Transitioning from SROM

It's been a crazy journey these past two and a half years.

Ryan and I started feeling the Lord whisper that it would soon be time to leave SROM several months ago. In my heart and mind, I thought that meant we'd be transitioning in about a year or so. As January progressed, the Lord made it clear that, no, next fall was not His timing. Nor was May (my next thought). I had all but settled on telling my director that I would be leaving at the end of March, but it was immediately clear that March was still delaying too long. So, last Friday I met with my director and let him know that I would be leaving SROM at the end of this month. My two weeks' notice.

On one level, I have a pretty good idea of what this next season is going to look like. I will be working part-time for a pregnancy care clinic in Laramie for March and April, and I will move to full-time there in May. 

On another level, I have an idea of what I'd like this next season to involve, but I have no idea what this new season will actually be like. 

The phrase that I've had jostling around in my over-crowded brain these past few weeks has been to look for the gold in the every-day. My appetite for reading has voraciously returned, and I've been re-discovering deep truths about God, people, and myself in the pages of Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. I've been listening to lyrics more intentionally, and been encouraged and surprised by how they resonate with me. I've been struck by the beauty of people. And I've been reminded of the tender grace of God to highlight these things in my life. It's not always easy for me to see the beauty of what's directly in front of me, but it's a discipline I want to regain.

So, bear with me, friends. This season will be a lot of working to see gold. It might be refined, it might be raw. I think it's pretty neat either way.

On Faithfulness

I was reading through a previous blog that I had started in college. This post was written while I was in a discipleship program in Upstate New York, and reflecting on the lessons that God was revealing to me through day-to-day circumstances. I found it to be both encouraging and convicting, so I'm reposting it here.

God's faithfulness is not measured in one life, it is measured in His remembrance of His covenants. He is faithful, but I think many of His mercies and gifts are mislabeled and assigned as indicators of His faithfulness. Much of my mentality stems from bad habits and a twisted perspective from which I am still being delivered. Grace is still a new concept for me, and I will probably be learning about it and consumed by curiosity with it for quite some time. But, because of the mentality I grew up with, I think it is necessary for me to distinguish between the two concepts of "faithfulness" and "mercy."

Mercy: compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm; an event to be grateful for, especially because its occurrence prevents something unpleasant or provides relief from suffering.

The small town I currently call my home depends largely on year-round tourism; the summers bring hikers and lakeside vacationers, the winters bring skiers and snowmobilers. Winters without snow mean decreased tourism and the whole town suffers to the extent that snow is brought up as a prayer request frequently during our church service. Is waking up to three inches of fresh powder a sign of God's faithfulness? As tempting as it is to immediately begin praising God for His faithfulness in bringing the much-needed snow, I think it's important to instead recognize an answer to prayer like this as a mercy.

Maybe I'm simply criticizing semantics, but I do think we run the risk of an entitled attitude if we think that God's faithfulness is revealed by whether or not He answers our personal prayer requests. God does care about the little 'non-essential' prayers of His people, but He is by no means bound to answer them according to our wishes in order to prove that He is faithful. When I thank God for His faithfulness in providing a community of Christ-centered people to live with, is my deeper attitude one of deserving the community? "God is doing a great job of staying on top of giving me the things I deserve. Thanks, God!" To be honest, I am sinful and prideful enough to believe that on some level I do deserve the day-to-day blessings of life, and that God is really just giving me the due rewards of living a 'Christian' life.

As I sit here writing, a friend came in and gave me a coffee he had bought for me while we are both on a work break. I hadn't asked for the coffee, but he wanted to bless me with a surprise. (I was blessed.) Is the coffee an indicator of his being a faithful friend? By no means! But say this friend and I had been working together for a few months, and say he took delight in surprising me with a cup of delicious coffee from the local coffee shop each day. I get used to the gift, and begin to expect it as a sort of unspoken agreement in our friendship. Is he an unfaithful friend if he on day decides not to get coffee? Am I justified in being put off because he didn't give me what I had come to expect? The coffee was a gift, and it is no less of a gift the hundredth time it is given than it is the first. All that changes is my perspective. Of course, this analogy will fall apart, but the scenario stops me short when I really ask myself if I would be as surprised and thankful for coffee in a few months as I am sipping it right now. I take far too much for granted. I am all too easily tempted into believing that we all deserve the sun each morning, and that God is just holding up His end of our 'unspoken agreement' in each sunrise or answered prayer.

I want to cultivate an attitude of thankfulness. I want to see each morning as a mercy, and not as something I somehow deserve. I'm still seeking understanding in recognizing God's faithfulness, and it will most likely pop up as another blog post in the future. Either that or Grace. I'm still pretty captivated by Grace.

On Bravery

"You make me brave. You make me brave. You call me out beyond the shore into the waves."

I was listening to this song on and off throughout the week at work, and it wasn't until yesterday that the thought struck me...what do I consider being brave? Listening to this song conjures images of radical acts of selflessness and courage in my mind - overseas missions, innercity missions, standing for the truth and facing real persecution. But what does being brave mean to me in my every day life?

Is it brave to love, support, and submit to my husband when we can't reach an agreement?

Is it brave to offer tea and a place to cry to a friend who has been hurt?

