a Reformation post: why I think Martin was missional.

I’ve had an interesting relationship toward Martin Luther.  From being brought up in a family that is half Roman Catholic, to going to a university that seemed to over-elevate Martin at times, I’ve wrestled with how to healthily appreciate Luther as a contributor to our Church and also just another dude in need of saving.  Only in recent years has my affinity for Luther grown, as I’ve seen the richness of what he stood for and how I think it translates to where we are today.  Dare I say it…I think Luther would be considered missional (actively engaged in God’s mission of seeking and saving the lost) and here’s why.

1. He rediscovered the Gospel in Scripture.  Luther rediscovered and refocused the eyes of the Church to the pure Gospel that we are saved by grace through faith, not by anything we could or could not do.  Congregations and movements that are run by and filled with humans can often unintentionally add practices or expectations to what it means to be saved or part of God’s Church.  Luther gets to the heart of things.  It’s not about anything we could or could not contribute.  The Gospel is Christ.  Salvation is a gift.  The rest falls into place from there.  It’s found in the Scriptures and he could not be moved from it.  Nor should we.
   
2.  He started hard conversations with honest intentions.  I shared with our campus community this week that the Wittenberg Door was one of the original and most powerful forms of social media.  Luther had questions and insights and wanted to start a conversation, so he nailed his 95 theses to the door of the church.  It was not for the sake of stirring the pot, but for the sake of further understanding and correction.  Are we willing to ask questions even when we’re not sure how our audience will respond?  Are we willing to give ear to the hard questions of others and wrestle along with them as Philip did with the Ethiopian?  Are our intentions pure in the conversations we seek to have or is it motivated by pride or shaming someone else?
   
3. He was about putting Scripture in the language of the people.  Luther saw the power of God’s Word.  He experienced the peace and confidence it brought in his own life.  He saw that it held the truth and wanted to be sure everyone had that gift.  Faith comes by hearing.  How do we hear (or read) the Good News if it’s in a different language?  Luther was passionate.  We can’t expect all of Germany, from princes to peasants, to suddenly know and read Latin.  We must give them God’s Word in their language.  We must ask ourselves, is our ministry more apt to organize Latin classes in our building or start translating German to take to the streets?
   
   
4. He was about putting worship in the language of the people.  What a powerful statement and gift to our Church, that many would be able to hear God’s Word and worship with meaning in their own tongue.  This challenges me to think in a mighty way.  What’s the language of the people today?  It’s not the same everywhere, but we have the freedom and the challenge to put Scriptural worship in the language and context of the people we are among.  In the Epitome of the Formula of Concord, (X. Church Rites, Affirmative Thesis 2), our own doctrine gives and embraces huge freedom to bless our people with worship that is useful and edifying as we gather around Scripture, prayer, and Sacrament.
   
         We believe, teach, and confess that the congregation of God of every place and every time has the power, according to its circumstances, to change such ceremonies in such manner as may be most useful and edifying to the congregation of God.
   
   What does it mean for us to stand strong in the Word of God and faithful teaching, while putting worship in the language of the people?
   
   
5.       He loved the Church enough to wrestle.  Luther could have easily left the ministry, left the Church, and said “forget it.”  He was not looking to start his own church, but loved her so much, he sought to work within her, realign her, and hold her accountable.  My generation is especially notorious for just tossing broken things aside, especially institutions.  I confess that I am guilty of that as well.  There are many times I have considered throwing in the towel because of the brokenness on display in the Church.  But then we see in Scripture, this incredible love Christ has for his broken Bride.  It’s the goofy relative, that we all would like to disown, but we love deeply because they’re family.  I am called to be part of this Bride--warts and all.  And it is because I, too, am among the broken, in need of a Savior.  We walk together justified, being sanctified, and sharpening one another by the truth of God's Word.
   
6.       He accepted that there will be consequences to standing boldly.  I’ve always thought it to be incredible that Luther never intended to start a movement, split the Church, or start a new denomination.  He only wished to refocus the Church he loved so dearly.  It is a powerful reminder to us that as we stand boldly for God’s Word in a subjective culture, there will be push back.  As we ask hard questions of a church we love, there will be push back and possible consequences.  Luther is widely revered now, but lived a terribly difficult life.  There are consequences to stepping out of line, even when it comes to standing in the truth, both in a culture that attacks and a church that may not appreciate challenge.  We should not be shocked by this, but be willing to say “I am not ashamed of the Gospel, for is the power of salvation for all who believe.” (Romans 1:16)  I love that Luther was open to rebuke, but demanded it be from Scripture.  May we be so open to being challenged, but confident in the foundation of God’s Word.  May we be slow to attack when others take a bold stance.

So much of what Luther was about in 1517 resonates so loudly for us in the world's culture and Church's experience of 2014.  We can point to Luther as we wrestle with being missional today, because he unapologetically points to Jesus.  May we rediscover what it means for us to say, for the sake of the Gospel of Christ, “Here we stand.  We can do no else.”

some things take time.

