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Sometimes I still think of this little piece of the web is as quiet and all mine as it was sixteen years ago. Back then I knew exactly who my reader was because she was the only one. I have found one of the best disciplines for me in writing to be that of knowing my audience—and these days that audience changes often and is thousands more than one, which can make it hard to know them. Sometimes she is a stay at home mom. Sometimes a pastor wanting to shepherd women. Sometimes a friend. Sometimes a stranger. Sometimes a single. Sometimes a poet. Sometimes a priest. I am unsure of whether that makes my readers the chameleon or if I am the chameleon.

Sometimes I open messages from people saying things like I am their new best friend or kindred spirit and I think, this is the price and gift of writing with my heart on my sleeve. Thousands of people think they know me, and maybe you do.

I think we are too protective of our stories, though justifiably so. Sticks and stones and names and bones—people do have the power to hurt you, never mind what my grandmother told me in the attic of her Cape May house when I was five. My lip was quivering because I wanted to believe what she said, but also, I had been hurt and didn’t that matter too? Of course it did and she gave me a strawberry candy, and put the conch shell to my ear so I could hear the ocean and forget about the names I’d been called.

Paul said in whatever situation he has learned to be content, and I think some of that contentment came from understanding the story he was telling wasn’t his own, but his Savior’s. Contentment comes easier when we aren’t comparing and contrasting. But who has time for that these days? Everyone has an opinion or wants an opinion.

Thank you for joining (if you did) along on this week’s series about challenges for the newly married. I knew I was writing to a particular demographic, but was encouraged by the few unmarried and long-marrieds who read as well. I’m also grateful to my husband for being the sort of man who trusts me to write about these things and never reads over my shoulder. He tells people he wants to minister with the grace he’s been given and my heart bursts because that sort of humility is hard to come by and usually comes by discipline that hurts.

A few weeks ago I read Shanna Mallon quote Tish Harrison Warren’s post on Courage in the Ordinary and have been meaning to share it since then. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did.

I find it hard to come by good new poetry online, but John Blase is a constant feed to that void. America’s Tomorrow was poignant and I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

Here was a great little piece on how we ought to be like Sherlock as Christians.

Wesley Hill wrote a long-form piece on Jigs for Marriage and Celibacy: you can’t die to yourself by yourself. Make yourself a cup of tea and settle in for it. It’s a good one.

Also, because so many people asked after my Instagram post, Grove Collaborative has a cool little thing where if you click on this link you get $10 off your first order and I get $10 off my next order. My husband said, “It’s like a pyramid scheme without the pyramid or the scheme. A win-win.” He’s right. We love Grove and order all our cleaning supplies from them quarterly (which, if you know me and how many lengths I will go to to avoid shopping in an actual store, is a game-changer). This is our latest loot and they always throw in free things (we got free soap and free dish-towels on this order).

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If you missed any of this week’s series on Challenges for the Newly Married, here’s a quick list:

Intro to the series
Making New Friends, Keeping the Old Ones
Choosing Churches
Sleep, Schedules, and Sleep Schedules
Two Becoming One

 

I hope your Thanksgiving was lovely and full, if not of food, then of love. And if not love, then food, which is a kind of love too. Before I got married I thought often married people had a built in presence of love, a constant reminder that they were loved and known and kept. But living life forward is meant to teach us about what has passed under us, not about what comes in front of us, or as the philosopher said, “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” I wish I hadn’t thought that holidays were harder for me as an unmarried person than they would be as a married person. The truth is both have beauties and both have challenges.

In many ways my holidays or birthdays or other celebrations were richer and fuller when I was single, and that’s partially because we are far from those we love and are loved by most. But in other ways it is because we are in the infancy of our marriage, growing and bending and breaking in new traditions. I love everything to do with celebrating others, giving gifts, and making every holiday special and unique, but the husband God gave me cares more about the every day of our lives, rhythms and routines of life, discipline, the predictable motions of the week and weekend. I crave New! and Special! He clings to solid and faithful. For us, holidays and special days have actually been hard to learn how to do well, how to serve one another in, and how to not feel hurt when things don’t go as hoped. They are actually just as painful as the feeling of aloneness I had in singleness, not more or less. And I wonder if this is the case for more of my married sisters, particularly the newly married ones.

