Submission is not a four-letter word

My husband and I are in a small Bible study, and together, our group has been working our way through Ephesians. This week we studied Ephesians 5, which contains the often misinterpreted submission verses. You know..."Wives submit yourselves to your own husbands..." (Eph. 5:22*).

I've heard more than one sermon in which pastors have encouraged men to quite literally rule over their wives. I've heard many evangelical men joke about "wives knowing their places" using Eph. 5:22 as the punchline thus turning the word 'submit' into a four-letter word for many women. But...I think those pastors and men got it all wrong.

This woman appears to be unhappy. Maybe she just heard a sermon about Eph. 5:22 where the pastor gave her husband permission to be a jackwagon and silence her. ..

Becoming Un-Busy

I read a thoughtful post last week called “The Disease of Being Busy” by Omed Safi, a columnist for On Being.  It was an older post but is one that still rings true today.

We are so, so busy, aren’t we? Americans like to do all the things. We pack our schedules full and then lament our 16-hour work days. Safi mentions that we are now doing this to our kids, too. We shuttle our third graders to painting class and basketball and gymnastics and dance; we have so many activities for them that we need planners just to keep track of our kids’ schedules. We rely on busy as Americans. But, as Safi mentions,

“This disease of being ‘busy’ (and let’s call it what it is, the dis-ease of being busy, when we are never at ease) is spiritually destructive to our health and wellbeing. It saps our ability to be fully present with those we love the most in our families, and keeps us from forming the kind of community that we all so desperately crave.”

This busyness is a gross habit, and I have lots of questions about it. I wonder what our busyness says about our own insecurities. I wonder what it says about our inability to just be. I wonder what it says about how we find our purpose. I wonder what it will do to our children…

An empty to-do list?! Who does that?!

When praying is not enough

There are a few Christian platitudes of which I am simply tired:

• #blessed (Especially when it's used after something superficial like finding a good deal in the clearance section at Target.)
• God never gives you more than you can handle (Just...no....this is steeped in wrong theology. God DOES give us more than we can handle. Remember the thorn in Paul's side?)
• I will pray for you

For the record: I'm guilty of using all of these at one point in my life...especially the last one. It's not a bad thing to pray for people in times of distress. As we see in the gospels, Jesus himself prayed during times of distress. However, do you know what he did more frequently? He acted.


I'm slowly moving my way through the book of Matthew, and my biggest takeaway is how frequently Jesus was compelled to act. He healed people, fed people, trained people for ministry, called out religious zealots, turned over tables, raised people from the dead. There are more instances of Jesus acting in the book of Matthew than there are of Jesus praying. Matthew 9:36-38 reads,

"When he [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, 'The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.'"

Jesus was moved to compassion by people on the fringes--compassion that resulted in both prayer and action. I fear we're missing this as a collective body of Christians. When I pause to think about how many times I've promised prayer to a person without any sort of accompanying action to lighten his/her burden, I'm quite ashamed. I think there's a few reasons for my inaction, but the main might be that I have not allowed myself to be moved by compassion often enough.

Why we left our comfortable church

Recently my husband and I made a difficult decision to leave the church we had been attending. We chose this church when we moved to our community two years ago  because it had excellent youth ministries, was close to our home, and it seemed to be growing. My husband and I took steps to get involved. Our kids were learning and forming relationships with adults who seemed to genuinely care for them. Of course, no church is perfect, but overall--we were comfortable in our church.

But...comfort was ultimately the problem.

Church services were carefully crafted with cool sets and timed with snappy videos. There was a light show and artificial smoke as a backdrop to pop-worship music. The church was recently renovated with a mixture of wood and steel giving the building a cool, industrial vibe. The pastor had catchy sermon titles with three predictable and mainstream points. There was a coffee shop outside the sanctuary.

Rock concert or evangelical worship set? 

