Friends with the Martian

One of my girls came home from college a few months ago and we talked about friendship. Having walked through transitions with friends, both of us. We sat on the couch in my safe place and talked about seeing differently, having the hard conversation, showing empathy. It is all such a journey. 

I sigh and look up and feel my palms open. To be in relationship with people is to live with arms open wide. To be a gracious and kind, humble and serving friend, co-worker, daughter, sister means to live with open palms. I want to close my fists and hold tight, but deep calls out to deep that there is something more whole and free. 

I read The Martian a few months ago. The movie was good, but the book was exceptional. It is a fantastically scientific book, full of tense moments and space humor. There was this one sentence early on in the book that I kept reading over and over again. I still see it in my mind now. The astronaut Mark Watney (aka Matt Damon) is stranded on the planet Mars and as his team on Earth works to get him home, they begin to describe what kind of person Mark is and what kind of asset he is to their team. He's witty and a jokester, resourceful and a genius. But it's this sentence that hits the core of who Mark is..

Mark not only fits in well with any social group, he's a catalyst to make the group work better.

A catalyst is a person or thing that causes an event to happen. In this case, the event is that the team works better. The group is more successful because of Mark's presence. He makes his team of astronauts better. This sentence gets me. It makes me teary just thinking about it. I strive for this. 

Make others better.

Lose the expectations. We all have named or unnamed, fair or unfair expectations and standards in our mind that we hold above other people. We expect them to call, come over, help with this, ask about that. And when they don't, we are crushed. These expectations often aren't communicated, and so unknowingly, we have set people up to fail. And when we set our friends up to fail, we fail. It is an exhausting way of life. Let's agree to lose the expectations. Let's be open with one another, let's meet halfway, let's talk it out. Let's stop expecting perfection and start showering each other with grace. See differently. 

Assume the best. There will come moments when you have a choice. You will have heard something about your friend or you will have experienced a moment of hurt. Maybe it's all legitimate. But what if we chose to believe the best possible thing about one another? What if we chose the truth? To take people at their word, in the purest way possible? What if there was no more gray area or weird reality confusion about this or that? What if we just chose the best and consequently, chose freedom? Sometimes thoughts can create a reality that is dark and isn't even real. Tell those lies that enough is enough. You're choosing the best. 

Be motivated by love and kindness. Let all your words be seasoned with grace. Let your actions be a reflection of love. Let your reactions be that of kindness. Value the image of God in one another. I don't think this has always been my natural tendency, but I really deep down long for it. I have a natural instinct to fight for things and to fight for people, but I've tried to discern where kindness fits into the fight? But I'm learning that the valuing of people is the fight. That when we fight for the goodness in people, all people, we are fighting to elevate the Image of God before anything else. 

No one is defined by what they do. This is a big one. It's the best news I think I have ever heard. We are not defined by the good things we do and we are not defined by the mistakes we make. We are defined by something far, far greater. Our identities are eternally cemented in who God says we are. Let's choose to operate by this. Let's choose to see this about people, to choose personhood over performance. It's how we want others to see us because it's how God sees us. The core of who we are has nothing to do with what we do, praise the Lord. But the core of who we are should affect what we do and how treat people. Let's act like we believe this. 

Onward and upward, just as the Martian would do. 

Celebrate Steps

About a month ago, I went on a retreat alongside my team. It was one of the richest and most refreshing few days, yet it was also provided some of the most challenging examinations. We talked about the inner life and emotional health. I came back exhaustingly freed, emotionally drained, and yet it felt like the beginning of a very significant journey. A few weeks later, I received some break-your-heart feedback and I feel as though I am rebuilding as God is refining. 

What I have learned in the midst of the rebuilding is the power of steps. 

We talk about it a lot as a team, what it means to celebrate steps. We value the steps other people - whether it be students, parents, or leaders - are taking in their relationships, their faith, and their identities. We work to make awareness of steps an integral part of the fabric of what we do. If we fail to see the steps, we fail to see the work God is doing all around. If the big picture is our only sight, then we miss the goodness happening right in front of us. 

There is the seeing, and then there is the celebrating.

I don't think I've ever done a good job of celebrating the steps in my own life. 

