Since when is “okay” okay?

So, I’m going to preface this blog with two things:
1. This is not an attempt to make anyone feel bad about anything, but to help us assess the relationships in our own life.
2. This is not an attempt to make anyone feel sorry for me.  Don’t.  After all, I’m going to be okay.

This past week, in the face of a very difficult situation, someone said to me, “Amy, you’re going to be okay.”

I know she probably thought this was true, and it made her feel better to say it, but I began to think, when did it become okay to be okay? One day things will be okay, but is that what we really want for the people we claim to love?

People bump into each other at the grocery store, work, the gym, school, even church and the conversation goes a little like this:

Person 1: “Hi! It’s so good to see you.  How are you?” (smiling)

Person 2: “I’m doing okay.”

Person 1: “Great!  Well, have a great day.” (smiling)

I am guilty of this.  We are all guilty of this.  Because somehow we’ve gotten it into our heads that 1) when people tell us they are okay, they are telling the truth, and 2) being okay is a good thing.

Now, we have no control over whether people are telling us the truth or not, but if we took just a few more seconds to stop and really talk to that person, maybe we could make a positive impact in their day.  Yes, it’s hard.  Yes, it’s messy to care about people.  But, if you are person 2, wouldn’t you want someone to do that for you?

It’s easy for us to dismiss people who say they are “okay” because life is busy and difficult (and maybe we don’t want to admit that we really aren’t okay either).  So, we let ourselves believe that being okay is a good thing, when it’s not, and shouldn’t be.

The word “okay” actually means “adequate but unexceptional.”

Personally, I want more for myself and the people I love.

Now, I’m not some idealist who thinks life is always going to be perfect and happy.  But, I do think that if we are more intentional about truly caring for people, then when someone responds to the question, “how are you?” with “I’m okay,” we will not be satisfied to just smile and walk away.

It’s time for a career change…

I’m thinking about taking up a career in modeling…

Okay, some of you think I have lost my mind.  I know that I’m no Heidi Klum.  I’m not that disillusioned, but I think it’s time that my ministry became modeling.  It’s time for me to wear on the outside the life I have on the inside.  It’s time to change how I live.

Over the past few weeks, I have been wrestling with what I like to call a “holy discontent.”  I look at my life and wonder if my life is making an impact on the world?  What am I doing to change people’s lives?  Who is the last person I shared my faith with?  When was the last time I sacrificed myself for someone else?  Does what I do every day really make a difference? Am living a good story?

I was recently confronted with the statistic that there are 143 million orphans in the world.  In the United States, over 100,000 children are waiting right now for families, and if 33% of churches in the US had one family adopt one child, there would be no more orphans in the US. (Check out www.143million.org and www.bethany.org)

This statistic just blows my mind.  As the church we are called to take care of the orphans and widows (James 1:27).  What are we doing about that?  What am I doing about that?

Here’s another statistic for you: 3.900 children die every day from water borne illnesses due to the lack of clean water.  It costs $10 to give a child clean water for life.  And it would cost $10 billion to solve the world’s water crisis once and for all.  This may sound like a lot of money (well, it is).  But, considering that Americans spent $450 billion on Christmas gifts last year alone, $10 billion is a drop in the bucket. (Check out www.adventconspiracy.org)

As the church we are called to feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, help those who are poor, homeless, imprisioned (Matthew 25:31-46).  What are we doing about that?  What am I doing about that?

Welcome to my holy discontent.

So much of my life I have been waiting for what’s next…to graduate high school, to graduate from college, to graduate from seminary, to get a job.  Now, that all of those things have happened I find myself making up “next things” to wait for and thus put off living my “real” life: to get married, to pay off my school loans, to have a family, to have a house…It could go on forever.

All I can think about is how we could change the world if we chose to live our lives differently.  To stop waiting and starting living lives that impact the world.

I may just be one person.  You may just be one person.  But, one person is one person who can do something.

I work with teenagers, and I am constantly asking myself how I can call them to live lives bigger than themselves, to do something huge with their life.  I can talk to them until I’m blue in the face, but that’s no good. They need to see the life being lived in front of them.  They need someone to model the life.  They need to see the Truth in action.

