visitors are people, too

Happy New Year.

I realize that it's been the new year for a while, but I haven't been here in a while, so this is my formal New Year's address to you.

Let me catch you up to speed:

A year ago I moved from KY to WI, then four months ago I tried moving back to KY but moved back to WI shortly thereafter. Now I have a good (non-church) job that gives me lots of chocolate to make me feel like a valuable (and diabetic) employee, and I'm living in my own (albeit lonely) place with my cat, who is sitting on my lap right now like the fluffy toasted marshmallow that she is.

Tomorrow is Sunday, and Sundays were, once upon a time, my busiest days. Full of coffee and bustling hallways and being on stage and meeting new people and avoiding the bulletins because it was too late to fix any mistakes and hustling from one side of the building to the other to make sure everything was running the way it was supposed to be running.

Now I'm sitting on my living room floor trying to decide which church to visit tomorrow, preparing myself once again to be another visitor at another new church. I'll get there early and sit in my car until it feels a little less early, then I'll take a deep breath and walk through the doors and smile and shake peoples' hands and find the auditorium and sit by myself and fill out an "I'm new here" card and observe what style of music they have and analyze the pastor's sermon and occasionally glance around the room to see what kind of people go here and if they are like me at all. And I'll simultaneously hope that they notice I'm new and that no one notices I'm new.

Has this ever been you?

It had never been me, till now, and suddenly I realize how very hard it is to be a visitor.

For example, I went to this church a few weeks ago where the pastor asked, "How many of you are Jesus-lovers in here today?"

My arms had been crossed around my middle and, as I saw out of the corner of my eye all these hands shooting up around me, I went to raise my hand, too. However, my ring got caught on my sweater and I tugged and tugged but it didn't unsnag, and before I could get it free the pastor had moved on and everyone lowered their hands and I had not proclaimed to be a Jesus-lover.

I felt judging eyes all over me. I was positive that someone in the back of the room had made a note on his little clipboard, "Girl in red sweater. Not a Jesus-lover. Talk to her after."

That same church sent me this card in the mail:

A few facts about this card:

1. It came 2 weeks after I'd visited their church.
2. I left before the service was over, so it's not probable that he talked to me at the "After Party."
3. I don't know what this "difficult time" is that he speaks of, but I will also be praying for whoever it is that is going through it. (Unless he's referring to me not loving Jesus, according to Clipboard Guy, in which case okay, pray for me if you want.)

Oh, how very important it is to feel welcomed and noticed and remembered.

If you're a church-attender and you've been at your church for 5 or 15 years, maybe try to step out of your comfort zone a little and greet someone new. They probably really want you to and really don't want you to at the same time. But they do want to feel welcomed, and noticed, and remembered. And your one little action can make all the difference.

If you're searching for a new church and feeling weary of the search, I feel you. I grow impatient for a place to call home. All I can say is enjoy the adventure and take advantage of the free stuff. I have so many copies of Andy Stanley's How Good Is Good Enough? I'm beginning to use them as coasters.

And if you're a church staffer and every weekend is the same ol' time to make the donuts, remember that people are walking in your doors to find a place to belong, and you can either offer it to them or make them feel like just another outsider of some cool clique. I get that it's hard to tell who's new sometimes, and you don't want to embarrass yourself by asking someone, "Are you new?" when they helped plant the church 25 years ago. But guess what: church isn't about you. So maybe risk some embarrassment and make people feel welcomed.

Also, make eye-contact. Nothing is more annoying than talking to a staff member who's scanning the halls for other people. SEE ME!

Okay I'm done now.

Here's this song to kick off the new year [two months late]:

saddle up your horses

“August is a transitioning month for Wisconsin,” the man at church said. He was standing in my office and I was looking out my window, telling him I was already beginning to smell fall.

No, no, no, no, no. It is not allowed to be winter yet. It hasn’t even really been summer yet! It is not allowed to be winter yet. Not yet. No.

No.

I’ve been mulling over his words the past couple of weeks, chewing on them like a cow on verbal cud. August is a transitioning month. My teacher friends are starting work again. My school-aged friends are starting school again. The kids who are still 11 in my mind are posting pictures on Facebook of their college orientations. How did they become college students?

