A Cat, a T-shirt, and how to Live with Cancer

My Mom was diagnosed with cancer in November of last year. Thursday evening she spoke about her journey with cancer at a Relay for Life dinner, I'm thankful to be able to share her talk with you here. Feel free to spread the encouragement, if you know someone facing cancer or a difficult time pass her story on.

Everything I needed to know about how to live with cancer I learned from a cat, and everything I needed to know about cancer I learned from a t-shirt.

15 years ago we lived in the metro Atlanta area. It was fall of the year, late October, almost Halloween. The air was crisp, beautiful fall leaves, pumpkins on porches. The feeling of change in the air. It was in that atmosphere that I stepped out onto my porch and saw a stray cat. He was jet black, had a big, thick Tom cat head, a flat nose like a boxer, a ragged ear that tilted to one side, a crooked tail, bald spots where scars prevented hair from growing, bowed legs, and he walked with a swagger. He was a bad cat with a bad boy attitude. I named him Boo.

Boo didn't trust people and I wanted to change that. I would call him whenever I would see him, offer him special treats, but he kept his distance. As it got colder Boo started coming into the garage for warmth. That worked to my advantage, I could have more contact with him. Boo had a need but he wasn't ready to admit it yet. He could make it out on his on, the hard way, or make it with me, a wiser choice. Finally he gave in, made the wise decision, and began trusting me. Our relationship was under way. But I knew Boo could not be the great cat he was meant to be until he had an operation. I trapped him in a cage, took him to the vet who did his job and when Boo came home he was a changed man.

He began to pursue me. Boo had not just been physically starved, he had been starved for love. He followed me like a dog, constantly at my feet. If I sat down I had a lap full of black cat. It was Boo's lap and he wanted in it. As far as Boo was concerned there was nothing else he'd rather do and no where else he'd rather be than in my lap.

I had been struggling with my relationship with God. God used Boo. I was Boo and God wanted me in His lap. Me! In His lap! I made the wise decision. I wanted to be like Boo, changed. I purposed to yield to the transformation commitment God had made to me in His word. As I spent time in God's lap I began to feel like Boo must have felt in mine; safe, comfortable, accepted, contented, welcomed, prized, examined, wanted, loved.

Two years ago I began having random symptoms; swollen, painful joints, lost range of motion, and even physical therapy. My doctor referred me to a Rheumatologist but by the time I could get an appointment my symptoms were gone. I had heart palpitations and blood pressure fluctuations. I had a night visit to the ER fearing a heart attack. I had a stress test, EKG, sonogram on my arteries expecting blockage but all negative. I had intense stomach pain and was treated for gastritis. I had fevers and night sweats. My symptoms would come and go but one thing was for sure I was losing strength and energy.

Last November 12 I began running a fever. I was treated for a UTI. Two weeks later I still had a fever. My doctor gave me an antibiotic injection. A week later I was still feverish. My Doctor ordered a CT scan suspecting I had an infection in my abdomen. By this time my strength and energy were completely gone. I told a friend "I fear I'm terribly, terribly ill."

After the scan the nurse at the radiologist sent me directly to see my doctor. I knew something was wrong. I saw the doctor quickly, I didn't like the look on her face. She sat very close and began her medical explanation. She handed me the printed radiology report. I interrupted her and said flatly, "I have cancer." She said, "we don't like that word." I don't remember what else was said, I don't remember how I got out of that room. I went out to my waiting husband and told him, "I have cancer." I do remember his loud, clear, definitive "NO".

I had become so dehydrated I was admitted to the hospital a few days later. A liver biopsy said that I had Neuroendocrine tumors in my liver, too many to count. It's a rare cancer, only 4 in 100,000 people have it. After seeing the oncologist on call I was stabilized and sent home. He called later with more lab results and a treatment plan. We learned it was inoperable and wouldn't respond to chemotherapy. But, we were assured, there were new medicines. The old medicines used to treat it had been only 20% effective but the new ones were better. I didn't like the tone in his voice. He was a great guy, we liked him, a good doctor to be sure, but his arsenal was too small for me. We knew we needed other options.

My husband asked his sister, Jeanne, who had lost her son, Beau, to synovial sarcoma two years earlier, what she would do? She suggested Cancer Treatment Centers of America. We had our first visit to CTCA on December 10th. I met my oncologist who passed me off to an Interventional Radiologist for the preferred treatment. My treatment would be an injection of between 2 to 8 million radioactive therasphers. These are tiny glass beads less than the circumference of a human hair fed through my femoral artery in my groin to be placed in the arteries in my liver which fed the tumors. There are only a handful of hospitals in the country with this new technology. I had "fallen" into the right hands.

I felt like a character in a science fiction movie as I had my first treatment on Jan 19. After an overnight stay I was sent home to wait for the beads to do their job. Those were long difficult weeks. I was in the capable hands of an excellent caregiver, my husband. He took family medical leave to be with me constantly. Our church and families were loving and supportive.

But you are never the same after you hear the C word. Cancer changes everything. It changes how you feel about time, relationships, possessions, even your own body as it betrays you. I prayed, asking, begging God to enable me to do this thing. Fear could overtake me at times. What if the treatment didn't work? But, God reminded me of Boo. I had allowed fear to get me out of the lap. Back into His lap I crawled, insisting on being there, finding comfort, rest, peace and trust. In those intimate moments God spoke to me of my fear reminding me that I need to live today, just today. Don't try to live tomorrow, don't look at it. He hadn't ask me to live tomorrow yet, but when He did call me to He would be there with me.

The last time we were at CTCA my radiologist told me that in January my condition had been scary. He didn't need to tell me that. I knew it. I knew I had been in danger, I had felt it. But, a stray black cat had shown me 15 years earlier how to live with cancer, how to walk the most difficult mile of my journey.

My two treatments were considered successful. At the last MRI I had no viable tumors in my liver. We go back to CTCA Monday the 13th. I'll have an MRI of my liver and hopefully find out about removal of the primary cancer.

