Your Best Witness Protection Plan

"I've been part of two shop-lifting experiences," she told me this week, leaning across the coffee-shop table. Her blue eyes were wide in astonishment.

"You witnessed them?" I clarified for anyone eavesdropping.

Photo Credit: Flickr user Fourbyfourblazer, Creative Commons cc license

"Yes," she continued, telling me of brazen behavior by two bootlegging rogues.

"What did the store owners do? What did the police say?" My questions tumbled out.

"I just told them what I saw," she said, stopping to sip her peppermint tea. "We were glad the manager went out cautiously. What if the man had had a gun?"

We shook our heads.

At a recent women's weekend retreat I walked into a beautiful cedar-sided lodge. Silver-haired and white-haired grandmas chuckled, checked in, and carried their luggage into rooms stacked two-stories-high. Suddenly, an inexplicable shyness crept into me. What could my paltry forty-two year old frame try to teach wise grandmas?

"Just tell what you've seen. That's all I've ever asked you to do," I felt God whisper inside me.

Calm coiled and crept deep. My breathing lengthened. That's right, I smiled. This has never been about me, I reminded myself.

"God, this is for you," I spoke in audible soft words as I stepped across pine cone-strewn sand and under towering evergreens. The lake glimmered turquoise below the hill. I made up songs, singing them in breathy tunes, grinning crazy to myself.

"God, you're so good! Thank you...." I stammered in wooed, whipped love for him, naming his gifts and making up lyrics as I went, singing a love song for this God who weaves tri-color sunsets, stretches pine trees tall, and who tells me again and again, "Just say what you've seen."

In our comparing-prone world, we can forget it so fast, huh? I can. And then the truth comes crashing back. I am loved, delighted in, enough, sufficient in Jesus, and absolutely free. Loved unconditionally by the God of the universe, I am free. The weightlessness of that bubbles up tall most days, stretching my shoulders wide in joy. Later, and throughout that weekend, we got to pour over God's words together and watch him move and teach all of us. I was thrilled and thankful to be a part of that.

I saw it this Sunday morning and my giggles shook the bench. My husband glanced at me, and shook his head grinning. I pointed, and he smiled too, but my mirth was evidently greater. I sang and laughed, switching from one verse to another, giggling harder as I sang.

Because caught up in the joyful song, two little girls in the front row of church were tossing their baby dolls into the air. Blond plastic braids flying wide in the air, the dolls arched up, froze for a second and then curved earthward again. Their owners caught them, swung their legs in joy, and catapulted their dolls again.

The song* sang about freedom and joy and new life, and I felt a bit like soaring as well.

"Oh your grace so free 
Washes over me
You have made me new
Now life begins with you 
It's your endless love
Pouring down on us
You have made us new
Now life begins with you...

Free, free, forever we're free..."

Throwing dolls in the air seemed like a perfect response to me too. I giggled and kept singing, my face wide from smiling. Because our best witness protection plan is to rest safe in who we are in God, and to just say what we've seen.

* "Death Was Arrested" by Coker, Smith, Kersh, & Ballztglier. 

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To the Women and Daughters Beside You and Me

"This was Anja?" 

Photo: Andrew Iverson, Creative Commons, cc license

Bouncing jaunty shoulders to big band swing, her blonde curl ringlets dipped and swayed too. In a crowd of several hundred, we gaped in surprise and shook heads in mirthful laughter. Our reserved Finnish high schooler had a larger-than-life dramatic side of her that we didn't often see. The show-choir dance piece ended with thirty synchronized bows and our two rows of moms and daughters clapped, grinned, and cheered.

Before the show, four carloads of us met for a Mexican supper, dragging restaurant tables closer, shaping a long line of friends. Moms and daughters, young and older, pulled up chairs, and dipped salty tortilla chips into fresh red salsa. Laughter ricocheted loudly in our corner of the dark restaurant, and moms shushed an end table of teens while the waiter leaned in close to hear our order.

And throughout the evening, an elementary girl wrapped arms close with a middle school girl. Senior high girls smiled and pulled in the younger girls, talking with them across the tables, and dragging them into group photos. Twenty-year olds mingled in with forty-year olds, whispering and giggling throughout the night, and the beauty of it was priceless. 

