Life & faith reflections

Countdown to 2014: top 10 books read in 2013, part 3

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 2 Comments

If you’re just now joining in, this is the final part of my “top 10” countdown. Click on the links for part 1 and part 2.

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#4 The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin (2011)

I blogged a good bit about this one already during the summer, so it will come as no surprise that this made my top 10 list. I found Rubin’s suggestions and reflections based on her “happiness research” to be intriguing to read about and formative to practicing happiness in daily life. She reminds us that happiness is found not in the all-inclusive week at a Caribbean island, but that it awaits us around each quite ordinary corner of our own homes. Happiness is a practice and a mentality more than it is a set of ideal circumstances. As one who can be overly critical of my own life, always waiting for “better” around the corner, I appreciated the push to stop and engage in looking for happiness here and now. One of the best take-aways was to begin blogging more regularly (daily at first in June), refusing to wait for “perfect” to attempt something I’ve wanted to do for awhile.

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#3 The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown (2010)

Those of you who have been reading my blog for a few months will find this to be no surprise either. I am a huge Brene Brown fan. Her work has shaped and influenced other writers and bloggers I enjoy, notably Glennon (and her book I reviewed yesterday). I read Daring Greatly after this one, and I have to say that I prefer The Gifts of Imperfection for its concise and practical summary of all of her shame/vulnerability/empathy research. She condenses it into “10 practices of Wholehearted people,” and each chapter spells this out along with suggestions to put it into practice. The one that’s stayed with me the most is the need to cultivate creativity. Hence my desire to embrace the messiness that IS art with my preschoolers, like the 15 minute finger-painting session yesterday which left red, yellow, green, and blue paint everywhere. And, yes, it was only 15 minutes. Long enough to do about 4-5 “paintings” each and to empty each of their 4 jars of paint to 15% or less. Astounding …

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#2 What It Is Is Beautiful by Sarah Dunning Park (2013)

I received an autographed copy from the author of these beautiful poems about motherhood, and she is one of those truly filled-with-beauty women whose poetry pours forth onto the page as a balm for the soul. My soul as a mother has often needed to stop and savor and read these poems which put words to my own experience of the tender and excruciating journey of motherhood. I cannot recommend her book highly enough, and I have given at least half a dozen (if not more?) copies to friends this year as gifts. Love these poems, love the author, love this book. It’s part of the beauty and creativity we need for our souls to thrive.

Drumroll, please?? And #1 book read in 2013 was … 

photo credit: thenester.com

Grace for the Good Girl by Emily Freeman (2011)

Have you ever read a book that’s your story, put into book form? This is it for me. I have my whole life been the quintessential “good girl” (with a few covert “rebellious” breaks that included slamming my door in high school after yelling at my parents and listening to Nirvana on full blast). My first deep encounter with grace the summer after my sophomore year in college transformed me – for I realized for the first time in my life how much I, Heather Elizabeth Davis, goody-two-shoes, needed grace. I couldn’t be good enough, no matter how many hour-long devotions I had or small groups I led or people I shared my faith with. In fact, some of these endeavors were actually in fact ways I sought to hide from my need for God. I would feel self-sufficient after a “good” quiet time and wouldn’t turn to him throughout the day. I would feel superior and self-righteous to others who weren’t as “holy” and judge them. For I was out of touch with my own neediness and I was blind to my own blindness. Even our goodness is worth nothing to God – no one can be good enough for a 100% holy God. Yikes. But he has made a way to bridge the gap. Jesus! Grace, mercy, clothed in Christ’s righteousness so that I can stop hiding behind my own attempts to be good. I can receive help from others instead of having to be the helper always. I can be honest about being hurt and weak and vulnerable and shame-filled. There is always grace. All is grace. Emily writes beautifully about these truths through the lens of her own story. What a good place to end for 2013, and what a good place to begin in 2014!

the gaps of Christmas

/ Heather Davis Nelson / Leave a comment

What a beautiful Christmas we are enjoying today! In addition to all of the generous gifts lavished upon us by family, there is the gift of these moments of quiet reflection (thanks to one napping girl and the other out on a Christmas walk with Daddy). And if you’re like me, despite how perfect any Christmas is from year to year, there are always reminders of the “gaps.” You know, the ways that Christmas never quite meets up to our expectations of it. The way my sentimental definition of “Christmas” misses the mark of “real” Christmas. The way I myself get off track from what IS the heart of Christmas, or rather WHO is the heart of Christmas: God as a baby in a humble manger. 

