Feel Free to Interrupt

My brother from another mother told me recently that one reason a guy might not ask a girl out is because he fears getting in the way of what God is doing in her life. This particular brother is very much younger than me, but very much wiser, so I've been thinking about it since he said it. I am not of the camp where men must be the reincarnation of Jesus before they are considered marriageable. First, I don't believe in reincarnation and Jesus doesn't either. Second, and more importantly, I only have one savior and a fellow ain't Him. But I am always curious about the trends of Christian dating, partially because dating among Christians has gone the way of dinosaurs and power blue polyester suits, and also because I'm not sure how we're going to take over the world unless we start having babies and, baby, this girl's clock is ticking.

TMI, sorry.

Instead of trying to fit the constructs of culture into the constructs of the gospel, I'm always challenging myself to flip that on its head. How does the gospel show me how to live and how does it tell me how to live?

Showing me how takes stepping back, looking at the way the Trinity interacts with one another, looking at the way Christ lived, the way the Father parents, the way the Holy Spirit functions—understanding these things a little more, I'm able to see and emulate as best as I can. But there is also the telling, the instructive ways of living according to the Gospel. For these I have to step close, compare verbs and nouns, study history, trust that God's way is best—even if it causes friction in my soul.

When it comes to relationships, I'm always asking, "Where do I see myself in the gospel construct here and how can I glorify Christ best in this situation?" Dating has never been a bad experience for me, and I credit that partially to the great men who have pursued me in godly ways, even when there wasn't a certain future ahead of us. At the end of each relationship, I've seen God glorified in and through us.

So to the man who fears interrupting the trajectory of a girl's life, I say, interrupt! We want to be interrupted. We welcome your interruption.

Sweep in, barge in, plant yourself in front of her and ask her boldly, will you go with me? Will you follow me? Will you join your vision to mine?

Because Jesus, guys.

Jesus.

He came to earth, humble in a manger, split his thumb with a carpenter's hammer, ate bread and fish with townspeople, sat by the well at high noon, calmed a raging storm, and for 33 years (and now two thousand years) interrupted the world. He swooped in and did it in humble, confident ways. He knew the trajectory of the world without Him and it was going the way of dinosaurs and power blue polyester suits—only much, much worse. He barged in and turned tables over, raised dead lives, wept with his friends and in the garden, and He did it because we needed it. We could not go on without it.

So you don't have to be Jesus, guys, but you do need to be like Jesus. Girls, we need to be like Christ too, willing to lay down any designs for our lives for the glory of the Father. And we need to be like the Christians we say we are—set on a path paved all on our own and gloriously, beautifully, eternally interrupted for God's glory.

Drinking Dirty Water: The Gospel Coalition

I tell a friend this morning that I feel straddled between two camps and I don't know how long I can sustain this position. I fear being viewed as tepid water. John writes of luke-warm water being spewed from the mouth of God (Rev. 3:16), but sometimes we think we're God, spitting out those who don't agree, can't agree, or just cannot see. We'll show them.

And what?

What are we showing them?

For those who take and adopt the phrase "gospel-centered," do we show those who don't hold to our same brand of theology that they are luke-warm? And for those who take and own the phrase "story-teller," do we spew out those whose stories may look different than ours, take longer than ours, or shorter?

Water sputtering everywhere and not a drop to drink...

Continue reading at The Gospel Coalition.

Writing Advice is Life Advice

One question tops all the other questions in my inbox. In fact, I was getting the question so often that I added a page to this site addressing an aspect of it. But I wanted to jot down a few more thoughts for those wondering about themselves. The question is always some variation of "In terms of quality and quantity in your writing, how did you get to where you are today?"

The answer is three-fold:

I write every day. And I haven't just written every day for a few months—I've written nearly every single day since 1999. I challenge myself to not just write about my feelings, but to write on issues facing the world and Church today. I write reflections, I write in response, I write reactions (though most people don't see these), I write reasons. No subject is too humble for words to describe it, and no issue is too great that it doesn't require me to do some critical thinking about it.

I read every day. My parents used to ground me from reading when I was a young teenager and not much has changed since then. I read articles, books, blogs, tweets, etc. I don't limit my reading to only one side of the discussion. I have an insatiable curiosity to see things from every angle. Many people seem to be encouraged by the level-headedness I might bring to an otherwise hot discussion—I attribute this to the Holy Spirit and to my desire to see things from every point of view.

The Lord. That might sound like a cop-out, but hear me out. I absolutely believe the Lord uniquely wires each of us differently. Some of you can pick up an instrument and where others can only pluck at it, you make it sing. Some see gorgeous photographs in every moment. I'm not sure why, but the Lord uniquely wired me to think quickly and articulately. My mind works fast, discerning light from darkness, good from evil, insight from observation, and then my mind pieces together words just as quickly. It's how the Lord wired me and, believe me, I have fought that call for many reasons and many years.

