Thoughtful About . . . Tearing Down

Thoughtful About . . . Tearing Down

by | May 9, 2019 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I’m never sure how to explain how thoughts coalesce in my brain. Usually, it’s topics that keep coming at me from different angles. In this case, those angles are various discussions we’ve had lately at church, with fellow authors about topics in books, and also about some reactions and “demands” authors have been getting about their books.

I’ve written plenty on here in the last year about the “outrage” culture, and this is part of that. But where it concerns me most is where it’s found a home within the church–and not just in recent years. This aspect has, I think, been a part of us for a long, long time. That when we latch on to a belief or a point of view, so often we feel that in order to uphold that, we must tear down the other. 

An example from history (into the present) is the ongoing tension between Catholic and Protestant. These groups have found ways to disdain, persecute, vilify, and tear each other down for centuries. And it never ceases to sadden me. There are things on which the two sides don’t agree, yes. Sometimes those are big things. But what is achieved by arguing about it, pointing fingers, and accusing each other of not being Christian because we don’t agree?

Another example is that there’s a movement I just became aware of that is claiming (not for the first time in history) that the church and certain ministers and authors have been trying to keep them down. They’re getting in touch with authors and ministers and demanding apologies for the work that “hurt” them. They’re mounting smear and bad-review campaigns. They’re spending hours, days, months of their lives actively trying to tear down people that they’ve decided are their enemies. Within the Christian community. Why?
See, here’s the thing. Christianity is revolutionary. It always was. It always will be. It challenges us to leave behind the old, the assumptions, the religion-for-the-sake-of-it and embrace a Christ who says, “No, look deeper. Action isn’t enough–motivation matters too.” It is always new, always fresh, for each generation. But when each generation realizes that, they all to often assume they’re the first to do so. We forget sometimes that the insights we’ve come to were already realized before–countless times. We don’t understand that our mothers, our grandmothers, our great-grandmothers had quietly (or not so quietly) come to realizations of their own. We only see ours. And so we think it’s necessary to push this “new” thing out into the world so it can find its place.

But the world is already crowded with ideas, right? How do you find a place for yours? Well, if it’s a really good one, I think it will just find its home alongside other truths. But all too often, people decide they have to push it…which means pushing out something else. They have to tear down that other thing in order to build theirs. Progress, right?

When I hear of these sorts of movements, I’m always part angry and mostly sad. Because they don’t seem to realize that they’re tearing down their own foundations. You don’t have to agree with every teaching you’ve ever heard from someone or some group or some denomination. I know I don’t. But I’m also definitely not willing to say God wasn’t with them. That they didn’t believe. That they weren’t really of the faith. I’m not willing to say, “The work you spent a lifetime achieving is awful and deserves to be torn down.” I’m not willing to say God wasn’t in it.
Because if God was in it, even a little, even in just some of the details…who am I to tear it down? Do I honestly believe I have every detail right?
I know a lot of protestants who refuse to read the early church fathers’ writings because they deem them “Catholic.” Even though they were written a thousand years before there was a divide–in a time when “Catholic” literally just meant “the Church.” Though they’ve never read them, they usually have a lot to say about them, and about why they won’t read them. Things that tear down. Things that try to paint anything Catholic as bad, unchristian, misguided, weird, or downright evil.
But those are the very foundations of our church, the Protestant church, too. If you tear it down…where does that leave you? When you dig out the bedrock on which you’re built, how long can the house stay square?
The same is true of all these modern movements, both inside and outside of the church. How can we blissfully dig away at everything we disagree with, without thought to the consequences? When you tear at the fiber of something–churches, families, religions, politics, communities, cultures, countries–you know what you end up with? A lot of holes. A weakened fabric. Something ready to fall apart.
We’re never all going to agree. But you know what? Unity isn’t about agreeing on every detail. It’s about agreeing on what’s most important and deciding to value the stance of your neighbor in everything else. It’s about saying, “I want you to grow and be strong,” rather than, “I think you’re wrong.” And this goes not just for your neighbor in today’s world, but for your neighbor in history too. Those theologians we enjoy debating about–they were people who dedicated a lifetime to working for God too. When we tear apart their writings, what if we’re tearing apart something God inspired?
We’re all wrong about things. We’re all right about other things. Most of us are a pretty good mix of listening to God and listening to our own wants. But you know what I don’t ever want? For the Lord to say to me, “Why did you tear down the work I was doing with them over there? Don’t you think I’m big enough to work there with them and here with you?”
He’s so big, my friends. So big that He can’t be confined to one denomination or movement or culture or time period. He’s so big that He can work in different ways and show people different parts of His truth. We’re not that big–we can’t focus on it all. But that’s okay. You work where you’re called. I’ll work where I am. Each of us only needs to seek after Him. And when our paths cross and even clash, let’s not think we’re in competition for the Lord’s favor and we need to push each other aside to gain the prize. Let’s instead come alongside each other and cheer each other on.
Because never once did God tell us to tear each other down–certainly not fellow Christ-followers, but not even our enemies. He tells us to build each other up. To pray for our enemies and those who persecute us. And maybe it’s because of this:
If we spend all our time in demolition, we never actually build anything for Him. And so, at the end of our lives, what do we have to show for all our efforts but a pile of rubble?
Let’s build something together, friends. Let’s #BeBetter. Let’s focus less on where we disagree and more on the God who calls us all to Him.

