One Quiet Life

My neighbors have hung Christmas lights. Friends have decorated their trees. Christmas music wafts down the hall from my daughter's bedroom. This is more than the normal commercial push. After months of social isolation, brutal protests, and ugly politics, people are craving Christmas this year.  We need a little Christmas, right this very minute... Good tidings and warm fuzzies. Twinkle lights and mistletoe. Romantic movies and Santa. It's the most wonderful time of the year... Misers give generously. Unkind people learn to love. Damaged relationships are mended.   Have yourself a merry little Christmas... Families gather. The decorations are flawless. The perfect gift is found. All our troubles disappear.  The world's idea of Christmas crumbles beneath our expectations . That Christmas, for all its shiny promises, misses the mark. Hope wrapped in pretty paper and ornate ribbons will always disappoint. True hope was wrapped in swaddling cloths.   A thrill of ho...

I step over the threshold and am immediately engulfed by the absence of my grandfather's waiting arms open wide. I walk past the kitchen which so often nourished me, and into the living room where I have listened to thousands of tall tales and stories of the good old days. I overlook the dust and gaze back into the holidays and the ordinary days spent here. This is the place where my daddy was raised. Where the yard was home to a giant grapevine and an old tire swing. Where the dog was always named Bullet and the kitchen counter always held a jar of jelly beans. Where dessert meant yellow cake with chocolate icing, and Granddaddy drank milk with every meal. This is the place I cannot imagine my life without. I move through the house and silently say goodbye. It's unlikely I will return.  As much as I ache for the past, I cannot recreate it. All that's left are time-worn memories of people who loved me without fail.   ~~~~~ I am ecstatic. My cousin has gifted me with the b...

Onyx patterns stand against the pale morning. The shapes recognizable, but not distinguishable. The sun has yet to illuminate the unique features of each tree. I am reminded of a portrait that hung in my grandparents' home. A child's profile stamped onto creamy paper, her identity hidden.   ~~~~~ As a young bride, I sit beside the man whose heart is so freshly knit to mine. The artist uses scissors rather than a brush. When he is done, I survey his handiwork. Somehow we two are joined together; our individual characteristics are not visible. Our marriage not yet defined. This new creation is unmarked by years heavy with life. Nearly three decades later the outlines may look slightly different, but the people within them have been much altered by grace, love, and loss. ~~~~~ Isaac, a sacrificial son bound by obedience. Did he chafe against the ropes? Did he beg his father to find another way? David, a shepherd boy from Bethlehem. He cared for his sheep. He ascended to the thron...

Headlights slice through the black. I watch for animals making their final move under cover of darkness. The day's tasks already run through my mind, the never ending playlist of this life. I'm on autopilot until I turn the corner, when I'm surprised to hear a breathless Wow! escape my lips. I can't count the number of colors I see. The designs painted in the sky. The detail of it all is astonishing. My first inclination is to stop, pull out my phone, and take a picture. Potential captions pop into my head. The car behind me quashes any chance I have at social media popularity for the day. I must keep driving. Although my attention should be on the road, my eyes are continually drawn to the ongoing magnificent display above me. The shifts in light and color are almost imperceptible, but each moment creates a scene more dazzling than the one before it. How could a piece of technology capture an all-glorious God at work? I feel ashamed that I wanted to try. And then, it h...

It's Tuesday. I step out into the deep pitch of the morning and mentally prepare for the drive. I don't like driving this early.  Out of nowhere, white orbs hurtle toward me. They pierce the darkness and cause me to squint. I fight the urge to just close my eyes. Instead I focus on the tail lights in front of me. I know the one driving will always lead me to safety; he's been doing that for almost three decades now. Still my hands instinctively grasp tighter. My jaw clenches. A podcast keeps me company, diverts my attention from my fear. I glance at the clock and calculate how much time is left in the journey. A few minutes later, I repeat the same exercise. Rural darkness is like none other; it completely engulfs its surroundings. I know where I am, not because I see landmarks, but because I know how long I've been driving. Mercifully, it is over. My husband keeps driving to work, but I park and breathe a sigh of relief. I have arrived. Women start to trickle in. Swee...

This weekend we picked out pumpkins and chrysanthemums for the front porch. Glancing over various shades and textures, I was so worried that the steady drizzle would become a downpour that I hardly took notice. My daughter was struck by the abundance the farmer's market had to offer. I was preoccupied with thoughts of getting out of the rain. Tinges of yellow and rust dot the skyline. The leaves are starting to fall. As creation prepares to hibernate, it erupts into a final array of glory; a memory to take with us into the months of short days and long nights. I drive by without giving it much thought, focused instead on whatever destination or task lies before me. As a child I carefully gathered leaves from the maple tree in our front yard, selecting various sizes and shades. Mama watched over my shoulder, gently guiding me as I pressed the iron over the sheets of wax paper to seal my treasures. I was in awe of the bright colors, how they burst forth in a blaze and suddenly vanish...

