Stay in the Story

On Saturday I spoke at my home church about our need as Christians to stay in our story with God, to stay in our story as followers of Jesus, living engaged with our world. I spoke about the need for us to keep pushing into the pain and suffering and joy and laughter that surrounds us. I challenged each of us to stay engaged and not look away or hide from the hard things in our world.

“This is our vocation: to take up our cross, and be Jesus for the whole world, living with the joy and sorrow woven into the pattern of our days.” N.T. Wright

And then Brussels. Brussels, a place I have visited, an airport I have traveled through. Belgium, a country that has been a delight in every visit, the people helpful and polite and the chocolate heavenly. 

Cruel, ugly, frightening death and terror. Again. Kevin and I are scheduled to spend two weeks in Europe in April, including Brussels and Amsterdam. Yesterday, we woke to the too familiar news of yet another terror attack.

If you would like to judge me for not writing about the near constant terror attacks that occur in other parts of the globe, I hope you’ll pause. Because for many of us who react with more emotion to certain places when harm is done to them, I would just say this: We have visited those places. We know people in those cities. We have eaten in those restaurants, ridden on that metro. The same was true of Paris. Those are familiar places to us and that they could be the recipient of such horror and death, shocks us. It doesn’t mean we care less about death in Turkey or Syria or Nigeria. It is simply that we can personally relate to Brussels and Paris and London and New York, because we have memories there. And perhaps because we have been in these places, it scares us more because it could have happened when we were there. This brings our mortality front and center.

This world pushes me into prayer more and more. The apostle Paul wasn’t kidding when he said, “Pray without ceasing.”

All this is happening while Kevin and I are tucked away in the Idaho mountains enjoying a last hurrah of fresh powder and XC skiing in surroundings so beautiful it takes away my breath. It is a surreal thing to be texting a friend in Europe, checking on her safety, while staring out the window as snow gently falls to earth. Our world is getting smaller.

I was reminded today while gliding along fresh snow, surrounded by white-frosted pine trees and the sound of a distant woodpecker, of the need to get outdoors into nature. I was reminded of the craving of my mind and body to experience quiet and peace and beauty in nature. In Idaho we are spoiled. There are few people and a lot of mountains, rivers and deserts to explore and experience.

Let’s stay in the world, in the middle of the mess and walk arm and arm with Jesus, because that is the only way to survive. And when you do, when you stay engaged, when you relentlessly continue to push into the pain and suffering and joy and laughter in this world, you will see Jesus working miracle after miracle. And it will change you. You will discover that what you started out to do (being Jesus to the world around you) has really changed you the most - that the person who received the biggest blessing is you.

“The Spirit, however, gives you joyful fearlessness by making you more aware of reality. It assures you that you are a child of the only One whose opinion and power matters. He loves you to the stars and will never let you go.” Timothy Keller, Prayer -  experiencing awe and intimacy with God

“Above all, love one another deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8

Some Things I've Learned About Winter Travel

I travel often and after years of trial and error have developed some specific travel habits. Here I share the knowledge I have gained for my fellow, crazy winter travelers. 

Planes are cold but coats are bulky and uncomfortable, so in the winter I always wear a sweater with a hood and bring a lightweight wool wrap to use as a blanket. Slip your coat into your carry on, or if you're feeling lucky, into your checked bag. 

12 hour plane rides are the best. . . 

Bring your slippers and your sweatpants. It will feel silly and granny-like when sliding slippers into your suitcase, but your feet will thank you when lounging in your hotel room or Airbnb apartment. 

Layers are your friend. You never know what the weather may bring. The weather app lies to me all the time! 

Long underwear or tights and then jeans. Your legs will thank you! 

The warmest boots you have and wool socks. Thank you Uggs, although why Australians need sheepskin lined boots, remains a mystery. 

that time we flew from Rome to Copenhagen
and packed all our clothes (apparently)

When you return indoors after a long walk, leave your coat on until you’re warm. This prevents a chill which can last all day. In cafes I often take my husband’s coat and drape it over my legs until I’m warm. And wear your hat all day. 