It was all a very tidy, aesthetically pleasing, and comforting experience. There is nothing inherently wrong with aesthetics, and many people thrive in church settings like this one. However, for me, church began to reaffirm my white middle class existence and felt too much like American culture.

Pulling up a seat in the smoking section

Parents are responsible for their kids. A kid's behaviors often reflect their home lives. The kid must've learned these behaviors at home. 

I've heard these claims spoken by daycare providers, teachers, parents, and (gasp) these are beliefs I once held. ...Then I became a parent to two kids who experienced physical and psychological trauma during pivotal developmental years.

Suddenly, these statements no longer felt true. Even though my kids have been adopted for three and almost two years, they still struggle (and will always struggle) with trauma. Often they still feel threatened in situations that an outsider would not perceive as threatening. Sometimes they still eat as if food may not grace our dinner table again. Many times they still melt down when they receive even the tiniest of consequences. Are these behaviors a reflection of our home lives? I don't think so. Our home is far from perfect, but generally speaking, my husband and I work hard to maintain a consistent and loving home where curiosity is encouraged, mistakes can be learned from, a home where our kids can be kids with room to play and explore. We try to help our kids identify big feelings, and we give them tools to help them work through these. But, as is the habit of trauma, sometimes our kids' pasts seep through the cracks in their lives that we have desperately tried to repair.

Yesterday, my phone rang at 10:30 AM; it was my kids' principal. She replayed an outburst my son had in his classroom; he was unable to be redirected and had to spend the rest of the morning in the principal's office. I hung up the phone feeling overwhelmed and mortified about my son's behaviors. In fact, my first response was to email J's teacher to apologize for his behaviors. I spent the rest of the day beneath a dark cloud of shame.

Not a real cloud of shame, but it's pretty damn close. 

My brain knows that J's outburst was likely from a perceived threat and not an act of defiance, but I couldn't convince my heart and gut to agree with my brain. I felt responsible for my son's behavior. I wasn't home enough, I yell too much, I don't hug him enough. I worried about what the teacher thought of our home life, what J's classmates would tell their parents about the scenario, and what those parents would think of us. I was in a downward spiral of shame when I finally texted one of my best friends who also is a foster-adoptive mama and is familiar with parenting kids from hard places. I asked her when I would stop feeling so ashamed for my kids' behaviors. My friend is wise and kind and calm. She talked to me about losing my reputation to reach others...she reminded me that my reputation is eternal, and directed me to a sermon she recently heard on Luke 15: Love Can Unbind Us from Pastor Myron Pierce. 

Why I don't choose joy in tough situations

It's been a good while since I've written anything here. In my defense, I had a post due for another site that I procrastinated like a good writer does, and it left me zapped. Actually, winter has a way of dragging me down. It's dark and cold and keeps people indoors; it drives an active, outdoorsy person like me a bit bananas. On top of this, our dog died, our kitchen appliances went on strike, and my husband's work schedule feels relentless. I've found myself wallowing in the muck this winter, trying to climb out but slipping each time I get a strong footing.

What a sad sight. 

Currently, I'm reading Tish Harrison Warren's Liturgy of the Ordinary, and it's been so thought-provoking. Essentially, the book is about embracing the ordinary moments in our lives and finding God in something as mundane as brushing our teeth. Chapter four explores the everyday moments of chaos that we encounter and encourages readers to view these as opportunities to see how much grace we need. Harrison Warren writes about the conundrum of finding more peace while she lived in a conflict zone than while living in her safe, middle-class life in the States:

"I had a theology of suffering that allowed me to pay attention in crisis, to seek small flickers of mercy in profound darkness. But my theology was too big to touch a typical day in my life. I'd developed the habit of ignoring God in the midst of the daily grind" (55). 

I can relate. It's easy for me to see glimmers of God at work in big, chaotic situations--especially when they're not directly impacting me. But when my dog dies and all my appliances quit and it's cold and my husband is gone on the weekends---I don't see glimmers of God. Instead, I see endless chaos. This begs the question: how do we see God in the everyday chaos?

