FlowerDust.net

what is something you feel you can’t say in church, or around other christians?

for example…mine would be, “sometimes i feel like i can’t share how i really feel inside.”

funny, serious, whatever…what’s yours?

Unfortunately (and if you follow my Twitter account you already know this), I got pretty sick Thursday night. As in wake-up-at-2:30AM-Emergency Room-CT Scan-sick. After it came back all clear for appendicitis and other scary things, I thought I’d just fight through whatever it is and press on to Atlanta.

I picked up my rental car, literally had everything packed up and was heading back into the house to lock up when I was overwhelmed by the contents of my stomach. My temperature is all funky and I can barely move without throwing up. And it has been a long, long time since I’ve thrown up. Like eight years.

Part of me knows this is a spiritual battle and that part of me is second guessing my decision to stay home. What if I was supposed to move along in spite of being sick and I made the wrong choice? Another part of me thinks, “Hey, people get sick. You got sick. It’s out of your control.”

So I’m torn.

No doubt God is in control of all of the circumstances at hand and everyone who has worked so hard to make this weekend happen is being more than gracious and patient and loving.

I’m just having a hard time understanding…knowing I am probably overthinking everything…but I’m struggling, you guys.

Thanks for your prayers and love and encouragement. I know a lot of you have been in situations like this before and I could honestly use your wisdom right now.

You must decide for yourself to whom and when you give access to your interior life. For years, you have permitted others to walk in and out of your life according to their needs and desires. Thus you were no longer master in your own house, and you felt increasingly used. So, too, you quickly became tired, irritated, angry and resentful.

Think of a medieval castle surrounded by a moat. The drawbridge is the only access to the interior of the castle. The lord of the castle must have the power to decide when to draw the bridge and when to let it down. Without such power, he can become the victim of enemies, strangers, and wanderers. He will never feel at peace in his own castle.

It is important for you to control your own drawbridge. There must be times when you keep your bridge drawn and have the opportunity to be alone, or with those to whom you feel close. Never allow yourself to become public property where anyone can walk in and out at will. You might think you are being generous to anyone who wants to enter or leave, but you will soon find yourself losing your soul.

When you claim for yourself the power over your drawbridge, you will discover new joy and peace in your heart and find yourself able to share that joy and peace with others.

-Henri Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love

At first when I read this, I couldn’t decide if I was convicted or turned off.

“But I want my life to be open to everyone.”

Alas, as I thought about it more, I realize he didn’t say “never lower the drawbridge and stay safely inside your castle.” Instead, Nouwen enforces the importance of emotional boundaries. Boundaries which need to be in tact to make you strong so you can accomplish your unique, global purpose. Jesus did it in Luke 4.

I think if we look at his context, maybe we can feel a bit more free to occasionally retreat and replenish.

How do you do at controlling the drawbridge? Do you agree or disagree with what Nouwen is saying?

=====

I was having a little Twitter chat with a friend of mine yesterday - one who has been a big cheerleader in my life. After sending me a bit of encouragement about the roads I’m taking, and ones I am considering taking over the next six months to a year, he said this:

Go after the biggest dream in your heart.

I don’t know about you, but I know for me, the biggest dream in my heart is scary. It’s crazy! It doesn’t make sense.

I find myself asking, “God…is that really you?”

And yesterday I heard Him tell me, “If it doesn’t make sense, it probably is me!”

God asks us to do things that don’t make sense.

In fact, a preacher chick I admire once said to me, “there is NO NATURAL way a supernatural destiny can be mapped out….”

So as my friend said…Go after the biggest dream in your heart.

Especially the ones that don’t make sense.

God’s your provision. Get out of the way and give Him a chance to prove it to you.

What’s the biggest dream in your heart?

=====

Once upon a time I wanted to kill myself.

Seriously.

I was 19…maybe 20 years old…and had an amazing life. I was earning a ton of money working at a trendy dot.com in Dallas, living in a fabulous Dallas studio over a nightclub, driving a new Mustang convertible, had a personal shopping assistant at Nordstrom (who knew my name, my size, my style, and I’d go in once a week to get what he thought was new and best for me).  When the dot.com went public, my earnings would go into six figures (it never went public, by the way) and well, everything seemed to rock.

Except I was over $40,000 in debt.

I couldn’t pay my bills.

And as I drove to my nifty little loft I looked at the parking garage and wondered if it was high enough to kill me if I jumped.

No joke.

So that was ten years ago.

Five years ago, things looked a little better. Chris and I were newlyweds. I had paid off most of my debt…well, 75% of it anyway. We bought some new fancy furniture for our new fancy apartment because we wanted to keep up with the Pottery Barn lifestyle of the suburbs of Johnson County, Kansas. So we added a few thousand more bucks to the pool of debt.

