Online Book Club: Liturgy of the Ordinary

August 21, 2018

Online Book Club: Liturgy of the Ordinary

Did you read reading Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren? If so, you are invited to join the conversation!

Here’s how the online book club works: Just read the book at your own convenience, and then add your thoughts to the comments section. You can respond to any of these discussion questions—or just say what you thought of the book.

As a bonus, I’ll give away a free book to one lucky commenter!

I received this book as a gift when my son was just a few weeks old, and as it turned out, it was perfect for someone whose pace of life had just altered drastically. I had made an abrupt shift from days full of working and writing and serving and getting together with friends to days where the potential highlight was taking a shower.

For someone who is a big fan of crossing things off a to-do list, it quickly became clear that I needed to redefine what it looked like to follow Jesus when large swaths of my time were spent changing diapers, feeding a baby, and deciding how much spit-up on my shirt necessitated a clothing change. This book spoke into some of my biggest questions and wrestlings in that moment.

Discussion #1: Changing the World

Everywhere we look, someone seems to be changing the world. Someone is planting crops using sustainable agricultural practices; someone is rescuing women from sex trafficking; someone is helping small business owners in Kenya. This is all really good news, but sometimes it feels like a lot of pressure for a person whose main task for this season is to keep a small human being alive.

The book made me ponder this question: What if God is primarily calling us to ordinary, everyday faithfulness, not some kind of heroic Christianity? Yes, there are times when he asks us to big things for him, but truth be told, even most of those heroic things consist of a series of small acts of obedience.

“God is forming us into a new people. And the place of that formation is in the small moments of today.”

Do you ever struggle with the mundane moments of life, wishing you could do something grander? How would it shift your perspective to know that God is using our small, everyday tasks to make us into the people he wants us to be?

Discussion #2: The Divine in the Ordinary

I appreciated Tish Harrison Warren’s perspective that there is no distinction between the sacred and the secular, as we often imagine. We tend to compartmentalize the spiritual part of our lives, and we fret when it gets squeezed by other urgent things.

This book reminds us that we don’t have to wait for set-aside moments to connect with God; we can meet him in the ordinary moments, like sitting in traffic, thanking him for our leftovers, or talking with a friend.

“Small bits of our day are profoundly meaningful because they are the site of our worship. The crucible of our formation is in the monotony of our daily routines.”

In what ordinary moments do you tend to connect with God? In what ordinary moments would you like to be more aware of his presence?

Discussion #3: Learning to Be Beloved

One of my favorite chapters is chapter 1, about learning our identity as God’s beloved. When we can grasp that reality, it frames the entire liturgy of our days. We can better recognize and bask in God’s presence in the small moments when we remember that we belong to him and that he delights in us.

“We are marked from our first waking moment by an identity that is given to us by grace: an identity that is deeper and more real than any other identity we will don that day.”

What was your favorite chapter? Was there any story or topic that particularly resonated with you?

Rating: How many stars would you give this book (out of 5)?

I would give this book five stars, in part because it was the right book at the right time. I appreciated the way the author organized the book over the course of a day. It sounds like a simple premise, but the thoughts contained in each chapter are profound, and beautifully written.

I appreciated the reminder that the little things matter. And incidentally, when those ordinary moments are stacked one upon the other, they will end up changing the world—and us.

How many stars would you give this book?

March 9, 2018

Better than Perfect

Before I became a mom, during those months of fitfully pregnant sleep, I had recurring dreams that I was bombing mommyhood. I dreamed that I forgot I had a baby and left the child alone somewhere. I dreamed that the baby arrived early and I didn’t have any gear. I dreamed that the baby came out talking and I was so surprised that I never managed to say anything back.

You don’t have to be Freud to figure out what was going on there (HELLO, subconscious). Even during my waking hours, I wondered, What if my baby can sense that I don’t know what I’m doing? What if my baby prefers other moms to me? What if I fail at the most important job I’ve ever had?

It wasn’t until Graham was born that I learned something revolutionary: I might not be the best mom. But I am Graham’s mom. He connects with me not because I rise above the other moms in the lineup or because I’ve passed some kind of motherhood test, but simply because we belong to each other. He is mine, and I am his.

It occurs to me that this is true in every other arena of life too. We don’t have to be perfect to be the perfect person for the job. God calls us and equips us for what he wants us to do right here, right now—and he’s not sizing us up against anyone else.

Perhaps more than any previous generation, we are hounded by the monster of comparison. Our grandmothers might have compared their kids’ birthday parties to the ones thrown by the five other moms in bridge club, but they weren’t stacking themselves up against the entire world wide web.