Because after all, if the church isn’t changing the world, who will?

But, then I come back to the question of who is the church, and the only place I can point my finger is at myself.  I am the church.

So, if I’m not changing the world, who will?

Grace

I’ve been thinking about grace a lot lately. It seems like everywhere I turn, Ephesians 2 shows up.

“But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved)…For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast.”

I have heard that verse so many times in my life.  I can quote it.  It is imprinted on my mind.  But, recently I have found myself wrestling with it in a very intense way…questioning if I really believe it, and if I do believe it, do I live like I believe it.

As much as I say that I believe my salvation cannot be earned, I still find myself trying to earn it, trying to earn God’s favor by being obedient.  And when I fail, I try to make up for it by doing “extra” good things, hoping that God will take notice and pardon my failure.

Our need to “do no wrong” cages us into a life of sin management that takes no real risks and trusts in nothing, because somehow we grow to think we can be “good enough.” But, “good enough” is never good enough.

So, why is it so hard for me to just rest in His grace and accept that his love is completely free?

I’ve come to realize that the answer to this question is almost more painful than my striving for the love and acceptance of God: because grace isn’t fair.

I kept asking myself why it’s so hard for me to truly believe that when Christ died on the cross he fulfilled the law.  We are no longer bound to it, but like generations of Christians before us, we keep putting in on us, weighing ourselves down by rules that we believe will gain us favor with God when we obey them.  But, the truth is that we will always fail, and the law will always condemn us.

The truth is that grace isn’t fair, and we live in a culture that demands fairness.

I think about Jonah.  He didn’t want to go preach to the people in Nineveh because he knew that if they repented, God would forgive them.  He knew that grace was at the center of God’s character and didn’t think that they deserved grace and forgiveness.  So, he didn’t want to go.

Sometimes I think I am guilty of putting Christian rules on top of salvation, because I know grace is what saves us, and it is truly based on God’s unmerited, immeasurable love for us.  It isn’t fair.  And, I don’t think it’s fair that it isn’t fair.

But, would we really want it to be fair?

Because as good as I think I am, I am not good.  I am not holy.  I don’t deserve God’s grace, much less His love.  It was in my filth that God reached down and saved me.  It wasn’t fair.  Just like the grace given to the murderer, or the rapist, or the thief, or the little old man who has sat in the pew for 50 years.

So, where do our “good deeds” fall into all of this.  After all James says:

“Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world….Faith by itself, if it does not have works is dead.”

The motive of our obedience isn’t to earn favor.  That obedience to the word of God is useless.  Our motive as Christ followers is just that–to follow Christ.  It’s not to earn anything, but to reflect Someone.  We love others; we keep ourselves “unspotted from the world”; we obey the voice of God, not to earn anything, but to lead others to know Jesus by being Jesus.

Now, that, I can sink myself into.

My Walk to Emmaus

Last weekend I had the opportunity to go to the Walk to Emmaus.  I was a little apprehensive going in, but as my amazing cousin Ashley, who sponsored me, kept saying, “Amy, if you survived three years of seminary, you can survive three days of this.”  So, I went.

Now, let me just preface what I’m about to say next:

• I went into this experience Wednesday with a positive attitude and open heart.
• If you are one of those people who thinks the Walk to Emmaus is the best thing since peanut butter and chocolate then you might not want to read this post.
• Nothing I say in this post is meant to offend or be hurtful. It is the honest reflection of my experience, and I hope that whoever reads this will see Truth and love in what I am saying.

As people have asked me how my Walk was, I have simply responded with “It was good.”  Don’t get me wrong, the end result was good, but for the most part it was frustrating, annoying, weird, and made me angry.  It took me almost the entire Walk to get over all of the things that kept me from spending time with my Father, and it shouldn’t have been that way.  I was turned off at many points during the weekend, and if I hadn’t come into this weekend rooted deeply in my faith and understanding of Christ, I probably would have run screaming.