I’m a slow mover.  More and more I’m becoming aware of how long it takes me to do things.  I read slowly.  I write slowly.  I don’t like feeling rushed, especially in the morning.  Even though my life seems to be a flurry of activity, I am often slow to do and create.

My mom loves to tell the story of her long labor with me.  My sisters still bring up the fact that their evening bath was interrupted when my mom's water broke and they didn't even get to wash the shampoo out of their hair.  My family rushed to the hospital, and yet, I didn’t make my grand entrance until the next afternoon.  My mom smiles as she says, “you’ve been taking your time ever since.”

I used to get frustrated with myself about this, but am growing in the acceptance and embracing of my life’s pace.  Truly, I wouldn’t dare wish that away about my story.  Slow is not void of meaning or activity, but often allows space for a richness and breath.  Most days, I might even say I like the easy moving pace of slow.  I'm usually pretty okay with the fact that, for me especially, some things just take time.

Some of my favorite projects I’ve ever made – crafts, sewing, music, worship experiences—seemed like they would never be done.  Some came in danger of being tossed aside multiple times.  But I can look at them with joy, and delight in them even more so, because they not only hold beauty, but effort, process, redemption of mistakes, and persistence.

When you move like I did a few months ago, people love to ask “so, are you all settled in yet?”  I often laugh and mention the month delay on the arrival of my belongings and how much I’ve been traveling lately.  “These past few weekends have been too gorgeous to stay inside!” I exclaim.  All of those things are true.  But it’s also true that especially in things I care about—this being creating a homey, welcoming place that reflects me and is soaked in Jesus—I move slowly.  I realized that this week as I made some significant progress in my living space.  I soak up decorating each wall or corner and make sure everything looks and feels just right.  Look at the wall on the right.  Pieces from thrift stores or yard sales.  Craft projects and upcycling.  I love that it's really old wood frames and a well loved cutting board that bring beauty to my kitchen wall.  The rich character held in those pieces didn't come quickly.  The time it took to create this wall was great.  But the feeling that came when I stood back to look at its completion this morning, was awesome.  I became okay with the time it took, when I saw how it came together.  But yes, it took time.

I know that I was made in the image of the Creator to create.  He was way more efficient than me.  Creating the universe in 6 days?!  Shoot.  I've spent longer planning an outfit.

God is a big and mighty capable master Creator.  Not just a one time Artist in the beginning, but continuously.  His favorite medium is people.  We’re stubborn.  We make mistakes.  We’re impatient.  Sometimes he has to take us apart a bit to get us to be what He’s designed.  And that takes time.  I want to jump to hanging the finished piece on wall, but the Artist is says gently, “you haven’t seen the best part take shape yet.”  So for further unfolding in my story, I wait.

While acknowledging that many areas of my life are beyond my dreams and I couldn’t ask for more, today is just one of those days that I’m feeling the rub of what seems to be little or no movement in some areas of life.  God, I’m eager for the man you have in store for me, for ministry to be mature, for community to be rich and deepening, for bucket list items to be checked, but until then, help me dig into you and allow you to work and guide.

I tend to lean into being proactive and believe strongly in its value.  There is much God has given us to work with in the meantime.  Today, though, I’m simply reminded of the Artist at work and that I’m the medium.  Some things, and often the really great things, take time.

sour insides: dealing with what I can't fix.

I’m a “fixer.”  I consider it one of my strengths and also among my greatest down falls.  When I see things hurt, broken, or could just use improving, I want to jump in.  God has gifted me to be an encourager and to walk along side of people and I am so overwhelmed to say that he’s allowed me to watch how he’s healed and shaped people as I’ve joined them on journeys.  StrengthsFinders says I have the “restorative” strength.

But I have to confess something to you this morning.  Part of my motivation to fix or restore comes out of my desire for control, as well as often thinking I know what is best.  When I see gaps or conflicts in the lives of students I work with, friends, organizations, churches, governments, etc, I see the potential there is to be healthier, to grow, to take a risk.  There are times when I am able to have a conversation or give insight that encourages a person to consider what they might do to grow in wholeness.  

But the times where there’s really nothing I can do, when I'm completely out of control, I struggle so greatly with sour insides.  You know that feeling when your gut turns because something is broken beyond fixing, or so it seems.  A physical reaction to things not being the way they ought.  That’s sour insides.  The grief in your gut, the sad in your stomach.

• There’s nothing I can do about health issues that rattle my family and my friends’ families.  There’s no way I can fix it.  I try to offer up articles I’ve read for new food choices or exercise options (yeah, guys…I’m a fixer).  I have to come to admit that I don’t have healing powers or a cure for cancer, but a spot in my insides began to turn sour.

