7 Ingredient Almond Butter Cookies

I love to cook.

Several years ago, I was stuck at a standstill with my meal prepping. I wasn’t thinking ahead about what I wanted to eat, so each night right around dinner time, I found myself staring hungrily into an empty fridge. Most nights I, more often than not, ended up roaming the aisles of the grocery store or ended up getting takeout. I was spending more money than I wanted and I was eating things that didn’t make me feel good.

It was around that time that I decided to get HelloFresh, the meal kit program that changed my life, and I haven’t looked back since.

HelloFresh revealed to me that I loved to cook. I loved creating something delicious with my hands and then enjoying it afterwards. It became a stress reliever, a place I could empty my mind, and a place of personal growth. It became a place where I wasn't striving or performing, but a place where I was creating. The portions of food were perfect too, so I wasn't wasting food or energy. 

I've learned that I love to cook, but I always hesitate in giving any validity to it. What makes one a "cook?" Can making meals for yourself be considered anything more than just making dinner? I'm also pretty hard on myself by nature, so sometimes I'm hesitant to consider my hobbies as more than something silly. 

But this year, I've decided to place more intention and purpose into the things I love, without label or expectation.

I discovered the Defined Dish in 2020. Her recipes are healthy and easy and full of color and flavor. They've stretched me to make new things and have brought joy along the way. Her latest cookbook - called "The Comfortable Kitchen" - just recently released and I'm making it a goal to cook my way through each recipe this year.

So, today, on my last day of Christmas break, I made her 7 Ingredient Almond Butter Cookies. They require... seven ingredients (maple syrup, almond butter, arrowroot flour, almond flour, vanilla extract, baking soda, and salt). So easy, so delicious! I baked them while listening to The Hatch - a podcast that dissects each episode of the show Lost (the hosts don't like Jack, who is my favorite character, so listening to this podcast might be short lived).

I was listening to a webinar this afternoon led by Jess Connolly and she talked about getting to the why of a goal. She said to make it a habit to ask yourself - "why is this a goal?" Power comes in holding the why up to the light. So, my why is because it brings joy. There are some recipes in there that I've never attempted before and I think there is a lot of beauty in failing. Also, who doesn't like good food!?

Cheers to all the food joy this year! 

Cynicism

My church hosted the Orange Tour this past fall. It's an exciting two days of main sessions and breakouts and providing a physical space and environment for ministry leaders to refill. It truly is one of my favorite events of the year. An honor to be a part of the hosting. 

One of the breakout sessions this time was led by Carey Neuiwhof called "7 something habits for leaders something something." Sometimes those titles are cliche to me, but I decided to sneak in and listen because I like the things Carey does. So, I snuck in the back and started to listen. 

He was talking about leadership and unhealthy habits that we don't see coming. 
And then he started talking about cynicism. 
And then I started to get uncomfortable. 
I headed to the bookstore, bought the book, and read the first chapter in the lobby during breaks.

Umm yeah. I am cynical. 

The sentence that really got me - "cynicism is born not because you don't care, but because you do care."
I CARE. I CARE SO MUCH. About the world and about politics and about the criminal justice system and about the state of our country and the influence of the Church and about my vocation and my calling and about you and about me. The tension of the news tears me apart. The frequency in which Christians turn on one another keeps me up at night. The plight of the Church is a lifelong calling. It's all so much and I care so deeply. And so, lately, the only way to survive is to give up. 

How tremendously sad. Cynicism is a tragedy. 

I didn't used to be this way. I am a natural problem solver at heart. You've heard me talk about it before - I am an Enneagram Type One and so I am naturally driven and analytical. A world set right is a dream. I thrive on creativity and using my brain space for the good of others. I am naturally curious - I believe curiosity is our most holy gift - and I am a question asker at heart. But lately, I can't find an outlet that satisfies my internal frustration. All the time, it threatens to overtake me. My personal circumstances and the circumstances of the world are numerous. LET'S MAKE IT BETTER. But when there are barriers that I feel like I cannot cross, my creativity is stifled. And then I feel stifled. It's why #thethirdthing has been so life-giving. 

All of that to say, it is a dangerous place to be. I feel it affecting every core of my being. 

