas must be about Jesus stepping into the darkness of our lives.

He steps into the hard places, he enters the loneliness, the injustice, the pain, and he says "Here I am."

This has hit me even more powerfully after the events in Connecticut. It is only because of Jesus entering in, Emmanuel, God with us, that I can have hope. This Christmas, I want so much to teach my children that this season is about remembering and celebrating that we do not need to remain in the weary world without a Shepherd to guide us.

He came, and the world rejoiced.

He comes to you still, and still the world has cause to celebrate.

a different kind of worship

So, it's been awhile. :) Our son Monkey arrived at the end of August, and we're in the midst of the transition.

Beautiful. Joyful. Precious.

Heart-wrenching. Painstaking. Hard.

You know how when you talk with people, and they tell you something is hard, but you just don't really know, do you?

As I was sitting on the couch yesterday, nursing a baby who was having trouble settling into the rhythm and cradling a crying toddler (because "mommy, pick me up!" is an impossibility when one has a baby on the breast), God brought these words to mind and I will cling to them:

This is a different kind of worship. A different kind of service.

There is nothing quite like standing in our church, raising my hands in worship; the beautiful truths of Scripture flowing from my lips in song, while my daughter nestles her head against my shoulder, or my infant son sleeps soundly in my arms.

How about standing in the hallway outside my daughter's bedroom, breathing deeply to control my impatience with her whining, while the baby cries out from the next room? The fruit of the Spirit is... Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Gentleness. Self-control.

What about the creative play on the floor? The glue sticks bought for more craft projects? The clumpy and unevenly spread peanut butter and jelly sandwich that your 2 1/2 year old wants to make "all by myself" that would get made oh-so-much-faster if mommy wrestled the table knife away?

Whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto Jesus.

There is holiness in this work.

This is worship. This is service. Broken and poured out, again and again, all day long, for two precious little kiddos.

God's household

A friend gave me a daily devotional a couple months back, and I recently picked it up and have been loving the beautiful words and daily Scripture readings. This verse really spoke to me this week:

Psalm 27:4 The Message

I'm asking God for one thing,
only one thing:
To live with him in his house
my whole life long.
I'll contemplate his beauty;
I'll study at his feet.

The imagery of living with God in His house is so poetic. Can you picture it? Coming downstairs in the morning to see God sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of orange juice, gathering around a HUGE rich wooden table laden with good things to eat, each member pitching in to help with the household chores. Idyllic, peaceful, harmonious... in today's near 100 degree heat and being 37 weeks pregnant, it seems pretty perfect.

Now. I'm well aware this is probably not what the psalmist had in mind when penning this psalm. Written in the Jewish context, this likely was a reference to the Temple, where God's people gathered to worship Him. Today, the church usually reads this verse as an encouragement to desire to remain in God's presence, despite our physical location of being at work, home, church, wherever. But go with me a minute.

In a household, there are rules (guidelines, whatever you want to call them). Some spoken, some not. We abide with other members of the household, each playing a role, doing our part. In our humanity, it's messy. We don't always get it right. Actually ,we often get it wrong. But there is a certain way of doing things, of approaching things, that is expected. There is a culture to our home.

As I consider my longing to live with God in His house, am I being mindful of His rules? His guidelines, the "culture" of that household? Isn't this what I mean when I say I am trying to live a Christian life - abide by His precepts, His desires for me, His ways and purposes? It's not so different from being part of a household. The household (body) of Christ.

One of the pieces to being part of God's household is looking at life and my circumstances with a God-perspective. A few months back I took part in a women's Bible study, and one of the huge things that really convicted me was the necessity of looking at the world with God tinted lenses. Using His Truth to filter our experiences through. I am not talking about evaluating science through a biblical worldview. This is not the age-old-I'm-so-done-with-it-God-did-it-somehow-and-who-cares-how argument of creation versus evolution. I am talking about the day in day out grit of life. When we face things that are hard, even devastating and crushing, we need to see it through God's Truth. And when we face things that are beautiful and rich and satisfying, we still need to see it through God's Truth.

Welcoming a new baby into a home while my husband seeks a new job to better support his family, while receiving rejection letter after rejection letter, all the while pretty much hating his current workplace? Uncertain of how my own maternity leave with end, seeing roadblocks instead of options? I feel pretty desperate some days. But I cling to the hope that with God tinted lenses, this is an opportunity for us to see Him provide in His ways, His timing, for His purposes. He is GOOD. HE IS ALWAYS GOOD. Does this mean it will work out like we expect and hope? No. But He is good.

The death of a beloved Grandpa, father, father-in-law? Terrible. Maybe even with God tinted lenses it is terrible, after all, we weren't really created to endure death, death is the result of the fall. But with God-tinted lenses, it has also been an opportunity to love and grow closer to a Grandma, mother, mother-in-law. It has been an opportunity to serve, and be served, by a lovely woman who has much to teach and share.

