Talk it In/Out

I process internally. I'm rarely ready to discuss anything or contribute anything to a conversation until I've chewed on and distilled every possible scenario in my head. Because I'm bent this way, I always think it is more helpful to process things internally. You know who doesn't agree? All of my friends.

Yup. For some reason I seem to attract verbal processors like hipsters to coffee bars. Nearly every one of my close friends is someone who wants to hash and rehash every thought process. They want the counsel of many, and talking through things helps them distill the good counsel from the bad.

The downside? They want to do that with me.

I don't seem to mind it when they want to hash around their own problems in that way, but when they want to process my situations in that way, nine times out of ten, I end up feeling bullied or not heard. I feel like a project to be fixed instead of someone to just be heard. But all they're doing is loving me the way they love to be loved.

However, when they want to talk over things with me, and all I do is listen, they can feel like I don't care about their problems. I do. I really do. I'm just not ready to give my thoughts until I've thought through them.

The other side of the coin is I'll have thought through a situation for a long, long time, and come to someone with every possible angle considered. I'm rarely looking for their advice, I just feel like I need to say, "Here's what I've been thinking about." But because I'm coming with a neat bullet-point list, the problem figured out, the best option to take, fully processed, my friends can feel like I'm the one bullying them.

It's a no win, right?

Well, without Christ it's a no win.

James says, "Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger." Because I am naturally bent toward that, I can take this verse and vilify everyone I know who just wants to "talk it out."

But the book of Proverbs says, "Without counsel plans fail, but with many advisers they succeed." So which is it? Shut up or get talking?

I don't think it's either or, honestly. But I do think we need to keep three things in mind in every relationship:

1. The necessity of keeping the Holy Spirit and Fruit of the Spirit central in every conversation we have. When we're motivated by the things of the Spirit, we're going to be motivated not to be heard or responded to, but to be like Christ in our listening and in our counsel. Good advice is meaningless if it's not empowered by the Spirit. Likewise, good listening is active listening, not just thought-filing.

2. If you're an external processor, be mindful of trying to do so with internal processors. It can feel bullying, even if you mean it in earnest helpfulness.

3. If you're an internal processor, be mindful of bringing your fully processed ideas to external processors. It can feel condescending, even meant kindly.

Sometimes the best thing, even for verbal processors, is to be slow to speak. And sometimes, even for internal processors, it is to seek the counsel of many. Above all, the counsel we need most is Christ's, and the voice we should be listening to the most is His.

Subversive Women

We don't like being wallflowers at the world's party. A recent study of the decline in white males' preparing for pastoral work concluded that a major reason is that there's no prestige left in the job. Interestingly, the slack is taken up by others (blacks, Asians, women) who apparently are not looking for prestige and have a history of working subversively. Neither was there prestige in Paul's itinerant tent-making. E. Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor

I liked being a wallflower until I was 22. Around then someone showed me the dormant selfishness in standing off until approached by others. He was gentler of course, but the truth is since then I have only been uncomfortable as a wallflower. Keenly aware I ought to have both feet in most situations, whenever I find myself holding back or feeling alone, I know I have no one to blame by myself.

Whenever I lead any group in a pairing activity, I challenge everyone if they don't want to be picked last, to pick someone else first. I want them to learn that sometimes ministry must be subversive. It may be a bit of selfishness motivating them, but real relationships are born every time. Every time.

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

This morning I'm reading Philippians 1:12, "I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel."

What had happened to Paul was this: ship-wrecking, beating, whipping, imprisonment, and something else, subversive ministry.

Paul spent a significant portion of his ministry tent-making with Aquilla and Priscilla. It might seem a simple enough trade, but Paul kept at it while evangelizing those fool Jews and Greeks in the Synagogue. Subversive Ministry.

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

This weekend women are going to be gathering all over the world. Pockets of women who understand the prefix sub, under. Some understand it as a joy, in great fruitfulness of submission to husbands and local church leadership. Some understand it as a net, holding them back from everything their soul craves. But we all understand it. The world has not been kind to women or wallflowers.

So here's my challenge to you: let's be kind first. Let's be subversive in our mission. Let's gather, in living rooms, back rooms, sanctuaries, and coffee shops, and let's pick someone else first.