Wear your sunglasses even when it’s cloudy to keep the wind from your eyes. 

Be very sure that picture you want is worth frostbite. This is a hard rule to follow, and I am always breaking it. 

The coffee shop is your warmest friend. 

And always walk on the sunny side of the street. 

Happy Travels!

Eight Frigid Miles

Last weekend was the coldest in New York City for decades, so of course Kevin and I were there. Saturday it was minus 10 degrees with wind chill, a perfect day to explore the city - eight miles of it - on foot. It was a blast. We walked across Central Park, towards Morningside Heights, then across the campus of Columbia University and mingled with people much smarter than us. We stumbled across an amazing service at St. John the Divine. We ate delicious Ethiopian food, and as the hours passed, the temperature plummeted. The frigid air hurt my nose even though it was covered by a face mask. Yes, we were fashionably dressed in America’s fashion capital.

We arrived in New York City earlier in the week, and Kevin spent his days in business meetings while I explored. For the weekend, we moved out of the business hotel reserved for us in mid-town Manhattan and traveled uptown to an Airbnb apartment.

As we turned onto the street in East Harlem where we would be staying our last three days in New York, consternation filled me. This neighborhood looked sketchy. Towers of public housing units surrounded us. I wondered if we would be safe. The situation wasn’t made better by the fact that instead of hailing a cab, we had hired a town car (they are more reliable and cost the same as a taxi). However, the car company sent a stretch limousine rather than a normal black car; not a little awkward. It felt weird as the driver parked the ridiculous stretch limousine in front of public housing units. As I climbed out of the car, pretending to be invisible, I saw children racing home from school, moms holding their little ones’ hands as they hurried towards shelter.  As we climbed the worn steps to our fifth floor apartment, I reminded myself this apartment received great reviews. And, indeed, we had a delightfully cold stay in East Harlem. I loved being in a  real neighborhood with real families.

This was our first foray into East Harlem, and I confess I chose this location because The Corner Bookstore is just blocks away on the Upper East Side. I like to get away from sameness. I like new things. New places. New people. One of my favorite things is to attend different churches in different cities. In New York this was easy, because many churches have services every day. I was excited to attend a Noon service at St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Cathedral in mid-town Manhattan. It was beautiful and my feet especially enjoyed the break from New York’s concrete jungle.

This was my favorite experience with NYC. In year’s past I would never have stayed in East Harlem. I would have taken one look at the street and said, “Take me to the nearest Marriott.” But a few years ago I decided to live a brave life. And I discovered once we let go of fear, the doors to adventure and beauty and friendship, and all manner of new things, are flung open. 

Life is precious and fleeting. I want to embrace it. I don’t want to live a "Groundhog Day” life, every day a rerun of the last. When we do things that make us uncomfortable, we often find waiting for us, joy and satisfaction. I am the boss of my life. I want to look back and say, “It was good."

About a dozen times Saturday, as we walked those eight frigid miles through East Harlem and Columbia University and the Upper East Side and Central Park, I said to Kevin, "What a good day."  We watched a hockey game outdoors in Central Park, and strolled down St. Nicholas Avenue discovering architecture we’d never before seen in Baptist Church buildings. 

We made one last stop at The Corner Bookstore, and the shopkeeper laughed out loud when we entered wearing our face masks, hats, scarves, gloves and long coats.

On our last night I stood looking out the window. It was negative degrees and people were bundled and rushing to escape the cold. Cars were streaming down the hill from the Upper East Side. The wind was blowing through the the cracks in the windows of the old apartment building. I wondered in amazement that this is my life. I could have stayed home and Kevin would have flown to New York, conducted his business meetings and caught the first plane home. Instead, we had an adventure. We went where we had not been. We saw what we had not seen. We brought home new memories.

And it was good.

Learning How to Be

I have been thinking lately about the difference between "being" and "doing" and what that actually looks like. How does a person go about "being"? I'm pretty sure it looks less busy than I have been this winter.

