Blog – Page 15

December 21, 2015

Baby Son

I am on a double countdown ’til Christmas this year. My new baby niece or nephew is due any day, and the two calendars are racing. Which will make its debut first? Baby Jesus’ birthday, or the birth day of this new baby?

When my sister was little, she prepared for Christmas like it was her job. She convinced Dad to cut down the tip-top of a pine tree from the woods to put in her room, and Mom helped her string lights from her ceiling. By mid-December, Meghan’s room was a full-blown Santa’s workshop. She’d haul up every craft supply she could find and post a note on the door, with dramatic underlines: “TOP SECRET! Keep out.” She’d spend every waking moment the final weeks before Christmas making all manner of glittery cut-out snowflakes and construction-paper ornaments for the whole family.

This year Meghan is doing a different kind of preparation as the days tick down. She’s getting a room ready for the baby. She’s packing a go-bag for the hospital. She’s making weekly treks to the doctor, checking to make sure the baby is in position. She’s prepping two-year-old Addie to be a big sister (including the possibility that, despite Addie’s adamancy that’s it’s a girl, there’s a chance she may be getting a brother).

There is so much we don’t know about this baby. Besides the gender, we don’t know what this child will look like, what kind of personality is tucked into that curled-up body, what this little one will become someday, or how the world needs this child, specifically. And yet our hearts are full of anticipation. So much longing, so much joy over this tiny person, veiled in so much mystery.

And it occurs to me that Mary must have felt much the same. It’s funny, isn’t it, that some of the biggest miracles come to us in such small packages? I wonder why God would come so tiny, so unobtrusive, when He could have come in pomp and circumstance.

In church last weekend my husband played the song “Baby Son” by John Mark McMillan, and I couldn’t help but think of the baby son (or daughter) my family is waiting to meet. So much future, so much hope, packed into seven pounds of flesh.

We thought you’d come with a crown of gold
A string of pearls and a cashmere robe
We thought you’d clench an iron fist
And rain like fire on the politics

Would I have missed Him that first Christmas, I wonder? Would I have been so busy looking for a flashier miracle that I would have overlooked the ordinary mother and her baby? Would I have deigned to believe that God’s plan to save the world could start with something so small?

But without a sword, no armored guard
But common born in mother’s arms
The government now rests upon
The shoulders of this baby son

A field of daffodils begins with a single bulb. An avalanche starts with a tiny snowflake. A classic novel starts with a solitary word. An epic love story starts with a simple greeting. A person begins as a tiny baby.

And the hope for the world began with someone so small you could hold Him in your arms.

God delights in the small things, the ordinary things, the unexpected things. I always thought that was so everything would be unveiled at the right time and so all the prophecies would be fulfilled just so. But now I think there’s another reason too: because God knows we can only handle so much miracle at once. If He gave us the full-blown itinerary, we would melt into a puddle. And so He births some of His most beautiful, magnificent plans as small beginnings.

Have you no room inside your heart
The inn is full, the out is dark
Upon profane shines sacred sun
Not ashamed to be one of us

So I’m spending this season in anticipation, alongside Mary and Meghan. I find myself waiting . . . waiting for Meghan’s baby son (or daughter). And waiting for God’s own Baby Son, who came once and will come again.

Our hearts are ready. We are longing for you. We have made room. Please come!

God’s coming is always unforeseen, I think, and the reason, if I had to guess, is that if he gave us anything much in the way of advance warning, more often than not we would have made ourselves scarce long before he got there.
~Frederick Buechner

December 18, 2015

Book Club Discussion: Wearing God

Thanks to everyone who read Wearing God by Lauren Winner. I’m looking forward to hearing what you thought of the book!

Here’s how it works: I’ll throw out a few topics for discussion, and you can write your responses about these topics (or anything else you’d like to say) in the comment section.

I have been a fan of Lauren Winner’s writing for years (I loved Girl Meets God, and I had the privilege of hearing her speak at The Festival of Faith and Writing several years ago). As someone who finds it hard to get my brain around something as big and mysterious and intangible as the nature of God, I am constantly seeking metaphors and analogies to piece together a truer understanding of him. I was excited to read Winner’s book about some of the more obscure or overlooked metaphors the Bible uses to describe God’s character.

