You Romance Me

You know how to romance.

Sure, there are the easy things,
like flowers picked up at the grocery store
when I ask you to stop and get the eggs that I forgot to buy.
Or the gold earrings you chose for me that I wear almost every day.

You say the obligatory
I love you's
and
You're beautiful's
that make me smile and blush, even after 15 years.

You know how to romance according to the books.
You compliment, you serve, you defer.
You follow the rules of romance.

But you color outside of those heart-shaped boxes.

You shower me with laptop batteries
and ninja t-shirts
and Terminator DVDs.

You whisper sweet nothings like
That's terrific bass
and
Hey baby. I'm, like, pretty tall
that make me laugh and love you more deeply than I could imagine.

You know things that the books could never tell you,
not in a million years,
about how to make me weak in the knees.
So you've added pages.

You know how to romance me.

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Do you have any "unique" expressions of romance with your spouse? If you're not married, do you and your friends have any special things that might not look fun to anyone but you?

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This is a part of the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival hosted by Peter Pollock. You can read more submissions and add your own here.

This Son of Yours

I've written about the older brother in the story of the prodigal son before. Because I've been a Christian my whole life, I've always identified with him more than with the son who ran away.

Yesterday our pastor Bill spoke about the older brother. During his reading of the passage in Luke, one phrase jumped out at me that I hadn't ever noticed before. I've resonated with the older son's attitude, but hadn't paid attention to the words a whole lot.

The older brother is feeling slighted. He has been working in the fields and he comes home to find that there is a party going on. A party for the son who ran away. A party for the son who dishonored his family name.

And in the midst of his tirade to his father about the injustice of this situation, he says the following phrase:

"This son of yours."

How have I missed that?

The older brother acknowledges that they are in the same family, but he completely separates himself from his brother.

He could have said, "this brother of mine" but that would indicate a level of closeness. There might have been some temptation to bind the two of them together. Instead, he cuts himself off from the relationship by ignoring their kinship.

I do this all the time. Every time that I talk about how "that person doesn't really represent Christianity," I'm saying, "this son of yours." Every time I talk about "that pastor" or "that church member" or "that congregation" I'm putting a wall between myself and a brother or sister in Christ. Sure, we might call ourselves Christians, but we're not really in the same family. When I deny the relationship that I have with them, it becomes easier to have an attitude that is self-righteous and judgmental.

It's okay to disagree, even to disagree strongly. But before I do that, I need to make sure that I'm approaching them not just as the Father's child, but also as my brother or sister.

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Do you ever slip into the "older brother" syndrome of separating yourself from other people of faith? What is the best way you can combat that attitude?

Love Stories

I write about love all the time. I am drawn to stories about love. My favorite books, movies, songs - they all speak of love. Love that's sexy, love that's funny, love that's romantic, love that's friendly, love that's weird, love that's familial, love that's enduring.

I love these stories because they speak to The Love.

Which is why stories like the one that my friend Matthew shared at his blog earlier this week are so upsetting to me. There is love mentioned, but it's a love that it punitive and harsh. A love that holds someone at arm's length and encourages others to do the same. A love that shames someone for their sins, even after those sins have been confessed.

1 Corinthians 13 gives us a list of what love is and is not:

• Love is patient
• Love is kind
• Love does not envy
• Love does not boast
• Love is not proud
• Love does not dishonor others
• Love is not self-seeking
• Love is not easily angered
• Love keeps no record of wrongs
• Love does not delight in evil
• Love rejoices with the truth
• Love protects
• Love trusts
• Love hopes
• Love perseveres

When you write about love as often as I do, you hear people warn about love or suggest that love in the Church isn't like love in the books and movies and song. But I have to mostly disagree with that. The really good stories about love resonate deeply with us because they show the things listed above.

They are stories about people continuing to love through difficult circumstances. They are stories about people holding one another close even when it would be easier to leave. They are stories about people standing up for the wounded, the broken, the bleeding, the down-trodden. They are stories about relationships that people wouldn't expect, but that thrive anyway. They are stories of putting someone else first.

Is there a time for discipline? Absolutely. Without discipline, we don't grow.