Everywhere we look, we are faced with the shiny images of someone who is doing it better or prettier or more organically. It’s enough to make a mere mortal (especially those of us with perfectionistic inclinations) want to throw in the towel altogether.

But that’s not how God’s calling works. He doesn’t line us up and then choose only the ones with the top rankings. He gives each of us exactly what we need to do this job, in this moment. With these people, with these gifts.

Has God called you to create? You don’t have to be better than everyone on Pinterest; you just have to create.

Has God called you to study or write or make dinner? You don’t have to be the best student or writer or chef the world has seen; you just have to do the thing you’ve been wired to do.

Has God called you to be a daughter or an employee or an aunt or a teacher or a mentor? You don’t have to measure up to everyone else; you just have to carry out your role with the grace you get each day.

To my surprise, Graham seems to accept me as his mom, no questions asked. And so this little 16-pound person is teaching me that I don’t have to be the best mom. I just have to be his mom. And that is enough.

Each of us has his own endowment from God, one to live in this way, another in that. It is an impertinence, then, to try to find out why St. Paul was not given St. Peter’s grace, or St. Peter given St. Paul’s. There is only one answer to such questions: the Church is a garden patterned with countless flowers, so there must be a variety of sizes, colors, scents—or perfections, after all. Each has its value, its charm, its joy; while the whole vast cluster of these variations makes for beauty in its most graceful form.
Francis de Sales

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I’d love to get your tips! What new role are you wrestling with right now? How have you gained confidence in carrying out that calling?

August 24, 2017

Waiting like a Mother

It seems to me that waiting well is like walking on a train trellis. (Not that I’ve ever done that, mind you, but the visual seems apt.)

Step too far in one direction, and you’re liable to fall into the ditch of obsessing over what you’re waiting for. You become so enmeshed in that one thing that you lose sight of the people around you and essentially stop living your life.

But step too far in the other direction, and you’re bound to step into the pit of a calloused heart. You end up stuffing down that thing you so desperately desire. You numb yourself, all but forgetting that you made to long for more.

It’s just so hard to keep our feet planted in the sweet spot in the middle.

I’m waiting right now. Waiting for contractions, waiting for labor to start, waiting for go-time. I have been in seasons of waiting before, but in the past these seasons have felt less defined. I didn’t have any way of knowing when I was getting near the end of the waiting—or if I would get the thing I was waiting for at all.

But now, as I’m 11 days past my due date, I find myself in the surreal place of hitting the day I was counting down to and not knowing where to go from here. (That said, I’ve never met a permanently pregnant woman, so I’m confident this will end at some point.)

I don’t know how long I have left for this particular brand of waiting, but I don’t want to waste it. I want to enjoy the anticipation of wondering what’s ahead while also savoring the right-now.

The truth is, we’re all waiting for something. No matter what we’re waiting for in this life, we’re ultimately waiting for something we long for more deeply than anything else: to be united with Christ. We aren’t alone in this—in fact, “all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”

We are waiting for a different world, a better world . . . a world where there’s no sorrow and no sin and no suffering. A world where we’ll be united with the one we’re waiting for.

What if I could wait for Jesus the same way I’m waiting for this baby? What if I could be ready at any moment, with my bags packed and my phone numbers ready, but at the same time living my life fully? What if I could watch for the signs of go-time with as much anticipation, knowing that although there will be pain, the joy will be so worth it in the end?

One thing I do know about both kinds of waiting: we’re one day closer than we were yesterday.

Hope can feel unbearable; when we passionately long for what we do not have and it is taking too long to come, we are restless as a farmer waiting for rain after an August without a drop. . . . Any hope, no matter how thin it gets, is better than no hope at all. . . . Still, even if having hope is one hundred percent better than not having it, living by hope can get awfully wearying.
Lewis Smedes

August 3, 2017

The Weight of Blessing

The other day a wise friend offered me this nugget of wisdom: “Pregnancy is eight months and one year long.” And that sounds exactly right. The last eight months have absolutely sped by, but now, as I struggle to tie my shoes and navigate three-point turns when I roll over, and as I long to see our baby face-to-face, it seems like the calendar is stuck.

Last Sunday I headed to church on one of those sweltering Midwest days when the humidity is already at 90 percent by 10 a.m. I was on my third pair of shoes (after trying on two others that no longer fit), and the short walk from the car to the front of the church felt like a 5K. My whole body felt heavy, and I wished I could take off this load for a while.