My challenge to those of you wanting to hone your craft is this:

First, ask the Lord what He wants to do with your skills. Perhaps He doesn't want you to blog voraciously, but wants you to pour your words out to Him like David did, in prayers and songs. Perhaps He didn't wire you to do what comes so naturally to others, but He did wire you to do something: what is it? No offering poured out to Him is wasted.

Second, read and write. Don't only read one sort of material or write in one sort of style. Push yourself to appreciate most genres, views, and voices. I say "most" because there's never been more garbage out there in terms of words.

Lastly, should you decide to blog, do not push for a platform right away. Do not try to go viral or allow any sort of publicity go to your head. Those who are given platforms quickly usually haven't done the work necessary to stand up there for very long. It can feel really good to have someone appreciate your words enough to give you a place to say them publicly, but remember Jesus worked for his earthly father for 30 years before His public ministry. Sweeping sawdust, serving his parents and siblings, growing in wisdom, stature, and favor with the Lord and man.

We would do well to do the same.

(Yes, my hair really is that nappy in the morning. Sue me.)

Some helpful resources for aspiring writers: Wordsmithy by Doug Wilson On Writing by Stephen King Elements of Style by Strunk & White The Bible

What Love Is This?

Love is patient: it waits, it stills, it quiets before speaking.

With patience a ruler may be persuaded, and a soft tongue will break a bone. Proverbs 25:15

Love is kind: it coats its words in gentleness, extending the hand of graciousness to every person, deservedly or not.

Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:24

Love does not envy: it finds contentment in today, rejoices with others who have what it wants for itself.

But godliness with contentment is great gain. I Timothy 6:6

Love does not boast: it brings nothing but the cross, it is built of humility and the knowledge that it is only a steward.

As it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” I Corinthians 1:31

Love is not arrogant: it assumes the best of everyone, deserved or not, never stops learning & is patient while others learn too.

I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think. Romans 12:3

Love is not rude: love holds its tongue when there is an opportunity to best or beat another with words.

When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent. Proverbs 10:19

Love doesn't insist on its own way: it shows the best way is the way to the cross through the cross.

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." John 14:6

Love is not irritable: it doesn't get annoyed, pissed, frustrated, or angry. It is not "owed" anything.

Be not quick in your spirit to become angry, for anger lodges in the heart of fools. Ecclesiastes 7:9

Love is not resentful: it keeps no record of wrongs, when disappointed by someone, it forgives quickly, generously.

If one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Colossians 3:13

Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing: it weeps at the sight of brokenness, dissension, disunity, and gossip.

You shall not go around as a slanderer among your people, and you shall not stand up against the life of your neighbor: I am the Lord. Leviticus 19:16

Love rejoices with the truth: it drops everything and sells everything to find truth instead of relying on what meets the eye.

The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it. Matthew 13:45-46

Love bears all things: it upholds the weight others can't hold, defending the defenseless and turning the other cheek.

But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. Matthew 5:39

Love believes all things: it errs on the side of trust, not in man, but in God.

And those who know your name put their trust in you. Psalm 9:10

Love hopes all things: it never stops hoping for the resolution and reconciliation of all things under heaven.

All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation. II Corinthians 5:18

Love endures all things: it holds up for the sake of the gospel, enduring persecution, gossip, slander, & injustice.

May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus. Romans 15:5

Love never ends: it wakes up every day determined to do it all over again.

Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul. Psalm 143:8

This is a series of tweets I wrote today based from I Corinthians 13. Mostly I was preaching to myself, but thought they might encourage some others. 

February: 100 in 2013

The Brothers K // David James Duncan I talked about this book a lot while I was reading it, and everyone kept assuming I was talking about The Brothers Karamazov; I was not. The Brothers K came highly recommended to me by several people when I asked for suggestions, and though I was surprised I'd never even heard of it before, I put it on the list. This book will go down as one of the finest I've ever read. It is not a complex story, but it is a long one, and a beautifully told one. It's simply the story of a family. I don't know how else to describe it. That's what it is. It's 700 pages of fear, angst, beauty, love, hurt, joy, pain—all wrapped in one family. I have never been so sad to turn a last page.

Girls Like Us // Rachel Lloyd Our new graphic designer and I are working on a toolkit to hand out to the myriad of people who ask, "I care about sex-trafficking, but what can I do about it?" As part of this project, I'm researching helpful books. One such book is Rachel Lloyd's memoir of her life in the illegal sex business juxtaposed with her life now working in New York city for GEMS: Girls Educational and Mentoring Services. I especially appreciate Rachel's story because she's a perfect example of how girls with no money and little education are trafficked easily. Prostitution is not low-life girls who enjoy sex—there is nothing about that life that is simple or enjoyable, and Rachel clearly illuminates this while educating her readers.

