The Dream

I believe in the sanctity of life – all life – male, female, black, white, rich, poor, young, old, born, unborn.  I believe that life is sacred.  It is to be valued and protected.  I believe that life comes from our creator God and that all of us are created in His image.  Therefore, all of us are valuable.  I believe that life begins at the point of conception when God breathes his spirit into the very fiber of the cells in a mother’s womb.

It grieves me to live in a world where life is not valued – where gun violence is rampant, abuse is a regular occurrence, the death penalty is enforced, and where it is legal to destroy the life of an unborn baby right up until the minute before it is ready to enter the world.

I cannot understand how we can simultaneously fight with everything we have to save the life of a baby that is born prematurely at 23 weeks while across town we give permission to destroy the life of another baby that is still in the womb at 23 weeks.  How is one of these considered to be a baby - a life to be valued and saved - while the other one is “just a fetus” that can be thrown away because it isn’t really a baby yet?  I just don’t understand the logic…

But, that isn’t really the point that I want to make.  Instead, I want to share a story – one that is meant to encourage and bring hope to those who have lost a child – whether to miscarriage or stillbirth or even to abortion.  Those lives – however brief – matter.  They matter to us and they matter to God.  I’m sure of it.

How can I be so sure?  First, scripture tells us it’s true.  Psalm 139:13-6 says:

“You (God) made all the delicate, inner parts of my body  and knit me together in my mother’s womb.  Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!     Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.  You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,     as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.  You saw me before I was born.     Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out   before a single day had passed.”

But, I also have a more personal story that I want to share.  You see, we lost our second baby to a miscarriage.  It happened quickly – at just about 5 weeks – just days after we found out we were expecting.  We were sad, but we didn’t really dwell on it.  And, for the most part, I buried the whole experience in the recesses of my mind – which is how I tend to deal with grief.

Now, fast forward about 16 years – to an evening just a few months ago.  I had one of the most vivid dreams that I have ever had.  I usually don’t remember my dreams, but this one is etched into my memory.  I still replay it in my mind, and every image is crystal clear.  I believe that God still speaks to us in dreams, and I am sure that this dream was given to me by God.

In the dream, my husband and I were in an old country store in the mountains.  We were there with a little blond-haired boy who appeared to be about 7 or 8 years old.  He was wide-eyed with wonder and had a huge smile on his face.  We walked through the store with him looking at toys and outdoor gear.  We checked out the UNC sweatshirts and filled up bags with candy from the bins in the store.  As I watched us in the store with this little boy, he seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place his identity.  I kept thinking, “Who is this sweet child?  Do I know him?”

I woke up abruptly and started to pray, asking God what the dream meant.  It was then that I clearly heard God say, “That’s your child – the one that you miscarried.  You have a son.  He’s here with me in heaven.  He’s just fine.  I’m taking care of him for you until you get here.”

I don’t know why God gave me that glimpse of our child.  I’m just thankful that he did.  I’m sad that we didn’t get to raise our son here on this earth, but I look forward to the day when we’ll be with him again – for all of eternity.

If you have lost a baby for any reason, I want you to know that God sees you and He feels your pain. He is holding your baby close in His arms until the day when you can be together again.  He loves you and He wants you to know that your baby’s life matters.  Even if you were the one who chose to abort your baby, He still sees you and He loves you and He feels your pain.  He wants to draw you close and heal your heart.  He wants you to know that His grace is sufficient for you – and for your child.  He wants you to know that your life matters too.

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea.  I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them.  They will be his people, and god himself will be with them and be their God.  He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’  He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!’  Then he said, ‘Write this down, for these words are faithful and true.’ “ – Revelation 21:1-5

  

Koinonia

It’s that time of year – the clock has struck midnight – the old year has gone and the new year has begun.  Everyone is taking stock of their lives – making plans to do things better – searching for the word that will define their new year.  I usually abstain from this kind of activity because it tends to lead to frustration and discouragement when things don’t turn out quite the way I hoped or expected.