Praise be to God that he always takes the initiative to bridge these gaps. That Christmas itself is the most brilliant, bold reminder of this. We have a God who bridged the gap that I caused – that I was blind to – that I made no efforts to resolve. Out of love, he came. Knowing the rejection awaiting, the vulnerability that he (God!) would be clothed in – the humble circumstances and the eventual surrender of the best connection he’d ever had: to God his Father. He gave that up willingly for me. For Love.

To bridge the gaps in my heart that so many feel this Christmas. Like parents or siblings or children who have died, of spouses deployed, of wounds reignited by holiday gatherings, by the gap between expectations and the reality in which we live. Christmas on this earth, no matter how postcard (or Instagram, or Facebook) perfect, will always leave us longing. Longing to be with the one who came for us. Longing to follow the Christ-child into places of deeper humility and service in his name. Longing to see redemption in the gaps of our broken world caused by sin – which are even now being healed but will be so completely one day.

Redemption came in the Sunrise from on high, the one whose Elijah prepared the way by causing “those who are rebellious to accept the wisdom of the godly” (Luke 1:17). And I am the rebel who doesn’t want wisdom. Christ gently and boldly leads me to it again and again. It starts in a manger, culminates in the cross, is proved victorious and supreme by the resurrection. Let me accept true Christmas/gospel wisdom today. To lift my eyes above the gaps I see to the One who came for me. Whose love never stops. Who even now is showering me with grace more abundant than the gifts beneath our tree. And in beholding this Love, let me love.

A quote from my favorite Advent devotional this year by Ann Voskamp:

In the thin air of Advent, you may not even know how to say it out loud: “I thought it would be easier.” And your God comes near: “I will provide the way.” You may not even know who to tell: “I thought it would be different.” And your God draws closer: “I will provide grace for the gaps.” You may not even know how to find words for it: “I thought it would be … more.” And your God reaches out: “I will provide Me.”

God gives God. That is the gift God always ultimately gives. Because nothing is greater and we have no greater need, God gives God.

when Advent arrives (the end of the waiting)

/ Heather Davis Nelson / Leave a comment

When I wrote last week’s post on the waiting of Advent, my brothers and I were all waiting. Scattered up and down the East coast, from Maine to South Carolina, we all were awaiting quite poignant gifts. Both sisters-in-law were pregnant, due within a week of each other!, and we were eagerly waiting for the gifts of these babies.

And within a week, both gifts were delivered. Jonathan and Nicole welcomed their first daughter (third child), Abigail Katherine, on Thursday morning, December 6 (on her due date). And I gained my first niece! Six days later, on her due date of December 12, Bryan and Megan welcomed their first baby, Isaac Lee. My “baby” brother having his first baby … I can hardly believe it!

I am reminded that the end of the waiting is a gift. It is a gift immeasurable to see these babies cradled in the arms of their parents, babies which even just two short weeks ago were still nurtured in their mother’s wombs. To see these gifts delivered! The gift of a first daughter; the gift of a first baby … And there is a taste of Advent here. The “already” part of Advent – that there is a baby who has been delivered. Isaiah echoes this promise –

For unto US a child is born, unto US a son is given …

And yet I am still waiting to meet these sweet gifts. I rejoice with their arrival, and I ache with longing to hold them and kiss their sweet faces and welcome them to the world and actually see/witness/experience the joy of their proud parents. And isn’t this like Advent? We rejoice that our King has come, humbly born and laid in a manger. That He began the redemption revolution and its end is guaranteed. But yet we await the full experience of it, don’t we? There is still suffering, tears, infertility, death, grief, abuse – that remind us that we still await the FULL Advent, of our King will will “make all the sad things come untrue.” (Tolkien)

I am sharing a poem I wrote with the birth of my first nephew over four years ago. And it is now in honor of these two sweet babies, barely and not quite a week old now. There can’t be a better way of celebrating AND awaiting Advent then for these parents as they cradle their newborns.