Wordsmithy // Douglas Wilson One of the quickest reads so far, and partially because Wilson is such a brilliant writer you can't help but drink his words quickly. Especially great, because this is a book about writing. And it has now topped my list of recommended reads for aspiring writers. There is no hint of ego or assumption in this, it is filled with tips, book recommendations, quick punchy quips, and makes no bones about the fact that writing is often a long hike up a high mountain where the only view at the top is simply a better one of the world. Excellent.

Prince Caspian // C.S. Lewis This has always been my least favorite of the Narnia series, and this time through was no different. I'll assume most of you have read it, or will at some point read it, so I won't belabor the point: sometimes you have to suffer through your least favorite Narnia book because you said you'd read all of them.

Treehouses of the World // Pete Nelson When I was small I would watch Swiss Family Robinson JUST for the treehouse scenes. I'm not even kidding. I would fast-forward through all the other scenes just so I could study the construction of the most epic treehouse ever made. When I saw this book at Barnes and Noble on the cheap rack, I nabbed it immediately. The book highlights over 50 treehouses all over the US, giving their brief background, construction details, images, and some personal stories. It's a keeper.

Brothers, We Are Not Professionals // John Piper I've already written a full review on this one which you can read here.

The Weight of Glory // C.S. Lewis One of the better habits I've adopted through this project is holding a pencil in one hand as I read (courtesy of Tony Reinke's Lit which I read last month). Good thing, too, because I marked up this copy pretty good. Among my favorite essays this time through were Inner Ring and Membership, perhaps because of the juncture in life at which I am, I don't know. I'm grateful, though, for Lewis's poignant and truthful words never leaving me without conviction.

Gospel Deeps // Jared Wilson Contrary to popular assumption, I don't actually read that many blogs, about ten on average, and Jared's has not left the list in about three years. His book Gospel Wakefulness was deeply impacting to me in my own journey toward understanding the gospel. As my pastor said in the foreword to the book, "People tend to understand the width of the gospel, in that they understand Jesus and the cross, but they have trouble with the depth of the gospel, struggling to see how it informs and shapes every aspect of our lives." This book kept me marveling at the depths of the gospel all the way through, keeping me turning the pages, stopping at time to weep with gratefulness or find joy in the fullness of grace.

Special thanks to those of you who gifted books I read this month for 100 in 2013 (Geoffrey Swyka, Alison Luna, Mallory Bumgarner, Philip with-no-last-name =) ).

Nothing Else I Want

The moon is slung heavy above the Texas horizon and I cried all the way home. She is a pearl dug half-way out of a hill, an orange pearl made of fire and sand, and I can't help but weep at her magnificence. I am smaller because she is lower. The earth is the Lord's and everything in it. Give me Jesus, Give me Jesus. You can have all this world, but give me Jesus.

The song is on repeat all the way because there is nothing in the world I want more than Him.

Nothing more than Him except everything else I want. And, oh, oh how I want.

I want to be a pearl instead of a pebble, but I am the one looking at a cold dark rock and calling it a blazing pearl tonight. The earth is the Lord's and everything outside it too.

I pull my car in the driveway and press repeat once more, lean my head back and stare at that full bellied orb in the east. She is nothing more than what she reflects.

Still I live my life selling everything I own to buy a field that hides a rock instead of a pearl.

You can have all this world, but give me Jesus. 

Real Men & Real Women: Tough & Tender

The Young, Restless, & Reformed Complementarian crowd is often caricatured by a flannel shirt wearing bearded young man who gulps craft beers and talks theology from scribbled notes off his moleskine notebook. He quotes Piper and Packer and Paul. He opens doors for his sisters and uses the word "damn" with frequency, except when his simple fundamentalist Baptist mother is around. He never feels completely capable of leading anyone because he feels like he's playing catch-up for all his years of not. He drinks his coffee black.

Because the movement has historically been so stalwartly male, made of all things growly and gruff, there just hasn't been a similar caricature for the female side of YRRC. Though if you were going to attempt a one, she's probably an avid Pinner, crafting the perfect home for her bearded [future] husband, reading Proverbs 31 and feeling like she falls short of everything except being a wife of noble character (and only because the YRR guy wouldn't choose anything less than nobility of character for his wife). She probably shops at Whole Foods, or for the more frugal, Trader Joes. She writes Bible verses on index cards and tacks them to kitchen cabinets.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

One of the enemy's favorite tactics is to take what God has not called ultimate and make it so. If he can confuse the Christians, get them to devour one another, well, he can call it a day. No need for the Crusades part deux, Jesus came to bring a sword, and by golly, the first people we're gonna use it on is one another.

One particular area of glee the enemy is basking in these days is the division he's bringing to the Church concerning gender roles. And he does it by making caricatures rampant.

