A perfect way to end the summer! Love my family and I’m super grateful to have had the time to get away and unwind after a crazy summer!
Last night I sat in the kitchen and talked about finance, religion, and every other uncouth subject with Julie until 11:00 PM while she prepped meals for my fourth summer of craziness at the MBC. Matt stumbled in from an evening nap and cracked a few jokes; then they both gave their semi-frequent “rah-rah-ree, we’re team Bri!” pep talk before we all went to bed. Today I woke up in my brightly lit bedroom, where pictures hang of people who were just footnotes in my college years, in a house I never thought I’d stay overnight again after 2009. People I’ve admired from afar and friends I’ve enjoyed as a big kid have become dear friends and my part of my family as an adult.
When I moved to Missouri, I wasn’t sure I was cut out for working as a little presby in Southern Baptist world. I had friends take bets I wouldn’t last a year here. I knew I wouldn’t be living at the Kearns longer than six months. I was worried my life was going to become too small. I thought I would expand my photography business and write a book. All of that was wrong.
I remember my last Monday night in Rogers, Arkansas to grab a cup of coffee at the only place I’ve ever been known as a “regular” and catch up with a friend. Elizabeth made my decaf and Logan gave me and my friend the left overs of the day’s pastries while he and Alex mopped the storefront. I remember my friend, after some hesitation, telling me that it didn’t seem to fit my goals to move to Missouri. I knew what he meant, I felt the strain so badly of my career goals and my personal goals pulling me in two. “I just work too much, for too little, and no time to have community or be known.” I finally breathed out, probably a bit defensively. Let me tell you, it’s hard being 23 and knowing the difference between good choices and best choices. I cried leaving the Pleasant Grove Starbucks that night because I wasn’t sure I was doing the ‘right’ thing. I won’t ever get the chance to know what life would have looked like if I had stayed at the little camera shop off Walnut street or found another job in town, but I’ve been afforded the perspective of my life since then in Missouri and with every ounce of praise and gratefulness to God I can say I am known.
I have been known on my ugly days and sad days, on the days I am being silly or kind, on the days I want to be known and the days it’s hard being known. I work with the best kind of team of coworkers who invite me in their lives and have walked with me in my faith. I have little roots sprouting off my livelihood that worry me will hurt will they will have to be pulled up. I have learned that loving the Lord, being disciplined, growing up, and being joyful are all choices I have been grateful to make.
All this to say, I woke up this morning and realized it’s May 22nd. I’m celebrating a three year work anniversary in the best way I know how: prepping for college students to move in on Sunday, taking Melinda to lunch, and chasing around Carson kiddos.
It doesn’t get much more ‘Jeff City’ than that. XOXO -B
May 22, 2012 – Peace out 208 North Michael Street!
Year one was pretty great, but it just keeps getting better. Look at how little those kiddos are!
Yesterday I made a long haul to Oklahoma City to spend some quality time with my college roommate, Susanna, this weekend. I relish any trip that takes longer than an hour as an opportunity to spend time listening to that new album all the way through (twice, if it’s that good), catching up on my podcasts or long overdue phone calls, and time in prayer for my loved ones and thing things that are hurting my heart. (aka Introvert’s Paradise) If I’m not intentional with the quiet spaces in my life, I will fill them up quickly with frivolity, and get out of the practice of living honestly before the Lord.
Do you know that feeling? That feeling like it’s been so long since you’ve been close and open to God about what’s on your plate? That feeling that even though nothing’s different about your surroundings, it’s all different in a moment because your heart is fixed on Him and the world seems to just stop for a second? Sometimes that moment is too painful when I’m out of stride with his, or maybe I’m upset with how he is playing out the circumstances and his power takes my will to task. Sometimes my heart is too full to take on that moment. But sometimes, God has spoken gently and lead me to a place of longing to be before him just as I am, sitting in my car at 70 MPH on the Oklahoma turnpike.