How about something wildly thrilling, like the beauty of good friends and community? A chance for us to enjoy good company? Yes, absolutely. But with God-tinted lenses, it's also a chance to invite others who need this same fellowship, who need people to live life with them, who don't have people to call on.

Too bad I can't buy God-tinted lenses at the store. It's hard. I struggle to orient myself correctly to view the minutes and hours of my day with this in mind. It's a daily prayer, to wake up remembering that I am a member of God's household, living in His home, abiding in His ways.

Studying at His feet.

a glimpse of the Father's heart

Luke 15: 20-24

The younger son got up and started back to his father. But when he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt sorry for him. He ran to his son and hugged and kissed him. The son said, “Father, I have sinned against God in heaven and against you. I am no longer good enough to be called your son.” But his father said to the servants, “Hurry and bring the best clothes and put them on him. Give him a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. Get the best calf and prepare it, so we can eat and celebrate. This son of mine was dead, but has now come back to life. He was lost and has now been found.”

And they began to celebrate.

This afternoon I stood in the driveway and waved good-bye to my 2 1/2 year old and husband. A camping trip was just not something this 35 weeks pregnant mommy could do, so it's a daddy-daughter weekend trip, with me joining just for the day on Saturday. I haven't had a weekend to myself like this in at least 3 years, and while I've been anticipating the freedom, and leisure, the sleeping in (oh, the sleeping in!), my heart caught in my throat as I watched them drive away, praying safety and protection, joy and good memories over them.

I missed the bright presence of my daughter almost immediately, and was glad to have things I wanted to do that took me out of the house for the first part of the day. It's too big and empty without them here, something is so obviously missing.

How must the Father's heart break when His children turn away?

No wonder the father in Luke 15 saw his lost son returning home, even while he was still a long way off. He'd never stopped waiting, hoping, praying, anticipating the joyous return of his child.

Whether we wander for years or our hearts stray only momentarily, God the Father is just waiting to celebrate our return to His embrace.

when God shows up

If you've been in church for any number of years, I imagine you've experienced some Sunday worship services that send your heart soaring with love and thankfulness. I also imagine that you have sat through plenty of services where instead of focusing on the words of the songs, the depth of the sermon, you're planning the schedule for the week, worrying over various big or small life circumstances, or, let's be honest, catching up on facebook. Don't deny it - I've been there.

Today was one of those Sundays where my mind was prone to wandering. I have a very (stress, very) amateur musical background, and I know just enough about worship, church practices, and theology to make me dangerously critical when I get in that mood. I'm not proud of it. It is just is. I try hard to bury it, but sometimes it creeps out.

We attend a small church. Most of the time, I love that. We don't have a lot of show, if you know what I mean. No fancy lights, no huge worship band, nothing that shouts of trying to create an emotional high that ushers people into God's presence. I am an occasional vocalist for our worship team, and while we have some amazing and talented musicians, we're pretty humble.

Whatever place I was in this morning did not lead me to embrace the humility of our little band of Jesus followers.

But you know what? God showed up.

In the midst of the congregation's hesitant (read - less than enthusiastic) response to the singing, a few sort of awkward moments, there was a stirring of hearts, a swelling of voices raised to the King. A testimony was shared, a young man moved to share about something God was doing in his life. Our pastor spontaneously adapted sermon plans and prayer times to make room for God's work. It was that thing that you can only describe as the sense that God was moving. He was there, in our midst. The Spirit of God descending on people who had gathered to declare their love and praise to Him. I found myself experiencing the grace of those moments, laid bare a bit for my judgment and hard-heartedness.

Micah 6:8 is fast becoming a favorite verse, as it crops up here and there: "He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"

He does not require a fancy church service to draw people to Him. He does not require loud worship. He does not require a charismatic sermon filled with pithy one-liners.

He requires a people with hearts lifted to Him, ready to anticipate His movement in their lives and in the world. Ready to respond with love and grace.

freedom

Ironically, ever since I sent that email to my girlfriends who have also embarked in the 7 experiment, there has been huge relief flooding over me. And, even more ironically, the relief led to an incredibly productive weekend, including a thorough examination of the possessions in our home and a resulting pile of boxes to sell at our church garage sale benefiting an orphanage in Haiti. Before sending that email, I was a mess of guilt for "not doing enough". I was the kind of mess that brings confusion to the beautiful assurance of Matthew 11:28-30: If you are tired from carrying heavy burdens, come to me and I will give you rest. Take the yoke I give you. Put it on your shoulders and learn from me. I am gentle and humble, and you will find rest. This yoke is easy to bear, and this burden is light.

My legalistic, perfectionist self has a hard time letting go of the letter of the law sometimes. The list of shoulds and supposed tos is too tempting; a recipe for success to follow as I meander through life. But I cling to it too closely. With 7, I was expecting myself to tackle the project the way the author of the book did - which was wonderful and impacting for her. But for me in this season? It was draining me of any energy I had to really ponder the spirit of simplifying life in such a way that Jesus can be magnified. As a wonderful friend reminded me, none of it was really ever about 7, but about living together, learning, and loving Jesus more.

