The Grinch is Welcome

It's official. 

My favorite Christmas movie is How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Jim Carrey style. 

I love it because it's an incredible story. Dr. Seuss knew how to tell a good story. Redemption, hope, welcoming those who don't feel welcome, all the things. But this year, on the third time through, I'm starting to see this story fully and differently. 

When Cindy Lou-Who goes to the Grinch's lair and invites him to the Whobilation, it feels so important. Because she's just not afraid. She's not afraid of the outcast. She doesn't see him as different. She sees him alone and she sees Christmas and she thinks, "why can't he be a part of this?"

And then she invites him in. She extends an invitation for him to join into what they're doing. She goes to his house, looks him in the eye, and tells him that he's welcome. 

Because everyone is welcome. Even those who seem to reject it and are green and terrifying and are really, really messy, well, they're all welcome. It's really an extraordinary idea. Can you imagine what it would change? If everyone knew they were welcome?

I think it sounds simple, yet the depths of welcome are unfathomable. 

And in this season of Christmas, God came down to us in the form of a baby and told us that we are welcome. Jesus spread his arms and said, "come, you're in!" He changed everything. 

May you experience extraordinary peace, hope, and love this season and a great sense of the invitation you've been extended. You are welcome.

The Alternative

I literally do not have time to write this.

I have an essay due Monday on the eschatology of the New Testament and a message to learn and give tomorrow, but I've got blog thoughts and they must come. One thing I've learned in the past year or so is that it is essential we do what brings us rest and peace. Or else we become less full versions of ourselves. Doing the things we love make us free.

I've been thinking a lot about the alternative. I'll explain what I mean. I've actually seen it the most in my life when it comes to hope. Hope is so beautiful and life giving and the very breath we breathe, but it's so unbearable, so risky, feels so dangerous. To hope is to believe, to open yourself up and pull it right out into the path of disappointment. Hope is, if I'm being honest, very scary. The letdown feels too much to make hope even an option. 

But then, I think about the alternative to hope. Is fear the alternative? Isn't living in fear ultimately the choice we make when we turn our backs on hope? I am convinced it is. I'm convinced we clam up, tighten our fists, curl in a ball, and cringe as each new day comes. Those are the effects of fear. So while hope seems so painfully scary, I know that I do NOT want fear. I'll do anything to avoid a life of fear. I don't really know, but in some cases, I know I don't want the alternative.

So it can be said of my day today. 

I don't want to do something. I won't go into what or why or how because to be honest, I don't even know. It's one of those being stuck, hearing lies, confusion kind of things. It's very weird. But anyway, that was my day today. I just sat and stared and couldn't will myself to prepare or do what needed to be done. It was very confusing. On that top of that, I couldn't really quite name it either. Usually once I name a roadblock or a fear, I can sail past it. But this time, I kind of just sat. I knew fear was winning, but it felt like too much of a hard thing to try and overcome. It felt like I was laying down under a slab of concrete. 

And the only real comfort I could find was my disdain for the alternative. I was choosing the alternative. While I don't want to do this thing, I don't want to not do it (haha. double negative). I never want fear to win.. ever. And that certainty in my life (fear=death) is helping me walk slowly towards wholeness, towards the hard thing. Maybe it's too overwhelming to pick the answer or decide right away, but what if we eliminated options? Fear is off the table. Backing down is out of the question. Disengaging is not on the radar. Rejecting people is just not an option. Now what? What now? What is left? And while that may seem scary, it's not fear winning. Because in the end, you'll end up choosing something that fear says you couldn't. 

mmm. yes. 

So, there are those things you and I are not quite sure about. It's the life of being in seminary, I guess, or maybe it's just our plight as humans. You believe something your whole life and then you learn something new and you think, why did I ever believe that one thing in the first place? No seriously, you really cannot remember ever coming to that conclusion. Did it just appear in your brain (?), and now new knowledge is threatening to change it (hi readers. nice to meet you. i hate change. k. bye). Or the craziest is when YOU change. You become more whole and free and real. No joke. Being alive is exhausting. 