But when I read something Matthew 18 in the context of how Jesus lived his life, I see a never-ending loop of love woven in with the discipline. If someone refuses to repent, we treat them as a tax collector. Jesus has a tax collector as one of his disciples. He singles them out as the person with whom he wants to eat. Later in Matthew 18, Jesus tells the parable of the unforgiving servant, who ends up in jail. But if I believe that Jesus took all of the sins of the world on his shoulders at the cross (and I sure do), that is also covered in love.

We are surrounded by stories of love. In our world, in our homes, in our churches. Today, let's look for someone who needs a bit of that love.

Let's create more love stories.

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What's your favorite love story? 

15 Reasons Why I'd Do It Again

Today Jason and I celebrate fifteen years of marriage! To each other! Consecutively! Exclamation points!

All joking aside (for the record, it is never, ever aside in our house), I am ridiculously happy to be married to Jason. He is my most favorite person and I consider myself lucky beyond words to get to spend my life with him.

After fifteen years, I would, without hesitation, marry this man again. Here are just a few of those reasons:

1. He makes me laugh harder than anyone else.
2. He knows how to play.
3. He is the most honest person I've ever met.
4. He has a killer ass.
5. We never run out of things to talk about.
6. He is smart, but never gets tired of learning more.
7. He is generous, even when he doesn't have much to give.
8. ***censored***
9. He is passionate.
10. He has always treated me with respect, even when we disagree.
11. He introduced me to Beavis & Butt-head
12. He produces ridiculously good-looking children.
13. He agrees that for our fiftieth anniversary, we will go to a clothing optional resort.
14. He chooses to put others, including me, ahead of himself.
15. He tells me that he loves me every single day.

Happy anniversary, baby. I hope I've given you even a fraction of what you've given me. I love you.

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What's your favorite thing about your significant other? If you're not with someone, what is something that you're looking for in a mate?

Repost: Peace at the Laundromat

This is probably one of my favorite things that I wrote this year. Jason got me a new laptop battery for Christmas, but this definitely taught me that my best response to stuff that makes me THIS angry is taking a few minutes to calm myself. With this being an election year, I'll have to find time to launder lots of big items.


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I was livid. A prominent pastor said "Some of you, God hates you." This flies in the face of everything I believe about the God I serve, and it had me all fired up. I watched the full sermon to make sure I wasn't missing anything and it left me even more angry and hurt. I was composing a post in my mind. I was ready to ask some hard questions and make some strong statements.

But I had to take my comforter to the laundromat. My laptop battery is completely fried, so I took some crochet work with me and figured I'd write the post when I got home.

I shoved my giant comforter into the oversized washing machine and plunked the quarters in the slot. Sloshed some lavender scented detergent in the hole and set it to wash. My mind was racing as I sat down and started to crochet.

The project that I was working on was a baby blanket for a close friend. He and his wife are expecting their third child and I want to give them something personal for this little one. Usually when I'm working on a piece, I spend time praying for the person who will receive it. So I was praying for this little one. Praying for her healthy delivery. Praying for her parents and siblings as they make this transition to add a new member to their family. Praying that she will know that she is loved by those in her life and by God. Praying that she will give love to others.

The washing machine buzzed, alerting me that the cleaning was complete. I took my sweet smelling, but now extra heavy comforter to the dryer.

I picked up the blanket and started crocheting again. A couple came in and started their own laundry and then sat down beside me. We exchanged brief pleasantries, and then I turned back to my project. They began talking between themselves about jobs and money. Jobs that were ending in two months and money that wasn't going to last much longer than that. As I changed yarn to the variegated yarn that reminds me of the ocean, my prayers shifted from my friends to this couple I don't know.

As the machine dried my comforter, my prayers moved from them to others. For children who are going to bed hungry tonight. For husbands and wives that don't love each other any more. For pastors who have questions about what they're preaching. For my angry heart.

With each stitch, with each prayer, my heart was calmed.

"Whoever would love life and see good days must keep their tongue from evil and their lips from deceitful speech. They must turn from evil and do good; they must seek peace and pursue it." (1 Peter 3:10-11, NIV, emphasis mine)

I put away my crochet and gathered my clean, warm, blanket from the dryer. Wished the couple sitting with me a good evening. Climbed in my van, came home, and wrote a different post.