The last time Silver, my little therapy dog, and I worked at Mission Cancer Center we walked past the gift shop window. There hung a t-shirt that stopped me in my tracks. Printed on the front was everything I needed to know about cancer. I know some medical facts about cancer. I don't understand much of it. I have an oncologist that presumably knows all he can know about my cancer. That's his job. But, what I learned from the t-shirt is what I need to know and it's this: "Cancer is so limited. It cannot cripple love, it cannot kill friendship, it cannot shatter hope, it cannot shut out memories, it cannot destroy confidence, it cannot eat away peace, it cannot silence courage, it cannot reduce eternal life, it cannot quench the spirit." That's my cancer. And that's your cancer. 

Pat Morton lives in a cabin in the hills of North Carolina with her husband Steve and an assortment of animal friends. She's a native South Carolina girl and a story teller by nature.

What I learned about God's love from a Gay Stranger

The day I picked a young gay man up on the side of the road changed my life. After a half hour ride and an honest conversation I learned something about myself. I was holding on to more spiritual pride than I realized. I also learned something about God. His love can't be quantified and limited the way we as human's try.

The hunger that poured from this young man's lips caused my heart to twist uncomfortably in my chest. The days leading up to our meeting had prepared me to hear what God was trying to teach me. This young man, struggling with his identity and place in life, wasn't an object of pity, he wasn't disgusting, he wasn't an evil to be avoided.

He was the beloved.

That evening, as I processed the conversation we had had, my heart was gripped with the realization that God had brought me into this young man's path as a witness. I could sense the love God was pouring out over his wounded life, the way he was meeting him, calling out to him. God hadn't introduced me to him to set him straight or hone my apologetic skills. God wanted me to stand in wonder at his undaunted love for all of humanity, each person, each one.

I have never been the same since meeting the stranger. He's not a stranger anymore though, I consider him a friend. 

This year I've stood in hurricane force winds, arms and mouth flung open wide in the face of our Father's current of mercy. How can I be the religious zealot, the closet pharisee I was in the past with the display of mercy God has put on in front of my eyes. Or maybe it's that he opened my eyes to the merciful dance he has always been spinning. 

Either way, I can't get my thirst quenched. I want more. I dream bigger, risk more, wrestle my own pride more viciously. 

As the mercy washes over me I'm beginning to lose my appetite for arguing over agenda's and groups of people, conditions and ideologies. A conversation with a stranger changed my perspective, I refuse to point fingers anymore. I prefer to deal in the economy of hearts, and mercy, and love, and who am I. 

I've struggled with spiritual pride my whole life. Only recently have I come to realize that at the core pride is a desire to be worshiped. Considering that reality it seems absurd  that I point out the obvious brokenness and sin of other people, of the insanity of the whole world. That's an argument no one can win.

I love holiness. I believe we were created for order, right perspective, pure relationships, and an understanding of God's sole possession of truth. I believe we were created to live holy lives, drawing others to God. My view of holiness hasn't changed, my view of who is responsible for my holiness has. The best way to display holiness is through serving, not arguing, condemning, or comparing anyone's life to our own.

God's economy of love, this season of mercy, his bending in grace is beyond what I can fathom. But one thing I've learned is not to get in his way. He will have mercy on whom he chooses and extend blessing for generations. Judgement rests with him alone. I can only stand back in wonder!

Some days the world seems mad. In Jesus face I find the answer to the madness. Wherever I can, whenever I can I choose to live in the answer. Mercy for me and mercy for you.

This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again. John 3:16-17 The Message

We don't want Religion

"We don't want religion or rules, we want you Jesus" a friend of mine recently prayed. 

My mouth formed a hearty, "Mmhmm." But my heart lurched in conviction. Is that true? Do I want Jesus more than the safety of rules or an attainable form of religion?

I've been reading through the gospels in The Message lately and one thing that's grabbed my attention is Jesus' assault on religion. Not an affront to holiness, or righteousness, or people, but against an empty measuring of our own goodness by human standards and rules.

I'm reminded of my twenties, I spent a lot of time pursuing Jesus but using the wrong standard to measure by. Conforming to religious rules was a measurement I was comfortable with. It was all born out of fear. If people don't obey the rules things can get out of hand real fast, and we don't want a mess.

But I found I was the one in the box, following the rules created, and the mess of life still wasn't contained. It's understandable to appreciate guidelines and rules. As a child and a young Christian it's how we know what's right and wrong, our understanding is shaped, the world is explained. But rules are for children, not friends, not disciples.

Don't get me wrong I'm not suggesting sin is okay. Evil has no place in the heart of a Jesus lover. But standards govern what we eat, wear, say, do, use, not our hearts.

Freedom is a threat as much to the religious as to the true enemy of our soul's, that old father of lies. Because when grace pries the fingers of religion off of a soul, freedom abounds. Religion is a hard thing to identify, even in our own hearts. I find that an action begun in grace can turn to a law or rule quicker that I can blink.

I think that's why everything must be up for evaluation, regularly. Every motive, every discipline, every program, rule, and action has to be weighed in the balance of grace. In Luke Jesus challenges the religious leaders. Those perfect at keeping the letter, though not the heart, of the law. Is the Sabbath for "helping people or leaving them helpless?" he asked. (Luke 6:9) He asked them to evaluate, in the balance of grace, their practice of keeping the law.

When he challenged them on a rigid doctrine, devoid of life, a kind of righteous slavery they were "beside themselves with anger, and started plotting how they might get even with him." (Luke 6:11)

It's so easy to be caught up in holy action, righteous practice, devoted living and not even realize the heart has gone out of it all. A good test of whether we're pursuing religion or Jesus is how we handle evaluation. If what we do is for the sake of our Beloved we face very little threat of evaluation and will humbly accept questions. However a loud protest and rigid defense of our programs, guidelines, and actions is typically a good indication that it's our own kingdom we're defending, not Jesus'.

If these words tread on your toes don't feel too badly, mine are thoroughly bruised! But isn't it better to endure a little toe stepping as a precaution against finding ourselves "plotting against Jesus"? 

So let's ask ourselves, why do we do the things we do. Are they born of love, or religion?

Can There Be Too Much Mercy?

I have a new obsession. It's the mercy of God. I need it, want it, love it, don't understand it, trip over it. 

The more I stare at the beauty of mercy the more I feel it scrub away the scabs of judgement, stinging my conscious, exposing the new skin of a stripped down pharisee.

Some days I still stumble over the old pattern, tasting the crunch of critical words on my tongue. But it isn't long until I look for the stream of mercy to wash the bad taste from my lips.