• Wars raging in our world and global conflicts are heartbreaking, terrifying, and seemingly endless.  People offer simplistic, flippant solutions from their safe American living rooms not seeing the layers of political narratives, instilled beliefs, and utter terror that reign in people that look just like us and just like the ones we see as the enemy.  Abuse and hurt continues year after year, even within the places and people that have claimed to be the presence of Christ on earth.  I get overwhelmed and angry.  I get sour insides.

• I grieve in helplessness about the day burned in my mind and heart when we visited people who lived in a dump in Managua, Nicaragua.  We handed out snacks and juice to children through our van windows, as it wasn’t safe to even get out of our vehicle.  In minutes, our van was swarmed with desperately hungry people who lived among garbage that even contained visible bio-hazard boxes and sharps containers.  Our time was short there, as police insisted we leave the area to limit the exposure the Americans had to such an incredible blind spot in the poorest country in Latin America.  A van full of energetic and playful students was silenced for the afternoon, as the weight of an issue crushed them.  Handing out juice did little to contribute.  The issue is so huge and multi-layered.  We are powerless to save.  And a part of my insides has never unsoured from that day because that’s not the way life is supposed to be.

• I grieve broken places in my story and the stories of those I love.  I grieve sometimes that life isn’t what I thought it would be.  Finances, struggles with children, broken relationships, lack of career direction, unfulfilled dreams, tragedy, thinking we'd be "ahead" of where we are in life by now (whatever that even means).  Circumstances that persist despite proactivity.  People that decide they don't respect, value, or even like you just because.  I find myself and others utterly out of control and at the mercy of so many factors.  And my insides sour for a moment more.

• I don’t have any ability to change the minds or soften the words of people that vehemently and brutally disagree in hurtful ugliness within politics, race issues, community issues, and even in my very own church body.  And this morning I ached from sour insides and gut grief.

Like so many other days, I’m forced to see my inability to be the savior and stop to plead with the One who is.  There’s some days where I’m so overwhelmed by what I can’t control.  Jesus speaks gently:

“Take heart, I have overcome the world.”

”Come to me, weary one.  You’re carrying such heavy burdens.  I’ll give you rest.”

“Take my yoke upon you.  Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” 

Gut healing words.  Everything isn’t magically better, but in that time, to remember once again that Christ is King and he is the hope that will never disappoint, is enough (Rom. 5:5).  As songwriter, JJ Heller, put so eloquently, "sometimes I don't know what you're doing, but I know who you are."  (Check out the amazing song here.)

The truth is, if we could fix the world, if we could even fix ourselves, we wouldn’t need Jesus'--his saving death and resurrection--and we would quickly forget him.  I know I would be in great danger of doing so.  But we desperately see the need.  Our sour insides plead for a Savior and his “shalom” – that everything would be as it ought, whole and full of peace.  I was reminded once again this week of the power of praying “shalom” over people, situations, and seemingly hopeless conflicts.  Because I believe that there will be a day when the shalom of Christ will reign in fullness and all will be as it ought.  We pray for glimpses of it now.

So I pray once again.  Turning over my sour insides to my Savior.  Confessing my need for control and my inability to save.  Pleading for shalom where my efforts fall short.  And resting in the love of the One who overcame the world.

Christ, grant us your shalom and give us good bellies.

Intentional.

I recently did a mental inventory of the people I most look up to, respect, and want to be like when I grow up.  Among the qualities of being great encouragers, faithful missionaries, loving parents and spouses, truth speakers, adventurers, secure in their own skin, self-aware, and super funny, the common trait I noticed was “intentional.”

What does that mean? 

I have a couple of friends who spent the last several months organizing a trip for a bunch of us to camp at a weekend music festival outside of Seattle.  They went to great lengths to create space for friends to connect, have an adventure, and listen to some great music.  Another couple of friends who live out of state sent me flowers and cookies on my birthday to let me know I was remembered and loved, even from afar.  For another birthday, a friend planned an entire day of thoughtful adventures and activities that we could enjoy together.  A couple of weeks ago, people traveled from near and far and changed around work schedules to attend my installation service.  Nothing could’ve been more affirming to me than people intentionally choosing to be part of my life, and even better, inviting me into theirs.  I think especially for a single person, who doesn’t yet have a spouse that has chosen her or him every day for life, it can be among the most valuable gifts in the world to know that someone has gone out of their way to choose you.

Intentional people do things—do life—with a purpose, on purpose.  The relationships I have with people who are intentional about choosing me are the most encouraging and flourishing and I am so grateful.

I think of Jesus.  He was so incredibly intentional.  He knew why he was on earth.  To speak good news, to set captives free, to heal the sick, to be one with the Father, to live perfectly, and to redeem the world.  He did it all so beautifully.  He made time for people.  He also made time for rest and prayer.  He kept the point, the point.  He spoke truth and showed great love.  Intentional didn’t seem calculated or with ulterior motive, but simply purposeful in being grace and truth.