Book review: Jesus Feminist

It took me a month, but I finally finished Jesus Feminist by Sarah Bessey. I should add that I'm a SLOW reader, especially when it comes to deeply philosophical texts, and this book was dense. To me, a good book does one of two things: advances my thinking or makes me forget where I am. Jesus Feminist didn't make me lose track of time and forget where I was, but my 'ole wheels were a-turning throughout the book. Specifically, I learned a lot in the areas of studying scripture and a woman's "role" in the church.

Speaking the truth in love...even in the middle of a dumpster fire

Note: The pronouns 'we' and 'us' are used in reference to a collective body of folks who believe in Jesus. However, I do believe that parts of this post can be relevant to those outside the Christian faith.

A few days ago, a friend sent me a message; in it she wrote, "I don't know how to have faith anymore. I feel so angry at and hurt by religion and followers of it right now. I don't know how to reconcile my feelings and find a way to differentiate the Truth from what I feel drowned by."

I have a hunch that my friend isn't the only one who feels this way. 2016 has been a great big dumpster fire leaving many feeling exhausted, weepy, hoarse from screaming, and paralyzed. In this hell of a year, I've seen church-going, Jesus-loving people lose their cool and spew hateful words all in the name of trying to "spread truth." Speaking truth is one thing, but I tend to believe that truth should always be shared with love. But, what does this all mean?

In Defense of Jen Hatmaker

If you're a Jen Hatmaker fan, you've likely read (or read about) the interview she did with Religion News Service. Maybe you've even stumbled upon a response to it from super-conservative writers like Matt Walsh. You might know that my girl, Jen, has been ripped to shreds by many Christians. I certainly have some questions for Hatmaker, but I'm not saddened by her response like so many others are. Actually, I'm more saddened by the way Christians have reacted to her interview.

Social media fast: Update #1

It has been 11 days....11 treacherous days without social media. Here's what I'm learning:

FOMO is more than a stupid acronym. It's REAL. SO REAL!!!! I texted a friend on day two and told her that I felt so out of touch with reality. She replied, "See the interesting thing is that you are more in the real world now..." I wanted to tell my friend to go to hell for being so wise. I wanted to tell her that the real world sucks...it's boring. I want the virtual world full of funny memes and entertaining stories. Honestly, I'm struggling to get my brain accustomed to more "silence." When I kicked myself off Facebook and Twitter, I shoved aside a constantly updated news feed of what my friends were up to, headlines from NPR and The Atlantic, articles from the many parenting blogs I follow, and lots of other worthless crap. On day five my husband asked me if I heard about Trump's latest crazy comment, and I realized that I hadn't read a single piece of news in five days. Because I'm also on my summer vacation, I'm not getting my two hour a day NPR fix during my commute to work. I had no idea what was going on in politics, world news, or state news. Apparently the Olympics has started.....I was a few days late to that party.

New habits to cut down on excess

Like I mentioned in another post, I'm typically wary of things labeled Christian. I'm even wary sometimes of the church. But Jen Hatmaker's book, Seven: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, was strangely refreshing; it was the antidote for my cynical heart. Basically, Jen chose 7 areas (clothes, spending, waste, food, possessions, media, stress) with which to practice simplicity. Each month was devoted to a new focus, and for those 30 or 31 days, she practiced simplicity by either completely cutting out that aspect (for example, social media/TV/radio) or limiting herself to seven things within that aspect (for the clothing month, she chose only 7 items of clothing to wear for the full month). The book takes readers through each month via her journals throughout the process and what she learns on her quest to cut excess. Hint: She learns a lot...and so did I.

Trading self-doubt for courage

I hear people say things like, You are the right mother for your kids. While I want to believe them, somewhere deep within--from a dark spot in my soul I call BS on this line (Side bar: my kids think BS stands for babysitter!). When I find myself cradling my thrashing daughter who is screaming that she hates us, the sentiment You are the right mother for your kids feels cliche and sarcastic.