I will get into that later, but first let me say what was good about the weekend. (I promise I will not ruin any of the “surprises” during this post, for those of you who have not gone to Emmaus)

• The speakers were amazing.  It was so encouraging to hear how God has worked in the lives of real people through their real pain, brokenness and victories.  I wish I could have bottled some of those stories up and carried them with me, because my notes are just not enough.
• The community I was able to build with my table and other women during the weekend, and the community that will hopefully continue to grow.  It was so great to spend time with real women, sharing wisdom, laughter, struggles, tears, and just being women.  My table leaders were amazing!  I am so thankful, especially for my assistant table leader.  She helped me more than I think she realizes.
• The few quiet moments I was able to spend one on one with my Father.  It was hard to find those moments, even when we had to be silent, but it was then that He really spoke truth and love into my heart.  If those few moments were all I got from the weekend, that is enough.
• The people who served in the background.  You guys are rockstars, and I am so thankful for how you emptied yourselves (and are always emptying yourselves) to serve people who you don’t even know.  And, I don’t know who made up my bed that first night, but that was wonderful.

Okay, now on to what wasn’t so great about this weekend.  I am not going to discuss the crazy bell ringing, not having a cell phone or knowing the time, or even the cold showers.  Those things aren’t that important in the larger picture of my experience.  Also, let me just say that my criticisms come from a heart of wanting the Walk to Emmaus to be an experience that can really reach people in an relevant and authentic way.

• My first impression.  Wednesday night I wanted to run screaming.  I figured out that night that they take your cell phones away, so you won’t call up your sponsor and get them to come pick you up and take you home.  That’s what I want to do.  One of the leaders said Wednesday night “Don’t judge your Walk by Wednesday night, or Thursday, or Friday, or any specific experience, but wait until the close on Saturday and judge your walk as a complete experience.  This is what I have to say to that…If you don’t want me to judge my experience by my first impression, then give me a good first impression.  My first impression was that I was being initiated into some weird “Christian” cult (and, I’m not sure that my impression changed until the very end on Saturday).  I believe that as Christians we are called to represent Christ with truth and excellence, and I did not see that in the weekend.
• Following a script.  Life doesn’t follow a script.  Jesus didn’t follow a script. And the original walk to Emmaus with the men and Jesus definitely didn’t follow a script.  Maybe it’s so everyone can have the same experience, but come on, no one ever has the same experience.  I felt like I was being read to the entire weekend, and it seemed to suck so much life out of the stories and experiences shared.  Christ came to bring us LIFE not a script.
• The music.  Maybe I’m a music snob, but this goes back to representing Christ with excellence and relevance. The guy who led our music was a good musician, but wasn’t the best worship leader.  And, don’t get me started on song selection.  I’m sure most of the women there loved the songs we sang, but then most of them grew up singing those songs and still sing those songs in their churches.  The truth of the matter is that culture is changing, and if the leadership of the Walk to Emmaus wants to reach the generations that will be coming on walks in just a few short years, they need to update their worship and make it more relevant.  You will never reach the next generations effectively with what is being done now.
• Emotionalism and Misrepresentation.  Okay, there was an experience during the weekend (I won’t give details) that was orchestrated to give us a “vision of heaven.”  I just need to be clear in my saying that this was a complete misrepresentation of Heaven.  My first thought in entering this experience was that I was entering a cult sacrifice (and I began to wonder if no one told me about it because I was the sacrifice), and the second was, “If this is what Heaven is going to be like, then I don’t want to go there.”  It made me so angry, because in my limited understanding of Heaven, we will get to fellowship with other believers and see the face of God.  That did not happen.  There were also some experiences that were emotionally charged in a way that made me uncomfortable.  I don’t need someone to play on my emotions to get me to give things over to God.  His whispering in my heart is enough.  So many times I just wanted to scream, “If all of you would get out of the way, maybe I could actually experience God.”
• Two words: singing and swaying
• Let me just give a last bit of advice.  Not every person who goes on the Walk to Emmaus is going to want to “play the game.” Don’t make her feel guilty for it.  Love her anyway.

So, the question is left, “What did I get out of the weekend?”