I’ve had a few conversations with some of my newly married sisters (within the past two years) in recent months and been surprised that though we may be all over the place in terms of age, work, location, etc., we have some very similar struggles. My heart has grown burdened for this demographic and I’ve wanted to talk about it more on Sayable, but feared losing readers who are further ahead in the journey of marriage and think it is over-reactive, or those readers who long for marriage and for whom reading one more post on the struggles of those who have what they want would be painful. But the more I’ve thought and prayed about it, the more I’ve decided I think it’s important, so next week I’ll be writing on a few things that affect us in our newly married-ness. I hope you are encouraged, whatever season of life you’re in.

Here are some things I read this past week and wanted to share:

Neither a Republican nor a Democrat. Words from Mark Dever, pastor of Capitol Hill Baptist Church in D.C. on the Sunday after the election to his church, made of both Republicans and Democrats.

The Challenge in Praying with your Spouse. Nate and I have found we love to pray for and with one another, and yet rarely do it together. This article challenged me to do it more.

Friday Night Meatballs. The seasons of life where a weekly dinner has been a part it, have been some of the best times of community in my life. I got to know Nate during one of those weekly dinners. A total win in my book.

Ten Spurgeon Quotes for Wounded Christians. It is a comfort to me a thousand times over that this giant in faith struggled so deeply with the same besetting wrestle I have.

Why Read a Poem at a Time Like This. More of us should make the reading of poetry a part of our everyday, especially at times when the news from every angle threatens to push us over the edge. Poetry grounds us and reminds us.

One of my favorite things to do when I was small was to page through photo albums and ask my parents about the photos in it. One of the sad things about this new digital age we live in, is we’re less likely to print photos for keepsake books. Chatbooks is a great way to do this. Whenever we get a new one in, Nate (who isn’t on social media) sits down with it and pages through each photo and caption, reading, laughing, and remembering. Your kids will probably do the same. These cost the same as a roll of film cost back in the day, and you get to curate each book to your liking. A total win in my book.

chatbooks

I had promised myself to post more here these days. To be a hunter of beauty and a finder of joy in a season where everywhere we look are reminders of fracturing and fragility. I don’t really believe that, though, I think. Lately I’ve been reminded of how whole and perfect and beautiful things are and are becoming. Staying away from the angry articles and interviews and response blogs and angry response blogs and retweeted tweets is helpful for that though. Eternity really is written on the hearts of men, but I guess sometimes we think hell is eternity and not heaven. I’ve been grateful for heaven this past week.

I went home and on my way there I sent a text to Nate: “Where is home for you?” I asked. “If there’s anywhere in the world that feels, smells, tastes like home, where is that, for you?” He responded a bit later. “Virginia or D.C., I thought, but now that we’re here, it doesn’t. Maybe Germany. Not Turkey. Not New Jersey. Not Michigan. Not Georgia. Maybe Texas, I lived there the longest. What about you?” I wasn’t sure how to answer but as I continued to drive north and the bite of cold worked its way into my bones and the leaves grew more and more brilliant, I knew it was here, or at least here was the way to home. Eternity is written on our hearts, but earth is worked into our soles, embedded there with soil and leaves and tastes and scents of home. And so, I went home for a few days and it was lovely. New York in the fall always is.

While I was there I made it my aim to spend time with two women I love and with whom my time is always too short when I stop there for a few days. We had good conversations and talked about hard things. Mostly they talked and I listened but I felt my heart swell with love for both of them. And I also felt it swell with the kind of admiration I want to have for more people and don’t. They are walking through hard, hard, hard things and doing it well. Broken, sad, hurting, questioning, but this is the kind of well I think more of us need to draw from. The deep and aching sob of hurt reaches down past the normalcy of everyday, the kinds of days full of predictable nonsense and unexpected joy. These wells are deeper than that and rare to find. I think of the book of Psalms, the 84th chapter:

Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Baka,
they make it a place of springs;
the autumn rains also cover it with pools.
They go from strength to strength,
till each appears before God in Zion.

The valley of Baka, or Baca, means the valley of tears, and another translation says, “They make it a place of wells.” This is what tears do, if we’ll let them. They pool in us deep caverns of proven grace, proven character, and a proven God, and they become wells. Spring rains bring life and flowers and greens everywhere, but autumn rains pull the dead and dying leaves from their stark trees, making dead things seem deader. But the poet said once, “Be like the trees. Let the dead things drop.”

