Beauty in Freedom - Wk 2

Word:

“You have the gift of exhortation,” she said. “That’s interesting.” She was trying to be encouraging, but the look of disappointment on her face said it all. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it couldn’t be good.

Years later, that gift got a new name: prophet. He had me take an assessment for the five-fold gifts, and the peak on the graph of the results page was undeniable. “Oh!” he said. “I haven’t met many prophets.” He seemed unsure of what to tell me next.

Thankfully the assessment had a definition. “The genius of Prophetic leadership is the ability to discern the spiritual realities in a given situation or community,” writes Alan Hirsch. “He or she is a questioner, freely disturbing the status quo and challenging individuals and organizations to move in a different direction.” Oh, I thought, now I get it.

This truth named something I’d done instinctively my whole life. I’ve always been able to see how what we do today affects tomorrow. I instinctively know where things are headed and how they’ll play out. I’ve always been curious, asking questions about why and how things are done. I’m incredibly passionate about caring for the marginalized and the earth and the people who have been hurt by the church. I am regularly confronted by the gap between the way things are and the way they should be under King Jesus’ reign.

Yet so many times when I share these things, I’m met with resistance and frustration and anger—this truth is often unwelcome. Being able to name this gift was like having my whole world come into focus. It didn’t make things better—honestly, it made me wonder why God gave me a gift that frustrated so many. As a result, I tried to downplay this gift, and hide it away as much as possible.

But so many injustices in our world are caused by systems that have been in place for generations, that have never been deeply examined, that most of us continue without ever considering the impact. These systems need prophets to examine them, ask questions, and point out how they hurt our world.

A few years ago, I was called to do just this—but it was with a system I’d grown to love. And then I realized just how much that particular system pained the heart of God, and I was compelled to do something to help change it, which meant confronting key leaders. It didn’t go well. I felt like I’d lost everything—my community, my safe place, my reputation. I cried for days.

Months later, as the dust began to settle, and I wondered whether it had been worth it, I met with a friend who is gifted in deeply seeing and naming people. He looked me in the eyes and said, “You are a truth-teller. And if there’s one thing Jesus is about, it’s truth. We need more truth-tellers like you.”

His words spoke freedom to my soul. God is all about truth—he is truth! To be a truth-teller is to be about God and his heart (John 8:32).

As I realized this truth, I understood in a new way that this gift truly was good and needed. I recognized that my responsibility was simply to obey God—to speak the truth that he laid on my heart, in the way he showed me, at the time he prompted me. I couldn’t (and shouldn’t try) to control the outcome. In that moment, a new sense of freedom washed over me, and a weight lifted. I’m called to be a truth-teller. And that means obeying God regardless of the outcome. There’s amazing freedom in being the person God has created us to be. I don’t try to hide my gift anymore, and that’s a beautiful thing.

Music:

“Grow” by The Oh Hellos

Meal:

If you have any dietary restrictions, you know how un-inclusive our menus typically are. I consider cooking inclusive recipes a subtle truth-telling, a subversive way of including people. I like to find recipes that are naturally gluten-free, vegetarian, and dairy-free that are big pleasers so I’m not dealing with tricky ingredients. This recipe is wildly delicious, easy, and inclusive. (Don’t forget to use gluten-free soy sauce!) If you want to include meat on the side, make a little extra marinade to marinate chopped up chicken. Then cook it on the stovetop while you broil the veggies.

https://www.budgetbytes.com/2016/01/broiled-balsamic-vegetables-with-lemon-parsley-rice/

Prayer:

Jesus,

You are the Truth, and that includes the truth about who you’ve made us to be. Help us to fully embrace that truth, learn to love the gifts you’ve given us, and develop in stewarding those gifts. Make us brave for those moments when we need to speak the truth. Make us good listeners for those moments that others speak truth to us. Help us fall in love with your truth, in every form that it comes. Amen.

Time:

Journal about your relationship with truth-telling. Does it fill you with dread? Relief? Wonder? When have you backed down from telling the truth? When you have you rushed in with the truth unwisely? Do you use the truth as a weapon or as a balm? Have others used the truth as a weapon or as a balm with you? Pay attention this week to how God prompts you to share the truth and your response to this prompting.

Contact: Amy Jackson / @amykjackson / www.amykjackson.com

Beauty in Freedom - Wk 1

Word:

I’ve been struggling with putting this part of my journey into words. Perhaps because I don’t fully understand it myself, and I’m still learning.

A little over a year ago, I went through a powerful deliverance. Some good friends of mine were led by the Lord to start a deliverance ministry. They were hesitant, but decided to trust the Lord. A few weeks after starting the ministry, my friend and I were talking, and she started telling me about this new ministry that she and her husband were doing. She told me stories of how both she and her daughter were delivered, as well as several others. They never advertised their ministry, yet God was leading people to them that needed freedom. And I was next. I felt that loving push from the Holy Spirit to set up a time to meet with my friends for deliverance. I wasn’t sure what that even meant. I had so many questions.

There were a couple of things my friends told me I needed to do to prepare for my deliverance. I was to pray and ask the Lord to reveal any unrepented sin in my life, and any unforgiveness. Both would block me being able to be free and continue to give the enemy “rights” in my life. So I did that hard work with the Lord that week as best as I knew how, and then went to see my friends. I arrived at my friends’ house a nervous wreck. I didn’t know what to expect or if this was even a good thing to do. We sat down in their living room and opened up in prayer. During prayer my friend asked if there was anyone I needed to forgive, so I shared the couple names the Lord had revealed to me that week. Then he prayed that any wrongful vows I had made and any generational curses that might be over me be broken. After prayer we sang a song together. I felt a little calmer after prayer and worship.

My friend then had me read several Scriptures that he had written out for me. Each one spoke powerfully to my heart. After reading the Scriptures, my friend explained what we were going to do next. He was going to call out to any evil spirits, command them to give their name, and then together we would command them to leave. That sounded really weird to me but I said ok. My friend said to speak out whatever “name” came to my head as he called them out. So I did. The names that came to mind were so clear and loud. I was surprised at how easy this was. Some of the names that came to mind and I spoke out were shame, self-hatred, fear, pride, anger, doubt. Bigger names began to reveal themselves as well and I spoke them out. Jezebel was one of those names. After I said the name of each spirit, my friend would tell me to renounce it, ask the Lord for forgiveness for believing that spirit, and command it to leave in the name of Jesus. I heard and spoke out many other spirits that had gotten attached or assigned to torment and oppress me. Many of these spirits had been attached to me since childhood. We kept going until I didn’t hear anymore names. I left wondering if this experience was real, and if it made a difference. The following weeks and months proved it as I began noticing changes in my life.

I noticed was that some things that were once a huge struggle for me suddenly became easier. My thoughts were clearer and became quieter and more peaceful. A lot of the chatter, confusion, and negativity in my head was gone. I could better and more quickly discern when a thought was a lie, or when a thought was not my own. God’s voice also sounded louder, which was the most amazing part!

Time:

I know deliverance is a controversial topic for some but Jesus paid a very high price for our freedom. He wants us free in every part of our being. I do not believe that a believer in Christ can be possessed by evil spirits, but I do believe that we can be oppressed by them. Believer, if you think you might be oppressed by something, ask the Lord to reveal it. Then ask Him how to get free and stay free. The Holy Spirit is faithful in leading us into all truth.

Meal:

I fasted for a bit after my deliverance experience. Fasting can bring clarity, and open us up to receive from the Lord.

Song:

The hymn Nothing But The Blood Of Jesus by Robert Lowry

Prayer:

Jesus, thank you for freedom. I pray Holy Spirit that you would reveal any part of me that needs freedom and healing. I pray Lord that You would reveal every lie and scheme of the enemy in my life. Lead me into the truth, and into the full freedom that you purchased for me, Jesus.

Beauty in the Unknown - Wk 4

WORD

Earlier this year I was on a bus working my way towards the Central Business District of Nairobi, Kenya. I was headed to the Kenyan Immigration Office. For the entirety of that morning I had been completely racked with anxiety and stress (for those old school WWE fans think Lex Luger’s “Torture Rack” but in your stomach). My Kenyan work permit had been previously approved but only if I pay within 30 days of said approval.

I did indeed pay online within those 30 days but the day that I was actually dropping off the physical receipt was 35 days after the approval (why I couldn’t drop them off earlier is another story all together). Meaning, if the Kenyan immigration services wanted, they could give me major issues and even revoke my work permit. My ability to stay and serve as a missionary in Kenya long-term was hanging in the balance.

At some point on this anxiety-ridden bus ride I had a revelation. It was an epiphany that forced me to come to a difficult and uncomfortable realization. The question that sunk into the depths of my mind that led to this enlightenment was this: I LOVE going on adventures and seeking the unknown as I travel around Africa - I actually thrive on it and even go out of my way to create “exciting” scenarios that my wife doesn’t fully appreciate or always approve of (like arranging to stay at the homes of pastors in other African countries that I’ve never met and no one else that I know can vouch for them) - so why am I struggling with this?

I don’t know if I’m an adrenaline junky or not but whenever there’s an opportunity to do something crazy I definitely want in! For instance, literally one week before this whole work permit thing occurred I had conquered the third highest bungee jump in the world. I jumped off a bridge that was 216 meters (approx. 710 feet) above the ground and I did so without breaking a sweat and with barely an elevated heartbeat. I absolutely loved every second of it!