I have places I'd like to be, I know God is doing a work in me, and the big picture can feel so huge. I have a vision for my life and I feel great joy at where I see the road of my life. But to get there feels like a mountain. And then there is the gym I need to get to, a Sabbath I need to take, schoolwork I need to keep up with, a job I need to do, friendships I need to maintain, a family I need to keep in touch with, meals I need to cook. All of it makes you not take any steps at all. The gaps are glaring at times, but I genuinely see the areas where God is present and asking me to lean into Him. 

One of the biggest encouragements from our retreat was the relief that I could move forward. I was equipped to acknowledge all that God had revealed and all that I needed, and then take it one day at a time. 

So, I've decided to let myself off the hook to see the steps. I've decided discouragement at not achieving the end result is no longer allowed. I've decided "enough" is no more. I've decided celebration. 

I walk once a week at the Riverwalk. I cannot get myself to the gym enough at this season of my life at the frequency I want. I used to live in that tension. But I do know that physical health is important, movement is critical. So now, I walk. I count it as soul care and I get outside. I throw comparison to the wind and I walk. Sometimes I have a companion and the conversations have been so life giving. My walks are a buffer between work and school and it has left me light and ready to tackle the next shift of schoolwork. 

I say yes to game nights. The other day, some friends invited me over for a game night. I looked at the number of pages I needed to read and felt the crunch of responsibility. But my new step now is to value friendships and so I chose to go. I laughed harder than I had in a really long time. The pages went unread, but I just read them another time. Friendships have often fallen to the wayside because time feels sooooo critical. The big picture is to cultivate genuine friendships, but the step is saying yes to game nights. 

I don't use my phone on Saturdays. This one makes me laugh, because my friend Kendall is always reminding me of this one. I am learning I can put the phone down, I actually prefer to put the phone down, and I can choose Saturday to lay on the couch watching SVU with my mom or spend it organizing, cleaning, and running errands or spend it out and about or traveling to see friends. Sometimes things can wait, and that doesn't mean excellence has to be compromised.

I practice vulnerability. In recent bouts of shame, I have sent text on text on text and have been met with surprisingly tender responses. It has left me all weepy and has relieved so much of the pressure I couldn't find ways to relieve on my own. I am communicating better - with myself, with God, with others - which has helped me become more aware of how to navigate through such strongly felt emotions. Each expression of vulnerability makes me stronger and puts quite a bit of fuel in my tank. Shame loses power when shared.

I see these steps and I celebrate. 
Life is full and I am learning to live it as such. I am learning there is much truth to the cliche of life as a marathon, not a sprint. We are journeying and each step takes us closer to home and closer to the heart and character of God. Change is deceiving and process is weird, but we move forward!

I have a really sweet friend who is so good at remembering this. She has such an awareness of God and hardly ever sees small things as coincidences. She sees them as divine appointments. She actually just texted me as I sat here writing, about how she felt moved by the Lord as she sat in her room reflecting on the day. A resounding yes. God is so good. He is honored in the journey. He is present in the moments. 

And then, of course, one of my favorite visuals..
How do you eat an elephant? 
One bite at a time. 

Savor and celebrate those bites. 
Savor and celebrate the steps. 

Peter and the Resurrection

I love the story of Peter. 

I love his close proximity with Christ, his sincere genuineness at wanting to walk with and honor Jesus and his severe shortcomings when he fails to do so. I love his seeming aloofness, the comic relief he provides to the Transfiguration scene. I am relieved by his brazen pride. I am struck by his authentic heart, his camaraderie with Christ. I am heartbroken at the devastation of his decisions. I am empathic when he sees the fullness of what he has done. I am drawn by his desire to want to run. I am moved at what he chooses instead. I am mesmerized at what the resurrection did for Peter.

I love Peter. I resonate with Peter. I connect with Peter.

During Jesus' most desperate time, Peter betrayed him three times. Three times. As Christ was being tried and arrested and mocked, Peter looked people in the eye and claimed to have no affiliation with Christ whatsoever. So blatant. Whatever motivated Peter in these moments, it drove him to choose things he would regret almost instantly. And when the rooster crows, Peter wept bitterly.

Wept bitterly.

One of my favorite verses is Luke 24:12. Christ has been crucified, dead, gone, buried. The disciples are no doubt in hiding - shocked, grieved, confused. Peter is one of them. Maybe he felt weird and out of place? Did he still feel the weight of his betrayal of Christ? Did he feel shame? Did he feel identified by it, or that other people looked at him differently because of it? Did he feel embarrassed? It must have all been so disorienting. 