However, this year, I do have a word that I want to permeate everything I say and do in 2019.  This word has been percolating in my heart for months now.  And, as I’ve pondered it during the last weeks of the old year and the first week of the new, I have a better understanding of exactly what it means.

I thought that my word for the new year was “community.”  However, after some prayer and reflection, I realized that this English word doesn’t really capture what God has been stirring in my heart.  But, there is a Greek word that does:  koinonia.

Koinonia is sometimes translated as community, but it means much, much more than this single English word.  It is one of those rich words that doesn’t have a pure English equivalent.  As I’ve studied this word, I’ve found that “koinonia” can be translated in many ways:  community, communion, joint participation, sharing, and even joint contribution.

Koinonia is used to describe the state of the early church in the 2^nd chapter of Acts where it says that “They devoted themselves to the apostles teaching and to fellowship (koinonia), to the breaking of bread and to prayer.”  Or, translated another way:  “They committed themselves to the teaching of the apostles, the life together (koinonia), the common meal, and prayers.”

Koinonia is also used in Romans 15 to describe the way in which believers in Macedonia pooled their resources to help the poor in Jerusalem: “ The Greeks – all the way from the Macdeonians in the north to the Achaians in the south – decided they wanted to take up a collection (koinonia) for the poor among the believers in Jerusalem.  They were happy to do this, but it was also their duty.  Seeing that they got in on all the spiritual gifts that flowed out of the Jerusalem community so generously, it is only right that they do what they can to relieve their poverty.”

When we think of community, we usually think of a group of people who live in proximity to each other and who occasionally hang out together and who occasionally call each other when something good (or bad) is happening in their lives and who occasionally worship together.  But, koinonia is more than that.  Koinonia implies deep relationships – communal experiences – collective worship – shared resources.  It represents lives that are interconnected and intertwined in a beautiful way.  It means that someone always has your back.  It signifies looking up to God and reaching out to others – together. 

I think that this is the kind of community that God intended for us to experience as believers.  But, sadly, most of us never achieve this in the context of our local churches.  It’s not for lack of trying on the part of church leadership.  It’s a by-product of our overly-scheduled, excessively-busy, checklist-oriented lives.  Developing a koinonia type of community takes time and energy.  It requires commitment and investment.  It means slowing down and spending time talking and eating and worshipping and praying together. 

My pastor always says that “Lone Rangers are Dead Rangers.”  This statement is so true!  But, many of us have fooled ourselves into believing that we AREN’T Lone Rangers simply because we check in at church on Sunday morning or show up at small group occasionally.  And, while these things are good and necessary, they aren’t enough.  They can sometimes give us the false illusion of having a community.  Because, when it gets right down to it and things start to go south in our lives, we often realize that there’s no one to call – no one to help – no one to encourage us or walk alongside us or pull us out of the pit.

Koinonia (community) doesn’t happen by accident.  It is the result of intentionally sharing life together with others.  So, that’s my goal for 2019.  Anyone care to join me?

Freedom and Control

It’s a rare quiet morning in my house.  One daughter is sleeping in – one daughter is away visiting friends – one travelling hubby is at a missions conference – and somehow, I don’t have anywhere to be.  As I sit here enjoying the stillness, I’m reflecting on the whirlwind of a year that was 2018.

2018 was a year of amazing highs and discouraging lows.  It was a year of firsts and lasts.  It was a year of new opportunities and closed doors.  But, when I think about 2018, the first word that comes to mind is “control.”  If there is one thing that 2018 has taught me – it’s that I can’t control everything.  In fact, I might go so far as to say I can’t control ANYTHING!  You would think I would have figured that out well before I hit my 50’s, but I think it’s a lesson that can only be learned with time and experience.

There were times in 2018 when things were completely out of control – too many things going on – too many demands on our time – too many competing priorities.  I felt like one of those circus acts with all of the spinning plates trying to keep them all in the air and diving occasionally to catch one before it hit the ground.  If I’m honest, there were a lot of those times.