And we couldn’t pay our bills.

And we’d take out payday loans to get us by.

(Don’t ever, EVER do that.)

So that was five years ago.

Three years ago, after having an expensive gall bladder surgery (which carried a hefty price tag of $12k) we sought help from a financial counselor. We negotiated all of our credit card interest rates. We chopped them all up except for two, $300 cards only to be used in emergencies (and to keep a credit line open which is actually good for your credit score). We saved. For the first time in a long time we tithed.  We still screwed up. We still took out pay day loans. But it was getting better.

So that was three years ago.

One year ago, we paid off all of our credit cards. We only have a couple thousand left in medical bills. We still have two stupid car payments, but we will drive these cars until they rot.

In the last year, we’ve made decisions that have cut our monthly expenses almost in half. Here are some (not all) of the things we’ve done. And keep in mind…this wasn’t an overnight flip (although some of them were). We prayed, begged, negotiated, bartered and we still will continue to ask how we can better manage our finances.

• DOWNSIZING! We’re moving in June from West Nashville to Franklin (a southern suburb of Nashville)…our friends own a cottage that they are leasing to us for a more than reasonable rate. It’s small. It’s 800 square feet. It has one bedroom. It has one bathroom. We’re losing a basement, a garage, an office, and a half bath. But we are gaining a good $300/month in housing expenses because of paying less for rent, having less square footage to heat and cool, and we don’t have to rent any appliances. (Oh, and 800 sq ft forces one to declutter. I hate clutter. We moved in with 35 boxes of stuff (and I realize that isn’t a lot). It’s my goal to move out with 25 boxes. Or less.)
• EATING OUT! We limit our eating out to one meal a week (of each). One coffee, one lunch, one dinner. Sometimes we share. And we always have leftovers. This saves us about $300/month from our typical habits. It adds up.
• NO SHOWTIME! We cut our cable plan to basic cable. This saves us about $50/month.
• HELLO? No home telephone. $30/month.
• WIFI NOWHERES! We used to have a wireless card. We don’t anymore. $30/month.
• GEICO GECKO! Shopped our car insurance. Saved $150/month.
• CUT THE CARDS! Did I mention no credit cards? Saved $600/month.
• CUT THE FAT! We don’t buy much junk food. Saved $100/month. And love handles.
• SHOP THE CELL! Upcoming in December: I’m moving to Sprint and getting a Blackberry. $20/month savings over my iPhone.

Total Cutbacks: $1580/month…$18,960/year

It’s not just about cutting back, it’s about managing the money we do have better. How is that money better invested?

• THE CHURCH! Kingdom resources. We are more free to give more and more often and in more places.
• COMPASSION! We are sponsoring three kids. Soon to be four.
• LIFE INSURANCE! I don’t care who you are or how old you are - GET LIFE INSURANCE. Chris and I have ridiculous amounts of coverage for about $30/month. If one of us happened to get hit by a bus, the other one would be taken care of for life.
• SAVINGS! We don’t have a ton, and call me stupid but I don’t think we need a ton. Having an emergency fund is helpful, but we don’t keep this fund super huge. There are needs right in front of us…so we try to not worry about the “what if.” God’s proven faithful. We hope to do the same.

So…a few of you have asked, and here is your long answer. Yes, we budget. Yes we have spreadsheets. Yes, we talk about our money all the time. We talk about purchases no matter how big or small. Communication is key for us. Being on the same page is key for us.

And I have to say the freedom it brings is…amazing!!!!

====

Shame is a sickness…

A disease…

That keeps us hidden.

The remedy for shame is grace.

Grace that requires you to step aside when you know you’re right.

Grace that requires you to consider others better than yourself.

Grace that hurts and is dangerous.

Someone around you needs that grace right now.

Go give it.

And give it freely.

So, I happened upon a little device called the Go-Girl, while looking at travel accessories for India.

Because, you see, in Uganda, I had to use this one time.

In India, I’ve heard the conditions can be even worse and, well, I’m just not the most coordinated person in the world.

(Case and point - watch this…at :35, you’ll see what I mean…)

Along came Go-Girl.com. A pretty little pink antimicrobial female urination device. Great for third-world visits, camping, and other gross restrooms or locales where you don’t want to (or can’t) squat.

Read: Girls can pee standing up.

Opposing Mother Nature? Maybe.

But I’d rather oppose her than get pee on myself.

=====

It had been a really long day.

6 am came too soon, and as usual, I was running late to the airport. Due to the extra few minutes I spent taming my hair, I was unable to stop by Sonic for my habitual Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper.

The tragedy.

The flight from Nashville to Houston was one of the bumpiest I’ve ever been on. And I fly. A lot. Several people on our plane threw up and one even passed out on our descent.