The past six months I’ve been living with my parents in the village of Glenbeulah, Wisconsin, population 463. Since I’ve been here they’ve opened this promising new establishment:

Good ol' Rusty's Oil & Tire (great name for an auto place). I walk past it sometimes with my finger on 911’s speed dial in case someone reaches out of the door and tries to snatch me.

I’ve also gotten to spend time with this family:

Aren’t they lovely? I gave my niece Annabelle her first swimming (AKA “kick the water like you’re a mermaid”) lesson and have already taught her how to blow raspberries and give zerbers and copy everything everyone says like an annoying echo. Emmalynn is still a little young to learn bad habits, but I’m working on it. I have a nephew on the way, too. I want them to name him JohnMcClane (no spaces or hyphens) but they probably won’t.

Over the past few months I’ve also learned a bit about myself:

1) I can eat ice cream for dinner many consecutive days before I feel convicted about it.

2) I hate mosquitoes so passionately I am willing to torch an entire community because sometimes lives must be lost in order to protect future lives.

3) My ability to make rational decisions diminishes incrementally the longer I go without seeing the sun.

3a) My gummy vitamin intake increases radically the longer I go without seeing the sun.

4) I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

I'll be 27 in September, and sometimes I envy my friends. You know, the ones who have homes and stable jobs and spouses and children and matching mugs and furniture and cars that have airbags and at least an idea of what the next few years of their lives will look like.

I have no idea what the next few years of my life will look like. I think this is fairly common for 20-somethings. I can't tell you how many 20-something friends I know who have moved back home to live with their parents after a turn of events. God bless parents who welcome back their 20-somethings with grace and spare rooms. And to my 20-something friends who are still trying to figure out their lives: Be encouraged! You are not alone.

Sometimes I think that instead of asking kids what they want to "be" when they grow up, we should ask them what they love. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. But I know I love the church. I know I love words. I know I love people. I know I love Jesus.

Later, as Jesus left the town, he saw a tax collector named Levi sitting at his tax collector’s booth. “Follow me and be my disciple,” Jesus said to him. So Levi got up, left everything, and followed him. – Luke 5:27-28 NLT

When people ask me what my plans are or what my goal is, I don't know. I'm pretty sure Levi couldn't have answered that either when he left everything. He probably would've said, "I'm just following Jesus."

That's the only real goal I have, too.

And that's when I don't mind so much that none of my mugs have a theme and the only furniture I own is what my dad has picked out of other people’s trash. That's when I'm okay with moving, picking up and leaving, and trying something new, because with my God, I can do anything. I can go anywhere, lose everything, start over, face any situation, any challenge, with my God.

My God is my companion, and He is my partner. And I'll go with Him wherever.

Which makes it difficult, sometimes, when I have things in my life I don’t want to leave. Like my family. And a good job at a church. And good relationships and friendships. I start to question what it really means to follow Jesus. If God isn’t really making it clear where He wants me in the future, wouldn’t it be okay if I just made my own future? Isn’t our main goal in life to bring glory to God? Does it really matter how we bring glory to God?

Have you ever felt a tug, a pull, a nudge, a thought, a desire, that you just can't shake? Like that one birthday candle you just can't blow out, and it keeps burning and reigniting no matter how much slobber you spray on it? My desire to be in the church is like that slobbery, stubborn birthday candle. I try to make up different futures for myself but they never ignite like when I think about being in the church. 

“Your greatest fulfillment in life will come when you discover your unique gifts and abilities and use them to edify others and glorify the LORD." - Neil T. Anderson

I have never felt quite as much like I am doing what God has created me to do than when I am emptying myself into the local church. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried.

So, in keeping with August’s theme of transitions, I’m transitioning, too. I'm moving back to beautiful Kentucky, to the great city of Louisville, to intern in the communications department of Sojourn Community Church. I will get to write. I will get attend their leadership school. I will get to be a part of creative planning. I will get to attend workshops and conferences. I will get to further develop my unique gifts and abilities in order to edify others and glorify the Lord.