The New York Times article entitled, Love People, Not Pleasure, says if you want to be unhappy, seek external or "extrinsic" goals like achieving reputation or being famous. If you want to be happy, seek internal or "intrinsic" goals like deep, long-term relationships.

Apparently, "People who rate materialistic goals like wealth as top personal priorities are significantly likelier to be more anxious, more depressed and more frequent drug users, and even to have more physical ailments than those who set their sights on more intrinsic values."

This made me think of Beth Moore's book, Children of the Day. She says, “The idea of shifting the approach of our prayer requests from achieving to receiving is not an original concept, but it’s a fresh perspective for me. . . seeking God to achieve nobler things like love for someone hateful, clarity for mind-tangling scenarios. . . I’m just learning that approaching Him with an emphasis on achieving is a pale second to an outlook of receiving.”

I want to learn how to "be" during the hard, confusing times as well as the good times and not just how to "do", how to act or react.

There is a lot of fun to be had and I am all in for that! Bring on the family vacations, the outrageous laughter of silly, inside family jokes, cold days spent skiing in the Idaho mountains, blistering hot days spent floating down the Boise River on a paddle board. Still, it is in knowing who I am and sharing my life with others that brings lasting joy. And I am really, really all for that.

We the People

“Bravery may mean learning when to shut our mouths and to observe rather than to opine, to seek to understand rather than to be understood.” Jonathan Merritt

There’s a presidential race taking place in the United States? Maybe you’ve noticed. It’s super fun for Americans. Except it’s not. 

The message from each candidate is mostly negative and blaming. They each want us to know who to blame. This means we need never take responsibility for our own problems, individually or as a nation. This is great marketing. Use your words to instill fear and people will follow you. We are a people easily duped.

Yet we’re all citizens of the same country. Some of us believe in a conservative government. Some of us believe in a liberal government. Some of us even believe in a libertarian government (after all, I do live in Idaho). We’ve bought into the belief that these different views require us to despise each other.

Why must we dislike each other because we believe differently? To me this is like saying, “You prefer Starbucks Coffee and I prefer Peet’s Coffee so, of course, we can’t be friends.” It’s more complicated than that. I get it, but your differing political beliefs should not bring out the bad in me. How you present your political beliefs, well that’s where it gets tricky. I am dismayed by those friends of mine on social media who seem only to look for the negative, who post angry and hurtful articles about how “those people” are ruining our country.

Here’s the thing. I will rarely listen to your opinions if they are presented from a negative viewpoint. If you want my attention, present what you believe in a positive way, without disparaging all other views. There must be something good in your beliefs. If the only way you can discuss politics (or education or religion, etc.) is by tearing down the “other,” I will disregard what you say.

I do not live life from a  negative viewpoint (this is mostly true. . . ). Maybe you think that’s naive of me or Pollyanna-ish, but this is my life and I refuse to wake up each day and look around for what’s wrong or who is wrong. I choose instead to, “Get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.” Abraham Joshua Heschel.

Because it is for freedom Jesus set us free, and living into fear or hate or negativity is not freedom. It is self-imposed bondage.

“Integrity consists not in having no presuppositions but of being aware of what one’s presuppositions are and of the obligation to listen and interact with those who have different ones."  N.T. Wright

One of the greatest joys in my life are my friends who are completely, radically opposite from me politically. I love them so much. My friends who hold to different beliefs enrich my life. I cannot imagine life without them. How boring! I want conversations that push me to consider why I think what I think. I want to be in relationship with real people who believe differently than me, so I keep remembering they are real people. I want them to be all up in my face, so when I am tempted to let enmity grow in me towards that other political party or that other denomination, I see instead the faces of those I love. And I remember there is no other. There is only we the people.

“Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another.” John 13:34

"As life carries on, I hope my edges soften, my defenses weaken. I so desperately want it said of me that I loved well." Jen Hatmaker

The Bittersweet Goodbye

Last night we said goodbye to our friend, Fabrice. Today we are sad. And we rejoice. 