Carey writes in his book that curiosity is the antidote to cynicism. I see that and I hear it and I tip my hat to it. But I think, well, curiosity is a part of what got me here in the first place.

So, maybe on a practical level, the answer is curiosity. Never stop asking questions, return to the root of how and who God made you to be, take time to dream. All good things, all great things. But maybe there's a deeper answer. Maybe it's more about surrender than anything. A conviction that we live in the "already, not yet," in the very tension of both the death of this world and the resurrection of the Kingdom. The process of refinement and rejuvenation is hard, but each moment is holy. There are parts of my story that are riddled with wounds, but I can choose. I can choose to become cold and hard or I can choose to return these things back to the One who is always on the move.

But also, there's great value in discerning when cynicism may be telling you something else. When a physical surrender may be what God is asking you to do. Maybe the roots have stopped growing and sprouting because the soil has gone dry. And that's something to grieve, but not something to stop the flow of hope in your life. 

Hope is oxygen. 
Okay, back to my book. 

A Jimmy Fallon Approach

I read an article once about The Tonight Show starring Jimmy Fallon. The article, from the New York Times, talked about how Jimmy reigned over the late night world. His ratings and his following was unlike any other late night host. 

And then, President Trump was elected... 

and Jimmy’s ratings dropped significantly. He had taken a different approach than his other late night counterparts before and since the presidential election. Whereas Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel and Seth Meyers had directly talked about, mocked, made speeches about, and took hard stances against the president and his policies, Fallon had not. He even had Trump on his show and he ruffled his bright orange hair in what was meant to be a playful gesture and mocking, but came across as acceptance and incredibly offensive to Fallon’s followers (do you remember that infamous moment?). 

Suddenly, Jimmy’s humor wasn’t as funny as it used to be. People weren’t having it. What once made Jimmy Fallon unique and special and above the rest - his games, his laughter, his childlike innocence, his creativity, his dancing, his ability to turn something ordinary into something extraordinary - wasn’t good enough. The public wanted opinions, views, a clear deviation from what was happening politically. 

It’s fascinating, isn’t it?

When push comes to shove, when the world is as chaotic as it is at right this second, we look to what is said. What will we say? It’s always about the words. What will we say, what speech will we craft, what verbal acknowledgement will we give to a situation. We all get busy on Twitter, hashtags blow up, pastors take to the pulpit, late night hosts make monologues, and then

… a few weeks later… 

it all falls silent. 

Words are so incredibly important, I am the first to say that. But words cannot be void of action. I read a lot of tweets after the tragedy in Charlottesville, Virginia a few years ago that went something like this - “if your pastor doesn’t talk about what happened tomorrow morning in his sermon, you should leave your church.” 

And then I read one that said - “if your pastor doesn’t talk about what happened tomorrow morning in his sermon, don’t leave your church - stay and be the church.” 

Yes. I like this. I think this is on to something. 

Maybe, instead, what will we do? Who will we invite over for dinner? Who will we ask how they’re doing? Who will we invest in? Who will we empathize with? Who will we sit next to? How will we give our lives away? How will we bring creativity, joy, and light into this world? How will we leave this place better than when we found it? These things influence more than we think they do. 

Beauty, beauty, beauty. We have a choice in that. 

Love, love, love. We have a choice in that. 

So Jimmy, keep on making the world laugh. It’s a nice break from the words.

Ones and Nines

I've never quite understood myself. 

I often respond differently than others and have always wondered why. I feel deeply - for myself, for others, for the world - and never could quite understand what it meant or how to use it for good. Things frustrate me more than they seem to frustrate others. Why? 

Ian Morgan Cron, author of The Road Back To You, says this - "The greatest mystery in our lives - next to God - is ourselves." 

So, I began to study.. the mystery of myself. 

I discovered the Enneagram. Type One. The Reformer. These titles and labels and numbers simply speak of a God who delights in His children as unique, wonderful, and rare. 

My brain is wired to try to understand. I pick things apart and strive for improvement. I see things through the eye of an observer - driven passionate uncompromising conscientious. I toss and turn something over in my mind, looking at each angle and analyzing each perspective. At my best, I am wise and discerning. At my worst, I am critical and resentful. And the road in between health and un-health is littered with grace. 