• I realized how grateful I am to be a part of a church that loves people, has amazing community, and is committed to being relevant and authentic.  I love my church!
• Community is vital.
• He is faithful, and I must be faithful to Him.  Because, after all, He is the One in control.
• God loves me in a amazingly real way.  I can’t comprehend it.  I haven’t been open to His love for so long, and if I can let Him love me, maybe I can learn to love myself.  And, His love will overflow onto other people.

There you go.

Happy Birthday

I don’t like to broadcast my birthday, but now that it has passed, we can talk about it.  Last Saturday (Aug. 29th, for those of you taking notes), was my 26th birthday.  Ironically, it wasn’t as traumatic as turning 25, where I realized I was officially a quarter of a century old and only 5 yrs away from being 30.  Actually, it was a good birthday.  And, I hope that a good 26th birthday means that year 26 will be good for me, too (at least I can cross my fingers for that, can’t I).

The reason this birthday was one that will always be etched in my memory is because of a certain gift I received.  My mom stopped giving me birthday gifts when I was like eight, but this year she presented me with a very uniquely wrapped gift, topped with blue ribbon she had curled in perfect ringlets.  I was surprised to even get a gift, because, honestly, it all goes downhill after 21, and she had already planned a whole day of birthday celebration for me.  But, nevertheless, the gift was sitting on the couch waiting for me.

It was the best gift I have ever been given: three of my father’s journals.

After my father died, my mom found a stack of spiral bound notebooks that my father had used as journals.  The first ones dated all the way back to 1986 (I was 3 then) and the last one had entries from just months before he died.  I poured over these journals after she found them, soaking in his words, discovering the life of my own father, stories I had never even heard of his own triumphs, struggles, doubts, and moments of utter joy.  Then, they got passed around my family and lost in the shuffle.

My mom and I have had many conversations about these journals.  After my father died, I managed to be the only child who got nothing of his, and the two things I wanted more than anything were his Bible and his journals.  Now, I have three of his journals, and this past week I have been pouring over them all over again.

My father was so detailed in what he wrote.  He wrote about specific people and put the date and time on each entry.  There are so many entries where he would write at 5am, before he went into work, and would describe the sunrise in vivid detail.  I never realized how much and how hard he worked.  It’s like I’m reading the life accounts of a man that I knew, but now I’m being invited to know a side of him I didn’t even realize existed.

The weirdest thing about reading his journal is reading his accounts of stories I remember.  To read what he wrote about me and my brothers and my mother.  To realize that we frustrated him and made him angry, but that he sacrificed so much for us and loved us so much.  He was a great father and husband.

There is one story that I was so shocked to read.  It was only a few sentences, but I remember it.  One afternoon there was a solar eclipse, and I remember my dad bringing home his welding helmet for me and my brothers, so we could watch the eclipse without hurting our eyes. But, what I never realized was that he went out of his way to bring us the helmet in between work and going to work some more.  He always wanted us to have the best.  That memory has never really been anything special for me, just something cool.  Now, I wouldn’t trade that eclipse for the world.

The older I get, the more I miss him.  Maybe it’s because I realize that I need him more than I did when I was younger.  And, the older I get the more I wish I had known him better.  I wish I had loved him better.

Reading through his journals makes me realize just how lucky I was to have him as my father, and I hope that one day I will marry a man like my dad.  A man who knows how to love his wife and family (and isn’t afraid to show that love).  A man who sacrifices for his family and is devoted to God above all else.  I can’t settle for anything less.

Revolution

The past two weeks have been insane, and now that I feel like I am on the other side of a huge transitional point in my life, I can step back, take a deep breath and reflect.

In the past month, I have moved into a new apartment, done Revolution Weekend, made the transition to three services with Cornerstone, and last night was our first night of Engage (after about 4 1/2 months of planning, anticipation, and sleepless nights).  Okay, maybe that doesn’t look like a lot because it’s only four things, but it is much more than four things.  These are four movements.

And it has been good….and it will be even better.

Revolution Weekend was such a great weekend for me, our leaders, and our students.  All of the prayer and hard work culminated in a weekend where God moved in the lives of students and leaders…and He moved me.  It was the beginning of something that I probably won’t even fully comprehend for a while, but I do know that it created a momentum that I haven’t seen in this ministry since I have been at Cornerstone.  It created a momentum I haven’t even really had since I have been at Cornerstone.