Who will this little one be?
So much potential!
Tiny toes, hands, feet …
what miles will you walk?
What work will you do?
Who will you become?
Your world is a blank canvas.
Yet planned by a Creator who has been forming you from the beginning of time. He knew your face before any of us glimpsed it.
He knows what will make you laugh and cry.
He sees your end from the beginning.
And he loves you more than any of us can.
(hard to believe – I haven’t even seen you yet
but I love you already because you belong to us)

A late night prayer is that you will come to know
the One who knows you early in your life.
You have a better chance than many because
you will see Him in the lives of your parents.
They will show His love to you in 1000 ways, reflecting it to you like a prism’s rainbow of light.
May you receive it,
drinking it in like water in a desert’s oasis.
This world is difficult.
You will find that out too soon – it is a desert
and it often feels like wandering wilderness,
but there is refreshment to carry you through.
It’s the beauty of Christ … the way He is making all things new.As he has made you new tonight.

So this evening,
your first evening in this world,
rest well.
Sleep well, little one.
You will awaken soon enough.
The journey is long and sweet and beautiful. Welcome to the family.

the waiting of Advent

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment

A season of longing, of waiting, and it begs the question – what are you waiting for? For we are all waiting for something, someone, some change of circumstances or some relief or joy or hope or life to pass.

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There are those waiting for test results, like we waited ten years ago as a family, and then heard not only once but twice the dreaded diagnosis of “cancer” for each of my parents (within two weeks).

I think of many friends who are waiting for a baby. Either by adoption or conception. And the waiting is agonizing, month after month of month of hope and disappointment – cycling through the heart till it feels it cannot bear it any longer. Hearing false words of comfort, meant to cheer but which feel empty and despairing. “Try this – there’s always next month! – children are so hard anyway …”

Women and men who are waiting for healing, for redemption, for forgiveness of ones who have wounded them, abused them, degraded them. Will it ever come this side of heaven? How long, O Lord?

There are Christians persecuted around the world, awaiting an end to the faith-induced suffering (while some “Christians” in America claim Jesus as the way to a suffering-free life).

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Maybe you are waiting the interminable wait of grief, of longing, of mourning for loved ones who have passed away – a parent, a child, a best friend, a sibling, an aunt, uncle, cousin … and you, too, cry with the psalmist, “How long, O Lord?”

Some of you, like me, feel like you’re waiting for an impossible stage of parenting to be done. Waiting for tantrums to decrease, for kids to grow up (?), for this stage to pass like all those veteran parents promise it will, and too soon.

Some are waiting for a new job, for a move, for what’s next, for a house to sell, for a baby on the way, for school to finish. And there is joy mixed in some of this waiting.

Yet in all of it, we feel a longing. A yearning that this Advent season, a season of intense waiting and longing for … the One. The One who redeems the broken places we dare not speak of aloud, the sorrowful places we cannot bear to revisit, the weary-worn-out-hopeless places we fear may take us under, the suffering that feels too much or too mundane or too constant or just simply too long. He comes.

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The wait is over when we wait on the Lord. For his coming is as sure as daylight after the longest night. The heart that waits on him is never disappointed. For seasons will pass, healing is slow yet sure, comfort is there for every grief, grace is there for each trial, and in all of the waiting there is the presence of Love with us. God with us. Emmanuel. With each Christmas carol, we too can rejoice (even in our waiting) with Zechariah in Luke 1:68, 78-79 –

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people … because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

On my bookshelf

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 2 Comments

20131121-112437.jpgAlthough I haven’t posted about books in awhile, I have still been reading a lot … no surprise to those of you who know what a bookworm I am. This “on my bookshelf” is actually from a couple weeks ago – but without further ado, here we go with my review of the above. It’s a good sampling of what I usually am reading – fiction, a faith book, a cultural/counseling study, and some sort of devotional.

Fiction:  Shanghai Girls by Lisa See is a riveting glimpse into a period of history I don’t usually consider – that of pre-WWII China before the Japanese invasion and Mao’s Communism, following the story of two Chinese sisters who escaped to the US through Angel Island, only then to be under the harsh accusation of being Communist decades later. See’s books are well written, both in terms of literary form and story. Two previous ones I’ve read by her are Snow Flower and the Secret Fan and Dreams of Joy (this last one is actually a sequel to Shanghai Girls – I read them out of order!).

Faith: Gospel In Life small group study by Tim Keller is an excellent resource for any community of faith small group to study. The format is great – with a thought-provoking individual study to prepare for weekly group meetings; then discussion questions based around a DVD lecture by Keller; and good suggestions for applications to put into practice what we study. I’ve been challenged to examine how well our small group community actually reflects the biblical shape of a faith community (caring for one another; bearing each other’s burdens; encouraging/exhorting one another; etc.). Another theme that challenges and moves me to action is how living out the gospel leads us to engage our cities in real ways. That we need to be involved in our cities and neighborhoods for the sake of our faith as much as for the sake of the city.