Then Mary and Mary Magdalene come running in and announce that JESUS IS ALIVE. They have been to the tomb, they have seen that it is empty. Jesus is not there! I can just imagine that maybe there was initial shock and silence, then a burst of exclamation and excitement, disbelief and awe. 

Peter, though, Peter rose and ran. 
He ran towards the empty tomb. 

Luke 24:12 says that Peter stooped and looked in and "saw the linen cloths by themselves; and he went home marveling at what had happened." 

I love how lifelike these verses are, how human of a picture they paint. I love words like "rose" and "ran" and "stooped" and "marveled." Like Peter was just a normal guy who made some mistakes and who needed to see if what they said about a risen Christ was true. 

I think Peter ran to the tomb wondering, could this be? And the empty tomb said this is even better than you could imagine. I think Peter walked away wondering, this could be! 

The resurrection made sense of it all. The resurrection gave Peter clarity, a hope, forgiveness. The resurrection said you're not defined by this, by what you have done. You have been set free. The resurrection said that shame has lost its power and its sting. Rise, marvel, move forward. 

Peter became the founder, the rock, of the early Church. He became known for his courage and kindness, his strong mindedness and boldness. He became a leader for Christians, a voice to a community of believers. He is remembered for his great faith. The resurrection changed him.

It doesn't get any better than that. 

His story moves me in more ways than I could say.
An example of what the best news can do. 

Happy Easter. 

Honor in Their Eyes

I've been talking with my friend about this very topic the past few weeks, about honor. He's an ADVANCE student, 18 years old, a senior at Fort Mill High School. He's been in our ministry for most of his high school carer. We traveled to Colombia, South America with a team two summers ago and once you travel on a global mission trip together, you have a bond. And really, the thing about being a pastor is how much you cherish, value, and cheer on those in your ministry. Truly. 

My friend has really been moved by the latest series "The Lost Art of Honor." It's been a really important one for him. The past few Sundays, he's excitedly texted and we've had some really cool conversations about what David has said the past few weeks and what honor can look like in the life of a teenager. When I asked if he'd help me with some blog thoughts, he said, "well I feel honored right now."

I loved that comment so much. Because receiving honor fuels giving honor. Those who receive honor give it. What an honorable cycle. 

I'm really proud of this student, of this newfound fire he has to value and treat others with honor. Honor for our teenagers, for our next generation, is incredibly critical. Honor is not a thing of the past, it must be the heartbeat of how we interact with one another. Honor is, at its core understanding that everyone is worthy of value and respect. It is recognizing the image of God in one another. My friend describes honor as "going out of your way," and there is something so gracious about that. Honor is not just doing what is expected, but is giving grace upon grace. It is calling out to others, "I see you, I respect you, I value you, I care about you, and I will sacrifice self to show you."

Honor is grace.

In a middle school cafeteria or a high school classroom, that can be a really tough concept to grasp. People can be unkind and cruel, dramatic and stubborn. If you remember way back (way, way back for some of us), the teenage years are tough years. They are identity altering years, a character defining time, and where God is in the midst of it is a question we have all wrestled with. The lies of a teenage mind are loud and the drum of insecurity can beat really, really loudly. So much is changing. I remind my teenage friends all the time that the core of who they are never changes - loved, belonged, worth dying for, child of God. That is the good news.

So, the question our teenagers are wrestling with and the one we're trying to help them get to is this. How can honor exist in an environment like this?

Honor starts by honoring God. Our relationship with God sets the tone for so much, for the health of our relationships and the health of our own identity. We honor God by spending time with Him, by loving one another, by seeking His help, by prioritizing faith and His way of life. When others are dishonorable, it is God who helps us honor them. My friend says that it is easy to forget where honor starts, but it starts with God. How true and right and good that is.

I think of the fruit of the spirit of kindness, and I think how much it connects with honor. Kindness can change lives, set people free, welcome people in despite who they are or what they've done. Kindness communicates value and communicates worth. The same can be said of honor, what a closely related marriage between the two. It is believing the best about one another, encouraging instead of criticizing. In it purest form, it is simply treating people right.

I had a dear friend named Tee, who embodied this kind of honor and who I look to often as my example. I met Tee when he was a senior at Fort Mill High School a few years ago. At his memorial service this past fall, I heard story after story of how his kindness had changed lives. One by one, people from all walks of life, from all cliques and social groups at Fort Mill High, stood up and shared how an encounter with Tee had made them feel safe and valuable. I remember hearing their words and their stories and thinking over and over again what a life, what a legacy. People felt honored by the way Tee treated them.