That I can do, in this and every season.

a letter to my 7 sojourners

Girls,

The texts tonight regarding possessions month were the final straw in my conviction to send this email. We’ve all been quiet these past weeks and there has been a lot going on. On my end, after a lot of prayer and thought about this, I think I need to admit that this is just not the season for me to devote myself to 7. I suppose this email is simply confession time. God has used these books and conversations with all of you in numerous ways and I am grateful to have heard His voice and to have been challenged in some good good good ways. I’m still processing and praying about so much and I’m excited at how God is moving in my heart. I can tell I will not be the same in my identity in Christ, how I view the purpose of church, or the purpose of Jesus followers in the world. As one of you so wisely said, now that these things have been revealed to me, it would be pure disobedience to NOT act and continue seeking what follow through looks like. I still have a list of books I want to read, and I genuinely want to continuing exploring and praying through these ideas. And yes, praying about my actions and what to DO with all of it. I’m feeling all out of sorts about where I fit in God’s work right now, especially given this season of life, but it’s a good thing, and I know He will lead and provide ways for me to love people and serve Him. I’m committed to keep blogging and thinking and praying and NOT FORGETTING.

At the same time (warning, this may sound like the whiny pity-party part), I am 7 weeks away from a gigantic family transition, and feeling emotionally thin and burdened by an all out messy house, a not-yet-put-together nursery, tasks we’ve committed to help my mother-in-law with this summer, pulling together my maternity leave plans while still desperately praying I will be able to quit, supporting my husband in his roller coaster job search and also the restructure in his current workplace, remaining connected with friends, family, neighbors and random acquaintances and responding to needs that God puts in front of me – which He has, which is awesome!… I’m already (perhaps selfishly) feeling broken and poured out in these things. All while trying to remember that God promises provision and really wanting to trust Him and thank Him for the enormous blessings in my life. I have much to be abundantly grateful for. But all of this emotional upheaval and the spiritual rigor of clinging to trust is about as much as I can handle right now; I just don’t have the bandwidth to add in going to great lengths to clear out my house or reduce waste in my life. I suppose the media fast will be forced on me considering a baby will be arriving soon. And maybe the Sabbath month will work in some capacity, considering I’ll be up in the middle of the night anyway. J I just don’t have it in me to make huge accommodations and start (more) big projects.

I will faithfully continue to pray for each of you, and would love to still hear how God is working through you in this adventure of 7. And I do want to help with the garage sale (when is it?), and contribute to other things that may emerge (community garden?). So please keep me posted so I know how to pray and share your funny stories about finding friend’s wedding invitations from 10 years ago stacked in boxes in your closets. J

And, as you read this nutty email, if God moves you to call me out and challenge me to keep going, I promise to be open to listening. The last thing I want to do is let myself off the hook and make excuses for why I can’t be some radical girl who gives away 7 items each day for a month. I hate thinking I am quitting. I invite the accountability if God so moves your heart. Maybe this is just a surge of hormones these past weeks. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a little crazy feeling.  

Your crazy friend (and thank you if you read all the way to the end of this),

Sara

there is a season

I've made a mental note that grand adventures like 7 are probably not ideal ventures to undertake when you are pregnant, praying through future job and childcare arrangements, and also have a little child (or more) running around your home. Not that this has been impossible... just hard to stick to. Or maybe I am just easily distracted.

Clothing month came and went, and while there were days I hated the few shirts I had to select from, this month was really not that different from being pregnant and have a limited wardrobe anyway. In many ways, I entered the month already feeling the convictions of placing too much importance on appearance (not that I don't still struggle with it and bow to the temptation of retail therapy from time to time). At the same time, this season of life for us doesn't lend itself to having a gigantic clothing selection with designer labels. Frankly, I haven't stepped foot in an Ann Taylor or Nordstrom for many many months. I shop at Target a lot, where I can also pick up a new shirt, shampoo, some organizing bins, and dog food without having to make multiple trips (which require the loading and unloading of a toddler from the car each time). We're already in a season of trying to simplify and reduce, for the sake of sanity.

I did read a really interesting article that Jen Hatmaker (author of 7) posted on facebook: The Afterlife of Cheap Clothes. It made me think twice about just what to do. Clearly simply cleaning out my clothes closet of the things I don't really need and dumping the pile at Goodwill is not necessarily the automatic answer. They have an excess already, too. So instead, I've been thinking more specifically about who I can give these items to. For example, I think we're at a place where we can give away all the baby girl clothes our daughter has outgrown. Instead of Goodwill, I think I'll contact the Pregnancy Resource Center and see if they have need, or even ask around amongst my friends to see if they know of anything expecting a baby girl who might want some almost good as new hand me downs.

So that's clothes.