Thoughtful About . . . The Wind

Thoughtful About . . . The Wind

by | May 2, 2019 | Thoughtful Thursdays

The sunrise down my driveway

We live in the mountains. Specifically, the Appalachians in West Virginia. Our home is nestled up against the side of one of these mountains, in a little bit of a valley. It’s wooded–the sort of area where it’s more remarkable to see open fields along this road than trees.

Ever since moving out here eight years ago, I’ve noticed the wind. Windy days (and nights) are nothing new. But only here have I ever had this particular experience–one I noticed again just last week.

When I’m outside on a windy day, I become keenly aware of the nature of those really big wind gusts. Because I can hear them coming. I’m talking 30 seconds before it arrives, I can hear this mighty whoosh from the north. I can hear those mighty blasts of air traveling over the mountains, down the valleys. Shaking the trees, stirring the leaves.

A force of nature. Giving me warning.
This isn’t something I can hear from inside–safe in the comfort of my kitchen, I never know the gust are coming until I see them hit–see the limbs of the trees bending, the garden ornaments toppling, the tarps go flying.
But outside. When I’m there in it, I have time to react. Generally, there isn’t much I choose to do, other than turn my face to the north and wait for it to hit, so I can marvel at the power of it. But sometimes I’ll run to secure the laundry or to put down the sun umbrella, or I’ll just zip up my sweatshirt.
Wind is one of those invisible forces often used as an example of spiritual things, isn’t it? Something we can’t see but still experience–like God. And the Spirit is likened to a rushing wind, right?
But as I pondered this anticipation of wind, I realized something else about our Father. Something pretty amazing.
He doesn’t move without warning.
There’s a verse in the Old Testament about God never acting without first telling one of His prophets. But even the New Testament church, even today, I think the same thing is often the case. When God moves, it’s with preparation. He stirs His people first. He prepares them for what’s coming. He moves hearts and minds so that they’re ready.
Ready for when the gusts of His Spirit come. Ready for when mountains shake. Ready for when anything not tethered down goes flying.
But we don’t always hear His warnings, do we? When we’re safe inside our comfort zones, perhaps, we don’t even listen for them. We’re content to just sit there, right where we are, and watch Him move out there.
Lord, I don’t want to be sitting here inside my bubble when You move. I don’t want to be “safe” from the power of Your Spirit. I don’t want to just watch You stir others.
I want to be out there. In it. Turning my face to the north and waiting.
Waiting to experience Your power.

Thoughtful About . . . Happiness and Joy

Thoughtful About . . . Happiness and Joy

by | Apr 18, 2019 | Thoughtful Thursdays

This past week, my church’s Wednesday night Bible study just began Philippians. Well, we didn’t really get much into the book itself; we read the intro from someone’s Bible, which said that the book was all about JOY, which is only to be found in Christ, as opposed to HAPPINESS, which is earthly.

This is something I’ve heard and read and come across is various ways over the years, as I’m sure you all have too. It’s an understanding that seems fine, right? We know that true joy comes from the Lord. We know that it’s not the same as happiness. 
But my husband asked a question that led us into what I found to be a fabulous conversation: Does that meant that you can’t experience joy unless you’re a Christian?