Burn, little slobber candle, burn.

This is where I need your help.

The internship is unpaid, which means I will have to raise support and find a part-time job. Because of some generous people in my life, I'll only have to raise $6,000 for the next year of my internship. If 60 people gave $100, that'd cover the whole shebang!

I've never had to raise money before. I don't like asking for money. I don't know anybody who really does. It makes me feel uncomfortable...and weird. But I do need your help. I can't do this on my own. I'm so thankful for those of you who have already given, in more ways than one. Your generosity and thoughtfulness humbles me.

To join in supporting me financially, click here. 

I would also love your support through prayers and encouragement. Your words mean so much to me!

All of that being said, I'm so, so grateful for this opportunity to serve the people of Louisville with such a wonderful church. I will keep y'all updated!

ONLY TEN MORE DAYS.

I wish hair like this was still in style:

hey, Church...listen.

We switched over the way sermons are uploaded onto the church website a couple of months ago. I had to create new usernames and passwords, and one Sunday between services I walked one of the sound guys through the new procedure.

"Go here," I pointed, "and type in the username, 'Production Team.'"

"Wow," he said, "you make us sound important."

I blinked. "You are important," I said. I then resisted the urge to grab him by the shoulders, look him in the eye with tears in my eyes, and say, "Do you understand?"

Who decides who's important?

Is the worship leader the important one? Because the people who control the mix of the band and who put up the lyrics of the songs are just as key to leading worship through music as the guy playing the guitar up front.

Is the speaker the important one? Because the people who get up early to make good coffee and greet me with smiles and make me feel welcomed speak a message to me long before I get to the actual sermon.

Is the graphics guy the important one? The video gal? The one who prints the bulletin? Because more people come to church through the invite of a friend than through the snazziest, classiest, coolest promotion.

I've done a lot of different things in the church. I've manned the projector when the songs were on transparencies. I've folded a lot of bulletins. I've led small groups and been in small groups and written for small groups. I've been up front, I've been way in the back, I've been on the stage, I've been behind the scenes, I've picked up trash, I've come in early and stayed late, I've sung and I've listened, I've been paid and I've volunteered and I've not volunteered but been forced to do things anyway because my dad's a church-planting pastor.

I have yet to find one job in the church that is more important than another. One position that is more important. One person who is the most important.

My friends who lead and volunteer in their missional communities are important. My friends who are on staff at mega churches are important. My friends who work secular jobs but generously give and show Jesus' love to their coworkers are important. Know why?

BECAUSE YOU ARE THE CHURCH.

I don't care what you do or where you do it. You are the Church. I don't care if you're in your office cubicle or preaching a sermon from a stage. The building doesn't make someone or some task important. The fact that you carry the Holy Spirit around with you wherever you go and can be a living, breathing example of a God who lives and breathes as well...that's pretty important.

I love the local church that gathers together on weekends, but that is not the definition of the Church, and who does what in those corporate gatherings on the weekend does not determine importance.

You are the Church.

You, you, you.

And you are important.

the ten lepers & me

This is a picture I have hanging above my computer, as a reminder.

Those are my feet. They were sticking out of a car window last May.

Six weeks earlier, they were propped up on my chair while I lay on the floor next to my desk. Easter weekend was over. Our three services of the morning had just concluded, which had followed a Saturday night service which had followed a Saturday Easter festival which had followed a Good Friday service.

My back hurt.

In the other room, a couple of pastors were gathering their things to head home. Without mentioning the past 48 hours, they began talking about the message series starting next weekend.

I stared at the ceiling.

The biggest, longest, greatest, most exciting, and most exhausting weekend of the year had hardly finished before we were already discussing next weekend.

No time to bask in the joy of what had just happened in our community and church.

No time to rest from the hours and hours and hours of work that went into setting the stage for it to happen.

In Luke 17, Jesus heals ten people who have leprosy. Every single one of them walks away but one. One man who was healed of leprosy comes back and thanks Jesus for healing him.

Jesus responds in verse 18, "Has no one returned to give glory to God except this foreigner?"