Discussion #1: Images of God

Lauren Winner says that as a Christian community, we tend to overemphasize certain names/metaphors for God (Shepherd, King, Father) while overlooking others that would help give us a more fleshed-out picture of his character. She explores the idea of God as clothing, smell, bread and wine, a laboring woman, laughter, and fire, and unpacks these metaphors in striking ways.

I began to realize that my pictures of God were old. They were not old in the sense of antique champagne flutes, which are abundant with significance precisely because they are old. . . . Rather, they were old like a seventh-grade health textbook from 1963: moderately interesting for what it might say about culture and science in 1963, but generally out of date.

Do you agree that some of our images of God are old and worn out? Which image/metaphor of God do you resonate with most (either from this book or in general)?

Discussion #2: Scandalous Comparisons

I have to admit that some of the metaphors for God made me a little squeamish. Really, isn’t it a little undignified to picture the God of the universe as a pregnant woman agonizing in a birthing room? And isn’t it, well, indecorous to think of God wanting us to become drunk on him? But as I read, it occurred to me that that’s exactly the point. We tend to put God in a tidy little box so we can pin him down and understand him, but over and over the Bible blows our minds with how God is so far beyond our comprehension.

This is why Jesus is hymned not as grape juice but as wine: because He is dangerous and excessive.

Were there any images for God that didn’t sit well with you? Why or why not?

Discussion #3: Redefining Goodness

As I read this book, it occurred to me that one of the reasons we tend to shy away from certain metaphors about God is because they don’t seem to line up with our view of a good God. If God is fire, doesn’t that indicate he has the power to destroy as well as create? We are scared of this idea of an untamable God, so we stick to metaphors that we perceive as less threatening. But Winner gives us broader perspective, reminding us that while yes, God is good, that doesn’t mean we’ll never experience pain or hardship.

Maybe, if God is fire, we are a grove of ponderosa pines. Without the heat and burn of God’s flame, our pinecones would remain closed tight around the seeds that are needed for our thriving and growth and new life.

Have you ever seen God as fire in your life, not only bringing warmth but also purifying you?

Discussion #4: God as One Who Hides

One of the final descriptions the author offers of God is as one who hides. She quotes Isaiah as saying “You are a God who hides himself”—Deus absconditus.

Sometimes God hides. Sometimes what I might first name as God’s absence is in fact God’s hiding. In a sense, God hides amid all the many divine metaphors and similes that litter the scriptures. This is a God who conceals and reveals.

Have you ever experienced a season when it seems that God is hiding? How are you encouraged by this promise in Jeremiah: “When you search for me, you will find me”?

Discussion #5: Rating

I would give this book 4 stars out of 5. I don’t agree with all of the author’s theology, but I appreciate the way she tackles some intriguing (and often difficult) pictures of God. This book got me thinking about God’s character more deeply, and I found myself connecting with him in new ways as a result.

How many stars would you give this book?

Remember: There will a giveaway for a free book for one lucky commenter!

December 15, 2015

Praying Upside Down

I recently finished reading a book called Praying Upside Down by Kelly O’Dell Stanley. I tend to gravitate away from books about prayer, because in general the book I need most about prayer can be summed up in one short sentence: “Shut up and pray.” Truth be told, my biggest problem isn’t usually the nuances or the how-tos of prayer; more often it’s about flat-out Not Doing It.

But this book is an exception—it offers something fresh to the conversation about prayer. It isn’t theoretical; it’s a practical approach to prayer. And the author comes at the topic from an interesting perspective, tackling prayer as an artist. Kelly shows what white space, sketching, point of view, and other artistic concepts can teach us about prayer. For a non-artist like me, all of this was revelatory.

If your prayers are starting to feel stale, this book will help you get out of a rut. And if you’re finding it hard to pray right at all right now, this book will help you get unstuck.

One of the things I appreciate most about this book is how the author emphasizes the importance of gaining a new perspective when we’re praying. In art, if you’re not able to capture the piece you want to create, it’s probably time to move to a new position. And the same is true about prayer: If you find yourself unable to connect with God, it may be time to change positions and get a fresh perspective.