The podcast Sleeping at Last described this about the Type One: 
"Folks who are dominant Type One are some of the most principled people that you know. Because their standard for integrity is set so high that it leads to this inner ache of frustration. And that frustration comes from the idealism that the world needs to be perfect, that good needs to be celebrated, that every thing that should be aligned must be aligned. 

Folks who are dominant Type One actually take a lot of the pressure and the responsibility on themselves. They try to be better, they strive harder to improve themselves and everything they're a part of. 

It's hard for Type Ones when they are in relationship because when someone doesn't live up to their role, when someone drops the ball, when someone fails to contribute their best, the Ones actually even over-identify with that malformation or diminishment and they take it upon themselves. 

It's hard for them, this personal sense of moral duty and obligation. It becomes this voice, this loop, in their mind which is enhanced and turned up by their inner critic, their super ego. Their "oughts" and "should" sound like criticism because they're constantly second guessing the words they use, the quality of their performance. They are always criticizing themselves. 

And if we know this about Type Ones, it should lead us to feel a tremendous sense of compassion for them. Because they are really are the best people we know. They really are some of the most integrious folks who have such clarity, who really manage their own emotion, for the good or bad of it they repress their own anger. But it's that frustrated idealism that really is their invitation to rest. 

If you're dominant Type One, you need to let yourself off the hook. You're the one that reminds us of what is good, you're the one that brings the serenity of that goodness and excellence and integrity and principled vitality forward. And you can really trust yourself."

I read that over and over again and it makes me feel like someone is inside my body and my mind and I cheer at who I am.

But the best thing that has come out of this ride is that learning myself = learning others. 

One of my friends and I - I am a One, he is a Nine. The One - Reformer, the Nine - Peacemaker. I am loud, emotional, doggedly committed to knowing and chasing right. He is patient, kind, peaceful, committed to people. We get along well and believe in the same things, but in moments of conflict, stress, tension, or crisis, we are - quite possibly - the very opposite. I want to dissect it, find who or what's at fault, put the eye black on, fight to the end, declare a victor. He is slow, wise, thoughtful, willing to let things go for the sake of peace. 

The dynamic between a One and a Nine as described by The Enneagram Institute is one of start and stop, pause and go, of compromise, humility, grace, and trust. 

But here's the cool part, the really amazing part. 
Neither of us are wrong. 
Neither of us are right. 
We have to give each other permission to feel how we are each wired to feel, knowing that the more or less does not mean right or wrong. 
There's actually a generous and courageous complement that exists in those who fight and those who choose compassion. The Nines calm the Ones, while the Ones drive the Nines. 

I can't think of a better team. 
And the same goes for Ones and Sixes, Ones and Eights, Twos and Threes, Fives and Sevens, and on and on.. 

When we begin to understand ourselves, we begin to understand others. And when we begin to understand others, we begin to live in harmony. And when we live in harmony, we begin to live as the Kingdom designs us to live. 

There's a gracious God who delights in us. He delights in the way He knit us. Because of this, I have to come to understand God in a richer, holier, and much larger way. 

He above and intentionally beyond measure walks us down hard roads to shape us and craft us before He positions us. He is faithful, He is kind, He has never abandoned us because we are too complicated or not what He imagined. 

We are knit for high and holy purposes, intentionally where we are for such a time as this. And it's allowed me to lean into the holy mystery that is humanity. Every one of us. 

To the Family Ministry Team

This summer was crazy.

At the beginning of the summer, our Kids and Student ministries combined into one giant team called Family Ministry. It was a complete change, restructuring, upheaval. What used to be was no longer. Everything was new. It was the best change that could have happened for the direction of our church and our ministries and our campuses, but - in short - it was hard. 

That was it. It was hard. 

There is one important lesson that has emerged as the dust on this summer has settled...

My people. 
I work with the very best people. 
My people were there when life was only one foot in front of the other. 

I saw grace and kindness and community and humility unlike anything I’ve experienced before. We weren’t just a group of people who worked side by side and then quietly packed up at the end of the day. We slaved together, we cried together, we checked each other’s pulses (literally), we asked the questions that needed to be asked. We listened, we grieved, we celebrated, sometimes we didn’t need to speak at all. It was the most tangible example of grace I have ever experienced. 