Yet, here I was worrying myself into an early grave because the receipt for my work permit is 5 days late? That stark contrast is what brought about the realization that it seems I am comfortable trusting my Maker with the unknowns of good health, long life, functional physical and cognitive abilities, and the like but I struggle to trust God with MY life. I don’t like unknowns in the areas of my plans, my vocational future, my family, etc. I can trust when it comes to my physical being and eternity but not with the life I desire to live while I’m here.

When it comes to a planned adventure I find it easy let go and I completely enjoy the ride. The whole fun part of an adventure IS the unknown. The excitement comes from not being sure what will happen next or who I’ll meet or what new kind of food I’ll eat or what beautiful landscape I’ll get to see. It’s in these unknown and unplanned for moments that memories are made and stories are told.

But, when it comes to life I hold on tightly trying to control even those things I know that I cannot control. That fateful morning on the crowded bus I realized for the first time that I don’t view life as an adventure. Instead I view life as something to be carefully planned out in order to eliminate unknowns. I view life as something that must have adventurous unknowns planned in to but I hadn’t been living as if life itself WAS the adventure.

As Peter Pan (played by the late Robin Williams) in the cult classic “Hook” once said, “To live… to live would be an awfully big adventure.” I want to live fully, absent of fear and worry, in the beautiful and continuous unknown that is “life.” How about you?

MEAL

My favorite meal is, and always will be, Kraft macaroni and cheese. There’s just nothing quite like the magnificent contents of that Blue Box. In relation to this blog, when it comes to Kraft mac and cheese there are ZERO unknown involved. It’s basic, simple, repeatable, and as safe as you can get.

The meal that connects to this blog on the adventurous side of the “unknown” spectrum is Pepe Soup. This West African delicacy (translated into American English as “Pepper Soup”) Is just that – a soup of spicy hot peppers and meat. This thing packs enough punch to wake the dead. You always know it will be hot but you never know if it will be “burn your face off hot” or the more bland version of “can’t stop your nose from running” hot.

On top of that, you’re always guessing which meats (yes, “meats” plural) will come in your Pepe Soup. It’s NEVER just one kind of meat but always a wide array. You might get any combination of crabs (you eat them shell and all), pigs feet, fish (bones and all), goat, beef, prawns, and cow and/or goat skin (without the hair). I’m not sure any meal I’ve ever eaten has as any possible variations as this one.

MUSIC

The song I would connect to this is “The Dance” by Garth Brooks because I don’t think any of us would want to know how this life ends, even if we could avoid the pain and unknown. It’s in the dance of life that we truly live.

PRAYER

Father, you are the author of adventure. Help me to see the beauty in the unknowns of my normal and boring day. May I relish the unexpected interruptions, the annoyances, and the uncertainties before me - knowing that this is how memories are made and real joy is found.

TIME

Don’t plan out every minute of your day tomorrow. Take a new way home from work. Take your partner out for an unexpected dinner date. Laugh at your mistakes. Sneak some unknown into your world and when something unexpected comes don’t retract but embrace the adventure ahead.

Matt Millar

https://untappedpotenial.wordpress.com/

Beauty in the Unknown - Wk 3

Word

As I heard the words come out of the neurologist’s mouth, my brain was unable to process them. My wife Cassia was sitting next to me. We live in Elgin, IL,  but we had driven into Chicago to meet with a neurologist who would tell us the results of an MRI for our son, Elan, who was five months old. All of this started the day after Elan was born, when he failed his in-hospital hearing test. We wrote it off as a fluke because the test had been interrupted so many times. But after two more failed hearing tests, we knew something was wrong. We hoped it was simply fluid buildup in his ears that never drained. But then Elan began missing other developmental milestones. He didn’t seem to react to our voices. He didn’t make eye contact with us. He wasn’t reaching for objects in front of him, or even tracking things that would move across his field of vision. Then the soft spot on his skull closed, and our pediatrician ordered an MRI. Soon we got the call that the neurologist was ready to meet with us.

We sat in her office for an hour with her, looking at Elan’s brain imaging as she explained what was on the screen. There was so much empty space where brain should be. Whatever we were looking at, we knew it wasn’t good. At the end, she looked at Cassia and I and asked, “So, do you have any questions for me?” Even after an hour of explaining, my biggest questions still had not been answered. After a moment, I cleared my throat and asked, “Doctor, will Elan ever be able to hear or see?” She looked at Cassia, and then back at me. “Probably not,” she said. Her words seemed to hang there in the air, not really landing anywhere. More questions rushed out of my mouth. “What will his cognitive abilities be? Will he be able to interact with us? What does Elan’s future look like?” She paused to consider the questions. Finally she replied, “I don’t know.”

I have heard those three words a lot in the last two months since that appointment. Elan has been diagnosed with epilepsy. Will seizures be a regular part of his life? I don’t know. His is currently on three different seizure medications. How long will these meds work? I don’t know. A recent bout of seizures compromised his swallow ability, requiring him to be put on a NG tube to eat. Will he regain his swallow ability, or will he be tube fed for the rest of his life? I don’t know. Will he ever know my face? Will he ever hear my voice? Will he ever be able to walk? Or talk? Or sing? How will he experience beauty in this world? I don’t know.

And yet, in the midst of all this unknown, there is beauty. There is beauty in recognizing the image of God in a boy who experiences life so differently. There is beauty in the way the community of Jesus has surrounded our family to help us bear burdens we would not be able to bear ourselves. There is beauty in my brand new appreciation for the episodes in the Gospels where Jesus makes the deaf and mute speak, makes the blind see, makes the epileptic cured, and makes the lame walk. There is beauty in knowing that God is fully able to reveal himself to Elan, despite Elan’s limitations.

We don’t know what the next few decades hold. But we do know how this story ends. It ends with heaven invading earth. With resurrection. With healing. With restoration, justice, and unity of all things. The end of the story is beautiful. And even between now and the end of the story, there is beauty - beauty in the glimpses of his kingdom coming, and, in the midst of the unknown, beauty in walking with the God who has made himself known to us.

Music

“So Will I” by Hillsong.

“God of Your promise

You don’t speak in vain

No syllable empty or void

For once You have spoken

All nature and science

Follow the sound of Your voice”

Meal

White bean chicken chili - a delicious accident. The meal is a result of following a recipe on one page and accidentally finishing with a different recipe on a different page. Recipe here.

Prayer

Father, I do not know what tomorrow holds. But I know the One who holds tomorrow. Help me to trust when I cannot see. Help me to walk by faith, and not by sight.

Time

Pastor and author Tim Keller has said, “To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God.” Jesus came so that we might experience being both known and loved at the same time. This week, take a look at the people around you. Who feels like no one really knows them? Who feels like they are unknown, and thus unloved? Consider the opportunity you have to be intentional and vulnerable with these people this week. As you carry Christ in you, may you yourself be the beauty in the midst of the unknown.

Contact: shumate.cory@gmail.com /  @coryshumate

Beauty in the Unknown - Wk 2

Word

I'm staring at an unfinished canvas in my room. What do you need? The vaporous background looks like a portrait swallowed in smoke, and the anticipation of peering behind the veil almost seems better than whatever might even be revealed.

I'm no artist— an understatement— yet something compelled me to pick up an armful of canvases and paints last week. It's likely connected to the dreams I've been having lately: the ones where I seem to be skimming across bronze, slate, and black pools of paint - swept up on crests of colored waves that are sometimes solid enough to stand on, and other times flood over me like a tsunami. Their force pushes my body along, lifting me and ferrying me down through hues of vibrant seas. The paint never binds to me, and yet I can't seem to move beyond it.

These visions of untethered buoyancy began around the same time I found myself embarking on an uncharted course. Last summer, what began as a quiet evening in a prayer labyrinth somehow unfolded into a current that disrupted the known and controllable elements in my life— and I've been caught in the undertow ever since. In short, it meant uprooting and moving 2,000 miles westward— away from dear friends, a stable job, a beloved church, and surrendering the scraps of my own badly-drawn plans.

Now I am swimming in upheaval and unknowns - yet I have found so much new peace in surrendering the relics of my stability to God in order to find Him. It hasn't fulfilled my expectations of what I imagined was ahead; it ended up demolishing them entirely, replacing them with what I didn't even know I needed.

For instance: how much displacement has removed what had given me a sense of security. Yet, within the demolition of those walls, I also found it was removing a protective layer that I unwittingly constructed to keep well-hidden wounds from exposure. I had relied on it to keep areas of my heart from experiencing new harm, but it also prevented it from being tended to and made whole. I had no idea there were wounds requiring attention until the bulk of my armor was removed. The process healing has already begun.

It's not easy to relinquish a desire for safety when it's asked of us. Not having a barrier between us and the wild elements of the unknown introduces a set of anxious questions: Can I survive this? If I give up what belongs to me right now, will my hands ever get to hold anything good enough ever again?  Will I ever be able to find our way back home?

Despite the danger, something deep within us leaps with prospect of being changed by God. Something within us desires to trust and follow the way to a Creator who first revealed himself to Israel not in an easily seen form, but cloaked in hints of clouds and flame. They weren't given certainty ahead of their journey, but in the process of following, their identity and purpose was formed. Allowing ourselves to be shepherded into the unknown leads us to abiding close to heart of God. Abraham leaves his old name to find a new one— and with it a new identity. Moses, who can't see beyond his limitations in word and speech, becomes God's megaphone to his people. Scripture recalls many others— Gideon, Ruth, Esther, Paul— who listened, threw away predictive scripts, and found themselves beautifully transformed by what they embraced instead.

My eyes return to my canvas. Perhaps if I can navigate the fog beyond my brushes, I can hold fast and trust the mystery I'm being led through is for my benefit, not befuddlement. Or maybe I can find that the colors found in dreams aren't meant to impart some authoritative form of meaning, but are waves of beauty to enjoy and delight in. Maybe this leads to an Artist, who can see beyond what's been committed to canvas— patiently adding little by little to an intricate work— seeing it, and saying that it is good, very good.