I hadn't planned on pursuing peace, but it found me at the laundromat.

My Favorite

I don't use the word favorite the way that it's supposed to be used. It's supposed to mean "preferred before all others of the same kind." But I tend to be a lot more generous in my use.

My favorite book is John Irving's A Prayer for Owen Meany. Unless it's E. B. White's Charlotte's Web. Or maybe The Stand by Stephen King.

I probably have 20 favorite movies. Not favorite movies for a particular mood or favorites in different genres. No, even within those, I still have more than one favorite.

Same with foods, television shows, holidays, bands. If you ask me for my favorite song off of a CD, I'll give you three. If you ask me for my favorite time of day, I'll give you a choice. If you ask me my favorite hair coloring product, I'll list the last half a dozen colors that I've used. I'll make favorite things lists that rival Maria von Trapp's any day.

I'm not very good at the favorite game.

But there is one constant favorite. A favorite that has been the same for more than half my life. A favorite who, despite his advancing age, has been my best friend, my biggest supporter, my hardest laugh provider, and most amazing husband ever.

Today is Jason's birthday, and I want him to know, that of all of my favorites out there, he is my most favorite favorite.



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Tell me about some of your favorites. Favorite people, foods, art, whatever. Just favorites.

Tainted Love

I've written a few times about how I don't think that we in the Church really trust that we're loved by God. I believe this is true and accounts for most of the issues that we have in our dealings with those who aren't Christians (and a lot of people who ARE Christians, but don't believe the same way that we do).

Yesterday in the green room I had a fantastic conversation with our associate pastor about this and I think he may have a key to the unlocking this a bit more.

We talk all the time about God's love. We quote John 3:16, "For God so loved the world..." We know that we're supposed to love our neighbors as ourselves. We even know that we're to love our enemies.

And in the process, we may have devalued the idea of love.

We've thrown around love so much that it doesn't really mean anything to us any more. Loving everyone becomes a duty for us. There's not really joy or pleasure taken in loving someone, it's just another obligation. As a result, we assume that God feels the same way.

One thing you'll often hear Christians say is that we love someone, but we don't like them. If we're honest, the fact is, that just means that we don't love them either. It's just words that we're saying because we're supposed to, not because we mean it.

My pastor's suggestion is brilliant - we start to talk about God liking us.

You tell someone who's a Christian that God loves them, and it's all, "Yeah, I already know that." But you tell them that God likes them? And it has a different connotation.

When I think about people that I like, it's a whole different dynamic. I want to spend time with them. I want to know their thoughts about subjects, even if we disagree. I want to hear their stories. I will believe the best about them no matter what. Like implies a choice.

I think people outside of the Christian culture get that love should imply a deeper, more profound attachment. Which is why I think the idea of love being applied across the board is difficult to grasp for many outside of the faith.

After talking to my pastor yesterday, I think it can be difficult to grasp inside of the faith as well.

So Christian readers, today I want you to know that God likes you. Personally. Without obligation.

He likes you.

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Does hearing that someone likes you bring about a different response to you as well? Do you think that we have misused the word love and therefore cheapened it? What are the differences that you see between "like" and "love"?

God's Judgment/God's Love

Earlier this week, my friend Neece posted this on Facebook:

I helped represent our local secular humanist organization at Diversity Week at WVU today. A girl walked past and said, "Oh, you guys are atheists?" To which I said, yes. And she said, "I hope you die." How very Christian of her, don't you think?

It makes me sad any time I see this kind of thing. I don't think that it's indicative of most people of faith, but I know that it's certainly a larger number than I'd like to believe. There are those who believe that God hates people, and that as such, it is apparently okay for them to hate right along with him.

For many of us though, we still place conditions on God's love. He's loving BUT he's just. He's loving BUT he's wrathful. He's loving BUT he's holy. So we might not say something quite so hateful as "I hope you die" to an atheist, but we know that they'll get theirs in the end. We just let God do the judging and we can keep our hands clean.