It's like an addiction. How far will mercy go? I've dabbled in faith before, believing from my recliner, tucked in the early morning with my stack of devotionals. I've heard of mercy that consumes but doesn't burn up, a mercy that leads out nations. 

I want to see it.

Not from the comfort of my recliner, but from the discomfort of the red light district and divorce court. From the squeeze of the psychiatric ward, and in the challenge of another language. Perhaps, most miraculously of all, I want to see it in the extravagant embrace of a fellowship of Christians who don't skimp on handing it out, because they know they're really handing out life.

My heart quakes at moments when I realize what I've asked. To see God on the move, stretching out a banner of mercy over the nations. My legs could never keep up on such a journey. So I pray I will trust him to carry me. Because I'm determined to see what he's about. I understand the fear of God in a new way now. God is scary in his fierce mercy, there is no one he won't touch, or ask me to touch.

I ask myself, can mercy be too extravagant, can there be too much mercy? The fearful, of which I was one, say yes. I recognize the slip from breathless faith to robust religion. It comes from not looking in the mirror enough. The mirror of God's standard, and recognizing how woefully we measure up, and then the quick intake of breath as we realize that mercy never runs out and it's still here to kiss us hello in the morning. It can bring me to tears in a heartbeat.

And in that heartbeat I realize that lavishing mercy on another woeful beggar can never make me unholy, quite the opposite. Did Jesus lose holiness when a prostitute lavished his feet with her kiss, quite scandalously, in public? No, his glory shone all the more. Mercy, breathing in, pouring out.

Mercy never loses the hard edge of holiness. It makes it attainable.

Jesus was never made less holy by embracing the tax collector, conversing with well women, rubbing shoulders with the possessed, leprous, loud mouthed, riotous, dirty, immoral, or heathen. And he wasn't made holy because he obeyed every law, and observed every holy decree. He was, he is, holy because he is himself. And in the touching of others he wasn't soiled, they were made clean.

Can there be too much mercy? Never! Now is the time for mercy and we should never fear handing it out like water, living water. Because we're made holy by Jesus' presence in us and his presence always brings mercy!

Who are you most afraid of giving mercy to? Who have you received mercy from, did it make a difference? 

Looking for Jesus like a Four Year Old

I've missed posting here lately! I've got so many exciting things going, like this, this, this, and this with a group of ladies, that days have been passing in a whirlwind! I love to imagine calmer times when I can write at a more leisurely pace, but I think for now that's a dream I've spun from the air. So I'll grab these snippets of moments to pour out what fills my heart.

Yesterday my four year old, Maggie, spent much of the day wrapped around my leg, or sitting in my lap, and yet it was not enough. "I want to be with you Mommy," was her constant declaration. I'm embarrassed to confess my annoyance with her. If you're a parent, I imagine you've had those days when you feel you're being loved by an octopus and cannot escape the constantly grabbing arms.

As I prayed for her little heart and wondered what makes people so needy for love and connection, the dots began to connect. If only I pursued God with such fervor. Following him around, "I want to be with you God," face turned up expectantly, arms reached out. He's not a harried, limited mama like me. He has all the time in the world. When we ask, he gives. I think the thing he most likes being asked for, and giving, is himself.

Let's be like the psalmist who cries out, "A single day in your courts is better than a thousand anywhere else!" (Ps 84:10) I want to be with you, God!

Looking for peace, joy, contentment, rest, etc. is like chasing fog with a butterfly net. Those experiences and attributes will allude us. Yet a magic eye of truth pops into view when we search for Jesus, and all these things are added in, a natural by product of the main thing. His presence. The cry, "I want to be with you, God," unlocks more than we can imagine. 

Today let's imitate a four year old, hungry for time with her parent. Let's follow God around, face upturned, crying, "I want to be with you!"

A Broken Christmas

Not Okay

I'm not okay. I hate wrestling with the pain of life at Christmas time. It's supposed to be a season of beauty and wonder, right? I dreamed about Serbia last night. It left a gnawing ache in my heart.

So many things in my life I can't heal, I can't help. I can't heal my own wounds of painful and disappointing years in ministry. I can't heal my Mom's cancer. I have so little strength to help the disabled of Serbia, whom I've come to love.

Instead of boisterous and strong this Christmas I feel sad, weak, vulnerable. I keep shoving those feelings down, I'd rather pretend I'm okay. But I'm not.

If you've read my blog you'll know that I asked God to show me his presence this Christmas season. I suppose I had expected something mysterious and beautiful. Instead, I feel broken. I didn't expect him to take me to a place of vulnerability, dependence, need; but he has.

Instead of fighting it, I'm working on embracing this hard place. It's my gift to Jesus this Christmas, acceptance and trust. I choose to let him into the broken places.

Not Okay Is Why He Came

In my weakness I'm reminded that Jesus did the same for us. He embraced vulnerability, dependence, and ultimately brokenness for our good. What kind of a God would step into our messiness? I'm thankful for his presence in a whole new way this Christmas season. 

I wonder how often I've overlooked other people's pain at the holidays. It's inconvenient and messy to step into broken lives. 

But Jesus has set the example and I'm trusting him to lead the way. Painful days are exactly why God wrapped himself in flesh and came to be with us! If you're hurting join me in inviting God into your painful days. If you are in a strong place look for those around you who are hurting this Christmas to show compassion and love to.

The Word became flesh and blood,

and moved into the neighborhood.

We saw the glory with our own eyes,

the one-of-a-kind glory,

like Father, like Son,

Generous inside and out,

true from start to finish.

John 1:14

I'm resting on the generosity of the God-Man who moved into our messy world, who showed up to save, I hope you are too!

Near

Thoughts race, days swirl, noise abounds; ah, the Christmas season of a pastor's family. As we raced up to the season of holy days observed, just before we jumped in, I asked God to make me aware of his presence this Christmas. I wondered how he would do it. We weren't slowing down as we eased into the fast lane of the season. Decorating, Christmas caroling, gift buying, advent observing, writing, dessert nights, parade attending, movie watching, hot chocolate drinking; so much celebrating, so little time.

I whispered his name, began looking out for his finger prints, sought to prepare my heart with a fresh welcome but still it was the same story. I love "Immanuel", God with us, but it's nothing I haven't heard before. I was curious how he would bring his presence to the forefront.