Tee understood that people matter, he understood that people are worthy to be welcomed in. His smile, his personality, his character, reflected the belief that every moment and every human being is sacred. There are no exceptions. Actions have influence, and yes, did Tee influence towards love and belonging. He impacted a community. 

Kindness and honor bring heaven to earth.

Our teenagers are reclaiming honor, they truly are. They are grappling with what it looks like to be kind in the battlefield. They are asking good questions, seeking hard after God, pursuing love and goodness in a world that is hard, sinful, and broken. They inspire me daily.

Kindness of Strangers

I am off my airport game. 

I pride myself on having flown fairly frequently. I know my way around an airport. Flying rules, regulations, appropriate time to be there. I have my traditions and rituals. Coffee, people watching, book to read.

This time, however, I was way off my game. I flew to New York with my brother last week and had quite a few misadventures. Nothing huge on the way there - a stray liquid, no time to sit before boarding - but things an amateur would do. 

On the way home, however, was another story. I casually made my way to the airport for my return flight and was shocked when the woman at the American Airlines counter told me I needed to hurry or I was going to miss my flight. wait what. 

Confused, I looked down at the time and briskly walked to the security line. To my horror, I saw it stretched 40 people deep. It sank in I am going to miss this flight. 

There are very few things worse than missing a flight. The hassle and expense, the unknown. To be avoided at all costs. 

Standing there in line, it was this moment where I knew I needed to act fast. If I didn't speak up, I was going to spend all day at JFK. It was a nerve-wracking few minutes, knowing that how my day unfolded depended on quite a few other people. 

So, I spoke up. 
I told the woman in front of me, a French woman who didn't speak much English, that my flight was literally boarding right then and could I go in front of her? She couldn't understand what I was saying, so we sought the women behind me to help translate. They immediately said YES ABSOLUTELY PLEASE GO AHEAD. Their affirmation, their enthusiasm was just so generous. 

Then it became a thing. I moved down the line, person by person, and told them my situation and that I needed their help. And one by one, they let me pass. Not begrudgingly or annoyingly, but joyfully. With empathy, they let me pass. With kindness, each person let me pass. No one questioned why I was late or gave me lecture on being prompt or responsible, but they pleasantly moved aside and urged me forward. There was even one woman who shrieked let this woman go!!!

Kindness created camaraderie in that line. The other passengers became my corner, their kindness really warming my heart. You see, that New York trip wasn't exactly an easy one. My brother was moving to NYC and that trip was to move him in and get him settled into his new home. There was a mix of great excitement, but also my heart felt a little sad. 

The small kindnesses in the airport, the kindness of strangers cheering me on, allowing me to go in front of them, was really meaningful and important to me. A very much needed kindness. It was a moment I needed great empathy. I made my flight that day by the skin on my teeth. Literally, the attendant closed the door right after I ran up there. For real.  

You never know what an act of kindness can do for someone. 
You don't know people's stories, or where people are in each moment.
But we do know that kindness can inspire and encourage, can warm and move forward. Kindness without questions asked, kindness without an explanation needed, is an incredibly valuable commodity that should be given away freely. 

Thank you, airport people! 

The Joy of Dreaming

It was a few weeks ago. I was wandering through Target (my favorite pastime) and I had just spotted an inspirational dishtowel that I wanted for my kitchen (#adulting). It was in my hand, when my boss sent me a text about what he had scheming for ADVANCE that week. 

It was an idea that involved Kid President and Martin Luther King Jr. About dreams and how to inspire our students to dream bigger. It was inspiring and hilarious at the same time. At the exact same time, I looked down at the kitchen accessory in my hand and read the message on the dishtowel, 

I took notice then. All this dream talk wasn't a coincidence, but maybe something more significant. Have I quit my daydream? What's my dream? Did I need to dream bigger?

This past Wednesday, I saw one of the most inspiring movies I've ever seen. Joy, with Jennifer Lawrence. It's about how life can get real complacent, unintentionally, and how the great, significant tasks we do each day can accidentally cause our dreams and our creativity and vision to dry up. Her character in the movie got into the grind, and had never lifted her head back up to capture what was inside.

Don't let your dream lie dormant.
Let's ask these questions together..