Then my friend Tony posted this on Twitter this morning:

"All of God's judgement 

is toward that which interferes with His love" 

~Mike Bickle

What would happen if I started asking myself, "Is this interfering with God's love?" when I starting adding the buts in my description of God? Would it change how I interact with people? Would it change how I treat myself?

What do you think?

Peace at the Laundromat

I was livid. A prominent pastor said "Some of you, God hates you." This flies in the face of everything I believe about the God I serve, and it had me all fired up. I watched the full sermon to make sure I wasn't missing anything and it left me even more angry and hurt. I was composing a post in my mind. I was ready to ask some hard questions and make some strong statements.

But I had to take my comforter to the laundromat. My laptop battery is completely fried, so I took some crochet work with me and figured I'd write the post when I got home.

I shoved my giant comforter into the oversized washing machine and plunked the quarters in the slot. Sloshed some lavender scented detergent in the hole and set it to wash. My mind was racing as I sat down and started to crochet.

The project that I was working on was a baby blanket for a close friend. He and his wife are expecting their third child and I want to give them something personal for this little one. Usually when I'm working on a piece, I spend time praying for the person who will receive it. So I was praying for this little one. Praying for her healthy delivery. Praying for her parents and siblings as they make this transition to add a new member to their family. Praying that she will know that she is loved by those in her life and by God. Praying that she will give love to others.

The washing machine buzzed, alerting me that the cleaning was complete. I took my sweet smelling, but now extra heavy comforter to the dryer.

I picked up the blanket and started crocheting again. A couple came in and started their own laundry and then sat down beside me. We exchanged brief pleasantries, and then I turned back to my project. They began talking between themselves about jobs and money. Jobs that were ending in two months and money that wasn't going to last much longer than that. As I changed yarn to the variegated yarn that reminds me of the ocean, my prayers shifted from my friends to this couple I don't know.

As the machine dried my comforter, my prayers moved from them to others. For children who are going to bed hungry tonight. For husbands and wives that don't love each other any more. For pastors who have questions about what they're preaching. For my angry heart.

With each stitch, with each prayer, my heart was calmed.

"Whoever would love life and see good days must keep their tongue from evil and their lips from deceitful speech. They must turn from evil and do good; they must seek peace and pursue it." (1 Peter 3:10-11, NIV, emphasis mine)

I put away my crochet and gathered my clean, warm, blanket from the dryer. Wished the couple sitting with me a good evening. Climbed in my van, came home, and wrote a different post.

I hadn't planned on pursuing peace, but it found me at the laundromat.

Guest Post at TheVeryWorstMissionary.com

I am not one of the cool kids and I am totally okay with that. But today I totally get to hang with one of the coolest people on the whole internets, Jamie, the Very Worst Missionary (and one of my blogging heroes). She invited me to guest post for her Missionary Positions (do you see why I love her yet?) and of course I had to do it.

When I start thinking about missionaries, I think about people are sharing Jesus with people. A missionary is someone who knows the gospel message and whose life goal it is to tell that life-giving message to anyone who will listen. I’ve been in the Church long enough to know that you don’t have to go to Africa to be a missionary (though it totally helps your missionary cred), but missionaries have a group they’re out to make sure to tell the story to. The unsaved.

I’m a Christian and my husband is an atheist.

So we all know who MY mission field is, right?

Head on over to Jamie's site to read the rest!

Love, Love, Love

I don't think I have anything I could add to the discussion about the 10th anniversary of 9/11. My heart aches for the families of those who lost loved ones. I pray they find peace and I believe, with all that is in me, that peace is found in Love.

The Hunger Games and My Stony Heart

(The following post is going to be a little spoilery if you haven't read the Hunger Games trilogy. I'll try not to give too much away, but be aware.)

While I was on my sabbatical, I read through the Hunger Games trilogy. Admittedly, I was a bit unsure about reading them. After all, I hated the last huge YA novel that took everyone by storm (15 pages of Bella's whining was quite enough for me, thank you very much). After being disgusted by the Bella, Edward, Jacob love-triangle, I had my doubts about the Katniss, Peeta, Gale love-triangle.

But this trilogy was just plain kick-awesome. I don't think I read them with the speed that my daughter did, but I devoted large chunks of time to reading them instead of doing things like fixing food for my children or talking to my husband. So yeah, I guess you could say that I liked them.