This last week as I sat tucked into my parents cozy cabin in the Carolina woods I smiled to myself. All of a sudden every holiday tradition and desire this season had become irrelevant in light of my Mom's very serious illness. The whispered Immanuel had become an all out shout. His presence no longer a desire but an urgent necessity. "Oh, that's how he's going to do it," I thought to myself.

The C.S. Lewis quote, "Pain is God's megaphone to rouse a deaf world," has been rattling around my mind. There's nothing like being reminded of our vulnerability to bring into focus our great need of Jesus' sustaining presence. My hunger has deepened, the search intensified, I don't just want to know God's presence with me, I need it. Like air, or I won't survive.

Where do you find yourself as this season whirls about you? Are you hungry for God's presence dwelling with you, wrapped in flesh and beating inside of your very own heart? Are you desperate? Or are you distracted? God has the amazing ability to make his presence relevant to us, usually it's just a matter of time.

"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth." John 1:14

How can I pray for you this season as you rely on Immanuel's presence to satisfy and sustain your heart?

The Nightmare Before Christmas

I didn't see it coming. All of a sudden right in the midst of lights and Christmas carols, shopping and a busy calendar my path has taken a sharp curve. Not a detour. I don't believe in that. God doesn't detour his servants, he leads them, and I'm no less led now than I was before. But goodness, what a jolt.

The dreaded C word has stretched out it's stinking shadow and touched our lives. I found out yesterday that intestinal and liver cancer are stalking my Mom and my heart. Unfortunately it's so severe I'm on my way. I've already started thinking of this year as "The Year of Tears". I don't say that to be morbid. I think it's the reality. Pain comes and it won't be avoided some times.

How do you ever prepare to hear such words? It's a kick in the gut and I'm still reeling. Not because I don't trust God, not because I fear he's looked away, not because I doubt his goodness. I'm reeling because I love her so much and this journey isn't what I would have chosen for her.

There is so much I don't know. But I know enough to know it's serious. I know enough to know that it's time to leave and hope she makes it until I get there. I know enough that even in this grief it is right and good to praise God, so I will. She's at the Emergency Room now and I'm working to get there as fast as I can. Won't you pray with me for her comfort, for God's glory, and our strength. Thank you friends!

“Be still, and know that I am God!

    I will be honored by every nation.

    I will be honored throughout the world.”
The Lord of Heaven’s Armies is here among us;
   the God of Israel is our fortress. 
Psalm 46

Present

Today I have the privilege to kick off the Christmas season by sharing at Stephanie Page's blog. This Christmas she's hosting a series of posts on  how to Live Simply during the holiday season. I love Steph's desire to remember what is important amid the crazy distractions of this life. And what more distracting and hectic time of the year is there than Christmas. Today I'm sharing my thoughts on being present. Won't you hop on over to Steph's blog and join me there as we talk about being present.

How Could I Have Known

I find myself breathless, surrounded by laundry, suitcases, and to do lists. If I knew then what I know now I wonder if I would have risked praying a reckless prayer of abandon. It was easy to pray at the time, from my comfortable bedroom, surrounded by love and hope. "God, show me your heart, teach me what you love, show me what makes you grieve."

How could I have known how seriously he would take that request. I should have known, nothing delights the Father's heart like intimacy, a child drawing near to know and be known. He leaned in and whispered, "redemption." Painting in broad brush strokes he showed vividly my own adoption, once a black-hearted enemy, now a beloved child. 

Why would I think the privilege of knowing infinite love wouldn't come without risk or response? If I had known then that I would be boarding an airplane to fly for hours to a country I don't know, would I have asked the question? Maybe had I known the amazing panorama having Holy Spirit eyes would open up, I would have asked earlier. 

Seeing the suffering of others is overwhelming. I'm counting on a couple of things to keep me from drowning in the pain of other people's loss. I'm not responsible for their pain, I can't take responsibility for their situation or their rescue. It's God that takes responsibility for the orphan and outcast, but he has issued an invitation to his people to participate in the rescue of the lost and broken. That's where you and I fit, in the crook of his heart, the bend of mercy and suffering. He provides the power,the motivation, the mercy. I join in. 

I'm also counting on his love. I don't doubt it, can't be separated from it, that cosmic heartbeat beating for his little ones. I'm counting on his real, bloody love extended to me and extended to the man huddled alone locked in filth and disconnected from reality. I'm counting on the love that upholds me, to heal the child living so deprived of human contact that they are actually afraid of people and of being touched. I believe it's real, a love strong enough to right every wrong. It's the only way I can willingly get on an airplane and fly directly into the darkness.

I'm also seeing Ephesians 2 lift itself off the page into real life. People, living stones, joined together by the same Spirit of love and power. Connecting to form the real life hands and feet, the very body, of Jesus. How could I ever go alone? But I'm not, the Holy Spirit in you connects to the Holy Spirit in me and together we lift a gift of love up to heaven on behalf of our precious Jesus. Every prayer prayed, every gift given, every encouraging word spoken, every hope spilled out links our hearts together and bears fruit. I'm witnessing it and I can't wait to tell you all about the impact it will have on the very least of humanity!

I will try to update here and on facebook as I travel. I'm not sure if I'll be allowed to post pictures of children or not, but I will warn you in the heading if the images are painful and I won't post them directly to facebook. Thank you friends for going with me!

{I'm linking with my friend Ellen for her Writing Prompt on Monday's. Today's prompt, If I Knew Then What I Knew Now. Ellen has been an integral part of my journey to Serbia.}

A Truth I Live By ~ Together

Together, we are his house, built on the foundation of the apostles and the prophets. And the cornerstone is Christ Jesus himself. We are carefully joined together in him, becoming a holy temple for the Lord. Through him you Gentiles are also being made part of this dwelling where God lives by his Spirit. Ephesians 2:20-21

It's hard to have favorites in a work of excellence and beauty, but I would have to say Ephesians is a favorite of mine. God's plan for his people sweeps out in brush strokes that are both intimate and grand. 

How are we made right with the Living God? Through his ancient plan of shed blood for you and me. How are we made holy and fit for eternal union with him? Through the power of his Spirit alive in us. How do we live a life of meaning and power, fulfilling all he intended us to be? Together. 