And that makes me so excited, because its nothing I did…but, its everything that He is.

At Engage last night, we started a series called “Move”, and we landed in Hebrews 12:1-2:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

I got so excited as I began to study this passage, because it reminded me that we are all called to get in the race and run.  For too long I sat in the stands and cheered on everyone else who was running the race.  God was moving those people and moving through them, and I was content to sit back and cheer them on.  I’m not sure why I stayed on the sidelines.  Pick one: insecurity, doubt, fear, guilt, shame, sins I wasn’t willing to give up…maybe it was all those things.  But I am not content to sit there anymore.  I am in the race.

I was reminded of a passage in Experiencing God where Henry Blackaby talks about how God gives us a direction, not to show us what to do, but to show us what He is about to do.  For the past few months I have felt like God was telling me to move in a certain direction because He was about to do something.

Blackaby writes, “Most of the time when God calls you or gives you a direction, His call is not what He wants you to do for Him.  He is telling you what He is about to do where you are…He most often is not calling you to a task only, but to a relationship.”

That’s when it hit me.  Yes, the author of Hebrews is encouraging his readers to get into the race, not to be held back anymore by their sin and disbelief, but the invitation isn’t to run the race.  The invitation is to fix our eyes on Jesus, the One who mapped out the race, ran it, and completed it.  He is the finish line, and at the same time, the one running right beside us.

The invitation is never to a task alone, but to a relationship with our Creator.  His invitation is “Move with me.  Draw close to me.  Enter into and know me.”

Now, that’s a revolution.

Remember

This past week I have been thinking a lot about the past…my past.  It’s one of those things that some days I wish I could just leave behind, lose it like I do so often with pens, or my keys, or my mind.  But, I can’t.

The funny thing about the past is that it rarely stays there.  It follows you around.  It lives inside the deepest part of your being.  My past has molded who I am today, in the good things, the things I have had to seek healing for, and the things I may never heal from.

Tonight I was looking through a photo album of old family photos that I had copied from my mom’s albums she kept of my brothers and I growing up.  Sometimes I pull out these photos because I want to remember, but most of the time its because I want to escape back to a time I wish I could remember better.

This is the picture I always gravitate toward.

I don’t remember that day, but every time I see this picture, I want to go back to it.  I want to be that little girl again.  I want to play in the leaves with my dad and brothers and not feel like I’m wasting my life.  I want have one last conversation with my dad, even if it is as a 3yr old.

The craziest thing about this picture is that my dad is my age in it.  My dad is 25 in this picture.  He has two children and a huge smile on his face.  I know his life wasn’t perfect then (it never was), but it didn’t have to be.  He was happy.  He was loved, and he loved his family and his life.

I know that I can’t go back.  My life right now is the life I am called to live in.  And that’s okay.  The past is the past, even if it feels like the present sometimes.  And, as much as my past is a part of me, it is not my definition.  It is not the label I wear.  My past doesn’t determine my future.

After all, I am not my own.  I have been bought with a price and redeemed for a greater purpose.

And, it is the same for you.  The past is not your future.  It is not your definition.

HE is.

Moving

It seemes like everyone in my neighborhood is moving.  It has become typical to see U-haul trucks going up and down the street and families carrying out boxes taped up with the pieces of their lives housed inside.  In two weeks I will be that person.  The U-haul truck will be outside my duplex.  I will be carrying out all of my boxes containing the pieces of my life.  And I will move (but, don’t worry,  I’m just moving across town).

I feel like I have been moving a lot lately.  There is movement going on all around me, and I am racing along with it.  This summer has been full of movement…so much that I haven’t even stopped to realize that July is almost over.  Last week was amazing with Cornerstone Youth OnMission.  I had the opportunity to work alongside 25 wicked cool teenagers plus our youth volunteers.  We moved lots of weeds, horse poop, paint, tree limbs, pine straw, people….and each other.  It was great.

Camp Cornerstone is next week, and it will be full of movement. But, I am praying for movement that is more than just moving groups of kids through different activities.  I am praying for the movement of kid’s hearts.  I am praying that God will move entire families.