July is possessions, which is one I had eagerly anticipated and still am hopeful for. But, two back to back out of town weekends, plus the holiday, plus, well, life, and my hands and feet are still not yet in step with my heart in this area. My goal had been to go through our house looking for the items that truly are excessive. Games we never play. Extra toiletry bags for travel. Toys we've outgrown and won't need for number 2. Books I'll never really read again. That mango cutter that sure is a neat idea but never seems to work correctly for me (the 1 or 2 times a year I actually buy a mango and remember I have the mango cutter). I also had the idea of gathering the items and selling them in a garage sale, with the intent of donating the profit. That has actually evolved into what will likely be a church-wide garage sale, with the proceeds going to the orphanage in Haiti that I served at along with others from my church in the fall of 2011.

Writing this all down, it sounds just as tiring and uninspired as I currently feel. I suppose some days and weeks are like that, though, and truly, if the things I've been thinking and praying about are a movement of God in my life, I suppose I should expect some discouragement and wind-sucked-from-my-sails feelings. Wherever God is moving, isn't the Enemy taking special note? I've never been one to really go there in my interpretation of events and my feelings, but the more my eyes are opened to the spiritual truths behind every day life, the more I see how the Enemy does not want truth spoken, realized, lived. Guess I need to polish my armor a little bit (Ephesians 6), and pray for endurance.

Wouldn't you know it, this was the reading in Psalms for today's Bible reading:

Psalm 143:7-8
Answer me quickly, O Lord!
My spirit fails!
Hide not your face from me,
lest I be like those who go down to the pit.Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love,
for in you I trust.
Make me know the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.

Amen.

being broken and poured out

I have thoughts whirling around my head and I know I need to write them out, but I am not sure where to start.

These past few weeks, I've been feeling heavy and burdened by my own selfishness and inward focus. I keep thinking, how is it that I have been a Christian for 16 years and am only now realizing some things that seem so basic and central to the Christian faith? I feel like a child in my faith, when I've spent years attending church, studying the Bible in both church and academic settings, reading theology and books on Christian living. How is it that I'm only now coming face to face with the concept of living my life in a missional way for Jesus?

I am knee deep in repentance. Forgive me, Jesus. I've missed so many opportunities to love people in Jesus name, to go out into my own neighborhood as a missionary to my community. It's not that I think I've lived in a way that denies my faith, but I've been pursuing growth in Christ while missing the mark.

Acts 11 describes a scene from the early church, where believers in Antioch learned that a devastating famine was coming. The church in Antioch decided they should send whatever help they could to their brothers and sisters.

Do I do this? When I hear of terrible things happening across the globe, across the nation, across my city, my neighborhood, do I drop everything and give of myself, my resources, my time?

Yes and no.

It was just prior to these verses, that we read that it was in Antioch that the Lord's followers were first called Christians. The word Christian means "little Christ". I'd like to know, who coined the term? Was it a follower of Jesus? Someone outside the little church, looking in? Either way, these people were living in such a way that people thought their way of life was worthy of being called "little Christ."

Would my way of life earn the same respect? Would the church throughout America?

We're missing something. I'm missing something.

As if reading Jen Hatmaker's book, 7, didn't mess with me enough, I just finished the prequel, Interrupted. It's all still sinking in. One of the things that has really struck me is her discussion of the Passover as described in the gospels (Luke 22, for example). Hatmaker challenges us to rethink what Jesus meant when he said "Do this, in remembrance of me." Most believers read this scene and incorporate the sacrament of communion into their Christian practices. The bread is Jesus' body, broken for us. The wine is Jesus' blood, poured out for us. Eat the bread, drink the juice, in remembrance of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross. There is a lot of meaning in this ritual, and God has used this teaching to grow my faith in Him.

Hatmaker suggests there is more to draw from this. That when Jesus said "do this" he wasn't merely talking about eating the bread and drinking the wine, but that he was telling his disciples to go out into the world in such a way as to be broken for others, as Jesus was broken for us. To pour themselves out for people, as Jesus poured himself out for us.

That's a whole different spin on the Passover meal that I have never heard before. But so rich and deep in meaning.

And yet in just a few short weeks, we'll be welcoming our 2nd child into our home, circling back around to the newborn stage once again, when it seems like life has just finally settled into a somewhat predictable routine since before having kids. Really, God? Is this really the time to bring conviction to my heart about the need to be more engaged in my community and service toward my neighbors? Is this really the time when you are challenging me to be broken for others, to pour myself out? I remember all too well the first year with our daughter, the feelings of having nothing left to give at the end of the day (heck, by mid-day I was often drained and exhausted). What does all of this look like for a mom with two children under the age of 3, uncertain of how work situations and childcare will play out in the next few months? I know part of the answer may be that God is calling us moms to be broken and poured out for our children, and yes, I believe there is truth here. But I also don't want to use that as an excuse to avoid lifting my eyes higher to the needs beyond my own family.

I can only wonder that God is preparing my heart. Giving me new eyes to begin to see opportunities. Readying me to be in a place of wanting to say Yes, God when I feel that quickening in my spirit that tells me He is doing something and I better be available for Him to use.

