On Friday a thief, on Sunday a King. We sang these words this morning and wow, how good they felt! Lent has concluded with the joy of resurrection. I pray that this evening finds you resting in the knowledge that the promise of redemption is possible through the gift of Jesus.
47 days of blogging. When I took on this discipline on Ash Wednesday, I never dreamed that I would fall in love with the process. There were only 2 days in that time period that I struggled to find words. This means two things:
1) I have too many words.
2) I think I need to press into my written voice.
I love speaking. I am beyond blessed that I serve in a community where I am able to use my study and stories to challenge the community through teaching. I find such joy in crafting a message. I love finding unique ways to communicate truth and interest face to face. I really thought that writing would not be as rewarding because you cannot control the inflection and tone. I was wrong.
Time and again during this season, you have encouraged me with your insights. I have no idea who reads these blogs unless you tell me that you do. From the messages and comments, I have been given new insights to your lives and experiences. I have heard from friends that I rarely see. I have been able to share one-on-one with those who have reached out in 'me too' journeys. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Many have asked, "What now?" Easter is here, your lenten commitment to write is over. Will you keep writing? The answer is YES! Seeing that this is no longer a Lenten Longing, I would be honored if you would consider following my new blog The View From The Bathroom Floor. I will not post every day, but I will continue to roll out the honesty and struggle and joy and journey that is my life.
I am also going to begin work on a long time dream to write my story in a book. It is a long range goal, with no due date. I have a weird vision for the layout that weaves together my love of church and recovery and faith and doubt and advocacy and failure. All of these things make me who I am and I love the many roads that converge in my story.
Finally, I ask a favor. Please don't stop emailing and texting me with questions and pushback and love. I can't write into a vacuum and pretend that the words are just words. When I sit down to write, I see faces and stories and friendships. I take the struggles that I see around me and use them as food for insight and growth. None of this is possible without the human interaction and shared experience. When I think about the opportunities that I have been given to live out this journey of gift development, none if it would be possible without the encouragement and support of people who have said, GO! Thank you for being my people.
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Saturday, April 15, 2017
The Journey of Holy Week: Saturday
Because I have spent much of my adult life involved in planning Easter Sunday events at a church, Saturday has always been a day of tension. I know that we are still in the darkness of Friday, yet there is work to do to prepare for the celebration to come. Again, today, I split this tension.
I woke up this morning and intentionally slowed my thoughts. I recalled (in a pre-coffee haze) the pain that we walked though last night. I chose to hold on to Friday for as long as I could. Then I watched a giraffe be born and sat with my own 11 year-old giraffe and giggled as the baby learned to stand. We may have cheered upon success.
I went to 218 (the name for the building where we gather to serve and worship) about 1pm. As I walked in, the cross was still hanging. The thorns were still present. The candles were out and the evidence of a dark night was present. We began to transform the space for a party. The curtains went from the black fabric to the bronze satin. The waters of Baptism took the place of the cross. The drapes of the Lenten season were lifted and you could begin to feel the lightness in the air.
There were four of us working today. One took the time to lint roll all of the black chairs. One made sure that the bathroom supplies were stocked and the floors were clean. We all worked to create space for all to hear that the darkness has gone and we have a story worth sharing.
The last few years, I have gifted myself a guilt free Easter afternoon. This was a lesson that took many years to learn, but here is why. I give all that I have to Holy Week. By the time that Saturday evening comes around, I have poured and felt and worked and loved the heck out of the journey. The idea of cooking and cleaning is last on my list. I WANT to have a lovely Easter dinner or drive to be with family on the other side of town. But on the years that I have forced this, I leave with little to no resurrection joy. What seemed like a good idea 4 weeks beforehand, leaves me exhausted and downright intolerable by Sunday night.
Two years ago, I let go. I invited a few friends for crawfish on Easter. There was no set table, no place cards, no china. There was no silver or ham or rolls. We ate crawfish on newspaper in the backyard. It was wonderful. This year, we have our pool ready and some hotdogs and hamburgers. Paper plates will be more than sufficient, as we are going to focus on being the Church on this special day.
For those of us with deeply imbedded Southern Jesus-loving roots, this may seem sacrilegious. But for this free thinking, resurrection celebrating pastrix, flip-flops and shorts is exactly what I need. Any and all egg cuteness and bunny crafting will come because someone else played on Pinterest. If there are no vegetables and all desserts courtesy of pot-luck style lack of planning, hallelujah. And when it is all said and done, a nap is defiantly in the plan. I'll be ignoring all swimming teenagers by 2:30pm. Bye, Felicia.
Whatever you are planning to do to celebrate Jesus tomorrow, make it a day where the reason we gather is the focus of your planning. Sing and smile and love and laugh. Walk with a lightness and a spirit of joy. May we see Jesus in all the glory of new life and fling ourselves into a season of falling more deeply in love with our Savior.
I woke up this morning and intentionally slowed my thoughts. I recalled (in a pre-coffee haze) the pain that we walked though last night. I chose to hold on to Friday for as long as I could. Then I watched a giraffe be born and sat with my own 11 year-old giraffe and giggled as the baby learned to stand. We may have cheered upon success.
I went to 218 (the name for the building where we gather to serve and worship) about 1pm. As I walked in, the cross was still hanging. The thorns were still present. The candles were out and the evidence of a dark night was present. We began to transform the space for a party. The curtains went from the black fabric to the bronze satin. The waters of Baptism took the place of the cross. The drapes of the Lenten season were lifted and you could begin to feel the lightness in the air.
There were four of us working today. One took the time to lint roll all of the black chairs. One made sure that the bathroom supplies were stocked and the floors were clean. We all worked to create space for all to hear that the darkness has gone and we have a story worth sharing.
The last few years, I have gifted myself a guilt free Easter afternoon. This was a lesson that took many years to learn, but here is why. I give all that I have to Holy Week. By the time that Saturday evening comes around, I have poured and felt and worked and loved the heck out of the journey. The idea of cooking and cleaning is last on my list. I WANT to have a lovely Easter dinner or drive to be with family on the other side of town. But on the years that I have forced this, I leave with little to no resurrection joy. What seemed like a good idea 4 weeks beforehand, leaves me exhausted and downright intolerable by Sunday night.
Two years ago, I let go. I invited a few friends for crawfish on Easter. There was no set table, no place cards, no china. There was no silver or ham or rolls. We ate crawfish on newspaper in the backyard. It was wonderful. This year, we have our pool ready and some hotdogs and hamburgers. Paper plates will be more than sufficient, as we are going to focus on being the Church on this special day.