The dead things, I find, for me these days, are feelings of shame, fear, uncertainty. It has been a rocking year, one I would never repeat if offered prizes of greatest worth. Shame has been my constant enemy and fear its close neighbor, tears have felt at times like my only friend. But if I can just let this valley of tears pool itself into wells, I know there is sustenance to be found there. I believe it with all my heart.

. . .

I was glad to arrive at the weekend with no knowledge of any election news, no interviews with famous Christian women, and a naive belief that God was repairing and preparing this world instead of breaking it. I dipped my toe into the latest for a minute, but found the well of my tears a better pool to swim in these days. Here are some beautiful things I’ve read this week:

From John Blase (whose poetry you should be reading, and whose letters to Winn you should also be reading):
I’ll never forget that rainy day
I wore my Scout uniform to school
not knowing our meeting was cancelled.
Those were halcyon days before
group text messages and reverse 911s.

From Cloistered Away: Training sounds like such an intense word, but all it is: reestablishing the order and peace of the home. The goal isn’t to lead perfect lives; it’s to heed the red flags as helpful guides letting us know some things need to change. Today always offers a fresh start and new mercy. When life feels chaotic, here is what we do to cultivate peace in our home again.

From Literary Hub: Writing is facing your deepest fears and all your failures, including how hard it is to write a lot of the time and how much you loathe what you’ve just written and that you’re the person who just committed those flawed sentences (many a writer, and God, I know I’m one, has worried about dying before the really crappy version is revised so that posterity will never know how awful it was). When it totally sucks, pause, look out the window (there should always be a window) and say, I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing.

This quote from George Eliot in her Letters to Miss Lewis keeps going round and round in my head. I read it many years ago think of it every autumn. I hope you love this season as much as I do, and if you don’t, I hope someday you do. Just because, no reason, just because. Below is a photo I took at home. I stood there and was reminded me of her Delicious Autumns.

Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love – that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

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I know people have lots of opinions on “social media fasts,” but here’s what we know and are coming to know more: our souls are fragile things. Not the eternity kind, the kind that stays forever with Christ the King in the new heaven and new earth—those souls are eternally secure. But the earthly soul we carry around with us in our tent, the kind that is prone to wander, to weep, and to wonder. The soulish part of us that is so affected by things like the seasons or how much protein or sleep we’re getting or the poem we just read or the poem we wish we could write or person who won’t pay attention to us or the crowds we pay attention to—that part of us is the soul of which I write. Ours were wilting under elections news and Whole 30 recipes and CNN and theological how-tos and how-not-tos. We found it time for a break for our family.

This morning, after being off Facebook and Twitter for the better part of the week, I found myself delighting in a poem I read this morning and a book about maps and this quote from Madeleine L’Engle’s Walking on Water:

It is interesting to note how many artists have had physical problems to overcome, deformities, lameness, terrible loneliness. Could Beethoven have written that glorious paean of praise in the Ninth Symphony if he had not had to endure the dark closing in of deafness? As I look through his work chronologically, there’s no denying that it depends and strengthens along with the deafness. Could Milton have seen all that he sees in Paradise Lost if he had not been blind? It is chastening to realize that those who have no physical flaw, who move through life in step with their peers, who are bright and beautiful, seldom become artists. The unending paradox is that we do learn through pain (pg. 67)

I have felt that deeply in this season. There is something in all the pain of this year that God wants to teach me if I will press myself into it and not away from it and that paradoxical way of life is, as I said a few days ago, antithetical to our nature. It is, in a sense, super-natural, above nature, and only empowered by the Spirit of God alive in us. For the atheist pressing himself into pain is masochistic, but for the Christian, it is following in the steps of their Savior. The world tells me to pull away from pain and sometimes the Church tells us to live our best self now, to also pull away from pain. But the Bible says, “He who will gain His life must lose it,” and if we believe the Bible, that is the phrase we cling to in the darkest time, seeing what art God may build of our shambles.

. . .

Here are a few things I read this week that I loved and hope you might too:

From Mary Oliver: But just as self-criticism is the most merciless kind of criticism and self-compassion the most elusive kind of compassion, self-distraction is the most hazardous kind of distraction, and the most difficult to protect creative work against. How to hedge against that hazard is what beloved poet Mary Oliver explores in a wonderful piece titled “Of Power and Time,” found in the altogether enchanting Upstream: Selected Essays.

