The Church of Ephesus – in the flesh

I just returned from The Gospel Coalition conference held in Indy. I am back now and very refreshed. Wowza, those TGC peeps can preach. Tim Keller, Kathy Keller, Mary Willson, John Piper. It was a FIRE HOSE of good stuff (especially Mary Willson by the way. Shout out to my new favorite!!)

I will admit to feeling a little prickly at first. For no really good reason except…

1) There were 7,000 women in one room which is the natural breeding ground for insecurity.

2) It really did legitimately seem like every single other woman was very, “precious.” I could not imagine any of them having an ugly moment with their child or feeding their family Kraft mac n’ cheese for dinner. (see above).

3) I have spent A LOT of time reading much “less” conservative theology because I am passionate about understanding what other members of the Body of Christ think about Jesus and culture and “hot topics.” I have done that for so long at first I could barely understand what was being said.

3) I had just read the book of Revelation and was struggling to figure out if I embodied every single one of the failures of the 7 churches, or just 6.

Then, Kathy Keller got up and spoke. It was all very good, but a side comment sent a chill straight to my soul. She said that because she was a gifted person, she ministered for over two decades with very little in the way of relationship with the Lord. She was simply doing what she could just happen to do very naturally which was lead and give wise counsel.

And then I knew that without a doubt, I was the church of Ephesus, in the flesh.

 Revelation 2: 2-4

I know your deeds,your hard work and your perseverance.

I know that you cannot tolerate wicked people, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not,

and have found them false. You have persevered and have

endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary.

Yet I hold this against you:

You have forsaken the love you had at first.

It’s easy to fall in love with students. They are beautiful and young and full of potential. When I see them, I love them and I want them to know God.

Sometimes I forgot why I want that for them though – because Jesus is so wonderful and amazing and His Word is honey, gold, a treasure! I can get lost in my passion to understand what they are grappling with and the many different voices they are hearing from the pulpit.

And when I forget or get lost, I can’t remember why I need to read the Bible, or why I need to worship Him, or why I should repent of my sins. I feel like our love gets contractual. He signed on the dotted line and so did I – why revisit it?

I don’t want to do that for 20 years. And so, I sat with His Word all weekend and sang of my love for Him.

Finally –  I stopped seeing the other women and only saw Jesus. And wowza – He is beautiful.






Gen 1

I love everything about the weather warming up. There is only one little thing about the summer that I’m dreading. It’s the bathing suit questions again.

Now that our daughters actually have preferences and style they would prefer to select their own clothing. First of all, why did this have to happen? My happy place is the infant/toddler section of Target. That was where I had hoped to stay, like say, for life. I was just figuring out the 4-6x section, when one daughter shot up to 5’10.

Suffice it to say, she’s no longer a 3T.

And, she is also sick and tired of my lack luster ability to articulate my thoughts on this whole modesty thing. Last summer I just put my foot down (after taking it out of my mouth) and said, “No bikini. I don’t know why. I just can’t right now. I’ll figure it out by next summer.”

And to be honest, I said no because I was completely wrapped up in what a “bikini” means in my Midwestern Conservative context. Which is a good thing to consider, but whatever “that” is is not the definition or dictator of modesty. “That” has nothing to do with the heart or the Word.

I’ve made some headway this year. Still no hard and fast rules, but definitely some ways of expressing the heart of the matter.

The body is a wonderful “tent” that houses a complex system, including our physical systems, but also our sexuality, our talents, our personality, our capacity and need for community, and our soul or spirituality. I understand them as all created by God in whose image I am made. I understand them all to work in relationship to one another and to be informed by one another.

For example, my soul gives guidance and regulation to all my other systems. The health of my physical systems are intimately tied to the health of my sexuality and soul. My talents are given expression through my physical systems and encouraged and fueled often by my spiritual experiences.

As I explain this idea to my girls, I give them a metaphor – a little pack of seedlings is an easy although not perfect one. All their little systems are beginning to blossom. Some of these sprouts are easy to talk about and nurture…

Oh look, a little growth in that talent! Let’s really maximize that little soccer talent and sign up for a travel team!!!