Let's really advance the gospel by not wasting what has been won for us, through persecution, pain, study, self-sacrifice, and thousands of years of subversive Christians.

The truth is the gospel changed you because Someone picked you first. Someone didn't regard equality as something to be grasped, but submitted Himself to His Father, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.

That's the kind of subversive ministry I want. It's a ministry the world cannot understand because it's a ministry the world hates.

Be that woman this weekend, and every weekend, and every day. Pick someone else, not so you won't be left standing alone, but because it is an expression of the gospel deep and tangible; it is lowly tent-making among scholars and pharisees; it is risking persecution among the fearful and bullying; it is subversive and sanctifying ministry. It is Christ.

There's still time to find an IF:Local gathering and if you're a woman, I invite you to find one near you. If you're going to be at IF:Austin, I'll be there and I'd love to meet you. I'll do my best to subversively find you first, but if I don't, come find me.

The 98%

There's this part in the beginning of Walker Percy's The Moviegoer, when Binx Bolling is discussing what we seek. He says,

"For, as everyone knows, the polls report that 98% of Americans believe in God and the remaining 2% are atheists and agnostics—which leaves not a single percentage point for the seekers…

Truthfully, it is the fear of exposing my own ignorance which constrains me from mentioning the object of my search. For, to begin with, I cannot even answer this, the simplest and most basic of all questions: Am I, in my search, a hundred miles ahead of my fellow Americans or a hundred miles behind them? That is to say: have 98% of Americans already found what I seek or are they so sunk in everydayness that not even the possibility of a search has occurred to them?

On my honor, I do not know the answer."

Binx spends the entirety of the book looking for that answer.

Do you ever feel like that? As though you are so far ahead of yourself, let alone others, or so far behind you'll never catch up? I feel this way often enough.

On good days I am behind and on bad days I am ahead, egotistically wrestling with existential questions of paramount concern that I'm sure no one has ever wrestled with before (You see why those are bad days?).

I ask questions of myself, of God, and of others that I'm sure must frustrate or irritate Him because they certainly frustrate and irritate me. I believe He is good, but I want Him to explain His goodness for goodness sake. If He is good, why doesn't He make all the bad make sense?

Does that make me ahead of my time or behind it? And if it just makes me part of the 98% percent (of 1961), are you asking the same question and can we be friends?

The truth is we are all walking a thin and narrow line of faith. Some might say walking on water or jumping off cliffs, but isn't it all the same? We are taking small steps of great faith to even seek at all.

He says to seek him while He may be found and it makes me wonder sometime if there is an after. As though we can only seek Him while He makes himself able to be found. After that, too late, get back with the 98%, you sloth. That'll turn your choice theology on its head no matter which end of the spectrum you come from.

Binz was asking a question I think we all ask in our moments of greatest vulnerability: will I ever get this right? Whether I am behind or ahead, it matters not, but will I get it right? Will I find what I am looking for?

The answer, I think, is we will. It is those who never ask or seek who will not, those who never lift their frail and fragile hands to knock—not to be let in, but to be let out of their death drenched bodies. I think we will find what we sought all along and what we find may surprise us.

Because we will find it is He who found us first.

Lingering, or Why I'm Tired of Conferences& Still Going to Them

I'm weary of conferences. Not wary, weary. I'm weary of the same talks, the same speakers, and the same hype. I want something deeper and I want something that truly makes me pause.

About a year ago I started hearing about this conference called Linger that is being held in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. My interest was piqued right away because, well, linger means to pause, to stop and reflect—and that's what I want. To pause. To stop. To be still. To listen. To hear. To linger. To reflect on God and His abundant love for His children. Oh, yes. Yes.

If that sounds as refreshing to you as it does to me, I'd invite you to check out Linger and if you can make it, to do so. So much so that if you're from out of town, I'll do my best to help find a home for you to stay in while you're here in the DFW metroplex.

If you're what is colloquially called a creative, there's a Thursday night session just for you. Just to sit and be encouraged by like-minded individuals who want their art to reflect more of Christ and what He's doing in them. Check that out.

If you'd like to know more about Linger, view this video below.

Linger is being held at Watermark Community Church on February 14 & 15th,

Also, if you're a Village Church member you get a marked discount. Cool, huh? You should have gotten an email from Mason about it, or you can look on The City for the special code.