Evidently, April is Monsoon season for the state of Texas.

Once in the terminal, I checked my next flight on the screens.

My 12 pm flight to Dallas was delayed until 1 pm.

Then 2 pm.

Then 3:15 pm.

4:15 pm.

Canceled.

Fortunately my phone alerted me a good fifteen minutes before they announced it so I was able to get in line early and snag a seat on the next flight out.

5 pm.

6 pm.

6:45 pm.

7 pm.

7:30 pm.

Finally.

I have never been happier to be en route somewhere.

Dallas wasn’t my final destination though. After spilling Diet Coke on a very conspicuous area of my lap, landing, collecting my soaking wet luggage, and getting my rental car, I drove to Coppell to meet my mom and brother for a quick bite to eat before driving to Wichita Falls. Normally a two hour drive isn’t anything to fret over.

But I was tired.

Frazzled.

Decaffeinated.

Grumpy.

And my hair, which I so purposefully wasted time on, had succumbed to the humidity and easily doubled tripled in size.

At least I was in Texas.

I fit right in.

Shortly after midnight, I pulled into my hotel and knowing I would be sleeping in the same clothes I was wearing (as my PJs were drenched from the Monsoon), I rang the buzzer to the front desk.

A middle aged woman with few teeth and a bit of a scowl checked me into my room. Honestly, she kind of creeped me out just a bit. Enough that for once, safely inside my room, I actually locked all the locks on my door.

I looked in the mirror at my road-wearied face. My Diet Coke stained jeans. I looked like I had aged ten years in what was really just a ten hour journey.

The walls are a little thin at the hotel, and outside my room I can hear the scowly lady talking to someone. Immediately my heart sunk as I realized what a jerk I had been to judge this woman. I think it would be safe to assume a middle aged woman who looks like she’s lived a lot of life probably didn’t plan on making $6 an hour working the midnight shift at a small town, Texas inn. And in my hurried, cranky, spoiled interaction with her, I didn’t view her through the eyes of love.

Leaning into the mirror more to look into my eyes I prayed, “God. Help me see people the way you see them. Help me see people through the eyes of love.”

It’s so easy for me to judge. To compare, contrast, and separate the worth of humanity within my own mind, and by my own eyes. As if somehow I have the right to do that.  Yet I do it.

All the time.

I wonder what people look like through the eyes of love. I can’t say I’ve ever really set every agenda aside and simply narrowed my focus to see them the way Jesus would have seen them.

Beautiful.

Worthwhile.

Broken.

Child like.

Lovely.

And so it’s my hope this week that I can open my heart a little bit.

Open my mind.

And this week, may we all be challenged to look through the eyes of love.

There are six billion people in the world.

Give or take.

Each with a purpose.

A dream.

A fear.

A place.

A place in this world.

(Cue Smitty video, circa 1993)…

And I’m learning that there is an increasing need for love and hope and faith in each of these six billion people.

And as someone once said…

“I can’t change the world…but I can change the world in me.”

In fact, by doing it the other way around, I’m actually quite hypocritical.

Plain and simple.

Serving the world while serving myself?

Heal the broken while I hide my own brokenness?

Impossible.

Inconsistent.

Action without personal transformation is empty.

And transformation without action is impossible.

===

Lots of time on an airplane, or driving over the mountains between California and Las Vegas leaves much room for introspection.  Add in a plethora of amazing conversations, a life changing book, and being reminded that just one year ago, I was leaving Uganda.

Most of this time, I was unplugged.  During my week on the road, I opened my computer maybe three times, mostly to get directions to Dunkin Donuts.  I really didn’t check Twitter that much.  Or Facebook.  Or even my blog.  Or even your blog.

Next week I am going to share with you a commitment I am making.  A commitment that has been prayed over and thought over for hours and hours.  After Monday night, the book reading and gathering with my friend Shaun Groves and me, it only confirms more and more the direction my heart is going.

If you’d like to take a look at bits and pieces of the evening, you can watch the clip below.  Thanks to Steve Eller for putting it together.  It was an honor meeting so many of you face to face.

I’ll share a bit more tomorrow about a few events coming up I’d love to see you at. But for now, I would really appreciate your prayers as I take some more time to focus and pray about the upcoming months.

It never ceases to amaze me when people say with shock:

“A woman could never, EVER be addicted to porn.  Never!”

For those of you who think that, let me tell you something.

I was.

And your theory is wrong.

Not only was I (you can read my article from Relevant here), but my friend Crystal was too.

I met Crystal when she was in high school and I volunteered in her youth group.