There is no way around it. Your story, my story, our spiritual maturity are all wrapped up together. People who say they don't need to go to church to know God, and worship him just as well out in the forest haven't read Ephesians. That is not God's plan for his people.

But let's face it. We drive each other crazy. At least sometimes. Is this the only way to have the full empowering of the Holy Spirit? As a community of faith walkers? I believe it is. 

This passage in Ephesians hearkens back to another temple. In the old testament God's glory, his empowering presence dwelt with man, first in the tabernacle and then the temple. His presence was evident, palpable, undeniable, bringing glory to himself and favor to his people. 

That same powerful presence is available to us as well. Certainly the Holy Spirit indwells us individually, but to stop there would be to fall short of God's plan and full blessing. How do we know the fullness of God? How do we see God from every angle and know the rich textures of his character? How are we connected to Jesus, the cornerstone? By being connected with each other.

This is a truth I live by. When the crabby older lady criticizes my parenting, when the pastor's words convict, when relationships challenge my cool, I remember God would have me know him more deeply and become more holy by being connected to them. Being connected to those growing in faith, those who are younger, those who are hurting or confused, those with stronger faith that hold me accountable, is good for both my faith and theirs. 

Of course it's not all difficult, there are plenty of sweet moments, breathtaking aha moments, Holy Spirit resonating moments too as we share our hearts and lives together. Is it challenging to live "joined together"? Absolutely. Is it worth it? Beyond question!

He makes the whole body fit together perfectly. As each part does its own special work, it helps the other parts grow, so that the whole body is healthy and growing and full of love. Ephesians 4:16

So do your part! Let's work together and see the fullness of God dwelling in us so that we are full of love.

{I'm linking up with Ellen Stumbo, whom I am excited to be connected to in faith, for her Monday writing prompt.}

The Key to Blessing ~ Obedience

"This is what the Lord says: Because you have obeyed me and have not withheld even your son, your only son, I swear by my own name that I will certainly bless you. I will multiply your descendants beyond number, like the stars in the sky and the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will conquer the cities of their enemies. And through your descendants all the nations of the earth will be blessed—all because you have obeyed me." Genesis 22:16-18

I read this passage recently and was sobered. I'm afraid so often we take Jesus as an add on in our lives, I've certainly seen it happen in faith communities and on occasion in my own life. But God will have none of that. He's all or nothing. He goes for the heart, he doesn't mess around. 

God demands first place in our affections, our thoughts, our imagination. And he should. Nothing in our life is safe from the altar. But look what happens at obedience. Blessing rained down. And not temporal worldly blessing either, which we are so easily distracted by. No, it's an eternal, sweeping, generational blessing. 

I don't know about you but I want the fruit of my life to multiply "beyond number" I want to conquer the enemy and be a blessing to the nations. All because I've obeyed. 

Do you see the connection here between personal obedience and communal blessing. It's humbling and inspiring. When I obey, God blesses me so that you, my family, my church, my neighbors, Serbia can be blessed. When you obey, God blesses you so that your family, church, and community can be blessed. Amazing!

What would have happened had Abraham turned down God's request of complete faithfulness and obedience? I mean who would have blamed him if he had said, 'you know God when you asked me to leave home I followed, when you asked me to trust you to provide a son I did, I've obeyed you. But now you're taking things too far. We all know killing is wrong and this is my son, so don't even think about it.'

If Abraham had declined to obey, God would have let him. But then we wouldn't consider Abraham the father of the Jewish people or a hero of faith. God would have raised someone else up to bless and be a blessing, he always accomplishes his plan. But Abraham would have missed out.

What about us. Will we decline to obey? Or will we allow obedience to unlock blessing in our own lives and the lives of those around us, even into future generations. I've found the longer I trust Jesus the crazier his requests for obedience seem to become.

How did Abraham obey such an outlandish request from God? How can we? It was by faith that Abraham offered Isaac as a sacrifice when God was testing him. Abraham, who had received God’s promises... reasoned that if Isaac died, God was able to bring him back to life again. And in a sense, Abraham did receive his son back from the dead. (Hebrews 11)

Our obedience rests firmly on the foundation of God's faithfulness to his promises. Do you believe God is faithful, are you willing to find out?

Face the Storm

Enjoying a swim with friends

Preparing for a tropical storm, turned hurricane, is a bit like engaging the broken people around us. You do everything you can to prepare, to shore yourself up, and then stand face to the wind bravely taking on the storm. I made this observation the past weekend as I prepared for Hurricane Isaac and prepared to spend time with an unbelieving neighbor.

I had to call deeply on the reserves of truth I have hidden in my heart as I talked with my neighbor about life. She has no frame of reference for truth. Owns a Bible because I recently gave her one. Has been wounded by people with religious affiliation. And has more questions than answers.

My hair stood back a little from the overdose of information, and pain. I like to think I've seen a few things in my day and I'm not the naive homeschooled teenager I once was. But truth be told I like my comfort zone and haven't strayed too far from the church door. I consider my past a gift but also, if I'm not careful, a handicap.

At first I saw my neighbor as a project. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Bring the heathen into the fold and clean them up? It didn't take long for me to realize that was the lazy way to go about it. I'm a recovering pharisee, mingling too closely with an immoral person, who has more pain than can be easily dragged to church and covered up, got my palms sweaty.

Then the novel idea struck me that perhaps I should love her, and her family, for loves sake and no other. It seems to be working. I offer to take her kids to church, and often they go. I bring food from the church potluck to her house. We talk about Jesus. But I don't pressure her to come to church or commit to anything. I've never read her the Roman's road, or Four Spiritual Laws. Instead I show up. We talk about how life is messy and where is God when there is pain. She asks questions and I ask them back. I tell her I'm praying for her, I hug her kids, I hug her, I tell her I love her and that Jesus does too.

Watching the waves grow at Isaac's approach, Orange Beach

Love doesn't evacuate, it settles in. I stand in the wind and the rain and get buffeted. But I've found it's really not so bad. Actually it's exhilarating. Like driving to the beach to watch the waves grow as the storm approaches. I make sure I have a reserve of Living Water, a Holy power source, in my survival kit. I protect what might get damaged by the storm. And I find that if I'm submitted to the Holy Spirit, her unholiness doesn't effect me, Jesus' holiness in me effects her.