Hope to see y'all there!

Cornerstone

Need some soul encouragement today? Read these lyrics. Read them slowly. Read them surely. Read them with confidence. This is the anthem of the sinner, the saint, the fearful, the confident, the sure, the scared, the son. My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. I dare not trust the sweetest frame, But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand, All other ground is sinking sand; All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness seems to hide His face, I rest on His unchanging grace. In every high and stormy gale, My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood, Support me in the whelming flood. When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my Hope and Stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound, Oh may I then in Him be found. Dressed in His righteousness alone, Faultless to stand before the throne.

Daily Bread

Daily Bread is by Jill Phillips and it has been my Advent Hymn.  There's a restlessness in the soul of man Nobody's tamed it yet You never fail to keep any promises But somehow we forget That you're always right on time

You feed us all with a silver spoon And like your foolish kids We start worrying about what we're gonna do When the hunger comes again

But you're always right on time With an open hand You have exactly what I need Daily bread Daily bread

You have the wisdom and the patience We need the grace to see it clear Too soon and we take it all for granted Too late is more than we can bear

So you're always right on time With an open hand You have exactly what I need Daily bread

Next: part II

Three years ago I interviewed for this job because my roommate worked here and said I oughta. I don't know if it was because she worked here and liked me, or whether they liked the fact that I was brutally honest about my mistrust of ministries and God at that point in my life, but they hired me. Today is my last day. 

I boxed up all my personal items, filed away all the projects I've worked on for three years, cleaned off my desktop, and in a few minutes all traces of me on this computer will be gone. It's a closing of a chapter, yes, but it also feels like a death of sorts. I love this place. I love these people. I love my iMac. I love my external hard-drive who I named Beaker (and I hope he'll always be called that). Three-quarters of our staff is in India right now and half of who's left is gone already for Thanksgiving. It's a quiet day here. I won't miss being in an office, but I will miss this office. It's been a healing, redemptive, creative, and fun ride.

What will I be doing?

Good question.

I told my man yesterday that I have a loop running through my head: You're so stupid. Millions of people are looking for jobs and you just quit yours with no real plan.

That doesn't sound like Jesus, he said, and he's right.

Here's what I'll be doing:

Writing. Big surprise, right? But it's true! It's true! I have a few projects up my sleeve and I'm just trying to figure out the right time to tell you all about them. Should I tell you now and get you excited and expectant and then let you down if it doesn't work out like I'm dreaming it will? Or do I just whistle while I work, pretend there's nothing to see here, and tell you to move along? I don't know. What does one do in these situations?

Speaking. Yup. I know I'm an introvert and crowds make me claustrophobic, but for some reason speaking doesn't. I really enjoy talking about the goodness of God. It's not about me at that point, it's about extolling Him—and I love that. I'm available to speak at women's retreats, college groups, conferences—if you're interested in booking me, fill out this form and I'll be in touch. I'll also be teaming up with Lauren Chandler and Tara-Leigh Cobble (two of my faves) to speak. Here's our brand-spankin' new website if you'd like to book us!

Designing. I love graphic design and I'm grateful I can make a living doing something creative and fun like this. My print portfolio is available here. Let me know if you need wedding invites, book covers, business branding, etc. I'm fairly versatile and I like the challenge of new projects.

On my knees. I'm serious about this one. I've been self-employed before and I love it. But this go-round feels a little more risky than it's felt before. I'm not sure why, but I'm praying, asking for faith and confidence in His ability (and joy) to take care of me.

Today I'll sling my bag over my shoulder, heft a box of things I collected at my time at Sower of Seeds International Ministries, and I'll leave my office for the last time. I'm sad about it, really sad. But I'm grateful for what God did in and through me here.

Goodbye sweet place.

The True Wine

This season of life is understandably busy. By understandably, I hope you understand I am not going to list out everything, but trust me when I say I have never felt more pressed against from every side—even when the pressing is good and from beloved people or tasks. There have been seasons of life where the grapes have grown thick on the vine, where I have turned my face to the sunlight and pressed my roots in deep. And there will be seasons ahead when I pray I am a sweet wine, a drink offering to my Father, a joy-bringer in the Kingdom's party.