Is it brave to honor those in authority over me?

Is it brave to offer my best work each day at my 8-5 desk job?

Is it brave to love well?

Is it brave to act in obedience, even when I'm bitterly disappointed by giving something up?

Is it brave to raise a family and teach them to love Jesus and to obey His Word?

Is it brave to tithe faithfully?

Is it brave to persevere when I feel taken for granted?

Personally, I see great bravery in people in my life on a daily basis. Consistent, quiet, faithful bravery. I see bravery lived out without calling attention to itself. I see bravery lived out as people choose an intentional life in the face of a world that applauds the easy superficiality. I see my siblings choosing to be parents rather than buddies to their kids. I see my father choosing to work long hours with excellence and integrity. I see my mother choosing to speak hard truths with much love. I see my husband humbly acknowledging when he is wrong, and being willing to grow and change. I see my friends standing for truth in small things that seem easier to compromise. I see fierce love for the orphans, the widows, the outcast, the slandered, the wronged, the forgotten. I see great bravery all around me, most of it stemming from obedience to the One who calls us to live a life that is radically different from the world around us.

What life am I cultivating?

There's recently been a lot of intriguing online press regarding social media and the effect it can have on identity. Whether positive or negative, it seems that no one contests that social media has an effect. For most, that effect is often on self-perception or self-promotion.

I am not going to clamor and assert that social media is inherently anything, good or bad. It is a tool. Tools can be used wisely, tools can be used foolishly. But we cannot blame the tools for how we use them.

My conviction lies more in how I myself use social media, and what life I cultivate. Am I pouring more time and effort into curating an image and cultivating a life online? Or am I spending my time, resources, and energies to pour into the lives of people around me? Am I staging pictures to portray an image of life, happiness, and harmony? Or am I working on relationships with people around me to cultivate connection, truth, and joy? Which is more important to me: experiencing the moment, or capturing a moment? Am I filled with joy by the things I see on my friends' posts, or am I filled with jealousy? 

I often don't have answers to these questions. More often than not, I don't like the answers to these questions when I'm truly honest with myself. But I want to cultivate a life characterized by real connection with real people in real day-to-day life. Much like life, it's a process. The end result isn't a stellar collection of pictures, it's a life lived with intention and presence. 

"Not in My Backyard"

I've seen this phrase tossed around a bit regarding stances on refugees, and I don't understand why people are so offended by it. I wholeheartedly agree. Have people in my backyard? No. Absolutely not. That would be utterly ridiculous.

It's cold out there. What if you're a family with little kids? There are no lights out there to turn on in case they get scared of the dark. Not to mention that there isn't much room in three squares of cement, and cement is no place for you to sleep.

Come into my home.

Come into my home and stay with us. Sleep on our bed, use our kitchen, use our towels, use whatever you need, whatever you'd like. What do you need? If we don't have it, we'll get it. Teach me how to cook your favorite foods, and don't worry about paying for the groceries. Teach me about who you are, what you love, what you're passionate about, what makes you laugh. Teach me about your country, and please have patience and grace for me in my ignorance. Let me laugh with you; let me cry with you. (Fair warning, I cry pretty easily.) Please let us share what we have with you. It's not much, but it would be our great privilege to share it with you.

If you ask me if I've believed all of the vitriolic rhetoric surrounding refugees, I'll tell you honestly that I did at first; that I still fight the shadows of doubts and fears and prejudices. I will ask for your forgiveness with tears in my eyes, because I am truly sorry for allowing fear to be my first response. But I want to learn how to be driven by love and compassion. I'll tell you that I was scared to open my home to people I don't know. But I don't want my fear to be bigger than my love. I'll tell you that, at my core, I battle with extreme selfishness, greed, and fear, and I need to kill those impulses daily. I'll tell you that I still have so much to learn about love, and that opening my home is a chance to learn more about sacrificial love. I want to learn how to love in practical, specific ways...not simply in abstract ideals.

If you ask me then why I've opened my home and my life to you even though I was afraid, I will gladly tell you about the One who owns everything I have and everything I am. The One who gave me everything I have so I could share it with you. The One who gently teaches me that my love should be bigger than my fear. The One who promises that no matter what happens on this earth, in this nation, in this family, in this home, to the people I love more than words can express...He holds the eternal future. The One who loves you, and who weeps with you. He's too big for my words to express, and I hope my actions do more justice when my words fail.

If you don't want to ask, if you just need to be listened to, if you just need a quiet, safe space, come into my home. But please, not in my backyard. It's cold out there.

Life Lessons from Trudy: Hospitality

Ryan and I had the immense pleasure of hosting some good friends from Illinois as they passed through Laramie on their way to climb Devils Tower. We had six road-weary and stoke-heavy climbers in our apartment, and I couldn't have been happier about it. 

Chess, vinyl, and 007 on N64. Life is very good.

I love hosting people. I love having people over, making food, and planning adventures. Heck, I even love cleaning the apartment before people get there. (Seriously. Ask Ryan.) I love creating a space for people to rest in. It's a way in which I can care for people, and I love to love people. More and more, I find that I like to host people because I feel like Ryan and I have been given so much, and I want to give back.