Then she grew up and we worked together and then I moved but she’d always come visit and we’d get tattoos together (or we wouldn’t) and over the last five years she has become one of my closest friends.  She is even traveling with me on my California & Vegas trip over the next couple weeks.

People have been asking me to write a book on women and porn addiction, but I honestly have never felt that was the book I needed to write.  After Crystal has walked her journey, and now spent a few years counseling other addicts, she has the task on her heart to write this.

When I had the idea for Mad Church Disease, I had some online surveys to take the pulse of burnout in ministry.  Crystal has followed suit with the same idea.  She has created a website for women, or those who know women (either male or female) to talk about pornography addiction.

It will take you just a few minutes and help her out tremendously.

I’d love for you to do two things:

1) Visit the website, learn about Crystal, and complete a survey.

2) Anonymously or not, male or female, I’d love to hear your thoughts on pornography addiction.  Does it surprise you that women can be addicted?  How do you think the addictions are different?

i’m guilty of name dropping.

i’m guilty of only feeling confident when (insert important person’s name here) tells me i have value.

i’m guilty of saying one thing and doing another.

i’m guilty of not following through.

i’m guilty of being so self absorbed, i make you think i care…but i only care because i’m getting something out of it too.

i’m guilty of saying i’m going to pray for you and i don’t.

i’m guilty of pretending i don’t know the answer, when in reality, i just don’t want to help you.

all this to say, i’m guilty of being selfish.

a lot.

and it kind of hit me today, when pete was talking about whoever is the least…

i know i can get caught up in the junk of caring about who i’m associated with.

because the right people take you to the right places.

and those right places will leave you satisfied.

which is a load of bull.

and i think of who jesus associated himself with…

failures. sinners. the outcasts. the sick.

the untouchables.

nobody that would ever win a popularity contest.

or help him win a popularity contest.

but that’s why he was here.

that’s why we are here.

to be

and to be with

the least.

when ted haggard’s story first came out, i wrote this post. tuesday, i saw him on CNN.  yesterday, i saw him, his wife, and two of his kids on oprah.

the way he addressed his issues was more raw and honest than i expected.  the love his wife showed him, and the way his kids talked about him, was nothing short of phenomenal grace.

something he said made me mad though. really mad.  although, it didn’t really surprise me.

he had confessed his same-sex attraction to his wife early in their marriage.  he was abused by an adult male when he was really young, and that jacked him up.  that was the trauma.

a few years before he began acting out on his attraction, he went to some leaders and pastors he knew. he said he was wrestling with these thoughts even more and needed their advice.  some withdrew. others told him to keep his mind off of it by working harder for god.

after that, he confessed he didn’t know what to do with the struggle anymore.  he desperately wanted them to be gone, and he felt like he needed to hold up the “ideal” of a perfect husband, perfect father, perfect pastor.  he made the decisions to not talk, and to act out - but it goes back to show that so many times we feel like we can’t discuss our brokenness with other believers…

that.

breaks.

my.

heart.

we all can choose to talk about our problems, absolutely. and nobody can be responsible for making that decision but us.  the environments that the “church” has created, however, tells us something different. it creates an environment where we feel like we need to have everything figured out, or else we’ll face judgment, ridicule, and isolation.

that just ain’t right.

we’ve got to create environments of honesty.

and we have to lead the way.

no…not really.

get your mind out of the gutter.

that was just a completely shameless headline to get you to read this.

so here’s the real deal.

i am going down to the ATL to hang out with mr. ragamuffin soul and mr. stuff christians like tonight.

why?

we are planning something crazy.

and i guess it kind of involves stripping down.

but not in a way you think.

**we’ll be going live on mogulus sometime around 8 or 9 pm ET, giveortakeafew, to tell you all about it and answer your questions**

stay tuned to twitter to know for sure.

hope to see you then.

muahahahaha.**

—

**this post was written at 11:30 pm after a sleeping aid was ingested at 10:45 pm.

Can we have a serious conversation for a moment?

I realize this post may be controversial in nature, but that is not my intent.

The other day I was having a conversation with a girl I know. She’s a believer, and she’s gay.

She realizes what the Bible says about homosexuality, and she has decided the gay lifestyle is not for her. It’s a struggle. It’s not like she can flip a switch and all of the sudden “be straight.” She even started blogging about what she’s wrestling with. You can read it here.

As we were talking, she asked…

“Why?”

“Because the Bible says so” isn’t the answer she was looking for. That’s kind of a given.

It’s pretty easy to see why sins like murder or adultery or what-have-you-that’s-evil are sins. It’s because they ultimately involve hurting someone.

Why is being gay a sin?

“Because you’re hurting yourself” isn’t the answer either. When you’re gay, you love, just as straight people love. You want the best for someone.  Someone wants the best for you.