But today, and this season, feels like the crushing vat in between.

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

I had one agenda this weekend: to sleep.

I've been sick since mid August with some combination of a cold, allergies, infections, strep, flu, and exhaustion, and I just haven't been able to beat it. I know that much of is due to circumstances beyond my control, but some of it has been God's gentle reminder to me that I am no superhuman—and I need sleep.

And I needed to repent.

I needed to repent for a few things, namely being busy. So busy that I couldn't see straight for the past few weeks. There is a lack of insight into my life and others, a lack of trust in the Lord and those whom He has put into place for me to trust, and there has been a self-pity that has set in. I needed to repent for those things.

But I also needed to repent for not seeing the crushing as part of the process.

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

I'm a good western Christian, raised with the belief if I worked hard enough and put my hand to the plow long enough, I would see a bountiful growth in a short time.

The truth is, though, that sometimes the space of time between the sowing and the reaping is a very long time—and there is waiting and pain and pressing that happens before the harvest's spoils are feasted upon.

I don't like being pressed though, I hate it. I haven't liked not having time to give to regular writing, reading, and thinking. I have begun to despise the things that press for my time and energy. I want to do it all, I want to be both grapes and wine—forgoing the process that takes one to the other—and ignore the reality that one cannot be both fruit and flavor. Not in this case at least.

Jesus knew this of course and I want to remind myself of this. He came to be pressed on our behalf so we could enter into the true feast of the wine. We could not sip of His fullness, His robust flavor, His joy-bringing feast, if He had not willingly taken the cup of suffering—crushed on our behalf.

Tim Keller said, in one of my favorite sermons,

"In order to drink the cup of joy with us, he had to drink the cup of justice on our behalf...He came give His water, His blood, to be our true wine—our bridegroom."

Instead of running from the busyness of this season, attempting to shirk the pushing and ignore the pressing, I want to press myself into the crushing process. To trust the process of taking fruit to its full fruition, the drink this cup for this day. To trust He is the true wine and all that is left of me at that final feast will be of Him.

Taste and see the Lord is good! Psalm 24:8

Psalm 103 in a day

///

It was 109 degrees today and I left my car windows open all day, the swirling Texas dust settling a fine layer on my dashboard. I swept a finger across it before I started my car and thought of the exchanges we make: cooler car with dusty dashboard or stuffy car with clean dashboard? Dust is only the stuff of earth in finest particles. It is the remnants of another generation's treasures. Now it is nothing a wet cloth won't fix.

For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.

///

Tonight is Elder Led Prayer at my church. It's the night of the month when communion is messy, all of us crowding to the front to dip our bread in wine, brushing up against the body of Christ in more ways than one. We worship long and loud and pray without ceasing. It is my church. I go to a large church with multiple services, but the first Wednesday of the month, these people, all of them, they're mine. I know these faces and love them. I am alive here.

As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field

///

"How long is this going to go on?" I ask her. She shakes her head. How can any of us know how long a darkened tunnel is or where the end will be? There is no way out but through it, though, and so we chug forward, praying for a break of light soon. We are vapors, here today, gone tonight, but the seasons of our vapors pass faster still. I have to remember this when struggles seem to last an eternity.

For the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.

///

I read a story once of a woman who feared the Lord. I don't remember much of the story except that she feared Him and I do not know many who do. I don't. He is my friend, my savior, my Father, my Lord—but do I fear Him? I find myself so pleased with today's treasures, tomorrow's dust. Do I trust that beyond all of this, this, that He is to be feared? That He is the only one worthy of my awe? His love for me is not contingent on my awe of Him, but I know I would see His love more abundantly if I saw Him as He truly is.

But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children.

Link Love & the Pastor, the Plumber, and the Poet

I'm moving this weekend, have a conference for work all week, and a pile of due articles looming in front of me, so my mental acuity and creativity is somewhere below sea-level. Link-love it is. Before the links, though, the more I read actual books, books over which authors have labored and sweat blood and tears, the less I find good writing on the web. This is sad to me because I think if we're going to put content out there, it should be good content, it should be the best content.