Kelly describes something she and a friend prayed about: “When we found a way to get unstuck, God answered. When we tried something new, we saw different results.” Case in point: if everything in your life is hard at the moment and it’s hard to talk to God about it, it may be time to step to the side and take a look at things from another angle.

If there’s a flood in your basement, that means you have a home . . . and a basement to thank God for.

If your house isn’t selling and you’re starting to get stressed about the timing, maybe it’s time to start praying for the person who will buy your house.

If you’re having trouble praying for a situation in your own life, offer to pray for a friend and ask them to pray for you.

Most of all, I appreciate the way Kelly reminds us that ultimately prayer isn’t about us; it’s about God. And he is more powerful and more caring than we typically give him credit for.

The effectiveness of our prayers doesn’t come down to how good our prayers are; it comes down to how good God is. As Kelly puts it, “Just because I had run out of things to do didn’t mean He had.”

***

Too often, we miss seeing God because we think His answer will look different than it does.
~Kelly O’Dell Stanley

October 29, 2015

Yellow Jacket Invasion, Part 2

[See Yellow Jacket Invasion Part 1 for the first part of this story.]

A month into our home ownership gig, it seemed like Daniel and I were losing: Calamities 2; Daniel and Stephanie Team 0. First there was the flood of epic proportions; now the yellow jackets. We were certainly learning a lot, and we were wrangling our house into a home, but we would be content to stop the plagues at two.

Meanwhile, I was grateful to be on the other side of the glass while the beekeeper worked his disappearing act on two hundred-some yellow jackets.

Daniel and I stood safely outside with our noses pressed to the window while our apian hero vacuumed up hundreds of the stinging little monsters and removed chunk after chunk of the yellow jacket nest. I’m pretty sure I counted to six football-sized pieces before I blacked out.

An hour or so into the removal process, I’d seen all I needed to see. Now that the initial shock had worn off, I was starting to get fidgety as the daylight ticked away and no progress was being made on my to-do list. Vacuum the carpet—nope, couldn’t do that right now. Clean the bathrooms—also an inside job. Shoot, even the to-do list was inside.

The only thing I could do was sit on the back porch. And sit.

Taking the Sting Out

We’d put up a hummingbird bird feeder the day before, but so far the birds had been a little skittish about dropping by. We’d seen a few of them take a sip, drive-thru style, but none of them had stopped to perch.

I admired the birds’ beauty and delicate wings, but it made me weary to see them flittering and skittering, never pausing to rest. Don’t you guys need to gear up for a super-long migration to Mexico? I asked them silently as they flitted by. We provided this rest stop just for you, with homemade food and everything. Don’t you want to stop and rest for a while?

And then the irony hit me with such force that I laughed at loud. “Okay, God, I get it.”

Ceasing Our Fluttering

It was the Sabbath, and I’d been flitting around like a little hummingbird all day long. Lots of motion . . . but for what?

God seemed to be telling me, not so subtly, that there was nothing else to do in that moment except sit rest. It was time to forget about my to-do list for a while and embrace the rest he was giving me (forcing on me?) on that sacred day. The vacuuming could wait. The to-do list could wait. For now, my job number one was to sit and enjoy the world he’d made. Hummingbirds and yellow jackets included.

In the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you.
—Leo Tolstoy

***

In case you’re wondering, the yellow jackets were all taken care of, and I didn’t see another one until the next morning, when Daniel donned his yellow cycling jersey (an odd choice for professional work attire, I thought). He kept looking at me expectantly after he got dressed, as if waiting for me to catch a punch line.

Finally it hit me: sure enough, it was another yellow jacket.

October 27, 2015

Yellow Jacket Invasion, Part 1

On a Sunday not long ago, I woke up with my mind buzzing, making a mental list of all the things I needed to do that day. We’d recently moved into our new home, and we were getting ready for six houseguests and a dozen or so dinner guests later that week.

This meant it was probably time to locate the floor of the guest bedroom, which had been strewn with all manner of Things I Don’t Know What to Do With since we moved.