This weekend is a special for Christians all over the world as a day we remember his life, death, and resurrection. This year, more than others, I’m so overwhelmed at the kindness of the Lord for his people. His love for me.
There’s a lyric I’ve been meditating on lately that says “You are rewriting our histories with love, yes You are rewriting our histories with Your blood. When we look back all we will see is Your kindness because You are rewriting our histories with love” (Bethel Music, Alleluia) I confess, over the past five years this has not always been the posture of my heart. My experience has always been that God calls me to obedience and when I submit, I have felt his chastisement and perhaps, his judgement. I’ve felt the inadequacies of my faith and despaired in the gap between faith and action.
I’m learning through a little over two decades of following Christ that faith is a journey that grows and mature only through time and grief of the brokenness we live in. It means being honest when doubts bubble up in my faith, and living honestly before Him and his people. I’m learning that God loves me exactly as I am -in seasons of nearness and separation, faith and doubt -he delights in ME. And when He lived as an example for me on earth, and died on my behalf, He did not expect me to follow it to the letter but simply come to Him first with my greatest joys, trials, pain, and disbelief. He just asks us to show up. I know for some of us that have known Him a long time it can feel like there’s more to it, but there’s not. We are just compelled to lean into Him. The Gospel is so simple and free and over the years I’ve muddied that.
I’ve had time this past week to think through the last five years through a series of reading journals and emails and I’ve finally realized for the first time in a long time that because of Him, everything is different. My past, my present, and my future. I’m broken over this. My heart has been shredded by love this weekend -not by law or morality, not by church, or by all the pain and suffering we must withstand this side of heaven. For the first time in forever, I am broken by undeserved affection. I feel his pleasure. I am stunned at what lengths God has taken to rectify his relationship with his creation. His relationship with me.
This song I’ve been listening to a lot this week goes on to say, “What goes up it must come down, that’s why glory falls when praise abounds”; this simple line has brought so much truth and joy to my soul. Over five years of struggle, of self-condemnation, of wondering if this faith journey is really cut out for me, not only have I found Christ faithful and true, but GOOD and worthy. His glory has been near. Out of obedience, I want to wear him well in my life, to speak of his kindness in the midst of struggle. He is worth it. This is not a confession of happiness but of joy, not a confession of ease but of weightiness. His love is the greatest taste, the richest of fair.
This Easter I’m coming to the house of the Lord with nothing to offer but my gratitude and a humbled heart. Maybe next year will be the same, maybe not. But I want to remember this week as a week I remembered the Lord and spoke well of His name. Whatever may come and whatever lies before me, may I bless His name.
Come in close, lean in. He delights in filling those broken places.
Happy Easter, friends. May you find him faithful in whatever journey you are on.
I drive across the train tracks past an old community every Tuesday morning just north of my neighborhood to have coffee with Joan. It’s a weathered stretch of homes down the little highway that has seen better days. Several of them have been vacant for years; weeds creeping in and rotted board dangling over stoops. I imagine how adorable a few of them would look gutted out and spruced up with a little garden and laundry line in the backyard but I’m sure for most prospective homeowners it couldn’t possibly be worth the time and money. I pass those abandoned houses every week, some days I imagine what they could be and other days I imagine what they were at one time. My favorite house is a tiny two-story white farmhouse with lots of little windows, a yellow door frame, and a snug front porch. I’m a southern gal through and through and I love nothing more than lounging barefoot at the end of the day on a porch listening to katydids and watching lightning bugs. I think about that looking at that mess of a house. The siding is peeled off and some of the windows are busted through. The roof is curving upwards on the edges, like a sticker a sweaty-handed child has handled too long. At one time that house was a home and it was given care and it sheltered life.
Sometimes I wonder about all the small deaths of hopes and dreams in our lives that take our little homes that our spirits are encased in that wear us down; when our ideals and taste do not match our expectation or ability. Or further still, I think about all the small, unnoticed secrets and undisciplined areas that we allow in our average day-to-day business that spread and grow in dark, hidden places. I think about the whirlwinds that rip apart our lives, from foundation up, without warning or consent and we’re left alone deciding where to start picking up the pieces.