As we talked through it, the first step was in identifying times that we would classify as experiencing joy rather than happiness. The things that bring us joy. And the examples–relationships, family, security–all seemed to have something in common in my mind. They’re all things that humanity as a whole can experience, yes. But they’re all things given by God, and which God uses as examples of what His love is like.

That, however, wasn’t an epiphany big enough to make me want to talk about it. ? What made me decide to write more about it was this thought:
Happiness is when we’re being acted upon in a favorable way.
Joy is when we act out our love.
I’ve long thought happiness was best defined as circumstantial. This gorgeous spring weather we’ve been having makes me happy. Dinner with friends makes me happy. Seeing a good sales report makes me happy.
See those keywords? Things make us happy. It’s a result of the outside world acting in a specific way, creating circumstances that we find pleasant, that creates in us a good feeling or emotion. Now, there’s nothing at all wrong with this! Happiness is something we should certainly appreciate when it comes our way!
But happiness is a feeling, and more, it’s a feeling that depends on the world around us. So when the circumstances change…well, our happiness does too. We don’t all feel happy every single day, do we? When we’re on the phone with customer support for hours, when we’re cleaning up messes from pets or kids or a storm, when we’re sick or suffering from depression or anxiety, when we’re looking at bills and knowing the account balance isn’t big enough–well, we certainly don’t feel happy.
When we read or hear about joy, though, we’re told that it’s something more, something beyond happiness, something that we ought to be feeling even when we’re not happy. 
Ever hear that and just want to huff out a breath and demand, “HOW?!”
For starters, I don’t think we’re classifying it right when we say we ought to feel joy. Feeling isn’t the primary aspect of it. We ought, perhaps, to know joy. We ought to have joy. But I think most of all, we ought to be joy, act joyous, and spread joy.
Because do you know what every single joyous thing has in common? They involve us doing, acting, being rather than being acted upon. Instead of circumstances, joy is reliant on choices.

We choose to love our families, even when the kids are disobedient, when we’re in a rough patch with our spouse, when our parents don’t understand us, when our loved ones are ill and dying. We CHOOSE. And we ACT.

When circumstances are all against us and we choose to sing a praise song to God, that is joy.
When the plates are empty and we thank God for them as an opportunity for Him to show up and provide, that is joy.
When what we’ve lost outweighs what we have, but we turn our faces upward and say, “It’s all yours, Lord, I know you’re holding us in your hand,” that is joy.
When the baby keeps us up all night, and in the face of exhaustion, we sing another lullaby and cuddle them close, that is joy.
When you give even though you don’t know if it’ll be used wisely, simply to show someone you care, that is joy.
When you reach out, even though you’d rather curl up in a ball and shut out the world, that is joy.
Joy doesn’t always feel good. But it is good. It’s acting out love and faith, clinging with both hands to the promises, despite all the shadows and trials and struggles and pain.
Happiness might be something we pursue, working hard to line up those circumstances as best we can. But joy is something we can choose moment by moment. And when we’re so tired, weak, and overwhelmed that we don’t know how to grasp it anymore, that’s when we can turn to Him and say, “Be my joy, Lord. I don’t have any left of my own.”
Can you know joy apart from the Lord? Some, yes. I think you can–like all of His gifts to humanity, it’s available, along with Truth and Wisdom and Knowledge. Just as the world displays the knowledge of Him if you care to look for it, so does it offer the opportunity for joy. But it’s harder to grasp without Him as our foundation. It’s harder to hold to. But then, it’s hard when we do know Him too.

The best things always are.