Fellow writers: don't write because you feel something must be said—it is far better for one writer to say one thing in the most winsome way possible, than for many content-creators to say the same thing many different ways and none of them win any. There is just as much glory to be had for the plumber, the pastor, the preacher, the preschool teacher, the parent, and the pediatrician as there is for the poet. It only depends on whose glory he seeks.

Now for some good writin':

Alone With My Thoughts: I’ve been alone in the car on some rather crowded highways. That, sadly, doesn’t mean I have been driving in silence. If my windows could talk, well, parental guidance is suggested.

Cigar Smoking and Grace For the Accountability-Holder: We are looking for grace from our accountability-holders. But we ought also to be looking to how we might give grace to our accountability-holders. Maybe we ought to strive for holiness and integrity in our lives not simply out of personal religious ambition but out of relational mercy, out of a desire to not make religious cuckolds of our friends.

Is 'Background Information' Ever Necessary to Understand the Bible? Others so focus on "background information" that they end up foregrounding what is in the background and backgrounding what is in the foreground.

There’s No Such Thing as a Writer (and other thoughts for those of you thinking about writing): It is of the utmost importance that one be humble before words. They have been around for a very long time, they are very powerful, and they are a gift from God.

When is a Royal Baby a Fetus? They find out they are pregnant, they see the two little stripes on the home test, and their heart drops. They don’t know what to do; they have no help from the man who impregnated them; they already work tirelessly, raise children, and have precious little in the bank. Though every life is precious, some are imperiled from the start.

Bending Toward a Rightness:

A number of my peers have recanted, found God just too wild. Oh they still rise to say the creeds but there is no blood in their mouths. I expected by now to learn the language of God but I have only learned to love him.

I just love this. That's all. 

Signing My Life Away

The first time I signed a legal document I was 19 years old. The story is long and interesting and someday I will tell you the whole thing, but here is the short of it: I was raised to believe that my yes was yes and that was enough. Legalities shmegalities, best to keep yourself as unencumbered by law as possible, never know when you'll need an out.

So when I walked into that small office and "signed my life away," as it was phrased to me, I felt my every organ constrict and the bile rise quickly.

This is what fear does to a heart meant to be free, I thought. I signed my name Lore A. Ferguson and initialed elsewhere LAF and I was doing anything but laughing. I looked over my shoulder as I left the office, certain Big Brother had attached himself to me and my every move would be surmised and calculated henceforth.

That was 12 years ago and since then I've signed my name away. Leases, liens, school loans, "the borrower is the slave to the lender," and I feel my slavery to the system. I am grateful for wise parents who did not give an allowance for meager tasks, nor did they spend extravagantly on their children. "He who does not work, does not eat," was often quoted; "Go to the ant, you sluggard," was often sung. Work for what you eat, earn, and keep, for work makes you a better person—only do not sign your name on a dotted line or someone else will own you, free and clear.

This week I was given four separate and unrelated legal documents to sign. Each one varies in nature and term. Some present me with opportunities I never dreamed of and some bind me to a commitment my soul balks against. I feel a slave to a lender. Even if I borrow nothing, I borrow time.

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

In a series on the local church my church has termed The Dearest Place, we have been learning about contracts and covenants, commitments and communing and here is what I leave each week with: my time is not my own, nor are my resources. My money is never mine, my body is never mine, even my soul is not mine. Our good Father has stewarded every resource to us for our good and His glory and we are owed nothing from Him and owe nothing to others but love (Romans 13:8). The law has set us free from sin and death—but not the law alone—the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:2).

I may be bound by school debt, contractual obligations, and legal documents filled with legalese, but I am fully free in Christ to steward what He has given me to steward. It is for freedom that we have been set free—and that freedom doesn't give me carte blanche to do as I please, but fully binds me to Him to do as He pleases.

He is my freedom and my Master, my lender and my giver, my full sufficiency and the one to whom I can never pay back what I owe.

He pierces my ear with his ownership and keeps me from harm. I can sign my name in confidence (with wisdom) on documents because they remind me I am but dust and He holds my days, my finances, my commitments, and my resources in His hands. I can sign my name with confidence because He has signed His name with His blood.