From my friend Danica: You’re stuck at home. You’re not doing anything fun with your life. You can barely play through a Chopin waltz! You’re always saying No to people — don’t you think they have a low opinion of you? And so on and so on. But I am learning, and it is this: Every time I am haunted or taunted by all of the “NOs” in my life, I remember — those are simply the result of a huge, resounding Yes!

From a link I found while unfollowing 200 Instagram accounts this week: Then I grabbed another Pop-Tart (frosted strawberry this time), unfollowed all the food bloggers and world travelers and muscular princesses, and went on a hunt for regular moms with a beautiful eye. You guys? It’s been life-changing. It does what social media is supposed to do – bring us together. When I scroll through Instagram, I feel part of a community, even if they don’t know I’m there.

And here are two verses from a passage of scripture I’ve been thinking about this week, as I pray for myself and pray for my friends:

The Lord makes poor and makes rich;
he brings low and he exalts.
He raises up the poor from the dust;
he lifts the needy from the ash heap
to make them sit with princes
and inherit a seat of honor.
For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s,
and on them he has set the world.
I Samuel 2:7-8

I hope your weekend is rich, full, and emptied of the things that steal your eyes from Him. I will be spending my weekend enjoying being back in a place with beautiful autumn colors, like these we saw yesterday on our way to a hike in a nearby forest.

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It’s been a long, long time since I’ve done a weekly Link Love. Life got a bit in the way, and also social media (where I find most of my links) got a bit infuriating. Life is still in the way and social media can be as infuriating as ever, but I still come across gems and I still want to share them with you.

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This talk from Andrew Wilson on gender and intersex. Andrew is asking the question here: “How should we respond to people whose experience of their gender doesn’t fit with their biological sex? Or who have taken measures to change it? Or whose biological sex is unclear? What does love look like?”

This article from Cosmopolitan on an alternative to Planned Parenthood. “There’s this pressure that women have to go on the birth control pill. I have to tell you, it’s a very empowering when you realize, ‘I don’t have to put that synthetic hormone in my body. I don’t have to be chained to the birth control pill,'” she said. “There’s a movement of people for whom the birth control pill isn’t organic, it’s not green, it’s not holistic. We think we’re going to fill another niche or a gap that’s lacking, actually, at clinics like Planned Parenthood.”

This piece by Ron Belgua in the aftermath of the Orlando shooting. I have, in the past, complained about the apparent allergy among conservative Christians to looking at the faces of LGBT people. In talking to friends, I am not the only one who has perceived a gap in the way Christians have responded to other tragedies, and the way they have responded to this one.

This article on Christianity Today about friendships in the world today. There’s good news and bad news. The bad news is that friendship in adulthood is harder than it looks. Long-term friendships are a rarity. The reason is that they take work. Most of the time something else becomes a priority, either out of necessity or out of choice. As a result, I go back to dropping the bar of expectation. It doesn’t mean I don’t want good, genuine friends, but it does mean that I can’t necessarily assume that because I have all the right ingredients it’s going to happen.

This from Nicholas McDonald on eight different ways your marriage could function. And because we are complementation, I “won out” in the end: I asserted her desires over mine.

Do Women Look at Pornography?

But if I Preach Christ in Every Text:
Christ crucified is the central point, in which all the lines in evangelical truth meet and are united. There is not a doctrine in the Scriptures but what bears an important relation to it. Would we understand the glory of the divine character and government? It is seen in perfection in the face of Jesus Christ. Would we learn the evil of sin, and our perishing condition as sinners? Each is manifested in his sufferings. All the blessings of grace and glory are given us in him, and for his sake.

Seven Ways We Can Guard and Protect Relationships:
Let’s judge ourselves, even as we give each other the benefit of the doubt. Matthew 7:5 says, “First take the log out of your own eye.” And 1 Corinthians 13:7 says, “Love believes all things.” In other words, love fills in the blanks with positive assumptions.

She’s Your Collaborator, Not Your Competition:
This biblical perspective obliterates all the bad advice that’s ever been given to single adults. An accomplished woman is a blessing. This passage, written by a wise king, nearly shouts at us, “If she is supposed to be your wife, then she’s your collaborator, not your competition! All those accomplishments could be your gift in marriage.”