Hurricane Isaac turned out not to be a big deal for us. Some rain, gusty wind, and a few downed branches. Likewise loving a person, even one who is hurt and in need, when done in the power of Christ isn't a big deal. Well, it's a big deal but not for the inconvenience I imagined. It's a big deal to show up and be present, the fragrance of Jesus to one dying, because it's a holy act of love that binds my heart more closely to my Father's heart and to a heart adrift. It also reminds me how necessary God's love is. I've found grace and she's looking, maybe we're not so different.

It's all in the preparation. If I met the storms of life, both literally and figuratively, without the proper provision it could be a completely different outcome. I'm responsible to prepare accordingly. In our lives other's bare the effects of our preparation, they're counting on us.

What do you do to prepare for the tough spots and challenging people of life? What tools do you have in your survival kit?

The Gift of Right Expectation

Yesterday I wrote about not being enough. Not enough to satisfy other people, or accomplish anything on my own really. Only Jesus is enough to satisfy and to overcome our weaknesses. 

Today I'm wondering, do we allow Jesus to be enough for others as well? Grace let's others off the hook. It is a right expectation that they can never be enough to satisfy or fulfill us. Grace says, your weaknesses are covered by Jesus' righteousness. Grace has orderly expectations of God and of people. 

I'm not saying we don't hold other Christ followers accountable to a righteous life. And I'm not saying that we don't desire those living in sin to be reconciled to God.

I'm saying we live out our relationships with others, even the hard parts of confrontation and restoration, with a heart remembering that we ourselves are not enough. Expecting others to be enough to get it right all the time, please God in their own strength, and never disappoint us, is unwise and unkind. 

I think that may be what God meant when he inspired Proverbs 16:18. "Pride goes before destruction,  a haughty spirit before a fall." He hates it when his children, whom he saved when they couldn't save themselves, forget their humble beginnings and deal harshly with others. When we expect others to be enough we're saying we can be perfect ourselves, which is a lie, and God opposes that lie in our lives for our own liberation.

I have to confess, I have struggled for years with this. But God has faithfully been stripping away spiritual pride. Of course I'm disappointed when leaders don't lead, peers stumble, those who should know better don't. But the reason I'm disappointed has changed. Instead of being offended by the short comings of others, it's my love for Jesus' bride that desires the health and well being of it's members.

I've lived too long with the proverbial plank in my eye, running around pointing out others specks, their not enoughness. But I don't think the size of the sin is the issue in that teaching, I think the ownership is. Our own issues should be foremost in our lives, our sin, our obedience is our primary responsibility. It's not that we aren't supposed to assist others with their own speck. It's that we need to deal with our junk, recognize in humility the that we have junk, and remember it's a privilege to assist others with their messiness.

Not an easy task, to admit we are not enough and allow others that same freedom. But what a liberating way to live; our eyes on Jesus, trusting his righteousness for us all. Our devotion in prayer for the church body and our families, our gift of forgiveness, our hopeful expectation, are all evidence of faith in the One who is enough for us all.

Ephesians 5:1-2, "Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God."

Is it harder for you to accept weakness in yourself or in another? Ask God to help you extend life giving grace today.

Enough

I wrote this post on Tuesday but Lisa-Jo at The Gypsy Mama prompted us to write about ENOUGH for our Five Minutes this Friday. So I'm linking this post up with her. It's more than five minutes and not written on Friday but it's the best I've got for - Enough:

I am not enough. Not strong enough, smart, pretty, kind, or good enough. I am not enough to avoid disappointing you. I am not enough to please you. I am not enough to raise my kids or accomplish my dreams. I am not enough to satisfy my husband.

And it feels good to say so.

I'm thankful to admit it. The expectation of being enough is like shackles dragging as I shuffle through my days when I try to carry that heavy burden. I turn on everything around me, pugnacious and resentful. Wishing I could fool you and myself into believing I am what I'm not. Working to hide what I don't want anyone to see. Hiding that I'm not enough.

But it's better to beat life to the punch. I choose to lay down the mask. Stop the charade. Confess before I can be accused. I am not enough. It's what scares me every day, when I let it. What if. 

What if I'm not enough to go to Serbia, what if I'm not enough to publish a book. What if I'm not enough to homeschool my kids. What if I'm not enough to be a good neighbor, friend, wife. What if my worship isn't enough. What if I'm not enough.

What if I'm not enough to please God. Isn't that what I'm really saying? And of course I'm not enough which is the point of Jesus' holy life offered in exchange for my broken one. "Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit," John 19:30. I have absolutely nothing I can add to that statement or that precious final payment.

All that's left for me now is to put on the righteousness of Jesus like a garment that covers up my not enoughness. And then live in it. I may not be enough but he certainly is. Galatians 2:20, "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

I am not enough. Really. Are you? Are you tired of trying to be enough? Then slip on the righteousness of Jesus offered freely for you, you'll have to let go of all of yourself to take hold of it, but really it's worth it.

Singed

Sometimes I twist and turn in my skin, like a baby fighting to be born, I shove my head out into the icy air of faith and gulp.

The terror that stalks me is to have lived a life that didn't matter. Too safe, too soft, too boring. An innocuous existence without power. Will words leave my lips, drip from my fingers, into oblivion? Or will they, like blood, pump through the hearts of lovers who have heard and listened? Will their alphabet be infused by power from the One true Word?

Will passion flame up only to flicker and die out unspent, never having warmed another heart? Will good intentions become crusted over regrets, ugly like a scab?

This following God thing isn't easy. My ears twitch and pick up every discordant sound. The tv hawking it's pleasures, my body fighting death, opinions casting doubt. Through it all the voice that's sweeter, and never silent, sings His song.

I'm still praying for my neighbors to come to Jesus but that first excitement of witnessing truth into their lives has turned into the heavy plod of everyday love. Church life with all of it's complexities and baggage of real life people grinds on. I will always love my Savior's bride, but I wonder if I will ever get over the sorrow that she acts more like a toddler pitching a fit than a gracious young woman destined for greatness.

And Serbia, oh Serbia. She haunts me and I can't get her out of my mind. News of her is like the heart jump of a father, pacing the delivery room, waiting for the birth of a child. Why do I love Serbia? I can't fully know. One day I asked God to give me a love for the things he loves, I can only imagine such an obsession was born from that prayer, I could never dream such craziness up on my own.