When I waddled up to the door, I was greeted by a white-haired grandmotherly woman I’d never met. As she shook my hand, her entire face lit up in a smile. “Oh, my dear!” she exclaimed, taking both my hands in hers. “You are carrying a blessing!”

In an instant, my perspective changed. I wasn’t just carrying a weight. I wasn’t just hauling around the equivalent of four bags of flour in my belly. I was carrying a blessing.

It struck me that when we ask God for blessings, we’re typically envisioning something warm and fuzzy . . . something that makes our lives easier. We assume blessings come to us light and fluffy, like rainbows and fairy dust. In reality, though, the real blessings are the ones that have some weight to them.

What nobody tells you is that blessings usually require some heavy lifting.

The job you’ve been asking God for? It will mean hard work, day after day. The dream you’ve been hoping will come true? It will force you to roll up your sleeves. The relationship you’ve been longing for? It will require regular maintenance. These are blessings, all right, but they’re blessings we carry.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Mary lately, who was considered “blessed above all women.” But if you think about it, her blessing was no cakewalk. She carried the weight of the unborn Messiah all the way to Bethlehem. She carried the weight of knowing a sword would pierce her very soul. And perhaps most of all, she carried the burden of watching her beloved son die.

Loneliness, sorrow, loss—this isn’t what we imagine when we ask God to bless us.

But the truth is, the weight is a gift. It reminds us to pray, to give this blessing the credit it’s due. It reminds us not to take treat this blessing lightly.

So that weight you’re carrying today? As heavy as it is, it’s worth it. The greater the burden, the greater the blessing.

Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind or the mystery of a tiny baby growing in its mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things.
Ecclesiastes 11:5

April 22, 2016

Friday Favorites for April

For anyone who wonders what to do with those old books . . .

I have a hard time getting rid of old books, but maybe if I could make art like this, it would be easier: Paper Art Teacups

For anyone who is going to be in a wedding this year . . .

We all know how expensive it is to host a wedding, but what about being in one? This graphic breaks down how much it costs to be a bridesmaid in each region of the country: How Much Does It Cost to Be a Bridesmaid?

For anyone who feels stuck in the ordinary . . .

Sarah Bessey writes about the spiritual epiphany she experienced while cleaning Rice Krispies from her kitchen floor. If you’ve ever felt mired in ordinary tasks that don’t feel very epic or eternally significant, this post is for you: Rice Krispies

For any writers in need of inspiration . . .

C. S. Lewis had some surprisingly relevant insights about the writing process, including tips about typewriters, what topics to write about, and Christianese. 15 Pieces of Writing Advice from C. S. Lewis

For anyone who is grieving . . .

September Vaudrey wrote an achingly beautiful book about losing her 19-year-old daughter Katie to a brain aneurysm. This is the most honest, articulate depiction of grief I’ve ever read, but it’s also laced with hope and joy. “And this is surrender: inviting laughter and sorrow to dance together in our lives, day by day and hand in hand.” If you’ve experienced loss of any kind, I highly recommend this book. Colors of Goodbye

January 23, 2015

Friday Favorites

Here are a few of my recent favorite things. Enjoy, and happy Friday!

For anyone who loves a turn of phrase . . .

How can you narrow a list of beautiful literary sentences down to 51? Even so, here’s a start. One of my favorites: “In our village, folks say God crumbles up the old moon into stars.” 51 of the Most Beautiful Sentences in Literature

For anyone who needs another excuse to get swallowed up in a book . . .

The surprising lesson novels teach about empathy: Science Shows Something Surprising about People Who Love Reading Fiction

For anyone who was an English major . . .

These classic scenes from literature have been recreated with Legos. Hilarious! Favorite Scenes from Classic Literature, Lego Style

For anyone who’s trying to hold it all together . . .

Lisa-Jo Baker’s response to people who ask her how she does it all: “Here’s the obvious truth: I don’t. And what I do manage—I don’t always do very well.” How I Do It All

For anyone who’s experienced an awkward introduction at a party . . .

I really appreciated this simple yet profound insight about how we introduce our friends . . . and how we define ourselves. I want to start trying this right away. A Better Way to Introduce Your Friends

October 4, 2013

Happy (Thirty) Sixth Birthday to Me

Thirty years ago today—my 6^th birthday—the Worst Birthday Disaster Ever turned into my Best Birthday Party Ever. (Because obviously, when you’re six, the world is one big superlative.)

When September rolled around, Mom said, “It’s time to start thinking about your birthday!” just as she did every year. So we sat down at the kitchen table and went through the annual checklist to pull off a party personalized just for me. And as always, I felt like the most special girl in the whole world.