Since I became a parent via foster-adopt I've gone through the ringer of self-doubt. Every opportunity I missed, every tantrum from one of my kids, every time I make a mistake (so, daily...) feeds the belief that I am not the right mother for my kids. 

If only they had someone who was more patient, stronger, less sarcastic, more motherly--then they'd be better off, I think.

Donald Trump, Transgender Issues, and Jesus

Author's note: I may lose some followers over this post. Also: I'm not a theologian. I'm a sinner...and a Jesus-lover. I've included lots of Bible verses throughout the post for reference--please know that the Bible should be read and studied in context, so if you're going to read through the verses I've included, read what surrounds the verses to get a bigger picture. Finally, please try and get through the whole post before you dismiss it as garbage :) 

If you haven't noticed, there are some significant cultural shifts occurring in our country that are difficult to ignore. This election season has been incredibly detrimental to our country for many reasons, and the results of it could be even worse. To me, one of the most frightening effects of this election season has been the rise of Donald Trump and the respect he has somehow garnered for his knack for cutting others down and calling it "abandoning politically correct behavior." A large portion of our culture (including, sadly, Christians) has embraced the Trump-Way and have used it to propel their own hate-filled language professing that "it's about time we have someone who isn't afraid to tell it like it is."

What I've learned throughout (almost) 10 years of marriage

On July 29th, my husband and I will celebrate 10 years of marriage...10 YEARS, PEOPLE!

We were so young....

This is cause for celebration because marriage is so. damn. hard. Can I get an Amen up in 'her?!? I got married as a newly-minted 20 year old--straight outta my teen years--and while I've always been a bit of an old soul, I learned to be an adult during my earliest years of marriage. Here are just a few things I've learned as a married gal:

Opportunities, Jesus, and a hundred What-Ifs

A year ago we were living in Omaha; my husband was the choir director at a huge school, and I had just left my full-time career teaching high school English. We were adjusting to being a family of four with two special needs kiddos from foster care that required more of our time and energy then we thought. On top of this, we were facing uncertainty about our careers and whether or not we should stay in Omaha. Fast forward a year later and we are living in my husband's hometown, three houses from a cornfield in an area where, on a clear night, the stars are penetrating and the silence is noteworthy. I am working part-time, and my husband is teaching middle school music where his only outside of school commitments are a two-month show choir season and only two concerts a year..which seems like he's working part-time compared to all of his previous teaching gigs. Our schedules are more free and flexible than they ever have been before. And during one of my quiet reflection moments a few months ago, I reflected on all of this and felt like we were suddenly in a season of opportunity. 

Not my arms. Not my Bible. 

Immediately, I begged God to spare me from opportunities that required me to be social because I am AWKWARD and introverted.

Church, liturgy, and the examen

Rosaries, casting out demons, the Apostle's Creed, and worship music with lights and smoke---that's my faith background. I was raised Catholic and attended a Catholic elementary school. In high school I became sort of enthralled with Buddhism; I wasn't a practicing Buddhist or anything, but I read lots about it. My biological father is also a pastor of a Pentecostal church. My husband was raised Lutheran, and we were married in a Lutheran church. Eventually my husband and I landed in an evangelical church.

Like most aspects of my life right now, I'm even in a transition phase with my faith. My view of God hasn't changed, but I'm feeling a pull towards a more traditional, liturgical church service. I miss saying the Lord's Prayer as a church body. I miss the reverence of an entire congregation standing up when the word of God is read aloud. I miss hymns--their purity, their harmonies. I miss a simple worship set void of lights and fog machines. I miss intellectual sermons centered clearly around God's word that don't rely on a video to introduce the message. At one time in my life I preferred the modern evangelical church and all of it's fixings, but I don't anymore. I'm tired of the frills, of the smoke and mirrors, and all the distractions. I want Jesus, and so much of the way modern evangelical church is structured and presented takes my focus away from Jesus. I've done some researching lately to discover a church that my husband and I can be on board with theologically and liturgically, and we just haven't been able to find one (if y'all have suggestions, feel free to shoot them my way!). So....this has led me to find ways to incorporate more focused habits into my spiritual life to draw closer to God. The one habit that has seemed to be the most fruitful is a daily examen.

