Saturday, November 5, 2016

Girls and Tribes and Quarters

I have a confession: Girls scare me. 

When they travel in tribes, I can actually feel my breath back up in my chest and bad words want to slip out before I run frantically in the other direction. 

I'm a girl coward.

I'd like to say I don't know where this started but I totally know.
Two words: High School. 

Two things happened in quick succession this week that reminded me of my girl fear. One, I shared a post on Facebook that had beautiful women emailing and messaging me their stories that were a lot like mine. So, my perception got knocked around a little bit, which is a really good thing for me.

The second thing that happened was we had a CL100 done on our house because we're moving. A CL100 is a fancy way to say termite letter. Since I'm a real estate broker in real life, I know those guys pretty well, which means we talk about stuff besides bugs and vapor barriers and moisture levels. For some reason, Keith, my termite guy, said something about wanting to be 17 again and I laughed and laughed. Until I realized he didn't get the joke. 

I mean, would ANYONE do high school again?! Evidently, the answer is yes for some people. I even asked my Facebook buddies and some of them said YES! I am not one of those people. 

For me, high school felt a little like an LSD trip must feel. (I've never done LSD, so I'm guessing here.) 

I floated through high school marveling at all the colorful, shiny people and how they seemed to be doing life SO much better than I was doing it. Some of them were even having fun. I could totally tell!

I was (am) awkward. I was (am) loud. My brother was an addict who soaked up all the air in the room and it was an unspoken rule that we did not discuss this in my home, which added to my awkwardness, I think. I was in college prep and Honors classes but  had no ambition to be a doctor or lawyer or nurse or teacher. I wanted to write. Not a super cool thing for most 16 year old girls.

I was also more interested in becoming a Solid Gold dancer than partying and boys (that is a true story). 

I feel compelled to add that I often hid the things I was interested in because I believed no one else was interested in those things. Retrospectively, which is unfortunately the only way I see things clearly, I can say I think there were other people interested in those things, I just didn't know how to find those people. I made good grades and read books and went to exactly 3 parties my entire high school career. I also feel compelled to add that I was invited to more than 3, but that was my limit, evidently, and I would lie and say I had other plans when people asked me where I'd been Saturday night when "so and so" had their AWESOME party at the Peach Blossom Motel.

I clearly remember standing kind of over in the corner at one of the 3 parties I attended and, literally, eye balling every single person while thinking, "Are you REALLY having fun? Because you look like you're having fun over there playing quarters. Or maybe you're just drunk.Why aren't I having any fun here?" I hated the noise and the crush of people and the drinking and the sort of weird boy/girl dance that was very, very confusing for me. Side note: My husband, who wasn't yet my husband, was at that party playing quarters. He said he was, in fact, having a lot of fun, but doesn't remember most of it.

I wanted to go to the movies and talk about the new book I was reading and maybe grab a pizza without having my ass grabbed. Also, I wanted to remember doing those things.

So, anyway, high school wasn't my gig. College was more my thing, but even there I felt odd and out of place and like maybe I'd missed some secret meeting where the rules were explained in great detail on how this whole socializing thing worked because I didn't really get it and socializing still sometimes (all the time) makes me super nervous which makes me more awkward which makes me more nervous and so it goes. A GREAT cycle to be caught in, by the way. Good times.

Girls often travel in packs and I never found my pack. I was always just sort of floating along, happy to be involved in this group or that one, but never so far in that I got the inside jokes. I was cool with that because some of them were mean. Mean like a rabid dog is mean. But, I also kind of wanted to belong but I didn't know how. Then, I would feel "wrong" and anytime something feels wrong for me I become super offended because that's one of my struggles. Again, an awesome cycle to be caught up in.

But, here's the other thing: Girls are usually awesome when we're one on one, at least in my experience.

So, when I got those emails and had that high school discussion, a thought occurred to me that had truly never really occurred to me, which might be sad or might be totally common.

I was like, "OH MY GOSH!  Maybe we aren't in separate tribes. Maybe we're all one big tribe that's bought into the lie that women are gossipy and mean and cliquish. And we're helping to perpetuate the myth by being a little afraid of each other and cursing under our breath and then running away before we can know each other."  

Or maybe that's just me. I don't know. 

What I know is that for the first time in my life I paused and asked myself, "Why do women suffer alone when there are so many other women out there who share their story and their truth and their path? This isn't high school! Why aren't we lifting one another up and bearing one another's burdens with pride and strength and dignity and cheering like fanatical fans for one another when one of us finds her way and succeeds?" 

So, I'm making this blog that place. I'm going to tell the truth here, even when it's hard. Everyone is included here. There are NO exclusions. That's the only rule. Everyone gets to come to this party just like they are and they are included.

This can be a place for the girl tribe of women who want to love one another well and include everyone and encourage each other to be who we are, find our way and tell our truth. I would LOVE to have some guest bloggers write some awesome articles about their experiences and how they need a tribe or want a tribe or would like to stick a toe in just to see if they can be less scared, too.

This is going to be the place for me that I trust other women to care for me and trust me to care for them, exactly where they are. We can do that. We can totally freakin' do that. We can even do it while we're still in our pajamas! WIN!!!!

If you have a tribe, invite them here. If you don't have a tribe, I'm inviting you here. Everyone is welcome and safe and awesome. 

Even if you like to party and play quarters. I'll just be the one in the corner cheering you on and you can wave at me in the corner and ask me about my book when you're finished. 