Humanity is important, which means individuals are important, which means men and women are important, which means what men and women do is important, and if the enemy can make what we do (or have done) more important than what God has done, he will seem to have won this particular battle.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A concern of mine I see as I stand on the sidelines, and am being invited into the midst, is that we are taking caricatures of men and women and making them ultimate. For the YRR complementarian man, he thinks a principal way of Being A Man is fighting for his sisters: he wants them to be protected and flourishing—only he's a little clumsy at it sometimes and it can come off like he's being a chauvinist. For the complementarian woman, it's to find a husband as quickly as possible—not because she's half a person without him, but because how can she prove she's a distinct helper if she's not helping anyone? For the egalitarian man, he wants to serve his sisters by fighting to give them a voice where traditionally the most a woman can do in the Church is change diapers and hand out bulletins (Note: both tasks are valuable, I'm not knocking them, just how they limit the abundantly distinct gifts of women.). For the egalitarian woman, she has distinct powerful words burgeoning up inside of her and wants desperately to share them with the world; she wants to help, even if she ends up just sounding shrill.

Theologically we're not at all alike, but practically I think we are.

I don't think we all are. But I think we are sort of kind of maybe are.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hear me out.

If the enemy's favorite tactic is to distract us by what is not best, so we would miss what is, wouldn't you say he thinks he's succeeding in some respects (Gen. 3.1-5)?

We have brothers who are fighting on behalf of their sisters, wanting to see their strengths utilized and maximized within the bounds of scripture, and we have sisters who want to do what they were created to do: help bring wisdom, counsel, a distinct voice, a feminine voice.

We're not so different after all.

But if we continue to get distracted by terminology, practicality, and sustainability, we're going to lose sight of the beautiful simplicity of the Gospel. I am not saying a theology of gender roles is unimportant here—I'm saying the world and its constructs are dead to us, we boast in the cross alone (Gal. 6.14).

Piper said, "We're not here to make men and women, we're here to make disciples." And my heart leaps inside of me when I hear that. Practice is important, but our practice should be to make disciples in the shadow of the cross, not to make mini-mes. "Come and die" is our mantra, "it's gonna hurt" should be our caveat.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Are you trying to fit yourself into a caricature of what your church or your theology deems you to be? Can I plead with you to not? You are doing a disservice to your theology, your brothers and sisters, and most of all the Gospel, if you make your position or personality ultimate.

Brothers, help your sisters. Fight for them when they are being marginalized. Fight for them not because you want them to lead you, or because you think it will make you more capable of leading them, but because the more you fight for your sisters, the more they will fight for you, and the more you will contend for the Gospel together as one.

Sisters, fight for your brothers. Help them see things in different distinct ways, help them with gentler tones and aspects of humanity that have been characterized as feminine. There is a deep need in the Church today for strong gentleness, ferocious lovingkindness, and articulate passion, and you are absolutely built to bring it to the table. But bring it for the sake of the Gospel, not your voice.

"Jesus is tough and tender, absolutely will get in the face of wicked, self-righteous leaders, and then hug a child. So when we come to Christ, men get appropriately tougher and appropriately more tender, and the same thing happens with women. It's like the last chapter, the end of a movie. There's a sense that my life makes sense, my experiences make sense. I am a female, but it's a bigger deal than that, I am a part of a greater story, I have a sense that I'm bringing to the table not just my femininity, but my spiritual gifts. I am not just a man, but I'm here to give my life away for the body of Christ. And that only happens when we come to Christ." —Darrin Patrick

For the sake of the gospel, friends, be like Christ. Tough and tender, both for both, all at once, all one in Jesus Christ.

Sucking on Stones

Sometimes we just need to stay hungry, she says to me through tears, and I remind her that Jesus said His food was to do the will of Him who sent Him. We are silent for a few minutes before thanking one another for being bread and fish.

Last fall I wanted to ask for something or someone and the Lord told me no or wait or yes or maybe but that He would sustain in the meantime. What I did not expect was the sustainment He gave. She lives on the west coast, in rainy Portland, she studies Hebrew and is a whole head taller than me. She's blond and beautiful and has a sleeve tattoo and we regularly cry through our conversations. I didn't ask for her—she was not what I asked for.

Sometimes, she told me once, we think we're asking for bread, but we're really asking for a stone, and when He gives us bread we don't recognize it because we're still looking for the stone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I read a quote from Kathy Keller in the book she co-wrote with her husband, the inimitable Tim Keller, "Sometimes a pig doesn't know the worth of a pearl, to him it's just a pebble." I underlined those words, scribbled beside them, and cannot stop thinking about them.

Sometimes I'm asking for a stone instead of bread and sometimes I feel like a pebble instead of a pearl.

I find it a bit strange that Jesus said He would built His Church on the rock, crooking his finger at Peter, petra, Rock. On the backs of men who would deny Christ three times before He could forgive His followers saying they know not what they do? On the backs of those who sink after three steps out on watery faith? On the backs of those zealots? Those fools?