There were times in 2018 when I just lost control altogether.  The pressure was too much – the responsibilities were too many – the emotions were too high – and BOOM!  I just blew up.  It didn’t happen often, and I got it together pretty quickly, but still – I lost control.

But, the last few months of 2018 have been marked by learning to surrender control.  The craziness didn’t subside – the responsibilities didn’t disappear – the demands on our time and our finances didn’t lessen (in fact, they increased exponentially).  However, somewhere along the way, I stopped trying so hard to control everything and started surrendering it all to the One who IS in control.

I’ve also learned that surrendering control doesn’t mean throwing up your hands and waiting to see where all of the pieces land.  For example, surrendering control of my finances doesn’t mean that I don’t work hard.  In fact, I take on extra work every time I get the chance.  However, at the end of the day, no matter how much I work or how much money I make, I can’t control my circumstances.  I can’t control the fact that one of our cars died completely and had to be replaced – at the worst possible time.  I can’t control the fact I still haven’t been paid for work that I did in October – money that was supposed to be used for tuition payments.  I have to do my part – I have to be a good steward of what I’ve been given – but at the end of the day, I also have to trust that Philippians 4:19 is true:   “ God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”  Looking back at 2018, we have been the “brokest” we’ve ever been, but somehow – miraculously – every need has been met and every bill has been paid. 

And, here’s another thing I’ve learned – surrendering control doesn’t necessarily change your circumstances.  It changes YOU.  It’s only when I stopped trying so hard to control everything that I was able to stop worrying so much – to find peace – to move towards contentment.  I can relate to what Paul says in Philippians 4:11-13:

“For I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

I’ve read these verses lots of times.  Like many who grew up in church, I have been able to quote verse 13 since I was young.  As I got older, I also realized that verse 13 is the key to the contentment Paul describes in verses 10 and 11.  But, this year, I finally realized that I had been putting the emphasis on the wrong part of this verse. 

When I used to read verse 13, I read it with the emphasis on ME:

I CAN DO ALL THINGS through Christ who gives ME strength.

The emphasis was on the fact that I could do it – if I just worked a little harder – pushed a little more – spent a little less – sacrificed a little more.  And, of course – Jesus would bless my efforts and help me to keep doing all the things so that I could keep going until I achieved the outcome I was working towards.  The emphasis was on Jesus blessing MY efforts – MY work – MY ideas.  ME was still in control – with a little help from Jesus.

This year I have realized that I’ve been putting the emphasis on the wrong part of that verse.  I should have been reading it with the emphasis on CHRIST:

I can do all things THROUGH CHIRST who gives me strength.

When I surrender my work and my plans and my efforts and my dreams and my stuff and my friends and my family – TO CHRIST – then He will give me strength to persevere.  When I surrender control to him – no matter how crazy things get – He will carry me through.  He will fill in the gaps where my effort runs out before the need has been met.  He will take care of my family when I’m not able to be there to take care of them myself.  He will redeem the time when there aren’t enough hours in the week to get everything done.

It’s one of those interesting paradoxes of the Christian faith – It’s only when you surrender control that you can find true freedom.  After all these years, I think that truth has finally started to take hold in my heart.

My prayer for the New Year is that all of you will be able to walk in that same freedom – that you will find peace and contentment – and that you will learn to surrender control to the One who is truly in control.

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” – John 8:36

Lessons Learned from "Hamilton"

 “Hamilton” is the hottest ticket in town these days.  My kids have been begging to see it since it first debuted on Broadway.  So, imagine their excitement when they learned that the touring company was stopping at our local theater.  I knew that tickets would be hard to get, so I signed up for every early access option that I could find, and I managed to score four tickets to the show.  Yay, Mom!