In my not so distant past, I found myself in a less than thriving season where I was in survival mode.  The only goal I had was getting through the day.  Even though insight and encouragement from a counselor gave me new tools and perspective, I couldn’t shake the funk.  I couldn’t see beyond the dark cloud I was under.  Complaints ruled my thoughts and conversations.  I replayed days and conversations in my head and knew I didn’t like who I had become or how I felt, but wasn’t sure I knew how to do anything else.  Through some encouragement of Shauna Niequist’s book, “Bittersweet,” I was challenged to find gratitude.  So I made a choice.  One small decision to find one thing at the end of each day that I was grateful for, write it down, and put it in a jar on my nightstand.  It was a very small thing.  To be honest, those first few days, I resented the exercise and told myself I didn’t have the energy for it, but I did it anyway.  After awhile, I found myself writing a whole list each night.  I’ve watched this one small decision I made one day turn into a progression that has altered my attitude and heart.  One small choice to be intentional added some sense of stability to my world and set me on a path of increased health and joy.

When we live without some sort of intention, we can easily wind up in a place we never wanted to be without even realizing we were heading there.  Even if it’s making one choice per day to be intentional, that can be the choice that takes life in a new direction.  And not just any direction, but one that you have decided is beneficial and where you want to go.

There can’t be too many intentions at once, otherwise we set ourselves up to fail and be overwhelmed, but I’ve come up with a few for this season of my journey of living life to the full as a Jesus follower.

1.)    To be an awesome friend and family member.

I am an auntie, a godmama, a sister, a daughter, and a friend to folks in a variety of ages and stages.  More than most anything in life, I want to kick butt at being those.  I want to be present for important days and times.  Because many are far away, I want to make a point to reach out from a distance when I can’t be present.  I want to follow up on what loved ones share with me.  I want to remember them in prayer and celebrate the gift of those God has placed in my story.  I want to be intentional about making it a priority to have time with them.  I want to be intentional in how I affirm our relationships and who God made them to be with my words and actions.  I want to risk my cool points and relational control to ensure that my family and friends know I love them, see Jesus at work through them, and that I have their back.  The relationships that I feel most validated by are the ones who have been intentional in valuing me.  I love being chosen, especially by a perfect, loving Heavenly Father.  I want to give my people a glimpse of that promise of God’s choosing, by letting them know I choose them.

2.)    To be an encourager.
I have high expectations.  I can be a critic and even cynical at times.  I believe, though, that God has called me in my roles with work, church, family, and friends, to be an intentional encourager.  Proverbs 16:24 says, “Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”  Paul talks multiple times in his letters about the importance of encouragement.  We, simply by speaking life and truth to each other, give each other courage to face whatever it is coming our way.  We have the power to strengthen and empower others with choosing to speak words that build up and not tear down.  In a world where sarcasm is celebrated all too often, I want to be an encourager who is intentional about her words and that they be used to affirm and encourage.

3.)    To write.
It’s been set aside for far too long.  I’ve wanted to write, but haven’t made it a priority.  It’s one of my “hobby activities” that has taken a back seat to a summer of transition, travel, and "too much going on".  But it’s time to be intentional.  Writing allows me to discover how God has placed blessings and love throughout my story, much like a child finds Easter eggs that have been carefully placed for their finding.  Hobbies are important—they add health and balance to life that can easily be consumed by career and activity.  More and more, I believe that some of our greatest vocation points are found in our hobbies—they space we have to do what we love with freedom and allow for our God-given gifts to produce something free from pressure or for compensation.  I think some of the most powerful movements, beautiful works of art, and dynamic communities have begun that way.  It’s time to be intentional – acknowledge this is something I want to be good at, a gift I want to steward well, and do it.  That and I have a “before I’m 30” bucket list item to achieve. ;-)

I always hated goals because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t reach them.  The pressure that accompanied them would weigh me down and sometimes even leave me paralyzed.  Now I’ve realized being intentional isn’t about arriving.  It’s simply taking one step in the right direction and celebrating the progress found in the journey.  I’m not yet where I want to be, but I’m not where I was before.  Or as Paul said in Philippians 3:12, “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.”  One thing is for sure, when you’re intentional about something, even if you miss the mark, you’re going to be much closer to the bulls eye than if you didn’t aim to hit it.

For the sake of your vocations and obligations, those you interact with, and your own wellbeing, I challenge you to make one intentional choice today.  Choose where you want to go and do it on purpose.

This One's for the Girls (who lead in the Church)

A few weeks ago, I was at a conference for churches in the LCMS to come together and share their best practices for doing ministry.  One evening, we went back into the gym to hear a solid team of college students leading a time of worship from the stage.  It only took me a few moments to realize that the two leaders of this band were young women.  Something gripped me about that.  It made me smile, but I also began to just pray for them from my seat. 