It started with an email. A dear friend sent me a link to an article she thought I would enjoy. I opened it up, and my breath caught at the first lines. Here was beautiful prose, pointing me to Christ. In the matter of a few moments, I realized how much I missed blogging. Reading posts, and writing them. For much of the day, I pondered the place blogging had once held in my life, how easily I'd given it up, and how social media has generally been a stumbling block for me - giving too much time to it, placing too much importance on it, expecting too much recognition from it. When blogging seemed to be on its way out, I abandoned it for more popular, shorter bursts of communication. Both my brain and my spirit have felt the effects. I wonder about the neurological impact my smart phone has had on my brain.  I've noticed that my attention span has suffered. Trying to stem the tide, I installed safeguards: downtime and screen time features which have been extremely beneficial. I...

My husband and I have been fans of American Ninja Warrior for several years now. I love the stories of the contestants and watching them conquer the crazy obstacles. More than that, though, I admire the community that long-time contestants have cultivated. They travel to encourage other contestants, stand on their side-lines and cheer, and even wear each other's shirts as a sign of solidarity. Even though they are all vying for a chance to advance and hopefully claim a large cash prize, they view each other as comrades rather than competitors. Many of them bring others in and train together. As believers, such a community should be commonplace to us.  It's how the church should work. How would the church look to the unbelieving world if we squelched our jealousy of others' gifts, talents, and opportunities? What if we left our comfort zones by choosing to stand and cheer one another? Can you imagine laying aside our agendas and pointing others to another believer inste...

One morning in late May I faced the reality that I’ve been a terrible steward of the body God has given me. I couldn’t deny it any longer. I knew I had to make a change. I divided my overall goal into smaller ones so that I can celebrate when I achieve each one. I let go of my pride and asked some friends to pray for me. I asked another to hold me accountable. I praise God for their faithfulness. The past 7 weeks have been a learning experience full of ups and downs, but just as full of God's grace. I've nearly met my first goal. I look forward to exercise. I've never told myself I can't have something. I'm sleeping better. Most importantly, I'm feeling better. I've discovered more about how my body works. I've been practicing intuitive eating. I tried different exercise until I found what works best. I created a program that is good for me. I don't expect it to work for everyone. God created us as unique individuals, which seems to imply that ...

Recently my husband commented that I hadn't posted anything here in quite a while. It's true, the good intentions I had a few months ago quickly fell victim to...life, I suppose. And the knowledge that my words are often so inadequate for my feelings. The woman I am and the writer I want to be seldom seem to find common ground. And then there's the constant self-scrutiny of what I expect this place to be - a writing project or a journal of sorts? Theology or everyday life? I'm drawn to all of these, but each has its own particular set of drawbacks. Not to mention my obvious overthinking of every.single.thing. When I started my first blog back in 2006, blogging was different. I was different. The past 13 years have brought a multitude of changes in my life (family, career, church, theology), yet those changes seem minuscule compared to the explosion in social media and its impact on communication and relationships. I've wrestled with wanting a platform, a minis...

Lately I've been thinking about vacations of days gone by. Before my girl went in the water, I would remind her to look up on the beach every few minutes. As long as she stayed in front of the steep triangle of a particular cottage, she wouldn't be far from our spot on the beach. I stressed the importance of checking her bearings often, no matter how weak the current seemed. It's been two years since I cut the cord for a short period of time.  Doing so was my reaction to a variety of events that conspired to show me that I needed a break from my phone and social media in particular. After a while I dipped my toes back into the waters, confident that I would stay in the right place.  It's only recently that I've looked up to see how far away I've drifted. I have forgotten to check my bearings. I underestimated the strength of the current. Or maybe I was pridefully confident in my own ability to stand against it. The makings of a quiet life have become blurry...

This space was dormant for nine months. Until a couple of weeks ago I had not visited here since last summer when I wrote two posts from the depths of pain and anger. I suppose I could cite numerous underlying causes, but the fact is that I could not bear to see my wrestlings on a screen. I can't say why I hit "publish" on the two posts I did write, but to take them down now feels dishonest somehow. These nine months have seen no lack of words in my life. I would probably be crushed under the weight of the words I read, spoke, heard, and wrote. Words have been my friend for as long as I can remember, though I've come to understand how deeply they can pierce us, cut us off at the knees. And I've also learned how restorative they can be. Nine months of silence broken. A child is knit together in that amount of time. I feel as if I have been knit back together, patched up but stronger. As the Lord has purged the bitter, He's left me with sweet glimpses of Him...

There was a forest behind the neighborhood I grew up in. Perhaps 2 or 3 acres of trees doesn't qualify as a forest , but it seemed much larger to me. I would wander through it every now and again. If I lost my way, I would look for a certain uniquely-shaped tree. Once I found it, I knew I wasn't far from the path that would lead me home. ( Source ) I've been thinking quite a bit about that forest recently. Anyone who knows me in real life will surely laugh at the idea that I know anything about trees, and I readily admit that's true. But I did know that one tree and I knew it well, though in all fairness, it was so unusually shaped that it would have been nearly impossible not to take note of it. But what if I had been preoccupied with the enormity of the forest? Would I have noticed that tree? There's an expression, You can't see the forest for the trees . Lately I've been wondering if the church has fallen victim to that mentality. Not that I dis...