In between the Broadway hits and the jazzy big band songs, one girl on stage caught my attention. She wasn't one of my youth group girls that I knew or had met, but she was someone. And we all are, huh? She is someone's daughter, someone's friend, someone's sister, and the sight of her made me tear up. Dancing with great talent in a blue sequined dress, her sunken cheeks and bone-thin legs and arms sent warning lights off in my brain. With her inherent soulful inner beauty never in question, this young teen was either recovering from ravaging illness or she was in the deep throes of anorexia. My youth worker's heart ached to  know how I could help, and I wanted to assure her that she was strong, and that her beauty was never trapped to a dress size, and that there was hope and help. She danced determinedly across the stage, mincing steps on legs that seemed too narrow to support her, and I choked back tears. "You have always been lovely and capable, brimming with potential, you --this young sister/daughter that I do not know. How can we come alongside and help?" I whispered silently, uselessly. Knowing my only choice was to pray, I tapped my toes to the rhythm, cheered the teams on, and prayed for this girl, and all the teens on stage.

My role? Your role? To model and tell the girls and women around us of their value, their beauty, and the strength and potential that has been imprinted in them by their Creator. We bear the stamped-in seal of the Star-Breather, the Galaxy-Spinner, and the Light-Bringer. Over grilled steak tacos in the restaurants, and when cheering on big band singers, while leaning over to speak with twenty-somethings, sixteen-year olds, and everyone in between, we get to invest in each other, and talk about our amazing God who loves, and creates, and spins works of art.

Hi friends. Join me in this endeavor? It is such an honor and joy that we get to invest in and treasure these relationships around us.

Hey, if you think about it, would you pray with me about some upcoming speaking engagements? I am honored to speak at some MOPS groups and women's conferences on Feb. 5th, Feb. 18th, March 6 & 7th, and March 19th? I am honored, and love this chance to spend time praying for these women beforehand too. Thank you. How can I pray for you? (Those in email can click here to comment.)

Why Community is Worth It and Why You and I Need It

Photo: Young Rok Chang, Creative Commons, cc license

Cris-crossed pale skin marked out where the young girl's swimsuit straps normally lay. Tiny caramel-colored shoulders and back hunched shivering inside the church in a black funeral dress. The summer tan on that small girl several rows up from me just bellowed out the contrast of this sudden funeral. Friday attendees slid quietly into wooden pews, and a row of us lined up in solidarity. Community in that moment looked like singing along to worship songs that spoke of heaven and that clung to the promise that God never lets go "through the calm and through the storm." Community was wiping tears, hugging tightly, and grinning over stories of potbellied baby pigs and tractors, before going back for seconds on the delicious green jello dessert and the home-made sweet pickle slices.

Sunday morning, peeking out across the church audience during a song, I spied two former youth group girls from years ago. Connecting after the church service, we hugged, smiled, and tried to cram several months' or years' worth of information into a morning conversation. Community was remembering stories, names, details, and being thrilled to see each other again. We laughed and wished for more time, and a coffee date still needs to be planned.

Sunday night I watched women of all ages compete in blind-folded diapering contests on two mannequin babies at a baby shower. Gentle, white-haired Marilyn groaned good-naturedly and tried to get out of the second-round of competition by diapering slowly. The younger and older women around us shrieked laughter to see this surprise streak of rebellion in her. Marie and I raced valiantly, but Marie won by a split second. Bible study women from the last year, accustomed to digging in deep to the Bible and to each others' lives, arranged lemon bars and marshmallow brownie bite desserts on their laps as Melissa balanced Gail's bifocals on her nose and held the Bible out at arm's length to read her devotional. Community was women laughing together, passing wrapped baby gifts, and nodding in agreement as Melissa read of God's perfect love that is strong enough to kick out fear, and of this God-King who chases us and loves us, no matter where we go. 

"I've never been in a church where I felt so much like I belonged, as I do here," she said, the young pregnant mom, curly hair winding around her freckled face. We nodded, glad that she felt welcomed and safe in our church, but we saw too that this was a bigger thing. Women in this Bible study came from several different churches so Alicia's feelings pointed to something greater.

Community. We need it, we desire it, and, I'm learning, it's something we have to fight for, and invest in. Can I confess to you that many days my extrovert-introvert mixed personality needs to be reminded to step outside and to invest in people? Some days the allure of a quiet book, a television series, or the valid tasks that need to be done around me pull harder than choosing people. And while we all need down time, the truth is we all need community too.

Because the truth is, I am a better person for having known Julie and Nellie, Mihaela, Marie, Marilyn, Becky, and so many more. I learn from them and from their stories, and we have the privilege of being in various communities together.