For those of us with deeply imbedded Southern Jesus-loving roots, this may seem sacrilegious. But for this free thinking, resurrection celebrating pastrix, flip-flops and shorts is exactly what I need. Any and all egg cuteness and bunny crafting will come because someone else played on Pinterest. If there are no vegetables and all desserts courtesy of pot-luck style lack of planning, hallelujah. And when it is all said and done, a nap is defiantly in the plan. I'll be ignoring all swimming teenagers by 2:30pm. Bye, Felicia.
Whatever you are planning to do to celebrate Jesus tomorrow, make it a day where the reason we gather is the focus of your planning. Sing and smile and love and laugh. Walk with a lightness and a spirit of joy. May we see Jesus in all the glory of new life and fling ourselves into a season of falling more deeply in love with our Savior.
Friday, April 14, 2017
The Journey of Holy Week: Good Friday
During our Good Friday service tonight, the room was filled with candlelight. As the story of the last day was read, little by little, the room grew darker. Only one candle remained, a single candle next to the cross. As the final words were read, Jesus was placed in the tomb and the room went black.
In that moment, a very real darkness was present. A familiar one that I know from days gone by. It was the darkness of depression and hopelessness and grief. It was a feeling that flooded my heart when the stone rolled in front of the tomb with a pounding sound. I helped plan the service. I had read the text countless times. This is not my first Good Friday. I knew what was coming. Yet in that moment, when the finality of it hit, it was a fresh raw wound.
I know that Good Friday is hard. I know that the service is dark. I also know that it is so very necessary to walk through the pain and feel the hopelessness so that the announcement that 'He Is Risen' means so much more.
I read a blog post today by one of my faves. She is a woman that I admire and look up to. She wrote about why this Good Friday feels different. For her, this year was filled with challenges from Jesus people that she had not known before. I get that.
The number of times that I have come to a personal point of spiritual 'next' and realized that I was standing outside the norm or comfortable or safe is too many to count. In the biggest and scariest of these seasons, I have reached for others and there have been moments of feeling like I was standing on a deserted island. Other times, I have found that what I have to say is so unpopular or unwanted that I may as well quit talking.
We have been conditioned to think that when you jump in the Jesus boat, you will always have people. Sometimes, that's just not true. Sometimes your voice is prophetic and painful. Sometimes your honesty is more than people are comfortable with. Sometimes you choose to step out in a new way and those that have been walking beside you stop mid-step and watch you walk away. This hurts.
It is even more painful to hear the commentary and judgement that is lined with calls for prayer, which is really just Christian-speak for gossip. When faced with these moments of bench clearing moves, we stand alone. For me, I sit and cry and shutoff and resent alone. Not one time have I frivolously stepped out in a major faith decision. When I have chosen to leave or stay or draw a line in the sand, I have done it out of a place of hard fought prayerful listening.
Have I always done it well? No.
Have I always looked to Jesus? You bet your booty.
If you find yourself in a place that the space where you heart occupies is dark and still and depressing, Jesus knows about that, and so do I. I have stood on the darkest hills in painful struggle all while others were doubting my motives. I have wept from feelings of abandonment, from painful decisions and from loneliness. All in the name of trying to serve God.
What I want to do in this next sentence is to tell you Sunday is coming. But I can't. It's not time for that. There will be a resurrection, but it's only Friday and for now, our job is to recognize that we have to be smack in the middle of that pain. There is not an instant fix. The first disciples did not have a countdown clock for Sunday because they didn't know it was coming. And for some of us, we don't either.
Thursday, April 13, 2017
The Journey of Holy Week: Thursday
Tonight was a special night. I have a new liturgical partner in crime at ECL and we are ridiculously excited about creative expressions of ancient truth. Tonight, we celebrated Maundy Thursday on a 40' picnic table that three guys built this week! It was amazing. Communion in the context of a meal, how...biblical. I wanted to share with you a picture of the night and a word from my reflection. I pray that this is a night where you are aware of the love and grace and inclusive nature of the table.
9 Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10 Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. 11 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 12 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. 13 Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Romans 12:9-13
This last line is why we chose to eat outside tonight. We cannot practice hospitality by having great meals inside a building that the world never sees. We can have a great band and wonderful coffee, but if we never open the door or invade a parking lot with food or serve the world, we find ourselves huddled in an Upper Room of our own making. And then, the world misses out on this beautiful meal.
Hospitality means getting dirty, and feeding hungry stomachs and being shelter from life’s storms. Hospitality means ushering hope into hopelessness and celebrating fully the joys of life. Hospitality means creating space for students and children to be loved when moms and dads are tired and weary.
When we share life, we remind each other in acts of service that our mission is to love one another in big, profound, Jesus-sized ways.
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
The Journey of Holy Week: Wednesday
Days before his betrayal and death, Jesus and his disciples were eating at the home of Simon. A woman, who is identified as Mary, approached Jesus with an alabaster jar of expensive perfume, worth about a year’s wages. Mary broke the jar, pouring the perfume on Jesus. In the ancient Near East, the act of anointing signified selection for some special role or task. Kings were often anointed with oil as part of their coronation ceremony.
In John's account of this story, Mary wipes the feet of Jesus. Anointing the feet models service, discipleship, and love. In a culture in which a woman’s touch was often forbidden, Mary dares to cradle the feet of Jesus in her hands and spread the oil across his ankles and toes with the ends of her hair. Rather than measuring out a small amount of oil, Mary breaks the jar and lets it all pour out. She’s all-in, fully committed, sparing no expense.
In John's account of this story, Mary wipes the feet of Jesus. Anointing the feet models service, discipleship, and love. In a culture in which a woman’s touch was often forbidden, Mary dares to cradle the feet of Jesus in her hands and spread the oil across his ankles and toes with the ends of her hair. Rather than measuring out a small amount of oil, Mary breaks the jar and lets it all pour out. She’s all-in, fully committed, sparing no expense.
I am not sure what the equivalent of this moment would be in modern culture, but it would be appalling. The shock of the onlookers, the feeling of watching a sacred and personal moment, the anger at the waste of resources. I can only imagine that I would have been one in the corner fussing about how Mary was doing it wrong.
But, I have Mary's in my life. They are generous, bold, gracious, servant women that in spite of the norms or the comfortable, they choose to jump in the middle of a touching moment to honor and revere those they love. Women like Mary, that surpass the appropriate and pour out their love and generosity in self-sacrificing ways. I've seen them in the hospital room and the nursery. I've witnessed them in moments of pain and celebrations. I've seen them hold a weeping child and nurse a sick loved one. I've seen the way that they hold a hand through the diagnosis and refuse to walk away.