But I had a deadline, and I was motivated. I’d vacuum, mop floors, scrub toilets, organize, unpack—nothing was going to stop me. I was pretty sure I would put Martha Stewart to shame.

The Best-Laid Plans of Critters and Women

Around 6 p.m., I was making some progress on my ambitious to-do list, if not as big of a dent as I’d hoped. That’s when I walked into the living room and heard a strange humming sound. I headed toward the corner where the noise seemed to be coming from . . . and promptly went into cardiac arrest.

The windows were covered with yellow jackets. ON THE INSIDE.

I looked up to see the tiniest hole in the ceiling where the devilish little creatures were filing into the living room, one after the other. It was like a horror movie, minus the popcorn.

At that point I did what every independent, self-sufficient modern woman does: I ran outside to find my husband.

Daniel looked at my face and immediately stopped what he was doing. “Are you okay?”

I nodded automatically. “Yes . . .”

And then it hit me: NO, I AM NOT OKAY. There are hundreds of large flying insects with stingers on them, and they are INSIDE OUR HOUSE. I will never sleep here again. On second thought, I may never sleep again, period.

Thankfully Daniel came up with a plan, because my brain couldn’t get past “GET OUT!” and “LOCK THE DOOR BEHIND YOU!”

Here was the plan: Daniel would scope out the situation in the living room and see if he could duct-tape over the yellow jackets’ Gateway to Paradise while I went online to look for the nearest beekeeper/environmentally friendly insect remover/who-am-I-kidding, someone to fumigate the entire zip code.

I made a beeline (sorry, couldn’t pass that one up) for the computer upstairs, slamming doors behind me and lying to myself that surely those flimsy slabs of wood would keep the critters out, despite the glaring fact that not even drywall could stop them.

Count Your Yellow Jackets; Name Them One by One

After about five phone calls to no avail (apparently it’s wise to schedule your bee-related emergencies for non-weekend hours), I finally got ahold of someone who was willing to leave his dinner on the table and come to our assistance. (There’s a teeny chance I sounded a little deranged by this point, so he might not have felt like he had much of a choice.)

The beekeeper arrived in his head-to-toe bee suit and confirmed our suspicions. “Yep, you’ve got yellow jackets. Probably two to three hundred in your house, and that’s a lowball.”

As I darted to the relative safety of the great outdoors, it occurred to me how quickly my priority list had been turned upside down. When my feet hit the ground that morning, my main concern had been having a sparkly-clean home for our guests, but now, suddenly, all I cared about was that it was bee-free.

Toilet scrubbing isn’t a bad thing, of course, but it can be if it becomes all-important. And I had to wonder: What else needs to shift in my priorities so I can keep the main things the main things? One thing was certain: God would go to great lengths to get my attention. And I had two hundred yellow jackets to prove it.

[Stay tuned tomorrow for the rest of the story!]

October 21, 2015

What a Two-Year-Old Taught Me about Running

I run on occasion, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m a runner. Truth be told, I’m probably more of a plodder. One foot in front of the other, slow and tortoise-like.

I’ve heard the term “runner’s high,” but so far the only high I’ve experienced comes after the run, when I eat the bowl of ice cream I promised myself as a reward.

So when I read this verse in Hebrews about running the race of faith, I have to say it doesn’t automatically instill inspiration in me:

Since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.
—Hebrews 12:1

When I think of spiritual running, I tend to conjure up images of plodding along in the life of faith, putting one foot in front of the other from now until glory-be.

I’m not usually feeling the spiritual runner’s high.

But a few weeks ago, when I went to my parents’ house for a family get-together, something changed my perspective on the kind of running God might be talking about.

As I pulled into my parents’ driveway, my almost-two-year-old niece was in the garden, “helping” pick cucumbers. The minute I got out of the car, Addie spied me and started waddle-running toward me as fast as her little legs could take her. Her arms swung haphazardly from side to side as she zigzagged across the yard.

When she was about halfway to me, she hit a dip in the grass. Bam! Down she went, toppling bum over heels. But she barely seemed to notice—she just got up and kept running.

When she got closer, I saw something that permanently melted my auntie-heart: An impish grin was spreading across Addie’s face, her trademark dimple indenting one cheek. And that smile was running toward me for a hug.