I have always been tongue-in-cheek when I've said that one of my mother's primary spiritual gifts is hospitality. But now that I have my own space within which to create a home, I'm not so sure it's as flippant of a statement as I initially thought. All growing up I remember Trudy effortlessly, gracefully, and warmly inviting people into home. It was our home, but it was also home for anyone and everyone who needed a home. Sure, there was often a lot of work involved in preparing a place for people, but she found joy in that as simply another part of caring for people. It wasn't a chore for her to stay up late the night before Thanksgiving to make sure that there was enough food for all of the college students who couldn't travel home for the holiday; it was a lot of work, but it was never a chore. Trudy cared for people so much that it was a privilege for her to get to serve them, no matter the cost to herself. And she never, ever made others feel the weight of the work to prepare for their arrival. She never pressured people to enjoy themselves at the risk of offending her. She simply created a place for people, and invited them in to be themselves.

At it's heart, hospitality isn't about having the right pillows or towels or decor. It's not about having the house sparkling clean and neatly organized. It's not about showing off Suzie Homemaker skills. Hospitality is about caring for people. It's a privilege and an act of worship, because I truly believe that God is glorified when we love and care for others.

So, Trudy...thank you for setting that Godly example growing up. Thank you for the way you taught me to love people. Thank you for teaching me to share what I have, even when it doesn't feel like much. Thank you for teaching me how to delight in the details of serving people. Thank you for showing me that serving people is a privilege and a joy. Thank you for teaching me that hospitality is more about what people feel than what they see. Thank you for the way you love people as an act of worship and thanksgiving to God. I am thankful for you, and I am doing my best to do what you taught me!

On Joy

This draft has been sitting on my heart for a few weeks. It's vulnerable for me to write about hard things, and it's easy for me to worry over who this might be forwarded on to. But hard things are real, and real things can lead to deep lessons, and deep lessons are worth sharing. Right? So, here's my heart.

The past few weeks I've been thinking quite a bit about Joy. I'll admit that this season of life for me has been discouraging. I've been feeling tired, discouraged, accused, distrusted, burdened, and weary. I'm so weary. I think only recently I've realized how worn down I've become. But in the midst of this heaviness, I'm grateful for moments of refreshment and restoration. I've felt rebuilt and restored as I've gotten to meet up with old friends and new family. I've had sweet times on sunny porches that wind up with confessions of hurt that lead to healing tears. I've been able to laugh from my toes while sharing salsa and seltzer with dear women in my life here. I've glowed with the feeling of being so loved with kisses on the temple for no reason whatsoever. I've been reminded of the beauty of autumn colors: deep, rich, muted golds and greens and maroons. I've felt at peace in the wilderness, and I've been reminded of the ways God speaks to me there. I've been reminded of how much I love writing and reading words. I've snuggled up with old and new friends with s'mores around a fire. I've been working on engaging in spontaneous time with friends, and been surprised by how easy it can be to enjoy moments that aren't scheduled (this is big for me). I've become more and more grateful for my husband and the patient love he shows me each day. I milked a goat. (See? Spontaneity.) I've learned new games and been reminded of old favorites. I've taken small risks and have received sweet joys.


I've been so hungry for community, but hesitant to seek it for a lot of different reasons. There are large parts of my heart that are still sore from recent experiences, and the temptation is to let those parts harden. And, if I'm honest with myself, I can see that I've let those parts harden to some measure because I've given up on community for the past few months. I haven't been seeking community, and I've been slowly hardening the parts of my heart that have been hurt. Not in an antagonistic, angry, or bitter way, but definitely in a defensive measure to protect my heart. 

But even as I try to close myself off, God is rescuing me from myself and from these reclusive tendencies. He's been sending me reminders of joy and healing my perspective of community through...community. There is something so deeply necessary about friendship without an agenda. I am being reminded of how to participate in relationship without looking for or assuming an agenda in the other person, and I'm finding such healing and joy in the process. I've said before that we experience celebration to the degree that we experience grief, and I'm learning how applicable that core thought is across relationships as well: I can only heal to the degree that I am vulnerable, as hard as that vulnerability might feel after being hurt. The sweetness of Joy is so strengthening in heavy times, but I can only experience the joy of community to the degree that I'm willing to be vulnerable. 

I am still very much in the process of learning these lessons, and of being able to (or willing to) articulate them to others. But I think they're worth looking into.

Maundy Thursday

Lent is my favorite season in the liturgical calendar. I love the extended time to focus on the life, ministry, and death of Christ. And I love the anticipation that it builds toward celebrating the Resurrection! It can be such a beautiful season of fasting, grieving, and thorough celebration.

To be honest, this season of Lent hasn't felt very focused for me. Ryan and I were out of town for nearly every weekend in March, which put our search for a church home in Laramie on hold for a bit longer than we were expecting. In addition to that, work at SROM has been incredibly full and a little overwhelming for me at times. It's been a hard season to focus! But I'm realizing that I am thankful for two things: one, that my salvation is not based on whether or not I can keep myself focused and fasting for forty days. And, two, that there is still time to experience some of the richness of this season! God is so good like that, isn't He? To remind us of things that we've distracted ourselves from in enough time to still get to experience them! What a gift!