It occurs to me that God is the only one who knows the worth of stones, pebbles, pearls, and rocks.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

If we don't ask for bread, we might feel satisfied for a long time sucking on the cold, hard emptiness of a stone—thinking it was all He had for us. Or perhaps we have ourselves convinced, like the old fable, that our stone soup is satiating and full.

And still, somehow, He's building His Church, accomplishing the will of the Father, on the backs of stone-sucking fools like us.

Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work." John 3:34

Shelf Life

I have a shelf life of two years, three years max. Once I overheard someone say of me, "She's obviously wife material, my only fear is her aversion to commitment," and the words replay in my mind.

A friend told me last week the lies she tells herself the most are always in second person: you aren't smart enough, you aren't pretty enough, you aren't enough. I tell myself the truth, though, when I use the second person: you won't stick around long enough.

A man put his hand on my head many years ago and spoke these words: "He has given you a flexibility of spirit and there are those who will see you as a flitting butterfly, going from one thing to the next, but remember this: He has given that flexibility to you, He has made you adaptable and transient." I looked up from under his hand into the eyes of someone who knows my soul well, knows its propensity to fly the coop. I smiled; she smiled. But she still cried when I last left her house on my trek back to Texas.

The blessing of my singleness has been flexibility. It is moving quickly and easily, changing careers every few years, worrying little about accumulation of things or resources. It can be a selfish existence, but it can also be the quickest way to remember every single day this place isn't home and ought not feel like it.

The curse of singleness is the same curse on everyone—for man it is to work, to toil, and to commit; for me it is to birth, to nurture, and to commit. A pregnant friend told me once it wasn't until after the shock of knowing a child grew within her wore off, that she realized she had to be committed to this. Nine months of her body shifting and shaping, with an alien thing in her that would come out—the labor process terrified her. But she was committed not because she chose to be every second of every minute, but because the blessing is also the curse: it's a long painful commitment and there is no going back.

Though no child grows in me, and perhaps never will, I understand the angst of long, painful commitments, of nurturing when I feel like running, of entering in when I long to draw back. At times I feel unwilling to do this, to stay, to prolong my shelf life—I just want to go home. This week I want to go home to the northeast corner, some weeks I want to go home to my hometown, most days I just want to go home.

This morning I stopped on Romans 8 and stayed there, committed to it:

For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

I rarely think of corruption in the way I think Paul meant it here. To me corruption is Wall Street businessmen and the Russian mob, politics and big government. But it also means to crumble, to rot, to fall apart. This is what we're doing, friends, all of us. Our shelf life is crumbling, rotting, and falling apart. We're bound to do it, all of us.

But.

But the redemption of our bodies is not long off, not at all. And this, oh this, I can count on and commit to—it's coming. If we're His children, it's coming. He's coming.

And He has no shelf life or homesickness or fear of commitment—He's in, all in, forever and ever.

Comparing Weight

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for usan eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison... I Corinthians 4:17

Tonight I'm on the phone with a friend and we're talking about the weight of glory like we know what we're talking about. We've seen our fair share of light momentary afflictions and we're both crying "Maranatha!" in our stronger moments.

Come quickly, we're saying, and in the meantime we're shouldering our share of the burden.

"Did you know that the Hebrew word for glory is the same word for heavy?" she asks me. She's in seminary and seminarians know these things. I tell her I didn't know that but it seems fitting, doesn't it? If you can follow it through, the weight of glory is the heaviness of glory is the glory of glory is the glory of heaviness is the glory of weight—and isn't it a beautiful picture when you put it like that?

This light momentary affliction is preparing us for the glory of bearing it through til the end. Finishing well. Finishing without comparison, because we know there is no comparison or coupling in heaven—we will be all too enamored with the King of Kings to consider our neighbor.

And let me be straight—our momentary affliction is not the stuff of real suffering, we have food enough and friends enough and He carries us through in the meantime. But our momentary affliction comes from the comparison we are so wont to do here on earth, and isn't it the way for us all?

No one else seems to struggle here or with this. No one else has to muscle their way through this experience, so why us? Why me? These are the existential questions of our momentary affliction. It is fitting, then, that Paul would use the word comparison when he talks of the weight of glory, isn't it? Listen here, he's saying, you who are looking around you and experiencing the stuff of the earth in deeper and more painful ways than your counterparts are, what it's preparing you for is a glory you can't compare, not even on your best day.

I imagine, for one moment, Isaiah in the year King Uzziah died, seeing the Lord in all His glory. Isaiah, who was undone by all that glorious glory. "Woe is me." I imagine the burning coal touching his mouth and his admission that he would go anywhere the Lord sent Him.

I imagine that and I can bear almost anything.