But, here’s the thing…  While I love Broadway shows, I really wasn’t super interested in seeing Hamilton.  I had heard a lot about it.  I had listened to the hype.  I had read about the political divisiveness that had been on display at some of the shows.  I knew that the musical style was not something that I generally preferred.  So, I put on my “good mom” hat and went to the show yesterday with really low expectations.

Fast forward to this afternoon…. I’m not sure that I’ve ever had such a drastic and immediate change of heart as I did when I saw “Hamilton.”  I was absolutely blown away by the show.  It was far and away the best Broadway show that I’ve ever seen – and I’ve seen quite a few.  Where I expected to find revisionist history, I found an accurate retelling of the story of the birth of our nation.  Where I expected my ears to be offended by the hip hop music, I found an amazing breadth and depth of musical styles that perfectly fit the story that was being told.  While I expected an overt political message, I found a thoughtful presentation that simply encouraged the audience to think about today’s political issues in light of the past.  The show left me in tears, and I almost never cry at movies or plays. 

I’m still thinking about the show this afternoon – not only revisiting the story and the songs and the images, but also examining my heart and asking some hard questions of myself.  How often do I approach someone or something with a set of preconceived notions?  How often do I approach a conversation with “low expectations?”  How often do I put up walls because I think that I know what someone or something is all about?  What am I missing as a result of passing judgment before taking time to fully engage and understand?

I’d like to think that I don’t do those things, but I know that I do to some extent.  All of us do.  But, what if we were willing to open our hearts and our minds – and what if we were willing to take down the walls…. What if we were willing to observe and listen and learn and let our guard down?  We might be surprised to find that our expectations are completely blown away and replaced with something new and better.

A wise woman once said, “If we are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that sometimes our assumptions and preconceived notions are wrong, and therefore, our interpretation of events is incorrect.  This causes us to overreact, to take things personally, or to judge people unfairly.”

“Hamilton” has inspired me to do my best to approach the world without any preconceived expectations (and to read the biographies of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr!).

Answering the question "Who am I" in the age of identity politics

Who am I?  It’s a fundamental question that we all ask ourselves at some point.  Who am I – really?  What does it mean to be me?  It’s a question that needs to be answered as we are growing up and maturing and trying to discover our purpose and our passion.  We need to understand what makes us unique.  We need to understand our gifts and talents and all the things that have prepared us to do the thing that we were created to do.

So, it’s no surprise that we begin to define ourselves by those characteristics that make us unique.  When asked who we are, we say things like:  “I am a woman.  I am Caucasian.  I am a Christian.  I am an introverted math nerd.  I am a teacher.  I am a musician.  I am a good cook.  I am a mom.  I am a wife.”  You get the picture.

But here’s the problem.  When we begin to find our identity – our self worth – our value as a person – in those characteristics that we use to define ourselves, we can begin to lose sight of the things that bind us together with everyone else on the planet.  When we identify more strongly with the things that make us different than everyone else – our gender, our race, our religion, our sexual orientation, our political preference – than with the things that make us the same, we understandably begin to take it very personally when we see or hear things that question or demean or criticize or disagree with these characteristics.

Don’t get me wrong – I am in no way saying it’s right or ok for anyone to hurt you or put you down or treat you as “less than” because of the things that make you uniquely you.  In fact, I abhor the hateful rhetoric that seems to plague our country these days.  But, what I AM saying is that, while you can’t control the rhetoric, you CAN control how you react to it.

When your identity is bound up in your gender or race or sexual orientation, it’s not a surprise that you feel every hateful word and action as if it’s a personal attack on WHO YOU ARE.  If the thing that I identify with most strongly is being a woman, then I feel every demeaning comment made about women on social media as if it were directed at me. I feel like I have personally been overlooked or undervalued when I see another woman being passed over for a promotion.  I feel these things even if they haven’t been part of my experience.  I feel these things a hundred times over if they have.