I pray that in this weekend is a time of rest and reflection. I pray for the grace to sit at the feet of my Lord and meditate on His sacrifice. I pray for a deeper understanding of the Resurrection, and an overwhelming joy and celebration on Sunday!
 

Jehovah Jireh

"Jehovah Jireh

My Provider

His grace is sufficient for me"

 

Ryan and I were in San Fransisco last week for his brother's wedding (which was spectacular!) and then spent the next few days exploring. We were so grateful to get to spend time with his family in California, and we couldn't be happier for Eric and Jenn! 

(my best man)

After the wedding on Saturday, we spent the next Sunday and Monday hanging out with his family and exploring local vineyards, olive oil presses, and the bay area of San Fransisco. We got a little taste of California's redwoods on Monday morning, which got us even more excited for Yosemite! We made it to the park on Tuesday evening, and even squeezed in a little hike after setting up camp Tuesday night. (We probably could have hiked for longer if I hadn't stopped so often to gape at the gorgeous views and take pictures of everything.)

 

Wednesday we hiked up the Mist Trail to Vernal and Nevada falls. We stopped for lunch at the top of Nevada Falls, and reconsidered our options for the rest of the day. Though we had initially thought of just hiking to the waterfalls, we changed our itinerary and decided to continue on the Muir Trail up to Glacier Point. It was a long, hot, dry hike, but the views were absolutely spectacular. The hike up the Panorama Trail gave us an incredible perspective, and we could see Half Dome, all of Vernal and Nevada Falls, and Illilouette Falls. From Glacier Point, we could see nearly the entire valley. It was well worth the 16+ miles and staggering back to camp after dark!

 

We slept in on Thursday morning, packed up camp, did a few quick (paved) trails to Lower Yosemite Falls and Bridal Veil Falls, and said goodbye to Yosemite. We had been hoping to spend some time in the Tahoe National Forest, but realized that it would take us way further out of our way than we had initially planned for. So we stopped at Lake Tahoe for a few hours instead!

Representing SROM at Lake Tahoe!

We drove across most of Nevada on Friday, and stopped for dinner in the little town of Wendover, just west of the Salt Flats of Utah. When we got back on the one-way section of I-80 after dinner, the dreaded engine light came on and the engine gauge indicated that we were in danger of overheating. We pulled over, popped the hood, and let the engine cool down a bit. Ryan checked the coolant levels and we were completely dry...it had sprayed out and was leaking out the bottom of the car. Thankfully we had filled up our water bottles before we had left that morning, so we had plenty of water to use until we could make it to a gas station (54 miles away) for coolant. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that easy. We started driving again, and almost immediately had to pull over again. The engine was still indicating dangerously high temperatures. As it turns out, the radiator hose had separated from the radiator, and all of our water had drained out. We had the Jeep towed to a local mechanic in Wendover and booked a hotel for the night. After the mechanic had taken a look at it, he showed Ryan and I that it wasn't as simple as replacing the radiator hose; the piece of the radiator that connects to the hose had completely melted off, and we would need to replace the entire radiator. He said he had found one at the local junkyard that seemed like it would work, and that he still would probably be able to get us on the road by closing time (3:00pm). If the one from the junkyard couldn't work, the mechanic said he could order one and have it in Wendover by Tuesday. (Tuesday!!)

(there's just something poetic about being broken down in the desert)

Long story short, the junkyard radiator was just different enough that it couldn't work. Ryan and I rented a car, drove to Salt Lake City, and searched for a radiator there. The parts store that had initially said they had the correct radiator had the same model as the junkyard: no good for us. We finally found a usable radiator in the little town of Toole, and made it back to Wendover at around 4:00pm. The mechanic (who I now believe is a chain-smoking angel on earth) stayed late in order to get the radiator in our Jeep and get us on the road!

As we were (finally) driving back to Wyoming, I had a lot of time to think about God and His provision. Jehovah Jireh, my Provider. God provided a radiator and a skilled (and generous) mechanic for us in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada! But that is not what makes God my Provider. 

God is my Provider because He has provided an atonement for my sin and a way back to restored relationship with Him. As the season of Lent draws to a close, I'm so grateful for this reminder! Yes, God has and continues to provide for Ryan and I. On a very tangible level, I get to continue to work at SROM because God provides financial support for me each and every month! But I think I can get too used to the idea that God provides what I think I need on a day-to-day basis, and I forget that the greatest demonstration of His provision is first and foremost that He provided a way for this sinner to return to Him. If we had been stuck in Wendover for a year, God would still be Provider. If all of my monthly financial support stopped today, God would still be Provider. If all of my perceived needs were never met again, God would still be Provider.

It's a hard concept for me to wrestle around in my mind. I confess, I think I've become comfortable. I've become accustomed to having enough to eat and a safe place to live; I'm accustomed to having my basic needs met. And while I absolutely recognize that it is all from God's hand that these things come, I'm tempted to base my understanding of His provision on whether or not my needs are being met. As Ryan and I were searching for a radiator, I confess being a little frustrated with God: "Why haven't You provided one yet? Are You going to provide in my timing, or am I going to have to figure this one out myself?" I began to wane in my trust of His provision because I was too narrowly focused on the here and now. Jehovah Jireh, my Provider. His grace is sufficient for me. His grace is sufficient for me.