Amen, 
Kristi



Friday, November 4, 2016

Audacious

I shared this post on Facebook yesterday. I was blown away by how many people read it and then sent me either private emails or direct messages. I cried because so, so many of us are hurting and we don't feel safe to share that we're hurting.

We don't feel assured that we will be loved in spite of our pain.

We are ashamed that we're in pain. When did that become truth for us? When did we become a people who regards false strength as something to worship and achieve instead of loving people where they actually are even if where they are is a deep, dark pit? 

So many people are hiding who they are because they are afraid. Their fear and shame has defined them. That makes my heart weigh about 1000lbs.

So many people are hiding because there are always those people like the "1" email I received that told me they'd be praying for me because, obviously, my faith wasn't strong enough to "get over it". Seriously, thanks for the prayers. You won't ever waste one on me.  

Then, I started reading between the lines of these emails and messages I was getting. There's this undercurrent in every one of them that says maybe God doesn't love me if I'm this way.What is "wrong" with me? Why can't I "just be joyful"? Why can't we all "just get over it"?  Even the one from the person who thinks someone can pray off everything wrong on this plane of existence and we can all run through the tulips together.

And that pissed me off. Not at the sweet people writing me letters, but at the lies they'd believed. 

How do we counter lies? With truth. That stuff will set you free!

So here's what I believe:

We're God's children. He LOVES us. All of us. NO ONE is excluded. He loves us just like we are, right where we are today. Period. You can't be badder than God's goodness and love. You can't be bigger than God's heart. I KNOW this.

I have four kids and I love them. Do I always love what they do? No. Absolutely no, but I love them with a wholeness that can not be reduced. Nothing can reduce the love I have for my children and I KNOW that God loves me and the entire world even more than I love my kids.

He is bigger and cooler and truer and better and more everything than I will ever even glimpse in anyone on this plane, so if I can love my kids this way, I know that God loves His kids in a way I will never understand in its fullness.

So, I wonder...

I wonder if these sweet women who sent me those heart wrenching emails and posts believe, like I believed for a LONG time, that God is just waiting to bring the hammer down because they "aren't doing it right". I mean, when I struggle, my first thought is that I am not doing this right and something is horribly wrong with me. I know now that that is a lie, and yet I still struggle with that truth.
 
Sometimes, I imagined God just waiting on me to get to heaven so he could judge me and tell about all the blessings I missed because I wasn't perfect down here. I've heard that preached from a pulpit.

Perfectionism is something I struggle with every single day of my life and have for as long as I can remember so I tend to project that thought onto pretty much everyone I meet. I had to be perfect and do life perfect, whatever the hell that even looks like.

Life is hard. It isn't hard because I am doing something wrong or awful and God isn't waiting to beat me over the head with divine judgement. 

He already did that to Jesus in my place. 

God is waiting on me to accept His grace and do the very best I can right now and He will walk with me and not leave me in the dark because He knows the dark scares the Holy right out of me. 

We are not going to get to heaven and God point to the divine calendar and show us all the dumb things we've ever done and all the blessings that we've missed. I do not believe that because God is good. God is FOR ME. God gave His Son for me. He LOVES ME RIGHT NOW JUST LIKE I AM.

When my kids get hung up on their mistakes, you know what I do? I listen, let them know I heard them and, yes, they made a mistake and then I remind them of that time they gave up their seat for an elderly person. I remind them of the time they spent 30 minutes picking me the PERFECT bouquet of flowers (weeds!) and made my entire day. I remind them of how courageous they are and how gentle they are and how joyful they are and how much I love them. I tell them truth. They are not defined by every mistake they make!

How can I not believe that God will do even better than that when I go to Him and say, "DID YOU SEE THAT GOD? How can this ever be made right. I am so awful"?!  

How can I not believe that God won't say, "Yes, honey. I saw that. It was a tough day. Do you remember that day that was even harder and you were still kind and gentle and prayerful?"  

And He'll smile at me and hold me close, because He is a good Father. He isn't waiting to punish us. He's waiting to love us.

He reminded me just yesterday that I didn't give up. Not on my husband or my friends or my babies or myself and, most importantly, I didn't give up on Him.

And He never ever gives up on me or you or anyone else. Like every parent, He remembers every tear and every kindness. He isn't waiting to punish us. He's waiting on us to come get a hug.

If that hug precedes a Lexapro and a good hard cry on the bathroom floor or something else we're told repeatedly to feel horrible about, God isn't loving you based on you.

He is loving you based on Jesus. 

You get to be imperfect and broken and still be loved. So does everyone else.

For God so loved THE WORLD. The entire, whole world just like it is was right then even when they hung His only kid on the cross. Actually, especially when they hung Jesus on the cross.

We aren't bigger than that. Our pain and our hurt and our joy and our heartache and our laughter and our lives and our good deeds and our mistakes aren't bigger than that. Thank God!

Love, K

 ps...even if you don't believe this today because the lies are big and loud right this minute, it's OK. You're OK. Maybe even audacious because you're still fighting and I believe God loves audacious people and scared people and sad people and all the people. All the time. He is to be revered for that reason more than all the other reasons. Amen.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Freedom, Football and Duck Dynasty

I love my country. I am proud of my country and the men and women who serve her.

I love that we stand for something that is revolutionary. I sometimes wonder if Americans have forgotten that we are revolutionary. 

