It Is Good

Life is good. The phrase kept clanging around my head today. At first it seemed like an appropriate little status update. A bit of cheer in the middle of a May downpour. But I'm growing into a wary Facebooker. I've been burned before by sharing a blurb of how I'm feeling. Leadership roles have a way of making you think before you push "post" or the "like" button. Surely not without fault, but my words and clicks now go through a rigorous filtering process: How will this be perceived? Does this represent who I am, what I am truly about, or do I just want attention? Could this post/comment/"like" hurt someone's feelings? Is this sensitive, compassionate, thoughtful of others? Is this the kind of material I'd want to see/read as I scroll through Facebook/Instagram? Have I thought about this too much? Yes...well then, forget it.

So I held back. Kept my simple "Life is good" to myself and continued on with my day. It's a ridiculous statement considering there are people I know and love for whom life is a struggle. A monsoon. Life is scary, defeating, depressing, stressful. There are days, too numerous to count, where I myself have felt life defined by nothing much more than a weight of responsibilities and a space and time to disappoint others. How can life be good in the midst of that kind of pain? Life is good? Ha!

and yet -

I choose to believe: Life is good because it was and is and will forever be created by the Creator. And God IS good all the time.

God's goodness takes the hurt, in ways beautifully mysterious yet sometimes too slow by my timer, and chooses to create beauty. Life is good because all of that yuck isn't just wasted. It can be redeemed by Jesus Christ the Redeemer. Life is good because, when we least expect it, the Holy Spirit surprises us with joy, washes over us with the refreshment of freedom, and brings Light in the middle of a dark night.

May the God of all life, all love, all goodness, bring hope to you no matter the rain.

My First Seven

If I can hold out until midnight - I've done it! Thirty-one days eating only 7 foods. Kind of.

Based on the book Seven by Jen Hatmaker, my 7 foods adventure has been a challenge. They say it takes 30 days to break a habit and it's day 31- but believe me - I'm still craving all the things I let go of for the month. Let me me back up a bit and give a little backstory. Seven was a book given to me last year. I loved it. Really loved it. Seven celebrates the ideas of simplicity, reduction, awareness, intentionality, creating space, and valuing relationships. The author tackled these topics with action steps which she described this way, "7 will be an exercise in simplicity with one goal: to create space for God's kingdom to break through." I love action. Thinking and critiquing are important life skills, but give me action any day! So as soon as I finished the book I did…nothing. A bit paralyzed at where to start on my own 7 adventure, instead I entered the fall, fell into the holidays, and found myself in a pit of yuckiness by the time it was New Years Eve. I had let two really important healthy habits go - work outs and eating right.

Since the Thanksgiving vacation to Oahu hadn't spurned any healthy habits, (One might think a week in paradise sporting little more than a bathing suit with our closest friends would have gotten me off my rear. One would be wrong.) I was holding on to a glimmer of hope that arrival of 2014 would be the real start of a change. Some action. So by the grace of God and the fact that none of my pants wanted to button anymore - I made a decision. Really this is the hardest part for me. Making a choice. Once made and accountability put in place…I can do the thing.

So let me explain "the thing." In the book Seven, Mrs. Hatmaker chose only 7 foods to eat for the month. She was strict and her 7 makes my 7 look like a joke. But action has to start somewhere and I'm not apologizing for what I chose to do on my own 7 adventure. We both came to some similar conclusions - focusing on only eating 7 things for a month makes you think about: what you consume (and what you don't), it has you thanking God and crying out to Him, you end the month hungry. Hungry for more of what God has in store…and possibly wanting a homemade chocolate chip cookie.

Here's what I ate for the month:
Oatmeal (no toppings)
Shakeology - protein/vitamin-rich chocolate powder you mix with milk
Chicken (prepared/marinated anyway except breaded or deep-fried)
Apples
Non-Fat Plain Greek Yogurt
Rice
Veggies (Yes, ANY veggie, so here you see my "7"gets a bit wonky.) I did not eat potatoes - although until this month I would have considered them a veggie.

I did not suffer. It was a healthy, delicious, taste sensational month. I seasoned my chicken, veggies, and rice as desired. It was flavorful and provided enough variety that I wasn't dreading the next meal. With just these simple foods I could usually find food to eat at any restaurant. I still drank coffee. Coffee is a drink not a food. However, I stuck to coffee, tea, milk, and water only. Juices were a no-no.  My diet was almost gluten-free - I'm so much less bloated! Sorry if that's TMI…but seriously, I feel BETTER. Maybe that GF hubbub is right after all. My added sugar intake is waaaay down. I ate a healthy breakfast almost every morning instead of relying on a latte to get me through the day. I ate salads, took carrots and cucumbers to work as snacks, and sautéed up veggies for almost every dinner. Seriously…this is mind-bending stuff.