His grace is sufficient for me. In His grace, He provided a perfect Savior for me. If I don't see that as enough, I am woefully underestimating my own sinfulness and His righteousness.

Lord, You are my Provider. You provided a way where there was none. You provided a perfect sacrifice through Jesus, and You provide grace for each day. Thank You. And thank You for little day-to-day reminders of Your total provision. You are so Good. You are so Good to me.

On Valentines

Remember back in elementary school when you would bring in enough Valentines treats for everyone in your class, and everyone got candy taped to red cards with your name scrawled in purple or pink crayon? I think we should bring those days back. Those were great times...especially because the most common candies to distribute were Reese's, and Reese's are delicious.

I did some brief research on St. Valentine (VERY brief...as in I looked him up on Wikipedia and crossed my fingers hoping that it hadn't been 'revised' past all truth) and found an interesting note. According to Wikipedia, "the name "Valentine" derived from valens (worthy, strong, powerful)." (Full disclosure: I did do some minor punctuation edits to that quote.)

"Worthy, strong, powerful." I like that a heck of a lot better than the images usually conjured by Valentine's Day...images of pinks and reds and fuzzy baby animals blushing and blowing kisses to one another. (Not that those things are inherently bad, they're just not my thing.) "Worthy," "strong," and "powerful" are all words that I want to characterize my life and my love.

How do we love worthily? What does it mean to have a strong, powerful love? What does it mean to love like Jesus did? (I don't know, which is why I'm asking.)

I have been finding that love looks differently each time; that each person, each situation, each season needs a different expression of love than the last. Love focuses on the need at present, even if that need isn't immediately apparent. Thus, there is no one answer to the question of how to love in a manner that is worthy, strong, and powerful; in order for love to be worthy, strong, and powerful, it must be focused on the Loved rather than on the Lover's desire to love the 'right' way.

I want to live a life of worthy, strong, powerful love. But the only true Source of that kind of love that I can find is in Jesus. The only way I can hope to live that kind of love is by first and foremost receiving that love anew each day (each moment of each day), and through loving Jesus by loving those He loves. 

So, in this season of life, as I fondly remember pre-printed, perforated cardstock, glossy Valentine's cards, please know that I am thinking of all of you. I have a deep love you all of you that is sourced by the One who is Love. He loves you so much more than a Valentine could ever communicate, because He loves you more truly, worthily, strongly, and powerfully than we can ever imagine. And we are invited on a journey to explore that love, and share that love with each person in front of us. 

May we live and love in a manner that truly reflects that kind of love.

Justice is not my Savior

"When through grace in Christ our trust is,

Justice smiles and asks no more."

-- John Newton, Let Us Love and Sing and Wonder

All too often I find myself putting my faith and hope in Justice. I expect the scales to be blind and unbiased, and yet I expect Justice to be on my side. I expect Justice to agree with me and to help me determine my morality. I want Justice to direct me, guide me, and gently correct me when I err. I want Justice to be swift when I feel wronged, but slow to anger against me when I have a good excuse.

The problem with this is that Justice does none of those things. Justice does not gently correct, it demands an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Justice does not determine my morality, unless my morality is to do only that for which I am rewarded and avoid doing that for which I will be punished. Justice--true Justice--shows no favoritism, holds no record of past merits to bail one out of present infractions; Justice can show no partiality, no grace, and will not acknowledge extenuating circumstances.

If I turn to Justice as my savior, Justice rightly condemns me before a perfect God. If I turn to Justice as my savior, I am bitterly disappointed because of the evil I see in this world. Justice isn't big enough to be my savior.

My Savior is Just, but He is also Grace, Patience, and Love. My Savior is firm in His correction, but He is also gentle. My Savior is Good, and He is eternal. He will bring Justice, but He has first extended His hand in friendship. My Savior loves and seeks the orphan, the widow, the downtrodden, the hurting; my Savior loves and seeks me. My Savior trusts me to seek others on His behalf. My Savior is my true and lasting hope. My Savior is forgiving. My Savior is my Guide, and He sticks with me even when I ignore His direction and cry out against the consequences of my stubborn choices. My Savior shows me how to extend grace, patience, and love to those that I would rather throw at the feet of Justice.

My Savior is not a doormat. He will not tolerate the injustice of this world for long. He will come and He will set things right in His kingdom. My Savior is strong, and He is fierce. He has all authority in Heaven and on Earth, and He will come in power to exercise it. 

And yet, my Savior waits. He waits so that He may cover yet more people with His righteousness before He comes wielding true Justice. He waits so that more may joyfully sing, 'when through grace in Christ our trust is, Justice smiles and asks no more.' 

And so I am torn between the two: I desire for Christ to come in glory, which is better by far. But He deems it more necessary for us that He waits. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you to know Him and make Him known.

Fullness

My life is messy. It is not perfect. It is not glamorous. In the virtual world of curated social media, my life is not even that photogenic. But, little by little, I'm learning how to live a full life.