Less than 250 years ago, there was no country in the entire world where any kind of real freedom could be found in the way we have freedom. There had rarely been any country in written history that has the kind of freedom found in the United States of America, for that matter.

I mean, we didn't just TALK about it. We wrote a DECLARATION declaring our freedom and inalienable rights, people. We put it in freakin' writing and made it the law! We said, "Hell no, we're not gonna take it anymore" and we meant it and that gives me goosebumps.

And you know what? Other countries followed suit. Obviously, not all of them, but lots and lots of them saw that it was good to let people be free and forge their own destiny without interference from...well, really anyone with the exception of laws that protect people and their stuff. How awesome are we?!?!

And yet...in the last few years there's been this really disturbing trend. There's been this trend that if people say something you don't like or agree with that doesn't harm you physically or damage your stuff we want a different kind of revolution. We want to string them up or force them out of their job or scream at them to, "GET OUT!".  

All because they don't view things a certain way or share a certain ideology or view life in the way other people think it should be lived or agree about what true freedom actually means. 

There's nothing American about that.

So, let's talk about two instances that I can think of right off hand that pissed a LOT of people off. 

First, we'll start with Phil Robertson. That Duck Dynasty guy. I'm pretty sure he's the head guy, but I don't watch the show, so that's an assumption and if it's wrong I'd still like to stay, mmmkay?

He was asked point blank how he felt about homosexuality. He wasn't pulling a Westboro (we all crazy up in here) Baptist Gathering Place. (I refuse to call them a church.) He wasn't standing on the street harassing good people or standing at a soldier's funeral chanting things I will not repeat here or anywhere else in this lifetime. He was ASKED. He answered.

But, here's the thing: People almost immediately began the now popular chant of "Yes, you may have freedom of speech but you don't have freedom from the consequences of that speech." 

Do you know how Orwellian that is? Do you understand that by threatening someone with loss of job and livelihood if they say things you don't like or agree with, you ARE damaging their freedom to speak their truth. That is a threat to damage them if they're speech doesn't agree with your truth or ideology. The very foundation of freedom of speech is understanding that others may disagree with everything you hold fundamentally true and, as long as it does not harm your life, your liberty or pursuit of happiness, they are FREE to say it and expect no repercussions like loss of job, threat of bodily harm and harassment. 

We're talking about someone who was asked a direct question about their private beliefs. He answered. That's it. 

 Did I agree with him? Doesn't matter because that's not the point.

Now, we have Colin Kaepernick. If you've been under a rock and don't know who he is, he's a back-up quarterback for the San Franscisco 49'ers and he has refused to stand for the National Anthem as it's played before each NFL game begins.

As a black man, he is making a statement about the abuses and  lack of equality toward African Americans in our country. He is making a statement that African American citizens in our country are not afforded the same equality as white Americans in our country.  

We are not talking about a man who threatened other people or harmed anyone or mocked anyone. We're talking about a guy who chose not to stand or place his hand over his heart during the National Anthem because he feels like his Nation isn't fulfilling its truest destiny of freedom and life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for ALL. 

Do I agree with him? Doesn't matter because that's not the point. 

Here's the REAL point: We are losing ourselves and what makes us so revolutionary!!!  We are defiling the very thing that so many actually died to protect! 

We are the country who says you can have your religious beliefs, no matter what those beliefs happen to be or stand for, so long as you are not harming another human being physically or harming their personal belongings and private property. 

It means that even if someone stands on the flag or refuses to stand for the Anthem, they have that RIGHT. They have that right without someone screaming for them to be fired or harmed.


Not just "whether you like it or not", but ESPECIALLY if you like it or not. The kind of freedom we have in this country is revolutionary BECAUSE of that, not in spite of it. 

My fellow Americans, we so often mourn the loss of life that our freedom has cost so many. We understand so deeply what freedom has cost. It is part of who we are! It is part of our very definition as Americans. FREEDOM IS NOT FREE!

It not only costs our beloved soldiers their lives. It costs us our pride and our right to be right and our anger. It costs the citizens of a free country the belief that their opinions are the ONLY opinions.

So, who are we if we, the very country who revolutionized freedom, begin to pick and choose how someone exercises their freedom?!  Who do we become if freedom is only true if we all agree on the same things in the same way?

Again, I am NOT talking about people who rape and pillage and murder and harm other people...we are talking about words and actions that express someones privately held beliefs and truths. Not bullying. Not standing on the streets screaming at people to cause damage, but privately held beliefs and feelings and hurts and truths, even if those feelings are publicly known. 

For me, I see other countries - countries who curb speech to the point that you can go to jail for speaking out against the reigning powers - and I KNOW that I do not want to begin the walk down that slope. It is slippery with self-righteousness and hate and harm and cruelty. It is lacking in compassion and kindness and hope and renewal and FREEDOM. 

 I do not want to walk a path that shoves someones truth back down their throat because they do not believe or feel as I feel or believe. I do not want to walk that path because one day someone is going to disagree with me. Some of you are disagreeing with me RIGHT NOW.

We are peeking over the edge of that slope. Can't you feel it?  Can't you feel the churning, vile cauldron of hate and descension in our beautiful land of the free because we will NOT allow someone else to be free to express themselves because they have the audacity to NOT agree with us or they express themselves in a way that YOU wouldn't express yourself? 

I feel it. The media feeds on it like sharks in a bloody pond. Social media's cup is overflowing with it. 

But, it's one on one, face to face, where we must make our stand. We must stand together and hear one another. 