Addie wasn’t plodding. She wasn’t trudging along, forcing one foot in front the other. She was running out of sheer joy. She had her destination in mind, and nothing was going to stop her.

That’s how I want to run this race of faith. I don’t want to run out of duty or because it’s good for me. I want to run more like Addie.

I want to run with a heart that’s overflowing with joy, knowing I’m running toward someone I love, toward someone who loves me.

Even when the race is hard and the finish line seems impossibly far away, know this: God is waiting for you at the finish line, with his arms open wide.

Seek . . . to cultivate a buoyant, joyous sense of the crowded kindnesses of God in your daily life.
—Alexander Maclaren

October 16, 2015

Friday Favorites for October

Happy Friday, everyone! Here are some of my favorite things from the last few weeks. Enjoy!

For football fans who love books, or book fans who love football . . .

These NFL-inspired book covers are downright clever. Anyone else want to read Island of the Miami Dolphins? NFL Teams Reimagined as Novels

For anyone who’s still a kid at heart . . .

These timeless quotes from children’s books may have been intended for children, but perhaps we need them more as adults. Quotes from Children’s Books

For my fellow grammar geeks . . .

If you are the type who is passionate about your vs. you’re and its vs. it’s, I promise these grammar-inspired cartoons will crack you up. There’s even a tip about why you should never date an apostrophe. Things You’ll Only Find Funny if You’re a Grammar Nerd

For anyone in any relationship of any kind . . .

I had a chance to hear Brené Brown speak at a conference earlier this year, and I really appreciate the way she nails the personal and interpersonal ruts we get ourselves into. This article offers a simple phrase that can change the whole trajectory of a conversation. Brene Brown’s Biggest Life Hack

October 7, 2015

When God Interferes

I got a text from a friend the other day, giving me an update on something we’d been praying about. She meant to type “Because of God’s intervention . . .” but autocorrect stepped in and changed it to “Because of God’s interference.”

It made me laugh, as autocorrect tends to do, but then it occurred to me that there’s some truth in this typo. Isn’t that how I see God sometimes?

I present him with what I’m sure is the perfect plan, the ideal solution to a problem, the surefire answer to my prayer. And then I wait for things to unfold exactly as I’ve drawn them up.

Only it rarely happens this way. God interferes with my plans.

Here’s just a small sampling:

Ten years ago . . . I just knew Guy X was “the one” for me. I told God all the reasons this relationship was meant to be. But God interfered. The wedding bells were silent.

Two years ago . . . My husband (not Guy X!) applied for a job that seemed just right for him—a position he was perfectly qualified for and where he had a personal connection. But God interfered. Daniel didn’t get the job.

Two months ago . . . Daniel and I found a house we had our hearts set on, and we made an offer the next day. But just before the papers were signed, another buyer whisked in. God interfered. We were back to square one at Realtor.com.

In each scenario, I found myself miffed by God’s interference. If only he’d listened to me, surely things would have worked out perfectly!

But with enough space and time and perspective, I can often look back and see what I couldn’t see in the moment. And when I do, I thank God for interfering.

If things had worked out with Guy X, I never would have met Daniel, who is clearly the man God had in mind for me all along. Thank you, God for interfering.

And that job Daniel applied for a couple of years ago? The organization has since completely closed its doors. Thank you, God for interfering.

As for the house we didn’t get, that loss allowed us to find our home—the one that’s just right for us. Thank you, God for interfering.

And those are just the cases where I can get a glimpse of what God is up to behind the scenes. If only I could pull back the veil between heaven and earth, I’d see that he’s orchestrating so many things for good—and that his definition of good far surpasses what I can grasp.

So here’s what I want to remember the next time God interferes: His interference doesn’t mean he isn’t listening or he isn’t able to step in. It’s his way of saying, “Oh child, hold on. I can see things so much more clearly than you can. Do you trust me?”

Because sometimes God’s interference means he’s too kind to give us what we ask for.

Circumstances may appear to wreck our lives and God’s plans, but God is not helpless among the ruins.
—Eric Liddell

***

Your turn . . .

Has God ever interfered with your plans? What happened? I’d love to hear your story.

