From our Irish home to yours, we wish you tidings of great comfort and joy.

Surely He taught us to love one another
His law is love and His gospel is peace.

The t-shirts were an excellent Christmas gift from my sis' fiance Nathan at The Record Machine. I'm pretty sure this will be our new family uniform. Walking advertisements, we are.

Happy Christmas, friends.

Faith in the ink of rebellion

I had a boyfriend once, whose thick hoop earring and cross tattoo on his back made him quite the object of fascination among us youth group girls. When I finally got the chance to touch those dark lines, I asked him why he did it, the earring and the tattoo. I thought I knew; he was all hard edges and loud music. But he looked at me with such innocence, "I am a slave to Christ," he said, referencing the Old Testament binding of a slave to his master. The boy with the ring in his ear.

This was how I knew I loved him. Faith in the form of rebellion.

***



I was looking to add to my rebellion. Getting married at 20 made me feel much more settled, safe and pure than my teens had led my heart to believe. Matt was my match, my calming force and steady hand, sent from above. But I still had a wildness burning within that tandem bike rides along the lake front could not tame. Adulthood had onset with a swift force and I needed one last look back at the years which broke and bore me.

Like any good big sister, I talked my little sister into it, too. It wasn't all that hard; she was - and still is - a willing accomplice. In any case, we took our 18 and 21 year-old-selves and asked for our mother's blessing. She sighed and fretted, but the fact we were doing it together, the fact we had spent the majority of our young lives at odds, the fact we had finally seen one another for what we really were - mirror images, best friends - her fight for tradition and propriety faded away in the face of soul sisters.

And so it was, we took a printed copy of a clip-art image of a daisy into the tattoo shop. Yes. Clip-art. We left imprinted, her ankle and my back, with a white and yellow daisy. My inner rebellion was satisfied by a pure symbol of peace.

Over the years, Matt got the itch as well. His calmness and maturity gave way to a hidden dissenter, asking questions and searching for depth. His soft edges grew stronger while my hardness became less brittle. When the systematic theology and preaching formulas he deferred to for so long failed to make much headway on the uneven and narrow footpath of life overseas, he longed for simple faith in the face of doubt. The calm in the storm.

And so it was, he journeyed to Belfast with a youth pastor friend and left imprinted with St Brigid's Cross. His inner dissenter was satisfied by a symbol of simple faith, folded within with the reeds of long Irish grass.

This is how we belong to eachother. Me and my sister. Matt and I. Us and Christ. The story is written on our skin and when we are asked, we tell it. Faith, hope and love in the ink of rebellion.

There are more stories to be shared, and we dream up the designs and the placement. A pair of strong hands cradling the tree whose leaves hold the names of our children, Yahweh written like a wreath around my wrist, the ring of black with my name on his finger ("You know it's permanent, right?" my mother asks, aware more than others that some things tattooed on our hearts do not last).

We shall see... whether these stories are written on paper or skin or heart. We shall see, the shape it takes. We shall see if it fades away.


joining the syncroblog at A Deeper Story on our Embodied Stories...

Reading equilibrium

A lot of things get put on hold when you move: organizing, cooking, and cleaning, to name just a few. Also on my hold list these past few months? Reading. You know I love to read, whether I finish the book or not, and I've missed these down times of quiet reflection (or late nights of page turning thriller).

But as we've begun to normalize over here, I've found that I have a bit more head space and emotional energy to put into my first love: books. Here's what's gracing my nightstand, nook screen, and library check-out/overdue bill:

Bring Up the Bodies, by Hilary Mantel // Confession: I've seen several episodes of The Tudors. I'm sorry. It was a moment (month) of weakness (boredom), and I utterly regret it. I do love me some British monarchy historical fiction (go, therefore, and watch Cate Blanchett as Elizabeth) and Cromwell is a fascinating character study. I'm only a couple of chapters in, but Mantel is a beautiful writer and has fleshed out a complicated and cunning Cromwell. And her descriptions of the English countryside in late summer... breathtaking. Fingers crossed I finish it! (ooh, fun fact: Bring Up the Bodies won last year's Man Booker Award. Do you know who was on the judging panel? Matthew Crawley! (may he rest in peace...))

Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young // I was turned on to this devotional (I cringe to even use the word, as I'm notoriously terrible at keeping up with devotionals and moonwalk away from typical women's ministry-type things) by Sarah Bessey, who is a trustworthy reviewer of the legit spiritual genre. A couple of girlfriends and I are reading this together, and so far I am really just loving it. Jesus Calling is written as if Jesus were talking directly to the reader, so when I find a spare moment for the day's reading, I am immediately quieted and stilled (not an easy task for me).

Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn // I wanted to love this book. Everyone seemed to love this book. And truth is, I couldn't put it down. It is an utterly engrossing book. But it also left me with a major no feeling, like I was duped into a story I did not want to know about, with characters I did not care to see survive the finale. Flynn has a gift, to be sure. And she's a Kansas City gal, so I do want to support her and her "local art," so to speak. But, no. I hated it.

A Year of Biblical Womanhood, by Rachel Held Evans // Another one of my blogging favourites, Evans spent a year trying out several supposed biblical mandates for us ladies, ranging from covering her head to sitting on her roof. I purchased it on a great Nook sale this weekend and look forward to sharing my thoughts with you after I read it. (Spoiler alert: I may end up being biased, and as I've read a lot of review of this book, have a fairly good idea where I'll stand on it... but I want to actually read it before I rave about it.)

***

What are you reading these days? Any recommendations?

Election hangover in Babylon

As the polls were closing, results came quickly in and the victor of our presidential election was announced, I sighed with relief. I'm so thankful it's over, I'm so thankful it was decided quickly, I'm so thankful we have the freedom to participate in the process of choosing our leaders and defining our laws. It's not a perfect system (do I remember the details of the electoral college from 5th grade? no, I do not.), but I believe it to be a just one. For the most part. I think.

The question I struggle with on the day after the day after is... where do we go from here? Where do we meet, exchange ideas, compromise? How does one move past the disappointment of a race lost (or the ecstasy of a race won) and into the realm of a still-broken world that needs hope, longs for grace, aches for love? 

We know a guy, from way back when we were a mismatched Bible college couple deciding on churches based on the contemporary context of the hymnal. He was our friend, but you know, you move and lose touch and only occasionally interact (on Facebook, of course) during things like world-wide catastrophes and presidential elections.

For our old friend, Tuesday was both. And raving rants of exile, Babylon, the suffering of (American) Christians, and the coming tribulations were really too much for my hope-tinted-with-realism heart to bear. I get the pain of defeat, but I don't get the doom. I get the frustration and rage against the machine, but I don't get the end times analogy. I get the "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!" But I don't get the, "I feel like we're living in the last book of Jeremiah!" For reals, look it up. It's a doozy.

This is what I wanted to say to him: Even in Babylon, even when the Jews were exiled and living under a dictatorship, God told them to build houses. He told them to plant gardens. He told them to raise up children and see them married. He told them to pray for the peace and prosperity of their city, for if the city experienced a renaissance - a rebirth - so would they! And He said, "I've not forgotten you. This is the plan we're going with. It'll be good, I promise." (I'm paraphrasing.)

The issue of their lives and hearts was so far beyond our petty political process. They were refugees, spiritual exiles, victims of ethnic cleansing! They were not pouting republicans or foot-stomping democrats. And really, all the evil in all the world is so far beyond the results of a free election in a free country (it's quite possible North Korea is living in some sort of last book of Jeremiah black hole).



But back here in 'Merica, even if your guy won on Tuesday, the problems - and the moral issues that wrought them -  won't go away in a day. And if your guy lost, you're still expected to be an active member of society, still expected to contribute. Whatever result we did or didn't wish for, we have no excuse to bury our heads in the sand.