I told her outside of these plug and play answers we kind of just hand out when we discuss these things, I didn’t have an answer. Because I don’t. I can talk circles around hypothetical circumstances but when it comes down to it, I simply don’t have an answer for her. Neither did another friend who was with us.

And maybe sometimes there aren’t answers. We talked about that too.

So I asked her if I could pose this question to you. She said yes. And she’ll be reading these answers, so please keep that in mind as you write your response. If anyone gets out of line I will delete your comment.

So…why is being gay a sin?

having moved thirty three times in my short almost twenty-nine years, i’ve grown experienced in making a good first impression.  except for maybe the time i met w. paul young, the author of the shack, at catalyst.  that was terribly traumatic for my winning streak.

starting next week, for a month, i am out traveling and speaking a lot.  in front of people i don’t know in conferences where the male to female ratio of speakers is 9-1 (male) and, correct me if i’m wrong, but i think i’m also the only twenty-something speaking.  and probably one of the only ones who didn’t go to college. and…

this makes my heart a-flutter.  will i sound educated enough? will i seem old enough for people to take me seriously? can i really speak truth and wisdom into a man’s life?  will i have something stuck in my teeth?

insecurities abound…

my comfort is in assuming myself that i will make a good first impression.  i will look amazing, charm people with my wit and wow them with wisdom far beyond my years.  right?  right?

the wonderful dino rizzo twittered something the other day which i believe i will tattoo on my forearm in 120 point font:

“if in life we were sincerely more concerned to bless more instead of impress more, Jesus would enjoy it.”

this nugget is powerful in at least two very amazing ways.

first, i should only be out to do what i am called to do. to be obedient to the things placed in front of me, and not to worry about what man (or woman) thinks.

secondly, these things should sincerely bless people. if i am worried about ME ME ME, i am not worried about being a conduit for a divine message.

pastor dino’s words of wisdom have become my mantra and my prayer as i prepare for this next month of speaking and meeting lots and lots of people.

and if you’re one of them…i truly hope you are blessed with a message of hope far more than impressed with the messenger.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a few conversations with some friends of mine.  None of them know each other — they’re all living in different parts of the country doing different things.  But all of them have one thing in common:

They’re surrounded by people yet they feel so isolated.  They’re afraid to talk about what’s wrong.

A couple of them are really wrestling with past demons and addictions.  A couple others are having really bad marital problems.  Over lunch, another one told Chris and me that he was filing for divorce from his wife.  Their marriage had no hope.

Christmas time was hard for me (for a variety of reasons that are personal) and I felt isolated…it wasn’t because people were ignoring me, but because of choices I made to isolate myself.  I felt too insecure to share the darkness I was experiencing.

After talking with my friends who were also struggling and thinking about my own reasons for keeping quiet, I just can’t stop thinking about how many of us out there have the happy face on, but are almost hopeless on the inside.  Where, from 9-5 we are productive and joyful enough to not let anyone catch on but the moment we get home we collapse and fall back into the black hole that’s inside of us.

There’s more of us than you think.

I realize posts like this are a wee bit on the melancholy side of things, and that every time I write one I’m guaranteed an email from two people:

1) My mom, who gets worried.

2) The person who questions my spirituality because I wrestle depression.

Please let me address you both.

1) Mom - Just remember the talk we had on my layover in Dallas.

2) Self Righteous Person - You’re one of the reasons we don’t feel comfortable talking about our problems.

Sorry, but it’s true.

After my post about using medication to help with anxiety, someone actually got angry.  Something along the lines of “What do you have to be so depressed about? I can’t read this blog anymore.  I mean I’m worried about you, but there’s seriously something wrong.”

Gee, thanks.

Please pardon me while I curl up into a ball in a corner somewhere.

And feel free to kick me while I’m in that position too.

Galatians 6 has been a Scripture that has been weighing on my heart lately.  Verse 2-3 says:

Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.  If you think you are too important to help someone, you are only fooling yourself. You are not that important.

If we really carried each other’s burdens like Scripture says, I can’t help but to think that maybe, just maybe…we wouldn’t feel so afraid to talk about those dark areas.  We wouldn’t fear the judgment and criticism of others.  What if we actually look forward to confession because we knew the grace we’d receive, and the restoration that waited for us?

Could you imagine?

I’d like to.  But it’s really really hard.

And that’s what’s depressing, if you ask me.