Here's my final thought for now. Several good friends are also walking this journey with me, seeking God with fresh eyes, challenging themselves with considering new ways of Christian living. And yes, still pursuing the crazy fasts (still currently in clothing month, by the way, and disliking my 7 items more and more each day - more thoughts here later). As one lovely friend put it, now that God has shown us these truths, we can't just go back to the old patterns we've been used to. If God is leading me toward something new, I can't just ignore it, that would be direct disobedience. Ouch.  

loving my neighbor

When we bought our home several years ago, I was immersed in seminary culture, surrounded by people who were pretty much scraping by. Seminary students are not known for living with abundance. I felt guilty at the extravagance of owning our own home, and I prayed that God would give us opportunities to share what He'd given us with others.

In the years since, we've had many gatherings; parties, holiday dinners, barbecues, small group meetings, a high school girls Bible study, play dates, talks with friends over coffee, house guests. We have been able to open our home, and I've loved these moments. Consider my prayers answered.

Except that...we live next door to a widow. Several years ago, a single mom moved in to the house behind us. I am fairly certain the couple across from us are in the military, with the husband frequently deployed. I am positive there are other difficulties represented in other households on our street. But I don't know the names of most of my neighbors. I can probably count the number of significant conversations (i.e. more than a "hi, how are you" at the mailbox) I have had with these people on one hand. My natural tendency is to allow others to approach me, and in the absence of this initiative, I don't usually go out of my way to leap the chasm that busy lives and the fear of intrusion or rejection create.

But let's be honest, the bottom line is that my comfort zone is so very very small.

This all hit home this past month after I met a family at our neighborhood park. After learning they have a young toddler and newborn twins (Lord, have mercy), I found myself offering to bring them a meal. Complete strangers! The words were out of my mouth before I could think, and then it was too late. This was new territory. Scary territory, I'm openly ashamed to admit.

I agonized over it. I knew without a doubt I had to follow through. So about a week later I got up enough nerve (and let's face it, the Spirit was working on me), and sent a text. A few texts back and forth working around scheduling, and plans were still in process. And then one morning at the library, I look up and see the dad standing unavoidably across from me in the children's section. What the heck! It sealed the deal, and we set up a date. Papa Murphy's pizza, bagged salad, and store bought cookies delivered to this family for a hassle free dinner during a chaotic and exhausting season of life. (I did debate a home cooked meal, which is obviously superior to even Trader Joe's cookies, but as I told the couple when I delivered the meal, "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable with some strange woman forcing weird food on you." I'm so neurotic).

Yay, me. Yet I felt strangely unsettled about what had been a delightful encounter. As I prayed, it hit me, these people are not really the "least of these" that Jesus commands me to care for. Honestly, they are just like me. I know it blessed them. I know it was generous and kind and good, and I believe it was a God-thing. And I believe it pleased God that I was responsive to the prompting He'd given me to reach out. But that fact that this had scared me, felt uncomfortable? Jesus has so far to go in convicting me of the need to love my neighbors, to love the least of these. If this was awkward, no wonder I struggle so much to interact with those who truly are "different" from me - the homeless, the teen moms, the poor. In graduate school I wrote some pretty nice papers about every person being made in God's image and the necessity of seeing the humanity and beauty in each living soul, regardless of economic status, age, ethnicity, etc. I talk about wanting to love people in radical ways, but I don't think I have much of a concept as to what that means. I barely even know my widowed neighbor, let alone the homeless population in our city. It's painful to see the hypocrisy in myself and to recognize the snobbery I've unknowingly harbored.

It's also freeing.

Jesus, give me eyes to see the real needs of people and make it clear where I can be a blessing. Tear down barriers that separate me from truly loving those who live such different lives than I do. Make it obvious, Jesus, because I am learning that I can be pretty blind.

today i am pondering...

We make our own decisions, but the Lord alone determines what happens (Proverbs 16:33, CEV).

all is well, child

Every night before I go to bed, I check on my daughter. With the door slightly ajar, light pouring in from the hallway, I look at her lovely 2 year old form, sprawled across her big girl bed, arms often folded on either side of her head, bent out at angles. Her face is so peaceful and perfect. I know I'm the mom, but really? You never saw a more precious thing. I straighten her covers, make sure she's not too hot or cold, kiss her forehead gently. I whisper "I love you, sweetheart," smooth her hair back from her face. "All is well, my little girl."

That last part made it into my routine more recently. We're dealing with more whining and crying these days; I never knew a little one could be so persistent in her requests - well, demands. We still feel like brand new parents, dealing with each new challenge as the wave of her development crests and crashes into us. My patience is being tested. How many times can the word no be uttered!? More often than I'd like to admit, my patience is pushed beyond its limits, and I respond with a word spoken just a bit too harshly. A sharp tone that she's never had much cause to hear before. And even though I catch myself and go to her and say I'm sorry for getting frustrated, it leaves me feeling guilty.