In the third book, the various districts decide that they've had enough of the Capitol's tyranny and they stage a rebellion with Katniss Everdeen (the heroine of the trilogy) as the leader. As the rebels work their way toward the Capitol, they must go through the various districts, each one known for a particular item that it produces or manufactures.

What struck me was when the rebels are in District 2, the district that houses much of the Capitol's military and police force and where they quarry rock. In order to control this district, the rebels must overtake the Nut, a mountain in the center of the district where most of the quarrying is done, and this means a large-scale explosion, which inevitably kills a number of people.

I love Katniss because while she yearns for freedom, she is deeply troubled by the death that must occur in order for that freedom to be secured. After the explosion at the Nut, she is reflecting in one of the more spectacular structures remaining in District 2, a large marble building that is used for Capitol business conducted in the district. Katniss walks the halls, looking everywhere at the marble and has the following thoughts,

As I descend the stairs, I can't help brushing my fingers along the unblemished white marble walls. So cold and beautiful. Even in the Capitol, there's nothing to match the magnificence of this old building. But there is no give to the surface -- only my flesh yields, my warmth taken. Stone conquers people every time. (emphasis mine)*

Despite the beauty and durability of stone, it proved lethal to many of the residents of District 2 in that chapter.

When I saw that line, "Stone conquers people every time," I couldn't help think of the stone tablets that Moses brought down from the mountain. Laws carved on stone, meant to teach people how to live. They existed to show people their need. The need to be good, good, good. The need for a Savior.

But those tablets were not where life is born. They are not the source of comfort. Life came from One who came and bled and died and rose again for you and me. Comfort comes when we realize that following those stone tablets can never be enough.

A heart of stone will conquer you. It will leave you cold and unbending. It will leave you unsatisfied. It will leave you alienated from others and ultimately from God.

A heart of flesh can be more easily damaged. It is vulnerable. But it is pliable and warm. It can receive and give comfort. It is where life can be planted and it is where love can flourish.

Let's not be conquered.


*Excerpt from Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins, page 209

It Gets Better. And Worse. And Then Better Again.

I love the It Gets Better campaign from Dan Savage. I love that LGBT kids (or really any kids) can know that even in the midst of awful bullying, there is hope out there. That there are folks who are like them, and even folks who aren't, who care about them and want to see them make it. Seeing how people have survived middle school and high school and are now succeeding in life can be a really important reminder that when things seem bad, there is hope. Life gets better.

Only, you know, sometimes it doesn't.

There are brighter days, but there will probably be some darker days too. Life is full of loss, love, delight, pain, hurt, discovery, boredom, desire, fun. It's not a graph that has a steady incline, it's a jumbled mess of ups and downs that never stays the same way for very long.

So yes, if things are really bad right now, they will get better. And then they'll probably get bad again. And then better again. And right now, in the midst of the bad, know that there's Someone good who will be with you in all of the ups and downs.

(This was inspired by the following piece from Radiolab. Started listening to this podcast when I run, but heard this one in the car and it took my breath. Taken from David Eagleman's brilliant book Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives. Seriously, don't click away from this page without listening, because it is gorgeous. The piece starts at about 1:30.)

How To Get Into Trouble by Jermaine Lane

Jermaine first commented over her a couple of months ago. We talked some on Twitter and he's just a wonderful person to get to know. I love folks who are interested in participating in the Virtual Village and Jermaine is absolutely one of those people. And for a bass player, he's got quite a personality! (I kid, I kid!) Also, he says spankin' a lot. I'm so glad that he's offered up this great piece about trouble-making for you today!

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“I am human; I consider nothing human can be alien to me.” 

- Terence, ancient Roman playwright.

Loving our neighbor as ourselves is, by far, the most troubling command ever given. Loving God can be a wrestling match at times, but it has nothing on loving another human. Esp. when they don’t look like, talk like, dress like, believe like, and live like we do.

“How am I supposed to love this person when everything they believe is contradictory to what I believe?” “How am I to even connect with that person when I’ve been raised to avoid them or save their souls at all costs?” Religion has taught us to stay with people who match us: like-minded people (bonus points if they look like us, not just with race). So what do we do?