I had two accountability partners, my friend who gave me Seven and the woman who recommended it to her. Both women work with me - so I saw them weekly and it helped to know that they were cheering me on. Initially I kept the 7 adventure a secret from my family. My choice was just that - MY choice and something I really wanted to be between me and God. Perhaps you have a gentler, less-judgemental family than mine. But for me, one of my goals was to see how long I could go without having to give them the whole scoop. The answer: 15 days. But I made it through a wedding reception with two cakes on day 1, and they didn't notice - so I win. I also win because I did not let the "law" become more important than relationship. On day 25 I took a friend out to dinner for her birthday. The restaurant did not serve chicken or rice. I had a moment of panic and then just confessed the situation to my friend. The veggies were deep fried. The food was delicious. I ate. We laughed, and I valued the experience more than my rules.

This adventure has jumpstarted my body, mind, and spirit. Food is such a central piece of American life. It's been said we live to eat instead of eating to live. I think that somewhere there is a balance. God created taste-buds! But this month has given me greater perspective on how I want to treat food. I've come to appreciate what it feels like to reduce gluten in my diet and eat more veggies. I want to eliminate eating strictly for comfort. God provides. It's an abundance beyond my needs. The 7 adventure has opened my eyes to the ways I usually take this abundance for granted. I end this month with gratitude and ready for the second 7.

Merry Christmas Card

After only 90+ minutes…which was only an hour longer than I wanted to spend - the Christmas card is ordered and on it's way.

When Typhoons Get Personal

A week or so ago we received our latest letter (dated August 29) from Avie, the 16-year-old my daughter Brynn sponsors through Compassion. Here's a snippet of what she said:

"A blessed day! Mama Michelle, thank you for the letter you sent. And thank you also for the stickers you have given I will use to decorate in my notebook. (She loves Hello Kitty - and Brynn bought her an entire book full of stickers which we include page by page with each letter.) I really miss you too and Brynn. Yes! Mama Michelle I will tell to my Grandmother that you continually praying for her. I know that she will love to hear that from you. Thank you that you always pray fro my mother and siblings also for the unity of my family."

Back in 2010 Brynn and I went to the Philippines  - we met Avie and her grandmother. We spent just one full day with this sweet girl. My heart was ripped open by my experiences with Avie and with the 100's of other children we had the chance to interact with during the 10-day trip. These just aren't faceless masses, Twitter updates, or CNN news videos. They are people I love. Today I'm praying they are safe, dry, and have food. I trust God and the work of the local churches and the Compassion projects to bring healing and hope to Avie and her family and the thousands of other children enrolled in Compassion. But oh how I wish I could hug my sweet Avie today.

See God: Reflections on Summer Sunday School

Originally published as my pastoral quarterly report (boy that sounds official) in our church newsletter - this article says a lot about what God's been teaching me this summer. I still have much to learn and put into practice.
- Michelle

Although my area of responsibility includes families and women’s ministries here at NFC, summertime is predominately about kids. Programs such as 3M (Monthly Marriage Maintenance) and Women’s Bible Fellowship take a break and I enjoy a summer focused mainly on the younger members of our congregation. Sometimes this is a great thing—but a few Sundays ago I found myself staring blankly into the eyes of a third grader.

I fancy myself a pretty good Sunday school teacher, but this particular morning my plans were being tested in every way, and I felt sorely lacking in “child-management skills.” As I tried to get the group of 11 kindergarten through 5th graders to pay attention to the Bible lesson, it was clear this was not going to “work” the way I had imagined. The wiggly kids were set on “extra wiggle.” The child who “doesn’t like Sunday school” let it be known to the entire class and me in a loud voice as I instructed them all to turn to 2 Chronicles. He then proceeded to put himself in a trash can, much to the class’s delight. The tired one sprawled out on the carpet, put his Bible over his face and proclaimed “it’s dark in here.” Another ripped some pages in the borrowed Bible while flipping back and forth trying to find the New Testament. The girls and boys chatted and giggled while I plunged deeper into the lesson, determined to get through the curriculum I’d prepared. A volunteer helped by taking two of the most disruptive children in the hall, leaving only 9 kids for me and a second volunteer to reign in.

Somehow I made it through that lesson, and we regrouped outside. The game I created on the spot went surprisingly well. We made a circle and threw the red ball to a friend while saying a characteristic of love. We threw the white ball after naming a quality of God. They paid attention and rattled off some great things about who God is and what love means. The game came to an end; snack was about to be served. I glanced at my watch. If open worship didn’t go too long we might have only about 5-10 minutes left of class. I took a deep breath. I knew there was no way the majority of the class would go back in and do the worksheet…even if it could be cut, folded, and stapled into a little book about God and his totally awesome love.