Behind the scenes God is working and I'm listening. I received the name and contact information of an institution in Serbia with children needing love. I also heard good news, the most notorious institution in Serbia is moving children out of it's old buildings, only immobile people over 18 will remain. But they remain. Even though I've seen their names, and feel the river sweeping me along, at moments I still pause.

Have I heard right? Where will the money come from? Am I really needed? Why a task so large? Yet I'm so hungry for touching the greatness of God. I want to know his power can overshadow a need I can't meet on my own. I want to smell the smoke of His presence as it singes away selfishness and leaves holy love.

I remind myself I'm in good company. Moses stood at a bush that burned with holy fire, God's very presence, and stammered a whiny excuse. Good intentions melted in the heat of reality. But he obeyed and God provided. On the long dessert journey, with sand in his beard and a troublesome people trailing behind him, he became the friend of God.

The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend...Then the Lord came down in the cloud and stood there with him and proclaimed his name, the Lord. And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation.” Moses bowed to the ground at once and worshiped. “Lord,” he said, “if I have found favor in your eyes, then let the Lord go with us. Although this is a stiff-necked people, forgive our wickedness and our sin, and take us as your inheritance.” Exodus 33:11 and 34:5-9

The God who loved Moses loves me. Certainly the circumstances are different, the need pales in comparison, but the love is identical. I pray on my journey that I become the friend of God, I'm certainly his child, but I want to become his friend.

What about you? Have you been singed?

Love Matters ~ The Heart of it All

I wrote a post this week entitled Unity Matters- A Match Made in Heaven about the importance of marriage. I believe marriage matters because everything God ordains or creates has value. Today, I say people matter. Does anything have value and touch God's heart as dearly as people? I don't think so. He is a great lover.

So while marriage matters, and the church matters they are not ends in and of themselves any more than I believe grace is. Because it's all about unity and God is looking for people to unite to his heart and to become part of his family. Marriages and churches are servants, they are servants of people, because people matter.

In my last post I told a story, a figurative story. Today I'm going to tell a real one and it's loose ended and in the making. Here goes:

Once upon a time a young woman felt compelled to ask God, "show me your heart, I want to know what you love, what matters to you." And he answered. God began showing her his plan to unify people to himself and each other. And he started teaching her about love. A robust, purifying, enduring love; not sappy and flat. He peeled back a layer of life and showed her that his heart beat for the broken. First revealing hidden children, outcasts and abused, orphaned and disabled. Then he made her squirm. He clearly showed her his love for someone unexpected.

It happened one morning when she least expected it (this Tuesday) and it took her breath away. After hours of conversation with loved ones, soul searching, and bible searching; brought on by North Carolina's Marriage Amendment vote. After an online and real life whirlwind of debate and feeling like the world was turning upside down and what is the church coming to anyway kind of week, she was feeling raw. Wrestling truth had left her limping. Driving down the road that morning God told her to turn around and pick up a lonely road walker. She argued, God insisted, she obeyed.

A conversation ensued. Strangers talked about the hard reality of life, new cars, a dead father, and hand lotion. God came up, the young man was searching. She asked, "Do you have a church? Why not visit ours?" He said that would be nice, he was looking for new direction and better friends. He said he had prayed for help that morning. As they parted ways the young man leaned in close and asked. "Can someone like me, you know, gay, come to your church?"

What would you have said?

The question still rings in her heart. She responded "God loves you. Of course you can come." 

But that wasn't good enough. "I'm not worried about God's love," he replied. 

She got it, it wasn't God's love he was doubting, it was hers. "I believe that the Bible is true and that God is holy. But only God can convict us of sin, not people. We would love to have you," she answered. 

Before he left he reached out for her hand. She said "You know God told me to turn around and come back. God cares about you." And they moved, self consciously toward each other, because God was drawing them.

She pulled onto the highway and wanted to weep and laugh at once. God had pulled a stunt no magician could. He had brought her low and lifted himself up, he had reminded her that he loves the pharisee and broken alike, he made her the answer to a young man's prayer. One she would have said God doctrinally wasn't obligated to listen to or answer. But God had reminded her he wasn't obligated by her views of doctrine. She was convinced she had seen the love of God being poured out and it wasn't what she had expected. 

The next day she got a phone call. It was the stranger turned friend asking for a ride to church. 

My view of marriage remains in tact. However, I'm afraid my view of people, and of love, hangs in tatters. My pride is being laid low and God's love has coursed through my life like a tornado. I'm convinced of one thing. The only person's holiness I'm responsible for is mine. I am, however, indebted to love everyone.

So, what was a distant and theoretical conversation has become a real life crash coarse in love. "Can someone like me come to your church?" I will never be the same.

(By the way this song was playing on the radio when I drove past the road walking stranger, that's when I turned around)

Unity Matters ~ A Match Made in Heaven

"Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her  to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church— for we are members of his body. "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband." Ephesians 5:25-33

God has been teaching me about unity lately (I've written several posts on that topic in the last few months. You can read three of them here and here and here.) Lately, I've been pondering God's picture to us of unity in marriage. I'm compelled to probe God's call to be united to him and I'm intrigued by the "profound mystery" that he communicates to us about unity in marriage. Let me begin by telling a story:

Once upon a time a good man; a man of character and fortune, a man of excellent reputation and wisdom, a man of authority, of royalty, asked a common, shamed, foreign woman to marry him. Her response was an affectionate but flighty, “Yes. But only on my own terms, I want to keep my old habits, my own hours and friends, dirty up the mansion, remain unrefined and by the way keep a few boy friends on the side.” She was the worst kind of fool. He set his terms; an exclusive relationship. She refused. But he was patient; he overcame her fears and payed off her debts. Eventually she came to love him and realize the worth he was offering to her. She woke up from her stupor, realized her pitiful state, and embraced the love of her generous suitor, too thankful to be ashamed.

Will we embrace the proposal of such a groom as Jesus or in return for his gracious payment of our sin debt will we flaunt our sin and other lovers in his face? God offers his church transformation, to be made into a radiant bride. A commoner turned princess couldn't undergo a more complete makeover and yet so often we as people and churches insist on remaining a filthy tramp as long as we can get our hands on some of the good stuff like grace, mercy, forgiveness, and oh yeah, love. The problem is the bride is operating under a lie; mercy doesn't come without repentance, or grace without humility.