A couple of weeks ago I sat with my roommate, Kim, in our box-filled apartment on one of my last nights there. I was in the middle of packing up my life and moving.

"What a year!" Kim said.
I rolled my eyes in agreement as I thought of all the crap over the past 12 months.
Then Kim said, "Let's talk about how far you've come in a year."

A-ha.

You often hear ministry leaders talk about "celebrating wins." What went well? Where was success? It seems to me that it's much easier to talk about what went terribly, what we need to do better, how we need to prepare for what's next. And all those things are very, very important.

But so is celebrating wins.

Whereas my mind automatically sifted through what went terribly, my roommate wanted to celebrate the wins. She was being like the one healed man while I was being like the nine who walked away.

Because celebrating wins is returning to give glory to God. 

It isn't complimenting ourselves or puffing up our egos. It isn't being idealistic or unrealistic or any other istic. It isn't ignoring the crap or overlooking the mistakes. Celebrating wins is recognizing what God has done. Acknowledging how He has worked. Being thankful and grateful. Keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus.

It's something that I want to do much more of. I want to celebrate the wins in my life. I want to celebrate the wins in my work. I want to return to give glory to God.

Because sometimes I think God celebrates what He does in our lives more than we do.

to you who wait

Yesterday a man at church told me, "You're missing your calling."

He had the best intentions, and he meant it as a compliment, and I am not so insecure that I believed him and changed my vocation to Circuit Rider, henceforth.

But his words have hung around the fringes of my thoughts the past 24 hours.

Just because I am not doing right now what perhaps I will ultimately be doing, does not mean that, right now, I'm not exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Sometimes I think we are in too much of a hurry to get to the Promised Land that we miss the preparation time in the wilderness.

But preparation time is just as much of a calling as destination is.

Maybe God's calling on your life right now feels like wilderness. 

Just because you're not called to live in the Promised Land right now doesn't mean that where you are is not still your calling.

Don't rush what God is building in you in the wilderness to get to the Promised Land prematurely.

And don't mistake the Promised Land as the only "calling of God," so that you feel as though you are missing something until you get there. Being obedient is a pretty high calling, and if you're obeying right where you are, then you're fulfilling your calling whether you're in a desert or swimming in milk and honey.

The Lord your God has blessed you in everything you have done. He has watched your every step through this great wilderness. During these forty years, the Lord your God has been with you and you have lacked nothing. - Deuteronomy 2:7 NLT

Summitting, Now Hang Gliding

I was feeling pretty professional, very business-y, with my iPad and iPhone and Styrofoam cup of not-so-great coffee. But then I propped my feet up between the chairs in front of me, and when someone came and sat in one of the chairs I tried to pull my feet out before he could see, but my left foot got stuck. I tried to unstick it but I couldn't, and I started to panic because his elbow was getting close to my toes. So I slipped off my flip flop, leaned forward, and literally yanked on the stubborn shoe from side to side until it came free, like pulling a 300-pound man up a cliff on a rope. Karen, my coworker sitting next to me, laughed so that she almost snorted, and I realized I wasn't very professional at all.

But sitting for two days (in the Global Leadership Summit) and listening to intelligent, experienced, smart, witty speakers speak about leading, success, personal growth, responsibility, and Jesus, has left my mind full and stretched and ready to process, chunk by chunk.

One thought: God is working 24/7 on building His church. He knows it is the hope of the world. He loves it as His bride. And He has given me, little old me, a role in building it. Holy cow. The extreme privilege, honor, and blessing of this profundity has rocked my attitude, motive, and humility (or lack thereof). I am merely called to join a God who is already at work. This shakes me out of whatever prestige I thought I had (how silly of me!) and makes me feel honored to answer the call, yet even more eager to honor the One who calls.

Another thought: The world needs better female communicators. 

Finally: It definitely matters today how you receive criticism, instruction, and tutelage. You do not know what God might be preparing you for in the future. Soak it in! Be a sponge. Let that be your mantra, and don't worry about appearing foolish or unskilled. Nobody who humbles himself to learn from someone wiser will ever end up foolish.

I have lots more to process. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to learn.

Let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. - Luke 22:26b ESV