In each of these moments, I have watched as the rest of the world stood by with their list of norms and to-do's and could not understand what was drawing them to a kind of servanthood that is foreign to most of us. The kind of love that causes you to give up something precious all in the name of expressing the gift of relationship.
The coming days are hard.
We will eat.
We will pray.
We will sleep.
We will deny.
We will forsake.
We will weep.
It will be a long 3 days. So, for tonight, spend a moment with the Savior. Pour out your love for Jesus in a new way. Walk deeper into the truth that he is worth giving your best for. And sit at his feet for a moment, oily hair and all.
Tuesday, April 11, 2017
The Journey of Holy Week: Tuesday
I don't really like the last few days in the life of Jesus. Up until that point I think much of what he did was endearing. Sure, he spoke a truthful word, but he loved kids, honored women and healed...a lot. When we read about the last few days of his life, the tone seems a bit more hurried. It's almost as if he is trying to pack in all of the important things that he wants to say. The words are pointed. He fusses at religious leaders, he curses a fig tree, he tells stories that point clearly to a lack of faith. More than ever, I hear this need to communicate with those that may still be listening.
I have found this to be true of those that I have watched grow older, as well. It's as if with the compounding gray and the declining health, the gift of time seems fleeting. When the awareness of fewer days becomes a reality, the need to share truth is more pressing. I certainly don't think of myself on the downhill side of life, but as I've made my way up the mountain, I feel a since of freedom to share truth from my experience. At the same time, I see many opportunities to share my passions in the years to come, and Jesus knew that was not going to be his story.
It is not lost on me that one of the groups that Jesus had the harshest words for - all the way to the end - was the religious leaders. I am more and more and more and more convicted every day that as we step out in the ministry of Jesus, we are going to be held accountable for the ways that we lead people. I never want a human to cross my path and think that they are unlovable. Feelings of unworthiness and exclusion are incompatible with Jesus. As a leader in the church, I will fall on the side of love and grace. Every. Single. Time. Now, sometimes love FEELS harsh. I'm a mom to two teenagers, so I understand this on many levels. Jesus didn't promise us an easy life, free from pain. But, he did promise us a comforter in the pain.
So wherever you find yourself on this Tuesday night, draw deeper into the truth of his final days. He wanted us to hear the depth of his love in the truth of his words. He gave us example after example of how to love. Now, it's our job to do it.
I have found this to be true of those that I have watched grow older, as well. It's as if with the compounding gray and the declining health, the gift of time seems fleeting. When the awareness of fewer days becomes a reality, the need to share truth is more pressing. I certainly don't think of myself on the downhill side of life, but as I've made my way up the mountain, I feel a since of freedom to share truth from my experience. At the same time, I see many opportunities to share my passions in the years to come, and Jesus knew that was not going to be his story.
It is not lost on me that one of the groups that Jesus had the harshest words for - all the way to the end - was the religious leaders. I am more and more and more and more convicted every day that as we step out in the ministry of Jesus, we are going to be held accountable for the ways that we lead people. I never want a human to cross my path and think that they are unlovable. Feelings of unworthiness and exclusion are incompatible with Jesus. As a leader in the church, I will fall on the side of love and grace. Every. Single. Time. Now, sometimes love FEELS harsh. I'm a mom to two teenagers, so I understand this on many levels. Jesus didn't promise us an easy life, free from pain. But, he did promise us a comforter in the pain.
So wherever you find yourself on this Tuesday night, draw deeper into the truth of his final days. He wanted us to hear the depth of his love in the truth of his words. He gave us example after example of how to love. Now, it's our job to do it.
Monday, April 10, 2017
The Journey of Holy Week: Monday
If you read the account of the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, you notice that immediately following the story of Palm Sunday comes the story of Jesus clearing the temple. If you have not read this recently, I encourage you to look in either Matthew 21, Mark 11 or Luke 19. For those who would like to pick apart the scholastic holes or intensely study the differences in these accounts, we can do that another day. For today, I have two questions.
Jesus is headed for a brutal end. He knows this is coming. He sees the writing on the wall of the call on his life. This leads me to believe that if he is spending his last days once again sharing with the world that it time to get our act together, this is important business. So question #1 - What do you need to clean up in your life to be ready to receive the gift of Resurrection? Are you hosting a swap meet of values? Are you trying to make space for the unimportant rather than holding the court of honor for the sacred and holy?
For me, this week is about returning to a space of sacred YES. I spent tonight doing yoga with my oldest. I will spend much time this week in my faith community. We will intentionally slow down. If we rush right through this week with packed calendars and full days and hurried emotions, we will find ourselves there on Sunday morning as well.
The same is true about our churches. For those on church staffs, we WORK this week. We want it all to be perfect and polished and excellent. We know that for some folks, this will be the last time we see them until December 24th. Here's the truth, if we are not journeying with Jesus through this week, everything we try to polish up for Sunday will be empty. May we take tomorrow and Wednesday to walk though our worship spaces and pray that people will encounter the depth of the gift of new life. May we weep with those who are experiencing death and yet claim with them, even when they can't that resurrection is the promise.
I feel certain that if Jesus was to walk through our lives and our churches and see us spiffing up the carpets and scrubbing the bathrooms and planting new plants on the front walk, he would check our hearts. And if he found that our polish and pretty was about the exterior only, he would flip the tables of our churches and our hearts just like he did in scripture.
May the Savior find our hearts ready for the journey of this week. All of it.
Jesus is headed for a brutal end. He knows this is coming. He sees the writing on the wall of the call on his life. This leads me to believe that if he is spending his last days once again sharing with the world that it time to get our act together, this is important business. So question #1 - What do you need to clean up in your life to be ready to receive the gift of Resurrection? Are you hosting a swap meet of values? Are you trying to make space for the unimportant rather than holding the court of honor for the sacred and holy?
For me, this week is about returning to a space of sacred YES. I spent tonight doing yoga with my oldest. I will spend much time this week in my faith community. We will intentionally slow down. If we rush right through this week with packed calendars and full days and hurried emotions, we will find ourselves there on Sunday morning as well.
The same is true about our churches. For those on church staffs, we WORK this week. We want it all to be perfect and polished and excellent. We know that for some folks, this will be the last time we see them until December 24th. Here's the truth, if we are not journeying with Jesus through this week, everything we try to polish up for Sunday will be empty. May we take tomorrow and Wednesday to walk though our worship spaces and pray that people will encounter the depth of the gift of new life. May we weep with those who are experiencing death and yet claim with them, even when they can't that resurrection is the promise.