My life is full. It is filled with working at a job that I love. It is filled with celebrating the little victories and little wins that happen every week. It is filled with hot beverages. It is filled with quiet moments on the couch. It is filled with laundry and cleaning and endless dishes. It is filled with joy. It is filled with music. It is filled with laughter and smiles and tears and silence. It is filled with empty journals. My life is filled with eye contact. It is filled with small talk and big talk. It is filled with editing. It is filled with grocery shopping and recipe hunting. It is filled with unhealthy comparison. It is filled with tender moments. My life is filled with words, both written and spoken. It is filled with doubt and questions. My life is filled with hugs. It is filled with staring blankly into space. It is filled with ambition that needs direction. It is filled with people. It is a messy, imperfect life. And it is full of love. 

Mine is a life in progress. I don't have all the answers, and I probably never will, but I'm learning to articulate the things I know and to appreciate the perspective that experience gives me. I'm learning to change the things I don't like, and make myself aware of the things I do like. I'm learning again to be disciplined - personally, professionally, and spiritually. I'm learning to stop comparing my life to others I see, and to make this life be the kind that I want to live. And I'm learning how to let people into the messiness and unfinished-ness.

On Receiving Love

"Love is the expression of the one who loves, not of the one who is loved.  Those who think they can love only the people they prefer do not love at all.  Love discovers truths about individuals that others cannot see."

-Soren Kierkegaard 

A coworker shared this quote with me several months ago, and I've had it posted on my desk for so long that I have ceased to notice it's there.  Thankfully it stuck in my brain enough to be recalled the past few days as I've been thinking about love and newly-wedded bliss.

Last night Ryan and I celebrated our first month of marriage, and even though it's been only one month I have realized quite a bit about myself...particularly how difficult it is for me to simply receive love.  Ryan is a very patient man and very good at reminding me that he loves me for who I am, not for the things I do.  His love for me is reassuring because I know him to be a consistent, faithful, man.  The more I know him, the more I can trust his love.  

If Kierkegaard is right about love (and he generally knew what he was talking about), love is an expression more than it is a reflection.  Ryan's love for me is an expression of who he is, not a reflection of who I am.  The more I learn about who Ryan is, the way he lives day-to-day life, the little quirks that make him who he is, the more I learn about how he loves me.  Additionally, the more I get to know Ryan, the more he is able to teach me how to love him.  (There is always a small part of me that worries that I'm not doing enough to let him know how much I love him, how interested in him I am, or how much I want to learn more about him.  I want to know him better because I want to love him better because I already love him so much!)

Because marriage is a metaphor for how Christ loves the Church, and because I tend to learn best in metaphors, I extrapolate much in regards to my relationship with Christ from my marriage.  It's always been difficult for me to receive the unconditional, priceless grace and love of God.  For a long time I lived under self-imposed pressure to prove to God how much I loved Him and how much I valued His grace and mercy.  To be honest, I didn't really understand His heart and what He desires of us, so I was unable to receive His love or truly love Him back.  But God's love for me is an expression of who he is, not a reflection of who I am.  God loves me perfectly, purely, constantly because He is Perfect, Pure, and Constant.  If I want to get to know God more (which I do!) I need to begin by letting go of my preconceived notions of who He is and learn about who He actually is through His love.

1 John  4:7-12 gives us a glimpse into this mystery:

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.  Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.  Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.  This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.  This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.  Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.  No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

"No one has ever seen God: but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us."  We learn more about who God is by expressing His love to others in our lives.  And, in so doing, that Love changes us and is "made complete in us."

I wish I understood this better.  The more I wrestle with this concept of love, the more I realize that I don't get it.  In order to understand God more, I need to receive His love more fully...but in order to receive His love more fully, I need to first express that love to others?  Or is it that in seeking to love others that I learn more about who God is because I understand the nature of His love better as I realize that He is much better at loving the unlovable than I am?  Is it in realizing my own shortcomings of love that I realize the vast perfection of His love?  All of the above?

Am I really surprised that I'm realizing how little I know about love after a month of being married?  Nope.  Just scratching the surface.  But I am excited to continue to learn about the connection between giving and receiving love and how it informs the "discovery of truths about individuals that others cannot see."  And I am thankful that I have a very patient husband and an infinitely more patient Savior to take this journey with me.

Obedience Without an Agenda

Last weekend I was flipping through Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest, one of my absolute favorite devotionals.  One of the ideas that jumped out to me was exposed the mentality that if I hear God and I obey His calling, He will make me successful.  God's ultimate purpose in giving me a command must be my success, right?  (Or, if the concept of "success" has negative connotations, I can easily substitute "fruitfulness."  God's ultimate purpose in giving me a command must be my fruitfulness, right?)

I think this expectation is much more present in my life than I realize.  I am willing to take great risks for God because of the underlying assumption that success or 'fruit' is on the immediate other side.  "Lord, you want me to move out to Wyoming to work without a salary for a non-profit outdoor ministry?  Awesome!!  You must have a ton of immediately-gratifying work for me to do!"  It sometimes works that way, and it's great when it does!  The problem is that I quickly expect things to always be that way.  I grow frustrated and feel unfulfilled when my obedience to God doesn't lead to me feeling immediately happy, successful, or useful.