When worship was done, I felt so compelled that evening to connect with these girls—it seemed as if we had an automatic bond as worship leading women in the synod.  It’s not a large group.  We chatted for a few moments and I heard about their college paths and plans. My lovely friend, Mia, also a worship leader happen to walk by.  For the next little while, she and I spent time praying over these young ladies.  For their hearts, for their callings, for their protection and humility, for their boldness as women in worship.  I don't remember their names and maybe never even heard them, but since that day, I’ve continued to pray for these girls and others like them.  God has continued to stir in my heart the passion for raising up and releasing women to lead in his Church.  We need to be doing so with men and women alike, but in our church body, must acknowledge that women have a larger hill to climb and are often discouraged by fear or shamed out of even considering what God might do with them.

I want to encourage you today to consider joining me in encouraging the next generation of worship leaders and leaders in ministry, both men and women. This is what we prayed over those girls on that day.  And this is my prayer for all of you women who are out there serving the Church or preparing to do so.

• Be willing.  Sister, you can lead worship.  You can lead others in their walk with Jesus.  You can proclaim God's promises to the masses and invite them to join in the proclamation.  If God is calling you to do that, do it!  Yes, there are hurdles.  If you’re in my church body, you will be an anomaly.  But you can be a huge blessing.  If God has gifted you and is calling you to lead his people to worship, don’t deny the Church the gift he’s granted you.  It’s time to step into your calling.
• Be prepared.  People will challenge whether or not you should be in the role you are in as a worship leader or faith leader.  Learn the stories.  Study up.  I get the passages a lot from the letters of Timothy about women not speaking in church.  Don’t forget, though, Philip the evangelist, (Acts 21) had four daughters who were prophetesses.  Prophets spoke and taught the Word of God just as worship leaders now lead the speaking and singing of God’s Word for the Church each time we gather.  I adore the story of the prophetess, Anna.  After she was widowed, she never left the temple, but was there constantly worshiping, praying, and serving; eager to see the face of God, until Jesus arrived.  That’s you, sister.  Keep worshiping, praying, serving, and waiting for God to show up.  Trust that what you are doing is Scriptural and continue to test it.  Test your actions and your intentions.  Invite others into that process with you.  Honor the leadership of the pastor(s) God has placed you under.  Be steeped in the Word so that it flows from you as you lead the Church, but also that you may stand when others condemn you.
• Be bold.  Sister, sometimes it’s challenging for us who are stepping out of the norm, but it’s time to get bold.  You will often be the sole woman in meetings of men.  You will be outnumbered and sometimes overlooked.  You must remember, if God has given you that position, he wants you to be a good steward of it.  You have been gifted with creativity and a feminine perspective.  Don’t be afraid or ashamed to share it.  You have experiences and insights that are valuable.  Even if you are not feeling honored, know that you were placed in that role for “such a time as this” like some other girl I know named Esther.  One of my favorite Scriptures is from 2 Timothy 1:7.  I speak it to myself often.   “For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”  Fear isn’t of Jesus.  It’s the enemy trying to keep you docile.  Possess the power, love, and self-discipline of Christ in you.  Pray for his boldness.
• Be tough.  In college, I learned quickly that being an outspoken female in theology classes or leader in chapel was going to not only earn me some funny looks, but, at times, some very harsh words.  I spent many tearful times wondering if this whole worship and ministry thing was worth it.  I would cry with friends, wondering why God would gift me to speak and lead when it seemed like it was so taboo.  The truth is people can be brutal.  A high school teachers told me a “smart girl shouldn’t waste her time with such things.”  Other church work students/leaders insisted I needed to “get back in line or find a new church body” as if I had been running amuck outside of God’s commands.  People both inside and outside of the Church will say things to you, about you, even against you.  It will hurt.  Hear people out with gentleness, but only accept Scriptural rebukes and put some Teflon on your armor to let the arrows slide right off.  Just remember, Jesus said that would happen when we follow him.  The enemy wants you to get discouraged and quit.  Offer the ugly up to Jesus in thanksgiving, shake the dust from your sandals, and walk on.
• Be gentle.  This one has taken me awhile to appreciate.  My college self was a bit more fiery than I am now.  I loved to engage in “discussions” about such topics that were really more about me winning and showing up the jerks on campus.  Let’s face it.  That does nothing.  I was on a crusade for awhile to understand and free women’s roles in our church body as Scripture would describe.  I pushed and got angry.  I became defensive and ultimately lost sight of the cause of Christ for the sake of the role I thought I was entitled to and needed to defend.  Sister, when ministry becomes more about taking a stand as a female leader, then we’ve lost sight of the most important thing: the Gospel.  Don’t be afraid to step into your calling as a woman of God in leadership.   Don’t forget that Godly leadership keeps the Gospel as the thing, not to be overshadowed by any cause other than Christ.
  I eventually came to the realization that the people who thought I was wrong for being a female worship leader and faith leader would not change their minds by my arguments, anger, or witty remarks.  My venting about them to everyone I know wouldn’t be the magic solution to swaying their opinion.  I came to realize that those people would being serving the Church, and God-willing, growing the Church in a way and to a demographic that I would not.  May we each be a little less distracted with the internal arguments, and instead serve well and reach many lost for Jesus.
• Be humble.  You are not a rock star.  You are not a diva.  You are just a girl that God gave gifts.  He could take them away if he chose.  This is not about you.  As Christine Caine once said, "If the light shining on you is brighter than the one shining in you, the light on you will destroy you."  Let God ground you and develop you.  Don't think of yourself more highly than you ought.  Be honored to serve.  Be humble.
• Be awesome.  Yes.  That is what I meant.  Work your butt off.  Earn your right to be there.  Don’t act entitled or play the victim church chica.  Get in there and kick some tail.  There are a lot of great worship leaders in the world and even in the LCMS.  Most all the well-known ones are men.  Ladies, this isn’t about making us famous, but God deserves for us to do the best with what he’s given us.  Don’t coast on your sweet spirit and ability to work it off the fly.  Practice.  Expect excellence.  Make a ministry more quality than when you got there (understanding that it takes time, elbow grease, and a lot of walking and working with people).  Do ministry and life with integrity.  Seek to honor Jesus in how you live and lead.  People will grow to respect and honor your leadership.  Make much of Jesus.  Show people he’s worthy by how you do everything for his glory.  Be awesome.
• Don’t be bitter.  Look.  Ministry can be rough.  For men and women alike, this life isn’t an easy one.  But sister, you have a bit bigger target on your back.  Don’t make a scene carrying it.  You don’t do this for others or even for yourself.  This is for the Kingdom of God.  Jesus’ bride is so full of brokenness.  You will be pressed, persecuted, and struck down, but there’s treasure in you, Miss Jar of Clay.  Don’t lose sight of the fact that God is sovereign and faithful.  The brokenness of the Church is the very reason it needs you.  Resist the temptation to get ugly at people even when people are ugly.  Pray regularly against a bitter root, especially as women who can tend to take things more personally.  When we’re bitter followers, it gets a bit more difficult to know we’re Christians by our love.  Make peace with the brokenness, seek out and strive for wholeness, and ask God to keep your heart joyful.
• Be encouraging.  There are gifted women in our churches that God might be preparing to be leaders in his Church.  Encourage them.  Draw them out.  Take special attention to mentor and disciple them.  Pray with and for them.  Give them opportunities to trying things and fail and try again.
  If you want to really encourage women to lead, specifically in worship, get women up front leading so that others might be emboldened and given permission to even entertain the dream of leading.
  One of the most touching moments of my worship leading tenure was a mom of a little blonde girl that came up to me one Sunday.  She shared with me how I was the first female at their church to ever hold a guitar and lead the band.  Before that, girls had only ever sang backup vocals.  It wasn’t intentional by the leader.  It was just the way things were.  So here I was, leading the band, playing guitar, singing, praying, and leading the gathered in an encounter with Jesus.  This teary-eyed mom thanked me for allowing her musically-gifted, Jesus-loving little girl the opportunity to dream that she could grow up to play a guitar and point people to Jesus.  Sister, as you lead, you give others permission to do the same.  Raise up this next generation of women (and men) in the Church.  Point out their gifts and take the time to teach them what it means to lead others by following Jesus.  After all, it’s not about being rocker chicks or girls ruling the world.  It’s about Jesus, following him and raising up disciples to make disciples, both men and women.