“i can’t stand perry noble!”

i said that a lot to my husband a few years ago.

so, why the empathic disgust?  well, it’s obvious, don’t you think?  perry was bold and brash.  he had and shared his super strong opinions on church growth, how to do ministry, and a plethora of other terrible topics.  he was one of those pastors.  the ones that only cared about relevance and numbers.

a spiritual leader? pssshhhaw. what-ev-er.

and of course, the world needed to be warned.  back in my xanga blogging days, i actually encouraged people to send perry emails about a katrina relief campaign he was doing, saying how he was using a tragedy to get people into church (of all things!) i got into blog comment fights about him.  and once, i even had to ask tony morgan to remove one of the comments i left because after sleeping on it, i realized how flat out mean it was.

seriously.  perry and his blog made me so angry, i actually unsubscribed from it for a year or so.

and then my world got flipped upside down on me a few times.  i came crashing down in a pile of pride and self-righteousness and oh wow, was it ugly, and messy, and shameful.

and over the last year or so, i’ve had such clarity in how stupid i was.  how i was projecting my own lack of confidence and faith and pride and issues on perry.  i don’t know why he became the target, but he was.  i sent an email apologizing.  and perry was gracious enough not only to forgive me, but to selflessly contribute a “second opinion” section to mad church disease.

last night, i was talking to my husband chris at cracker barrel (which is what honestly sparked this whole post.  if you know anything about perry, you know his affinity for their biscuits).  and i saw the whole journey, from five years ago until now.  and how perry hasn’t changed much, but my perspective of him has.  and how that has little to do with him and more to do with the fact i stopped am trying to stop being a self-righteous jerk ball.

and i also think how i still read church blogs where someone thinks someone else’s church or ministry is awful, or how they’re doing things wrong, or for the wrong reason. or how they’re spending money inappropriately, or how “trendy” they are, or…whatever.

GET OVER IT.

that’s it. GET OVER IT.

it’s not worth it.  and if you’ve ever had the mirror turned back on you, you know exactly what i mean.

phillipians 1:18 has been a key verse in this journey of mine:

“So how am I to respond? I’ve decided that I really don’t care about their motives, whether mixed, bad, or indifferent. Every time one of them opens his mouth, Christ is proclaimed, so I just cheer them on!”

it’s easy to forget in general, but ESPECIALLY on blogs, there are so many people who aren’t believers looking in.  what kind of example are we setting?  that we’re a bunch of cry babies who can’t get along? a lot of the time…YES. that is exactly what we’re saying.

suck up the pride, bite your tongue, and listen to your momma.

if you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.

people will know us by the love we have for each other.

remember that.

it was interesting some of the emails i received about monday’s post on depression.  it made me realize a lot of people have some misunderstandings about what depression is and why some people battle it.

now, let me preface this by saying i am not a doctor or a psychologist (although i’ve been to more than my fair share of both) :-)  however, here are some common myths about depression i thought we’d remove so that everyone can have a better understanding.

why are you depressed?  i thought you loved your new job and it seems like stuff is going well for you.

you’re right.  i love my new job and things are going great.  for the first time, we’re not financially stressed out in our marriage, the relationships i have are incredible and i have never felt more at home than i do in nashville.  all of my external circumstances are awesome!  too bad depression isn’t caused by any of them.  sure, environments can influence ups and downs, but a lingering bit of sadness or feelings of low self worth means it’s probably something more.

to further prove this point, last year at this time i was going through probably one of the toughest times in my life.  i had an awful, no good, very bad situation i was walking through over the course of late fall and early winter.  on top of that, i was also weaning off of anxiety medication (stressful!), writing a book (stressful!), and getting ready to move from dallas to oklahoma city (stressful!)

but you know what? i had absolutely no symptoms of depression at all.  nada.

don’t worry.  if you trust god more, he’ll bring you through.

thanks for the kind and faithful words. and i don’t doubt that.  but depression generally has little to do with someone’s relationship with god.   if that were the case, every person without faith would be miserable and every person with faith would be happy all the time.   can i afford to spend more time with god? absolutely. depression isn’t caused by a bad relationship with god or healed by a good one.  if anything, i have to lean even more into that relationship (and the relationships with my husband and friends) to get the strength i need during the seasons of depression.

so, you wrote this book on burnout and you talk about being emotionally healthy.  your past struggles with this and your current struggle doesn’t really give the best example.  what gives you the right to write about this?

i won’t lie. that email hurt (and that is just a small snippet of it).  and the thoughts of my own human inadequacies haunt me all the time when i ask myself, “really, what authority do i have to speak into this topic? i’m struggling right there!” fortunately, i got another email after this one that said this.