As long as we live in a fallen world, we can’t change the fact that there are hateful people in the world who will do horrible hateful things and spew horrible hateful words every time they get the chance.  Unfortunately, “evil” is just as much of a reality as “good.”  But, the more that I’ve thought about this, the more that I believe that the way to neutralize the rhetoric is to realize where our true identity lies.  If we know that our true identity is NOT found in our gender or our race or our political preference, then when the hateful words come, we don’t feel it as a personal attack on who we are.  

For example – Suppose that you are driving down the road and see a car run a red light and hit another car.  You will be shocked – upset – concerned.  You might call the police or even stop to help.  But, your reaction will be calm and your focus will be on the person who was hit by the car.  Now, suppose that you are the person in the intersection, and a car runs a red light and hits your car.  Not only will you be shocked and upset – you will probably be angry and irritated and worried.  Once you find out that you are ok, your attention will turn to making sure that the person who hit you pays for the damages and that your car gets fixed.  You are on the defensive and you are focused on protecting you.

While it may be a bit of an oversimplification, the same idea applies when we see someone say something offensive about a woman or a person of color or a homosexual person.  If your identity is bound up in that aspect of your being, then you take those comments personally.  You become angry and upset and defensive.  Something rises up in you that wants to lash out at that person and everyone “like them.”  But, if your identity is found in something bigger – something more universal – then your reaction can be different because it comes from a different place.  You feel the sting of those words.  You have compassion for the one who is being mistreated.  You desire to see justice and do everything you can to defend that person who was wronged.  But your reaction comes from a different place.  It comes from a place of proactively reaching out to help and serve others rather than defensively trying to protect yourself. 

So, back to the age old question – Who am I?  Who am I, really?  Where does my worth come from?  For me, the answer is Jesus.  I know He loves me – He loves me so much that He gave His life for me.  I am valuable because He created me.  Before I was even born, He had a plan and a purpose for me.  And, nothing that anyone says or does can change that.  I am confident in my identity – even when the good ole boys network passes me by for the promotion year after year – even when the man on the street catcalls when I walk by – even when I see people in leadership demean and ridicule women.  Does it bother me when I see those things?  Yes.  Do I want to help and defend women?  Yes.  Do I take it personally and feel like I am “less than” because of those things?  No. Do I become angry and defensive? No.  Do I lash out with hateful words of my own?  No – because at my core, I know who I am.  And, who I am is defined by love, not hate.  Who I am is defined by compassion, not revenge.  Who I am is more concerned with serving others than defending myself or being “right.”

And, even if your worldview is different than mine, you can still lead with love – You can still look for the things that make all of us the same rather than focusing so much on the things that make us different.  It doesn’t mean that we can’t celebrate our diversity – We should!  But, if we can shift our perspective even a few degrees so that our focus is on loving and serving others rather than protecting and defending ourselves, I believe that the world would be a better place…

Hold On Lightly

We are taught from a young age to hold on tightly to things that are important.  An ice cream cone comes with the admonition:  “Hold on to it!  Don’t drop it!”  A gift of money comes with “Hold on to it!  Put it in your pocket so you won’t lose it!”   When handed a cup of milk, the words “Don’t drop it!  Hold on to it with both hands!” echo through the air.

No wonder it’s so hard for us when we have to let go of something – especially when it’s something valuable or something that we love.

Last week, I had some money in my pocket – a hundred dollar bill to be exact.  Someone had given it to me as a gift.  I was holding on to it with plans of using it for some extra expenses I knew were coming in the next few days – expenses that I wouldn’t be able to cover out of my monthly budget.

But, as I was sitting in church on Sunday morning, I heard a little voice telling me that I needed to give my hundred dollar bill to someone – let’s call him Simon.  I knew that Simon needed that money – but so did I.  It was MY hundred dollar bill.  Every time I looked at Simon, I felt more and more convinced that I needed to give him the money, but my mind was fighting me every step of the way. 

Then, I heard the little voice say, “You have to hold on lightly.” 

“Wait – that can’t be right.  It’s hold on t-i-g-h-t-l-y.”

“No.  You heard me.  You have to hold on lightly.  You have to be willing to let go.”