And I think, for those of us who know and try to follow Jesus (I say try because even still, I sometimes get so lost on the rocky path), we're even more compelled, on the day after the day after, to love more and be more and look more for where God is moving. We join Him there. We cannot run away. We gotta plant those gardens, build those houses, raise up our kiddos and pray for the peace and prosperity of our city. I think this is called Kingdom living: doing what we can to bring a bit of heaven down to earth. 

And I would so much rather try to shine a little bit of heaven's light 'round these parts, than rain down hellfire and brimstone. We've got enough of that here, already.



How did this election affect you? Got any helpful hints for hope and healing? Boom: Alliteration.

Diving headfirst :: 31 days of messy parenting {day 13}

"When I read the Bible, I get the distinct sense that Jesus wasn’t interested in saving the nuclear family from a windy onslaught of liberal opinions. I rather get the impression that he was concerned with diving headfirst into the unvarnished messiness of the human condition and saving us—as individuals, as families, as communities, as people—from our own unhinged self-absorption and festering lovelessness. 

The world is a mess because we are a mess. We are a mess because I am a mess. I am a mess because my heart is a mess. And the heart condition of each of us is the heart of the issue. Any other agenda, any other moralistic totem or golden calf half-truth, any political platform or religious soapbox should receive our careful scrutiny. Because an idol carved in the shape of a smiling family is still an idol." [emphasis added]

Idolatry of the Family, by Ben Ponder | Media Rostra

This article kicked my butt a few weeks back. What do you think? Do we make an idol of the nuclear family here in America?

My slow clap for 7 {a review}

I'm interrupting this regularly scheduled 31 Days series with a major announcement:

I have finished yet another non-fiction book! Thank you for the slow clap.

7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by the hilariously brave Jen Hatmaker rocked my socks off. I've already hinted as much in my post for (in)courage about the chapter on Waste, but I wanted to share a bit more about this brilliant book and it's main message:

Jesus, may there be less of me and my junk and more of You and Your kingdom.

Truth be told, I was afraid. I'd heard about this book, and really, the last thing I wanted to read was something else to make me feel more guilty (than I already do) about what I wasn't doing (or wasn't doing well enough). But this is not that book.

You see, God had already called Jen to a life changed. And He's already called me to that, too. But the thing is, I don't think many of us really know what that change is to look like. We feel in our bones and in the (very) few contemporary worship songs that touch our hearts, and see in the sojourners who have gone before us into the great unknown of risky obedience, we have been set apart to do and be something different, but what that is...? Well, I for one am fumbling in the dark, hands outstretched, feeling for something tangible to keep me steady and point the way.

This message gets drowned out with busy nonsense. It gets overshadowed by online bill pay and mandatory church programs and the school pick up line and coffee meetings. We see glimpses of it in a random blog post or an invitation in the mail, but then mom, i need this permission slip tomorrow! and when is dinner ready? and oh my gosh there is just so much junk in my house where did I put that email address?!

Are you feeling any of this? Well, apparently Jen was, and they were soon making choices of change: resigning from the big (well-dressed) church, planting a church in an undesirable neighbourhood, and pursuing the call to adoption, to name just a few. But then a hurricane-displaced child showed up, recognized affluent wealth in the open doors of her 2400 square foot home, and Jen's mutiny against excess began to take shape.

Food, Clothing, Possessions, Media, Waste, Spending, Stress. These are the areas of relatively normal human life where Jen saw something amiss, something that needed to change, something that needed some... tweaking. Thus began a year-long experiment of abstaining from (or practicing anew) one topic, for one month, in seven simple ways.

Jen's LLOL humour (literally laugh out loud), her obvious hard-spent research, and her trial-and-error approach kept me reading. As did her refusal to turn this project into another form of evangelical guilt-turned-legalism (spoiler alert: she fails sometimes!). This book, her experiment, is about freedom. It is about letting go of a culturally desired, but not entirely necessary way of life. It is about thinking before you eat, before you spend, before you throw away, before you turn on the computer. It is about asking yourself, in that oh-so-1990s way, What would Jesus do?

And it's about loving God, loving your neighbour, loving your city and loving the world in actions and in truth.