You want to make America great again? Really? You want unity? Really? 

Then UNITE. Allow others to speak their truth without being offended. The very people who mock others offense are very often the ones who become so viciously vocal when they are offended, by the way. Surely you see it.

You are not harmed if the Duck Dynasty man holds a religious belief that you do not hold. You aren't. Keep living. Keep loving. Keep being kind. Be angry if he is NOT allowed to hold a religious belief so long as he doesn't harm others with that belief.

You are not harmed if a black man doesn't stand when the National Anthem is played. You aren't. Keep standing. Keep placing your hand over your heart. Keep loving. Keep being kind. Be angry if he is NOT allowed to sit, so long as he doesn't demand others do the same.

THAT IS UNITY. 

That is who we say we are when we go to other countries and fight for people who can't fight for themselves. That is who we say we are when we go to other countries that are killing people to oppress their privately held beliefs and feelings. 

I want to BE what revolutionizes Americans and makes us unique among all the countries on Earth. I want to LOVE those who don't agree with me. I want to HEAR them. I want freedom.

I want those things BECAUSE I love my country and everything it stands for. 

I believe in America and every word on the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States of America. I believe that freedom is worth dying for, even if it means I have to listen to and support someone who practices their freedom and rights differently than I practice mine.

I can only believe in freedom if I believe it for everyone. 

Maybe I can only truly believe in freedom if it means I must support someone's freedom when everything they stand for is diametrically opposed to everything that I stand for.


Over here still believing in inalienable rights,
Kristi




 

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Because It's Suicide Prevention Week


On August 5th, 2015, I learned something that brought me to my knees. Then, it curled me into the fetal position and left me on the floor. Then, it kicked me in the back and knocked life down around me and sat on me until I couldn't breathe.

In September, 2015, at the age of 44, I sat in my home contemplating suicide.

Oh, it wasn't some instant moment of, "Hey. Why don't I check out?". It was more a slow realization that I could not deal with this kind of Pain. 

I was not equipped to deal with the kind of Pain that embodies you and refuses to leave for even one minute,one second, of the day. And for a long moment, checking out seemed like a really beautiful option. A relief. A respite. It looked like hope.

I am what Suicide Prevention looks like.

Here's the thing: My entire life, in some form, people around me have consistently spoken to me, and about me, as someone who is strong. Maybe I am, I don't know. Maybe not. I don't think I care anymore.

What I am is broken and human. But, I'm learning that the truest, brightest light only gets in through the cracks, though, so I'm embracing my broken. Usually.

What I also know is that we don't talk about depression and anxiety and brokenness in a way that people who aren't struggling can understand that the people who ARE struggling look completely normal and, usually, OK. I mean, truly OK. 

We don't look like our lives have crumbled. We look like everyone else on the outside, but we aren't like everyone else on the inside at that moment.Maybe for lots and lots of moments and we need to talk about it without shame or fear of judgement. 

There is no judgement here in this place with me. None.

Usually, even the people around us don't know. No one advertises their pain on a big pain banner because - let's be real - our world idolizes, "I'm fine. How about you?." "I'm fine, thanks for asking." We actually like to think we're "finer" than most people and will go to great lengths to prove we're fine. We're awesome. Everything is awesome. Even if we're light years away from awesome, the motto is, "We're still fine!"

Most people don't want to be real because it hurts. It's a little embarrassing. I mean, God forbid you not be fine! God forbid you not be happy and OK and doing pretty well. It's not acceptable. (Acceptable is my new least favorite word, by the way.)

Here's the other thing: Pain and shame and hurt are the things we humans run from like our butts are on fire and it's burning the skin from our body in bite size pieces. It catches up with us through drugs or sex or food or shopping or lying or perfectionism or isolation or all sorts of other ways but sometimes, it catches up to us as we view the EXIT door like it's the last real thing in a world filled with lies and hurt and pain.

Too often, we're taught to fear, or avoid, the pain and the shame and the brokenness. So, if you find yourself in a place that you can't run from it and you can't deal with it, what do you do?

You try to kill it.

You try to kill the pain and the brokenness and then it'll be dead. It'll be gone!! In that moment, you aren't thinking about you being dead along with it. You mostly don't give a damn as long as the excruciating pain will just stop.

So, we need to talk about it.

 I need to talk about it. And because it's Suicide Prevention Week/Day/Month, I'm going to talk about it.

And I'm not talking to the people who've never been there and think they understand. You don't. I used to be one of you and you don't understand and I hope and pray you never, ever do.  

BUT, if you HAVE been there, if you ARE there, if you know someone who IS there, this is for you:

 It's OK to feel too much. It's OK to feel pain so visceral that it rearranges you, changes you forever. It's OK. You're OK. There is Hope.

 It's OK because you are really a gift that the world needs for those of us who have found ourselves in a place that isn't "fine".

I need you.

I swear to you there is Hope.I have been with you as you lay curled on the floor crying so hard you are soundless and formless and bereft of anything but Pain.

I know what it feels like to be soundless and formless, sweet friend.

I have been with you as you looked at the world that has gone dark and cold and it just keeps on spinning and spinning and why the hell won't it stop spinning for JUST A SECOND?!

I know the soundless place. It is the loudest, most chaotic place on Earth, isn't it? It's so loud that no sound can escape, but no sound can get in, either. Not even thought can survive there, but Hope lives. The depression, the pain, is lying to you. It is a liar. Hope is living and breathing.