“This isn’t how I thought it would be.” : a Mary story.

As I sit here in the glow of my Christmas tree, soaking up the scent of my holiday candle, I see the packages under the tree that my parents sent from Kansas.  There are a couple of open boxes in the corner that haven’t been mailed.  An unfinished Christmas project has overtaken the coffee table, which also holds a box of cards that won’t get sent.  I’m so bad at Christmas.

Ya know, I’m just not really what you would call a “Christmas person.”  I know, I know.  How can I love Jesus,  be in church work, and NOT be excited about His birth?!  Well, perhaps the Grinch and myself have something in common, but I think it has more to do with the crazy of the season and my tendency for ridiculous expectations.

I love giving thoughtful gifts.  I secretly dream of getting THE PERFECT THING that each person on my list has always secretly hoped and dreamed to receive.  If I fall short, I’m disappointed.  I get bummed when I don’t hear from loved ones I’m thinking of during this season.  It’s hard to spend the days leading up to Christmas, knowing that the Schwalm girls are filling the kitchen with goodies and sneaking gifts under the tree.  I sit and wonder who will wrap my Dad’s gifts for him and why I didn’t take time to adopt a Christmas angel this year.  I didn’t get to go to the Holidazzle parade or make it back for my alma mater’s Christmas concert.  I miss snow and I can’t make desserts like my mom.  My apartment is empty and my work load is full.  And I can’t help but think to myself: “This isn’t how I thought it would be.”

I heard someone say once, “This craziness of Christmas is ridiculous!  Do you think the first Christmas was like that?!  No!”  I can’t argue about the over-the-top nature the holiday has taken, but I’m pretty sure Christmas has always been crazy.