I feel certain that if Jesus was to walk through our lives and our churches and see us spiffing up the carpets and scrubbing the bathrooms and planting new plants on the front walk, he would check our hearts. And if he found that our polish and pretty was about the exterior only, he would flip the tables of our churches and our hearts just like he did in scripture.
May the Savior find our hearts ready for the journey of this week. All of it.
Sunday, April 9, 2017
The Journey of Holy Week: Palm Sunday
This is the week. This is the week that changed everything for those who follow Jesus. For those of us that love the rhythm of the Church Calendar, we get dorky excited when Holy Week begins. It's the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Our journey is wrapped up in everything from celebration to sorrow and back again. I need just a moment to express some personal thoughts on this week. Well, perhaps they are more than thoughts, they are suggestions. Please hear them with the appropriate amount of love and grace and firmness.
PLEASE do not skip from Sunday to Sunday. The story of Jesus is not complete with palms and lilies. We need the bread and the cup. We need the nails and the grief. We need the stone closing the tomb. When we wave palm branches on Palm Sunday and skip past the week to a sunrise egg hunt and matching family pastels, we miss the WHY.
I missed worship today. I was on a plane home from Tampa with tired swimmers and even more exhausted parents, coaches and Mimi's. As we flew, I was reminded that around the world, people were gathering together and shouting Hosannah and celebrating that the King is riding the donkey into Jerusalem in Glory. Then the news informed me that Christians in Egypt were doing just this when terror invaded their worship. This news made my desire to celebrate our hope even more important this week. Honestly, I was terribly sad that I was not with my community this morning, and I took a few moments of stillness to usher myself into this week. This is important. We have much to celebrate and grieve about and hope for in the days to come. Be present and connect in ways that are meaningful for you.
Over the next few days, I am going to write about stories that are found in the Gospels between the entry of Jesus to Jerusalem and the Last Supper. On Thursday, we will remember this holy meal. Friday is the day that hope seems lost as we witness the pain of death. And then we wait.
You can do this in many ways, but I find it especially valuable to do this in the context of community. For my local friends, I would be honored to have you as a part of our community at ECL. Wednesday, we will close out our Lenten study with a conversation entitled "There is a place at the table for all." The study starts at 7pm. On Thursday, we will share the Eucharist in the context of a meal. Join us at 6:30pm under the oak trees at 218 Clear Creek Ave. Friday, we will journey with the Gospel writers and be reminded of the pain of death. This service will draw on the hopelessness on the day of Crucifixion. And finally, next Sunday at 10am we will celebrate all that is Resurrection. All of it!
This week is intentionally painful. The road is not easy. My prayer for you is that you can find a space and time and way to be on a journey this week. And if the journey of Jesus seems like a far away story from a far away time, I pray that it will come alive for you this week. May we see the road leading into Jerusalem as our invitation to hope.
PLEASE do not skip from Sunday to Sunday. The story of Jesus is not complete with palms and lilies. We need the bread and the cup. We need the nails and the grief. We need the stone closing the tomb. When we wave palm branches on Palm Sunday and skip past the week to a sunrise egg hunt and matching family pastels, we miss the WHY.
I missed worship today. I was on a plane home from Tampa with tired swimmers and even more exhausted parents, coaches and Mimi's. As we flew, I was reminded that around the world, people were gathering together and shouting Hosannah and celebrating that the King is riding the donkey into Jerusalem in Glory. Then the news informed me that Christians in Egypt were doing just this when terror invaded their worship. This news made my desire to celebrate our hope even more important this week. Honestly, I was terribly sad that I was not with my community this morning, and I took a few moments of stillness to usher myself into this week. This is important. We have much to celebrate and grieve about and hope for in the days to come. Be present and connect in ways that are meaningful for you.
Over the next few days, I am going to write about stories that are found in the Gospels between the entry of Jesus to Jerusalem and the Last Supper. On Thursday, we will remember this holy meal. Friday is the day that hope seems lost as we witness the pain of death. And then we wait.
You can do this in many ways, but I find it especially valuable to do this in the context of community. For my local friends, I would be honored to have you as a part of our community at ECL. Wednesday, we will close out our Lenten study with a conversation entitled "There is a place at the table for all." The study starts at 7pm. On Thursday, we will share the Eucharist in the context of a meal. Join us at 6:30pm under the oak trees at 218 Clear Creek Ave. Friday, we will journey with the Gospel writers and be reminded of the pain of death. This service will draw on the hopelessness on the day of Crucifixion. And finally, next Sunday at 10am we will celebrate all that is Resurrection. All of it!
This week is intentionally painful. The road is not easy. My prayer for you is that you can find a space and time and way to be on a journey this week. And if the journey of Jesus seems like a far away story from a far away time, I pray that it will come alive for you this week. May we see the road leading into Jerusalem as our invitation to hope.
Saturday, April 8, 2017
Be the Change
I am a medical nut. I read way too much. I like to think that I am an amateur doctor. Years ago, I read a story about a star player of a high school basketball team who developed an unusual medical condition: blebs. Apparently, the boy had experienced a growth spurt in which his body grew faster than his lungs, causing blebs – a sort of blister that forms on the lungs – to develop. One of these blebs ruptured, causing his lung to actually collapse, sending him to bed for weeks.
He was experiencing a severe case of something that many of us go through in a less concrete way as we try to make changes in our lives - growing pains. No matter how desperately we desire to proactively make changes, like losing weight or changing careers, or how much we crave to be more adaptable to our rapidly changing world or recover from our failures with more resilience, the fact is that sometimes – most times – change hurts. And often, change hurts enough that the most human, instinctive reaction is to stop what seems like the cause of the pain: our efforts at transformation.
Growing pains.
Maybe you’ve these pains in comments like this:
“We’ve tried that before – it’s never worked, and it won’t work now.”
“We’ve never done that before and I don’t know why we’re doing it now.”
“______ thinks they know everything. But he/she’s clueless about how we do things here. They know nothing about our culture.”
Growing pains.
We need a new pair of glasses when we come to the moments that we realize that we are in the midst of growing pains. God’s call for us is not going to change. God’s plan for wholeness and restoration is without end. What has to change is our heart. And in order to do that, we need to quit looking through the glasses of failures and judgement and victimhood. We must begin to see that our heart, our thoughts and our outlook on change are what is keeping us locked in growing pains.
Until we are able to take off the glasses of resentment and judgement and risk self-exposure and an honest examination of the motives of our heart, we will spend our lives afraid of growing pains and trapped in our head. So tonight, I wonder. Where do I need take off the glasses of victimhood, fear and negativity and see change as an opportunity to walk through growing pains to transformation?