I saw it when my co-worker, instead of going to the gym, drove back to the church to sit with me and celebrate a minor but significant moment I had accomplished earlier that day. 

I saw it in the constant phone calls and texts that asked a simple question - “I see you. Are you okay?”

I saw it when my friend meant to give me a gift, but ended up giving me a nickname that has spanned the entire summer and beyond. You know how much I love a good nickname. 

I saw it in safe places of conversation and vulnerability.

I saw it in the genuine concern (which turned into genuine laughter) when I fell out of an eno in Haiti and had a bruise the size of a small child. 

I saw it when a friend looked me right in the eye and didn’t shield or move away from the heaviness of grief. 

I saw it in the mantra of “we’re going to make it,” in the firm and steady belief that transition is temporary and this new season was going to be greater than anything we ever could have hoped for. 

I saw it in the seeing, the recognition of one to another, of the Deep in me encouraging the Deep in you. 

I saw it the opening of our homes to one another, no matter the time or day or hour. 

I saw it in “read this book, this book reminds me of you."

I saw it in the commitment of these people to be where God has called them to be, to do the work God has called them to do. 

I saw it in approaching the throne of grace with confidence for one another and finding mercy and grace to help in a time of need. 

I saw it in a friend who stayed on the phone with me for an hour and a half one night as I cared for a student, just so I wouldn’t fall asleep. 

This is all grace to me. 

I am convinced that when we get to the end of our lives, if we have stood for people, we will have stood for something. This is much more powerful than I think our finite brains can wrap its mind around. Love has the power to do much more than we give it credit for. Love is such a long game. Love - over time - has the power to do what we underestimate it to do. 

Bit by bit, step by step, coffee by coffee, word by word, laugh by laugh, we survived. And we not only survived, we survived together. And we not only survived together, we thrived together. 

You guys, ministry is the good life. You are dedicated to Kingdom work, to helping students and kids and families see Jesus differently. You help point people to hope, to a new story, to a Gospel of Grace. You help people see that the Church, that God, is for them. WHAT COULD BE BETTER. And even more so, to have people to recenter you and encourage you and keep you moving one foot in front of the other, well, this is my feeble attempt to articulate that it has the power to save lives. 

So, friends. Thank you. This is such a sweet season. We are at the beginning of something so good. I read a quote from Michael Gungor once that I’d like to quote here - 

“I hope to help you step back and see more clearly what you are trying to do with your work. To those with weary and blistered fingers, this is your invitation to hike with me back up to the ledge, take in the big picture, and remember who we are and why we do what we do. After we’ve remembered and drawn in a few deep breaths of that crisp desert air, may we be filled with courage to descend once more into the valley where the work gets done.”

Team, you have been my invitation. You have been the hike. You are my sight of the big picture. You are my remembering. You are the crisp desert air. You are the courage to turn around and walk back into the valley. 

Onward and upward, together!

The Self Examination of Leslie Knope

Y'all. Leslie Knope and I are the same person.

Leslie, the fictional blonde-haired, crazy-eyed government employee of a small town in Indiana, yes the two of us are the same. It's like watching myself on screen. She's joyfully, annoyingly crazy. She's loud, on the go, and is loyal to a fault. She's enthusiastic and passionate about her job. She's motivated by her love for people. She responds irrationally to situations and has a corner to point her in the right direction. She verbally processes, a string of thoughts just falling out of her mouth. I AM HER.

I've seen Parks and Rec episodes numerous times. Most of the time, it's just on in my apartment, while I'm moving around, doing other things. I can quote it like a boss. It's been a source of hilarious comfort to feel a bond with a person who doesn't exist.

I also have a coffee mug that says, "be the Leslie Knope of whatever you do."

I really think we can learn from anything and everything.

Lately, I've been thinking about self examination. I'm always thinking about self-examination. You know, the whole crazy painful beautiful process of becoming more fully and wholly and freely who Christ made you to be. Man, it's tough sometimes. It's layer after layer, peeling to the core. I sit down with my LifeGroup ladies and hear them talk about discovering who they are and they didn't realize this about themselves and who am I?? and what is this?? and I think, I'm right there with you. It's a wild, interesting, crazy process.

And the process never ends.