When I closed the last page of 7, I did not feel guilty. Quite the contrary, I feel empowered. I feel like a good friend had just walked me through a refining fire, showing me the glory on the other side (I miss my new good friend Jen). I can see tangible acts of change, of grace, of mercy, of Gospel living. I can see small steps in obedience that lead me closer to Jesus.

This is no formula and it is no checklist. 7 is at the very least a guidepost, at the most a call to repentance. It is an ebenezer, and it is a challenge. I hope we're all brave enough to write a different script, to embrace a counter-cultural life of simplicity and stewardship, to put God's heart above our bottom line. Less of me, more of Jesus.

Oh, that sounds so nice for a change.

My new good friend Jen did not compensate me for this review in any way. But I'm not above a tweet shout-out or friending on facebook. 

So tell me, have YOU read it? Or is there something else on your nightstand that I have to know about?

Weary in not-well doing

A few weeks back, a wonderful gentleman who has known me for the better part of my life prayed over our family in church. As he prayed for us (a not unfamiliar task, as it was his prayers - together with God's call - that propelled us to overseas work), he asked the Lord that we would "be weary in not-well doing." I'm quite sure he meant "not be weary in well-doing," but, well, you know...

I couldn't help but laugh, as there are more than a few times I have felt weary in not-well doing. Dishes are piling up and it is way past bedtime. Sunday morning finds angry children and exhausted coffee-tumbler-toting parents hunkered down in a minivan. Prayers seemingly go unanswered after late nights of whispers and tears. Coming in third, or thirtieth, or threethousandth in a marathon, or worse yet, collapsing before the finish line.

You get the picture. Who hasn't felt weary in not-well doing?

Reflecting on that dyslexic prayer left me feeling all tied up in knots. I think I secretly wonder if this accidental prayer put a little hoax on me. We know - or really, we'd like to think we know - that God knows the thoughts and the needs behind prayers. Behind the mixed-up names and unspoken requests, He truly knows the soul and longings. (I actually referred to a not-so-new friend by an entirely different name during a lovely and inspired 3-minute verbal dialogue between me and God and in her forgiving presence. You know who you are!) But I think deep down inside my doubting heart, I ponder the ridiculous notion that in hearing those jumbled words, He did indeed grant the prayer: may she be weary in not-well doing.

But what do I really know? I know that He says:

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in Me." John 14v1

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives..." John 14v27

"Remain in me, and I will remain in you." John 15v4

"Apart from me you can do nothing." John 15v5

"You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit - fruit that will last." John 15v16

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galations 6v9

I think we're lying to ourselves if we don't own that sometimes we do grow weary in not-well doing. But what do we know? That even up to His death, Jesus - who may have grown very weary - did not grow weary in well-doing. Up to the end, He was inspiring us to pursue Him, to rest in Him, to find peace in Him, and to abide with Him. He was comforting us in our very time of need.

I woke up weary in not-well doing this morning. I mean really, super-duper, tears on the pillow weary. And then I spent the morning with Him. He chose me - me! - to go and bear fruit; fruit that will last, well past the expiration date.

So I rested in Him for a good long while, and then got back to work.

Must-Have Easter Playlist

To further avoid work (no really, I've just written a workable outline and it was EXHAUSTING so I'm taking a wee break)...

Must-Have Easter Playlist

all because of you / U2
All Creatures Of Our God And King / Fernando Ortega
Amazing Grace / Sufjan Stevens
Awakening / Sara Groves
Beyond The Sky / Fernando Ortega
Body And Wine / Jars Of Clay
City Of Sorrows / Fernando Ortega
Come Clean / Audrey Assad
Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing / Sara Groves
Come, Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy / Fernando Ortega
The Comforter Has Come / Jars Of Clay
Conversations / Sara Groves
Creed / Rich Mullins (if you have nothing else, download this!)