One year ago eleven year old Fabrice arrived in Boise from Rwanda to receive medical care. Fabrice was suffering from a deep bone infection and without the generous care provided by St. Luke's Medical Center, a skilled pediatric surgeon and Walgreens pharmacy, today he would not have his left leg. 

When I first met Fabrice, he was in a wheelchair. While in Boise he had multiple surgeries and progressed from wheelchair to crutches to running and jumping and playing soccer. Next week Fabrice will fly home to Rwanda. He will return to his mom and dad and siblings, including a baby brother he barely knows. 

For the last several months Fabrice has been part of our children's bible study. He speaks the same language as our refugee friends. Fabrice will be missed. His smile could light the world. His heart for Jesus nearly bursts from his chest. His hand was always the first to shoot up when we asked who would like to pray. His insight into who Jesus is, is profound. 

Last night we said goodbye. We circled around him. Three adults and fifteen children. We put our hands on him and the children prayed. Some in English, some in Kinyarwanda. I tried not to cry as I listened to my young friends pour out their hearts to God, as their faith touched us. 

Afterwards, I hugged Fabrice hard and said, "We will always pray for you. God’s blessing is on you and your future is big.”

We are grateful to have shared this past year with Fabrice. Our lives are richer because of him.

A friend loves at all times. Proverbs 17:17

Please, Not On Our Watch

Last night I said to my husband, “Maybe we and others like us have a responsibility in this. At first I thought this was a joke and nothing to pay attention to, but I think it’s not a joke. It’s real and we have some responsibility in letting it get this far.”

I was talking about the rise of presidential candidate Donald Trump in my country. Mr. Trump is the leading Republican candidate for president.

This morning as I prayed, tears ran down my face. How can so many people in my own country follow hate? Because that is what Mr. Trump speaks at every opportunity.

I keep thinking of the quote “All that it takes for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” Is that what is happening? Are we good men and women letting evil triumph, mistakenly thinking this too shall pass, all the while doing nothing?

Many people reference Hitler and the Holocaust and compare the political climate today to that era, but we don’t have to go back that far. We only need go back to 1994 in Rwanda, where hate speech led the way to genocide.

I live every day in community, in friendship, in love with genocide survivors from Rwanda. It was them I thought of this morning as I cried. I have spent the last three years reading and studying the Rwandan genocide and listening to the survival stories of my friends. 

Hate is a powerful motivator, and Mr. Trump knows it. He is no fool. He is cunning. But he is not a worthy leader. He is not leading. He is herding. He is herding my country down a tunnel of hate.

Yesterday I began N.T. Wright’s book, Reflecting the Glory, Meditations for Living Christ’s Life in the World. Mr. Wright begins powerfully with these words, “This is our vocation: to take up our cross, and be Jesus for the whole world, living with the joy and sorrow woven into the pattern of our days.”

This is not easy to, “be Jesus for the whole world.” I desperately want to put my head in the sand and forget there is a presidential campaign, forget there are mass shootings, forget there is terrorism, forget there is evil. But to do this would mean I am aiding and abetting that same evil. And I cannot live in daily contact with genocide survivors and turn my head away from the evil that is happening all around me. Right here in my country. In my home state. In my city.

When good men and women do nothing in the presence of evil, evil wins. Every time.

Are we okay with that?

Please, let’s be Jesus to a world desperately needing him. Let’s live his love and peace and hope to a world desperately wanting those very things. Sometimes it’s hard. Right now it’s harder than ever. Lately, every day feels like final exams in following Jesus. Will today be the day I fail? The day I give in to evil? The day I turn my head the other way so I don't have to watch as hate wins the day?

Please, let us love each other better. Let us love our enemies. Let’s love the people we are afraid of. Let’s love every follower of Trump and Mr. Trump himself so much that there is no room left for hate.

Please, let us love one another.

“Above all, love one another deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8

Giving Thanks in a Hurting World

Last week was hard for those of us who share our lives with refugees. By week’s end my heart felt bruised. Despite phone calls and letters and appeals to our government officials, the United States Congress passed an anti refugee bill. I don’t know why this was such a shock to me, since social media beat the anti refugee drum loudly.