I let the mystery dry before adding a new layer.

Meal

Amidst change and transition, I have found much comfort in the stability of a morning routine. I like to wake early and prepare a simple breakfast to accompany a time of quiet reflection, Scripture, and centering prayer.

What usually fills my plate and cup:

3 sunny-side-up eggs with a dash of tabasco sauce

1 smashed avocado with pepper

2 slices of applewood smoked bacon

A pour-over of freshly roasted Zambian coffee

Music

Kim Janssen - Cousins

Prayer

Good Father, open our hands to release what we hold onto so tightly for security. Let us be unafraid to dismantle what keeps us letting your love abide in our hearts. Remind us that to lose our tightly-held lives for your sake is to gain it fully. Let be in love with Your mystery, and not see it as something to solve. Lead us and change us by the power of your Spirit and in the name of your Son.

Time

Leave the distractions of idle time and go for a lengthy walk. Flirt with boredom— no phones allowed. Where do your thoughts land? What occupies your mind? Take note of the emerging themes. Do you find yourself anxious about anything? Instead of running from it, run into it. Cross-examine your discomfort. What's the question behind the question? Where are the wanderings of your heart and mind leading?

Contact

Christopher Maier  — christopherwrites.com // christopher.b.maier@gmail.com

Beauty in the Unknown - Wk 1

Word:

To be honest… I don’t know.

Those words are scary to admit. There’s that saying that what we don’t know can’t hurt us, but wouldn’t you rather just know? I would! Whether it’s how my boss feels about my performance at work, why my friend is busy tonight, where my keys are, or what’s going to happen next on my favorite TV show, I want answers. And when it comes to more significant things like my future, I’ll do whatever I can to plan ahead and avoid the unknown.

Recently, that’s been impossible for me. These days, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know where God and I are heading. I’m stuck in this in-between world, certain change is coming around the corner, but I’m not at all sure what that change will look like.

It’s like I’m on a mountain ridge in heavy fog. I want to move forward and take the next step but I can’t see where I’ll be when I do. Any action seems risky. The rocks under my feet are not as stable as I wish they were. The view around me not as clear as I’d hoped.

At times like this, when I’m living in the unknown, I find I can easily get paralyzed. Instead of trusting that God has a good plan, I’m tempted to stubbornly sit down and wait for the fog to lift. Getting overwhelmed by not knowing all the details can make me lose sight of what I do know.

When I actually think about it, even in the unclear circumstances I face in life, I have already been given all the clarity I need. I’m not on the mountain alone; I have an expert guide with me who doesn’t merely know the path, but controls even the fog on our journey. I know that He is good. That He loves me. That He promises He has the best plan for me, one of hope and future.

I know these things because He’s told me and because He’s proven over and over again that they’re true. We’ve been together on mountain ridges before and it’s been worth stepping out in faith every single time.

So, to be honest… I don’t know.

Lately, when people have asked me what I’m going to do next, or where I’m going in the future, that’s my answer. It’s scary, but I’m still moving forward and following God in faith. The beauty of the unknown is that it pushes me to cling to what I do know.

Meal:

When I’m in the midst of a lot of unknowns, I am grateful for the things I do know. One of those things is this healthy meal that makes me smile every time I eat it, especially when I cook and eat it with friends.

https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/2016/02/22/peanut-chicken-zucchini-noodles/

Music:

I’ve been playing this song on repeat recently as a needed reminder of what I do know. I’m so grateful to be able to hold onto these truths while on the mountain ridge.

“This We Know” by Vertical Worship

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sq233lM3k9w

Prayer:

You Who Knows Everything,

I admit that I often don’t know what I wish I knew. Thank you God that while I face the unknown, you are with me and can see clearly when I can’t. Your promises keep me moving forward and your plan gives me hope. Help me to step out in bold faith even in the fog. Guide me and give me wisdom.

Amen.

Time:

One thing I’ve found helpful recently is taking time with a candle, a warm drink, and a notebook to jot down some of the truths I know and how I’ve already seen God guide me through unknowns in the past. Dwelling on what I know somehow puts what I don’t know into perspective and is good motivation to expect God to lead me down the best paths. I’ve also talked about those things with others. Getting to share about how I’ve witnessed God at work in my life is always time well spent and hearing about what God is doing in the lives of those around me is super encouraging when facing unknowns.

Contact: @amerson6 on Instagram

Beauty in Restoration - Wk 4

Word:

I use to think that I would spend the rest of my living in my brokenness. But now I know that Jesus desires for me to join in the restoration of my heart.

I remember the day my grandfather died. I’d awoke early in the morning in the same bed that my grandpa and grandmother had slept in for longer than I could remember.  I could hear my mother crying from the living room. It was just the night before that we were at the nursing home sitting next to his bed. No words, no eye contact, just simply looking at a man who was once strong now bedridden. Hearing my mom cry I felt helpless, I felt scared, and honestly in some ways angry.

This wasn’t the first time I’d felt those feelings.

The weather outside was overcast, rainy, honestly far from pleasant. I don’t exactly remember what age I was or what day of the week it was, but my dad was visiting my sister and I for the first time in what felt like years. It was just my dad and I was we drove back to my mom’s house. He kept drilling me with math questions, the whole time I kept getting them wrong. Eventually my dad got fed up with me to the point where he said he would make me walk home. It’s funny how well we remember these kind of moments.

It was only a couple hours later that I was standing on the front porch holding my moms hand watching as my dad drove away. Even thinking about it now there’s a level of sadness and anger I feel for that younger version of myself. As I look back at the story of my life I see how this one event has affected me throughout the rest of my life.

This is why I’ve had such unrealistic expectation for myself.

This is why I’ve never felt good enough.

This is why I’ve never allowed myself to be angry.

This is why I’ve felt that no one would ever accept me for who I am.

-

Now I’m not here to give you some magical formula to make your life instantly better. And I’m not saying that I’m done processing through all of these stories. But what I want to do is share a couple things I’ve learned so far.

Restoration is a process.

A process that involves a lot of vulnerability, kindness, and grace for not only yourself but the people who have caused you harm.

It involves a lot of patience.

One of the  biggest things I’ve learned is that it’s a process that is not done alone.

Having friends who can help you process is so important.

And not just trying to give you advice (there is a time and place for that) but actually reflecting your story back to you and helping you process.

-

At our core we all desire to know and to be known. To care and to be cared for. To love and to be loved.

For the longest time I was never comfortable with blessing those desires. I felt unworthy of being loved by someone for who I was.

The road to here has not been easy. But I’m glad for where I’m at now and where I’m moving towards. I’m at a point where I can bless my desire to be known and cared for by someone.

The invitation that Jesus has given us to join the restoration of all things means all things. Which means your story doesn’t end with the hardships that you’ve experienced or the way life is now.

“Aim for restoration, comfort one another, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you.” - 2 Corinthians 13:11

Meal:

I am a sucker for burgers.

And this recipe here is well worth trying!

Music:

Pluto - Sleeping At Last

https://spoti.fi/2L28VOl

Prayer:

Jesus, we come to you now for our hearts to be renewed in you, restored in you, and to receive your grace and mercy.

We ask for you to show us the areas in our lives which desire restoration, and healing that only you can provide.

Allow us to rest in the finished work of your cross, death, burial, and resurrection.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Time:

I’ve found that journaling has been a very fruitful way for me to process my life. Sometimes it’s about my childhood, other times it’s about what’s happening in my life, and sometimes it’s about nothing really related to either. Regardless it’s been a great way of spending my time.

Twitter: jeremyjayyap

Instagram: jeremyyappy

Beauty in Restoration - Wk 3

WORD

On the kitchen floor in a puddle, brokenhearted by my own actions and feeling the full weight of my mistakes. This is where I was when I understood what the cross was all about. Jesus hung there because I mattered more to him than his own comfort and happiness. I mattered so much that, even if I was the only person on earth who needed forgiveness, he still would have hung there in my place. That realization set me free rather than filled me with guilt, which at first, seems like opposite world. I guess it is opposite world – that place where Jesus lives.  A place where you love your enemies, turn the other cheek, forgive, and sacrifice.

I married very young, freaked out after one year of marriage, and left my husband in pursuit of “something more secure”: a relationship that I though would bring a stable future. The truth was that I was a frightened young girl with father issues and I didn’t know I should have been turning to God for stability and comfort. Even if I did know that I should, I didn’t know how; and at the time I probably didn’t want to know. I mistakenly thought I had to leave to find happiness, contentment, and the sense of purpose and validation that I was desperately missing. What that decision brought me was over twenty years of emotional and physical abuse, which I believed I deserved for leaving my husband. Part of me still has trouble fully letting go of the guilt. After all, I made that choice and deserved whatever consequences came as a result. That’s what I told myself until the day I fully grasped that God loved me too much to let me continue that way. That’s where my long and difficult seven-year journey to freedom began. Once I was finally, truly free of the abuse and accepting the love and support of my church community, my life took an unexpected, unbelievable turn.