No chilling winds nor poisonous breath  Can reach that healthful shore;  Sickness, sorrow, pain and death,  Are felt and feared no more. ( Source ) A gentle man, not much older than I, lay on a bed in his living room because his body won't allow him to sit. Our small group worshiped together. The depth of his heartfelt but quiet "Amen" to this verse hummed loud in my ears even after the last chord was strummed and the voices died. ( Source ) What must it be like to walk in his shoes? I wondered. How could I think my problems count for anything in light of his? His body has been wracked by pain for a decade and still he worships, while looking forward to the day when he will be completely healed. He knows that day is coming. He trusts in it. It is his hope. The Lord humbles me at the most unexpected times. I often speak of faith as something to be measured and quantified, while this man must literally count the number of his steps each day.  I am reminded...

To be a Christian is to be a thinking being and to think most deeply about the most profound things - the nature of God and the ways of God in the universe. - Thabiti Anyabwile ( source ) I've been thinking a lot lately. So much so that I often feels as if the majority of my conversations begin with the words, I think... Isn't that a dangerous business, to launch into discussion based on opinion rather than fact? It's the way of the world these days, particularly on social media. Truth seems to be a luxury that many people are quick to ignore. Emotions and obfuscation are prevalent in many online debates, which seems to make them more appealing to the masses as people hop on to the bandwagon du jour . This trend of valuing emotions over rational thought isn't limited to cyberspace; it is slowly - or not so slowly - invading everyday life. The church is not immune, and may be especially vulnerable to this pitfall. I've encountered plenty of believers who eleva...

(source)  I rarely click on Twitter threads, but this one caught my eye because its subject was a beloved show. And there in the middle was a question, Wouldn’t it be beautiful if we cared for one another as if we were all midwives?  For weeks now I've been pondering the parallels between a midwife and a believer in Christ. The ladies at Nonnatus House are there for the best and worst of life. They care for expectant mothers and the least of these in their community. They offer genuine care and comfort during life's most precious and difficult moments. They hide their revulsion at the filth that so often surrounds them. They lend a handkerchief when needed, and are quick with their encouragement and humor. They tell hard truths with compassion, and cheer others on as they push through the pain. What would the church look like if believers did that for each other? If we offered to come alongside our sisters as they grieve, suffer, and rejoice? If we quit worrying...

God's Word is the word we need to hear today. We live in a strange day, when even Christians who claim to be born again and churches that claim to be evangelical ignore God's Word. -Mark Dever, Nine Marks of a Healthy Church (p. 54) Four years ago I blogged through Mark Dever's book. I've decided to revisit those posts. The first mark of a healthy church is expositional preaching. Why expositional preaching rather than topical? An expositional sermon is focused upon the Word, whereas - as you might have guessed - a topical sermon is centered upon the topic itself.  A topical sermon might be replete with Scripture, but there is an inherent danger of misunderstanding and misapplying Scripture if a verse or a passage is taken out of its context merely to support the preacher's sermon.  I have found that topical preaching encourages me to place myself in the passage, to make the Word of God about me and my problems. My friend Persis has written about why this p...

Day 1: Removed Instagram, Facebook, and the game from my phone. Deactivated Facebook so that I wouldn't be tempted to check it via browser. Delighted to find that Messenger still works; it's the feature I was most concerned about losing. Scrolled Twitter periodically, but since I reduced the number of accounts I follow it doesn't take long to see what I've missed. Most notable difference was at home in the evening. Instead of checking out to play the game and catch up on social media feeds, I had three actual phone conversations and folded laundry. I read more before going to bed. Confession: when I got online for a task, I quickly scrolled through Instagram. Day 2: Is it crazy to think I slept better because I didn't look at my phone for several hours before bedtime? Whatever the reason, I woke up feeling refreshed. I wasn't as rushed this morning as I usually am, probably because I didn't look at my phone until I received a text. Was able to have ...

It turns out I had vastly overestimated what I had to contribute. I didn't have "more" I needed to give; I actually had nothing God needed to begin with. Nothing. God is not looking for "helpers" to assist Him in saving the world. Yes, He still calls us to give ourselves generously to that mission and to be sacrificially generous with our neighbors. But not because He's short on money, talent, or time. He has never commanded us to go save the world for him; he calls us to follow him as he saves the world through us. - J.D. Greear ( source )

There is a weight to this life; the responsibilities of being a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend. I give them over to God, placing them on the scales and hoping against hope that they will equalize the balance. Source       Consider what I’ve sacrificed!       Notice how much I’ve loved!       See how hard I’ve worked!  And still I come up wanting. No matter how much I seek to find my worth in the works I place in the tray, I can never measure up. My attempts to balance the scales are vain foolishness. The words of Augustus Toplady reverberate in my mind. Nothing in my hand I bring,    Simply to the cross I cling;  Naked, come to Thee for dress;  Helpless look to Thee for grace. -Rock of Ages There is a weight to this life; the fallen world and my sinful nature nearly crush me some days. I wonder if I will be able to bear them much longer. Yet even as I ...