1) What is your dream? What do you lay awake and think about at night? Where does your mind wander in the day? What makes your heart beat, what brings you passion? What are your hopes, what are your dreams? What is the vision you have for your life? What is that one thing that you want to see come to fruition - a dream that makes others better, that brings good to those around you? You have the power and the right to dream big dreams. 

2) Who is in your corner? As Joy worked hard and was met with disappointment, failure, and whispers of you can't do this, she had a corner that was greater. She had people who cheered her on, who believed in what she was doing against all odds. Who are those people for you? Who have you told your dreams to? Who is helping you on your journey, mapping out what steps you need to take? Who is encouraging you? Who knows about your dreams? Dreams die in isolation, but they flourish among many. 

3) What is that first step? Make that phone call. Send that email. Make that appointment. Have that conversation. Write that plan. Start saving that money. Make that list. Clear that schedule. Go on that trip. Read that book. Make that friend. 

You can do it. 
Don't quit your daydream. 
Dream big. 

The Mystery of Prayer

I'm going to let you in on something. 

Prayer is a complete mystery to me. 

I've studied it, I've read books on it, I've read blogs on it, I've met with different pastors about it, I've asked a million questions about it. I've practiced structured prayer, I've practiced silent prayer, I've practiced jumbled prayer, I've done lists and days and notecards. The more I learn, the less I know. Prayer is difficult and weird. 

There came a time of my life when I just got tired. When I felt like prayer wasn't doing what it was supposed to do. There was crisis, there was prayer, there was still crisis, and prayer felt useless. It made it all the more confusing. I am a logical person, but I couldn't figure it out. I wanted to know how it worked, but there was just no knowing. 

I grew tired of all the need. I grew tired of people asking for prayer and me not really knowing how to help them. I grew exhausted of all the crisis and suffering - was prayer really the only way to help? What was prayer really doing for these people? How much prayer was enough? 

So, I packed up prayer and I put it in a box and I stuffed it away. 

I've recently started to open it up again. 

Because the months that I spent prayer-less or absently acknowledging something, those months were some of the hardest of my life. I lived lost, I lived by pride, I lived confused, I lived tethered to my emotions. And only looking back now can I see that the way I was living was in direct correlation to my prayer life. Maybe I had misunderstood prayer all along. Maybe prayer works far deeper and bigger and wider than I even realized. Maybe prayer was more about where I was centering myself, who I was coming back to, what I was dependent on. Maybe it was more about the presence of God than I anticipated. 

The one thing I heard over and over again in those months was that prayer is not an option. We cannot be fickle or negotiable about the role of prayer. It is a priority, and it is by this that we must live. Prayer is the root of faith. I heard it and read it over and over again. In my friend's blogs, my friend's sermons on Sunday mornings, my Church History textbook. Prayer is the way that we operate. Prayer is our guide, prayer keeps us centered, prayer keeps us ever aware of the presence of God.

And I don't think I ever doubted the importance of prayer, I just wasn't sure how to do this really important thing. But those words repeated to me over and over again. It filled my heart and refreshed my mind. This must be the characteristic of the Church. We must be people of prayer. That began to inspire me.

And as ministry life got crazier and I felt the weight more than I've had before, I realized that this weight wasn't meant for me to carry alone. Yes, I have human people here who help me, but I began to fully see there were greater Hands meant to help shoulder the burden with me. And the way to do that was through prayer. It was lighter to turn to God, even when it was jumbled and I wasn't sure what I was saying, or I was awkwardly throwing words up to God in desperation, not quite sure what was falling or what was sticking or how this whole thing even worked. He has a way of doing that. I think that's the true beauty of it. 

I keep a conversation in the back of my mind often. I met with a friend a little while ago (who told me once that "pastors need pastors" and I nearly melt with grace every time I think about it) and he told me a story of when he was called on for prayer in a time of tragedy and death. He said he had the same thought, same wrestling, the impact of the sadness was almost overwhelming. What did that time of prayer really do? And the man he was with said, We pray until God reveals otherwise.  

We pray until we don't. 

That's it. Prayer will always be a puzzle. I think it's meant to be a puzzle. But God has called us to a life of prayer. And I am committed to it. There are the days when I think about the state of a dark and divided world and my empathic instinct feels crushed. But I am learning to turn towards prayer, an intimacy with God, because that truly is the only way. The awareness of his presence is the unveiling of Emmanuel. 

He is with us. Of that I am certain.

Let's pray on.