Honesty Bridges the Gap

We can lead with a smile and make the first move. There is common ground, we are all human. Being transparent will bridge the gap. We all have hurts, wounds, loves, hopes, dreams, etc. Expressing our feelings is scary, yet it connects us on a deeper level. Honesty creates an environment of safety, and walls come down when people feel safe.

We can address why we are feeling uncomfortable in the first place. I find myself at times wanting to use the Bible to justify my insecurities with people and attempt to hide behind random scriptures taken out of context. What’s up with that?

The more honest I am with myself, the more I see my fears. When I can say to someone, “this is how I feel based on how I was raised and my past experiences” than quote scriptures, those walls tend to crumble and conversation can begin. Also, I have to keep in mind they might have their own reservations in talking to me.

A Great Way to Mess Up An All About Me Day

Yes, it can ruin an otherwise comfortable day. Yes, it is unpopular and can cause us all kinds of drama. It shakes up the uber-religious, stay to our own tribe mentality. Yes, we will get put on blast, but I would rather upset people by loving a person than ignore or judge that person to please people.

Loving another person regardless of anything about them pulls us out of ourselves, and into that shared human space. God lives in that space too, grinning from ear to ear as a proud Poppa as we stammer over our words and make the effort.

We can spankin' do it. Showing love to people is our calling, saving souls is up to God. The trouble that comes is an unfortunate side effect from tradition and fear. Jesus dealt with it by hanging out with and loving “them”. We can do the same. We can get our hands messy and love. It isn’t always pretty, but it is beautiful.

How can you get into trouble and love a person today?

[photo by Andrew Morrell Photography]

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By day, Jermaine Lane is a Qualified Mental Health Provider in Fredericksburg, Va. By night, he is a Writer and Poet. He lives with his lovely wife Stephanie, their soon to be baby girl Lil' Lane (premiering this fall who made an early appearance in July!) and his wife's cat Chloe. He writes primarily at Life Unrestricted: www.jermainelane.com. Tweet, and he will tweet back to you @jermainelane.







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When Contentment and Hope Throwdown

Last week I was reading this post by my dear friend Tamara about her husband's move to faith, a few thoughts went through my head. First, I was impressed with the beauty with which she writes. Then I was struck by how hard it is for me to know how to respond to those kinds of posts.

My first response is happiness. Anything that draws a couple closer together is A Good Thing (TM). And I love knowing that another person has found joy in the Christian faith. That make me all smiley and gooey.

Then the conflict starts. 

I am primarily content with our interfaith marriage. Mostly because my husband is still one of my most favorite people to hang around and because he makes me laugh more than anyone else. When I look at my full-featured friend post, he is all of those things. I am content because I am content.

I am also content because I choose to be content. Even as we close in on two years of this being our normal, there are still times when it catches me off guard and my response isn't immediate satisfaction. In those moments, I need to check my emotions and make a choice to be at ease.

In a corner of my heart, there is a part of me that is hopeful. Hopeful that we'll come to a place of sharing faith again. As much as I want to rebel against that because I feel like it's disrespectful to him and his journey, I have to be honest that it's still there.

I don't like seeing hope as a negative thing, but in this particular situation, I feel like it is. I tend to live in a place that is flush with contentment, where hope is relegated to the back of the bus. Hope is allowed, but it's not really welcome.

So when I see a post like Tamara's, my contentment side and my hope side want to have a throwdown. Their precarious coexistence is thrust into turmoil. My brain sits by the sidelines, shouting out taunts.

"Disrespectful!"

"Faithless!"

"Intolerant!"

The two parts of my heart war with one another, battling for control. Until the referee steps in and declares a winner.

Not contentment. Not hope.

Love is what wins.

Some days love will be expressed through contentment and acceptance. Some days love will be expressed through hope and longing. Regardless of how it's shown, if love is at the center, my relationship and my heart are the victors.