Fear and Faith:
Women, gather for a panel discussion about Trillia Newbell’s new book, Fear and Faith, living in a fallen world and following the One who is sovereign over all. Join Trillia Newbell, Jani Ortlund, Kristie Anyabwile, Jen Wilkin, Catherine Parks, and Lindsay Swartz (moderator) for a candid conversation on the fears women often struggle with and the trust found in the character of God.

The truth is that the majority of the 20- and 30-something women in our churches feel this way, too. They may be attending regularly, but they are sitting quietly back out of respect and uncertainty. They wrestle with whether they fit in the church at all anymore.

The warm glow of candlelight is hygge. Friends and family — that’s hygge too. And let’s not forget the eating and drinking — preferably sitting around the table for hours on end discussing the big and small things in life.

So expect to stumble, I tell my son. It’s a sign you’re making progress up the hill. What I don’t tell him, because I think he has to learn this on his own, is how warranted is this fear and trembling. Be careful what you pray for, child. Have a care. There is no grace worth having that comes cheap. These bones are a temple being swept clean and some of them will be scourged.

Every year I take some time away at the beginning of the year to reflect on the previous year and pray over the coming year. I’ve been doing this for the past five years and it has proven to be one of the most helpful disciplines for me—so much so that I think I probably need to do it quarterly instead of yearly. This year a friend and I rented a cabin a few hours from our home and it was perfect. I printed out several articles I read this month that I wanted to continue mulling over, as well as the list of questions I go through, before I went and I wanted to share them with you here.

. . .

These questions are a compilation of several lists others have created and I curate it each year depending on where I know I need more intentional work.

. . .

2014 was a year where I felt stuck. I felt caught in my own brain and thoughts and locked into a cage of my own making. Wendy’s article on the Sanctification Spiral was hugely helpful to me this week, just a reminder of God’s faithfulness to finish us in His time: When you feel “stuck,” when you feel like you are continually rehearsing the same struggles, remember this: sanctification is not an endless, repetitive circle. It is a growing spiral in which each round penetrates more deeply into our identity as fallen, but redeemed, image-bearers of God.

. . .

2014 was a year where I forgot to look up often. I love nature, I love creation, but I felt stuck in a concrete box of suburban living. But the truth is the sky is always there and there’s more too, if I’ll look for it: Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life on the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls himself Alpha and Omega.

. . .

For some reason I felt irked by the plethora of “Top Ten 2014″ posts I saw in December. I’m not proud of that (especially since I’ve indulged in my share of top tens before), but I did appreciate Tim Willard’s Top Ten. It encouraged me on multiple levels: In the very small “Christian media world” of books, organizations, conferences, and so on, it’s easy to see the folks who seem to be the most successful and culturally relevant and mimic them. But this is not wise, nor is it fulfilling.

. . .

2014 was a year where I felt the question posed often, “Do you WANT this?” This article came at the perfect time for me this year. You may not agree with all or some of his conclusions, but I found comfort in the transparency of the confession here. My soul needs to be around ready confessors: The key question for Christians is the same one Jesus put to the lame man at the pool of Bethesda: “Do you want to be healed?” Similarly, for pastors, I would say that the key question is: “Do you want to heal?” Too often, either pastors or laypeople (and sometimes both) think they want healing or to heal, but actually would rather give or receive sugar pills.

Pools at Bethesda

Pools at Bethesda

Because what is better than Wendell Berry and Ron Swanson?
Inside every human life there will occur times of hardship and times of rejoicing, which in fact could describe any single trip of my own to the privy, or “thunder-closet”, but with the wife and family that I possess, and more importantly, that possess me, I can remain calm in the knowledge that any storm can be weathered.

Fasting for 40 days can be done Godwardly, but it would be hard to do secretly.
Isaiah describes real repentance as a seismic upheaval where, “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain” (Isa. 40:4). If your soul needs the upheaval of repentance then fasting is a great intensifier.

The Habits of Highly Productive Writers
Chipping away at something for years or decades can lead to a pile of dust or to a finely made and intricately tooled piece of art. It’s often hard to know which one you’re working toward. It can help to delude yourself into channeling Donatello or Brancusi even if what you’re looking at seems like a bunch of shavings.