Before You Say I Believe for Another Day

"Every morning, when you wake up," he used to say, "before you reaffirm your faith in the majesty of a loving God, before you say I believe for another day, read the Daily News with its record of the latest crimes and tragedies of mankind and then see if you can honestly say it again." He was a fool in the sense that he didn't or couldn't or wouldn't resolve, intellectualize, evade the tensions of his faith but lived those tensions out, torn almost in two by them at times. His faith was not a seamless garment but a ragged garment with the seams showing, the tears showing, a garment that he clutched about him like a man in a storm.

—on Union Theological Seminary professor James Muilenburg by Frederick Buechner in Now and Then, pg. 16

June: 100 in 2013

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night in a sort of middle of the night panic. It was nothing really. I just remembered I hadn't posted June's 100 in 2013 and it's the middle of July. What that should tell you is two things: 1. I need a personal assistant because [s]he would never forget such things. 2. I am human.

It should also tell you a third thing which is that I didn't actually finish June's books until a week ago, and even then I didn't finish one of them entirely. But more on that in a bit.

Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen (or Karen von Blixen, whichever you prefer) has long been one of my favorite tales. It is beautiful writing from start to finish and it's been about six years since I first read it. Story aside, every sentence is pure poetry.

The Hole in Our Holiness by Kevin DeYoung. This is one of the books every month I mostly skim. The reason for that is simple: I read enough articles and blog posts saying similar things often enough. However, that said, I think it is still an important book particularly for the YRR movement and even more particularly for those who accuse the YRR movement of being lax in their pursuit of holiness. Within the context of grace and justification, DeYoung delves into sanctification and its implications on the Christian's growth.

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson will probably top the list of Most Memorable Books read this year (of which The Brothers K and The Meaning of Marriage hold sole positions thus far). I have heard about Robinson's writing for a year now and this book was like eating a perfectly ripe peach, drinking the finest wine, and sitting at the feet of a hundred ancestors. I have heard many say it was difficult to get into in the beginning, and I would agree, but give it 50 pages, please. You will not regret it.

The Art of the Commonplace by Wendell Berry. This is the aforementioned book that I did not finish in its entirety. It includes 21 of Berry's essays and each one is more spectacular than the one before (though, nothing, in my opinion, tops A Native Hill, which is my favorite essay of his). I read 16 of them before feeling like it would be best for me to set it aside for a few months. Part of the challenge of this 100 in 2013 has been the speed at which I'm reading and the inability to truly ingest fully. Berry deserves that and I aim to give it to him.

Notes from the Tilt a Whirl by N.D. Wilson. I wanted to love this book, I promise. I very much wanted to love it. Wilson is a fine wordsmith and I think there are many who will identify richly with this book, but I'll be honest, I had a hard time following his direction and even harder grasping some concrete ideas. This might be a book I revisit in a few months or years when I can give it more time.

Still by Lauren Winner. This is my second time through Winner's second memoir, this one sub-titled Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis. I eagerly read her previous books and recommend them highly, but this one was hard for me yet again. The writing itself is lovely and the way she works through her faith in a somewhat disjointed and beautiful way is exactly what a faith-crisis ought to be, but her conclusions again left me sadly wanting.

The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones. Review here.

Embracing Obscurity by Anonymous. I'm one of the suckers who bought this book simply to see if I could figure out who the author was by the writing style, I admit it. Conclusion: I have no idea who wrote it, except that they are probably associated with my associates. Who knows? It could be you. But that's missing the point, isn't it? The point is to embrace the unknownness we are so lax to embrace in a world of platforms and pulpits. Point taken. If this is a struggle for you, I recommend the book highly.

These are the last of the books to be packed for our upcoming move. You see how much I love you? I keep things unpacked for you.

Putting in Roots

In the sprawl of Highland Village there's a new place for locals to settle in with a cup of coffee and a book. Roots Coffeehouse is owned and operated by a local couple, Jay and Melanie McWhorter. They are no strangers to the coffee business, but when they began to dream about opening Roots in Highland Village, they knew they wanted it to be more than a coffee shop. "We wanted it to have an artisan feel," Melanie said, "and a way for people to understand and honor the process of coffee." For most of us coffee is a wake-me-up or a quick stop at our local shop in the morning, but for Roots it's much more about the holistic nature of coffee. From farmers and harvesters, roasters and packagers, baristas and customers, the process of making one cup of coffee is worth a farmer's entire day of labor.