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The "How" That Matters

On Monday evening, Rachel Held Evans posted the following on Twitter:

Now I go to a pretty big church and we put on a pretty big show on Easter. So I admit, when I saw the tweet, I figured it was probably about a church spending way too much money on their production and not enough on helps. Which is kind of a legitimate gripe about a lot of large churches, but not automatically something that I personally would label a "sad story." I admit, I was really not prepared for the story that followed. You can watch the news video here about Jackson Helms being escorted from the service.

It's easy to look at this and assume that this is the result of focusing too much on putting together a schmancy service. A few years ago, I would have been right on that. Style over substance. Too cool for school. Caring more about getting butts in the seats than about caring for the butts in the seats.

And sometimes that's true for the big church. As we've seen in this example, it was pretty clear that the service going a certain way was more important than caring for a mom and her disabled child (and the rest of the family who was left behind in the sanctuary). People were hurt because they didn't fit with the style of the church.

What is easy to forget is that sometimes this is the case in the small church as well. The situation I wrote about on Tuesday happened in a small church. The style wasn't high-tech and put together, but it was theirs and deviating from that was seen as distracting. And people were hurt because of this.

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what kind of church you attend or even if you attend church - the potential to hurt people because they don't fit in with your idea of how people should behave in a given context is there. We turn our nose up at the child who acts out disturbing our meal at a restaurant. We shout obscenities at the person in front of us who is driving too slow in the fast lane. We roll our eyes at the stupid barista who can't get our coffee order right.

Most of us who are Christian will say that we're the Church no matter where we are, but so often, we're not the Church anywhere. Jesus gave us a very simple way to show that we are his followers:

By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. (John 13:35, NIV)

We can do this in the big, glossy church. We can do this in the small, country church. We can do this in our homes. We can do this at the grocery store, at the ball park, at the mall. We don't have to follow an order of service, use a special liturgy, have an expensive light show or say the right words in the right order.

If it's our desire to draw people to Jesus, the only "how" that matters is love.

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What is a way that you can show love to someone today? What is something that you like about a church that does its service differently than the way that your church does things?



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The Right Regrets

Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets. ~Arthur Miller

If the world ends tomorrow (or in October, which is when I have a feeling it would more likely end for me, since I don't think Harold Camping would count me in the group that will be a part of tomorrow's rapture), these are the top 5 regrets that I'd like to have:

• I was a friend to my kids. I know you're not supposed to be friends with your kids. And I don't see myself in strictly that position by any means. But if I'm more friendly than I'm supposed to be, well, that's a regret that I don't regret that much.
• I invaded other people's space too much. I'm a hugger. I know not everyone is comfortable with that and I do try to be aware of other's preferences, but if I accidentally hug someone who would rather not, I'll feel bad for making them uncomfortable, but not that bad.
• I watched Arrested Development at least five times in the past year. That show was awesome. Yeah, I could have done something more productive with my life rather than watching the antics of the Bluth family, but I my regrets at the hours and hours I spent watching that show are very small.
• I had inappropriate amounts of PDA with my hubby. It's gross. I get it. But I love that guy more than anyone else and if my hand on his knee bugs you, deal with it. I don't even know if that counts as a regret, because I don't regret that like, at all.
• I was too heavy-handed with the message of grace. I sometimes think I should be pushier about encouraging people to believe in Jesus. I think it's good and I love what my faith brings to my life and I hope that there's no doubt that I'm a Christian. But I also think that a measureless love is really and truly beyond any kind of measure, and that being the case, I'm going to trust in love.

I'm sure there are others I could add to this list (eating copious amounts of Ben & Jerry's Boston Cream Pie Ice Cream only narrowly missed this), but those are probably the top non-regret-regrets that I have. If tomorrow is indeed the end of the world, I feel pretty fine.

What about you? What regrets do you have (or should you have) that you would consider to be okay? How are you feeling about the rapture tomorrow?

Let the Sun Shine

photo © 2008 samantha celera | more info (via: Wylio)

It's been an extra rainy May here. I don't know if it's officially record-breaking or anything like that, but we haven't been able to go to the new playground that the kids love because of all the rain.

Yesterday morning as the rain was pouring down yet again, I asked on Twitter about a short film I remembered seeing years and years ago, when I was quite young. Follower @ktackel, based on my really terrible description, came up with Ray Bradbury's "All Summer In A Day." (You can find a link to the full text and the television show I remember here.)