Context Can Save Your Life

A friend told me a long time ago that it was the unanswered questions that scared him most. He is an answerer, his wealth of knowledge is vast and he gets paid to answer people's questions about faith and theology. "I fear being unable to answer a question for the lack of time or knowledge, or simply because the answer I give doesn't satisfy," he said. I thought about what he said for a long time, a few years, and I'm thinking about it still.

This week I'm thinking about it because I saw a quote from a theologian. The quote was taken out of context and not linked back to the original context, thus painting him (and his ministry) in a negative light. If I hadn't seen his name below the quote, well, I would've lost my faith in Jesus, humanity, and the Church if that's all I knew of it right there. It was that bad.

But I am also an answerer—though mostly for myself and not for others. I cut and paste the quote, found its original source and wept through the entirety of the sermon because it was so beautifully about God being God and on His throne and loving us as only God can love.

Context can save your life.

But this isn't what I told my friend the night he told me his fears. Instead I told him about the night I realized I didn't believe in Jesus. I told him it was because I had spent a year asking hard, hard questions and not getting answers. It was because I read everything I could get my hands on, listened to sermons, read blogs, prayed, fasted, and still.

Silence.

There isn't much context for silence.

A friend told me recently she sits by her window, sits long and quiet, waiting for God to say something to her. Anything.

But what if He doesn't? I ask her. And what if that's okay?

This morning I'm thinking about the phrase "out of context." It doesn't mean the words said were incorrectly quoted or never said. It simply means out of the context in which they were intended. Without the whole picture. Apart from the whole.

And I'm thinking about God who is so much more sovereign and good and holy and set apart and whole than I will ever be or see. I am a soul out of context, a body apart from the whole, a mind void of completion. I am only a part and I see only in part. I exist in unanswered questions for the whole of my days and, Oh God, I pray He gives me more vision, more sight, more view into the whole, but what if He doesn't?

At the end of my year of questions without answers, one night on my bedroom floor, I told God what I really believed about Him which was that I didn't believe Him. Not at all. I told him what I thought I knew to be true was not true. And He began to show me what I thought to be true of Him was taken out of context, apart from the whole. Then He spent the next year drawing me back, helping me to see the whole, and how fully beautiful the whole was, even if it was still only part.

Context matters. It matters to theologians and babies, mothers and sons, it matters to good writing and better thoughts. It ought to matter to us because it matters to God. He is less concerned with us getting answers than He is with us seeing in wholeness that He is the way, the truth, and the life. He is God and we are not. He is full of mercy and justice, goodness and fury, grace and insight. He is Whole and we are only part.

Chasing David With All My Soul

We're talking about David and Jonathan in my Old Testament class. Sunday-School felt-boards, crackers and juice aside, I've never given either man much thought.

....................

A friend is thinking of leaving our church. She isn't the first and won't be the last, and I've left my share of churches in life, so I know whatever I say won't matter much. So instead I'm thinking of covenant these days, the Old Testament, grab the inner thigh, share the sandal, slaughter the lamb kind of covenant.

At my church we don't sign a membership document promising to agree with everything my church teaches, promising to never question authority, or to turn a blind eye to what seems unjust. We sign a Covenant saying we'll wrestle every demon to the ground before we turn our backs on these brothers and sisters. We'll turn over every stone before we'll call anyone a heretic. We'll come to our senses as quickly as possible and run from the pig's pen to a Father who meets us.

We sign up for Covenant, not a pansy pot-luck.

Not really.

But kind of.

....................

This morning in class we read the first part of I Samuel 18 three times. Three times is a holy number and so I listen close.

Three is also the number that made a covenant in those first few verses: David, Jonathan, and an unseen God who wouldn't leave them, not ever.

Three is also the number of times the author made mention of Jonathan's soul being knit to David's.

A soul is a funny thing. In my circle I never ask how someone's doing, or how is their heart. I ask how their soul is and people always turn their head sideways, maybe laugh a bit at me. Their soul? Their soul? Ask about my car, or my health, or my day, or my family, but not my soul. Not that precious, beautiful, broken bit of me. Not the bit of me that is secure and fashioned deep in the crevices of God, but oh, so tender still.

Souls are the one thing about us and within us that are truly lost or truly found, but all the peripherals crowd around and lie to that soul, telling us we are not okay and never will be. And sometimes our souls lie to us in other ways, telling us we are okay when we're clearly not.

....................

I think of my friend this morning, and myself, and all the others. Friends who have left the Church, been burned by the Church, can't figure their way around the Church. I think of David and Jonathan, and Jonathan's soul. And I think of God who cares about souls.

The Covenant I signed with my church is not a failsafe; it does not keep me from harm or knit me to the people there. It is not my badge of glory or my shame. It does not give me special privilege or grant me favor. The Covenant is a promise between them and me, us and God. It says we will chase, we will run, we will warn, we will fight, we will wrestle, and someday, some final day, we will win. Our souls are knit together, see?