Gethsemene / Keith and Kristyn Getty
Gloria / U2
Hallowed / Jennifer Knapp & Phil Keaggy
Handel: The Messiah - Allegro Moderato
He Will Come / Waterdeep
He's Always Been Faithful / Sara Groves
Healed / Nichole Nordeman
Holy, Holy, Holy / Sufjan Stevens
How Can I Tell / Sara Groves
I Am / Nichole Nordeman
I Will Sing Of My Redeemer / Fernando Ortega
jesus blood never failed me yet / Jars Of Clay
Jesus, King of Angels / Fernando Ortega
Kingdom Comes / Sara Groves
Less Like Scars / Sara Groves
Light Gives Heat / Jars Of Clay
My Deliverer / Rich Mullins
My God Has Come to Save Me / Waterdeep
No One Else / Fernando Ortega
Psalm 18 / Waterdeep
Rest in You / Waterdeep
Rise Up / Ben Shive
Romans / Jennifer Knapp
Sing Alleluia / Jennifer Knapp & Mac Powell
Sing To Jesus / Fernando Ortega
Something Changed / Sara Groves
Tears Of The Saints / Leeland
There Is A River / Jars Of Clay
This Too Shall Be Made Right / Derek Webb
The Transfiguration / Sufjan Stevens
Walls & Tall Shadows / Waterdeep
Where The Streets Have No Name / U2 Please
yahweh / U2
You Are Lovely / Waterdeep
You Did Not Have A Home / Rich Mullins
You Did That For Me / Sara Groves

Sunday afternoon and different kinds of "quiet time"

The house is dark and somewhat quiet as each one of us experience different types of quiet time: the baby is sleeping, big brother and sister are in their room reading and creating masterpieces, auntie/sister is dozing on the sofa, and I'm sitting in my comfy club chair channel surfing between golf and and college basketball (hence the dozer on the sofa).

I enjoyed another kind of quiet time earlier, worshipping with my church family and listening to a friend as he shared God's heart with us. We're in the Gospel of Mark right now, a book which I tend to ignore based upon my own preferential treatment of the Gospel of John. Mark has been good, though, and a refreshing change of pace for me. Today we only read a couple of passages, but took some time to process them and ask some questions of ourselves. This one verse, from the Message, is sticking with me:

Jesus wasn't able to do much of anything there—he laid hands on a few sick people and healed them, that's all. He couldn't get over their stubbornness. Mark 6v5

I asked myself a question I already knew the answer to: "Does my stubbornness hinder Jesus from doing much of anything with me?" I know the answer is yes, and I don't mind saying that I hate that idea.

Instead, I want to embrace where Christ has placed me now, in this weird in-between thing. I need Him to help me cherish the value in raising my children, supporting my husband, being a friend and a sister.

I need Him to do much of everything, in me.

...Well, quiet time is over, Star Wars is on the telly, and it's time to think about dinner... gonna rely on Jesus to help me "do much" of some stuff!

God and books and stuff

So I've been reading this book, Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller. Now Miller is the same guy who wrote Blue Like Jazz, which everyone I know has read, and either a) adored it and are obsessed with it, or b) hated it and are obsessed with trashing it. Either way, you gotta admit a guy who can write a book that elicits responses like that must be just shy of genius.

Anyway, so as I wait for this baby to be born, I've been reading this book. And I've been reading not just because I don't have much else to do besides wait for the baby, but also because lately I've found myself really thirsty for some spiritual conundrums. Church hasn't quite been doing it for me lately, which I feel really guilty about considering that one big reason we're here is to do "church". And really, that's probably not very accurate, we're here to follow and try to be Jesus as best we can. It just so happens, that more often than not, those notions get intertwined with attending church.

It could be that I'm not really getting much out of church because I've only been able to go about twice a month. The truth is, I've not been well. Besides being ginormously with child, I've been living with daily migraines. I wake up in the morning, and it's there. I drink water, I drink juice, I intake caffeine, I refrain from caffeine, I push tylenol, I try to nap... you get the picture. These migraines last until early evening, when strangely I'm finally given a reprieve. After spending all day in bed with blinding pain behind my eyes, missing my children and begging God to take it away, I'm able to eat dinner with my family, play a bit with my kids, get a bit of work/cleaning/baby prep done, and then spend the rest of the night trying to prepare for sleep, which I know will only end in me waking up, yet again, with another migraine. (It should be noted that I have mentioned this to the doctors/midwives I see when I go in for my antenatal appointments, but they don't seem to be really concerned...).