God blessed me with new eyes for Jesus’ mother, Mary, this Advent—a glimpse into her story.  Picture her.  Sweet teenage Mary.  Engaged to a lovely man.   Dreaming of the festivities they would have with the whole village to celebrate their nuptials.  Enter Gabriel the game changer.  Mary takes her assignment of birthing the Messiah with obedience, grace, and faith and in a flash, the holy baby bump is the talk of the village.  Hurtful words and whispers abound, dreams of a joyous and honorable wedding are dashed, and her man is having doubts.  Thankfully Elizabeth gave her some encouragement and Joseph jumps aboard after a little visit from the Lord while he was sleeping.  The wedding is still on, but not the large, honorable festivities, I’m sure.  She would never have a wedding like the one where her Son turned water into wine.  They would always be under scandal.  People are wondering about Joseph, too.  Just like that, this couples’ obedience to God has earned them scarlet letters.   And I have to wonder if at the thought of her crushed bridal dreams, she said, “This isn't how I thought it would be.”

But moving on, there’s a baby on the way.  Of course, they didn’t have a baby registry or a nursery to decorate, but there were still plans to be made.  I’m sure Mary had spoken with Nazareth’s midwife.  I'm sure those were interesting conversations.  I'm thinking she had delivered enough babies to question the whole virgin birth thing.  There are certain to have been conversations with Mary’s mom about what to expect and tricks to handle the pain.  They probably prepared a place for the birth and a few items for the baby soon to come.  After all, it could be any day now.  But wait, word arrives to Nazareth that there is a census being enforced by the Roman occupation.  All must register.  No exceptions.  (Note God's creative use of political oppression here as a tool to get Mary and Joseph 80 miles down the road to Bethlehem so the prophecy would be fulfilled.  Well played.)  I can only imagine the tears rolling down Mary’s face as Joseph broke the news.  “I’m sorry, Mary, but we have to go to Bethlehem right away.  It’s a long journey, but we have no choice.”  She rushes to gather a few things together—a few loaves of bread, a wine skin, and some strips of cloth for swaddling for the baby’s arrival—while her mother repeats delivery instructions over and over again to the young, first time parents.  Mary wouldn’t have her midwife there, or her mama, or anyone who had been a parent before.  And as they left Nazareth all their plans for the birth of their child fading behind them, I’m sure Mary had to have thought at least once, “This isn’t how I thought it would be.”

Yes, I know she was obedient in this calling, but she was still human.  And any human riding nine months pregnant on a donkey for four days is sure to have some unholy thoughts.  As they come into this humble village of Bethlehem, the place is packed.  So packed that they can’t even get a room to sleep in.  The kind innkeeper offers a livestock cave out back so they can at least get out of the wind.  And Mary goes into labor.  In a place with sheep dung all over the ground, reeking of animals, chilly, and rocky.  I could image her desperation in that moment.  “Okay…I didn’t get the wedding, my first child is shamed, not celebrated by my village, the Romans force us to come to Bethlehem with a baby bouncing on a donkey ride, and I’ve been a good sport.  But…this?!?!  This. Is. Ridiculous!”  She has nothing to welcome her little one with, except for a few strips of cloth she brought and a new dad to help with the delivery.  This was so not how she thought it would be.

Jesus is born and Mary is exhausted.  She needs to rest, but can’t put Jesus down on the sheep poop floor.  I have to believe Joseph improvised with the whole manger idea and was so proud of his problem-solving dad moment.  He knew it wasn’t what she’d imagined, but the best they could do.

But wait.  There’s more.  God is so excited about the arrival of His Son to earth that He has to tell someone!  Why not some shepherds?  They’re close and still awake…bring ‘em over!  And poor post-labor Mary welcomes a bunch of filthy shepherds to the cave, probably accompanied by some sheep, to see the Christ lying in a feeding trough.  It really had to be nothing like she’d expected.  But that was the moment that it all hit her.

It was as if she relived all the moments that led up to that point, starting from Gabriel’s visit.  The pregnancy scandal, the talking neighbors, the almost divorce, the census, the journey, the donkey..oh, the donkey, the crowded inn, the sheep cave, the broken birth plans, and shepherds being the first to visit the newborn.  But she smiled and pondered all of these moments in her heart because through all of that, a stringing together of one crazy event after another, the Messiah was born just as she’d been told.

It didn’t get easier from there.  They had to flee to Egypt for awhile.  Their families wouldn’t have met Jesus until they returned to Nazareth when he was a young child.  Perhaps she’d thrown her expectations out the window by then.

So I stop and look around at my Christmas crazy.  My packages and projects.  Or just my regular crazy.  My unattained goals and unreached landmarks.  Are my expectations getting in the way?  Am I willing to give up my dreams and expectations for what God might have in mind?  Do I trust that when difficult arises that God’s provision and protection is bigger than my fear and discomfort?  Am I taking time to ponder in my heart what God has done this year to bring me to this point?  Am I missing the Savior for being focused on the manger?