And that is the God who Covenants with me too, and I can't get over this today: He runs, chases, meets me at the end of the lane, throws his cloak on me, and welcomes me at long last home.

....................

If you're interested, I'm also talking about covenant Church living over at Deeper Church today in a provokingly titled post: Mark Driscoll Isn't My Pastor 

January: 100 in 2013

Lit! A Christian's Guide to Reading Books // Tony Reinke I know it's only January 2nd, but I'd like to attribute any reading I get done this year (whether I complete 100 or not) to Tony Reinke. Lit! A Christian Guide to Reading Books was first on my list to tackle this year, with good reason. This project is not about reading 100 books or scaling a monumental goal, but refocusing, realligning, and recalibrating my love for the written word. Lit! is separated into two main sections: the theology of reading and the act of reading. In other words, the How of reading and How we read. Riddled with helpful thoughts, methods, and principles, the entire book encapsulates the importance of thinking in our reading, instead of simply reacting to our reading—a hint we all could take.

The Allure of Hope: God's Pursuit of a Woman's Heart  // Jan Meyers My roommate has been asking me to read a book that particularly touched her this year. Part of my aim in this project was to tackle books I might not naturally be drawn toward, and this book was one. The Allure of Hope is written by Jan Meyers, an unmarried woman who writes about her journey of singleness and her hope in God. I read this book in one night, partially because it was a quick and easy read, and partially because while it's a subject I'm obviously interested in, I'm less interested in reading books that dwell on the absence of what I also long for. That said, Jan's book was a simple bit of encouragement. I found that she quoted many of my favorite authors and that we had struggled with many similar themes in our singleness. I particularly appreciated the subtitle, and common theme in the book, that it is God who pursues our hearts—and less about us constantly striving after something that seems unattainable.

Mere Churchianity: Finding Your Way Back to Jesus-Shaped Spirituality // Michael Spencer Jared Wilson first recommended Mere Churchianity to me a year or so ago and I read it quickly then, but I wanted to reread particularly the second half of the book—which I felt was the most important part of it. Mere Churchianity, by Michael Spencer (The Internet Monk), published posthumously, is the story of a man frustrated with traditional church and much of evangelicalism. The book places such a strong emphasis on what he calls the "Jesus-shaped spirituality," that I found myself a bit frustrated nearing the end: what about the Father's pursuit of us? what about the continuing work of the Holy Spirit? But Spencer saved himself in the end with a question and answer section that I hadn't read the first time through. I recommend this book highly particularly if you are one of the thousands who struggle with the way we "do church," the lingo of the Church, or practices of Christianity (tithing, membership, service, etc.).

Half Broke Horses: A True-Life Novel // Jeanette Walls The Glass Castle was one of my favorite 2012 reads, so I knew Half Broke Horses wouldn't disappoint. Jeannette Walls wrote what she called a "true-life novel" based on her grandmother's life. The back cover reads, "Half Broke Horses is Laura Ingalls Wilder for adults, as riveting and dramatic as Isak Dinesen's Out of Africa or Beryl Markhams West with the Night." With a quote like that, I'm hooked. I read this book in one sitting—about four hours one Sunday morning. Wells' writing flows quickly, easily, and is still somehow spellbinding and deep. She's a writer worth her salt and worth reading especially if you love memoir (and I do!). I particularly love the way Wells doesn't sugarcoat any of the good or bad her family engaged in. She tells the story and I can't help but wonder if we have many storytellers like her these days—or any stories being lived like the ones she tells.

The Meaning of Marriage: Facing the Complexities of Commitment with the Wisdom of God // Tim & Kathy Keller I told one of my roommates when I was halfway through The Meaning of Marriage on January 4th that it was probably going to be the best book I would read all year. Nothing like jumping the gun, but I think I'll hold to it. Tim and Kathy Keller have written, I think, not only one of the most helpful marriage books, but also perhaps one of the most helpful *singleness* books, and undoubtedly, a book that adorns and displays the gospel and its workings inside of a marriage and our lives. Their chapter on the Essence of Marriage had me weeping, repenting, and begging God to show me the fullness of His love. His chapter on Singleness and Marriage had one page in it that I cannot get out of my mind, perhaps one of the most helpful examples of how to broach a conversation when what I call Soul Pornography is taking place. I'm not going to tell you what Kathy does here, mostly because I want you to read this book. I think that everyone should read this book.