My point is, we've reached a stage where Bumble Bee's world does not always go as she wants. Disappointment, confusion and frustration have entered her days. Sometimes, even hurt. Yes, we believe we're making the best choices for her. But from her little two year old vantage point, she's discovering a semblance of injustice, hardship. And so I lean over her little self, whisper loving words that despite the events of the day which may have been challenging, all is well. She is loved. We care for her. We are looking out for her.

And it hit me, does God lean over my bedside at night and whisper the same words?

I face challenges, discomfort, uncertainty, difficulty. I feel pain, sometimes for very good reasons. I see injustice, I hurt for myself and others. And too often, I whine and fight and cry that things aren't fair, things aren't going the way I want. Maybe sometimes God is grieving with me. Perhaps there are times when I am close to the heart of God and I hurt for the very things that He hurts for. Other times, I am certain He is laughing at my stubbornness, my unwillingness to let go of my insistent petitions and relax into His good plans.

God in His goodness is sovereign and His purposes will prevail. He is trustworthy. He is faithful. He is powerful, more powerful than the broken forces at work on the earth. He is merciful and just. And so despite the events of my day, the things I see and experience which cause me strife, all is well. Does He stroke my hair at night and assure me of this beautiful truth?

All is well, child.

month two: clothing

June is the month of clothing. Or, lack thereof. Well, not exactly. I won't be going completely without, but I am going to follow Jen Hatmaker's example in 7, and choose 7 articles of clothing to wear during the month of June. Undergarments don't count, and shoes count as one item. But I did scale it down to three pairs of shoes - work shoes, tennis shoes, and flip flops. My other 6 items are 2 shirts, a sweater, jeans, a skirt, and a pair of black flowy pants that can be dressed up or down. No accessories, no jewelry. No coat.

Again, being pregnant I feel like this month is a little different for me than it would be were I not pregnant. I say that because besides what I just listed, there aren't more than 5-10 other articles of clothing that I own right now that actually fit me. Being pregnant for me is a little like being in perpetual 7 clothes month - constantly aware of how much stock I place in my appearance and how much I feel pressured to look good so that others will like me, not think badly of me, think I am worth talking to, etc. Ugh, sometimes being a woman in America sucks big time! And I wish I could say that my need to look nice is less so within the church than it is without. But unfortunately that is not the case.

A couple years ago, when I was still on staff with our church youth group, I was having a conversation with an adult co-worker, also in youth ministry at her own church, about the desire to be liked by high school students. We were commiserating about the need to dress the part and look the part - you know, cool, trendy, someone a high school student would be drawn to.

I'm not sure why that conversation has continued to stick with me. Suddenly, it rings so very false. I'm no longer doing youth staff, but if I were, would I really want students to look up to me because I wear nice clothes and know the cool things to say to kids now-a-days (oh, I feel so old right now even typing this!). No. I don't. I don't even want students to look up to me. I want them to see Jesus. Isaiah 53 describes Jesus as a man who had no physical beauty to draw people to him, nothing in his appearance that made him attractive. He was not the dark skinned man with wavy black brown hair and rugged features and a shapely physique (sorry, Jesus, is that kosher to discuss your potential attractiveness as a man?), that we might want for the hero of a story. So why do I feel the need to be the female equivalent? Do I want someone to be attracted to me at any level because I'm gorgeous and wear the latest styles? But I was sitting there with my friend, who loves Jesus, and agreeing that this is part of youth leadership. Huh.

Okay, Jesus, here we go. Speak into whatever space is created by simplifying my clothing choices and reducing my life in this area.

food takeaways

Month one: concluded. Here are my takeaways, in no particular order:

• I have a very minimal tolerance for spiritual disciplines, particularly if they involve a level of discomfort. The idea of putting myself in an uncomfortable situation, no matter how small, is totally foreign to me. This is not good. I know there is a balance between the peace and rest Jesus promises us when we choose to follow him, and the very real and intentional acts of obedience we should begin to engage in out of love for Jesus and a desire to live like him. I'm just not sure where that balance is yet. Legalism has a strong pull for people like me, Type-A, wanting a clear checklist. I know life in Christ isn't like that. But it can't all be about me and what makes me content either.
• Isaiah 58. I'm not sure where to begin with the things that grabbed me about this passage. True, heartfelt worship is seen in how we love God and love other people in totally real, Spirit-led, radical ways. Fasting or other disciplines have a place - one that I need to figure out more - but our worship should not stop here. It's what God does when we deny ourselves and look for more of him in our lives that leads to the real worship he desires from us.
• At a totally non-spiritual level, I really love sweets. This is probably a good spot to mention (in case any strangers who don't know me stumble onto this blog), I am not a gluttonous over eater. I eat a pretty balanced diet, maintain an average weight, and love to get outside for a good hike or even a run (when I am not pregnant). But I do really love sweets, particularly ice cream. 
• I won't do anyone any good if I just get down on myself for the fact that I'm undisciplined. His mercies are new every morning. Bring on month two, let's give this another go.
• We need one another. I am blessed and grateful for the many people in my life who love Jesus and are seeking him with passion. I am encouraged by the ways God is at work in others lives and I need to hear these testimonies, because sometimes, it's just good to know that we're all walking the same journey, each of us in a little different way. Community is not to be taken lightly.