Oh no, a little weed over there in personality. Time for a family chore chart!!

But what about that sexuality seedling? There it is, growing up right alongside their understanding of Jesus and their physical bodies. How do we nurture and protect it so that it can mature and be a full participant in the beautiful creation system that is them?

I see often see two extremes in teen culture. They are either vastly over-watering that little seedling via a fire hose of unhelpful content, or vastly under-nourishing it because it is so difficult to expose openly, even to the most loving of moms and dads.

Simply put, they are often navigating an enormous array of sexually explicit crap all by themselves. Or they are so terrified of encountering any crap, they are hiding and stuffing whatever curiosity or questions they have.

I know I often wish my own kids could somehow just emerge from adolescence with a perfect understanding of their gender, their sexuality, and with all related issues like modesty, femininity, masculinity, and intimacy wrapped up in a neat little bow delivered by someone other than me.

We are wrestling with it, just as you are. It’s HARD. It’s AWKWARD.

And sometimes, I just do not know. Like last summer with the bikini thing. And sometimes we get just a bit of clarity and we pass it on. Never mind that it’s maybe a touch too late.

And so my girls will get this word this summer regarding modesty.

Your clothing is meant to house, just as your body does, all that you are. It gives voice to your body, your personality, your sexuality, and your soul. If your clothing only gives voice to your sexuality, it doesn’t serve you. If it over expresses your sexuality, it doesn’t serve you. Similarly, if it under-expresses your personality or sexuality, it doesn’t serve you.

(This is where I show them the picture of me wearing my baggie flannel shirt and men’s shorts – my basic outfit for all of my 20’s. Talk about TOTALLY under-expressing basically everything…)

And so we will scoot off to the bathing suit section and I will be the mom saying, “Honey. I love the color of that. Does it say, I am a 14 year old girl who is lovely, charming, smart, strong, developing a relationship with the God of the universe as best I can, and years away from expressing my sexuality via intimacy?”

Cue the rolling of the eyes…













Any of you with melancholy-ish bents understand when I say, “Phew. We made it through Christmas.”

We do try folks. Every year we put up sparkly lights and toast the season, but we only really enjoy the carols in minor keys (A little “Coventry Carol” or “What Child is This” anyone?).

And we let out a sigh of relief because Lent is finally here. The rest of the world will now have to join us on the “dark side” where the sadness and sufferings of life on earth are faced squarely.

There is a certain satisfaction in having you here. A certain, “I told you so” sweetness in our hearts. We will show you all the cold, hard passages in the Bible and make you read the wailing of the prophets and Psalm 88 – the most depressing in the entire Psalter.

We will allow the tiniest pin-pricks of light and hope in. We acknowledge Easter comes at the end of all this – but stay here in the “all this” for a while yet.

Join our chorus of laments and sing our songs in minor keys. Let us enjoy your fellowship where we live.

When we look to the dawn on Easter morning, we will shed tears of joy with you. But for now, shed tears with us for the starving, the suffering, the migrants, the war-torn, the people who may only know relief with Jesus in his other-worldly home.

We solemnly swear, if you will agree with us about all this darkness, we will agree with you, about all that is good and bright – in Jesus’ name.






The Assurances

Quad Day

One of the privileges I have as a “Trainer of Women Engaged in Collegiate Ministry” (hee hee, so formal!!!) is helping them figure out what they already know. This semester two young staff gals and I are are sweeping into a pile, sorting, sequencing, and sprucing up their collective “experience” and creating something pass-on-able and useful in their work with students.

For those of you with experience in the Navigators, you know we have acronyms and illustrations for everything – ACTS, PRISM, the BRIDGE (one verse, two verse, pictures only, and “full on”), the WHEEL, LOA, BWC, the HAND (prayer and word), the PIPELINE, STS, STP – to name just a few off the tippy-tippy top of a very long list.

I’m finding that many of our young staff are exposed to these early on, enjoy them, use them, and then morph them into something more fitting their own souls – which is exactly right.