Cultural/counseling: Daring Greatly by Brene Brown is one you’ve heard me talk about here before. I just can’t read her enough – after The Gifts of Imperfection, this is a longer more comprehensive look at how the principles she discovered through her shame research are worked out in what she terms as “Wholehearted living.”

Devotional: Help, Thanks, Wow by Anne Lamott is a book recommended to me by a favorite older friend at church. It’s as unconventional as she is (love you, Ann), and also refreshingly thought-provoking. Lamott always does this for me – puts spiritual truths in words that I can hear in a new way (too often I am calloused by familiarity with church-y words and Christian culture). And so Lamott has condensed prayer life into three cries of the heart: “help,” which is obvious; “thanks,” which is also self-explanatory; and “wow,” which was the newest piece to me. I close with a few words on “wow” –

When we are stunned to the place beyond words, when an aspect of life takes us away from being able to chip away at something until it’s down to a manageable size and then to file it nicely away, when all we can say in response is ‘Wow,’ that’s a prayer. … What can we say beyond Wow, in the presence of glorious art, in music so magnificent that it can’t have originated solely on this side of things? Wonder takes our breath away, and makes room for new breath.

Five Minute Friday: “tree”

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 3 Comments

It is five minutes before Friday is over, but I will still post. It’s been a long day, and one which has ended infinitely better than it started [I am at the beach with friends for a getaway; this morning I was greeted by demanding three-year-olds awaking an hour earlier than norm after a night of sleep that felt too short]. The weeks have been full; writing has felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford in between survival and to-do lists and conversations and work.

Yet I will come this Friday and join in this weekly rhythm of writing, five minutes on an assigned topic. Here I go …

“tree”

photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu

It stands as a metaphor for life’s seasons and rhythms. Wintry barrenness, stark silhouettes of branches against grey sky remind me of the beauty of winter which can feel so bare yet it so necessary. Solitude belongs here. It gives way to buds blossoming in the glory of spring – of recreation, renewal, refreshment, life after death, resurrection. The life was at work in the barren branches, but that life was hidden until spring’s release. And then summer, ahhh summer. My favorite of seasons. Vibrancy; full green leaf flourishes; verdant. These are the peaks of life when all feels as it should; when life abundant is evident and overflowing.

But what’s most glorious in the life of a tree? It is autumn. Death on display yielding radiant hues of unmatched beauty. As a tree gives up its life; color reigns and the world radiates and shines. Trees take center stage as they move from summer to winter, from life to death. And isn’t it so in the life of a soul? That as I lay down my life, as I yield in the daily death of sacrifice, as I face what feels impossible, I will shine with the grace of my Savior. Whose death yields life for me daily. Whose death set the world aflame with glorious beauty of hope – that spring and summer will always come again.

Five Minute Friday: grace

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 2 Comments

I used to think of grace as a word lax Christians used to excuse their sin. Did I need grace? Certainly not. As a self-professed “good girl,” growing up as the oldest daughter who kept the rules (at least outwardly) gave me my secure identity as a good Christian who didn’t really need grace. That was for those other “sinners.”

And then my sophomore year of college hit. I tried following the law in ways I hadn’t tried before: one-hour long daily devotional times of prayer and Bible study; leading a discipleship group weekly; seeking opportunities to share my faith with others; trying, trying, striving, striving. Where did I end up? Exhausted. Weary. Literally an insomniac plagued with worry for what if … what if I wasn’t doing enough?

The following summer I hit my knees out of desperation. I remember crying out to God, begging for him to help me because I couldn’t do it anymore.

Enter grace. It flooded in like color into my formerly black-and-white world. Grace was everywhere that summer. In the book of Romans I was reading; in our pastor’s sermons every Sunday; in conversations with my best friend who was also undergoing a “grace revolution.” It was like the advent of technicolor into my Christian life.

photo credit: cultofmac.com

photo credit: cultofmac.com

I needed grace, and that’s when I began to experience it. For grace is generously lavished upon all who know that they need it.