Thoughtful About . . . Speaking Foolishness – and Writing Your Story

Thoughtful About . . . Speaking Foolishness – and Writing Your Story

by | Apr 11, 2019 | Thoughtful Thursdays

After two weekends in a row away from home (which is when I’d usually have prepped blog posts), I’m still playing catch-up on the blog. So today, rather than just sharing my thoughts, I want to share some other people’s. =)
First is my husband, David. As I’m sure anyone who reads my posts can tell, we have a lot of awesome conversations. And they’re almost all begun by David–I’d usually be content to just sit there in my own little world, LOL. But David asks questions. David thinks things through (some might say too much, ha ha). David never assumes that the standard answer is the right one.
As the publisher at WhiteFire, he’s been doing a lot of thinking about stories and how they interact with the world. And I really love the articles he’s started writing. Two weeks ago, we launched the “From the Publisher’s Desk” blog at READ.WhiteFire-Publishing.com, and he talked about emotional counterfeiting (with a bonus review of the movie Unplanned). SUPER good thoughts about why some stories stay with us, resonate, and change us, and others…don’t.
Today he’s talking about how the things of Christ are foolishness to the world…and how as storytellers, we can use that to our advantage by creating wonder in the audience.  Here’s a snippet–do go read the whole thing, his thoughts are spot-on!
In the circles of Christian art (books, film, music, even
visual arts), we often hear talk about the purpose
of our work. Of how to make the end result positive. But what, exactly, does
that mean?  We tend to answer with things
like “to make sure God/Christ is glorified” through our art.  That’s a bit of a difficult standard, really,
when you think about it.  If the things
of God are foolishness to those outside the church, then glorifying God in a godly
way isn’t going to connect with the outay isn’t going to connect with the outside audience in a traditional way.  Meaning that logical arguments for the Gospel
message don’t make sense (all the time—there are of course,
exceptions), and worldly appeals to the gospel risk damaging the message
itself.  You also can’t connect with the
outside audience in the same way that you would with the church/Christian
audience.  We understand things
completely differently.
What that means, to me at least, is that we have to be aware
that we’re speaking foolishness to the outside world.  I know that scares some people. They want a
“clear presentation of the Gospel message.” 
But as storytellers it ought to thrill us.  Confusion and wonder are awesome tools in our tool bag (as long as you’re being
clear in the confusion you’re using – confused yet?)  There are cases of truly bad storytelling
where confusion brings the audience out of the story, but when done well it
makes the audience wonder why a
character did/said a thing. Read the Full Article
~*~

Are You Ready to Write Your Story?

And then, after you’ve read that, I wanted to share about a writers conference WhiteFire is sponsoring, which is founded by one of our new authors, Paula Wallace. Paula runs Bloom in the Dark, a non-profit organization with a television show whose purpose is to help those who’ve suffered from abuse, addiction, or other trauma to not just survive it–but to thrive with the help of the Lord.
The Writing from a Bleeding Heart Conference is geared specifically toward people who hear the Lord whispering Write your story but don’t know how to start. Even seasoned authors run into this–we know how to write other people’s stories, but how do we incorporate our stuff into it, or write a memoir or…? Writing can be an incredibly healing experience–but it’s also a challenge. If you feel that nudge on your spirit, though, it might be because God not only wants to heal you through the process, but because your story could help another of His precious children heal as well.
I get a lot of questions from my readers about this sort of thing, so I wanted to share the information on this conference. David and I will both be there, and I’ll be teaching some of the sessions (on the writing side of things). It promises to be a time of fellowship, education, encouragement, and healing! If it sounds like something you’d be interested in, please check out the website!
Writing from a Bleeding Heart Conference
June 26-29, 2019
Franklin, TN (just outside Nashville) 

Thoughtful About . . . The Magic

Thoughtful About . . . The Magic

by | Apr 4, 2019 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Well, I’m back from my writing retreat. My manuscript is complete. A weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And as it eased off, I couldn’t help but contemplate about this strange thing that is a creative’s mind. The doubts that always plague us.

This was the sixth year my best friend and I have gotten together like this–and we skipped one year when she had a newborn, so I took a mini retreat at my parents’ house while they were out of town. Seven years ought to have given me a pretty good indicator of what I can accomplish. And it has. I know that, when on retreat, I can write at least 10,000 words a day. I know that in four full days, 40K isn’t a big ask. I know that I can do this, because I’ve done it six times before.

Stephanie and I trying out the couch our first evening at the Airbnb
But this year, I had to do it. The manuscript I was working on was due two days after I got home. This wasn’t a matter of getting a good start or finishing up a book due next month. This was critical.
Which means the fears crept in. What if, I kept thinking, the magic doesn’t work this time?
Intellectually, of course, I knew it wasn’t magic. There’s no great mystery about how these retreats work. It isn’t that our fingers are always flying, that something happens beyond my comprehension. We have a lot of time when we’re just sitting, hands still on our keyboards, working it out in our minds. We don’t type any faster than usual. It isn’t mystical. It’s just plain ol’ hard work. Often fourteen hours of it (with breaks to eat, walk, do jumping jacks, etc.).