I received an email from the man I left so many years ago. When I saw his name in my list of messages, my first thought was “I can’t deal with this.” I was a single mom, working full-time, and still fighting ridiculous court battles with my abusive ex-husband without an attorney. My kids were suffering the consequences of living without enough money in a crappy apartment and the emotional trauma of having an abusive father and living through divorce. So, even though I really wanted to know how he was doing, I just didn’t think it was a good time to start talking to anyone. It quickly became obvious that God had another plan. The man that I prayed for consistently after I left - prayed that he had the loving wife he deserved, prayed that he was safe and happy - was miraculously, mysteriously, back in the picture. Five hundred miles apart, we began talking daily through phone calls, email, texts. Two years later, we were remarried. My marriage was restored. While we’ve had a lot of baggage to sort through, we are solidly, happily, and forever bound together. And we both know that during our years apart, God carried us through each day, paving our paths to merge again exactly where they should.

This picture of a husband loving his bride, forgiving her, and waiting with loving arms for her to come back to him – this is an example of Christ loving his bride, the church (all of us), forgiving her (all of us), and waiting for her (all of us) to come back to him.

As a young man marries a young woman,  so will your Builder marry you;
as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride,    so will your God rejoice over you. ~ Isaiah, 62:5

PRAYER

Father: Remove the guilt we cling to; let us feel your Spirit and understand that the sacrifice of the Son has set us free. Thank you for letting us feel your love and your presence. Thank you for being a God of restoration.

MUSIC

Second Best, Joshua Calhoun

https://open.spotify.com/track/769NjfrkBI2O7x4bJwuJPJ

MEAL

Rather than a full meal, how about a refreshing, restorative drink? Coconut water with fruit. Put a few pieces of your favorite frozen fruit into a tall glass (strawberries, pineapple, berries, peaches), fill with organic coconut water. Restore your fluids!

TIME

Be still. Set aside at least five minutes and just sit there. Fifteen would be better. No music. No TV. No phone. Lock yourself in the bathroom if you need to. Take some deep breaths. Ask God to make himself obvious. Keep breathing. Be restored.

Beauty in Restoration - Wk 2

Word:

Restoration.

The act of returning a structure to its original condition. Most often associated with homes.

Not to be confused with remodeling or renovation – where old things are made new by an addition, or even a complete transformation.

But sometimes – in the case of a heart for example – when the current state is so far gone from its original condition, restoration sure does feel like a complete transformation.

This is my story.

At 29 years old, my heart - and subsequently my life - had become unrecognizable.

It hadn’t been a fire, or flood, or an isolated incident that had caused this damage.

It was more like a gradual accumulation of consequences – quietly destructive effects of the bad decisions made by a deeply-wounded, lonely, hurting woman. 

And what had made my condition particularly dangerous was that up until this point I had somehow been able to hide it.

I had slapped a coat of paint called denial on my broken life which made it difficult for others to see the cracks on the outside.

But on the inside, I was falling apart.

And instead of repairing my foundation, I chose to fill the cracks with temporary fixes: alcohol, food, clothes, men…

Of course these solutions only succeeded in furthering the decay.

Until one morning, the corrosive effects of another night of binge drinking finally ate through my fragile facade.

With no recollection of the previous night’s events, but disturbing evidence of considerable damage, I swallowed my pride and called my mom for help.

And she gave me the number for a carpenter.

From that moment on, my heart has been under construction.

And where the temporary fixes had previously failed to fill the holes, Jesus Christ is rebuilding me from the ground up. Brick by brick.

But while the before and after pictures of my life after Christ’s restoration are quite stunning, the real beauty isn’t in how I appear to the world now – it’s how the world appears to me.

I’ve got a new heart now. And with a new heart comes new eyes.

Everything and everyone is more beautiful to me now because I finally see them for what they truly are: gracious gifts from a loving, faithful Father.

Even myself.

Where there was once pain, where there was once fear, where there was once loneliness and unworthiness. Now all I see is the fantastic, perfect, unending love of my Savior.

And my God, is it beautiful.

Meal:

Unfortunately my heart hasn’t been the only part of me in need of restoration over the years. I’ve struggled with digestive health problems my whole life. I started taking it more seriously about 5 years ago and have since learned so much about the healing powers of proper nutrition.

Soup is one of my favorite restorative meals when my stomach needs settling. It’s so warming and nurturing – like a hug for your insides. This recipe is particularly healing with the abundance of detoxifying vegetables. Treat yourself or a loved one to this bowl of love.

Chicken Detox Soup for the Soul:

Ingredients:

1 1/2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breast

2 quarts chicken broth

1 large onion, peeled and chopped

3 cups broccoli florets

2 1/2 cups sliced carrots

2 cups chopped celery

1 1/2 cups frozen peas

1/4 cup chopped parsley

3-4 garlic cloves, minced

3 tablespoons fresh shredded or grated ginger

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar

1/4 – 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper

1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric

Salt and pepper

Directions:

Set a large sauce pot over medium heat. Add the olive oil, chopped onions, celery, ginger, and garlic. Saute for 5-6 minutes to soften. Then add the chicken breasts, broth, carrots, apple cider vinegar, crushed red pepper, turmeric and 1 teaspoon sea salt.

Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer for 20+ minutes, until the chicken breasts are cooked through. Then remove the chicken with tongs and set them on a cutting board to cool.

Add the broccoli, peas, and parsley to the pot. Continue to simmer to soften the broccoli.

Meanwhile, shred the chicken breasts with two forks, and stir it back into the soup.

Once the broccoli is tender, taste, then salt and pepper as needed. Serve warm.

NOTES: For best results, use all organic ingredients.

(https://www.aspicyperspective.com/chicken-detox-soup/print/)

Music:

“Resurrecting” by Elevation Worship.

Prayer:

Father,

My prayer today is for those whose lives are in need of more than just a fresh coat of paint. Whose patched hearts are worn and hurting. I pray that today will be the day they call on you for help. Help them see and believe in the beauty of your original blueprint for their lives. Give them courage to allow you to break ground and lay a new foundation of your unfailing love.

Amen.

Time:

Restoration is not a simple process. Nor is it a short process. Or a pleasant process. The detox of my own heart as I began to give my hurt up to God was messy. And painful. But there is beauty in God’s promises. In the hope and faith we have as believers that God has come to make all things new. In His time. So call the carpenter. Start the project. And watch in patient wonder as God’s love slowly, but surely, begins to restore your heart.

Michelle Grano

Beauty in Restoration - Wk 1

Word

I’m not old (yet), but my left hip doesn’t care. I thought he was my friend. He’s been with me all my life, supported me through thick and thin (well, mostly thick), and never raised a complaint. What changed? Why did he turn on me a couple years ago? How did he shift from being so stable to painfully unpredictable and unreliable? I don’t know what went wonky, just that my left hip has suddenly decided not to play nice anymore.

My doctor’s response when I visited him about my sore knee took me aback. I never expected him to immediately say, “Well, how’s your hip?” Sure, “shin bone connected to the knee bone, knee bone connected to the thigh bone, and all that jazz,” but really? Most days my hips are fine, can’t we just deal with the knee and get on with life?! What I thought would be a simple diagnosis has since turned into myriad doctor visits, lengthy exams using fancy machines, weeks of (barely successful) physical therapy, and a surgery that’s scheduled for not too far in the future. Until then, I guess it’s safe to say my left hip is winning this round.

When I think of restoration, I can’t help but think of getting my left hip repaired soon. My body’s never been through anything like this, but I’m no stranger to the process. I’m well on the other side of growing up in a divorced home and wondering what my own home and family life would amount to one day. I know the pain of losing a job, a friendship, a dream, a loved one—and still coming through stronger on the other side. I’m also intimately familiar with having my hardened heart changed from the inside out by the gracious, redemptive, love of Christ. What needs to happen to my left hip so I can experience beauty in restoration isn’t something I want, but it’s definitely something I long for.

In my limited life experience, restoration can’t be rushed, must be healing, should be complete, won’t be easy, and will be good. This process takes time and a lot out of me. Fortunately, the real work is on God’s shoulders not mine. My job is simply to cooperate in the rehab—or better yet, to stick with my sanctifying adventure—one renewing day at a time.

I love the imagery of Jesus the Good Shepherd in John 10, especially verse 10: The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Oddly enough, this passage reminds me that while I’m drawn toward “abundance”—or life to the full—I all too often seek out “steal, kill, and destroy.” As much as I’m not old, I’m even more imperfect. I’d like to say I have more “shepherd days” than “thief days” as time goes on, but I’m not so sure. Fortunately (yes, fortunately), I have some ruthlessly honest family and friends that keep me in check each step of the way. Life in all its fullness isn’t something I’m experiencing completely, but I’m grateful its taking root more often.

Today, my left hip is playing the thief. It’s no different from me being sabotaged by sin or some reckless relationship. Whether it’s my doing or not, I must do something about it. I can ignore or fight what’s true, but that won’t change my pain. The only way for me to rediscover beauty in restoration is to lean on my Good Shepherd and follow his lead. Will it be scary? Yes. Do I need to be afraid? No. I can trust that there’s hope on the other side of this. Why? because God who’s been faithful to restore before promises to do it again—potentially for my left hip and certainly for us all (if you don’t believe me, reread Revelation 21:1-5).

Meal

My wife, sons, and I love a good “snack plate”—a random spread of deli meats, cheeses, fancy crackers, exotic (or not-so-exotic) fruits, vegetables, assorted olives, dips, and even some fine chocolate. When our kids were young, we didn’t go all “Charcuterie & Cheese Board” (we might have if we had heard of it!). Instead, we’d slather peanut butter on celery and fill the rest of the plate with whatever else was leftover in our fridge and pantry! There’s something satisfying (and beautiful) about making a meal by simply restoring what’s laying around.

Music

For too many years I paid zero attention to my soul’s health. Taking regular doses of John 10 and Psalm 23 has helped change that. I can’t offer a better prescription than playing the video below to start and end your day at least once a week.