My examen...complete with super cool bookmark. 

I knew nothing about the examen (I'm still not sure if I can pluralize it or if I have to maintain the article 'the' prior to it....gah!) prior to this school year. I stumbled upon this blog post one afternoon, and I was intrigued, so I did more research and learned that basically the examen is a practice of incorporating focused, reflective prayer into your day to connect with God in the day to day practice of your life. The theory is that God has ordained all things, and even reflecting on the most ordinary day can lead us to see how and where God is working in our lives. Here's a link with more detailed, historical information regarding the examen. I started using the Abide app on my phone to shake up my prayer life--there's been a few times this year where I just needed someone to pray for me, so the app allows me to select my prayer needs/topics and then hear a prayer read (with scripture references). It's a great way to focus my heart and allows me to pray even when I feel too weak, too vulnerable, or too stained to pray. The Abide app has a daily examen prayer that will walk you through a reflection of your day. I find it to be relaxing and reflective and an excellent way for me to sink deep into God--to be focused on seeing the ways He has worked throughout my day. My goal during Lent is to write down three ways I noticed God work in my day (either that day or the next morning). I'm excited to see where this takes my prayer life and my relationship with God--it can't hurt, right?!

Determination isn't enough

"See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are [...]" (1 John 3:1). 

I had lunch with an old college friend last week, and she bravely shared about an awesome transformation in her life. She explained how God revealed the sin of pride within her heart and showed her humility instead. My friend talked about the difficulty in this, how she had to remember that her worth does not come from her success in her career, her parenting, or even in how she loves her husband; her identity comes from Christ and being adopted into God's family through Christ.

I don't think my friend realizes how important it was for me to hear this. The last year has been an intense struggle as I wrestle with parenting two high-needs kids, adjust to a change in my career's trajectory, and prepare to turn....(gulp)....thirty. I feel like I'm constantly shuffling my way through a dark room, feeling my way through, bumping my shins on sharp corners and swearing at the pain, my body tense from not knowing what is in front of me. I've felt inadequate in every aspect of my life this year. You see, I'm a stubborn fool because, dammit...I'm strong like my mother and my grandmother. If I were a pioneer, I'd kick the Oregon Trail's ass, and I'd build a bitchin' house out of sod because that's how determined I am. But I'm learning that determination apart from Christ is futile because despite my pioneer-like determination, I'm still drowning, clawing for air and clarity and direction. Lots of folks in the Bible tried doing things on their own, and quite honestly they sucked at it, too.

I think this desire to do things on our own stems from lots of things, but what I've been thinking about  lately is our culture's belief about a child's relationship with/to his/her parents. At a certain age, the child moves out of his/her parents' house and ventures into the world to navigate it with minimal intervention from the parents. We learn that we must become self-sufficient to survive; we learn that it's responsible to take care of ourselves. And these are all true statements, in a sense. In the Evangelical world, we call God our Father--and we think of Him like a dad (see the verse above). What's happened with me, is that I believe God is my heavenly father, but I'm engaging in a relationship with him like he's my earthly father. I love my dad, and I can count on him to help me out if I really need it--but because I'm a grown-up, I take care of my problems on my own with little intervention from him and my mom---because that's adulting. But applying this view to God is just absurd. God called things into being--the heavens, the sky, the earth, and us...he spoke and things were made. My earthly dad, no matter how awesome he may be, cannot call things into being. He cannot yell: FLOOD! and cause the whole earth to be covered in water.