Homeland // Barbara Kingsolver I read Poisonwood Bible in the summer of 2008, eating, drinking, and sleeping those words. It's rare to find a wordsmith of Kingsolver's caliber who also crafts a tale as spellbinding and unforgettable as her stories are. Homeland is a collection of short stories and so it was a perfect book of fiction to start out with this year. Each story is so absolutely distinct from any of the others, I couldn't help but wonder if there's any truth to the old adage, "A good writer writes what they know best." What is evident from all of Barbara Kingsolver's stories is that she knows human nature best, its sins and secrets and joys, and so she wraps a narrative around those components and gifts it to the world.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe // C.S. Lewis When I was eight years old my mother read the Chronicles of Narnia aloud to my brothers and me. I remember late nights of us begging for just one more chapter and her acquiesing. I don't know why I've never picked them up since, certainly not from lack of opportunity. It's a testament to Lewis's writing though that two decades later I kept myself awake at night reading just one more chapter. I began with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, because that is how Lewis said the series began, even though many people still insist on reading Magicians Nephew first (my mother did). The interesting thing about reading the same book twenty years later is that my imagination hasn't changed a bit—I still see Narnia in my mind exactly as I envisioned it on those late nights wrapped in afghans in our living room.

For the Love of God: A Daily Companion for Discovering the Riches of God's Word, Volume 1 // D.A. Carson This is one of my "Throughout the whole year" reads, especially as it is a bible reading devotional. I've never been good at reading plans (bible or otherwise), my personality functions best in structure schedules with plenty of flexibility within the schedule (ie. Read the Bible at the same time each day, with flexibility in what part of the Bible I read). There isn't a lot of fexibility within this book and I can already see that frustrating me a bit. It's also good for me, though, and I hope I remain disciplined throughout the year. (Pray for me on this one though!)

Special thanks to those of you who gifted books I read this month for 100 in 2013 (Janine Bergey, Alison Luna, Nancy Hull, & Jenna Boyd).

Have a Good Really Bad Day

When I was ten we bought a Christmas tree from the firehouse lot. It was an immense thing because we had a cathedral ceiling in our living room and grand things made us feel grand. My father wrestled that tree from the roof of our station wagon and into the house. It was so tall though, that even though the bottom was bolted into the stand, it began to tip and then fall over altogether, ornaments and lights going everywhere. My dad laughed, my mom shook her head, and my older brother talked about something called Murphy's Law, and then all three pulled twine around the tree's upper branches and nailed it to the wall.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"If something can go wrong, it will go wrong," is not the sort of mantra I want to adopt on any day of my life, but there are some days. Some days, you know?

Some days when you wake in the middle of a deep REM cycle, jolted by the sound of your 4:30am alarm. Some days when you drop the toothpaste four times in a row and your contact lenses are irritated. Some days when you're already late and you hit the school zone exactly as the lights start blinking and the traffic slows to 20mph. Days when you drop your debit card out of your car window at the ATM and when the barista gets both your name and your drink wrong. Days when all three printers your computer is connected to at the office won't print content and time sensitive documents. Days when your browser crashes multiple times within the first 20 minutes of work. And it's only noon. And I didn't even list everything that's grating on my last nerve today, because, trust me, there's much more.

Those days.

Today.

I don't know about you, but I find it difficult to pray or think or even resemble a Christian on days like these, when everything that can go wrong (even if it's going right on time—like blinking lights in the school zone), will go wrong. I want to snap at everything and everyone who doesn't understand the urgency of just one thing going my way. Just one thing. My way.

I also don't know about you, but the last thing I want to do today is find some sort of comfort in a Psalm about peace or a Proverb about perseverance.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Today is the sort of day I'm painfully, awfully aware of my sin and the sin of everyone around me. I'm aware that baristas are busy and drivers without constraints are dangerous, printers are prone to malfunction and my frustration with the world at large begins with frustration at myself. Today is the sort of day I remember: oh, it will go wrong, it will go horribly wrong, from the moment I wake until the moment I sleep, but that is only a physical reality of a spiritual truth.

The Genesis curse swooped in on perfect days, idyllic pleasure, quiet ambling, and sweet romance. It swooped in and wrecked a whole lot of things, and January 16, 2013 is one of those things. I keep hoping my day will go better, but it might not, and it will be okay. It will be okay because there is a better day ahead, a final day, a full feast of what is only good and never wrong.

If you're having a bad day today too, let me just encourage you with the reality that you might not have anything pretty or perfect, smooth or safe today at all. But, if you're a child of God, you do have a better day ahead. He promises you that.

"But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. For we have come to share in Christ..." Hebrews 3:13-14a

Project TGM: Theology, Gospel, Mission

There was a new kid on the block in 2012 named Project TGM: Theology, Gospel, Mission, and they recently asked to make me the newest kid on the block (and the first woman to join their team.) I jokingly said to them yesterday that I have seven brothers and ain't skeered of them, but I'll be honest, it's a solid line-up over there and I'm humbled they asked me. I hope you'll join me over there today, but also make a habit of heading over there for some great pieces by regular writers (Owen Stracham, professor of Theology and Church History at Boyce College, Logan Gentry, pastor at Apostles Church in New York, and others) and occasional guests.

My inaugural post is up today on how the greatest need for women is not parenting/marriage/singleness advice or tactics, but gospel realignment. Please hop over and give it a look!