Each time you put a pair of glasses one this week, take time think and be still. To look through new lenses at the changes that are happening around you. Put sunglasses in your car. Remember these decisions when your reasign glasses do on. in your car, write on them, put them in the place that you know you will see them when your thoughts start to take you down the road to fear and running from God.
And share it with someone. Talk to a friend, a counselor, me. Let them know how to pray for your heart, because the call of God on your life is not changing, so now its time to align your heart.
He was experiencing a severe case of something that many of us go through in a less concrete way as we try to make changes in our lives - growing pains. No matter how desperately we desire to proactively make changes, like losing weight or changing careers, or how much we crave to be more adaptable to our rapidly changing world or recover from our failures with more resilience, the fact is that sometimes – most times – change hurts. And often, change hurts enough that the most human, instinctive reaction is to stop what seems like the cause of the pain: our efforts at transformation.
Growing pains.
Maybe you’ve these pains in comments like this:
“We’ve tried that before – it’s never worked, and it won’t work now.”
“We’ve never done that before and I don’t know why we’re doing it now.”
“______ thinks they know everything. But he/she’s clueless about how we do things here. They know nothing about our culture.”
Growing pains.
We need a new pair of glasses when we come to the moments that we realize that we are in the midst of growing pains. God’s call for us is not going to change. God’s plan for wholeness and restoration is without end. What has to change is our heart. And in order to do that, we need to quit looking through the glasses of failures and judgement and victimhood. We must begin to see that our heart, our thoughts and our outlook on change are what is keeping us locked in growing pains.
Until we are able to take off the glasses of resentment and judgement and risk self-exposure and an honest examination of the motives of our heart, we will spend our lives afraid of growing pains and trapped in our head. So tonight, I wonder. Where do I need take off the glasses of victimhood, fear and negativity and see change as an opportunity to walk through growing pains to transformation?
Each time you put a pair of glasses one this week, take time think and be still. To look through new lenses at the changes that are happening around you. Put sunglasses in your car. Remember these decisions when your reasign glasses do on. in your car, write on them, put them in the place that you know you will see them when your thoughts start to take you down the road to fear and running from God.
And share it with someone. Talk to a friend, a counselor, me. Let them know how to pray for your heart, because the call of God on your life is not changing, so now its time to align your heart.
Friday, April 7, 2017
Why a GA Matters
I grew up with a dad that preached GA, which stands for Good Attitude. From the time I could walk, I heard the necessity of an attitude that saw life through a positive lens. The number of times that I was reminded to change my outlook, mood or word choice equates to a very large figure. As a parent, I wonder why my dad did not make a recording that chanted his mantra. It would have saved many a lecture.
While I certainly don't always embrace GA as a way of life, I have a still small voice in my heart that speaks (and sometimes screams) at me when my mind wanders to negative places. Keeping my heart out of negativity land is a challenge.
While I don't always master the art of GA, I have taught the term and goal to my girls. As they are much like their mom, sometimes we see their GA shine. Sometimes, well, we don't. Today was not one of those days. Matter of fact, today was one of those days where my kiddo taught ME about GA. When things were less than ideal in her swim world, she had a GREAT attitude. She was disappointed, complete with a purple devil emoji sent from the pool deck. But, in the midst of the challenge, she made a choice to have a GA. She made the best of the situation that she was dealt and camera in hand, chose to support her teammates and with a genuine smile on her face. She had a great GA day.
My dad has given me the foundation and belief that our attitude and outlook matter. My kids are living that out in front of my eyes. I'm thankful for both ends of the generational spectrum that teach me everyday how to live into the values that I hold dear.
While I certainly don't always embrace GA as a way of life, I have a still small voice in my heart that speaks (and sometimes screams) at me when my mind wanders to negative places. Keeping my heart out of negativity land is a challenge.
While I don't always master the art of GA, I have taught the term and goal to my girls. As they are much like their mom, sometimes we see their GA shine. Sometimes, well, we don't. Today was not one of those days. Matter of fact, today was one of those days where my kiddo taught ME about GA. When things were less than ideal in her swim world, she had a GREAT attitude. She was disappointed, complete with a purple devil emoji sent from the pool deck. But, in the midst of the challenge, she made a choice to have a GA. She made the best of the situation that she was dealt and camera in hand, chose to support her teammates and with a genuine smile on her face. She had a great GA day.
My dad has given me the foundation and belief that our attitude and outlook matter. My kids are living that out in front of my eyes. I'm thankful for both ends of the generational spectrum that teach me everyday how to live into the values that I hold dear.
Thursday, April 6, 2017
Bye, Felicia
I am in the middle of a 6 day trip with my mom and youngest daughter. We are attending a swim meet in Florida, living in a hotel together and have many laughs. Of course, we are human, so there are times when our lack of sleep or ability to have the amenities of home have proved to be challenging. If you don't know my youngest, she is one of a kind. Spicy. Strong-willed. Hilarious. She hates taking showers, loves making messes and finds great joy in giving instructions. For these 6 days, she has 2 adults focused on her every need and let's just say that she is eating up every minute of this adventure.
My mom excels at grand-mothering. She has a plethora of gifts, but honestly watching her be a grandmother is one of my all-time most favoritist things in the whole wide world. She plays and loves and carries on (that's a southern term for all the right things.) She spoils and makes them laugh and is interested in their people and things. She is giving up 6 days to be sleep deprived, all with the goal of watching approximately 7.5 minutes of Ally racing. Seriously. When I grow up, I want to be just like Mimi. But named Jazzy or Sassy or Fab...I digress.
There was a cinematic classic that was popular in the mid '90s entitled, Friday. This work of genius contained an unforgettable scene that included an overlooked Oscar candidate, Ice Cube, his friend Smokey (Chris Tucker) and a character by the name of Felicia. For more than 20 years, those of us that profess loyalty to all things of this era have found great joy in the phrase, "Bye, Felicia."
My generation is now brilliantly raising our children to appreciate this term as a standard response to all those who are in our personal space, annoying a group dynamic or candidates for removal from a conversation. For instance, neighbors that that ask to borrow a car, not sugar. That's a Friday joke. If you don't get it, keep reading.
Back to Ally and Mimi. On this trip I am keeping a running tally of the number of times that Ally appropriately uses the term, "Bye, Felicia." She is quality, making me proud with a respectable, yet not overused, 2x a day average. She is well timed and spot on. All of this, from a child that has never seen the trashy, I mean classic, stoner buddy comedy. She knows only of the well-passed humor that her mother has brilliantly taught.