***

Today I’m participating in Lisa-Jo’s “Five Minute Friday,” a chance to write unedited for five minutes on a word given by Lisa-Jo each Friday. Come join us!

what keeps me from creativity

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 3 Comments

In reading through Brene Brown’s book, The Gifts of Imperfection, her chapter on creativity was particularly thought-provoking and inspiring. [The mark of a great author is to do both, and Brown does this so well!] I began last week with my thoughts on “why a non-crafty mom needs creativity” and wrote it as “part 1” of my creativity thoughts. Here is part two.

First, my experiments with creativity over the past week:

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I ventured into the mess; bought craft paint for my girls to paint a pumpkin with; and let them go to it. We all had fun, and the mess was less than I thought it would be.

I also bought glue sticks for them. (yes, small step – but really a big leap forward for me) They are the look purple-dry clear type. Which meant my girls used them as paint. And while I sipped my morning coffee on Sunday, I looked up to find purple glue everywhere. On the tile floor, on the refrigerator … you get the picture. I was reminded why I often don’t venture into the arts and crafts realm with twin three-year-olds. The good thing is that they’re old enough now to consider it fun to clean up their mess. Which they did.

And then perhaps a less conventional expression of creativity happened when I stuffed the dirty pots and pans into the kitchen cabinets because I had 12 dinner guests from my neighborhood bunco group arriving in 2 minutes. When I texted my mom this picture, she said – “See, look! You are creative, Heather!”20131030-142809.jpg

But back to my original question – of what keeps me from creativity? Fear of mess is an obvious one, but that really isn’t the main obstacle. Brown speaks about creativity’s opposite as depression. And quite frankly, I think that depression can cause lack of creativity just as much as lack of creativity can cause depression. One is a symptom of the other. The motherhood season between 18-month-old and two-and-a-half year old twin girls was not my favorite. Along with living what felt like a depressed version of myself, there was an accompanying lack of creativity. Survival seemed to be all I could do day-in and day-out, trying to muster up enough energy to make it till naptime was my daily goal. Creativity? Forget it! I couldn’t even “creatively” choose anything besides the same exact lunch every day.

Yet slowly, surely, quietly, step-by-step, God brought me out of that hard season. And as depression dissipated, I noticed the resurgence of creativity. In small ways, like being spontaneous instead of needing to plan every minute of every day, and in returning to life-giving creative pursuits. For me, highest on that list is writing. And so I began to blog regularly, starting with my personal June challenge of daily blogging inspired by Grethen Rubin’s The Happiness Project. As I wrote more, I began to notice and savor life and those I love more. And then I had more to write about, and on and on it goes …

The one thing that still can threaten my creativity is what Brown identifies as the trap of comparison. When we begin comparing to others, we cease creating. I feel either false pride in being “better than” or (way more often) paralyzed by my perception of another’s creativity as much more inspired/better/talented than mine. Take this small example of doing a group craft project at a friend’s house a few weeks ago. We were painting wooden spoons, using painting tape to make stripes/etc. Overall, I had a great time. Making art is fun; getting to chat with other friends while doing so – even better. But then the insidious lie of comparison crept into my head. I looked at the other spoons and concluded that theirs were better – more creative – more beautiful. Mine just seemed so … plain. 

How ironic that is was the day after, in my “post-comparison hangover,” that I first read these words that Brown wrote in reflecting on how creativity slowly dissipated in her home as her parents shifted focus from living to acquiring:

My parents were launched on the accomplishments and acquisitions track, and creativity gave way to that stifling combination of fitting in and being better than, also known as comparison.

I’ll close here for today, as a poignant reminder to us that begs the question: am I focused more on fitting in with others or creating as an outflow of who I am, where I am?

why a self-described non-crafty mom needs creativity

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 8 Comments

“I just am not a craft-type mom.” I’ve said this many times, so many times that I actually believe it and actively avoid most art projects with my preschoolers (at home). But in reading Brene Brown’s book The Gifts of Imperfection, I was confronted with my suppressed creativity and my need to rediscover the creative side of my life as part of who I am. You see, I have been described as “creative” for most of my life, until about 10 years ago when I started seminary (no coincidence, I’m sure … ha!). I always loved our weekly art class in elementary and middle school, so much so that I chose to take a few years of art in high school as electives. All throughout growing up, I was usually cultivating some sort of project, whether a school project or one of my own making – like the time I bought a book on how to draw flowers and practiced all summer, or the scrapbook I made of important people and newspaper clippings as a 4th grader. [interesting to look back on these and read them!] Part of the appeal of my undergraduate elementary education degree was the opportunity to put creativity into practice with teaching children how to learn. Not to mention how many fun projects I got to work on (like preparing a unit on how to teach 4th graders about the rainforest) while my fellow college students labored in their organic chem labs and philosophy term papers.