We also internalize the general principals and ideas so deeply, we no longer recognize what catalyst or “tool” helped initiate our long held practices.

While the product is good – relating with the Lord in meaningful, non-formulaic ways –  it can also lead to a degree of insecurity in passing on what we know to the next generation. Everything can begin to feel intuitive and hard to articulate.

So the girls and I are going back and mining the gold that was given to us, recovering the original shapes, pictures, acronyms and formulas that started many of us off in our early years with Jesus.

Our aim is to pass them on in a form that both honors the original message and incorporates where they have taken us. We are going “retro,” and dusting off the “vintage” because it’s good, good, stuff when the light of today shines on it.

I’ll be posting some of what we put together here on the blog. Can I just tell you how much fun I’m having? On Monday the three of us, Beckie, Rachel and I, gathered together after Rachel’s little one had fallen asleep, ate chocolate and shared our thoughts on a classic Navigator pamphlet – Lessons on Assurance.

It’s a 5 week study on the “Assurances” we can have as a follower of Jesus – the assurance that we are saved, that God answers prayer, that we can experience victory over hurts, habits, and hang-ups, that we are forgiven completely, and that God will lead and guide us in life.

Each of us put together a hand-out we could use with a new believer, or an older one who might be served by confirming their journey with the Lord, on that first lesson – “Assurance of Salvation.” WOW. It’s material I’ve used in bits and pieces over the years certainly, but haven’t laid eyes on in over 10 years! With a touch of today and the wisdom of having lived the verses for a while, the three of us had quite a lot to say. Fantastic!

Both girls have several students they can share the material with, who then will have something they can share with other students they are meeting. GENERATIONS!!!

I love my job. Nothing, when it comes right down to it, brings me more joy than seeing someone understand the gospel more fully. I also love that my “office” is sometimes the living room of another dear woman, late at night, babies sleeping upstairs, and chocolate on the coffee table. Precious moments!

Humpback Whale

humpback whale

The tips of his long fingers dragged slowly forward, his elbow rising up and forward – painfully slowly – like a humpback whale cresting in the ocean it hovered slowly above the water before crashing down to complete an elegant and un-hurried stroke. Slim and impossibly young hands gripped the concrete lip of the pool and his grey head and hawkish eyes turned to begin another lap. At once plodding and swift.

After his many deliberate laps he turned the pool back over to his squirming granddaughter. While she splashed he did his thoughtful rounds –  checking chemicals, skimming bugs and leaves, removing the hilarious faux ducks, and when she wasn’t looking – he slipped a gigantic inflatable plastic snake into the deep end.

She was trolling the slope into the deep end in large blue goggles. When she popped up to come face to face with the snake she shrieked until over her own screaming she heard him chuckling in his poolside chair.

He could be serene, seperate, reserved, even shy – but his love of laughter and good joke always won out. That was his way into my heart.

That and his red 2-seater Mercedes. A playful and frivolous choice for a tenacious field corporal who had served with distinction in two wars. Friends who knew him in the day described an angry alchoholic, but I only knew a man who never missed Saturday mass or his AA meeting – the man who sang nonsense songs on the way to the hardware store to buy me Hubba Bubba.

He was unapologetically unassuming in a family of big personailites, big voices and bigger vices. He was quiet and unflappable, even when I launched myself out of his big jacuzzi tub and landed naked and sopping wet in this lap. He held me there, in his worn red leather chair, until my teeth started chattering and Grandmother chased me back into the bathroom.

As I grew up, we became pranksters together – tag team story tellers who came in from walks in the woods with wild tales of a tame fox (Sally) who spoke to us. We would leave the backyard through a small gate that led into the forest preserve, walking in a single file until we reached a perfectly straight line of trees and a small pond. Then we’d get just lost enough on the way home to give us time to concoct our whopper stories about Sally and her kits.

When he was diagnosed with lung cancer, we sat together on the wooden swing near the pool and didn’t say anything – just back and forth and back and forth. It was so noisy in the house – grandma going on and on about surgeries and hospitals, trying to will the cancer away with the her formable presence and flinty will.