Listen, your struggle doesn’t mean you are broken as a person, and it doesn’t make you less spiritual.  The devil is going to lie to you and say you have no business writing about Mad Church Disease with this going on.  Don’t give in to that lie!  Your experience and even your struggles uniquely qualify you to speak authoritatively on this subject.  God uses our weaknesses to demonstrate His strength in us.  I believe our precious Lord wants to take what the enemy meant to destroy you and use it to bring glory to Jesus.

that answer was for both the person who wrote the first email, and the demons that walk around in my brain.  but i know that question is something probably a lot of us wrestle with: what qualifies us to do the work we do when we screw up all the time?

grace.

so there you have it.  depression has little to do with your environment, relationship with god, and capacity to be used in this world.  it has much to do with our bodies’ brokenness, chemical imbalances, and the hand we’re dealt.  we honestly have very little control over it.

what we do have control over is how we manage it if we have it, or how we treat others who are struggling.

both require a little patience, a little wisdom, and a lot of love.

why is it we think that jesus always spoke in metaphors?  sure, he used parables and stories to communicate frequently, but recently i’ve been telling myself, “maybe he really meant that.”

i’m at a point in my personal faith where i have more questions than answers.  where i know the scriptures are divinely composed, yet i question the way i’ve been taught to interpret them over the last twenty years.  in sunday school, they seldom teach you about historical cultural context or literary patterns of the hebrew language.  scripture is timeless, but for the most part, we have taken the words and filtered them through a 21st century, westernized lens.

lots. of. questions.

atop of my questions are positioned relationships i have with those who don’t believe in god the way most of us do, if they believe at all.  most of these insights have challenged me to think about the words of jesus…his obvious call…and what should be our obvious answer.

my friend kary oberbrunner has a book coming out in the next couple weeks or so called the fine line.  since he is also a zondervan author, i begged and pleaded to get a copy early.  they gave in.  and it rocks.

here’s a nifty video about the book, and a sample chapter from the book.

one of my favorite parts of the book (granted, he uses proper capitalization) says,

“i’m not afraid to admit it: the sermon on the mount contains some startling commands.  like matthew 5:40: ‘if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.’ or matthew 5:42: ‘give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.’ or matthew 5:48: ‘be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly father is perfect.’

no wonder we look for ways to get ourselves off the hook of following these difficult sayings.  we toss out rationalizations.  ‘maybe they’re metaphors.’ ‘maybe they’re about some future time.’ ‘maybe they’re just suggestions.’

i think it’s christians who live like they’re ‘off the hook’ who cause people like mahatma gandhi to become critical of our religion.  he saw a disconnection between the way jesus lived and the way christians live.  because of this gandhi said, ‘if it weren’t for christians, i’d be a christian.’ gandhi didn’t disagree with jesus’ teachings.  he went on record to say, ‘i like your christ, but i don’t like your christians.’ and those of us who know gandhi’s story understand the sobering reality that he embodied the ethics described by jesus on the mount better than most christians.”

it is here where i wrestle.  why do people who understand, yet officially don’t associate with christianity live more transformed lives than we do?  why do those of us who say we believe fail to live like we are transformed by what we believe?

i’m doing some research for something…

and similar to, but not as focused as my post “sex rules” (wow, did that one get a little crazy or what?)…

can boys and girls just be friends?

and to what extent?

if you’re married? single? how do you keep it healthy? without being legalistic?

what does it mean to “honor your marriage?”

do people shut down potentially thriving relationships because it’s with a member of the opposite sex? how is this approached differently between believers and those who aren’t (especially since divorce rates are identical to each other).

how is this looked at from the viewpoint of those not in america?

are all emotional or intellectual connections between members of the opposite sex potential hazards to their respective marriages?

how much investment or relationship can or should married members of the opposite sex have with each other?

all skate…just share your thoughts on as much or as little of this as you want…whatever they are.

sometimes, i think i’m really smart. i did well in school, i use polysyllabic words, (i can spell polysyllabic), and know not to put metal things in the microwave.

sometimes though, i’m not smart. these moments usually involve two things.

1) choice of shoes (i.e., wearing high heels to run around large arenas for conferences)

2) directions, maps, roads, streets, or anything involving a “point a” and a “point b”

following a tragic day of wearing very high heels, in attempt to check into my hotel and change shoes before the evening events of the first day of catalyst, i fell victim to the street naming system of atlanta.

everything is peachtree road.

for example, my GPS directions to find my hotel included:

Go NW on Peachtree Rd NW
Take a slight left on Peachtree Rd
Turn left at Peachtree Ind Rd
Make an immediate right on NW Peachtree Rd*

after driving around in traffic for an hour and a half, i finally found my hotel, quickly changed my shoes, and at unheavenly rates of speed drove back to gwinnett for the deadly viper session.

arriving a few minutes late, my catalyst friend ben and i managed to find a two empty seats in the very middle, very upper, very back, very highest possible spot. during some of the transition times, we conversed on some catalyst things, some blogging things, some life things, and then he asked the money question:

“have you ever thought of shutting your blog down?”