And you? You have potential for community all around you. The neighbor across the street, the young mom who sits three rows up from you in church, or the somber-faced guy at the gym playing basketball each week, and the older widow you know. You are missing out, and I don't want you to, and they are missing out on not having known you yet.

So, put down the book with me, and turn off Netflix too, please? Can we encourage each other today to step outside and engage? The loss is too great not to. You are a better you, with them around you, and I am a better me because of them around me. 

Besides, you can't imagine the hilarity of seeing women battle it out in blindfolds and diapers.

Do You Feel It Calling You?

Artist Thomas Rousing, Creative Commons, cc licensing

Can you remember it? The first time someone pointed it out to you or the first-time you noticed that feeling in your chest?

It might have been the way you caught that football pass while diving into the grass, or after they caught you belting out a song when you thought you were alone. It might have come in a teacher's scrawl at the bottom of a writing assignment, words that said, "You have talent. Keep going."

Was it about your drawing skills, or your speed in math, or how you are able to hold captive the attention of twenty children's eyes in elementary school and Sunday School?

Whether someone else noticed it yet or not, there is something you do that brings you joy. There is something you do that grabs your attention, gives you a little lift, and makes you want to strive all the more.

Famous Olympic runner Eric Liddell once said, "I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run, I feel his pleasure."

What is it for you that brings you joy, that calls you out to pursue further? For me, words and teaching grab my heart. I love learning new things, and then turning those concepts over and over in my mind, wrestling with how to best capture and describe them, linking them with other ideas. I love most of all learning about our Creator God, seeing his heart for his world and the transformative work he does. His artistic sculpting of people's lives and history amazes and delights me.

This weekend I get to join talented women like Angie Smith, Dee Brestin, Susie Larsen, and many more from across the nation to speak at the Set Apart Conference in St. Paul, Minnesota. These are women who love God and are passionate about using their words to share God's wild chasing love for his creation. And for me, I am honored to speak alongside them. When I get to talk about God, it feels like worship to my King.

If you are near the Minneapolis-St. Paul area and wish to join us, feel free to click here for any last-minute tickets. Join thousands of women from across the Midwest to get to know this God of hope, our Artist God. Feel free to come see me too. I would love to meet you and talk more. I am sharing "The Seven Needs of a Husband" in sessions A and B, on both Friday and Saturday.

What is it that brings you joy? What do you do that excites you? Would you join me this week in saying, "This thing, God? I'm doing it for you. It's worship to you."

I'd love to hear what yours is.

What Every Comparing-Prone Woman Needs to Know

This lovely woman's photo found here by Dan Hutcheson, Creative Commons, cc

I can see it now. The twelve men hunkered down around a small Middle Eastern table, knees brushing up against each other, carefully trying to edge their muddy feet away from the clothing around them.

Similar to Mardi Gras or the Super Bowl, the city was flooded with people in for the big event of the Passover. Rented rooms, hotels, and banquet halls were going fast, and this leased room didn't appear to have come with a hostess.

With no one there to handout the typical Hospitality Welcome package of a wet towel to clean up from the day's travels, each man had strode in, stood awkwardly by the door for a moment, and then crouched down at the table. Even the marvels of Roman engineering couldn't halt the dust and mud that accumulated after just minutes of treading on the busy roads outside.

Striving to look nonchalant, the twelve men skipped the traditional step of washing off the day's dirt, and stooped low to eat. Scooping fragrant garlic hummus and eggplant mousaka into folds of brown pita bread, they laughed and ate, pausing to pop oiled olives into their mouths.

Mid-meal, their teacher stopped eating, brushed some crumbs from his face, and stood up.

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God, so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples' feet, drying them with the towel that was around his waist. (John 13:3-5)

I am struck each time I read this by the word "so." Grammatically and linguistically, the two parts of that sentence are linked and clearly connected. Knowing who he was, and where he was going, compelled Jesus to serve. Knowing who he was and his purpose freed him to set aside any needs to prove he was the best, the highest, the most acclaimed. Knowing who he was freed him to serve in humble joyful love.

In my day to day life, when I remember who I am in Jesus and what my purpose in life is, I am freed to humbly serve others. When I remember who God says I am, I don't need to be threatened by others' successes or failures, nor do I need to compare myself, worrying that I am falling short. 

Knowing who we are in God's eyes and why we are here, we can then pause and love others in humble joy. And our true audience? He's watching and smiling. 

How Do I Thank God for THAT?