The folks at Roots may want their customers to understand the global effects of coffee—but not at the expense of the coffee itself. "We have a honey vanilla latte made from local honey from Round Rock Honey Farmers with a dash of vanilla that's is very popular with our customers. We also have a Cortado, as well as pour-overs like Chemex, French Press, and a custom-made Beehouse for our serious coffee drinkers. We also offer sandwiches, pastries, and homemade granola with grains from Grapevine Grains."

"We want to do things locally that honor things globally," says Melanie, "whether it is providing a great product from our farmers, to create more business for them, or whether it's supporting a community initiative like partnering with area non-profits." In an effort to do this, Roots carries mugs and pottery made by artisans in Cameroon. They're also partnering with local businesses and organizations to see an end to poverty, human-trafficking, and global water needs.

The atmosphere at Roots is calm and peaceful. With interior design and custom art done by a local artist, Dustin Wekesser, to handcrafted furniture throughout the shop to live music on Friday nights, from its inception Roots has been a community project. "Community is important to us. We want Roots to be a place where people can come in, rest, talk, enjoy one another and coffee." They must be succeeding, because even though it's only been open a few weeks, it already feels like Highland Village's very own living room.

Roots Coffeehouse is located at 2570 FM 407, Highland Village, Texas.

Originally published at D Magazine. All images by Dustin Wekesser.

This Friday Roots Coffeehouse is donating proceeds from the day to Naomi's Village, an orphanage in Kenya run by Julie and Bob Mendonsa. If you're in the area, stop by and support these great folks as they help change the lives of orphans in Kenya!

Details here 

Emily Posting the Twittersphere: Twitter Etiquette

Since we can hardly be imposed upon to read full paragraphs, give a tweet or twitterer the benefit of doubt, let alone acknowledge the utter insufficiency of 140 characters to encompass our entire creed, a few simple considerations for those who consider themselves the beacons of the blogosphere: 1. My pastor says "Everyone is a theologian, some are just really, really bad at it."

Your theology is the perception you have of God; the way that perception works itself out in your life is not theology, but practice. Don't confuse the two. Here's why: a faulty version of God ultimately lead to less joy. That's it. It's as simple as that. A right version of God leads to life abundant and fullness of joy. He made it that way on purpose. His singular goal is to coax you into seeing Him rightly so that your joy may be complete. If your theology is built from circumstances, blogs, tweets, or experiences, you are playing with mud-pies, as CS Lewis said, when you've been offered a holiday at the sea. His word stands forever, even the most prolific writer cannot reproduce a fraction of that promise.

Get your theology from the holiday at sea, not the mud-pies we make in our proverbial back yards.

2. Not only does God's word stand forever, but the Whole Counsel of God stands forever.

One of my favorite passages in the book of Acts is when Paul says to the Ephesians, "Therefore I testify to you this day that I am innocent of the blood of all, for I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of God."

I love that. I imagine Paul standing there, with a sort of half smile on his face and tears in his eyes, his hands imploring to God the words he said were true. "For I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of God." Paul was so desperate for them to know God in His fullness that delivering a partial gospel to a people who might not receive the whole was not an option to him. The whole counsel, nothing less. The Old Testament shouts of what is to come and the New Testament shouts of what is to come. And it all shouts of the magnificent splendor of God.

If we deliver a partial gospel (and this is so easy to do in a soundbite society), or if you judge a man's whole ministry based on his soundbite, be aware—we are held accountable for our foolish words, you, me, and him. Regardless of your experience, story, circumstances, or theology, your whole duty is to fear God and obey His commandments (Ecc.12:13).

3. Give grace. As you have been given grace, give grace.

Maybe someone had a rough day. Maybe there were specific circumstances in their life that led to an ill-timed soundbite. Maybe there are specific circumstances in your life that led to a poor reading of another's soundbite. Maybe they're in a different place in their journey. Remember when you were there? When you didn't get it? Or when you thought you did?

Let's give the whole counsel of God, let it fill up full in your mouth and overflow from your heart. It's not your name or your renown that will be exalted, but His.

I just think there might be fewer bad moods and critical posts and reactionary blogs and self-righteous stories floating around the internets if we all put some of this into practice.

Or if we all just went outside and played for a little bit.