i might as well have kept my high heels on, because it would have felt much more comfortable for him to have taken one of them off and then punch me repeatedly in my eye than for him to have asked me that question.

there was no good answer. i had thought about shutting my blog down once, but it lasted approximately .0002 seconds.

what would happen if i shut down my blog?

that question has been in my head for the last few days.

i imagined doing it. shutting it down, deleting my facebook account, my twitter account, then disappearing altogether from social networkland.

and after i recovered from hyperventilating, i pushed the thought out of my mind.

far out of my mind.

because there are many good reasons not to stop blogging - the community and the influence and change that this community has brought to issues of poverty and justice and faith.

but there is one reason my social media butterfly self couldn’t vanish.

and i wish i could say it’s valuable or worthwhile or noble. i couldn’t because if i did, i wouldn’t know what to do anymore.

i couldn’t…be.

i wouldn’t know who i am.

and i realize this is all my flawed thinking. my insecurity. my need for affirmation and worth and, dare i say, even attention?

it’s not pretty.

i’m not shutting down my blog. but wow, has that question challenged my motives.

======

*disclosure: GPS directions are represented with slight literary exaggeration

yesterday we talked about balls and it offended some people.  so i thought i’d come up with a female euphemism to complete the equation today. :)

my friend brandi (who is also the boss man’s wife) and i went to lunch, and more importantly - dessert - yesterday.  we visited gigi’s cupcakes over by vanderbilt and, as boomama would say,

OH MY LANDS!!!

heaven.

cupcakes are my kryptonite. i can never say no. and now that i have been to gigi’s, i fear i will be visiting over and over and over again…and that will just be tomorrow.

what’s your favorite sweet treat?

we have had some discussion on what happens when people confess and when people don’t confess.

today, i’d like to throw a theory your way….

one reason why people don’t confess:

…because deep down, they don’t want to change.

carry on.

the knock on the classroom door took nobody by surprise. in between defining the X and the Y axis, ms. gibson strolled over to let the visitor in. it was shirley, the school’s office assistant. at least, it looked like shirley. curly ribbons covered her arms like thin, plastic bracelets and balloons floated up and down, hiding her face. but it was shirley alright. her blue-gray hair peeked out just enough to identify her.

after she handed ms. gibson the balloons, she closed the large metal door as quietly as one could. even with her extra effort, the slam echoed down the empty hall, vibrating off lockers and the shiny tile floor.

ms. gibson looked down at the card sticking out of the vase where the balloons and a few flowers had been planted.

“it’s for you, jannelle. for your birthday. from your dad.”

blushing, yet secretly proud, jannelle walked to the front of the class to retrieve her gift. she didn’t like knowing every kid in her fourth grade class was watching her, but she couldn’t help but feel the swelling in her heart, knowing her dad remembered her birthday. he may not have been around much, but this yearly tradition always was a perfect reminder that she was loved.

while the rest of the class continued on to geometry, jannelle stared at the vase. it was short…more like a pot, really, than a vase. there were glittery moons and stars painted on the dark, midnight blue ceramic. it was just like the sky she would look out at every night from her front yard.

eventually, the balloons deflated and the flowers died a few days later, but jannelle held on to that pot like it was her most valued possession. she placed it prominently on her dresser back in her bedroom, using it as a container for jewelry or candles or other knick knacks that she picked up along the way.

and then jannelle grew up like most fourth graders do. she found her own two feet and started out on her own. the starry clay pot went along the journey with her.

from her first apartment to her first condo, through various rooomates and even different cities, the starry clay pot was like a quiet whisper of affirmation from her past. she got married, and as she unpacked her belongings in her new home, she carefully unwrapped the pot and placed it on the ledge above her kitchen sink.

she took a step back and stared at it. twenty years later, it was still in perfect shape. yet her heart grieved, knowing her relationship with her father and her family hadn’t traveled as well as this clay pot had. in fact, they hadn’t spoken to each other in quite some time.

one quiet, sunday afternoon, jannelle walked through the front door. casually, her husband said,

“you know that blue pot with the stars on it? i hope that wasn’t very important or anything.”

she could barely catch her breath.

“why?”

“it got bumped off the ledge. it shattered.”

the grief she felt earlier traveled from her heart into her stomach and then back in her throat again. there was a sad irony about the pot breaking. maybe it was time. time to embrace the fact that life and love looked different now than they did in the fourth grade. that family doesn’t always mean flesh and blood, but those who surround you and care about you and support you during all the seasons of your life.

no doubt there was something sentimental about a starry clay pot. and even though what’s left is now thrown out with empty cereal boxes and soda cans, jannelle can take a deep breath and let go. because she knows that outside, a real midnight blue sky with swirls of stars and a sparkly moon are waiting for her. and under that moon and those stars are people that love her.