In the story, people now live on Venus, where it always rains. Once every seven years, there is a short period of sunshine. One young girl lived on Earth before she moved to Venus and still remembers the sun, unlike all of her classmates. They tease Margot, claiming that she doesn't really remember the sun, eventually locking her in a closet. At that precise moment, the sun comes out and the children completely forget about Margot and enjoy their time in the sun. It's only when it begins to rain again that the children remember that Margot was locked in the closet the whole time.

I think what stayed with me for all of these years was how their intentional, but mostly harmless teasing resulted in an unintentional, but far more profound hurt. Margot was denied the only chance she would have in seven years to bask in the warmth of the sun.

I can't tell you how often I do this. I say something careless, I break a small promise, I allow a little grudge to fester. I know it's not good, but it's not BAD bad.

Then I get side-tracked. I'll go to church, listen to the great music and hear a powerful sermon and then go about my day. I know that I'm forgiven, so it's all good. The sun feels warm and cozy and safe.

Except that in the midst of me feeling good, I've left someone locked in a closet. My words still hurt them. My broken promise still cut into their ability to trust me. That grudge still left them feeling cold and unloved. My small wrong becomes something much larger than I ever intended.

Fortunately, time hasn't run out for me here. I can still go and let my loved ones out of the closet and we can still play in the sun together.

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Have you ever allowed a small, intentional hurt grow into a big, unintentional hurt? Or had that happen to you? What's the weather like where you are?

The Practice of Love Synchroblog

Two weeks ago I mentioned that my first bit of published work came out in the book The Practice of Love (affiliate link). The idea of the book was simply to gather stories from various authors sharing how they live out love in practical ways. The book is divided into four sections, Loving God, Loving the Self, Loving Our Neighbor and Loving Our Enemy. The book has a total of 45 entries by talented authors from all over and the experiences shared within are humorous and heart-wrenching.

My piece is in the Loving God section. After Jason told me that he was an atheist, I went through a number of emotions, not the least of which was anger at God for allowing this to happen. Here's an excerpt from my story:

In those early days, I said some things that I wish I could take back. Words that were born out of an emotional response to something that I didn’t fully understand, that I didn’t want and that I didn’t like. And don’t even get me started about the things I didn’t say. Yikes. My brain was a pretty scary place in those first days. 

At some point, I had mini break-down. My emotions swept over me and I just let loose. And in that moment, my husband took me in his arms and whispered assurances that he loved me. 

For all of the things that changed, that had not. We still shared a wacky sense of humor. We still shared parenting our four beautiful children. We still shared the same sense of right and wrong. When I stepped back and remembered these things, I was able to move beyond things that I felt into the realm of things that I knew. 

But off in the wings was Someone who didn’t seem as accessible as my husband. Someone who I felt had really let me down. Someone who I believed had promised certain things and had simply not delivered. Or worse, was just a figment of my imagination. 

His arms didn’t encompass me. He didn’t whisper in my ear. I felt alone and abandoned. 

I hope that you will consider purchasing a copy of this book for yourself or loved one. It contains many lovely stories in it and I believe it can open up conversation about what it is to practice love. 

Also, Civitas Press is currently accepting submissions for The Practice of Love Volume 2. If you have a story about how love has changed your life, I would encourage you to submit your story. 

Enough

photo © 2006 Jon-Eric Melsæter | more info (via: Wylio)
I'm not usually at a loss for words. I like the talky-talk and it's rare that I don't feel like I have something important to add to a conversation.

But in the past few weeks, I've had a few opportunities where my best choice was to shut up.

A friend struggling with celibacy after a divorce.

A couple grieving over the anniversary of a lost child.

A woman mourning a family member's fourth miscarriage.

A husband who is struggling to find the strength to finish the semester.

These aren't events that warranted words beyond, "I love you and I'm here for you."

This is so contrary to my nature. I want to talk. I want to help. I want fix things.

But I know that in those times when my heart is aching, all I want is a warm embrace. Someone to listen over the phone (or, even better, over food) to me pour out my hurts and just say, "I love you and I'm here for you."

Those words are more than enough.