Image source

To avoid more rambling tangents and expletives, I'll wrap this up: I'm trying to adult too much with God. Like my friend, I want to remember whose I am. I want to be reliant on Him like an infant depends on her mother. Our God who created the earth and the mountains and cats and Girl Scout cookies...He spoke us into being...he calls us HIS children. I am tough and strong and those are valuable and important qualities, but they aren't enough to get me through this life and they don't define me (neither does my job or my career or my marriage). What should define me is that I am a daughter of God---who chose me (Ephesians 1:5).

Distraction of Being Understood

The other day I had to carry my seven-year-old son into school mid-tantrum; it became clear to me that he was engaging in a power struggle--he didn't want to go to school; he wanted to stay home and play with toys. I had to make a choice in that moment: I could allow him to continue tantruming safely in the car away from the eyes of others or I could take him into school mid-tantrum because it was time to go to school. I've tried keeping him in the car until he is calm, and while it allows us some privacy, it allows him the freedom to continue tantruming for however long he wants. So I pulled him from the car--kicking and crying--and in all of my nasty, pre-run, pre-shower glory, I carried him into school, sat him down in the front office, and waited for him to be calm while I bore the stares from strangers wondering what the heck I was doing. Needless to say, I've been a hot mess of vulnerability lately. Later that day I texted a good friend and fellow foster-adoptive momma and explained that I felt stuck on an island as a parent--especially as a parent of children with special needs that are not physically obvious. I told her that I just wanted someone to understand my parenting situation, my choices, and my vulnerability. She replied with an empathetic text that ended with, "Unfortunately we don't serve a God who wants us to be understood but to obey."

Her text reminded me of a devotion by Oswald Chambers I read a few weeks titled, "The Distraction of Contempt." The focus of the devotion was Mark 4:19, and in the discussion, Chambers quotes St. Augustine, "'O Lord, deliver me from this lust of always vindicating myself.'" Chambers goes on to explain that we should abandon our constant need to get others to understand us; while Jesus taught others about the truth of Himself and spoke out against wrong religion, he simply didn't correct misunderstandings of his words.

I did some quiet study and reflecting this morning on all of this, and if I'm being honest with myself, my friend's words and the devotion are in direct conflict with where my heart is right now. I have a serious desire to be understood by others--especially in my parenting choices, and I have a feeling that I'm not the only one. We were created to feel and to connect and to live in community with others, and a necessary component of meaningful relationships is that each person connects with the other and tries to understand how the other is feeling. So perhaps our need to be understood comes from the fact that we were meant to engage with others on a meaningful level. The question of the hour, though, is: When do we move from simply engaging in relationships with others to a “lust of always vindicating ourselves”? The more I think about this quandary, the more I'm realizing that a line is crossed when our motive for needing others to understand us is selfish in nature.

Like my friend’s reminder, God wants us to obey Him even when we are misunderstood in this obedience. Oswald Chambers writes, "Our state of mind is powerful in its effects. It can be the enemy that penetrates right into our soul and distracts our mind from God" (My Utmost for His Highest). When I focus on being understood by others, I am often focusing more on myself which distracts me from a deeper fellowship with my creator. God laid foster to adopt on our hearts nearly four years ago, and we acted out of obedience to him (although we were hesitant and scared and still grieving the thought of never having biological children). In obedience, I will be a parent, which requires me to advocate for my children and try to set them up for success. I’m learning, though, that being a parent doesn’t require me to constantly be understood. Like St. Augustine, my prayer this week is, “O Lord, deliver me from this lust of always vindicating myself,” so I can remove my eyes from me and direct them upward.

Not my own

"I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me..." (Galatians 2:20) 

My quiet time this morning was centered around this idea of submitting entirely to the will of God.

Acts 2: 42-47

About a year ago, Nate and I found our way to a new church we're glad to call home here in Omaha. Since being a part of CityLight, we've been challenged and encouraged to grow.