As we were playing Phase 10 tonight, a game ending move was made. Before any smack talk could ensue, Mimi in her best Ally impersonation exclaimed, "Shut up, Felicity!"
*insert Ally and I falling to the floor in laughter*
We could not contain the giggles. Mimi thought she had the line mastered after 2 days of observation, but Ally and I could not get over the err in word choice or the fact that she had not a CLUE what she was saying. Mimi was jumping right into the chaos of our silly jokes. This is just excellent grand-parenting. This is what all good parents should do. Matter of fact, I recommend it for all relationships that matter.
When you can take something that your loved ones find humorous or touching and join them on that path, no matter the 'correctness', you are winning. The look on Ally's face (and let's be honest, mine, too) was hilarious. We may just start saying "Shut up, Felicity" just for the guttural reaction. The fact that my mom would care enough to listen to our jokes and try to participate in them is priceless. She has transformed this one into something that now has much more meaning to all of us. Write these moments down. Tell stories about them. These are the classics that will forever be reminders of the ways that Mimi ran though generational and pop-culture barriers to connect with her adolescent grandchildren.
Well done, Mimi, well done.
P.S. I am sad to say that after showing her the "Bye, Felicia" clip, mom was not impressed.
My mom excels at grand-mothering. She has a plethora of gifts, but honestly watching her be a grandmother is one of my all-time most favoritist things in the whole wide world. She plays and loves and carries on (that's a southern term for all the right things.) She spoils and makes them laugh and is interested in their people and things. She is giving up 6 days to be sleep deprived, all with the goal of watching approximately 7.5 minutes of Ally racing. Seriously. When I grow up, I want to be just like Mimi. But named Jazzy or Sassy or Fab...I digress.
There was a cinematic classic that was popular in the mid '90s entitled, Friday. This work of genius contained an unforgettable scene that included an overlooked Oscar candidate, Ice Cube, his friend Smokey (Chris Tucker) and a character by the name of Felicia. For more than 20 years, those of us that profess loyalty to all things of this era have found great joy in the phrase, "Bye, Felicia."
My generation is now brilliantly raising our children to appreciate this term as a standard response to all those who are in our personal space, annoying a group dynamic or candidates for removal from a conversation. For instance, neighbors that that ask to borrow a car, not sugar. That's a Friday joke. If you don't get it, keep reading.
Back to Ally and Mimi. On this trip I am keeping a running tally of the number of times that Ally appropriately uses the term, "Bye, Felicia." She is quality, making me proud with a respectable, yet not overused, 2x a day average. She is well timed and spot on. All of this, from a child that has never seen the trashy, I mean classic, stoner buddy comedy. She knows only of the well-passed humor that her mother has brilliantly taught.
As we were playing Phase 10 tonight, a game ending move was made. Before any smack talk could ensue, Mimi in her best Ally impersonation exclaimed, "Shut up, Felicity!"
*insert Ally and I falling to the floor in laughter*
We could not contain the giggles. Mimi thought she had the line mastered after 2 days of observation, but Ally and I could not get over the err in word choice or the fact that she had not a CLUE what she was saying. Mimi was jumping right into the chaos of our silly jokes. This is just excellent grand-parenting. This is what all good parents should do. Matter of fact, I recommend it for all relationships that matter.
When you can take something that your loved ones find humorous or touching and join them on that path, no matter the 'correctness', you are winning. The look on Ally's face (and let's be honest, mine, too) was hilarious. We may just start saying "Shut up, Felicity" just for the guttural reaction. The fact that my mom would care enough to listen to our jokes and try to participate in them is priceless. She has transformed this one into something that now has much more meaning to all of us. Write these moments down. Tell stories about them. These are the classics that will forever be reminders of the ways that Mimi ran though generational and pop-culture barriers to connect with her adolescent grandchildren.
Well done, Mimi, well done.
P.S. I am sad to say that after showing her the "Bye, Felicia" clip, mom was not impressed.
Wednesday, April 5, 2017
No, You are Not An Expert
I am continually amazed by the fact that despite a lack of education and experience, people feel that by reading an article on Facebook or a feed on Instagram, they are highly educated on a subject. I spent the day watching parents of high level young athletes impart their wisdom and knowledge about the sport of swimming. Sure, some of the parents in the stands have been competitive swimmers, but my guess is that most are like me. We have gained our knowledge from sweating through meets, watching other parents and listening at practice. I have absolutely nothing in the experience realm to offer my swimmer. What I can do is be present.
That goes for all of us in all of life's experiences. We are going to have situations that are unfamiliar. We are going to be introduced to new concepts and ideas. Our job is to be life learners, not instant experts. Tonight I will offer a Top 10 List. The title is '10 Ways to be UNfriended in Life'. To me, building any relationship is hard, but to build a friendship with your parents, your spouse, your children and your siblings, you must do hard work. Everyday. These relationships take time and effort and it's our job to do it! So, if you find yourself in a challenging friendship, consider if any of these things are playing into your conflict:
10. Always come from a place of judgement.
9. Assume that you have the answers and can help.
8. Jump into every conflict with a solution.
7. Listen to one side of the story and believe that you have all of the information.
6. Walk into every conversation with a pre-set mind.
5. Assume that they want to hear what you have to say.
4. Never share your own personal experience with the subject.
3. Try to fix everything your friend is doing.
2. Give advice.
1. Never ask any questions.
That goes for all of us in all of life's experiences. We are going to have situations that are unfamiliar. We are going to be introduced to new concepts and ideas. Our job is to be life learners, not instant experts. Tonight I will offer a Top 10 List. The title is '10 Ways to be UNfriended in Life'. To me, building any relationship is hard, but to build a friendship with your parents, your spouse, your children and your siblings, you must do hard work. Everyday. These relationships take time and effort and it's our job to do it! So, if you find yourself in a challenging friendship, consider if any of these things are playing into your conflict:
10. Always come from a place of judgement.
9. Assume that you have the answers and can help.
8. Jump into every conflict with a solution.
7. Listen to one side of the story and believe that you have all of the information.
6. Walk into every conversation with a pre-set mind.
5. Assume that they want to hear what you have to say.
4. Never share your own personal experience with the subject.
3. Try to fix everything your friend is doing.
2. Give advice.
1. Never ask any questions.
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
The Cost of Year Round Sports
Just the title of this post is causing some of you to twitch. The thought of spending your time, money and weekends chasing a kid around the state and beyond is your worst nightmare. Trust me, there are mornings that I would like to turn off my alarm, but we can talk about that in another post. Today, I want you know about what being a swim mom has cost our family.