“Restore My Soul” by Mosaic Church (Winter Garden, Florida – http://thisismosaic.org)

Written by Zack Olsen & Seth Kaye

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQVU9laQX34

Prayer

My Lord, my Shepherd. Restore my soul. I will follow you in the way of peace. Amen.

Time

There’s beauty in restoration all around: road construction, rainfall, applying (or removing) make-up, vacuuming, rebooting a laptop (or a friendship), forgiving an offense, taking a nap, eating lunch—the list is endless. This week, go out of your way to notice what’s being renewed in the world. Then, whenever and wherever you stumble upon it, let God know you agree that it’s good.

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Beauty in Restoration | Dan Lovaglia

Beauty in the Past - Wk 4

Word:

It’s 2011 and it’s bitter cold outside. Christmas just passed a few days ago but it sure doesn’t have the normal holiday feeling as past years. See just a few days before Christmas my grandma who had been battling cancer for the third time collapsed on the way to the restroom. Thankfully my grandfather and mother were both with her at the time. An ambulance came and rushed her to the hospital, she was stable for the time being. As the chain of phone calls were made to update the family on the latest it was an unspoken reality. This would be grandma’s last hospital visit. Two years earlier granny was diagnosed with this last cancer for the third time in 20 years, unlike the cancer before it this bunch had spread throughout her body, clearly and devastatingly making it terminal. As I think back to this time my appreciation for who my grandmother was has grown. Not only was she a strong, kind, loving wife mother and grandmother. She was human. She had struggles like anyone else. She had fears and short comings and lord nose didn’t always make the right decision. But despite her humanness she never stopped trying to grow into the person she knew God designed her to be. And looking back how sad it was to watch her suffer through the cancer but what a beautiful example she was and still is to me of someone that knows who is in control even when the circumstances seem out of control. A time all always remember was a few months before she past myself and an old friend went to pend some time with my grandma one Saturday evening. She couldn’t get around to well and when we got there she was laying in her bed watching TV. So we each lay on each side of her and just visited. We were there for hours. Watching terrible lifetime movies, eating bologna sandwiches and laughing, oh how much we all laughed that night. Its funny to me that I couldn’t tell you one thing we talked about that night but I will always remember the way pending the time with my friend and grandma made me feel.

It’s the morning of day eight since we’ve been in the hospital. Granny’s motor skills are 95% gone and she can barely hold hands let alone lift her own head at this point. Grandpa went home last night to sleep; it’s mid-morning now so we expect him to arrive soon.

This moment I will never forget. I was sitting on the couch in the hospital room with five of my family members. They were all visiting and watching TV when the door opened and in walked my grandfather, immediately something about his demeanor caught my attention. It was as if he didn’t even notice any of us in the room, and even stranger is that no one else seemed to notice him either. As I watched my him walk toward my grandmother he said something to her in French, my jaw dropped, I had no idea my grandfather even spoke French. Grandma lay in her bed asleep, yet as soon as he spoke her eyes opened and her gaze met his. He took her hand, and leaning in, his face so close to her’s, he softly spoke words with such emotion that they both began to weep. As I sat there watching this it was as if the room had stopped and all I could see and hear was them. Jay and Kay, two souls united, declaring the love they had for one another. Thanking the other for sharing their life till death do them part

Meal:

Anytime I would stop over my grandparents’ house my grandma would make me a bologna sandwich on white with mayo and mustard.

 Music:

Celine Dion, My heart will go on.  Outside of Celine I’m not sure if my grandma listened to anyone else

Prayer:

Father thank you for who you are. Thank you for all the emotions that you’ve given us to use in relationships. Lord please teach me how to use them well and in alignment with your example.

Time:

Life can be dark. Circumstances can be overwhelming but only if we close our eyes. This week, if life is crazy or even if it’s going smoothly I challenge you to stop for a moment and look for God in the details.  I assure that you’ll see Gods beauty in the most common parts of your day. 

Beauty in the Past - Wk 3

Word:

This too shall pass, they say. You’ll get over your dad’s suicide and you’ll forget about that terrible job and that arrogant boy. You’ll move on. Forgetfulness, forward progress: it’s what the world pushes all of us broken people towards at a ridiculous pace, even when we’re not ready. And I’m not ready. I’m not ready to forget, to get over it, to move on but I am ready to remember, to forgive, and to see the beauty in this past of mine.

But let’s be real: it took me 11 years to be ready. 11 years before I could remember and process that my dad died by suicide. Sitting with a journal and a pen in the rain staring in the face what his suicide haunted me with: reckless guilt. I took myself and my journal, all shakingly wet, inside and wept while a friend read that journal, painfully knowing that getting over it wasn’t working. All I wanted was to heal; to no longer be defined as the daughter of a man who killed himself.

If you were to tell me I’d be set free bit by bit after that day, I would have choked on my water.

6 months later, I awkwardly initiated conversation with this same friend and he unexpectedly prayed over me that I would know I am a daughter of the King. I could have choked on my water. Man, the forgiveness and healing that would ensue as a result. I don’t remember anything else he prayed about because I just remember feeling all that guilt fade away. This was who I could be!  Alone in my head and heart, I tacked on my own prayer before the Amen came: “Jesus, I want You, I want to be Yours”.

A month later, I made a choice to potentially be able to choke on some water, I got baptized. In all seriousness, it was a physical display of 11 years of guilt and shame surrendered and a future that never looked so clear. For the first time, it all looked so beautiful.

Music:

Reckless Love/Cory Asbury.

Meal:

Extra cheese pizza. We ate a lot of pizza growing up as kids. The thin crust kind that you buy at Aldi and pop into the oven for 22 minutes or so. So good. To this day, extra cheese is my go-to with pizza. Oh, pepperoni and sausage pizza comes with cheese? Not enough, friends. Not enough.

I think I love pizza as much as I do because there was a night where my dad was upset and refused to eat but I warmed him up some leftover pizza and he ate it. Pizza is a sure-fire way to the heart.

Prayer:

Jesus,

I am broken.

In the grips of this world, I am wrecked by guilt and shame.

I ache to be forgiven but I know too well I am unworthy of it.

And no matter how hard I try to right my wrongs, it is not enough.

Heal me, Lord. As only You can.

Bring me to the end of myself so that Your work can begin.

But don’t leave me there alone.

Surround me with Your holy people.

May they walk with me, teach me, and love me.

Surround me with Your Holy Spirit, Lord.

May it guide me out of the deep waters

And into Your deep grace for me.

Jesus, in your hands, I am safe.

In Your hands I can heal.

Take my life and let it be Yours

 for I am Yours and You are mine.

Amen.

Time:

Find your people. The ones who will read your tear-stained, rain-soaked mess of words and tell you it is gonna be okay. The ones who will get coffee with you, hear you out, and pray for you time and time again until you’re okay. The ones who get brunch with you at the crack of dawn because schedules are nuts and it’s been too long. The ones who will see the same movie again with you because you haven’t seen it yet. The ones who will meet you halfway at a café to catch up on lives and work. The ones who let you into their homes for lunch and make room in their lives.

Yes, it is awkward sometimes to let them in. Do it anyway. Start small if you need to. Write your hurt down and let someone read it while you sit next to them. Let your pastor pray over you. Find a church that will love you and help you heal and grow. Text a good friend and ask to get coffee. Ask someone you look up to if they will mentor you. Join a group of people your age with the same goals. Schedule a counseling appointment. You can do it.

I promise you’ll catch glimpses of the beautiful here.

Contact: @perkowskianna on Instagram/ www.perkofsorts.wordpress.com

Beauty in the Past - Wk 2

Word

In 1977, the miniseries Roots inspired many Americans, including my father, to dig into their family history. Since this was long before genealogy websites and at-home DNA tests, he spent hours poring over dusty files in county courthouses, sorting through old photos, and tromping through small cemeteries, trying to piece together names and dates and places and faces kept in writing in a tattered leather briefcase. Years later, I picked up where he left off, joining the branches of my mom’s and dad’s families into one gigantic tree. Thankfully, I now had webpages and pictures posted by distant cousins. With these resources at my disposal, I’ve worked my way back to 12th century England. (Pretty cool, huh?) As I find those who have given me their DNA, I imagine their lives back then and over there. What were their hopes for their children? What was their greatest hardship? What helped them persevere?

In my family I have pastors and veterans as well as drunkards and slave owners. Farmers and lawyers; merchants and teachers. I have beamed with bittersweet pride while holding letters and photos my grandfather sent from his deployment in France in 1945. I have been dumbstruck reading accounts of my 9-great-grandfather fleeing for his life from religious persecution. I’ve had to wrestle with the implications of my family’s participation in this country’s “peculiar institution”. I laughed out loud when DNA tests busted the myth that I’m a Cherokee princess.  (I am whiter than rice, y’all.)  As I learn more, it is becoming clear which family members I can be proud of – the ones who, for all I know, were squeaky clean – fine, upstanding citizens who loved God and contributed to their communities. But what do I do with the “dirt”? What do I do with the stories that are tinged with shame?

It is human nature to want to be the hero of our own story. But all of us have a few characters in our family drama who aren’t as virtuous as we’d hoped they’d be. Check the Bible and you’ll find the same thing. The first book of each Testament contains a genealogy in its early chapters. Among the familiar names of those we deem heroes, like prophets and kings, are names of women who were summarily dismissed, those who are relatively unknown, and those who, frankly, were pretty horrible human beings.

Yet intertwined in the branches of each family tree is God Himself, willing to restore the brokenness, heal the wounds, and direct our attention toward His grand narrative of redemption and relationship. Our past can remind us that God Himself is the hero of the story, the only true hero, and the only Hero any of us will ever need.