What theme do you want for your party? (I must have had some undue influence from Rainbow Brite, because the theme always seemed to include some variation of rainbows and hearts.)

What shape do you want for your cake? (Yes, Mom made it from scratch.)

What flavor do you want for the cake? (Cherry. Every single time.)

Everything was nailed down, and I could feel my little heart fluttering in anticipation.

But then came the final question:

Who do you want to invite to your party?

I swallowed hard. “Mom,” I said, “I wish my birthday was in the spring, not the fall.”

She looked at me quizzically. “Why, honey?”

“It’s too early in the year. I don’t have friends yet.

And it was true. I was the slow-to-warm-up kid, the shy girl, the one who stood on the outskirts at recess until she worked up the confidence to break in sometime around second semester.

Mom didn’t miss a beat. “No problem,” she said. “We’ll just invite all the girls in your class.”

There was no trace of panic in her eyes, but looking back now, I have to wonder if she was secretly hyperventilating. How on earth would she fit 16 girls in our house?

But at the age of almost-six, I didn’t notice. My eyes were already dancing with visions of hearts and rainbows. In an instant, through the magic of Mom’s words, I’d gone from having zero friends to having 15.

And when it was time to blow out the candles on my heart-shaped cake, surrounded by every single girl in my class, I felt so happy I might as well have swallowed a rainbow whole. For once, everything seemed so perfect I could hardly think of anything to wish for. I remember offering a halfhearted wish for the ultimate icing on the day: an actual rainbow in the sky.

But I have a hunch God gave priority to a mom’s prayers in that moment. A mom who was whispering prayers for the heart of a little girl who wanted a friend. A mom who was making a wish herself—for a day free of rain (and accompanying rainbows) so there would be room for 16 little girls in party hats at the table outside.

This is 30 years late, but thanks, Mom. Thanks for the Best Birthday Party Ever.

June 28, 2013

June Book Discussion: Carry On, Warrior

Thanks to everyone who participated in our virtual book club (which I introduced here). June’s selection was Carry on, Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton.

Here’s how it works: I’ll throw out some discussion topics, and you can post your comments below—about these topics or other things you want to talk about.

Discussion #1: Authenticity
I really appreciated the author’s authentic voice—sharing the hard, real parts of life that we try to pretty up or hide from other people. Glennon’s honesty is a refreshing reminder that there is freedom in recognizing and admitting our brokenness. It’s obvious that she loves her children and finds joy in the sacred ground of motherhood, but she doesn’t pretend to have a Pinterest-perfect life. Plus, her honesty can be downright hilarious (case in point: when her daughter announced at the dentist’s office: “Mom, you smell like a bar!”).

Glennon’s insights in “Don’t Carpe Diem” are gold—especially for moms with young kids:

This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life when I’m raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways, to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I’m not in a constant state of profound gratitude and ecstasy, I’m doing something wrong.

I appreciate the insight she comes to about kairos time vs. chronos time—being able to savor each season without having to pretend that each moment of it is bliss.

Do you think Glennon overshared, or were you inspired by her vulnerability? Can you relate to her feelings about the pressure to “Carpe Diem”?

Discussion #2: Book vs. Blog
The jacket of the book admits up front that some of the content is taken from the author’s blog, momastery.com. But I was surprised to find how much it felt like a loosely compiled string of blogs. I often found myself disoriented in time when the order skipped around, and I kept searching for an overarching narrative arc. I would consider myself a casual reader of Glennon’s blog, and I was surprised how much content overlapped what I’ve already read from her.

Do you have different expectations for books versus blogs? Did you think the book held together with this structure?

Discussion #3: Truth-Telling
Glennon calls herself a “truth-teller,” and I think she achieves that goal. The upside of that is we get front-row seats to the work of redemption God has done and continues to do in her life. But as I read, it struck me that it’s one thing to decide to bare the skeletons in your own closet, but how much liberty does one have to raid the closets of her husband and kids? As much as I enjoyed these personal glimpses, I wondered what her children will think as they get older and the world knows about their business. (And what on earth did her husband think of her sharing that e-mail she sent him at work?!)

When it comes to sharing—whether in a blog, on social media, or in a book—how much do you think is okay to share about your kids/family/friends? Do you have any standards in place for yourself?

Rating: ★ ★ ★
I would give this book 3 stars for the enjoyable content but lazy structure.

How many stars would you give this book?

Once again, there will be a FREE BOOK GIVEAWAY for one lucky commenter!