There have been SO many times in my life that I’ve uttered those words, “this is not what I thought it would be.”  But one thing remains true every Christmas since the first, and it’s true for this one.  Jesus is here.  God has kept His promise and in a way no one expected.  Christmas has always been crazy.  This year is no exception.  Take a cue from Mary.  Roll with it.  Do some pondering.  And join in worshiping with the shepherds.

Sometimes I wonder if she really knew what it all meant.  I mean, she knew Jesus was the Messiah, but what did that mean to her?  Did she expect Him to reign as King of Israel?  Lead a mighty military?  Overthrow the Roman oppressors?  Did she really expect him to…be a carpenter like His dad?  Well, both of His dad’s did like to make things…so I guess it works.  Did she expect him to have a posse and travel around speaking and healing?  I don’t know.

There was a moment where Mary stood next to John, the one Jesus loved, and looked up at her first born.  A baby once wrapped in cloths was now a beaten, bloody mess hanging with His hands and feet nailed to a cross.  As His mother stood there in John’s arms, overcome by sadness, I believe she was grieving dreams of who she thought Jesus would be both as her son and her Messiah.  Perhaps saying for a final time, “This…this is not how I thought it would be.”

But on that Good Friday at the cross and that night in Bethlehem, heaven replied, “For you, for the world, for hope, life, and salvation, this is how it had to be in to accomplish what’s meant to be.”

You having life for hear and eternity is what’s meant to be.  Jesus brought that for you. 

Merry Christmas. 

fall: God's lesson about the beauty of death.

Since I can remember, I’ve been the little girl that loved to soak up every moment of summer.  No school, bikes, pools.  But something in me has shifted in the last few years.  After years of summer confidently standing in the number one spot, fall has wiggled its way in to gain the gold.  Maybe it was my first Phoenix summer a few years ago that began a wedge between summer and me.  At just that time, I returned to Minnesota for the most magical season of color and crispness.  Some of my favorite moments with the Lord have been spent running or sitting along a lovely walking path that parallels the Mississippi River that splits Minneapolis from St. Paul.  The path is best in fall with massive deciduous trees shedding color combinations only God himself could create.  The crisp air on this girl’s face inspired and empowered me with new energy; perhaps a necessary jolt before the winter hibernation set in.

It’s the perfect time of year for a walk with a sweater and scarf.  Just when it gets a little too chilly, you can find your way into a cozy coffee shop that smells of sweet cider drinks and warm conversation.  There’s just something about this season.  Fall makes me feel alive and romanced.  I grieved missing the leaves, the orchards, and the sweatshirt weather this year as I sit by the pool in capris and a t-shirt.  The desert doesn’t do fall quite like Minnesota or New England, but there are echoes of the same refreshing sentiment.  I love the smell of fire pits in the evening and the ability to be outside again after our season of summer hibernation.

This season just resonates in me.  Its beauty and romance are just captivating to me and I wanted to figure out why.  Why is a season of death so stunning?  That’s really what it is.  The trees shedding their dead and burying them into expired lawns.  It’s a gorgeous death.  I got a little concerned for a bit that maybe at my core, I was enamored with a season of dying and my future will be resigned to reading Poe and wear black jackets and eyeliner.

But I don’t think that’s the case.  What if God, at the fall of humanity, weaved His redemption narrative into creation?  I mean, that sounds pretty simple, right?  We see dead things making soil rich to bring new life.  New growth emerges from out of the snowy winter.  We see parallel stories to Christ everywhere.  Maybe it’s been obvious to everyone else all along, but I have been captured these past few weeks by this notion:  God weaved a season of beautiful death into creation’s rhythm so it would already be familiar to our souls.

Think about it.  Death is the most ugly thing in existence.  It can be gory, gross, the most destructive and permanent part of life.  It goes against everything we are as created beings to find death beautiful.  So perhaps God did some foreshadowing in nature to prepare us and familiarize our beings with this seemingly oxymoronic concept that is essential to the Gospel.  Jesus took the most horrid death imaginable and redefined love and beauty where a curse once lived.  It’s a stretch for us to believe that God not only makes beautiful things out of the dust and dead, but He made death itself beautiful.  God shedding and killing our old selves to make us look more like him is beautiful death.  In a very literal way, letting go of life here to enter into eternity will be the most beautiful and true moment our souls will ever know.  I struggle to grasp it all, but Fall helps me to trust it’s possible.  I’m grateful today that God helps us see images of His truth in what He’s created because He knows our lack of faith and understanding.  What a good Dad.

Some of the most wonderful glory I’ve witnessed has been through this season of death.  It’s taught me to pay attention in other life seasons where death seems to prevail.  In relationships, in jobs, in health, in tragedy.  The promise stands that God is making it beautiful.  If we don’t stop and take a walk among what is dying, we may miss the beauty He’s painting into death to woo us, comfort us, and draw us further into His romantic story of redemption.  May we never miss it.