“I’m sure that I need to hold on tightly.  This money was a gift to me, and I need it.”

“No.  Hold on lightly.  Be willing to let go.  Trust me.  When you let go, I take care of the rest.”

This conversation went on for quiet a while, but I finally decided to listen to the little voice.  I handed the hundred dollar bill to Simon, knowing that it was never really mine in the first place.  The tears in his eyes when I put the money into his hand told me that I had done the right thing.

I have another precious gift that I’ve held tightly for 18 years.  She was placed into my arms as a tiny baby, and I’ve held her and watched her grow and worried about her and prayed for her and dreaded the day when she would leave me.  That day is finally here.  She leaves for college next week.  She’s moving to another state.  It’s a hard 9-hour drive to get there.

And, I hear that same little voice saying, “You have to hold her lightly.”

“That can’t be right. I have to take care of her.  I have to protect her.  I have to hold her t-i-g-h-t-l-y.”

“No.  You heard me.  You have to hold her lightly.  You have to let her go.  You have to release her into my care and know that I will look after her.  When you let go, I take care of the rest.  It’s time.”

So, next week, I will let her go, knowing that she was never really mine in the first place.  She was entrusted into my care for a season precisely so that she could leave when the time was right.  God has great plans for her – plans that she can never accomplish if I hold on too tightly.

Letting go is hard, but it's the right thing to do.  So hold on lightly....

Turning down the volume

Most of the time, I love technology.  I worked in a high tech company for almost 15 years, and I still work with high end software on a daily basis.  Technology allows me to do things today that I only dreamed of when I finished my graduate degree in the mid-90’s.

 

But sometimes, I wish we could go back to the “good ole days” – before everyone had the internet – before e-mail and social media – before the 24-hour news cycle.  Sometimes, I wish I could turn it all off because the constant stream of news and images and information and opinions is overwhelming.  It comes too fast and it’s too much to process.  There isn’t time to think or ask questions or seek the truth.  There’s barely enough time to react before the next thing comes hurtling at you from 50 different directions.

We wonder why so many people these days are stressed and anxious and depressed.  I think the constant stream of information has something to do with it.  We know too much.  Once you see the images of children being taken from their parents or the aftermath of a mass shooting or the devastation from a natural disaster, you become responsible for “doing something” with that information.  But, it’s too much for us to bear on our own.  The problems are big and complicated.  They don’t have simple solutions, yet we are compelled to try to help – to make the world a better place.  And, we become frustrated and discouraged when it seems like nothing we are doing is making a difference.

Add to that the fact that everyone who has an opinion can now share it freely and openly on social media.  I believe we should have that right, but we should use it responsibly.  Weren’t we all taught from a very young age that “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all”? The battle of words often leaves a trail of destruction that runs much deeper than any of us care to admit.

Think about the young person who is trying to develop their own opinions on life and faith and politics.  Where does it leave them when they see people that they love and respect line up on opposite sides of an issue and tear each other down in a public forum (rather than working together to find that common ground)?  I’ll tell you where it leaves them – It leaves them hurt and confused and wondering whether truth even exists anymore.  It leaves them crying in their bedroom because the world is a crazy place and the people who are supposed to be guiding them through this journey are too busy fighting to come together and lead.

There’s a part of me that wants to turn it all off and close my eyes and check out of the conversation.  But, I know that this is the world that my kids have to navigate.  It’s their reality.  It’s what my students are dealing with on a daily basis.  It’s what keeps them up at night.  That’s why I have to live in it too – so that I can understand when they come to me with hard questions that need serious answers.

I’m not sure if there’s a way to turn down the volume on all of the noise that’s coming at us 24/7.  But, I CAN turn up the volume on other things – things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy.  Phillippians 4 tells me that if I think on THOSE things, the God of peace will be with me.  And, ultimately, He’s the only one who holds the solution to all of the “crazy” in the world.

“When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is Higher than I.”  (Psalms 61:2)