The negative comments from my social media friends surprised me. And hurt. To the many people calling for stricter background checks I wanted to ask, do you know what the laws already require for refugees currently entering the United States? Because existing laws are stringent, and I think if more of us knew what is already required, we wouldn't be so afraid. Current Security Screening Process

Still, it has been my experience that the hard days do pass and good days return. We went to church last weekend, bringing two overfilled carloads of New Americans-refugees. Kevin and I were crawled all over and hugged by a myriad of small children. When my sweet friend, three year old Agisaro, climbed onto my lap and snuggled in, the hurt around my heart started loosening. She soon wandered back to her mom and four year old Simbi who was sitting beside me leaned up and whispered, “Sawna, I want on your lap.” I felt the hurt crumble away even more.

After church we gave away over thirty coats our friends from near and far had sent to keep our newer friends warm this winter. For some this will be their first Idaho winter, their first experience with snow and ice.

Kevin spent Monday afternoon cleaning the gutters of our house. He enlisted the help of thirteen year old New American, Justin and offered to pay him for his labor. Justin’s mom said, “No. Don’t pay him, because you don’t pay family to help you.” And all the remaining hurt fell away from my heart. How could I stay in a place of hurt when I am loved so well?

Tuesday we had Thanksgiving dinner for our Bible study kids. Thirteen noisy, giggling, refugee kids around the table. Some have been here four or five years. Our newest arrived just two months ago. We went around the table and shared what we are most thankful for this year. Half of these children said, “I’m grateful to be alive and that my family is alive.” Have you ever heard a ten year old speak those words? They are not easy words to hear.

This Thanksgiving we will be sixteen around our table. Caleb and Claire arrived home safely yesterday, in spite of the snow, and I breathed a sigh of relief. My sweet Rebecca will be my cooking partner in the kitchen. Friends and family will fill the benches. When two year old David does something outrageously cute, his mom and I will share a look, and I will get to see that sparkling smile in her eyes that I never saw when I first met her. America has been good to her family. Kevin will sit at the head of the table and lead us in a prayer that will likely make me cry, because how in the world did all these people come into my life and stick?

I know holidays are hard for some. I’m so sorry. I wish I could invite you all into my home and share this life - this love with you. For a long time, I wasn’t brave enough to let people inside my little world, inside my little family. For a long time it was just us four, Kevin, Shawna, Caleb, Rebecca. It was sweet, but sometimes it was lonely.

I’m so glad Africa came to Boise. If you don’t know any New Americans, any refugees, I hope you’ll meet some. I hope you’ll let them bless you with their friendship and love. 

This Thanksgiving there are no Americans more thankful than the newest ones. And maybe me.

Psalm 146:5-9
Happy is the one whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the Lord his God,
the Maker of heaven and earth,
the sea and everything in them.
He remains faithful forever,
executing justice for the exploited
and giving food to the hungry.
The Lord frees prisoners.
The Lord opens the eyes of the blind.
The Lord raises up those who are oppressed.[b]
The Lord loves the righteous.
The Lord protects foreigners
and helps the fatherless and the widow,
but He frustrates the ways of the wicked.

Please Let Them In

One of my favorite refugees

My husband was in Europe when the Paris attacks occurred last Friday. He had been in Lisbon, Portugal for business meetings. His travel route took him through Paris. 

This isn’t the first time we have been separated during a terrorist attack. On September 11, 2001, my husband was in Boston when the attacks in our own country took place. He had just flown into the airport each terrorist originated from. It took almost a week and a long drive to Detroit to find an open airport for him to get home. It was a scary week, made bearable only because of neighbors who loved us well. Those days are burned into my memory.

I understand fear. I spent most of my life in fear, worrying about all the things, big and little that life throws at us. I have had melanoma twice. The first time when our daughter was one year old. I understand fear.