My continued prayer in this 7 adventure is that God would use this journey to make me more like Jesus - open to following him in little and big ways, whatever his Spirit leads me to do. Two experiences this month stay with me: (1) a simple question to the women next to me in the bathroom at Fred Meyer who had obviously been crying - "are you alright? is there anything I can do?" and (2) an offer to bring a meal to a stranger I met at the neighborhood park, who is dealing with a challenging season of life and we happened to connect. These things stand out to me because a couple months ago, I don't think I would have done either of these things. And, I don't think I would have been aware of the Spirit's prompting to open my mouth and say the words that were on my heart. I'm no hero and neither of these actions changed any one's life. I'm not bragging. I'm giving God credit for beginning to open my heart a little bigger so that my eyes are tuned to see the needs of people around me. Come, Lord Jesus.

hello, my name is sara, and I am a cheater

I am a big cheater when it comes to this fasting for a month thing. I never thought I would be so bad at giving up little things like sugar or coffee! Fasting from fast food hasn't been that hard, except for the weekend we were out of town and I ate at Burger Bar. Even avoiding the frozen food section hasn't been difficult - although I don't know that this has helped me simply  my meal planning either. I commend my girlfriends who are going to much greater extremes to live simply in the area of food this month. A chocolate chip cookie here, a cup of half caffeinated coffee there. Yup, a big, fat cheater. There's something to be said for trying not to be legalistic about this. And I've said often in my head that I don't want to be so focused on the actions I am taking that I am missing the heart of what this is about (sacrifice, satisfaction in Christ). But I can't help feel like I'm missing the mark. Not in a "I'm not good enough" kind of way (although that's true, too), but what am I supposed to be getting from all this?

Our family is in a bit of a transition this year. Baby number 2 is on his way (we're delighted), and we're facing some decisions about job changes, potential reduction to a 1 income household as opposed to the 1 1/2 income we currently enjoy, child care arrangements, maybe even a move is in our future. We're talking about cutting our monthly expenses, health insurance needs, how to decorate the baby's room... my head feels about to explode many days. I'm a doer, I work to get things done. I take action. But lately I have felt paralyzed and trapped in an avoidance mindset. I'm not even completely sure how this relates to cutting out sugar. Maybe because I am in a place where I am periodically gripped by something close to panic and ideas spin through my head about myself, my life, my wants. And yet I am trying to use this reduction in food to deny myself, focus on what God is saying to me and rise above the things of this world. But then the here and now stuff needs to be dealt with, too. Where is the balance?

I told you this blog would hold no great theological insight or fancy shmancy answers. Today, I'm a mess. But at least I am a Jesus-loving mess. Or I am trying to be.

denying self

This book has messed with my head. Even though I am supposed to be focusing on food this month, simplifying in that area, I keep thinking about buying local, giving away things I don't really need, gifting a homeless person with a bag full of food, buying clothes made in places where workers receive a fair wage, etc. etc. etc (from the other chapters in the book). Since I finished the book, I'm realizing it's a lot to take in all at once. I find myself speaking passionately about a topic (apologies to my husband who has to listen to the rambling pre-formed thoughts), even while I have little to no clue about what any of it means for my own every day life. Jesus, please don't let me off the hook without responding in real, tangible ways! I want to put feet to the stirrings I feel, but I'm not sure what that looks like.

As far as the food month is going, I'm terrible at this. For the most part, I have stuck with my list of no's (do yogurt covered raisins count as "candy"?), but I want something sugary so badly my mouth waters when I think about it. I realize I depend on a treat a lot more than I ever thought. I have a tedious project to focus on at work, I'll get some chocolate. My daughter was especially rowdy and wiggly at bedtime, I deserve an extra large scoop of ice cream. My favorite show is on and it's more fun to watch with a cookie and milk. Food - and in my case right now, sugar - is constantly on my mind. How can I say I come even sort of close to denying myself in any kind of spiritual sense, when I struggle so much to just deny myself sugar?

My big slip up came this past weekend. We had a long road trip to visit my parents, so right away, my no fast food rule was called in to question. Packing snacks and a lunch just sounded... bleh. I decided a breakfast sandwich from Starbucks and veggie delite from Subway don't count as fast food. I did resist the temptation of a half calf caramel machiatto. So I feel okay about the drive up. However, on the way home, my daughter announced it was time for a bathroom stop right about the time I was starting to look for a Subway. Luckily, there is a Subway at pretty much every exit along the 4 hour drive between our house and my parent's house, so the next exit I saw the familiar sign. I drove down the street, looking hard. And passed Burger Bar. One of those mom and pop shops where there's a crowd outside and you can just tell it's delicious. I kept driving, noting it but eyes still peeled for Subway. The kiddo was saying insistently she had to go to the bathroom, I was looking for Subway... and nothing. No sign of it. So I chocked it up to the necessity of needing to get to a potty and consoled myself with a really yummy cheeseburger, the fact that I did see them put our hamburger patties on the grill fresh out of the fridge, and the comfort that at least I was supporting the small town local economy. This is not as easy as I thought it would be, and I'm not even going to the extreme that my 7 companions are.