Beware the Mirror
This is why focusing on our self-image is so dangerous. Many of us do need our sin-corrupted, Satan-encouraged self-loathing corrected. But this will never happen by focusing on our self-image because our salvation, peace, and happiness are not found in improving our image or having the fleeting pleasure of others’ admiration. We are not designed to be satisfied with our own glory.

So Your Life Didn’t Turn Out the Way You’d Hoped
But it’s OK to be a nobody by the world’s standards. In fact, despite our striving and straining, most of us will be. Your greatest challenge isn’t achieving greatness. It’s realizing the greatness in what God is accomplishing in you where you are (which may require you to redefine what greatness really means) and being consistently faithful right there.

Six Reasons to Not Read a Book
I will not read a book to stay relevant. I’ll never keep up. And because of the timeless and always relevant gospel I don’t need to.

I grew up with Barbies and as much as I’d like to say my earliest ideas of what made a woman a woman wasn’t born in those hours of playing with them, I can’t say that. Those shapely dolls shaped more of my concept of beauty—and desirability—than any other early perceptions I had. Even though I don’t know if a more “realistic” doll is the answer to the phenomenon, I think there is something to be said for the children’s preferences in this video. We are drawn to what we are most like.

The Way God Conducts Us: 
SAVED THROUGH CHILDBEARING? PERHAPS WE ALL ARE IN THE END.
When I arrived at home, I felt distracted, harried, mentally and emotionally shaky. The last several weeks’ travel had displaced my equilibrium. When one of my housemates suggested we have a leisurely dinner to catch up, I tried to forestall any expectations, replying by text message that I could only spare an hour before I had to get back to grading papers.

God is Merciful to Not Tell Us Everything
God is merciful not to tell us everything. He tells us enough to sustain us if we trust him, but often that does not feel like enough. We really think we would like to know more.

12 Ways to Make and Keep Friends
This begins to get to the core of the problem: our sinful desire for control. We want friendships on our timetable, our terms of agreement. We do not want friendships that would move us out of our comfort zone.

Serial: the best drama you won’t see on TV
The high school scene, the shifting statements to police, the prejudices, the sketchy alibis, the scant forensic evidence – all of it leads back to the most basic questions: How can you know a person’s character? How can you tell what they’re capable of? In Season One of Serial, she looks for answers.

My Favourite Faded Fantasy
This album drops on November 10th and I can’t wait. It is possibly the most flawless (musically, lyrically, and cohesiviely) album I’ve heard in years. And worth the eight year wait.

This series from my church has been profoundly convicting for me (both the men’s portion and the women’s). Grateful for a church that helps us recognize sin patterns in our hearts and helps us flourish in the hope of the gospel. This past week’s sermon was particularly convicting for me, one who struggles profoundly with perfectionism. I’ve shared it a few times, but here’s once more.

A Beautiful Design (Part 8) – Woman’s Hurdles from The Village Church on Vimeo.

Over-Confident Men and Underestimating Women: Some Thoughts on Shame and Leadership
“Then his eyes welled up with tears. He said, ‘We have shame. Deep shame. But when we reach out and share our stories, we get the emotional shit beat out of us.’ I struggled to maintain eye contact with him. His raw pain had touched me, but I was still trying to protect myself. Just as I was about to make a comment about how hard men are on each other, he said, ‘Before you say anything about those mean coaches, bosses, brothers, and fathers being the only ones…’ He pointed towards the back of the room where his wife was standing and said, ‘My wife and daughters—the ones you signed all of those books for—they’d rather see me die on top of my white horse than watch me fall off. You say you want us to be vulnerable and real, but c’mon. You can’t stand it. It makes you sick to see us like that.”

Is Everybody Single?
“Single Americans make up more than half of the adult population for the first time since the government began compiling such statistics in 1976.”

How God Cares for Those Who Don’t
“God has not met his match in apathy. God is purposeful. God is enduring. God is working. How does sanctification work in the heart of the apathetic? “I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me” (Psalm 57:2). We cry out and ask God to do what he is already doing.”

Bringing Booty Back
“That’s the win, women: neither trying desperately to make ourselves acceptable or thinking less of ourselves, but simply thinking of ourselves less. In fact, whenever I ask women to identify another woman who “accepts her body,” they invariably name someone like Lewis describes. They tell me about a woman who is so unconcerned with herself—never needing to make excuses for a bad hair day or an unfortunate fashion faux pas—that she’s able to be entirely present to the person in front of her.”