But then I graduated from college, worked as a teacher, and lost some creativity amidst the work that it was to teach and to pay bills and to manage relationships. And then I went to seminary for a counseling degree, and creativity was further suppressed by deep thoughts on theology and the brokenness of our world and relationships. But it shouldn’t have been. Because this is exactly where creativity is most needed: at the intersection of God’s beauty and the world’s brokenness. How else do we bridge that gap without some redemptive creativity? How else can we image our Creator, who made light out of darkness and brought order and beauty from chaos?  I certainly had glimpses of this, through a few professors who creatively taught instead of rotely lectured; and in my “counseling children” course where we learned creative methods (even play) as a way to unlock a child’s emotions and thought life.

Personally though, I seemed to put creativity on the back burner once I became a mom to twins. Survival was the name of each hour of each day for the first six months especially, and probably up until the past six months (they are three years old now). I just didn’t have time. And then the MESS of getting my kids involved in creative pursuits? No, thank you. I was already sweeping up daily and spending more time than I wanted to in household chores. Add cleaning up paint or glitter or glue to this? I don’t think so.

Enter these words I read today:

‘I’m not the creative type ‘ doesn’t work. There’s no such thing as creative people and non-creative people. There are only people who use their creativity and people who don’t. Unused creativity doesn’t just disappear. It lives within us until it’s expressed, neglected to death, or suffocated by resentment and fear.

There will be more on this topic. Let’s call today “part 1 of Heather’s rediscovery of creativity.” Part 2 to follow. After I go do something creative … any suggestions? What do you enjoy as a creative pursuit?

finding words for my story

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 2 Comments

In my work as a counselor, the first place I start is in helping others find words for their story. Their story is there – they have lived it, the soul-shattering moments and the glory-filled ones alike, and yet finding words for their story can be hard. Not simply because it’s hard to speak of what you’ve never spoken out loud before, but also because you may not have the words to describe it. And so I will often suggest that they read something – the Psalms, for instance; or a book or memoir or a blog – to begin to find words for their story. I include these questions as prompts:

What stands out to you? What resonates with you? What do you say, “oh yes! That’s me!” about? Underline it; write that out; and begin telling your story.

In this month where I’m finding it hard to find words for my story (not because it’s difficult or painful, but it’s just busy and quite seemingly ordinary), I turned to a few favorite blogs this morning. And what I found put words to what I’m experiencing. My story of today. Enjoy …

Both are from Emily Freeman at “chatting at the sky,” my #1 favorite blogger and writer these days because of her grace-infused artful words.

First, from her post “one word that is sabotaging the art you live“:

But I’m just tucking them in to bed, you say.

I’m just cleaning the room.

I’m just filing the papers.

I’m just balancing the checkbook.

I’m just driving the carpool. None of this feels sacred to you.

Did you see the killer there?

Pay attention to when  you use the word just. Because whatever comes after that word is usually where you’re allowing the art to die.

Resist the urge to disrespect a task because it doesn’t feel important.

And in “the kind of movement that makes a difference“:

Rather than resenting my weakness, I believe Jesus is asking me to embrace my weakness. Being poor in spirit doesn’t mean despising self but releasing self from the expectation of being anything but poor. Small. Helpless. Worn.

My soul needs to remember the kind of movement that will make a difference:

Don’t try to handle your anxiety. Bring your anxiety into the presence of Christ.

Don’t try to fix your loneliness. Bring your loneliness into the presence of Christ.

Don’t try to hide your addiction. Bring your addiction into the presence of Christ.

Don’t try to change your attitude. Bring your attitude into the presence of Christ.

Don’t despise your humanity. Bring your humanity into the presence of Christ.

There is still responsibility, there is still action that comes from me. But my action is not to make right, to make whole, or to make better. My action is to usher my abilities, inabilities, failures and successes all into the presence of Christ.

Somehow, all of this weaves into what I’m living and learning right now as we study Romans together in our women’s Bible study and as we delve into gospel & community in our community group and as I counsel and write and tuck into bed and calm down tantrums in the in-between moments.