More learning...

Recently I have found myself wanting more. Más. Plus. Mehr. Più. And for the Greek speakers in the crowd,περισσότεροι. MORE! When I volunteer in the nursery at church we pass out butter cookies. One of my favorite little guys always pleads with hands raised, palms up "mmmm...mooo...moo..moo..more cookies!" For many, it is one of the first words they learn. As humans, we desire more.

I have been desiring more lately. More things. More relationships. More money. More of whatever I think I need. But truth is, enough is never enough. I need the power of Christ to break the cycle so that I can say confidently with Paul "I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content" (Phil. 4:11). Yet, as I read this verse I can't help but become frustrated. Content all the time? That's impossible! Paul had it so easy. Then I catch myself clinging to the first three words of the verse: "I have learned".

Things didn't come easy for Paul all the time. Learning contentment required practice. His contentment included more ups and downs than I can imagine. He faced false accusations to founding churches. Yet through everything this man encountered he declared that JESUS was the answer to soul level satisfaction. Jesus gave him the capacity to endure the difficult times as he writes in v 13, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

So as I find myself wanting more, I have to remind myself that contentment only comes when I have "MORE" Christ! I refuse to let my joy be dependent on my circumstances. I am learning. Earthly things will not satisfy, but only the provision of the Lord.

Women's Ministry

After turning down an invite to go to a women's rally with some friends, I couldn't help but question why I had such an adverse reaction to the thought. What about "women's rally" makes my skin crawl? Granted, I have never liked doing what everyone else is doing (hence why I refuse to watch Lost and join Pinterest) but I get icky feelings about certain things: women's ministry is one of them, and I'm still trying to figure out why.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have taken part in a couple women's ministry events and quite enjoyed myself. I also think there is a need for women's ministry and community. However, I tend to be opposed to all things "womanly." The thought of quilted Bible covers, Joyce Meyer, giving strangers backrubs, touchy-feelyness, and women sobbing so intensely they have snot pouring out of places I didn't know existed make me shutter.

Women's ministry that focuses on baking tips, decorating, crock pot recipes, and those silly at home parties where you feel like you have to purchase over priced makeup from a magazine is really not women's ministry at all. Though there is a time and place for all those things. I`m choking on cutesy pink things and Christian sayings that girls are supposed to think is cool (i.e. "Modest is hottest!" Seriously, say that to someone with a straight face.) I throw up in my mouth a little when women of the church dress alike, and do cheerleading routines aimed at Jesus. I don't need women's ministry for that, that is milk for babes-not women. I want raw vulnerability. I want deep, intentional community. I don't want churchified answers to why my dog pissed on the floor on my way out the door. You know what I want? I want Jesus. All of Jesus.

All women aren't all mothers. We aren't all wives. Some of us are single women, divorced, widowed, struggling, depressed, empty. Is womanhood only about being a wife and mother? We aren't all in the same season of life. We don't all come from the same backgrounds, so stop pretending like we do. We are diverse image bearers of a divine God.

You know what I want instead of hearing you tell a joke you read out of the latest lady magazine? I want to hear the testimony of the lady sitting beside me. I want the lady that brought the apple tart to stand up and tell me of the worth she found in Christ. As a friend once said, "Please stop treating women's ministry as a safe spot for the little ladies to play church."

Perhaps I don't like women's ministry because if I start to like Joyce Meyer, luncheons (why don't they just call it lunch?) and decorating tips, everyone will see right through me. They'll see that I am lonely and scared at times. I doubt more than i would like to admit. I can often feel a failure as a supervisor, a student, a friend, a daughter, a Jesus follower. Perhaps, you'll begin to see all those things i don't want you to see.

How can I still make fun of the fluff, if the fluff isn't really worth making fun of? What if women's ministry talked about theology, politics, and wrestled with questions larger than who has the best sales on Black Friday. Women can love. But women, all women, need to be empowered. We need community with other women. Is your church challenging you in its ministry? What are your thoughts women? Am I completely off target and the only one who has felt this way at times?

The Intangible Invisible

I've been weird the past couple weeks. I'm coming to the realization that I am finally graduating. It's scary. It's sad. I can't help but question God. Luckily I have formed a new mantra of sorts, "I believe in the God who will give me the desires of my heart." Sometimes I chant it with an overwhelming faith that brings tears to my eyes, and other times I quietly say it while the dueling thoughts of faith and fear plague my mind. So what do I believe right now? I do believe in a God who will give me the desire of my heart, but maybe like 50 percent. But that's a hell of a lot better than the 10 percent from a couple nights ago...