Having our daughter on a year-round swim team has cost us our ability to be helicopter parents. I have seen first hand that sports, in and of themselves, do not provide this but for our family, challenging our child to speak to her coaches, listen to advice and make her own decisions about training has cost us our ability to hover. Sure, there are times that we have to step in an advocate or teach, but by giving her the ability to set her own goals and drive her passion, we are stepping out of the micromanagement role.
The practice schedule that year-round sports requires has cost us our procrastination. It doesn't work to put off homework and laundry when you have practice looming. You can't wait until the weekend to finish a project when the weekend includes two full days at a swim meet. Time management, self control(ish) and maturing decision making have transformed my kid into a growing teen.
Sure the financial cost of year round sports is not insignificant, but by giving our daughter this avenue to dream, we have been forced to prioritize our finances. This has cost us other areas of our life, but not once have I regretted it. If a vacation doesn't happen or a new toy is not purchased or a house upgrade is not made, I don't care. The sacrifices we make in allowing our girls the resources for their activities is our priority in this season. One will be out of our house in 3 years and the other in 6. There is nothing that I want to do that can't wait until then. One more note, we don't see year round sports as our college savings plan. All of the statistical data shows that the likelihood of our of our 11 year-old continuing to pursue this sport to the level required for college scholarships is slim. If she wants to, that is great. In the meantime, we will still be saving for college so she can be a physical therapist or teacher or engineer without thinking twice of the pressure to swim.
These are just three of the many things that being committed to pursing a passion has given our family. Sure, some of the costs are more taxing, and I am the FIRST to tell you it is not for everyone (for example my oldest). I certainly caution anyone from naively thinking that this is an easy way to get out of junior high PE. However, if you have a kid like mine, who is self driven and has a passion for work, it can be a blessing. And even after comparing the pros and cons, I would do it all over again.
Having our daughter on a year-round swim team has cost us our ability to be helicopter parents. I have seen first hand that sports, in and of themselves, do not provide this but for our family, challenging our child to speak to her coaches, listen to advice and make her own decisions about training has cost us our ability to hover. Sure, there are times that we have to step in an advocate or teach, but by giving her the ability to set her own goals and drive her passion, we are stepping out of the micromanagement role.
The practice schedule that year-round sports requires has cost us our procrastination. It doesn't work to put off homework and laundry when you have practice looming. You can't wait until the weekend to finish a project when the weekend includes two full days at a swim meet. Time management, self control(ish) and maturing decision making have transformed my kid into a growing teen.
Sure the financial cost of year round sports is not insignificant, but by giving our daughter this avenue to dream, we have been forced to prioritize our finances. This has cost us other areas of our life, but not once have I regretted it. If a vacation doesn't happen or a new toy is not purchased or a house upgrade is not made, I don't care. The sacrifices we make in allowing our girls the resources for their activities is our priority in this season. One will be out of our house in 3 years and the other in 6. There is nothing that I want to do that can't wait until then. One more note, we don't see year round sports as our college savings plan. All of the statistical data shows that the likelihood of our of our 11 year-old continuing to pursue this sport to the level required for college scholarships is slim. If she wants to, that is great. In the meantime, we will still be saving for college so she can be a physical therapist or teacher or engineer without thinking twice of the pressure to swim.
These are just three of the many things that being committed to pursing a passion has given our family. Sure, some of the costs are more taxing, and I am the FIRST to tell you it is not for everyone (for example my oldest). I certainly caution anyone from naively thinking that this is an easy way to get out of junior high PE. However, if you have a kid like mine, who is self driven and has a passion for work, it can be a blessing. And even after comparing the pros and cons, I would do it all over again.
Monday, April 3, 2017
One Shining Moment
In my household, we are slightly competitive. There is no need for athletic ability to have a fierce competitive streak. I am living proof of this. I can go for blood in everything from Nerts to the ABC game on a road trip. I take winning very seriously.
For 20 years, Lucas and I have filled out our March Madness brackets with intensity. I know that a 5/12 matchup is dangerous. I know that Duke will let me down, and yet I still pick them. It doesn't matter if my beloved Baylor is in the tournament, in the name of a bracket will, I will forsake all green and gold loyalty. I just hate to lose.
When we were newly married, We would bet for bragging rights because there was not prize money available. When the kids were little, we bet middle of the night duty. There was a season that included a month of your chore of choice duty. These last few years have been a bit more challenging. What does it take to get us fired up after all of these years?
Well, this year the bet was for pride. The winner gets to pick the locale of our next couple's getaway. This is my turf. I am the vacation planner. It is my JOB in this family to plan all trips. If you don't know this about us, let me assure you that we would not choose the same vacation destination. Ever. I want to explore a city. Lucas wants to ride the best mountain bike trails in the country. I want to eat a new fancy restaurant, Lucas wants to avoid wearing long pants at all cost.
So, the game is over. The brackets are complete. The winner has been declared. And "One Shining Moment" is about to play. Another year of trash talk has been completed. I love this song every year, and I watch with the dork tears that only a sports fan can appreciate. The most amazing shots will be remembered. The thrill of the Cinderella will be celebrated. And I will watch through the lens of my heart.
But the real question is, who has bragging rights? I know you all want to know. Who will be listed as the Hilbrich Household Champion for 2017? I tip my hat and ask, Lucas, where are we headed?
For 20 years, Lucas and I have filled out our March Madness brackets with intensity. I know that a 5/12 matchup is dangerous. I know that Duke will let me down, and yet I still pick them. It doesn't matter if my beloved Baylor is in the tournament, in the name of a bracket will, I will forsake all green and gold loyalty. I just hate to lose.
When we were newly married, We would bet for bragging rights because there was not prize money available. When the kids were little, we bet middle of the night duty. There was a season that included a month of your chore of choice duty. These last few years have been a bit more challenging. What does it take to get us fired up after all of these years?
Well, this year the bet was for pride. The winner gets to pick the locale of our next couple's getaway. This is my turf. I am the vacation planner. It is my JOB in this family to plan all trips. If you don't know this about us, let me assure you that we would not choose the same vacation destination. Ever. I want to explore a city. Lucas wants to ride the best mountain bike trails in the country. I want to eat a new fancy restaurant, Lucas wants to avoid wearing long pants at all cost.
So, the game is over. The brackets are complete. The winner has been declared. And "One Shining Moment" is about to play. Another year of trash talk has been completed. I love this song every year, and I watch with the dork tears that only a sports fan can appreciate. The most amazing shots will be remembered. The thrill of the Cinderella will be celebrated. And I will watch through the lens of my heart.