Stand up. Crawl out. Claw your way to the door. There is more good coming. I swear to you, there is more coming.

You and I know that once the Exit door makes itself truly known, it never really gets unknown, though, right?

But, please listen to me now: You get another try. YOU GET TO TRY AGAIN. You are NOT out of options.

Listen closer: Pain is not your master and it is not your enemy. It is your teacher. It's trying to tell you something. You don't have to listen to it RIGHT NOW, but you have to let it visit for a minute. You can listen to it once you get out of the soundless place that's so loud you can't hear anything but the pain. Feel it, stand up with it and RISE.

This is the hard part, but you can do it. You are loved. You are loved right now, right where you are.

If you have people in your life who are telling you to just "get over it", ignore them. They don't know and they don't understand and that's OK. They don't have to. Ignore them.

If you have people in your life who are telling you to just "pray harder and believe more", ignore them. God has not placed them on your path. They do not know and they don't understand and that's OK. They don't have to. Ignore them.  

This minute, simply choose the option to take one more step. 

Turn off the music that feeds the darkness pouring into you and out of you. Refuse to feed that. Turn off the TV shows that trigger things in you that you don't understand. Stop immediately. Turn on happy music and eat something you love. Do this until you can get somewhere to get help. And you MUST get help. You can't do this one alone and that is OK. You don't have to. 

Get help. I will tell you I went through therapy about 5 years ago that helped me see my EXIT door and walk away. I went back to therapy and have every intention of continuing. Ignore people who tell you not to get help. Get help. Find someone who HEARS YOU and you feel comfortable with them hearing you and then tell them.

If you and your therapist determine that for now you need medication, take the medication. No one tells someone with cancer not to take meds, or rather,  healthy people don't tell people with cancer not to take medication or get help, right?

If you cannot heal right now without the meds, take the medication. TAKE THE DAMN MEDICATION. Ignore anyone who tells you that you don't need it if you can not do this without it right now. That is your call. You are the boss of you.

You probably won't need them forever but if you do, take the medication because you deserve your time on this plane of existence. Hold up your medicated head and LIVE. 

The medication will help you hear the lies in the depression if you can't hear them without it.

The medication will help you see the Pain without becoming the Pain. (Only you who've been here understand that statement. We are a tribe. We understand.)

YOUR LIFE IS WORTH LIVING. You matter. You are worth doing whatever you need to do to get healthy. No matter who has hurt you or who you have hurt, life is worth living.

Pain is real, but so is Love. Wrestle the Pain and the Love will come. Embrace the Pain and Love will return your embrace. Learn from the pain and Love will be your final teacher. I get that that may not make complete sense right now, this minute. Will you trust me when I say that you will understand and relief will come because you feel SO MUCH, so strongly and so deeply that you will understand if you just rise and stay and fight?

Please, please stay with us. You have something to say and do and achieve and be. I know because those of us who face the monster called suicide and knock it on its ass find a place inside that other people don't have. I know because I didn't have it once. I know because I have it now.

It is a new place where Hope and Compassion and Truth and Honesty live in a way they did not live in me before.

Stay, sweet friend.

Stay.

I love you. I feel you. I am you.

Kristi   


PS...If you are alone or you don't have anyone you trust enough to talk to or you simply can't tell anyone but a stranger or if you just need this number, I am begging you to call them if you think today might be the day the EXIT door looks better than the LIFE door:  

1-800-273-8255

They are available to you 24/7. They will hear you.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Love Wins

My social media feed is filled with Confederate flags and multi-colored banners with "PRIDE" written from end to end.  It's overflowing with terrorists acts and people being murdered on the beaches of Tunisia and beheadings in France. And it is exploding with my Christian brother's and sister's posts of outrage and anger. 

So, this post is merely a gentle reminder to all those who believe, as I believe, that God is on His throne and Christ stands at His right hand pleading with the Father on our behalf:

God has purposed the generations from end to end, since time began.  He makes no mistakes.

THIS is the world we are to SERVE.  The one just as it is right now. I'll say it again:  God planted us HERE, exactly.  We are to SERVE this world.

Jesus tells us clearly that there WILL be troubles.  But, He also says with equal clarity that He has overcome the world.

He HAS overcome it.  Not that he will, but that He has overcome. Currently.  Present time.  Right now.

We are to serve and love and share the Gospel.  We aren't to worry if people will hear it or respond or like us. That's not our job. The Holy Spirit is really good at what He does and He's got this.

We are to stand firm in our faith, but be gentle and kind. 

We are to forgive and love and serve.

We are not called to serve only those who are kind to us or those who believe as we believe or those that we like. Actually, Jesus is pretty clear that those kinds of people aren't His and aren't following His heart.  Those kinds of people are just like the world, not different from the world, as we're called to be.

"For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?"  Mathew 5:46

We are to love God with all our hearts and all our minds and all our souls, with all the strength that WE have and then to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.  Period.

Side note:  He never, not once, said that would be easy.  As a matter of fact, Jesus said,

“I have spoken these things to you so that you shall have peace in me. You shall have suffering in the world, but take heart, I have overcome the world.”  John 16:33   Basically, this is going to be tough, but you can do the hard things because I have paved the way. I HAVE overcome the world.  Now go, tell the world. 