So, yeah, I've missed a bit of church. But even when I've been there, I'm not really paying attention. Or I'm confused. Or I get frustrated (which, as you know, is a common Pregnant Karen symptom). In all honesty, this happened probably just as frequently in our churches in the States, so perhaps it really is me and not the church... at least, that's what I'm starting to get a handle on.

So I decided to pick up Miller's book because Blue Like Jazz moved me so deeply and I thought, if I'm having a hard time at church, if I'm having a hard time concentrating on prayer, if I'm struggling with studying the Bible, and if I've got these horrible headaches which keep me bed-bound most days, I need to read something that might open the window and let a little fresh air in. Or I need to read something that makes me feel less crazy and less out-of-control. (The end of pregnancy does have a habit of reminding you how freaking little you control in the first place.)

I thought that perhaps I should just share a little bit of this book with you, not in a review-y sort of way, but in quotes and small morsels. Miller reminds me a lot of my sister, Jessica, who knows that there are no easy answers and really thinks it valuable to spend a good, hard time figuring out just who Jesus is, just what the Bible is talking about, and just exactly what we are to do with our lives, knowing that information. So when I read Miller, I kinda feel like she and I are having a conversation, like we used to do in my living room in KC, with our anarchist cousin, and my husband keeping us all grounded (and trying to keep us quiet so we wouldn't wake the children with our shouting).

So here are some quotes from Searching for God Knows What. They are tidbits of thought that I have read at the doctor's office, in the bath, laying in bed with a fan directly on my face, or on that one sunny day where I could read in a chair in the back garden (with a hat on, mind you, so that the sun wouldn't aggravate the migraine). No matter where I was when I read them, I either laughed or cried, out loud. Sometimes I gasped. And occasionally I would pray and thank God for blowing my mind, or at least touching my heart just a wee bit.

(at this point, I hope you're still with me...)

About God, the creator:

Whatever it is that understands the physics of this thing that is happening to us would have to be quite remarkable, with giant oaks for feet, perhaps, and a voice like wind through a forest and a mind that creates creations of which it might ponder in a way of learning what it already knows.

About us and what we believe about God:

In my opinion, there are two essential problems with believing God is something He isn't. The first problem is that it wrecks your life, and the second is that it makes God look like an idiot.

About Jesus, and John the Evangelist:

The way John writes about Jesus makes you feel like the sum of our faith is a kind of constant dialog with Jesus about whether or not we love Him... John seemed to embrace the relational dynamic of our faith... He revealed how none of the disciples truly understood Jesus and how they were all screwups, and he didn't make himself look good, either... That's guts, if you ask me.

About nudity and the Fall:

I wondered why it was that when people talked about the fall of man, about the Garden of Eden, they never talked about how people went around naked. If you ask me, the most obvious thing that happened after the Fall was that people started wearing all kinds of clothes... I mean, evolution may explain how we came from apes, but it does nothing to explain why we wear clothes.

And that's just all in the first 70 pages...

A year ago

Ella says "dance" and "thanks".
She signs "more" only if absolutely necessary.
She puckers her lips when happy and tears at her clothes and hair when mad.
She cuddles more than before, especially after exposing bare bellies - hers and mine.

Jackson writes his name - all the time - every day.
He draws, too - LarryBoy and pumpkins.
He quotes lines from commercials and points with his middle finger: "Your world, delivered."
He prays and talks to God and he says God talks to him, too.

Matt is in Ireland, pursuing a dream, answering a call.
I think he will find Christ there, leading him.
I pray for his heart to endure the waiting.
Strength to overcome the fear.
Wisdom to replace all questions.
More like Christ now, to serve Him better later.
To introduce who He is to the doubtful and proud, we must be more like Him -
chase His holiness.

I am in Kansas. Finally learning a thing or two.



written 11 November 2007