It can knock you off your guard. Make you feel like you're stuck floating in a snow globe. But sometimes, I actually don't hate it. When I can see it for what it is, it's actually really, really cool. When I can see the work of all God, I can see the way He is sanctifying and reforming me.

He is intentional and intricate and He really, really cares. 

Leslie got a new job in season 4 and had to make a new, unpopular decision in season 5 and she feels disoriented and unsure and like she's lost her bearings on her values. Good and faithful and steady Ron Swanson looks her in the eye and says in no uncertain terms get yourself together and reminds her that her circumstances may have changed, but her values have not. The core of who she is has not. She remains hardworking and passionate and believes in the best interests of people. Her context may have changed, she will grow tremendously, but her character has not. She will be stretched, but she will be better.

Because don't those turn out to be the greatest seasons of life, those in which we groan and stretch and attempt to run, but once we move forward, we find that we are better for it? Our self, our soul, is being shaped into fullness and doesn't that almost never happen in stagnancy or complacency?

This process reminds me of words from the song Ever Be on my Lips. We sang it last week as a staff and these lines came alive,

you father the orphan
your kindness makes us whole
and you shoulder our weakness
and your strength becomes our own
now you're making me like you
clothing me in white
bringing beauty from ashes

Making me more like you.

Life is a sweet journey.
Wherever you are, God knows.
He believes in your life.

Soul

My life looks very different than it used to look, in a lot of ways.

It is fuller, busier, more challenging, more joyful. I have really amazing conversations with people on a regular basis. I am asking questions of myself that I never have before. I am surrounded by people who make me better in every way. It is purest gift from the Lord.

Recently, I was in the midst of transition and I'll be honest with you, it was hard. I had no control over my calendar (Kendall, where you at?). My time was telling me what to do. I was hitting uncomfortable and new areas and thinking that I had no idea what I was doing. 

My soul was tired. 
I turned my phone off and ran away to the beach. 

That week, I began reading a book by one of my favorite authors. Her stories are so whimsical and magical, full of joy and full of hope. I've been reading her books for years. I was reading her newest on the beach, borrowed from my sweet friend, with the sand in my feet and the sound of the waves in my ear. This one was about the adventures of three friends during one summer. It was a hilariously sweet story about companionship and beauty pageants and cats and dogs. So deliriously weird. But there was a layer of depth to it, a layer about the soul. 

I remember reading it one afternoon on the beach and felt something stirring deep within me. This character, I related to her so much. Her words about her own soul, I connected with them. It was so very tangible. The imaginative, creative, childlike side of me responded. She resurfaced and squealed and I gasped at the freedom and the surprise at her unearthing. It all felt so.. familiar. It was familiar, the part of me that dreams and hopes and believes in stories real and imagined. 

It was so familiar. You know what I mean? That familiar feeling when you meet something or someone and you think there you are. I have been waiting for you. I have been missing you and didn't even realize it. But now that you are here, I wonder how I made it. You're it. That's what felt off. 

It almost feels too sacred to document.

I was having breakfast with one of my sweet friends this past weekend. I love her deeply, we have known each other since her high school days (now she is off to NYC adventures!). I asked her about faith and she began talking about grace. 

I believe God believes in my life. Grace is nuts and it is so important and it is a reality. Grace is a reality. 

My soul said yes yes. The same piece of the soul that resurfaced at the beach nodded in agreement. Yes yes. God believes in my life. 

The soul is first. Fortify the soul. I tell my leaders and my students and my peers that I have learned this the hard way, that the only way you can care for other people's souls well is if you care for your own. The only way. There is no other way. 

My soul needs coffee. It needs Jesus and clouds and laughter and friends. It needs conversation and stories and whimsy and rest. It needs freedom and words and adventure and song. It needs grace and peace and hope and joy. It needs life. 

I refuse to let my soul languish. I refuse to live a frantic life. I refuse to live joyless. I refuse to not put armor on each day. I refuse to push prayer to the wayside. I refuse to not soak in the beauty that is all around me. I refuse to live complacent. 

The soul lives and when the soul lives, I am able to experience the fullest and freest life. And when I experience my fullest and freest, I am more able to point others to their fullest and freest lives. The full and free life is Jesus. 

Onward and upward, friends!