And this:

"If the world hates you, you know that it has hated Me before it hated you."  John 15:18

We are planted exactly where we're supposed to be and we're called to love. It's hard and it's sometimes humbling.  (more often than not, actually)  But, while we were STILL sinners, Christ died for us.  Not when we finally got our junk together or when we were good enough or when we eventually dropped all that sin that was weighing us down, but WHILE we were STILL sinners, He died for us.  

How can we possibly do any less, even knowing that some will never hear us or be kind to us in return?  

Last week, Elisabeth Elliot passed away and man was she a walking example of knowing she was planted where she was supposed to be and loving those that were unlovable to her! 

The very people who murdered her husband were the people she served. She loved them FIRST.  Their salvation followed as she told them about Christ, but most important, as she LIVED out the love of Christ.  Those she served were cannibals. They ate her husband after they murdered him. Literally. I cannot fathom it.

 If you've never read about Mrs. Elliot, please do.  Her life was one of suffering and obedience and love.  

Her life reminds me that I am not called to love the lovable and easy.  Her life stands as a reminder of who I can become if my focus is on Jesus and Him alone.  Mrs. Elliot wasn't supernatural.  She loved Jesus and believed Him and His Word.  She BELIEVED.  

She didn't come to them with harsh words and retribution for murdering the man she loved.  She came to that tribe of lost people and loved them as her Father Loved. She loved them. She knew that they could not love as she loved because they did not know the very One who IS Love.

 I am reminded by Mrs. Elliot and, more importantly, the Word of God that this world isn't surprising God or wiping God from it's pages.  This world is following the exact path God foresaw and knew and He loved it anyway.  My thanks for that cannot be expressed on this little corner of the blogosphere because He loved me right in my sin, too.  

I want to remember and know that my light can only shine when it reflects His love.  

"But I say to you, love your enemies and bless the one who curses you, and do what is beautiful to the one who hates you, and pray over those who take you by force and persecute you."

We either believe Him or we don't.  We either obey Him or we follow the world.  We either trust Him or we don't.  There is no gray or middle ground.  Stand firm in Love.  











Tuesday, June 23, 2015

The Plank of Racism

I've been blessed to travel many parts of the world, but I've lived my entire life in the state of South Carolina.  It's a beautiful state with both rolling mountains and a beautiful coastline. We have magnolia trees, backyard gardens and, usually, the opportunity to celebrate all four seasons. 

Fireflies, pecan pies, sweet tea and homemade biscuits covered in sausage gravy are common here. The beauty of comfort food and hot Southern days cannot be overstated and those from the South know this truth. I'd remind those that question this to remember no one retires and moves up North.

I live a little over four hours from the Atlantic Ocean and hardly an hour from the mountains of Asheville, NC.  I can be in Atlanta in three hours and Charlotte in a barely more than an hour.

And then there's Charleston.  It's almost exactly three hours from my home and I've been there more than a hand full of times. There's fabulous food, incredible architecture, winding rivers and easy access to the ocean. The lyrical drawl unique to the South is fully realized in Charleston.

And there's history. Charleston's history includes horrific stories of racism and hate. That history now includes nine people being shot during their Bible study at a historically black church by a white man who claimed that black people were "stealing our women and taking over our country and it has to stop." White women take note because he was talking about you and me. 

I'm ashamed to say I couldn't have imagined this truth.  It's truth because it happened.  I'm ashamed to say that I quite probably would have argued with someone who said that that kind of racism still lived in my home state. Even with the history SC has, I'd have still argued. 

A white supremacist. That's what he was. Someone who believes that the white race is superior to all others and that white people deserve to rule over other races. Read that again. 

This young man BELIEVED that as truth and he's not the only one out there. That feels surreal to me but it's not a fantasy and it can't just be ignored.

And over the last few days, I've gotten real with myself, because if we're not going to be real with ourselves, how can any of this ever change?  Don't we want it to change?

I've watched people on my Facebook defend a flag that means nothing to me and, let's be real, nothing to them, either.

I've watched people bring up terrorism and Islam or any number of things to avoid talking about the white supremacist and what it all really means and how we all play a part. 

I've seen others post about those families open forgiveness to a man who murdered their family in cold blood for no other reason than because they were black.  For no other reason than because they were not white. 

I've watched people post beautiful tributes showing more than 10,000 people of all colors marching together in unity across the Arthur Ravenel Bridge in Charleston . I've seen people post the faces of those nine precious souls who were shot in cold blood and I've read their stories. I've listened to Pastor Pinckney on Youtube and grieved that he's no longer here and thought long and hard on Father's Day about children who's Daddy wasn't there to celebrate. 

But, there's still more truth to tell.  There's still a log in our own eye. 

I've watched people defend and offend and do anything but just tell the damn truth.  Make no mistake, telling the truth is hard. It's so hard that God Himself had to tell us, "Thou shalt NOT lie." 

I grew up in the South and I've heard the "N" word my entire life.  I've heard it in my home growing up and through out my school years.  I heard a pastor use it once and I've never forgotten it. 

 I've heard the undertones of people not brave enough, or honest enough, to own their racism outright. I've heard the undertones of racism by people who truly had no idea that the things they were saying were racist.

I've seen people whisper behind the backs of interracial couples and I've seen them openly look down on interracial children. (I actually didn't let that go, but did I say enough? I don't think so.)

I've watched a drug addicted, non-working member of my own family go on and on about the low-down black people (he didn't say black, either) on welfare.  (while HE was collecting a welfare check and drawing food stamps because he'd used drugs often enough to fry his brain and his health).  I had to leave the room, but I didn't say a word. And I'm ashamed of that. 