I have no answers to the questions I am asking God, a blurred vision of the future, and a Jesus by my side. That is what I know with my whole heart. I believe he is sitting beside me, the intangible invisible, as I type with such nonsensical furry and passion that probably makes him laugh at my wordiness. And he is probably thinking "You're going to laugh looking back at this. And you are going to smile and dance and shout-and TRUST me and know that I AM the God who will give you the desire of your heart. That your faith does not go unnoticed, whether it's 1 percent or 99 percent. That I don't view your sins, fears, and failures as stumbling blocks that would prevent me to move in you. I want you to LIVE, SHOUT, and DANCE with the freedom that I gave you!"

And that is what I believe. It sounds like a fairy tale, or like a cheesy Saturday morning cartoon where the roadrunner always wins. But I like this fairy tale because it keeps my faith moving like ants in my pants. It gives me wonder, and marvel, and mystery. It makes my heart leap with joy for no reason and forms a lump in my throat for the same reason.

Lord, I don’t know what I’m doing and I admit I don't trust you like I should. But I love you and want to continue to trust you…whether 1 percent or 99 percent. You never fail to amaze me. You never fail to surprise me. You never fail to amuse me. You never fail to make my heart leap (I don’t think I have ever thought of you more like a roller coaster than right now..) But I love you! And I believe that you, the God that will give me the desires of my heart, love me more than I can ever imagine.

The disciples bleepity bleeps

I have always been familiar with the story where Jesus feeds the 5,000 (Mat. 14:13-33). What a sweet experience for the disciples to be a part of. However, just as the disciples are standing around rubbing their stuffed bellies slappin’ skins talking about how Jesus is the man, Jesus tells them to go away. He tells them to go “to the other side” of the lake while he takes time to pray..(yes, rest assured…even Jesus needed a break every now and then…J) While the disciples are at sea, upset because they didn't get to stay for the after party, the winds pick up.

The winds pick up, the rain starts to pour, and the waves start climbing. This is no Missouri weather where it’s just a 20-minute squall that disappears as quickly as it appeared. No, this continues for hours. From what I gather it starts sometime in the evening and persists until “the fourth watch of the night” (Matt. 14.25) which is anywhere between three and six in the morning. So for almost the entire night, these poor disciples are tossed around violently. I can only imagine, perhaps with much accuracy, what the disciples were thinking.

“I can’t believe this!” “How could Jesus have left us?” “Why did he make us ride in a storm?” “Where is he when we need him?” “Is he going to save us?” I’d venture to guess even a few “bleepity-bleepity-bleeps” slipped out, but maybe I’m saying that to make me feel better about myself. Either way, one question lingered over their heads, “Is God going to take care of me?”

So many Christians experience the depth of their spirituality in terms of mountaintop experiences, miracles, or smooth sailing times. They become almost intoxicated with having everything work out in all ways at all times. Maybe they are smart enough or rich enough or pretty enough to satisfy their own needs without the presence of a savior. Maybe they are spiritual enough to procure answers to every prayer. Maybe they are wise enough to not get bogged down by temporal circumstances and to maintain emotional and mental stability all the time. But let’s face it…most of us aren’t.

Here we have the disciples, who were on a mountaintop experience just hours earlier, now being thrashed around by the waves. Now they are questioning, “Is he going to take care of us?” They clearly knew he had the capacity to do so. Did Jesus really care about them that much when he basically bulldozed them out of the festivities only for them to get pummeled by a storm? Did he really care about them that he waited until the fourth watch, nearly the last possible second to show up?

The story ends with Jesus coming to them walking on the water. They of course freak out. Seriously, who does that? Jesus comes, but in their estimation, he was late. They weren’t sure why he had sent them away in the first place. It felt dreadful to be battling rains and winds and waves in the absence of his presence. But finally he comes.

“Is God going to take care of me?” is the cry that resonates from the depths of my soul when I find myself in life's senseless storms. It doesn’t mean I am a faithless Christian. It doesn’t mean that I am not smart enough to trust him. It just means that I am asking the question--that I wonder. And that I have no choice but to hold on so I can experience the affirmative answer. I stay in the boat and wait for Jesus to come. Maybe I will end up like Peter walking on the water with him, or maybe like the other disciples, sitting in the boat. Sitting, standing, rowing, walking, wading, whatever it is that I do…I know this: Jesus always comes.