Making Sense of Life After a Parent Leaves
“It wasn’t until 2010 that I was able to call God Father. This was something I dealt with for so long. I didn’t call Him father because it was a concept I was cloudy on. I didn’t know how to think about God in a way that I didn’t think about my dad.”

Some links you might appreciate from the past week.

We sung Passover Song during communion this week at my church and I chased down a friend to find out where the beautiful song came from. She told me about The Blood + The Breath by Caroline Cobb, and I haven’t stopped listening. Caroline wrote a song for every book in the bible and this is a compilation of 12 of those songs, telling the story of redemption through the word of God. It’s rich, deep, theologically robust, and musically enjoyable. Buy the album here.

I never get tired of Jared Wilson’s blog. I read very few blogs these days, but I always know at Jared’s I’ll find three things: gospel-rich writing, winsome writing, and Jesus exalting writing. That’s enough to keep me coming back. He’s posted some good ones recently, so I’m just going to link to his blog. Do yourself a favor and subscribe.

“What do you do with a broken heart? Not a romantically broken one, but the one all of us carry around, the one broken by the fall. The one that caused David to seduce the hottest girl on campus. The one that caused Peter to not eat dinner with “the losers” (Galatians 2:11–12). The one that causes us to choose almost anything but Jesus.” Sammy Rhodes is another writer I’m grateful for these days.

Rewriting scripture (or Valley of Vision prayers) in my own words has been one of the best spiritual disciplines for me. As someone whose heart is stirred most when her mind is engaged best, the rewriting of familiar words has helped me innumerable times to increase my faith. A mother and daughter undertook the rewriting of the Psalms in poetry. Justin Taylor has a bit on Harps Unhung here.

Bob and Julie Mendonza are from my church and have begun a home for children in Kenya. It is not an orphanage in the sense that these kids are available for adoption. No, instead the Mendonza’s have already adopted them into their home, Naomi’s Village. Their response to the crisis of poverty and systemic evil in Kenya has been to go in, raise up native Kenyans by native Kenyans for the health of Kenya. It is one of the most tangible expressions I’ve ever seen of Christ incarnate, inhabiting darkness, bringing light. Here’s one of the most recent Coming Home stories.

I’m moving today, so this might be the only post you get this week. We’ll see.

This lecture from Ryan Anderson is worth a listen. He counters same-sex arguments with a philosophical bent.

This mother is hiking the Appalachian trail with her four year old twins. Love it.

This self-identified “failed” pastor is ministering out of his weakness, and it’s a beautiful thing.

This is the best dating advice I’ve seen anywhere.

This makes my heart sing.

This short video is worth a watch, especially if you resonated with my recent article on singles in ministry.

Men of Mission from AIM On-Field Media on Vimeo.

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If ever I felt inclined to lament the lack of children, God never gave me time to do so. In response to every private, fervent pleading I’ve made before God, his answer has been a different door slammed open: a missions opportunity, a new writing assignment, a sudden book contract, an unexpected job, an unsought promotion, the chance to care for aging parents, a student needing extra help, another telling me I am her “true mother,” or another taking my motherly advice to heart at last.

In a life spent moving from place to place, the predictability of landscapes both new and familiar has been a comfort, a well-worn bead to click against another through every iteration of hunger and praise. One of the many pangs of such constant motion is to leave each place both loving and mourning all you have come to know, and to go forward with five kinds of homesickness equally shared, the scent of new terroir on your skin and your spirit forever dogged by the genius loci endemic to each site.

I’m learning quickly that my privileges are my blind spots. I am a married white woman with a graduate education. I do not understand the plight of a poor single black mother in Memphis who worries how rent will be paid and how her children will eat. The evils of poverty and racial discrimination, as two examples, will remain generic evils for me until I seek out stories different from my own. I, too, must learn to listen if ever I am to participate most fully in the body of Christ.

We are socialized to think women talk more. Listener bias results in most people thinking that women are hogging the floor when men are actually dominating. Linguists have concluded that much of what is popularly understood about women and men being from different planets, verbally, confuses “women’s language” with “powerless language.”

“We have to pay attention to detail and care for the contractors we work for,” Yates says. “As a tradesperson, I don’t know any other way to do that than by doing a really good job. We believe that God exists; therefore, the things we do and make now matter. The whole apprenticeship process is also a discipleship process.”