If all families are a collection of virtue and vice, as our individual lives are, we need not fear facing our familial and individual pasts. No need to keep up the façade; no need to curate our stories until they seem shiny and perfect. There is beauty in our family history – a bunch of faces and stories that few people knew, but in the grander scheme can show a little more about a God who calls us all by name.

Meal

Everyone has a story around food and family – a favorite, a tradition, that dessert that never turns out right unless one certain family member makes it, a celebration that’s just not complete until that dish is on the table. Even if it’s not the “right” time of year, make a dish that’s special to you and your family. If nothing comes to mind, here’s something from my family that showed up often on Sundays and holidays. In the classic southern tradition, it’s a “salad” that’s not really a salad. But it is green, so there’s that…

Pistachio Salad*

1 c. milk

1 package pistachio instant pudding

3 c. mini marshmallows

1 20 oz. can crushed pineapple

8 oz. Cool Whip®

1 c. chopped pecans

Mix pudding and milk; add rest of ingredients and mix. Chill until firm – preferably in a vintage mustard-yellow Tupperware® bowl.  J

Song

John Mayer’s “In the Blood”. A profoundly honest piece about what we inherit from our families and the longing to not be bound by the pain of our past.

Could I change it if I wanted/Can I rise above the flood/Will it wash out in the water/Or is it always in the blood?

Prayer

Dear LORD,

Regardless of our families’ past, we invite you into our present and our future. Show us where you are working to redeem and reframe our past to show YOU at work then and there as well as here and now. Show us where we need to hold on to the good we have inherited from our families, and where we need to break free and lean into Your grace.

Amen.

Time

Get some stories. Spend some time talking to siblings, parents, grandparents…what are the abiding values and characteristics of your family? What have you inherited (good, bad, and maybe ugly?) Use an app like StoryCorps to record them, or just record on your phone. I’m thankful for handwritten stories from my grandparents, but what I’d give to hear their voices.

For the curious – take advantage of a free trial period of genealogy websites. You never know what you’ll find.

Marsha Vaughn

@drmvaughn (Twitter)

Beauty in the Past - Wk 1

Word

I was born into a Buddhist family in a small village of Cambodia. My parents had 6 children and I was the youngest. When I was 3 years old I started to develop a skin disease on my left knee. It started out just a small dot, but it kept growing bigger and wider each year. My parents loved me, and they tried very hard to find a cure.

One day a villager came by and said “oh, it looks like toads skin, just burn some toads skin and put on it,” and so we did. After killing all the toads in the village, the skin disease was still there.

Another villager said, “there is a very good sorcerer in a nearby village, take her to him.” so we went to see him. When we got there he chewed up some leaves, then he started spitting all over my knee. Still nothing happened.

Another villager said, “A witch doctor is coming to our village. You should take your little girl to the witch doctor.” and so we went to see her. The witch doctor put five cotton balls on my knee and lid them on fire. The witch doctor made me swallow poisonous seeds and eat bitter roots. The witch doctor then told my parents that I would need to go live with her for one month. So my parents sent me away to live with the witch doctor lady for a month. After a full month of burning, and scraping and eating poisonous stuff, the witch doctor sent me home still with the disease on my knee.

When I was 8 years old, my Cambodian Dad died from HIV. He had passed it on to my mom, and she too died two years later. They both died at the age of 42. I remember feeling so lost. It was dark and confusing. My heart felt numb. My siblings got separated and at 10 years old, I was placed in an orphanage.

The orphanage had 42 children living in a rented one bedroom house. The girls slept inside the house and the boys slept outside. The first month I was there, we slept on the cold concrete floor. In the first year we bathed ourselves in a pond that had many different plants growing in it. Some of us were allergic to the pond water, and we scratched our bodies like crazy.

We had rice every meal. The cook had a very tight budget. She liked making soup with vegetables and about a pound of pig fat floating in it. In the rainy season, the boys would go out into the fields and catch frogs, fish, snails and snakes. Anything they caught became our dinner.

Once in a while we would receive food donated to us. One weekend a group of monks brought us several bags of rice. The next weekend a group of Christians brought over fruit and snacks. The Christians were trying to tell us about Jesus, but I wasn’t interested. At that time I didn’t care about religion. I had stopped praying to Buddha because I had lost the interest, and it was no longer important in my life.

In those three years, I tried running away from the orphanage three times, but my plan failed every time. One day as I was doing my daily chores at 5 am, I was so tired and mad at my hopeless situation. I stopped working. I looked at the sky and said, “Jesus if you are real, take me out of this place.” I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was my first prayer. I was desperate. I didn’t know who else to turn to, so I turned to Jesus.

Not long after that, a group of American missionary doctors and nurses came to my orphanage. They realized how dirty the place was, so they got on their hands and knees and scrubbed the floors, and boiled the mosquito nets and washed our hair with lice shampoo and then, they checked our health.

I went up to one of the nurses and showed her my knee. The nurse did not know what it was and she had no medicines for it, but she asked if she could pray for me. To be polite I said yes, fully doubting that anything would happen. After she said amen, I looked at my knee and the disease was still there.

Three weeks went by, I looked at my knee again and I saw only the scar. My mind instantly raced back to the moment when the nurse was praying over me in the name of Jesus. I thought to myself “I think Jesus healed me.” From that moment on my heart was soften toward Jesus, and I sought to know him more. Several months after that, I got adopted by a Christian missionary couple, and my world was turned right-side-up.

My adoptive parents took me with them to Thailand. I was 13 years old. I lived there for 7 wonderful years. I became the first child in my Cambodian family to graduate from High School. In 2011 my adoptive parents helped me get to college in America. I attended Judson University in IL where I met my husband.  

Since accepting Jesus to be my Lord and Savior in 2004, He has been so generous, so faithful, and so good to me. He truly is the Light that shines in the darkness. Every time I look back at my past, and every time I look at the scar on my knee I’m simply amazed and in awe of God.

I was a poor, lost and hopeless orphan with nowhere to go and no one to depend on. And as I was at the dead end, broken in that dirty orphanage, in that crowded city, God found me, pursued me, and loved me in a way that I had never been loved before.

Prayer

Our dear loving and compassionate Father, I thank you for your mercy. Thank you for your pursuit of every heart in this world. You are the God who sees and hears and you respond. I pray that you shine your light so brightly in dark places around the world right now. I pray that you respond quickly to those crying for your help. I thank you for your healing and rescue. I thank you for the scar that I can look at and be amazed of you. In the name of your Son Jesus I pray, amen.

Song

Jesus We Love You (Bethel Music)

Time

Take time to love. Love those God put in front of you. Always speak words of truth and words of encouragement. Complimenting those you love when they are with you means so much more than saying nice things about them on their obituary.

Meal

Thai Stir Fry Cashew Nut Chicken (My adoptive parents’ favorite Thai dish).

https://hot-thai-kitchen.com/cashew-chicken/

Beauty in Sacrifice - Wk 4

Word

Really leaving home and the comforts of the familiar for the first time is really hard.

But it was this situation I found myself in just 6 months ago. I was working a job I was overqualified for and didn’t like just so that I could continue to live in the Chicago-land area and keep my life as I knew it going smoothly. I worked hours I didn’t prefer and gave up time to spend with my wife and daughters because I was committed to being close to home, to my friends, to my mom, to my brothers, and to everything that gave me comfort.

The job I was working wasn’t a ministry job, which had been my previous occupation. I was a worship leader and had stepped out of ministry for a year and a half and was now just a “working stiff” earning a paycheck and getting awesome health insurance working for a major company.

But about a year ago, I felt the Holy Spirit calling me back to ministry, and so I naturally assumed that that ministry meant staying in Chicago-land and being close to family and the creature comforts I so desperately felt like I needed.

So I applied like heck to any and every church in the Chicago-land area that was looking to hire a worship leader. And one church after another said “no thank you” and moved on. I was heartbroken. Why wasn’t it God’s plan for me to be ministering amongst the people and culture that I knew and close to the hometown I loved?

As one door after another closed, I had two options: I could stay working in this job that I didn’t like in order to provide for my family, or I could sacrifice the location I felt so drawn to in order to obey the calling God had placed on my life to serve him in the capacity of leading worship for His people.

So I started applying at other churches in the Midwest, really anywhere in the United States, and lo and behold, a church in Indiana wanted me to come and be their worship pastor. As much as I wanted to stay in the Chicago area, I knew that the Holy Spirit was leading me away from home and had provided this position for me where I would have all my needs taken care of. It just meant laying on the altar all of the comforts of home I had come to cling so tightly to.

As a man it hurt to sacrifice the certainty that goes along with a steady job and home that my family lived in to chase after the direction I felt the Spirit leading me to. There was great sacrifice in laying down certain money, health insurance, retirement, grandparents nearby, aunts and uncles providing free babysitting, etc. All the stuff I relied on to establish me as a man and family provider were there.

But I discovered in the process of obedience, that if I did not sacrifice that which I clung closest to in my body, I could never experience the intimacy of living life by the Spirit.

So I laid home on the altar and took the position. And I’m incredibly grateful that I paid attention to the Spirit’s leading rather than clinging to all the things I knew and made me feel secure. God has done some amazing things in the last 3 months through His Holy Spirit, and I’m glad I laid down my home and even my mother and brothers in order to follow where He was leading.