So I camp out in the Gospels and read about the person of Jesus because I think sweet relief, He never changes. He is the best choice, He is Hope, the greatest alternative to fear. I think he would say, "my girl, get out from under that slab of concrete and start doing the hard thing. It's a part of how you grow. Fear is powerful, but I am more powerful. We can do it. It's messy and weird and you probably won't get it right the first or tenth time, but fear.will.not.win. My grace is much, much bigger." I'm sure He gave that speech to Peter a handful of times. 

Okay, back to work. Seeya when I seeya. 

Serial

I've been listening to a lot of Serial lately. 

I say "a lot of Serial" instead of just "Serial" because I have been re-listening to episodes #sorrynotsorry.

It's an amazing podcast, full of crime and intrigue, puzzles and details (all the things I love). I really could go on and on and fill multiple blog posts about it .. but I'll save my verbal processing for my closest friends. 

Serial tells the story of a murder case that happened 15 years ago. We hear piece by piece of the story every week, and it really is so fascinating. But one thing that has grabbed me the most in the ten episodes so far is when the storyteller, Sarah, talks about spin.

Every piece of information has spin, she says. You hear a piece of information, any piece of information - for example, "Adnan was a devout Muslim and because of his family's religion, he hid his relationship from them"- and then it could mean either one of two things. 1) Adnan was a liar. He was deceptive and sneaky and betrayed his family. or 2) Adnan was just like every other American teenager and had a girlfriend. It wasn't an portrayal of poor character, just a illustration that he was just like everyone else. 

There is a side to everything. It's how lawyers win cases. It's how anybody does anything. And so many times throughout Serial, I'm floored by how true that is. How one thing could mean this.. or it could mean this. Which one is the right one? Are they both right? It's confusing, isn't it? Is there a source, in any given situation, for truth?

And so it is with our lives, isn't it? Something happens and as the situation or conversation or whatever takes on a more clear picture in my mind, I wait to see where I will land. Was that person offending me? Were they encouraging me? Was that personal? Was it not personal? I feel like I teeter so much in the middle. Where will the gauntlet land, where will I decide to rest this situation? How will I spin this? Is it spinning? Is it not? Sometimes it feels like such a crapshoot. 

It's why I am so adamant about the Armor of God. It's why I think my pride will eventually be the death of me. It's why I believe prayer is a daily decision of life or death. It's why I'm always whispering to myself "God is always good, I am always loved." It's why I play Real or Not Real. I'm taking a New Testament class this semester while simultaneously learning about Ephesians with ADVANCE and Paul's letters are packed with how to live a wise life. Be kind, be humble, be like Christ. I guess it's all serving as a filter when and as the confusion hits.  

Maybe you're like me and you sense those precious and weighted moments in time. You know what I'm talking about? Those make or break moments, they smack me hard in the face. You're faced with something // and these are the moments where the choice screams before the spin. 

I could go one of two ways, but I want it to be automatic. I want to know where I'm going to land. I want to land in humility, in assuming the best. I want to land in thinking less about myself, more of others. I want to land in kindness, graciousness, compassion. In wisdom, thoughtfulness, Christ-mindedness. It's a daily battle, but I want it to become ingrained in me. 

I'm reading Anne Lamott's new book (Small Victories) and it's gold. She writes about feeling welcome, living a life of welcome (I want to underline and quote the entire thing. I'll save that for another post). But there's this one part in there that I love so much. She writes about her community and how when she first discovered them, their welcome was both lovely and confusing. She said she had always thought of herself one way - "I figured it was obvious I was a fraud and kind of disgusting" - but her friends saw her as someone else entirely - "my friends thought I was irresistible, profoundly worthy of trust." Then she writes this //

"I thought at first that one view must be wrong, so I made the most radical decision, for the time being, to believe my friends." 