And the most shocking thing of all? The bride has missed out on the greatest of the wedding gifts, union. The Prince has offered to make her in every reality one with himself, sharing his title, his status, his power, authority and wealth in every way. He's willing to hand over the signet ring for her to use in his name. Love, mercy, and grace aren't an end in themselves they are a means to an end, they are the nature and method in which complete union takes place. But these are the terms; the tramp must transform into a princess. He's willing to pay for the transformation, but she has to agree to it.

God has, from the moment of creation, gifted us with the picture of unity through marriage. The image of a bride and her Husband has been painted from Genesis to Revelation. Understanding the significance of being united with God illuminates the high value of marriage, likewise the union of marriage points back to the gracious gift of Jesus' union with the church. God structured a man and woman's relationship with each other to best reflect his character to us.

Thankfully purity is not a prerequisite of our union with Jesus, but it is a hallmark of it. Jesus knows exactly who he is offering himself to be united to; sinners. He's not shocked and his love is not overwhelmed. He offers himself to make his chosen one pure. His blood, his own righteousness, is the purifying agent. Jesus draws his bride to himself and away from other lovers, making her holy, which essentially means set apart for his own purpose. But then, once she is clean and has accepted the terms of his marriage proposal, he expects purity. And he should, it's only fitting. 

Why is the picture of marriage so sacred? Because nothing on earth depicts the union of Jesus to his beloved bride, the church, like a husband and wife do. Unity is the crux of the gospel and I wonder if we regularly miss the significance of that. I know I have. At the heart of God, at the heart of humanity, at the heart of relationship, at the heart of the gospel, at the heart of the bible, at the heart of the New Heaven and the New Earth (our eternal home, Rev. 21) is unity. At the fall unity with God and each other was broken, at the cross it was restored, in heaven it's consummated. "He made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times reach their fulfillment —to bring unity to all things in heaven and on earth under Christ." Ephesians 1:9-10

One day Jesus will sit down to feast with his bride at his wedding banquet. To have the Creator of the universe, the holy eternal God willingly offer to make us one with him is a scandalous grace. But he never said we could come on our terms, he expects full and total surrender. His love is a willingness to transform and redeem at a high cost to himself. His gift is generous beyond comprehension and available if we are willing to die to our own glory and live for his alone. What a joyful people we should be, united to our Beloved, loved beyond what we can even comprehend!

Let's consider how we can honor our marriages as the holy picture of divine unity that they are. Our hungry, fainting world needs the hope such truth can provide. 

Five Minute Friday: Identity

It's Five Minute Friday time where I link up with other Gypsy Mama friends and we write what's on our heart. If you want to join in hop on over and give it a try. Today's prompt is: Identity.

Go:

I've identified myself many ways over the years, labels have come and gone. Thin, daughter, pretty, smart, big mouth, energetic, dogmatic. As I've grown I shed some labels as a lizard sheds too tight skin and put on new ones. Wife, mother, dieter, worshiper, southerner. I've grown in to other labels unexpectedly. Mentor, writer, teacher. I've tried to squeeze into identities that weren't my size. Holy Spirit, leader, hero.

Through it all the Word and the Holy Spirit have stripped off those identities and labels and scrubbed me clean. I hear God's voice naming me. I'm surprised by what he says and fight his name for me, unbelieving and incredulous. I've gotten used to the voice in my head and the voice of the world telling me who I am. But I grow weary of the fight and learn to trust his voice. Unsuited, I'm astonished to find a crimson seal across my heart, etched with one word. BELOVED.

Stop

We're good at throwing around labels. Branding people and ourselves; sometimes categorizing people we're afraid of, other times setting people up with god like expectations. One label I've come to be wary of is Christian. It's easy to slap the label Christian on someone or something. I've heard some of the oddest statements made in the name of Christianity. I don't want to label myself as a Christian anymore, anyone can do that. I'd rather call myself something a little more awkward, something narrow and unavoidably clear. How about bond-servant of Jesus? Or what about disciple of Jesus, maybe sinner ransomed by God, or member of the holy priesthood of Jesus Christ? How we define ourselves affects how we behave, similarly how we define others affects how we expect them to behave. I want to define myself by and behave according to the word of God. The Israelites applied the blood of the passover lamb to the doorposts of their home, warding off the angel of death, and walked out of bondage into freedom as the people of God. Similarly the blood of The Lamb, applied in faith to the doorway of my heart, enables me to walk in freedom, from death to life, as a child of God.

How do you identify yourself? Have you allowed the expectations of others, or maybe yourself, to define you? God has a label he wants to put on you and it's the only one that matters!

Adventures in Gardening ~ Inviting

My Garden is pretty. It's welcoming and fresh and green. Things are blooming and happening. Each day something is bigger and more ripe than before. The herbs smell and taste wonderful.

Last night before church the children gathered to look at the garden, oohing and aahing over the growing things We live in the parsonage so children spill out into our yard, the line between home and church blurring, which I love. I told them which plant was what and they were excited about the squash almost ready to pick. I broke off a leaf from different herbs, told them the names, and let them smell their distinct fragrance.

My garden attracts bees and people, birds and butterflies. It's lovely and orderly and alive. Do we, growing things that we are, attract people to the garden of our lives, our families, our churches?

Before church last night I stood in the driveway talking to a neighbor. A young woman with fears, vague memories of a few childhood visits to church, and a hunger for something more than she knows now. As the children swarmed around the garden, she flitted around me, asking questions, hoping, crying. In the last two weeks her children have started crossing the street into our world and joining us for church. She was afraid they were an imposition distracting me from what was important. She doesn't want to disturb "the good thing" we have here and is afraid her family doesn't dress or behave formally enough.

I spoke to her fears as best I could. Seeking to ease and invite. I told her what church is for; we're for her, for her kids, for loving, not for rules or fancy, we're for people. And I told her she was welcome. That God loves her and she matters, that I know life is hard, that I'm here to listen if she needs to talk, that God loves her and Jesus has made a way. She cried and I told her I'm praying. And then I took her children and fed them and smiled at them and her shy little boy rewarded me with a rare grin.

Gardens are for feeding people and adding beauty. Does the garden of our life invite others in, to linger and be nourished, to have life, and be sustained? Is our life an invitation?