Where I spent most of my weekend–in a big leather armchair, looking out over the living room and kitchen
But something that is unique to a retreat is that I prepare for it. I warn people I’ll be away. I set up an out-of-office auto-responder on my email. I clear everything else off my desk–even the things that are kinda pressing. I give myself permission to work on nothing else.
Something about that and the dedicated time does seem to be a recipe for success. It isn’t “magic.” But it certainly feels it, as I’m sitting in a crowded, noisy airport and manage to tune it all out and just put words on the page–though at home, a mere “Good morning” can derail me for half an hour.
This year, when I needed the retreat more than I ever have before, I was also more productive-per-hour than I’ve ever been. In a 56-hour period, I wrote 33,251 words. Given that quite a few of those hours were spend sleeping, LOL, that’s really, really good for me. At the end of my day of travel, I had 6,000 words. Day 2 (first full day), I wrote 15K. And I went to bed that night thinking, “Okay, my worries were so silly. I can do this. I knew I could do this. But now I feel like I can do this.”

After my 15K day, I knew on Saturday that I’d probably finish my book that day–
which made the coffee at Groundhouse all the sweeter.
But this is pretty typical of us humans, isn’t it? Even when they shouldn’t, doubts plague us. Even when we know something in our heads, that doesn’t mean we get the message in our hearts. Our knowers can know, but our worriers still worry. Sometimes, that can paralyze us. As my deadline drew nearer and my to-list was a mile long with other time-sensitive tasks too, there were days at home when I just stared at the screen, fighting back the panic, not knowing what to do first.
There’s never a magic recipe for escaping that. But there’s something better. There’s hard work. And there’s the sure knowledge that even when we fail, God doesn’t. Even if we mess something up, He can make beauty from the ashes. It isn’t an excuse not to give things more-than-our-best and strive for excellence–it’s just knowing that when our strength fails, we can rely on His instead to help us achieve it.

We celebrated the end of the retreat with tacos

I thoroughly enjoyed my long weekend in Kansas City with my best friend. And I also chuckled at myself as I thought about the very different emotional state I was in a week before. Emotions change–hence motion in the word, right? But we can choose not to be ruled by them. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of putting in the hard work so that our feelings can catch up with our certainty.

Thoughtful About . . . The Word of God

Thoughtful About . . . The Word of God

by | Mar 21, 2019 | Thoughtful Thursdays

What does it mean when we call the Bible the infallible Word of God?
This is something my husband and I have been talking about from different angles lately. Something that will probably get some vehement reactions, LOL. But something I really think bears thinking about.

Here are a few phrases I’ve heard quite a lot:

All we need is the Bible
If it disagrees with the Bible, it’s wrong
The Bible is infallible
The Bible is the ultimate authority
The Bible is the inspired Word of God
The Bible was written by God, penned by man
On the surface, I agree with each and every one of these statements 100%. But I have to admit…the more conversations I hear where these statements are used as arguments, the more I sometimes think–and this is going to sound very strange, so bear with me–sometimes people make an idol of the Bible.
Okay, I know how that sounds. I do. But hear me out.
Before the Bible was written, did God speak to His people?
Yes.
When the Old Testament was codified but before Jesus came, was God still planning His means of salvation?
Yes.

After Jesus had come, but before the New Testament was put to parchment, did His Spirit speak to the Church?

Yes.
When what we today call the Bible was just a collection of letters, various versions and copies floating around, did God guide His church?
Yes.
When we find multiple manuscripts with slight discrepancies, is there still a Truth?
Yes.
Where does all that lie?
With God.
The Bible is an amazing gift that He’s given us. Inspired words, absolutely. But here’s the thing: God existed before the Bible. God was worshiped before the Bible. God provided salvation for us before those books we call the Gospel existed. The Church was built before those letters from Paul were written. People were living, day in and day out, serving Him and trusting Him and knowing they would join Him in Paradise…all before what we call the Bible was a thing.
For three hundred years, there was a New Testament church, yet there was no New Testament.

Do you see where I’m going with this? Our faith, our trust, our worship, our praise, does not lie in the Book. It lies with the Author.