When he was gone, all the joy and heart of the family was too. None of us, except maybe my mom, knew the extent to which he was holding us all together. He was a man who had come back from darkness and despair and held in himself a certain tenacious hopefulness. Without it, some of us sank into the lesser selves that he had been somehow, miraculously, holding at bay.

When they went to dig his grave, they uncovered an enormous boulder. For some reason, we all though that was funny. Even in death, he had one last prank to pull.

Do you hear what you’re saying right now…

I was chatting with one of our young staff the other day. She and I were discussing her new season of life – BABY!!!! and some of the options she has for contribution on campus next fall.

She mentioned a couple of girls who had recently reached out to her asking for some time. As she described their needs, they each seemed pretty tangled up in significant issues with boys and parents and boys and boys.

I could totally understand why these girls wanted time with my friend. She’s older, wiser, she’s obviously made some great choices…and she could spend the entirety of next semester untangling their sticky webs. And they would be greatly benefited. And they would be blessed.

But then something dribbled out of my mouth that literally came from the Holy Spirit. I can promise you it did not pass through my brain for even one second because it’s literally the antithesis of what I did all this past year.

“You have so much to offer these gals in terms of life experience, but if that’s what you major on, what happens when the next bump in the road comes – the next boy, the marriage issue, the financial woes? I believe you will make a greater contribution, a more lasting one, if you ask them to check their bags at the door and you spend time with them in the Word and in prayer. Give them all the goods you have there – which are so many. Let them make application where they see fit. Then you can know when that next obstacle comes, they will know how to plow through with the Lord.”

Who said that?


Me, the one who spent the ENTIRE year counseling a few girls through tangley webs and yes, praying and studying the Word, but kinda on the side?

I don’t regret the year. I do believe the Lord was at work and it was a unique season.  But, now that the students are gone and my head is clearing, after wondering if I should just get my masters in counseling and leave staff – I’m back.

I love sharing counsel, but I love to see women learning from the Word and hearing from God even more. Sometimes you have to give a dab of advice, but I don’t think I want my legacy to be wisdom as much as I want my legacy to be more wise women in the world.

Emotionally Over Prepared


When Haven was 4, I started thinking about her kindergarten experience. Not what kind of school she should go to, although I was certainly researching the options. It was more akin to sifting through every possible grief and loss that I might experience in sending (or not sending) my first to school.

…the loss of her physical presence with me, near me at all times.

…her exposure to unfriendly children or teachers.

…the hustle and bustle of parenting kids in school.

…the pressure to make friends with other parents. (Tell-tale giveaway – I am way introverted.)

Anyway, I cried and fretted and looked at her longingly for many hours, and prayed for approx. 2 years. Then the day came. She went off to school and I shed NOT ONE TEAR. I was “emotionally over prepared.”

That little story may help put into context what I am currently over preparing for. There are many things currently on my plate –

The kids going to high school, driving, becoming prodigals or missionaries and/or both, the kids moving away from me, the kids choosing spouses…and on and on and on. I think of these things while I drive, watch TV, listen to music. Think is the wrong word. I test myself with every possibility.

What would it feel like if….

And what if “it” went the entire other direction…

And what about if “this” got in the mix…

The other day I posted a little blurb about our middle son Tim on Facebook – about his love of toast. That was only part of what I was thinking about. Under that toast story was my realization that Tim expresses so much of his thoughts, feelings, and emotions non verbally.

He shows anger and frustration in his face and body language and uses very few words. He expresses love and care through service and consideration not “love yas” like the girls do. I know what he is interested in by how and what he plays with. I know who and what he’s thinking about when we pray.

How will I know how he feels and what he is thinking when he isn’t living with me?

This hit me like a ton of bricks.

Will he send me cards? Will he text me? Will we Skype? Will I lose this bond I have with him completely, partially, seasonally, permanently, healthfully, horribly?

It’s a good thing I have some time. I think 7 years should give me nearly enough time to ready myself for moving him to college. I will need every single minute.