Yes, Anne, one view is wrong. When presented with a piece of information (whether Adnan betrayed his family or not.. or in Anne's case, her very being, your very identity), the spin doesn't have to dominate. And each choice towards obedience and wholeness, makes for a more full and free me. 

for the record, for my Serial people, I believe Adnan was trustworthy and just a normal American teenager. 

Dear Isolation

Dear Isolation.
You are no friend of mine.

I drift so easily towards you. You open your arms so enticingly and I walk right into your trap. I can't get out of your embrace easily, so I hang out there. And you're so cunning and you whisper lies to me, that I don't need anyone and that I'm just fine there. Oh isolation, you are dangerous and you fill me with a combination of burden and numbness. You feed pride and you feed confusion. 

You cloud what's real and not real. In your presence, I'm terrified. 

I gorge on Netflix. I avoid all people. I disengage because I think this season will be easier to walk through alone. Isolation, you make life ten times harder and joy ten times harder to find. You're a choice I make, and yet you seem to be a choice I can't make. 

But the good news is that vulnerability is your biggest nemesis and verbal processing just happens to be one of my best tools to fight. 

So, I'll put my armor on. Day by day, each new morning. 

Guarding my mind with the sword of the Spirit, the Word of God. 

And prayer, yes prayer. 

So hear me friends, as I struggle to face isolation and the unknown and the meantime by myself, there are people in your corner who are dying to fight with you. They're dying for you to come back to the corner, sit on the stool for rest, get some water, wipe your brow, get you ready for round two (or three or four or ten)

They're dying to get in the ring with you, take a few shots for you. 

Let them in. 

You don't have to have it all figured out. And you don't have to have it all figured out alone. 

But start unraveling the mess in your mind by starting somewhere. One step.

Fight. 

Freedom awaits. 

A Letter for Those Who Feel Like They Can't Do the Hard Thing

Hey friends. 

This post was headed in a completely different direction. 

I feel like I've been dragging lately. I feel like I'm juggling fourteen things at once with just two hands and I can't do them all well and I am just oh so tired. All the hard things. If I could just stop feeling so much or discipline myself to go to the gym more or do schoolwork every night. I want to throw all structure and calendars into a fiery flame. can i get an amen?

I had lunch with a dear corner friend today, and we just processed all the hard things. Each of us in two very different seasons, but each a resounding me too. And I was so comforted. That women helping women can breathe hope into tired wearied souls. And what keeps resounding in my head is dig in, dig in, dig in. 

So, this letter is to say I know. I hear you, sisters. Life is sometimes hard and messy and stops for no man.

But I want to breathe hope today. 

This hard thing that we've chosen or that we've been called to or that has been dumped into our lives like something unwanted, lets say it's possible. The it can look like daily, practical discipline, or maybe it is just surviving. 

Is school your hard thing? Any kind of school // middle, high, college, graduate. Maybe you just hate learning, or maybe you love it but it's a hard semester, or maybe you're just not good at it. It's taking more discipline than you have - financially, socially, relationally. 

Or maybe it's your next new adventure that is taking more out of you than you were willing to sacrifice. Maybe you're just exhausted // of the unknown and the new and the discomfort. 

Or maybe you know what you need to do LIKE GET YOUR BUTT TO THE GYM OR GET YOUR FACE IN THE WORD. And you blame exhaustion that is keeping you from doing it. 

I say amen to all of that. A-men. 

Life is hard. Marriage and parenting and work and friendships and finances and family // I think it's all a hard balancing act. Each one a place of refining all on its own, much less combined! Praise God for these hard places, yeah? Somewhere in the hard graces, they keep us flailing back to Him. They keep us remembering and living grace upon grace, gratitude and freedom, and this new life we have. 

So maybe you just need this today // Adjust, take that step that you've been hesitating to take. Stay up later to study, find a rhythm, get a workout buddy, ask for help, meet with someone to go through your finances. Have that hard conversation. Above all, REST. Then get up and get moving.