 I pour myself another cup of coffee and hear a semi truck's rumbling exhales on the road outside. A friend's question has been tumbling through my head this last week and a half.

"I know I can thank God for even the hard things in my life -- and with hindsight now, I can see where he's brought beauty in those things -- but in my child's life?" she types. " To thank him for abuse in her life? How do I do that? Am I supposed to?"

The question hangs in cyberspace as I read it, ponder it, and then walk away to give it the thought it deserves. In the busy two weeks that follow, it tickles my brain.

At two women's retreats, I join other lovely speakers to talk on the theme of "Chased by Grace." In my sessions on Nehemiah, we walk through hope-infused stories of a refugeed people standing up from the rubble in their lives, strapping on swords, and rousing to "Fight for your brothers, your sons and daughters, your husbands and wives, and your homes."   "...And our God is fighting for us!" Nehemiah yells. Again and again in that historical account from the 400s BC, we see God's huge hand bringing beauty from rubble. An expert Architect, he rebuilds the ruins of a city and the ruins of peoples' lives. And he did it in such a way that the enemies and surrounding nations realized that "this work had been done with the help of our God." 

Back home from the retreats, a blonde-haired friend and I text about an upcoming informational breakfast against human trafficking. In addition to going, we decide to sponsor a table, rallying more people to fight against human trafficking and to rescue women and teens. (Want to join us? Nov. 2 in Minneapolis. It's free! Let me know.) We talk details and I slip my red phone back into the wooden bowl on the counter. Thinking of young girls and guys trapped in sexual slavery sinks sadness into me. Even that, God? What does it look like to give thanks in everything?

Curled up on the couch with my Bible and study materials, I come across the familiar verse in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 ("...in everything, give thanks...") and suddenly a grammar preposition changes everything. It didn't say "FOR everything, give thanks" but "IN everything" -- like through everything, in all circumstances, not for all circumstances.

This freedom, then, to not have to say thank you for abuse on children, for cancer in healthy cells, for poverty around the world-- for whatever hard things wait for you back home.

This injunction, this invitation, to-- in all circumstances-- still thank God: 
-that he is big enough to handle even this
-that he can be trusted to rebuild this ruin and bring beauty from even this
-that he has a track record of restoring and redeeming the broken fallout of other humans' bad choices. 

This tremulous release of opening hands to say, Okay, even in this, even in this, somehow...

-That even in our dark moments, in our hurt and pain, we can cry out like David in the Psalms, "Lord, slay the wicked!" and you get even that, God.

-That you are the Perfect Judge before whom we must all stand one day and give an account for every word and deed.

And that you are in the business of restoring lives, rescuing the widows and the orphans, and you call us to "Stand up and fight (alongside you)." Fight for your brothers, your sisters, your sons and daughters, your husbands/wives, your nieces and nephews, your grand-kids, and neighbors. "Our God will fight for us!" 

And, in this, I can give thanks and unclench my hands.

I love hearing from you. What hard things can you list in the "even this..." pile? (Those getting this via email can click here to join the conversation.)

(Linking with Emily.)

Photo credit. 

 Note: Perpetrators still need to be reported, processed, punished; survivors still need to be believed, rescued, counseled. For a helpful poignant book on surviving abuse, I appreciated Mary DeMuth's book "Thin Places."

Chased

The tops and corners of the trees where the sun's gaze lingered longest turned crimson and trembled in the breeze. My five year old and I walked hand in hand down the pebbled path into the woods, our shadows stretching long against the browning cattails beside us. He scampered on ahead then, whacking branches with his grey stick. I pursued him down the path, keeping him in sight, protective even in the calm woods.

"When you want, we can fight bad guys," he offered graciously, thinking of imaginary sword battles. I thanked him and we broke off the path into a wooded clearing of downed trees. Green moss crept across darkening logs that sank imperceptibly into the ground.

Finding a flat perch several feet off the ground with a branch backrest, I sat back, breathed in the clean earthy scent, and swung my feet. Daniel clambered over dead branches and hacked hollow at old logs, and I felt peace settle over me. An October blue sky peeped from behind the leafy canopy overhead, aspens and maples rustled all around us, and the sun poured golden puddles onto crisp brown leaves. My eyes found silent beauty everywhere and I named them aloud, thanking God.

Coming off a four-day women's retreat at Camp Lebanon, filled with innumerable opportunities to meet, get to know, worship with and pray with women from across Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin and North Dakota, I have been seeing God's hand all weekend. Speaking alongside Cynthia Ruchti, Kristen Spielman,Sarah Lein, and Jean Erbst, we dug into God's word and encouraged each other to see God's grace that chases --pursues-- every one of us.