I've heard racist jokes and seen racism first hand.  I've heard people say, "I'm not racist, but..." about nine thousand four hundred and sixty times and they truly didn't realize that "not being racist, but..." IS racist.  Period.

And still, I was utterly shocked that a white man walked into a pre-dominantly black church and murdered people for being black.  

It has to stop. We have to tell the truth.  We have to stop pretending we're not racists if we even listen to racist jokes, because we are. We are part of the problem as long we allow that to be said in front of us.

We have to stand up or walk away every single time someone pretends that someone's color makes them less than a human being. 

We have to stop listening when someone says they wouldn't want their child to marry someone of a different color.  We have to say to them, "Then you're a racist. Do you think your child is better than theirs?"

Because every single time we don't choose to stop racism, what we're doing is saying it's perfectly OK.  That's uncomfortable, but it's true. 

When we choose silence, we're creating an environment where men like Dylann Roof grow up and believe, truly believe, that somehow his being born white makes him superior. We like to think that the little racists things in our own lives don't birth the kind of racism that Roof displayed when he gunned down nine people in their church. We're wrong. 

It makes men like Roof think that murdering nine human beings is OK.  I know that because he killed them.  He murdered those nine people and believed what he was doing was the right thing to do. He sat with those people for over an hour and listened to them pray and worship and read their Bibles and still stood up and murdered them. 

He told the police he almost didn't go through with it because they were so nice. How can that not make your heart bleed?  They were nice to him. They welcomed Dylann Roof into their church and treated him with kindness. But still...they were black.

He BELIEVED that being white made him superior.  He learned that. He was taught that as truth by someone, somewhere.  

We, who grew up with quiet racism, like to tell ourselves that having parents who used the "N" word or grandparents who did, aren't really part of the problem.  We're more comfortable pointing out the low-hanging pants or the slang talking youth and saying "They're" the problem. 

And yet, Jesus said, "Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye."  We have a beam in our eye.  We have a generational beam in our eye that we absolutely refuse to own.

We're not comfortable admitting that young men in hoodies make us uncomfortable because....why?  I live here and not once has a young black man ever so much as laid his hands on me in anger and yet I've heard over and over to be careful. To be wary.  It's racism.  Flat out. 

I can't do anything about black on black crime in Chicago and neither can anyone else in my sphere of influence.  I can't do anything about all those statistics that people who can't seem to own their quiet racism post every single time systemic racism comes up in the news. 

What I CAN do is say that for me...for my house...we're going to tell the truth and we're going to try and change. I want to know absolutely that the things I can do are being done because people are dying and hurting and anger and hate is winning.  

Nine people were murdered in my home state FOR BEING BLACK and I'm horrified.  I'm sad.  I'm sickened.  I'm awake. 

Jesus also said, "Love thy neighbor as thyself."

I want to live that. I want to own THAT.  

How can I love my neighbor in the same way that I love myself?  

The first thing I can do is to tell the truth.  It'll begin to set us ALL free. 

The morning after this terrorist act, I sat in a doctor's office across from a black woman listening to the news on her phone.  It was just loud enough to hear and when she looked up at me...I couldn't look away. 

I started to cry.  I sat in that damn doctor's office and cried. I hate to cry.

And do you know what?  She hugged me. She didn't hate to cry. 

We sat in the waiting room with our arms around each other and we cried while others looked on. We cried for lives that were senselessly lost but I knew....I KNEW....even with her arms around me, that I couldn't understand what it felt like to be afraid that I could be shot for no other reason than the color of my skin.  I'd never truly thought of life in those terms.  I understood that fear was real for her.  SHE could have been shot for no other reason than the color of her skin by Dylann Roof even though he'd have walked by me without a glance because I was white.

That's real.  That has to change and it starts with MY skin color.  It starts with every white person with racism buried deep within our lives, quietly sitting there, to admit it and own it. 

It starts when white people stop whipping up Chicago statistics because we don't want to talk about that time we said "I'm not racist, but..." or the time we laughed at Uncle Bobby's racist story or the time we didn't stop our friends from using the "N" word.

Sin and repentance is hard business. I believe that sin is a condition and repentance is humbling and racism is sin.  

Racism killed nine people in Charleston because they weren't white.  Can we tell the truth?  Can we pull the log from our own eyes and love?  

I pray so.  






Monday, June 15, 2015

Losing My Religion

I'm tired of religion. I'm even more tired of religious people. 

The Pharisees were religious. They were the only people Jesus couldn't reach when his sandals met this dusty Earth. Man, did they tick Jesus off!  And Jesus really ticked them off, too!

The Pharisees are perfect examples of religious people being "right" and still being wrong. The Pharisees were more concerned with being right than they were the people they were trying to reach.  

The Pharisees would leave a hungry man on the side of the road if they thought he was wrong enough. 

The Pharisees taught about God, but they didn't love Him. 

They're the perfect example of religious people believing they are doing good things while sitting in their glass houses and missing God as He walks right up and talks with them.  (Literally)    

....Please God, don't let me miss you. Ever...Please.... 

I'm tired of religious people arguing about things that Jesus didn't argue about or care about or didn't really even seem to notice very much. I know those people because I used to be one of them. 

I'm tired of religion being in the news.  

I'm tired of people expecting the government to spread the Gospel because they're too busy to do it, or too lazy. 