Come on, let's do it together. Dig in and do what's hard. 
Lean hard into this thing. I promise you this is all a worthy sacrifice.

But, then there are those of you {of us} who are in the meantime. 
This time of waiting is your hard thing. There really isn't much you can do on your end to change this circumstance that you so desperately want to see changed. 

I spent most of last week listening to North Point Church's latest series and feeling burdened. For those in a season that they just don't want. For those in a season they just didn't ask for. For those who can't see the end. For those who have prayed the prayers of Paul (remove this thorn) and of Jesus (take this cup). For those who haven't yet reached your power is made perfect in my weakness or nevertheless your will be done. For those that have reached that peace, that surrender, but just need an every day reminder. 

Maybe you've prayed so many times face down in the carpet to realize that maybe this is the road God is calling you to walk. 

So, hear me when I say. 
Where you are is valid. 
When you're not sure where God is taking you, I know. 
Let me believe for you // unfailingly and unflinchingly. 
I believe {because our God is a good God} that you can live in this meantime and experience abundant joy. 

You can do the hard thing. 
You can walk this road. 

Name it, speak it out loud, run head first into whatever scares you. I really believe that is one part of the key to the beginning of freedom, of surrender. Fear loses all its power when you tell it who's boss. The hard season may remain, yes, but now there is room for joy to rush out of it. It's the way our God works. 

Maybe this letter is your freedom. You're allowed to have those kinds of days where you acknowledge the hard. There are some chosen hards, some unchosen. Give ourselves some time, some tears, some mentalwork, and a clarifying moment may emerge that asks, can we glorify God in these seasons? 

The road may seem hard and long, and the end unclear. The why may not have been answered. But you are not alone. Our God promises to be with us, especially in the meantime. Especially in the hard. And He's not only with us, He's gone before us. He's not surprised by anything. And He loves you. I believe He is working something beautiful in your story, something that will blow you away, even when you feel like you can't see up from down. The value of where you are, where you've been, where you're going // well, it's more than you could imagine for yourself. 

Tbh, I really don't know a whole lot. I don't know how to explain it. But I do know God is good. He comes and pursues each of us uniquely. It's all such a mystery sometimes, but He is constant and good. Sovereign and divine. Compassionate and gracious. He cares deeply for the lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost minds (hand raised). 

Take a deep breath. 
You don't have to have it all figured out.

Rest (and Pumpkin Spice Lattes)

We have a really good friend who is a leader of one of our High school girl's Lifegroups. I find myself constantly referencing her, praising her. She's that great // she loves our girls so well.

She's a public school teacher, and the other day we went to her high school and had lunch with her. It's one of my favorite parts of my job // entering into the schools, going to where our students are. Talking with them, meeting their friends, encouraging the teachers who lead with us. It's such a highlight for me. 

This particular school day, we asked our leader what she sees in teenagers on a daily basis. What do they need, what are they struggling with, what is real to them. And she said, "rest. They need rest. To stop, to unplug, just rest."

Rest. 

And that latched on to something in my brain and wouldn't let go. 

I have always misunderstood rest. It's a need to unplug, yes, and it's a need for physical rest, yes // but it has to be so much more. There is a restorative nature to it. 

To rest is to restore. 

There has got to be a calm about resting, a lying down in green pastures.

A pause. 

So, lately I've been practicing the discipline of restoring. 

• I've woken up late one day, at the time I should have been somewhere. But something in me just sat up, shrugged my shoulders, got ready without rushing, stopped by Starbucks for a PSL, and made it to prayer time.
• I've chatted with my long distance soul sister. We shared all our recent learnings and encouraged one another, in the usual and in the new. 
• I've wandered around Target with a pumpkin spice latte and bought some organizational supplies (praise God from whom all blessings flow). 

And what I am discovering is that, for me, rest is being present in the moment I am currently in. Not leaping ahead, not going over and over what's behind, but being here. Tell my thoughts to CHILL OUT, I will get to you later.  