But Jesus has shown me a better way. For I have not given you a spirit of fear but of power and of love and of sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7)

I have lived into fear. I understand fear. But I have found a better way and it is the way of trusting Jesus. Of living his words. (The Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5-7).

I choose to listen to Jesus, to trust Jesus, to obey his words. Some days I do all this better than others, but always it is my desire to follow Jesus well. I think it’s a big deal to Jesus that we trust him all the way through life and not just when it's easy.

When our son graduated from college, he was accepted into Officer Candidate School, U.S. Army. I’m so grateful God had already walked me away from fear, because being an Army mom has the potential to open wide the door to fear. Before our son left for training, I said these words to him, “I am so grateful to have raised brave children. I am so proud of your choice to live a brave life.”

My life today is not filled with fear and this is only because of God. This is only because I started believing he could be trusted. I started believing what he says is true. I started believing him for real. I started believing it is not the size of my faith that matters. It is the size of my God.

I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace. You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have conquered the world. John 16:33

Yesterday, I spent too much time on Facebook. I was dismayed at the self-preserving, fear-filled atmosphere I found there from many of my American friends. When, I wondered, did we become a nation of fear? When did we become so concerned with our own safety and comfort that we could be okay watching families languish in refugee camps for years. When did my life become more important than the African life, than the Syrian life? I don’t know. But I know we are all equally valued, equally loved by God.

Most people, I think, don’t understand the refugee process in the United States. We do not have Middle Eastern or African refugees slipping over our borders in great numbers like is happening in Europe. To get to the United States as a refugee is a long and difficult process. Many of my refugee friends spent fifteen years in camps jumping through the myriad of hoops that is the route to a safe home.

http://bearingdrift.com/2015/11/18/myths-vs-facts-in-the-syrian-refugee-issue/ 

http://immigrationforum.org/blog/a-robust-and-layered-approach-to-refugee-screening/ 

http://www.refugees.org

http://www.businessinsider.com/refugee-screening-process-in-us-2015-11

This morning I prayed for my country. I prayed for our leaders to have wisdom and compassion. I understand our refugee program is not without error. I have many refugee friends. I understand the messiness of the system. It is not perfect. Because we are not perfect. We do not always live up to our intelligence potential, our common sense potential, our compassion potential, our desire to do the right thing potential. We do stupid things. We get it wrong. But we have a better chance of getting it right when we choose to love others more than ourselves.

I know the one place I can't go wrong is the place where Jesus is.  I can be weak, sinful, foolish, and even rebellious.  I can fail others, ruin ministries, fumble my work, and still, I cannot go wrong when I stand with fear and trembling, knowing only Jesus. Carl Medearis ~ Speaking of Jesus

You know what I am afraid of? I’m afraid of loving myself more than my neighbor. I’m afraid of loving my comfortable bed more than my neighbor in Syria. I’m afraid of loving my warm home more than I love my neighbor in Congo or Rwanda. I’m afraid of loving my morning coffee more than a desire to give my time away. I’m afraid of myself I guess.

Jesus didn’t come here and show us how to lead a comfortable, predictable life. He came here and had no home. He came here and loved the wrong people. He came here and was brutally killed. Because he loved us more than he loved himself.

I want to live his Way always.

And I am not afraid.

If you will trust God with your anguish it will birth something precious to you. It will birth something that you will not trade back. Beth Moore

I forget so easily that there’s a bigger picture. . . I forget that it’s all held together by a holy, loving God, and that we get to be his partners in restoration and healing. I forget that there’s more than I see. More than I dream. Shauna Niequist ~ Savor

Netflix and the Lost Month

My Netflix binging co-hort and favorite girl ever

Rebecca and I are just completing a Netflix binge that has lasted a month. We are addicted to the television series Parenthood. This is entirely Jen Hatmaker’s fault, and I take no responsibility at all for my actions. . . non-actions. I’m hopeful I can soon return to being a productive member of society, while Kevin is really just hoping to get his wife back. I also hope I remember how to read a book. One of my favorite things.

