Easter and being hungry.

This week, my church had a 24 hour time of prayer and fasting. It was a great way to keep the momentum moving toward Holy Week. Don't get me wrong, I was plenty hungry and I really wanted an English Muffin with Peanut Butter. I'm learning a lot about myself and my faith as I put a tentative foot in the water of "going without for God's sake". I'm learning that when I'm hungry, my immediate reaction is to go find something to satisfy my body's need. The interesting thing is I don't always stop long enough to really figure out what it is I need. I just want the solution to be...immediate, now, discomfort gone... Thank you very much.
Which makes me think about Easter and my view of the sacrifice. I'm feeling kind of uncomfortable walking into Holy Week this year -- like I don't really get it or something. It seems so neat and tidy, the way we Evangelicals have packaged it -- "look at what has been done for you, empty cross, empty tomb, nothing but the blood" -- all true and I'm grateful, truly... And yet, it just seems so distant. Like someone else's truth that's been figured out and handed to me -- no mess involved. Like there's a hidden component to this amazing thing that was done for me (and every other human being on the planet) and I just can't see it or figure it out or decipher it or something. Shouldn't it cost me something? So much pain for Him and none for me? Kind of like my hunger, unwrap it, consume it ...hunger gone. And yet, is it really? Paul says in his letter to the Romans, ...Don't you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?" (6:3) He goes on to write these Romans that we share in His resurrection as well. And then in another letter he tells them (and us) that the believer carries both of these with them at all times. Death and resurrection -- in me? At all times? Now that, has to cost me something. Doesn't feel like a candy bar at all...you know, not convenient and filled with empty calories. But rather -- something beautiful and painful -- all at once.

Daughters.

There are faces, just a face that can remind me that my life has a purpose I may never understand. My daughter's faces do that. Whether they're smiling or rolling their eyes at me -- I know that being their mother will define me forever. Mothers and daughters...often written about, rarely celebrated. What is it about this chemistry, this relationship, that often gets so tangled and twisted?
In the past two weeks, 2 of my close friends have adopted daughters. One traveled hours and hours across oceans and continents to gather her child unto her. To make her family whole and complete. There is no sense of "rescuing" in my friends mind, even though this sweet baby spent the first year of her life learning how to comfort herself, putting herself to sleep, and staring at the ceiling of an orphanage. My other friend, got a call in the morning, drove to the hospital in the afternoon and loaded her tiny newborn daughter into her SUV and drove home. In all the in between times she was collecting and washing and folding girl things (she's already the Mom of 3 boys). Giddiness at times getting the better of her, but again, this was not a rescue, this was a completing. Two families who were missing someone and now these girls have slipped right into the spot that was their's all along. I'm so proud of both of my friends. Two women with hearts so large in love. These two, such generous lovers of all people that they call me to be better. To be more generous with my grace, to receive love and care more gracefully, to never give up no matter how long the silence or absence has been. I think I'll start with my daughters.

Students and Teachers

I used to have students.
You know, like in a classroom, sitting at desks, me up front waxing eloquent on some topic I thought they just NEEDED to know to get them to the next level of learning.
I was sure I was teaching them so much.
Shaping young minds.
The thing I thought I would do the rest of my life.
Then I stopped.
Preparing lessons, going to a classroom, standing up front.
For almost 3 years I haven't been that person and I miss her.
Until today, I thought I knew what I missed.
I thought somehow it was connected to my love of learning and my passion to see that come alive in the next generation.
And while that may be part of it...
What I learned today, was that I miss them.
I miss the 18 year old, away from home for the first time.
Trying to figure out how not to be overwhelmed by college and yet look like he belongs.
I miss the 19 year old just figuring out that the mind REALLY is a terrible thing to waste and so she starts engaging hers, in discussions and conversations and matters that really matter.
I miss the 20 year old who wakes up one morning and realizes that she wants to make a difference for God's sake, at the same time her singleness is making her heart ache and she doesn't want it to matter so much.
I miss the 21 year old, with the "just ready to launch" look in his eye. Ready to take on the world, the church, his parents, the "system"...whatever - just ready.
I miss what they did for me and to me.
How they wrecked me for settling.
How they constantly made me laugh and want to pull my hair out.
How they called me to look for God in all the strangest places -- late papers, forgotten projects, missed appointments, and the most amazing "what-if" questions I've ever heard.
I learned all this today.
When I opened an email from a used to be 18 year old who's now a full-fledged grown-up person. With another degree, a great job, and a huge passion for living.
In the midst of her "catch up" email she taught me.
She told me thank you.
"Thank you for loving me.
Thank you for teaching me.
Thank you for challenging me.
Thank you for speaking truth."
Julia, it was my pleasure...
You're teaching me more than I ever taught you anyway.

Who is it that I want?

Today, I interracted with a piece of scripture I rarely read except around Easter time. It's John's telling of Christ's arrest -- a painful scene, no matter when you read it. But here's what hit me...in John 18, Jesus asks the crowd (and maybe me?) "Who is it you want?". When they told him and He answered, "I am he"...THEY FELL DOWN.
Here's what wrecked me,
When was the last time I fell down because I ran smack into the very God I say I follow.
Did Christ know, standing in the garden that night, that I would need to get clear on who I really WANT my savior to be?
Did He know that my heart would beat hard for the Radical, Deliverer, Redeemer, Freedom-maker, Forgiver, and Life-changer?
BUT, my flesh would turn and run away from that very same Jesus?
Searching somewhere else for a safer version of you.
"Who is it you want?"
O, Lord.
Help me know -- today it's You, the revolutionary.
Tomorrow, it may be my safer ideation of who I think you should be.
Save me from myself.
Redeem my wandering heart for something greater than me.
Make me fall down.

I'm Big, You're Small.

The other day, I was hiking in Red Rocks in Las Vegas (these aren't them, these are the Red Rocks of Sedona) and I was reminded that my "stuff", which feels HUGE to me, is actually quite small in comparision to alot of other "stuff". Every time I'm in nature, I gain a better perspectivce on living, loving, and following.
I hear God calling out to me -- through the sky, the redness of the rocks, the roughness of the terrain -- I'm Big, You're Small.

My life means more than just following the routine.
My love has the capacity to move, change, heal, call -- in other people's lives.
My capacity to lead is directly linked to my ability to follow.

When I'm out and about in the world God created,
He always helps me ask the better questions....
Why is it so hard for you to look up and see Me all around you?
When will you stop listening to the lies and really lean into the truth of My love for you?
How will you not end up dragging yourself from one activity to the next again?
What is true, what isn't?
All good questions -- so painful to answer.

Better bundle up, head outside and start figuring it out!

My story.

Like everyone, my story is connected to somebody else's.
For me, there are parents, siblings, nieces & nephews, a few great friends, a church I love, a community that challenges the heck out of me, a husband who has loved me well, and three children.




It's these children that get me every time.
I'm discovering that they are my story, going forward.
So, here they are.
Somedays, the reason for it all.
Most days, my greatest joy.
Others, pull my hair out, what in the world were we thinking,
God, you are so funny, chaos.
Ben.
Mackenzie.
Katie.
Every day teaching me how to B43.