Rest is weirdly elusive and stupidly mysterious. And so maybe this blog post was just written to point you to a better blog post // will ya go to werewolfjesus.com and read what rest really does for our souls?

I particularly love this part //

"I think this has been a vital first lesson - not just because of the general importance of rest, but because it brings us weirdly closer when we help each other pursue rest. The rested versions of ourselves are more thoughtful and less snippy and have greater self-control. The rested versions of ourselves say thank you and give advice and share stories. But most  importantly, the rested versions of ourselves carve space to sit with Jesus and be reminded of who (and whose) we are. We stop demanding completion and affirmation from each other. We are recharged to love each other better and deeper when we spend time with Love."

And that takes me back to our Life Group leader. 
And what we all need. 
We're all in pursuit of this rest, because oftentimes the rested versions of ourselves is the better versions of ourselves. And these words are helping me realize that my rested self leads to my best self, which in turn helps others to be their best and fullest selves. What a cool cycle! We remind each other of who we are.

So, go rest. 
Go take a nap. Work out. Do something active. Read. Write. Paint. Sing. Listen to a podcast. Drink PSLs. Bake something. Create something. Memorize Scripture. Drink a cup of coffee. Be still. Have a life giving conversation with someone. Spend time with Jesus. Whatever it looks like, practice rest (like for me, right now, I am currently at Amelie's not doing any schoolwork. Because I just felt like writing. My soul rests).

I told my Life group this the other day, and so I'll tell you too. If I look out of it and disengaged and disoriented, will you ask me if I've written lately? Because that's how I pursue rest, that's where I am quieted and calmed and present and restored. A dear friend asked me that once quite a few years ago in a season of crisis and it helped restore my mind after a long period of not writing. And I think that question was the first step in this journey of rest // this better, recharged-to-love, version of me. 

So, how do you pursue restorative rest?
Can I help you get there?

Mind

I don't think my mind works like most people's. Does it, do you people get like this? 

How do I put this .. nothing leaves my mind. I've got a full plate up there. If I haven't talked about it or written it down or faced each thought with the care it needs (bless it, bless my needy little mind), it stays up there. 

I think a large part of it is because I love puzzles. I love the real life ones. It's why I love Law and Order SVU, why I love doing receipts at work, why I love a task that has an obvious result. 1+1 = 2. If I spend time on this - researching and studying and reading and writing and talking - it will equal this. I roll around in the details with joy and throw them in the air like confetti because one day THEY WILL FORM SOMETHING GLORIOUS. 

This + this = that. 

But hello, I work with people. I'm in ministry. I'm a pastor. There is no formula, people are messy, I'm messy, there is no this + this = that. Sometimes things aren't where they are supposed to be and sometimes people disagree and sometimes change happens. And as 'normal, everyday life' as that sounds, it always gives me pause. 

It's one of my favorite things that God has ever taught me. That sweet, patient, gracious God. He always whispers to me, "If you always focus on the answer, you will miss the big picture."

And that's it. I miss it. I write this to remind myself tonight and tomorrow and then again next week. With my obsessive love of to-do lists and crossing things off and putting things where they need to go, I am missing it. I step back and gasp at what the faithfulness of God has created. All of these tasks I do, they are important! But as a small part of the larger piece of Kingdom work. And all the things I stressed about or wondered about are (let's be honest) major on the minor. And I can see that God works without needing to know where storage bins are or check in computers go. His work isn't limited by our human competence (or incompetence, amen? Amen).  

I love the way I've been made. I love the way my mind works. I love that I am a thinker, that my mind is vibrant and alive and full of poignant thoughts. It likes to check and double check and double check again. It makes me, me. 

But above that and above all. 
God is good. His work is good. He's got good, mighty, and powerful things up His sleeve. And as my friend always used to tell me, God is a sneaky God. So go forth with EYES OPEN. and don't miss what He's doing.