Meal

Leaving home creates discomfort, and so comfort food is what this is all about. Chocolate brownies are my comfort food. If you are like me and like comfort food and want the world’s best brownies, check out this link http://allrecipes.com/recipe/143667/brookes-best-bombshell-brownies/?internalSource=hub%20recipe&referringContentType=search%20results&clickId=cardslot%201#

Song

A song called “I Give Myself Away” by William McDowell off the album “As We Worship Live” has always spoken to me as a simple prayer to God, asking that we lay ourselves down, regardless of what our desires for ourselves are so that he can use us.

Prayer

God, whatever it is that keeps me tied to anything other than you and your leading, I pray you break immediately. Help me be aware of the comforts in my life that distract me from the holy discomfort that living life by the Spirit sometimes brings.

Time

There’s beauty in sacrificing something that brings you comfort. For one week, give up the thing that gives you the most physical comfort, and when you want that thing, instead find a way in the community you live in to give that thing to someone else in some way.

Beauty in Sacrifice - Wk 3

 

Word

Romans 12:1 Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.

Sacrifice. Ransom. Forfeit. Surrender. Give up. Let go.

The premise of sacrifice is that it is not easy. You have a decision to make, presumably for the betterment of mankind, or society, or a situation.

Yet, sacrifice is not always a grand gesture. In the little things, we make sacrifices every day. Anything you do for another is a little sacrifice.

In history, there are plenty of examples of people sacrificing for others. One that comes to mind is Marie Curie surrendering her health and life to further the study of radiation as a diagnostic tool, something we are benefitting from today.

As I write this, I'm sitting in a hospital waiting for my Mom to come back from having a PET scan done. That's a test to see if her cancer has migrated from the location in which it was found. Here’s a little background on my Mom.  She was born in 1935, during the Great Depression.  Her family was poor; they moved frequently and her dad had a number of sketchy professions over the years, including bootlegger and smuggler. Her parents finished 8th grade and married at 16. She picked cotton, she wore flour sack dresses.  She was the first in her family to finish high school, but college was beyond her reach. She married my dad at age 22, moved a few more times, and raised three daughters, but they always struggled financially. He passed away 14 years ago, just shy of their 45th Anniversary.  Six months later, she fell and broke her leg, resulting in four months in the hospital and three separate surgeries. After that, a heart valve replacement. Then, a stroke followed by a second open heart surgery.  That's when I moved her out of her apartment in Chicago and into a Senior Community close to where we live.  I have taken care of her every day since, through even more health challenges, despite having a full house and full time job.  

Today I've taken the morning off from work to bring her to a hospital that she's never been to for a test she doesn't want to know the results of.  She was stoic right up until they wheeled her away, when she looked back at me with fear in her eyes.  

She has spent more than 80 years being last. As someone who never had much, it makes her uncomfortable to be put first.  She regrets these years that we have foregone doing things that we’d like to do, such as take a vacation, or eat dinner before 8:30pm so that I can make her dinner and get her ready for bed before I go home to my husband, kids and grandkids. She may regret it, but I don’t. One day she won’t be here for me to serve and take care of, and I will know that I have done everything I could for the one who has helped me to find the beauty in sacrifice.

Meal: Whenever we approach the Communion Table, we’re reminded of the ultimate Sacrifice of Jesus - whose body was broken and blood spilled on our behalf, so that we may be whole and blameless in our Father’s eyes. Whatever meal is shared, consider the words of Eugene Peterson in his book, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Conversation in Spiritual Theology: “Hospitality is the daily practice in keeping sacrifice local and immediate: a meal prepared and served to family and guests is giving up of ourselves for another.” Living in the Chicago area, my favorite sharable dish is pizza. It’s flexible (you can put anything on it) and absolutely intended to be shared.

Music: Legacy - Nichole Nordeman

I want to leave a legacy,
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? 
Did I point to you enough?
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ah1COE39ARs

Prayer: Father, you know more about sacrifice than any of us ever will. We thank you for the example you set, and the gift of knowing that nothing given for another is truly lost; instead, it’s multiplied. May our lives be a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to you, as our act of true and proper worship. Amen.

Time: Put time on your calendar to serve someone who can’t help themselves. Schedule it or it won’t happen.

Beauty in Sacrifice - Wk 2

WORD

There I was, flying to a friend’s wedding, sobbing.  

10 years earlier, I had recently graduated from college. I was single and had debt up to my eyeballs. A teaching job just wasn’t happening so I decided to move home near family. My sister was pregnant with her third child and I loved the idea of being close.  That June, unexpectedly, the phone rang from a school in Kenya offering me my dream job. Panic hit. There is no way I can move to Africa on my own. I have to raise support. How will I pay my school loans? How could I miss the birth of my niece? I said no.

Two weeks later they called again. But my reasons remained. A month later they called again.  This time I was boarding the plane to a friend’s wedding. I spent the flight making a list of pros and cons.  The pros took a resounding lead. This is when the sobbing started. I was grieving a future I had already grown comfortable with and fearing a new one packed with unknowns. Then I remembered my dad’s advice, “Never miss an opportunity to say ‘yes’ to God.” So, I said yes.

That day was just the beginning of many tearful plane rides including the one I am on now as I write. I have one child asleep beside me and another on my lap. We just said goodbye to grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles again. An unplanned rendezvous in the US was one we’ll cherish but it never gets easier to leave. Each time the thousands of miles across the ocean, back to Indonesia now, are harder because we know what we are leaving. What we’re missing out on. What we’re sacrificing.  

2016 was one of the most challenging years yet as I contracted Dengue Fever, Malaria, Zika, Typhoid fever, and an amoeba.  But I also saw God at work in new ways, despite how frail and weak I was. He taught me that it isn’t about me, but it is about Him and the beauty He brings out of messy situations.  I have seen the smiles of people hearing God’s truth for the first time in their language. I have seen the peace of parents holding their sick child, no longer fearing the evil spirits as they used to. I have seen the joy of people begging for God’s Word in their language and finally having people come to do the hard job.

The sacrifices have been great but the reward has been greater. Yesterday I hugged my sister, both of us sobbing, saying goodbye once again for who knows how long. “See you later” is bitterly difficult, but I now know that sting of pain is a prelude to the beauty God has coming.

It makes me think of Moses’ mother and how she was willing to risk the life of her whole family to save that sweet baby.  Against every motherly instinct she had, she was willing to place her tiny boy in a basket and into a river. The sacrifice was great but she knew her God was greater. She chose to say “yes” to God and bring the beauty that came from Moses’ life.

MEAL:

When I moved to Kenya I fell in love with CHICKEN CURRY!  Try this simple life-changing recipe.  I made it for my family when we were all together over Christmas and even my nephews went back for 2nd helpings!

MUSIC:

Oceans by Hillsong United always challenges and encourages my heart.  “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the waters WHEREVER you would call me.”

PRAYER:

Loving Father teach us to trust You.  To follow You. To make sacrifices for Your glory. To be brave. To say Yes!  

TIME:

As a wife, mom, teacher, missionary and friend life is full. I’ve been learning to take captive my thoughts (2 Cor. 10:5) .   It is the amazing the time you will free up when you are not worrying about the “what if” and “if only”. Game changer! I learned a lot about this through the book Loving God with All Your Mind by Elizabeth George. Join me!

Beauty in Sacrifice - Wk 1

Word:

Joy tells us that we love something.  Sacrifice tells us how much. --Dave Barnes

Sacrifice.  The word alone doesn’t roll in a beautiful way off of our tongues.  It clings to the roofs of our mouths not wanting to be professed or, even worse, experienced. The paradox I’ve experienced in my own walk with the Lord is that there can be a bruised beauty in so much of what we call the Christian life.  Sacrifice is one of those things. The witness of true sacrifice, the complete emptying of self for the good of another, makes me weep at its beauty.

As Jesus clung to life as He hung from the cross we see the perfection of love made manifest in the ultimate sacrifice of the Father.  And yet we know this is not meant to be solely a reminder of the sacrifice that was made for us, but rather a model of which we are called to imitate.  So what does real sacrifice look like?

I have a friend, an incredible witness in my life, who has shown me the unvarnished beauty of sacrificial love. Fran is remarkable.  She is kind, loving, funny, and a mother who has lost a child. For many years she fought, and fought hard, against the drugs and mental illness that ravaged her son’s mind.  She spent sleepless nights praying, days researching, and every minute of everyday loving her son. I was blessed to have her son in my middle and high school ministry programs and he was a wonder of creation.  Bright, funny, compassionate beyond understanding, loving, and a friend to strangers. Every moment I got to spend with him was gift and pure joy. I watched this woman, his mother, my friend, give everything for him.  In the end he wasn’t able to experience life beyond high school, but he experienced enough sacrificial love through his mother in his short life than most experience in 80 years on this earth. What moves me even more, is that what would normally have broken a heart beyond repair, has turned ashes to beauty.  See, Fran hasn’t stopped loving. If anything she is even more convicted of the need for everyone to know Jesus, and His redemptive love. She finds the broken and the wounded and carries them to the Healer; even in her own discomfort she lives sacrificial love. She images Mary to me, the mother of Jesus at the loss of her own son.  

Jesus was a sacrifice that is for us, but His parents, Mary and Joseph, bore that loss too.  Mary, so full of grace, so full of love, wept for her baby boy. Then she gave her life to the service of man, so much like my Fran.  If we are going to truly love, and love deeply, we must be prepared to sacrifice, and not count the cost. In moments when I think of Fran, and in moments when I miss her baby boy, I think of the words of Mother Teresa: “A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, and must empty ourselves. Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in His love than in your weakness.”