Something about all that fatigue is opening my eyes to something I'm not tired of, though: 

The Cross and Jesus. 

The fuzzier religion gets, the clearer Jesus gets. He gets more lovely and more gracious. 

The farther away I get from religion, the closer I get to the voice that says to me:  "Do not be afraid."  "Love your neighbor as you love yourself".  

The farther I get from religion, the closer I get to the voice that consistently said, "I am willing", even when no one else was. 

The cross is divisive, isn't it?  It's not pretty and sweet, with nice little hymns playing in the background and civilized little cups of grape juice being passed around. 

 The cross causes us to change if we've ever stopped long enough to look at it and see God hanging there in our place.  We either feel humility and repentance call our name or anger and hate and disbelief.  

Some try to explain it away or work really hard to deserve it. God says we are to allow God to bleed out for us and gasp His last breath in our place and accept a gift we simply are not worthy of receiving.  

Religion spends a good bit of time telling people that Sunday from 10am till noon and, possibly, from 6pm till 8:30pm the Holy Spirit will show up at so and so address. Show up. It'll be a fun time!  And God weeps.

Jesus showed up every day of the week, at all hours of the day and night to love on people and serve them and listen to them.  He still does that, even if you haven't stepped foot in a building with a steeple in decades. 

Jesus showed up on the doorsteps of sinners.  He showed up where they were. 

God busted out of meeting in a box more than 2000 years ago when He nailed Himself to a cross so we'd have a chance at redemption.

Religion spends entirely too much time and money on new programs and equipment and fancy pews and fancy buses with graphically designed slogans on the side and big screen TV's and sound systems when all they really need is Jesus and grace.  

When what we all need is nothing more than Jesus and grace. Amazing, sweet grace...

Smaller churches spend a lot of time trying to catch up to the big churches and big churches spend millions to stay big.  I mean, they're reaching people, right?  

I suppose some do, but then the cycle starts over and something is missing in most religious places. It's missing. It's missing because church isn't a building.  It's missing because religion is not Jesus.

I'm tired of religion. 

I want Jesus. 

I want to tell people about Jesus. 

I want them to know that sin is a condition. 

Sin isn't just things that we do, like lying and lusting and cheating and pride. Sin is a condition.  We want what we want when we want it and we'll tell ourselves anything to think we're better than "that guy" or "that girl".  

All of us.  We tell ourselves whatever we need to tell ourselves to avoid the truth that we need Jesus and that is all. That. Is. All.

God doesn't quantify sin, either.  Humans do that.  Lying and pride and gossip are equal to lust and adultery and murder.  Sin is a condition. We all are suffering from that condition equally.

Religion will try it's best to tell you that one is worse than the other because religion has nothing to do with Jesus.  Religion has nothing to do with truth.  

Truth, by its very definition, is exclusive, by the way. 

The compelling truth of the cross will attract all kinds of cynics.  I have no interest in arguing with them.  

The compelling truth of the cross will attract all kinds of mockery and scorn.  I'm OK with that. It's tough and humbling to truly see the hard truth that we aren't in control of our own destiny.  It's hard to stop and look at our own lives and recognize that we are not in control. Of anything. 

Oh, yes....we can make choices or go right or go left, but we have no control of where those choices lead or how they turn out.  If we did, we'd all be blissfully happy all the time with no worries and every choice we'd ever made would have lead us right back to happy and wealthy and healthy and whole.  But, they didn't, because we aren't in control.  And that's a humbling thing. So, bring on the mockery and scorn. 

The cross holds the greatest claim in history and that claim wasn't this:  Religion and rules and laws will save you! God did that first to SHOW you those things didn't work.  Ever. Those things make your sin heavy and real so you know you can't bear it.  You can't bury it. 

You can't live through sin.

The cross holds the greatest claim in history that is THIS:

The greatest claim in history is that God died with your sins strapped around his neck. He died. All the way.  

But, death could not claim Him. He rose. He slew death like a boss.  

The sinLESS wrapped Himself in the sinFUL and He OVERCAME.  

He threw off sin and shame and found joy because He loves His creation. He loves His creation just like it is right now.  

He DIED for His creation just like it is right now.  We aren't surprising Him!  And still...while we were sinners, He loved us.

And He rose. He extended His hand and said, "I love you. Now go and tell the world. It will be hard and it will be scary, but don't be afraid. I've got this. All you have to do is tell them and leave the rest to me."

Jesus said, don't be afraid.  I overcome the world. Now go. Tell them I love them and I'll be back.

And LOVE THEM THE SAME WAY I HAVE LOVED YOU. 

...the same way that He loved me...

...the same way that He loved me...

...Do you know all the things I've done, Jesus? Do you know all the horrific things I've thought and said and done?...

...Yes, I do...Every. Single. One.

...And you love me all the way, anyway?...

...Yes...All the way...

The Pharisees talked a lot about being clean and pure and holy.  They talked a lot about laws and religious ceremony.  But, they had no concern for the heart of a person or loving people or showing mercy or grace. 

They were more concerned with the temple than the One the temple housed.

The most religious people of Jesus' day blocked the door to God Himself.  The writer of the Law, the Creator Himself, was not good enough for religious men.

Religion isn't about plays and meetings and even Bible studies with sweet groups of men and women.  It's not about us, at all. 

It's about the cross.  It's about grace and love. It's about accepting a gift and then sharing that priceless gift.

It's about Jesus.

And it's time we said so.