And then—the question I’ve never been asked by a child: “What is it like to teach Sunday school to kids?” I paused the most pregnant of pauses—and looked into her wondering hope-filled eyes. For a moment I couldn’t think of anything to say. I finally stumbled over something about it being fun, except when it’s difficult. Snack was ending and it was time to get the crew back inside. Her excellent question got lost in the shuffle, but my heart was cracked open by its convicting Holy Spirit power. How could I not think of anything meaningful or loving to say? Me—the children’s pastor who tries endlessly to get others to join this important ministry with children—so lost in my own plans for the morning that I forgot it’s about God, it’s about being there for these kids and listening to them.

Why doesn’t he like Sunday school/church? Why are they so tired? What is so funny? What stories do they have to tell? How might the new toy I set out at the beginning of class be used to capture their attention during the lesson? Why didn’t I just do class outside from the beginning? Why would a child want to know what it’s like to be a Sunday school teacher? What did she need to hear to feel affirmed? What moment did I miss by being so caught up in my “ministry plan”?

If I had that moment again I’d tell her: “Teaching Sunday school is one of the most humbling, joyful, frustrating, entertaining, silly, and important things I am honored to do.” I’d let her know I love her being in class and how she brings me so much joy with her thoughtfulness. I love her questions and I appreciate her kindness. I see the Holy Spirit at work in her life and in the words that come from her mouth. I’d also share with her that I see God in the trash can, rolling around on the floor. I see God in the children desperate to get back to the building toy so they can be creative and successful. I see God in giggles and whispers, in the words of children and in their questions. I see God when I take time to pay attention.

When Forgiveness is a Sacrifice

I was prepping the kids worship folder last week and looked at the scripture passage our pastor was using for the message.
This part really caught me:

...and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. Ephesians 5:2

I started thinking about proclaiming forgiveness or telling God we hope to forgive as an offering or sacrifice to God. I believe sometimes we aren't ready to forgive and forgiveness is often a process. The truth is, in some of my deepest wounds, I haven't wanted to explore what it means to forgive or felt the desire to ask God to help me enter into the forgiveness process. I've simply pushed the issues to the recesses of my mind and carried on. This scripture helps me to see forgiveness not as something we do for the offender, not something we do for ourselves (as is often taught), but as something we do for GOD. 

Wow… as I'm following and honoring God, I offer forgiveness as a sacrifice. 

This is one for me to chew on a bit. I believe God doesn't just want me to say empty words (for that wouldn't be honoring to God or myself) and I believe God doesn't want me to proclaim something that isn't true…so how can I offer forgiveness as a sacrifice even if I don't want to do it? Isn't this a definition of sacrifice? - giving up, doing what we don't want to, laying down when we'd rather hold on, etc. Merriam-Webster defines sacrifice as: an act of offering to a deity something precious. That definition helps me remember the power I have within me to forgive, which comes from the Holy Spirit, is of eternal value. In essence we offer a holy piece of ourselves back to God. 

Today I realize that I need to face the journey of forgiveness for one reason (and I'm sure there will be other benefits along the way) - I want to love as Christ loved. I want to sacrifice my WHOLE self to God, and that means not holding back a piece just because, "I'm not ready." So apparently my sacrifice begins now. Sacrifice is painful, beautiful, exhausting, and ultimately fulfilling when done for God. I can trust that process based on prior experience with the Holy Spirit.

Defining Strength

When God wants you to think about something, He allows multiple opportunities and perspectives to fill your head. I'm beginning to get a headache. It's heavy in there.

 A beautiful day at the Oregon coast. The crosses were a fun discovery!

On our recent our mini-vacation, I woke up, made breakfast, and sat down with a warm mug of coffee. I want a life defined by the health of my closest relationships. My strength lies not in what I can or cannot achieve, but in my dependence on God to order my days and embrace sabbath.

Besides engaging in a few conversations with my family and friends, a walk on the beach, and packing up to head home, I was about as unproductive as this mama can get. Strength? Maybe this is stretching it a bit, but I honestly believe the days set aside to relax, renew, and just enjoy life, build strength. In our culture being successful (strong) often means working hard, being irreplaceable, and multi-tasking. I've bought into those lies more times that I'd like to admit. The truth is - giving time and attention to my family and friends matters. This year I've struggled to create space in my life to be with and actually have friends. 