Prayer:

God thank you that you loved me so much that you gave your son for me.  You poured out all your love in the shedding of your son’s blood. Lord pour your love into me, and give me the grace to pour it out for everyone I meet.  Let me pour it out for my family, my friends, my neighbor, but also give me the desire to pour it out for the lost, the lonely, the homeless, the refugee. I’m so weak God.  So often I think only of myself, or of myself first. Give me your heart. Help me to see as you see. I need you Lord. Amen.

Time:

Each day see if you can make two little sacrifices for love.  One for love of God: Sacrifice something you would normally do and spend your time with Him.  One for love of neighbor: Give something up so someone else might have something they need.

Song:

United Pursuit – Seasons Change

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7k5pqBVinA

This song pours the steadfast love of the Father into my heart.

Meal:

Here’s a recipe for some amazing Chicken Piccata.  Invite some friends over, crack open a few bottles of wine, and fill your house with the comforting smell of butter and garlic.  It’s a little salty, a little acidic, and all smoothed out with a little white wine – much like life, right? Serve it with some crusty bread and angel hair pasta for a meal that will make you want to stay around the table all night long.

http://blog.williams-sonoma.com/chicken-piccata-with-artichokes/

Beauty in the Interruptions - Wk 4

Word

I don’t like to stop. I like the idea of pausing to reflect, but not enough to take a break. Left to my own devices I’ll keep going until all the gas in my tank is gone. I’ve discovered the hard way that this brand of living takes its toll over time. It affects my health and relationships in every sphere. It weakens the work God has for me in the world and who He desires me to become. And still, fully aware that I’m a man not a machine, most days I steer clear from stopping myself.

Interruptions are a gift, a reminder that the universe doesn’t come to a halt whenever I do. As a son, husband, father, employee, lay pastor, and more, I easily trick myself into being busier and busier. My motivation? An insidious belief that I must perform to be known, loved, and appreciated. This false reality is fueled even more by my propensity toward perfectionism. Without interruptions, I would run myself into the ground. Without divine interruptions, I would be lost forever.

And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but are yourself lost or destroyed? Luke 9:25 NLT

The Holy Spirit had me stumble upon Luke 9:25 several years ago. It’s essential to faith formation, and, in context, this verse speaks to evangelism and salvation. Rather than shelve Jesus’ words in systematic theology, God used it to interrupt me with one of its myriad applications. My eyes were opened and my heart was convicted. What if “gain the whole world” sums up my insecure desire to perform everything perfectly? And what impact, according to this passage, will my detrimental drive have on my soul? I don’t recall where I was when this truth hit me, but it was clearly a divine interruption.

Taking a forced break to peer into this piece of Scripture changed me. The Spirit’s divine interruption through Luke 9:25 illuminated my inner anxieties, called out my outward behaviors, reset my priorities, and gave me an anchor to revisit when I allow perfectionism to get the best of me.

I still burn the proverbial candle at both ends much of the time. Too often I keep going well past my God-given capacities and circadian rhythm. But, I’m not who I was before the Holy Spirit graciously tripped me up on His truth. Today my soul is much more sensitive to being interrupted and welcoming it as a gift.

Meal

My family and I, like many others, look forward to Taco Tuesday (or Thursday, Saturday, Monday, any day really!). Beyond the food itself, we enjoy the extended time it takes to prepare and the process of building our own creations around the dinner table. Taco Tuesday comes with extra interruptions simply because we have to ask one another to pass the tortillas, meat, cheese, lettuce, sour cream, tomatoes, onions, salsa, and whatever else we put in little bowls that evening. For a family made up of mostly firstborns, this exercise in slowing down and asking for help grows our patience, servanthood, and gratitude. And, rather than focus on perfection, Taco Tuesday gives me the opportunity to let creativity and community soar instead of trying to go fast and get everything right on my own.

Music

Acoustic guitar music soothes my soul. I was interrupted by Trace Bundy’s album, Adapt, a few years back and listen to it frequently when I need to slow down or stay focused. “Moon Rise” is the final track on this amazing work of art. Perhaps God will use it as a divine interruption in your life as much as it has in mine.

“Moon Rise” by Tracy Bundy (Album: Adapt, 2004)

https://open.spotify.com/track/0Fr9MMsSmrzBn4UylcLPjq

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJzS0haYB04

Prayer

Jesus, you say “come to me” and give no parameters for who, when, why, or how. You welcome interruptions from anyone at anytime and for any reason. Forgive me for trying to keep the world around me running through my performance and perfectionism. Thank you for interrupting me with your divine grace and truth. Remind me frequently to pause, stop, reflect, and change course so I can love You and others, and even myself, as You do. Amen.

Time

There’s a difference between distractions and interruptions. This week, ask God make it clear when He is divinely interrupting you for the sake of your soul. Read and reflect on Matthew 11:28-30. What holds you back from slowing down to approach Christ when you’re overwhelmed with opportunities, obligations, and obsessions? Set aside time each day to invite Jesus’ much needed interruptions as a gift.

Beauty in the Interruptions | Dan Lovaglia

Beauty in the Interruptions - Wk 3

Word

When I was a junior in college, I lived with six friends in a shabby but comfortable house just a block off campus. While the ceiling of my basement bedroom did nothing to dampen the sound of my music-major roommates’ practicing in the room above, I do miss the place.  For a few months, at least, it was home.

One surprisingly quiet evening toward the end of the spring semester, I took a break from studying and came upstairs to get something to eat.  There in the kitchen was one of my roommates, a friend since my first week at the university, pacing the kitchen in a sweat, his face flushed, his phone to his ear.  He kept repeating phrases like, “Where is he?” and “What happened?”

“Is he ok?”

“Is he alive?”

I stood to one side of the room, leaning against the cabinets.  He didn’t seem to notice I was there until he hung up the phone, until he turned to me pale and looked not at but through me.  “What’s going on?” I said.

“My brother,” he replied.  “He tried to—”

We hurried to my car and began a three-hour drive south, which I (though shaken) was in a better state to make than he.  As I drove past streetlights reflected on wet pavement, my friend called hospitals and begged for information.  He had no idea where his brother was or what condition he was in.

Finally, half-way there, we received a call.  He was alive.

When I think of interruptions, I often think of things that get in the way, that distract from what I “should” or “want to” be doing.  But that night, I felt no hesitation at placing time between my plans and, well, my plans.  Something jolted me out of myself, and my focus moved to that which was truly important.  As it happens, it was the last meaningful time I spent with my friend.

Interruptions echo our own brokenness while providing opportunities for reflection, reconceptualization, and change.  They are breaks in the seeming (or desired) continuity of our own plans, not-always-subtle reminders that the true continuity of life—of life everlasting—stems from His plan and His alone.  I consider this when I sit working on schoolwork or planning lessons, when my children crawl into my lap and want to point out letters on my keyboard.  These moments are “breaks between” my plans and my plans, and what interrupts is often, I’ve found, most important, most meaningful.

Music

At every opportunity that arises, I share Death Cab for Cutie’s song “Title and Registration.”  In it, Benjamin Gibbard sings about a sorrowful interruption to his own plans: As he “was searching for some legal document” in the glove compartment of his car, Gibbard recalls, he “stumbled upon pictures [he’d] tried to forget.”  These pictures, from (the lyrics suggest) a failed relationship, cause him to recall the love lost between himself and the person to whom the lyrics are addressed.

While the song is absolutely a lament, the event described provides Gibbard an opportunity to reflect upon and process—rather than repress—the relationship and its end.  The discovery described in “Title and Registration” interrupts Gibbard’s attempts to forget and provides him room for lamentation, which is made all the more meaningful by the music that accompanies his words.

https://youtu.be/1XmbvfxMiUE

Meal

Besides being both a student and a teacher with his own interests and occupations beyond the classroom, I have been blessed with two incredibly curious children and a wonderful, multi-talented wife who is active in our church and our community.  We balance so many activities and interests that interruption is, for us, inevitable.

That is why one of my favorite meals to make is a simple concoction we created years ago, before we had kids, when life was different but just as busy.

Ingredients

-Chicken breasts (3-4)

-Bell peppers (2; green, yellow, or orange)

-Red onion (1)

-Large tomatoes (2)

-Vegetable farfalle or rigatoni (1 box; typically 12-13oz)

-Choice of dressing (we typically make our own vinaigrette, but ranch works just as well)

Process

Brush chicken breasts with olive oil and season lightly with ground pepper.  Bake according to directions (changes, obviously, depending on whether breasts are frozen or fresh).  While chicken is baking, cook pasta; rinse cooked pasta with cold water immediately, drain, and place pasta in large bowl.

Chop bell peppers and onion; cut tomatoes into wedges.  Place vegetables into bowl with pasta and mix.

Cube or slice cooked chicken depending on preference and place in bowl with other ingredients. Mix.  Place bowl with all ingredients except dressing in refrigerator for at least one hour.  Once chilled, serve in small bowls, mixing dressing into each small bowl immediately before serving.

What makes this dish especially wonderful is that its preparation can be done bit-by-bit over the course of a few hours (or even done a day ahead), allowing ample time for interruptions—whatever their source.  Simply toss into a large bowl whatever has finished or has been cut up, cover with plastic wrap, and throw it in the refrigerator until you can come back to finish making the rest.

Prayer

Heavenly Father,

Help me to recognize the difference between

My plan and Your plan,

Interruptions and endings,

Desires and needs,

And to shift my focus

To that which is most meaningful,

To that which glorifies.

Amen

Time

What often makes interruptions so troubling is our belief that time is limited.  How often, when faced with distractions, will we say “I don’t have time for this”?  I ask—of you, of myself—time for what?

What beauty may come from the serendipitous distraction?  I intend to find out.

Beauty in the Interruptions
by David Alan Smith
dalansmith26@gmail.com