After a weekend of worship and wonderful women, I arrived home Sunday, counting God's gifts and eager to see family. My family and I've cuddled, hugged, and lingered long these past days, soaking up time together before this next weekend's second retreat. (Pray for this weekend, will you? Join us in praying God's blessings on this new group of women and for us presenters that God would speak through us, for his glory.)

And our God--your loving Creator? He walks the pebbled path with you, pursuing you, chasing after you with his goodness and love every day, alert even in the seeming calm of the woods.

Three-Tiered Living-- It's Worth it

She drives up wearing pink oval sunglasses, blonde hair pulled into a loose pony tail. Jumping out of the car, N* ambles up, greeting us, and nodding warmly at the younger teen she is picking up. Taller with shorter; a woman in her twenties with a teen in high school, they are headed out on a mentoring/friend date.

I've watched this twenty-something woman grow up. Peering over piles of sticky pancakes when she was in middle school, we talked about the Psalms, and life, and friendships. Perched on tall coffee stools in high school, we had laughed and talked about boys, friendships, family, and our faith.

"Will you mentor me?" she asked once early on, and I was honored, humbled, and ill-equipped. I sought out books on mentoring, and we met regularly, opening up our lives, sharing prayer requests, and talking about what we were learning.

Years passed. N* graduated from high school, from college, and married a Jesus-loving man-- whom we had talked about and prayed for. (I think about our coffee dates now and smile at how God answers prayer.)

This summer she moved back to the region, my dear former youth group girl, now an adult female friend. Sitting in my backyard, we picked at stubby grass and laughed, opening up our lives. We shared what we had been learning, grinned at God's provision, and ended in quiet voices. "Can we pray about this....?"

"Oh, I'm doing a Bible study with K*," she said smiling while preparing to leave, mentioning one of my youth group girls. Brown-haired K*, with twinkling eyes and a determined attitude like her mama, she and I have had coffee dates too, talking about life, friends, families and faith. I see strength and compassion in her, and she is intentional about reaching out to her younger brothers and sisters.

Ahh, this full circle life! This pouring out of life from one person to the next. It is a beautiful thing, and one that brings life and joy. Learning from each other, young and old, we get to pull back the curtain on our lives, growing and praying together, in this three-tiered life. 

And the cycle doesn't stop with us three women. In my early years of parenting, I listened to N's mom in Bible studies, watching how she parented, and feeling relieved by her honesty and humanness; and I learn from K's mom too. N and all of my former teens-- now adults in their twenties and thirties, with their own jobs, homes, and families-- teach and inspire me often. And this current batch of teens in youth group, full of energy and enthusiasm? They teach me too.

And together, we learn and grow, pouring out and into each other. Beside me, I see them swivel to pour into others' lives as well, and it makes me smile.

Who is someone who poured into you when you were younger? 

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose.

Photo credit #1
Photo credit #2

Leadership Teams and Seeking God's Leading

At work today as the church Body Life Coordinator, I have been brainstorming the small group line ups for this fall. My desire is to not simply create events for events' sake in today's overly-busy world, but to prayerfully choose what will best benefit my church body. My desire is for them to be connected with each other as a church family, to grow, learn, serve, be transparent, and to support each other as we all strive to love and serve Christ more. So I seek out feedback from the congregation and seek out my Abba Daddy's heart, wanting to hear His voice.

As summer winds down to a close, I imagine that your women's Leadership team meetings are kicking into last minute high gear too. If you have one or two last spots to fill for your speakers 2011-2012 lineup, let me offer you first pick of a brand new workshop for this year. Or feel free to use any of my other messages.

Preschoolers: Intentional Parenting

By request, a workshop on parenting our preschoolers and toddlers with a larger purpose in mind. With the high energy of constant “Why’s?” and “No, Don’t Touch that!,” it’s too easy to simply parent reactively, or in pure survival mode.  We have all done that. Take this chance to sit back, peak into God’s word, and get the larger purposes involved in parenting preschoolers and toddlers. Walk away with handy tips to diffuse tantrums, enable choices, retrain rude mouths, and build peaceful sibling relationships. Plus be inspired anew to create a sense of awe and wonder for our kids’ Creator! 

Contact me and my speaker board at (763) 780-9812 if you are interested. In the meantime, may you and I both enjoy sitting at the feet of our Abba/Daddy.