God is concerned with our holiness, not simply our fruitfulness.  Fruit overflows from holiness, but it can never be the other way around.  Fruit produced by my own strength or for my own agenda quickly rots.

There are a lot of strong commands regarding bearing fruit in Jesus' teachings (Matthew 3:10, Matthew 7:16-20, Matthew 21:43, Luke 3:8-9, etc.), so I don't want to belittle the importance of bearing good fruit.  I recognize that it is so important to "let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds [good fruit] and glorify your Father in heaven."  (Matthew 5:16)  Fruit is important! but it is not the most important.  Jesus gives us a sobering reminder in John 15: "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. [...] Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."  (ESV)  I've written on this before, but it is still something I so quickly forget:

God calls us to obedience so that we may abide with Him.  It is through our abiding with Him that He brings about holiness in our lives.

Obedience is the means to the end of intimacy with our Savior, our Lord, our King.  Fruitfulness or success can never be our ultimate end for obedience.  If fruitfulness or success is the end that I'm seeking, I've made fruit the object of my worship...my idol.  I've focused more on my sacrifice than the One to whom I offer it.  I'm more concerned with what I think the Lord wants than with patiently waiting and continuing with faithful obedience, regardless of how long it takes for Him to reveal His purposes.

Are we really so foolish that we can think to manipulate the Almighty by obeying Him with our own agenda in our hearts?  "God, I will obey You so that You can bring about the results I desire."  Lord, teach me to obey You without an agenda!  Teach me to obey You with a heart that desires intimacy with You above all else.  Give me a heart that rejoices in fruit, but that does not turn to the fruit for satisfaction and affirmation.  Give me a craving for intimacy with You that leads to holiness; guard me from feeling that fruit entitles me to holiness or intimacy with You.  It is by Grace alone that I can abide with You.  Thank You for Your Grace!

Seasons of Transitions

I am a creature of habit.  I like routine, I like consistency, I'm comfortable with predictability.  Don't get me wrong, I like spontaneity!  But I want to know when it's going to happen and how much emotional energy it's going to occupy.  What can I say?  I'm my father's daughter.

I think sometimes I trick myself into thinking that the rest of the world stays mostly static, and it throws me off when I realize that it's not just the seasons that change with time.  People grow and change as much as (and more than!) the leaves on the trees or weather patterns.  If we didn't, I'd still have to stand on a chair in order to reach the kitchen table.

Moving from one season of life to the next always means saying goodbyes of some sort.  In growing up we have to say goodbye to the way of life that we once knew.  We have to say goodbye to familiar ways of relating to those around us, because saying goodbye to old relational dynamics allows those relationships to grow and change and mature.  If those dynamics didn't ever change, I would still see my parents only as authority figures and I would be missing out on the rich friendship I get to enjoy with them now!

When I moved to Wyoming, I had to say goodbye to all of the familiarity that I knew at home and embrace a lot of change in every sphere of life.  Even in relationships that were (and are) still present and thriving in my life, I had to embrace change in regards to what those relationships look like.  

Our relationship with God is as dynamic and changing as our relationships with one another.  He never changes, but He does bring us into deeper understandings of His love for us and His plans for us.  The ways I relate to God now are much deeper and richer now than they were in junior high, high school, or college.  I pray that my relationship with God would continue to deepen, and that 20 years from now I would look back on this time and see exponential growth!  How can I experience that growth and change if I cling more tightly to the familiar patterns than I do to Him?  My tendency is to trust the familiar, and be wary of the new.  But if I never trust new ways of knowing God, how can I step out in faith and see His hand move in my life?  (This is something I am very much still processing!)

In each new season of change, I've learned to trust that God will provide for me.  I think it's much easier for me to trust God's provision in tangible ways than it is to trust Him in regards to my relationship with Him.  (I recognize how backwards this is.)  Seeing His hand in the one should lead me to greater trust in the other...and I think that's what's happening in this season of life.

Lord, give me the grace to trust You and trust the ways that You are leading me closer to Your heart.  Guard me from a false perspective or understanding of You.  Guard me from trusting the familiar more than I trust You.  Thank You for Your patience with me!!

Something Worth Celebrating

I was fortunate enough to spend all last week back at my parents' house in Illinois.  I spend wonderful time playing with my nieces and holding my (enormous) 8-month-old nephew; I got to see the house my sister and brother-in-law recently bought; I had a few precious times of video chatting with my Grandpa John in Florida; I celebrated with good friends at a wedding; and we celebrated Christ's resurrection at an Easter Vigil on Saturday night.  It was absolutely wonderful to get to spend so much time with family and friends, and to get to experience springtime in the Midwest.  (I forgot how green everything becomes!!  Laramie's biggest source of green at the moment are the pine trees and store awnings.)

There are a few very important lessons I learned while I was at home:

1.  No one, not even Idina Menzel, can sing "Let it Go" as passionately as a 3-year-old.

2.  Coffee ground for a drip machine should never, ever be used in a French Press.

3.  When hiding Easter eggs for toddlers, never give them the benefit of the doubt: "hide" the eggs in absolutely obvious plain sight.  And stand next to the ones that might be partially obscured and give hints like "Have you smelled these flowers?  They smell like chocolate!"