I've thought more than once, why am I doing this? What is the point? I'm not sure I have an answer there yet. But one friend suggested the idea of a prayer focus for the month, so I have a dual prayer focus: every time I notice myself craving one of my no items, I'm going to pray about what God wants to teach me through this, as well as for my husband. I've heard many wise wives say that the best thing we can do for our husbands is pray. I'm terrible at this. If there's something big going on, then I rally, but as far as the day to day lifting him up goes, I just don't often think about it. And he's one of my top favorite people, so that's sort of ridiculous. It's been hitting me lately that God is at work in the hearts and lives of people all around me, including my family members. I'd love to become more intentional about seeking to see how God would want to use me in the work He is doing in my own husband's life. What a revolutionary thought.

the 7 adventure

Several weeks ago a friend told me about a book she was reading called 7, by Jen Hatmaker. The subtitle is: "an experimental mutiny against excess." Over the course of 10 months, Jen engaged in a series of 4 week fasts from clothes, spending, waste, food, possessions, media, and stress, respectively. Each month, she went to the extreme and made some radical life alterations - ate only 7 foods, wore only 7 articles of clothing, gave away 7 items for every day of the month, and so on. The purpose? Her prayer was "Jesus, may there be less of me and my junk and more of You and Your kingdom" (pg. 16).

Intrigued? So was I. So I bought the book. I had it shipped to my work, to avoid paying tax. Several other friends were already reading it, so the anticipation of its arrival was great. I ripped it open in my office, and dove in - work cast aside momentarily. Within the first two pages, I alternately laughed out loud, pondered thoughtfully her words, and was moved to tears.
Seven gals from my church are embarking on our own 7 adventure, starting this month: food. Most of my friends are following Jen's example and selecting 7 food items to eat for the entire month (for example, Jen's foods were chicken, avocado, sweet potato, whole wheat bread, spinach, apples, and eggs. Salt, pepper and olive oil were the only permitted additive ingredients). One friend has chosen to fast by eating only the food of a particular ethnic group she has a heart for. This month will be a little different for me, since I am pregnant and it's probably not wise to restrict my diet to 7 food items, since I am hungry all the time and would like to think I eat well enough to give our little guy a wide variety of nutrients. But I will be fasting in my own way:

- No sugar (unless it's an ingredient in an otherwise healthy food item)
- No prepared food from the refrigerated/frozen/boxed food sections
- No fast food
- Permitted beverages: water, OJ, milk

There are a lot of reasons I was drawn to join my friends in this experiment. I'll be honest and say that one reason is that I love these girls so much and respect them greatly. Wanting to join the fun can't always be a bad thing, right?

But I've been wondering for awhile now what it REALLY looks like in suburban America to follow Jesus. The discomfort with living life as we know it ebbs and flows, and probably most days I'm pretty happy with my little Christian life. But then these thoughts pierce me that surely there's more. I don't even really know what more looks like, but it's that nagging question - am I really living the kind of life that Jesus would want me to live? Am I making the kind of impact for his kingdom that he would want me to make? Too often my life looks pretty much like every other suburbanite, Christian or not. I don't think global long term missions is in my immediate path (I think my husband might have a heart attack if I told him I thought God was calling us overseas). So, then, what? What is my part in God's work? Where is he inviting me to join him in what he is doing in the hearts and lives of those in my immediate sphere of influence? And why does it seem like so often the American church (myself included) is just a little bit too American? Are we blending in so much that the Jesus I love is obscurred?

I've started and stopped this blog a couple times now (see my first and only post, dated September 2011). Perhaps now is a good time to resurrect it. Here's the thing though - this blog is mostly for me. I suppose the fact that I am putting it on the internet might contradict that - as my husband pointed out - but really, I just want to write. Even if no one reads it, I am going to keep writing, at least for now. I think writing keeps me honest, it helps me get my thoughts out of my head where they just circle and get all jumbled. And in the case of 7, I'm hoping writing my experiences out will help to hold me accountable. I don't want to be legalistic about 7, but I do want to stick it out and give God a chance to speak. It all feels a little crazy and who knows, maybe this is just one more bandwagon that the church is starting to jump on. My hope and prayer though is that I would be changed to be more like Jesus. That through this my heart would be brought more in line with God's heart and that I would more and more live with hands open for whatever it is that God has in mind for me and my little family. 

So here we go! Feel free to join me, even if only just to shake your head and smile at the ridiculousness of it all.