In the weeks ahead, there will be even more movement in my life and with Cornerstone Youth.  This ministry is moving forward, and as it moves forward it is moving me forward.  I am learning and discovering that movement for the sake of movement can be dangerous.  But, movement with a purpose is revolutionary.

So many times I have caught myself moving (physically, spiritually, mentally, etc…) because I am restless with being still.  This is not the case right now.  I am moving intentionally, with a purpose, with precision, both in my personal life and in ministry.

I am excited about the movement ahead of me.  I am excited about what is coming up in the fall with Cornerstone.  I am excited about Revolution Weekend in August and our move to Wednesday nights starting August 26th.  I am excited to see the vision of reaching students in our community in new and fresh ways come alive!

I believe that God is taking Cornerstone, not just the youth ministry, but the entire church, in a direction of blessing that we can’t even comprehend right now.  I don’t know all the details of what’s on the horizon for us/me, and I’m okay with that.  If I knew, it wouldn’t be bigger than me.  But, I do know that whatever He has in store, it is His best.  It is in our best interest because it brings honor to Him.

He is moving.  He is moving us.  I am moving with Him.  We are moving with Him.  Will you move, too?

Margins

Just like last month, today I looked down at my desk calendar only to realize that it was still on May and June is almost over.  I can’t be so busy that I don’t realize a month has began before it is almost over.  But, nevertheless, June has flown past me, and it strangely feels like I have also flown past myself, leaving me somewhere in the dust of mid-May.

But, I guess I’d rather be busy than idle.

This time last year, I felt like I had nothing to do and life was barely managing to creep by, but now I find myself with so much in front of me that it’s hard to keep everything straight.

It’s overwhelming and exciting and scary and beautiful all at the same time. It’s my life.

The past 2 1/2 weeks have been a whirlwind.  I not only watched my little brother get married, I was in his wedding.  BigStuf was a whole week of crazy goodness.  Then, I went on “vacation” for four days.  And there is still more ahead…..Life Groups start up this Wednesday, Saturday is the OnePrayer Auburn Service day, family is coming for the 4th of July, OnMission starts the second week of July, then we are on to Camp Cornerstone, and before you know it, school will be starting back and Revolution Weekend will be here, and then there will be another wedding on the horizon…

Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful that I am active, but I also know that I need to build margins in my life, and I’m not really doing a good job of that right now.  Having so much going on makes me stop and examine what in my life is really honoring Christ.  Because if in all of my busyness I forget that He is the most important thing, it is all for nothing, and I have missed it…I have missed out on the Life.

Busyness doesn’t equal life.  A full inbox doesn’t equal self-worth.  Sleepless nights do not equal importance.  Anxiety does not breed success.

Christ equals life.  His word is Truth.  He gives rest to those He loves. And the only success that is worth anything is to bring honor to His name.

Now, I just need to remind myself of that everyday.

Life Change

Cornerstone’s team returnred from Uganda on Saturday.  I got to pick them up from the airport.  On the ride home, several of them shared stories with me despite their weary eyes and bodies.

I love to hear stories of what God is doing in other parts of the world.  It makes my heart ache, in a good way, to see His redemption in action.  It makes me long to share my faith with those who have never heard His name.  It makes me aware of how I need to be sharing my faith more with the people who come in and out of my life every day.  It makes me want to move.

As they told me stories of meeting some of the kids who are sponsored by people from Cornerstone, I asked if they had met a little girl named Sylvia.  Sylvia is the little girl that I sponsor from Buloba. Josh told me that they had, and actually they had the opportunity to spend some time with her.

Here she is with Josh, showing off her school uniform.

She is beautiful.  The entire time our team was in Uganda, she was where my heart was.  I want to meet her so badly, and I know that one day I will.

This isn’t just a picture of a beautiful little girl.  This is a picture of a life being changed.  This is a picture of hope.

That school uniform is one of the most beautiful pieces of clothing I have ever seen, not because it’s something she has because of me, but because it’s a little piece of my heart in Uganda.

And, you know, the more I look at this picture, I realize that it’s not just a picture of her life being changed, but mine, too.