4.  I wouldn't trade my family in for all the creme eggs in the world.

It hit me this past week at several moments that Christ's resurrection is truly something worth celebrating.  It is the resurrection that gives us hope and peace in the face of death.  It is the resurrection that gives us the ability to endure suffering with grace.  It is the resurrection that gives us joy in life because we don't fear death.  Death doesn't win; death doesn't get the final word.

My family and I are facing the imminent passing of my Grandpa John, and it's been hard to see him suffer so much pain as he rapidly declines.  My mom reminded me last night that this is what God was trying to protect us from in the Garden: we were never meant to experience the pain and grief that comes with dying and watching loved ones die.  By the same token, this is the victory Christ won over Death!  This is the victory of the resurrection.  This pain and grief serves to remind us that this is not our home, but that through Christ we are headed home.

Grandpa John is an amazing man who is so ready to see the King he has faithfully loved and served during his life.  He has set a foundation of faith for our family, and I know that I am living in the blessing of that foundation.  It is the resurrection that gives my family and I the ability to celebrate my grandpa's life, even as we mourn his soon passing.  As my aunt phrased it, "he is almost to the Gate, and it's beautiful."  Thank you Lord for the life of this incredible man.

If there is anything worth celebrating, it is the resurrection.  Alleluia, Christ is Risen indeed.

Trail Life

As a staff we've been reading through a book called Changes that Heal and talking a lot about healthy self-awareness.  I'll admit, I was skeptical of the book at first.  But it has sparked some really good discussions during our chapter debriefs each week, and there's been a lot of good content!

The chapter we read this past week led to a discussion on self-awareness and self-analysis, and how we can often be tempted to lean only on ourselves for self-understanding.  (By the way, there are several philosophers who have dissected this topic, much more eloquently and thoroughly than I could ever hope to...read through Levinas, Derrida, Gadamer, Heidegger, Husserl, etc. and their thoughts on Phenomenology and "the Other.")  I thought about the parallels between figuring out who I am in the context of community and when I need to figure out where I am when I'm reading a map on the trail.

Above is a topographic map of one of the areas in which we lead courses over the summer.  It takes the right perspective to be able to translate that green and white map with squiggly brown lines and be able to accurately see where you are on the map when what you see in front of you on the trail looks more like this:

That's a picture taken by a friend of mine during my first course with SROM as we were hiking in the Wind River Range.  (I know, it's gorgeous.  Even looking at it now, I can't believe it's real and that I got to stare at it while I ate my dinner that night.)  This is Squaretop Mountain...you can find it on the map above in the lower middle leftish.  The tricky part about reading maps is that you can't ever rely on only one feature (a mountain, ridge, lake, river, etc...something that's not likely to completely change a whole lot over time) to tell you where you are.  Unless you're exceedingly familiar with the area in which you're traveling, you can't accurately determine your location based on one point.  For example, based on the perspective of the picture above, can you figure out where on the map the picture was taken?  You can't do it based on looking at Squaretop alone, you have to take into consideration the mountains to the right in the picture and the field in which you're standing.  

In orienteering, we use a method called "triangulation" to help determine more accurately where you are on a map.  The basics of it involve looking first to see what features you can determine around you...you have to see where you actually are first.  A common mistake is to try and first focus on the map and project what you see on the map onto the features around you.  Instead of looking around at where you actually are and seeing a large, square mountain in front of you, a field around you, and a set of mountains to your right, there is the temptation to look at the map first and find things on the map that might possibly resemble what you see around you.  The danger here is that, rather than getting an accurate picture of where you are, you're trying to force where you want to be or where you think you are on the map to be the reality of where you are.  "Based on the map, we should see this feature which....uh...could be that over there...."

Triangulation, when done incorrectly, will let you lead yourself further and further away from where you want to be with the utmost confidence in yourself.  However, when done correctly, triangulation will give you a pretty accurate idea of where you are on the map, it can help you plan out the path of least resistance, and can help you prepare to be expecting as you move forward.  

In a similar way, God puts us in community to give us an accurate picture of who we are and where He would like us to be going.  I'm not saying that we should all go out and get analyzed by every single person in our community, but I have found a lot of benefit in getting to know and be truly known by two or three close friends...people that are solid and are not likely to completely change a whole lot over time.  People who are willing to help me get an accurate picture of my strengths, my weaknesses, my successes, my failures, my gifts and abilities, my temptations and shortcomings, and how to continue to grow into becoming a woman after God's own heart who walks in the freedom of knowing that she is Beloved of the Lord.  As much as I might prefer to trust my own intuition and my own self-analysis, that would be tantamount to walking into an unknown wilderness area and trusting in my "gut" to lead me to a good, safe path.  (Spoiler alert: that is how people get lost in the mountains and die.)  

I need a map and compass in the wilderness.  I need to actually use and pay attention to the map.  I need to know how to use the map and compass correctly.  And when I don't know how to do those things, I need to seek perspective from people in my group who are much better at reading maps than I am.  I need to seek perspective from people in my group who are familiar with the territory in which we're traveling.  If we're diligent in learning from where we've been and we're accurate in our assessment of where we are, we will get to go to some pretty incredible places together.