May 17, 2013

Friday Favorites

For all the pleasers out there…

If you’ve ever struggled with trying to add to grace, wanting to earn a smile from God and other people, I highly recommend this book by Tullian Tchividjian. It has been a game changer for me: Jesus + Nothing = Everything

For all the teachers out there…

Teaching has to be one of the hardest, most thankless jobs out there. I had some amazing teachers and I know some amazing teachers, so I want to remind all you hardworking teachers out there that you are making a difference. (And you will make it through these last few weeks, I promise!) Dear Teachers Everywhere

For kids and everyone who loves a kid…

This was a fun list of children’s books—it made me reminisce about some of my childhood favorites and make a trip to the library to check out a few I missed: 25 Books Every Kid Should Have on Their Bookshelf

For Literary Nerds

In honor of Shakespeare’s birthday a couple of weeks ago, here’s a list of words we can thank him for. The world wouldn’t be the same without him, because I don’t think there’s a true synonym for bedazzled! 20 Words We Owe to William Shakespeare

For Moms and Non-Moms Alike…

Mother’s Day can be one of the trickiest holidays to handle. How do we honor moms while acknowledging women who don’t fit the traditional mold? This post by Sarah Arthur offers a compassionate perspective: Are Women Really Saved through Childbearing?

May 13, 2013

The Mother-Love of God

My friend Sarah had a baby shower not long ago, and I was asked to share something before gift-opening time. I found myself stymied at first, not knowing firsthand what it’s like to be a mom, but as I pondered more, I realized I do know what it’s like to have a mom. I’ve been given the incomparable gift of a mom whose unconditional love has pointed me to the love of God. So whether you are a mom or have had a mom, I’d like to share Sarah’s shower message with you.

***

When we think about God, we usually picture him as a Father, and it’s true—he’s everything a good dad should be: loving, protective, strong, fair in his discipline. But who knew? The Bible also says that God is like a mother. Apparently there’s something about the love of a mom that shows us a side of God’s character nothing else can.

1. Like a mom, God loves his children before they’re even born.

Sarah, when you and John announced that you were expecting a baby, the room could barely contain your excitement. We could tell how overjoyed you were about this little person, even before you met her. Even when you were so sick you could barely get out of bed, you were already forming a special connection with her. The truth was obvious to the world: you loved your little girl.

God feels the same way about us, his children. He knew us even before we were born, just as he knows your baby girl even now, all four pounds of her. He knows every little detail about her—what color her eyes will be, if she’ll be musical or artistic or social, what will make her giggle, what will make her cry, what will make her heart pound with passion, what will make her heart break. And God loves her, even now.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body

and knit me together in my mother’s womb….

You saw me before I was born.

Every day of my life was recorded in your book.

Every moment was laid out

before a single day had passed.

How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.

They cannot be numbered!

—Psalm 139:13, 16-17

2. Like a mom, God loves his children when they’re completely dependent on him.

Sarah, when that baby is placed in your arms in the hospital, the love will be a little one-sided at first. She won’t be able to pay you for taking care of her, she won’t be able to do any chores around the house to earn her keep, she won’t even be able to say thank you. But you know what? You’ll love her anyway, even though she can’t reciprocate your love.

That unconditional mother-love is the kind of love God has for us. We don’t deserve it, we can’t earn it, and we’re totally dependent on him. Yet he showers his love on us anyway.

Can a mother forget her nursing child?

Can she feel no love for the child she has borne?

But even if that were possible,

I would not forget you!

—Isaiah 49:15

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3. Like a mom, God loves his children as they grow up.

Sarah, as your daughter grows up and starts to spread her wings, your love for her will only grow deeper. The way you show her love will look different—you won’t be changing her diaper or feeding her mashed peas anymore—but your love won’t change. You’ll always be her mom.

Psalm 131 talks about the beautiful bond that takes place between a mother and a child when the child chooses to be close—not because they need something, but just because they love their mom.

I have calmed and quieted myself,

like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk.

Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.

—Psalm 131:2

Sarah, I see that in your relationship with your own mom. You talk with her, you laugh with her, you share things with her—not just when you need something, but because she’s your friend. The same is true in our relationship with God. He wants us to come to him with our needs, yes, but he also delights when we come to him simply because we want to be in his presence. Like a weaned child.

So, Sarah, as you enter motherhood and as your daughter goes through each stage, I pray that you will grow in your love for her. And along the way, I pray that God will give you new glimpses into his own love. His unconditional, extravagant, mother-like love.

***

Postscript: Sarah and John’s baby girl, Hannah, entered the world two months ago. Happy first Mother’s Day, Sarah!