After the Boston Marathon bombing happened and the terrible explosion in West, Texas, the good ole USA was in shock. Our sense of safety was rocked as the unspoken vow we have with one another was literally blow apart...again. For all the fear that we have in this country, we're also a nation that tries to trust one another. We value life. When the bombs go off or the factory erupts, where's the strength? As Di Murphy pointed out to us as Women's Bible Fellowship, strength was found in the actions of the first responders on the scene - running toward the explosion. We continue to build those muscles when we help our neighbor. Our cites are full of people who feel vulnerable, afraid, and angry. Prayer matters. We are strong when we decide to accept our brokenness but won't be overcome by evil. We are strong when we love. We are strong when we choose Trust again.

During the week I met individually with four women who epitomize what it means to be physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually strong... even if they don't always see it this way. These women face a vast array of daily challenges. They are living proof of how reliance on God turns ashes into beauty.

Friday morning, April 19, I sat glued to the TV. SWAT teams, police cars, and a frenzy of media activity displayed another kind of strength: money, technology, information, and deadly force. We live in a country where if you want to "call in the big dogs," our dogs are HUGE. By Friday night the manhunt was over, thanks to the work of hundreds of people in dozens of law enforcement agencies and the general public working together. This kind of strength makes some of us cheer and some of us cry. I feel stuck in the middle, grateful that we have the power to capture "bad guys" and sometimes conflicted by the priorities and processes in which we do so.

 "God's Great Dance Floor!"

At the end of the week our family joined thousands of Believers at the Chris Tomlin concert. The Rose Garden Arena transformed into a sanctuary and we worshiped together for three hours. I stood hands held high and dancing with as much enthusiasm as possible in the twelve inches of space in front of my chair. The strength of the Holy Spirit filled me with gratitude. Tears streamed down my face as I joined the congregation singing about God's faithfulness. Yes, God is so completely and totally faithful! (You can't be "kinda faithful.") The tears continued as I stood behind my two daughters and my loving husband and I was reminded of my own failings. God's conviction and mercy overwhelmed me. My voice became a mere whisper as I stood in the embrace of Christ. Wrapped in love, secure in forgiveness. We celebrated. I lifted my arms above my head, they felt weightless.

It's taken five days to write this post. I'm realizing that no amount of writing and editing will capture completely what I noticed last week. There's frustration over how long it's taken me to simply say some things that I thought were simple and now feel like a big jumble. But before I give up and push "publish" I'm going to give it one last hurrah and fumble through my definition of strength.

Church inspires me. Sitting in the pew, listening to the sermon, scribbling down my thoughts, asking questions, taking notes, making to do lists. This is how I worship; this is how I work. Last Sunday I came home with this on my worship sheet:

If you can't read the chicken scratch, it says, "Changing what it means to be strong." From this one phrase boxed with a little arrow pointing to "Eternal Life." I came home with a desire to use many of the examples Gregg gave about "power coming through sacrifice and surrender" to redefine strength. The world tells me that being strong means being stoic in the midst of pain, using muscle and power to get my way, and to strive for independence and self-sufficiency. If a woman holds back her tears - she is strong. If a teenager uses his karate skills to cut down a bully, he is strong. If a family doesn't need to borrow or beg from the community they are strong. Perhaps these examples hold a measure of truth, but I believe Jesus turns these definitions upside-down in the Kingdom.

When we come undone, let it all hang-out, ball like a baby, and expose our most tender self to others, to God - we are strong. It takes strength to be vulnerable, open to attack, comparison, or ridicule. It also opens the doors to healing, help, and the power of the Holy Spirit. So I say let the cleansing messy tears flow. Allow pain to be present knowing it is temporary. Eternal life starts now and there is nothing stronger than resurrection power.

If we use physical strength to solve problems, have we really solved them? Reading the Old Testament I'm confronted with issues that are ongoing today. Fights for territory, power, control. People want to be right, to stand up for what they believe in, and to subdue "the other." For thousands of years humans have used muscles and might to dominate. Jesus shows us another way. A stronger way... submission, sacrifice. With Christ we suffer, in Christ we live.


If I don't need you and you don't need me, how do we love? Created to live in community, we deny the core of who we are when we choose separation and independence. Cheesy metaphor alert: If we compare humanity to a machine - that machine runs best when all of it's parts are properly maintained and filled with fuel. God is the master mechanic, and love is the fuel. You know...the power of love. Cue Huey Lewis. In perhaps the greatest mystery of all, love brings life. Jesus conquered the grave through love. To truly love is to serve and be served. I remember seeing this popular license plate in the 90's: He who dies with the most toys wins. How different life is in the Kingdom. If we dare to enter into eternity now, we choose life in community in which what is mine is yours, because it's not really mine in the first place. In the body of Christ we'll let each other know when we need help. We'll share our "toys." We will see love at work in one other and we'll use that power to define strength.