Last night Rebecca and I were watching an episode from season six. The matriarch of the family is counseling her youngest daughter (who has been separated from her husband for a year). She says these words, “Marriage is really all about forgiveness.” Rebecca turned to me and asked, “Is that true?” I responded, “Yes. And sometimes it sucks.”

I’m not always good at forgiveness. I want to be. I want forgiveness to be easy, but it just isn’t. Letting go of hurt is really hard. Recently, God asked me to forgive a friend who has hurt me. My reaction was not great. I was praying and asking God how he wanted me to move forward with this relationship. Being vulnerable – which is such a big part of forgiveness - is not my favorite thing, and my reaction to God’s request was, “Oh crap!” Yes, I believe in being real with God. If it makes you feel better, I went on to say other more “prayerful” words. Mostly, I asked God to make me brave, because I learned early in life that being vulnerable invites pain. And I have perfected the art of moving on, so my plan was just to move away from this relationship, to move away from the hurt. But God was asking me not to do that. He was asking me to stay in relationship with my friend. I wasn’t as excited about this idea as God was, and if He wanted me to be vulnerable with this person who hurt me, He would need to be in it with me.

“Forgiving someone who hurts us requires humility, imagination, and courage. We need the kind of humility that arises out of a deep understanding of our sin and a redemptive imagination that honestly faces where a person is and longs for where he might be. When our hearts deeply admit that our own sin is, at core, no less heinous in its direction than our enemy’s and when we taste the restorative grace of God, we grow in courage to wisely plan ways of destroying anything that mars beauty in the souls of others.” Bold Love, by Dan Allender & Tremper Longman III

I’m an introverted person, but I’m also a highly sensitive person. This is super fun. Except when it’s not. Being highly sensitive means I’m intuitive and empathic, which makes me a great caregiver and really good at helping others. It also means I’m sensitive to bright light, loud noises and strong smells - kind of like a dog. . . Yet even with those amazing dog-like skills, being highly sensitive is not an easy way to navigate childhood and those super fun middle school and high school years. I cannot tell you how many times I heard, “You’re too sensitive.” I knew it wasn’t meant as a positive. 

When God asked me to be vulnerable with my hurt and move back into relationship with my friend, I wrote these words in my prayer journal, "Jesus, you have done such big things in my life, it is ridiculous of me to focus on the little hurts. Pull me out of this way of being, of thinking. Help me sink into your love and goodness and soak you up."

When I hesitate to forgive it is because I have forgotten how much I have been forgiven. I forget the hugeness of what Christ has done for me. In me.

Being a follower of Jesus isn’t always easy. He asks hard things of us. He asks that I not be the center of my world. He asks that I let go of my selfish desires and let others go first. He asks that I forgive and not just one time. He asks that I forgive every single time someone hurts me. Following Jesus isn’t always easy, but it is good, because once I start following him for real and open the door to my heart, love floods in. Once I stop guarding my heart and holding myself back and let myself be open with others, even when I know I may get hurt, my life fills up with love - love that comes back to me. 

“When we embrace the possibility of forgiveness, we open the door for healing possibilities we would not have otherwise. Choosing the possibility of forgiveness gives us new possibilities for our life.” Unconditional? The Call of Jesus to Radical Forgiveness, by Brian Zahnd

During that month long binge of Parenthood, I didn’t accomplish much around my house and my desk is a mess, but I learned a great deal about loving people, about forgiveness, about the importance of relationships. It’s a great show. I found myself writing down quotes and recently used one with a young friend who is having a hard, sad time with a family member.

Following Jesus means forgiving those who hurt us. There are no ifs, no ands, no buts in that equation. Just forgiveness. Following Jesus means forgiving those who hurt us. End of story.

“. . . for if Christianity isn’t about forgiveness, it’s about nothing at all. Whatever else may be said about Christian people, it must be said of us that we are a people who believe in the forgiveness of sins - we believe in the forgiveness of sins as surely as we believe in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. . . to be an authentic follower of Christ we must embrace the centrality of forgiveness.” Unconditional? The Call of Jesus to Radical Forgiveness, by Brian Zahnd