But the real question is, who has bragging rights? I know you all want to know. Who will be listed as the Hilbrich Household Champion for 2017? I tip my hat and ask, Lucas, where are we headed?
Sunday, April 2, 2017
3,653 Days
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Since my first sobriety birthday, I have asked someone who has played a special part in the previous year to go with me to pick up my birthday chip. Of course, the list is far from exhaustive, as the numerous faces that have made my journey all that it is today cannot be represented in 10 coins. More than anything, I have tried to choose people who have said or done things that in that year directly reassured me that I was enough.
As I was preparing for my 10th birthday, it seemed heavy. Somehow a decade of sobriety brought on feelings of weight in the best way possible. As I reflected on who I wanted to take this year, there was one name that just kept coming to my mind. It somehow seemed like a full circle moment, as AJ and I have come to a place where we honestly talk about all things recovery. She knows my story. For the parts that she does not remember, she now is of an age where we openly talk about what it was like, what happened and what it is like now.
So tonight, AJ drove me to my birthday meeting. As we walked in the club she reminded me of what it was like to come here when she was 5 and scared of the babysitting room. As we sat in the room before the meeting, she read the signs on the walls and realized where the language that I use in everyday life is learned. She had never been to a meeting, and I was so thankful that tonight's book study focused in the 4th step, which is making a "searching and fearless moral inventory." Somehow it just seemed so right for her to hear about something that was so hard for her mom, but that without a doubt has saved her life and sanity time and time and time again.
One tradition that I love at this particular meeting is that as we close we each take a moment to express something that we are grateful for. As we went around the table, I leaned over to her and said, you don't have to speak if you don't want to. She did. And the joy and relief and gratitude that I experienced in that moment was wrapped up with 10 years of a life changing hard work.
And then we made it to birthday chips. It was a gift that one of my long time heroes handed me my chip tonight. I love that she knew me from day one and reminded me of the journey. As she tells the story, I was folded up like an envelope in my chair when she met me. The fear gremlins were in full effect and yet her kindness and encouragement has not changed one bit from that first meeting. She has been a witness to the transformation, and as I look back, so have I.
The chip that I picked up tonight is depicted in the picture at the top of this post. My amazing SIL created a personalized card for me this year with the chip on the front. As I reflect on the journey, I am beyond thankful for those that have been there with me. Some from day 1 and some that have come into my life since then. For all those who have helped my envelope like legs fold to touch the floor and have encouraged me to keep growing and have offered support in ways that I didn't know to ask for, "thank you" is wildly insufficient.
I'll leave you with the image of AJ and I walking to the car after the meeting. As she walked, she grabbed my arm and said, "Mom, I am so proud of you." Drop the mic.
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Part 7: Why I Still Have a Place at the Table
A beautiful thing happened in the midst of me getting sober. Do you remember the church, Ecclesia, that I told you about a few days ago? In late 2006 they began the process of planting satellite communities in the greater Houston suburbs. The small group of Jesus followers that helped hold the light for me in this season became leaders and visionaries for a group that eventually became Ecclesia - Clear Lake.
In September of 2007, we launched a weekly worship gathering on Sunday nights. We were a nomadic group that was blessed with a home in other church buildings to meet together once a week. The hard work of this new church was being done as people around the Bay Area were seeing needs that were not being met and they were determined to bring light to dark places. I was fully invested in my recovery by this point, and I knew exactly where I was supposed to give my life away.
You see, I love the Church. I believe in the Church, but many of my people, my tribe of like minded broken hearted people, have been hurt by the church. They have been told they don’t fit. They feel unworthy and unqualified. They have been given the message that they don’t have what it takes to be included.
In September of 2007, we launched a weekly worship gathering on Sunday nights. We were a nomadic group that was blessed with a home in other church buildings to meet together once a week. The hard work of this new church was being done as people around the Bay Area were seeing needs that were not being met and they were determined to bring light to dark places. I was fully invested in my recovery by this point, and I knew exactly where I was supposed to give my life away.
You see, I love the Church. I believe in the Church, but many of my people, my tribe of like minded broken hearted people, have been hurt by the church. They have been told they don’t fit. They feel unworthy and unqualified. They have been given the message that they don’t have what it takes to be included.
So, I have committed my calling to being their voice in my church. My messy, open, bold, crass talking, honesty wielding, people loving voice. I have taken up my cross to lay on swords for my tribe. To preach about things like wholeness and authenticity and mental health and addiction. To be open about how God is still using my messy wild life to bring hope to this world.
About a year ago, a friend from our early church days posted this on my Facebook wall:
So today marks the anniversary of our becoming "Facebook Friends" back in 2009.... I am reminded of this crazy chick I met at a church that wore a faux tattoo sleeve shirt to make the new guy feel at home... I am glad you were you...
I was the Jesus loving, coffee drinking, cigar smoking tattooed pastor that he needed. Our church was the open door of grace that took him from the life of a patched-in motorcycle gang member to the foot of the cross.
Not only did I have a calling, I had a place. A place that still wanted me around in the midst of my messy life. A place that time and time and time again told me in words and actions that I am not only accepted but I am a vital leader BECAUSE my life tells a story of truthfulness. I'm sure there are some times that I make people a bit nervous with my stories. I'm sure that some people walk in on Sunday mornings (advanced warning, this will be the case tomorrow), realize that I have on the Britney Spears headset and they just hold onto their seats. Because, you never know what I might decide to share.
One of my favorite stories of ECL - and there are so many - is the fact that we now own and have our Sunday services in the building that once housed the Bay Area Club in League City. The BAC (in its new location) is where I went to for my first meeting of AA. That is what I like to call a full circle redemption story.
Here is the bottom line. I have found a church who fully believes in the mission of "journeying together in God’s ongoing rescue of the oppressed." They live this mission in their service and study and community and by embracing all of the things that aren't very churchy about humanity. My friends, THIS is why I still love the Church. I believe that the world needs more of us to throw off the things that we think make us look churchy and get down to being the Church. And I think that will preach for a long time to come.
One of my favorite stories of ECL - and there are so many - is the fact that we now own and have our Sunday services in the building that once housed the Bay Area Club in League City. The BAC (in its new location) is where I went to for my first meeting of AA. That is what I like to call a full circle redemption story.
Here is the bottom line. I have found a church who fully believes in the mission of "journeying together in God’s ongoing rescue of the oppressed." They live this mission in their service and study and community and by embracing all of the things that aren't very churchy about humanity. My friends, THIS is why I still love the Church. I believe that the world needs more of us to throw off the things that we think make us look churchy and get down to being the Church. And I think that will preach for a long time to come.
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