God is SO…MUCH…BIGGER than those 66 books. Right? Just imagine how the Jews felt when Jesus began preaching His life-changing lessons. What He was basically claiming was that God was more than what they understand Him to be from the Law and the Prophets. He was more loving. He was more merciful. He was more concerned with heart than action. He was basically saying that the Old Testament understanding, while correct, wasn’t complete.
We today have more. We have the New Testament as well. And the understanding it gives us is correct…but is it complete? Can everything there is to know about God be summed up in those pages?
I hope you agree with this answer: Of course not! The pages themselves claim as much!
How could the God of gods, the King of kings, the Lord of lords, the Creator of the entire universe, ever be summed up in full by measly human words, right? We know He’s bigger. We know He’s more. We know that, yes, the Bible is God-inspired…but the Bible isn’t God. People can be Christians without the Bible in their hands, without having read it all. They can have a true, full faith.
Now, the Bible certainly helps! As I said, it’s one of the most amazing gifts He’s given humanity. And I believe that we need to be certain that teachings line up with Scripture, absolutely. Just like the NT needs to harmonize with OT, so do teachings that come after the Bible need to align with it.
But I don’t believe the Bible was even intended to be the sum total of what we read, what we think about, what we rely on, and what we base every decision upon. Why do I think that? Because the very heroes of the Bible didn’t have it! And they still did the things that earned them a place in the ultimate Story. Because they relied on Him. On His living Word.
I love that John calls Jesus the Word–He is the true Word of God, right? Not the books written about Him–the actual Man. Which is so, so important. Because the Bible is static–but He is eternal. The Bible is words, but He is flesh. Even in the Bible itself, He doesn’t promise us more writing to help us and give us the answers. He promises us the Spirit.
A lot of the people of Jesus’ day dismissed Him because they thought they needed nothing more than the Law and the Prophets. I pray that we today don’t dismiss things God is trying to do,  understanding He’s trying to give us because it’s not part of the canonized Bible. We argue with ideas that don’t agree with our understanding of the words He gave to Moses or Paul. We say if it’s not in the Bible, that it’s not worth knowing.
But what if it’s our understanding that’s faulty–incomplete? Just as theirs was in Jesus’ day?
This is what leads to a lot of tension between, for instance, religion and science. Because sometimes those of faith have a particular reading of the Bible that seems to disagree with what scientists have discovered. And sometimes those of science seem to have an axe to grind when it comes to faith.
But the Bible was never meant to be a scientific treaty. The Bible was meant to be a love story between God and man. It’s not about knowledge–the collection of facts. It’s about wisdom–how to apply knowledge to our lives and use it to guide our decisions, our morals, and our beliefs.

Sometimes, what we view to be tension is in fact just incomplete understanding. A few hundred years ago, most Christians could not accept that the sun was the center of the solar system–it disagreed with their fundamental understanding of God’s love for humanity, placing them at the center of His creation. Today, we don’t see this as a problem. Two hundred years ago, many Christians couldn’t accept the idea of “outer space” because it disagreed with their understanding of the “firmament” described in Genesis. Today, we don’t see this as a problem either. Who’s to say how wisdom will grow to accommodate knowledge in the next fifty or hundred years? But too often, we look to the Bible and say, “But it says…”

But here’s the thing: it says what it needs to say to tell the story of God’s love. It uses language that the people who wrote it could understand. It’s still relevant, it’s still True. But there can also still be more to the story. Because no words can express Him and His wonders. He can teach us more, and it does not negate what He said before. It tells us the how of the that He already whispered to us about, that’s all. It expands our vocabulary. But knowing more words to describe the phenomena never changes the basic facts of it, and of Who designed and orchestrated it. Knowing the words to describe the symphony changes nothing about how beautiful it is–it just gives us a means of discussing it.
My Bibles–and I have quite a collection of them, LOL–will always remain some of my most valued possessions, and the books I turn to daily. Something no other book can ever claim, to be sure. But I also love knowing that if those physical books pass away, if every last copy is destroyed, the Word of God will still stand. When it isn’t written on a page, it will still be written on our hearts. It’s more than my feeble understanding. It’s more than a collection of words on a page.
The true Word of God is my Savior, my Lord, my Jesus. I don’t worship the things He said. I worship Him. The Bible is my guide–but it is not my God.

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