September 30, 2015

Announcing the Book Club for November . . .

Thanks to everyone who participated in our discussion about The Girl on the Train. I enjoyed everyone’s comments about strong/flawed characters, fast-paced plots, and literary train wrecks. Congratulations to Sara, the winner of the book giveaway (number generated by random.org). Sara, I’ll send you a separate message about getting the book to you.

Our next book discussion in November will be . . .

Wearing God by Lauren Winner

Here’s the description from the publisher’s website:

Lauren F. Winner—a leading writer at the crossroads of culture and spirituality and author of Still and Girl Meets God—joins the ranks of luminaries such as Anne Lamott and Barbara Brown Taylor with this exploration of little known—and, so, little used—biblical metaphors for God, metaphors which can open new doorways for our lives and spiritualities.

There are hundreds of metaphors for God, but the church only uses a few familiar images: creator, judge, savior, father. In Wearing God, Lauren Winner gathers a number of lesser-known tropes, reflecting on how they work biblically and culturally, and reveals how they can deepen our spiritual lives.

Exploring the notion of God as clothing, Winner reflects on how we are “clothed with Christ” or how “God fits us like a garment.” She then analyzes how clothing functions culturally to shape our ideals and identify our community, and ruminates on how this new metaphor can function to create new possibilities for our lives. For each biblical metaphor—God as the vine/vintner who animates life; the lactation consultant; and the comedian, showing us our follies, for example—Winner surveys the historical, literary, and cultural landscapes in order to revive and heal our souls.

Hope you can join us! Remember, there is a free book giveaway each time!

September 25, 2015

Book Discussion: The Girl on the Train

Thanks for participating in our virtual book discussion! This month we’re talking about The Girl on the Train.

Here’s how it works: I’ll throw out a few topics for discussion, and you can write your responses about these topics (or anything else you’d like to say) in the comment section.

***

This isn’t the type of book I typically enjoy, but it has been buzzing all over the internet for months, and I finally caved, if only to see what all the hubbub was about. The story follows Rachel, who takes a commuter train each morning and watches a seemingly perfect couple eating breakfast on their deck. Her own life, meanwhile, is a train wreck (sorry for the bad pun!). Then tragedy strikes the couple, and Rachel finds herself deeply entangled in the case.

Discussion #1: The Characters

My struggle with this book was that although the characters were well drawn, I didn’t like any of them. I did feel sorry for Rachel, but mostly I just cringed as she continued to drink and send irretrievable e-mails to Tom and generally dig herself deeper into a pit. And that’s to say nothing of the other characters, who were pretty much all liars and backstabbers.

What about you? Did you find any of the characters likable? What did you think of Rachel as a main character?

Discussion #2: Suspense Factor

Despite not liking the characters, I have to admit that, as Paula Hawkins’s publisher Sarah McGrath says, this is “a very propulsive read.” The mystery unfolds in such a jarring yet compelling way that I had no choice but to keep reading. Rachel’s blackouts add to the suspense, making it difficult to discern what is true, and her unreliable memories and self-doubt leave us questioning what her role really was. I liked the way the author wove in three different narrators to tell the story to heighten the suspense and to force us to piece it all together.

Did the story keep your attention? Do you tend to like suspense as a genre?

Discussion #3: The Role of Women

It’s interesting that this story revolves around several women competing over a man, but in the end, it’s the women who take justice into their hands for a satisfying (if somewhat contrived and gruesome) finale. The author doesn’t delve deeply into gender roles, but she does touch on them, such as when Rachel says, “Let’s be honest: women are still only really valued for two things—their looks and their roles as mothers. I’m not beautiful, and I can’t have kids, so what does that make me? Worthless.”

What did you think of the women portrayed in this book? Were they strong or seriously flawed, or both?

Discussion #4: Rating

I kept hearing this book compared to Gone Girl, and while there were some similarities (like the alternating points of view and an unreliable narrator), I thought Gone Girl pulled off these effects better than The Girl on the Train.

As much as I was sucked in by the suspense of the story, it was painful to read about so much deception, and I’m not sure the payoff was worth it for me. I’d give the book 2 stars (out of five).