The way I see it, we’ve all been given land, a space in time that our experiences begin to lay the foundations of our homes, where we grow and dwell. For some of us the foundations are already there, for others we start with shoveling dirt. How our homes are shaped determine the strength of them. I think about those homes on HGTV that are beautiful but when they have an inspector take a closer look, there’s a sagging beam in the attic or a termite infestation that only the contractor can see. Ultimately it will bring it to the home’s ruin but on the outside, everybody wants it. I see myself in this way sometime, in the seasons I want to keep people at arm’s length for fear they will truly see me as I am, imperfect and at the center of my universe. I think about the secret sins that are easily masked to others but eat away at me on the insides. And then I think about the sturdy homes, the ones that have seen a lot of life and need constant maintenance, that have maybe lost its luster. I think about the people who feel far too established in who they are and where they are to have hope for change, and the tedious day-to-day work it takes just to keep it all running leaves them feeling bleak and directionless. I think about parents of little ones, or those struggling to make ends meet at a less than satisfying job, or those putting in extra effort to revive those burned out marriages, or barely hanging on in chronic pain or illness. And then I think about the myriad of homes that have been utterly destroyed and the lives that they leave to pick up the pieces after abuse, death, and other devastations.
When I think about my life, I don’t always see a home or debris. I see my little patch of earth. Sure, I have family and friends, but I haven’t really found my niche in work or career and I don’t have a place that I consider my home and most of that is symptomatic of my season in life, which makes me think about the alternatives. I think about other people’s lives and wonder how I’m doing in comparison, which is usually a terrible idea as I usually succumb to a tiny heart attack. I think it’s why I’m drawn to the little white farmhouse that’s falling apart on Highway T. I like the idea of fixing something, taking something established and making it new (and cute). I long for that establishment and rootedness. I think about all the times Abraham picked up that tent and kept moving, settling, and building alters to Yahweh. How exhausting that must have been! I moved five times in less than two years in college and I remember swearing I wouldn’t move for another two years after that, which I subsequently broke less than a year later.
Here’s the thing: anything worth something requires hard work, doing the right thing, and denying ourselves for the sake of our little homes our soul longs to dwell in. I can point to the home shattered in a million bits and say “no thank you,” but who can control when disaster strikes and how can I believe that too will not also be my lot? I can point to the established home and say “yes, that one” but I cannot see the routine work and effort that must be pumped in everyday, whose strength and vitality has been built over time and careful attention and weathered many storms. I cannot point to the beautiful home on the best piece of property and say “I want what they have” because if I only knew the sort of decay happening to its foundations and structure, my home would not stand long.
God is our master builder, our designer, contractor, inspector. He knows us and loves us each unlike we’ve ever known we could be loved and cared for and what we’ve been given and what we go through is not some terrible mistake. We were plucked out of eternity and placed in time, on our little bits of earth, and he has given us hard things to carry out while we’re here and he has given us the tools to accomplish it. You are not alone. The Lord tells us in Jeremiah that he has good plans for us, plans that give us a future and a hope. In Psalms 90, the psalmist wrote, “Lord, through all the generations you have been our home.” The whole psalm is incredibly beautiful and encouraging -it goes on like this:
Lord, through all the generations
you have been our home!
Before the mountains were born,
before you gave birth to the earth and the world,
from beginning to end, you are God.
You turn people back to dust, saying,
“Return to dust, you mortals!”
For you, a thousand years are as a passing day,
as brief as a few night hours.
You sweep people away like dreams that disappear.
They are like grass that springs up in the morning.
In the morning it blooms and flourishes,
but by evening it is dry and withered.
We wither beneath your anger;
we are overwhelmed by your fury.
You spread out our sins before you—
our secret sins—and you see them all.
We live our lives beneath your wrath,
ending our years with a groan.
Seventy years are given to us!
Some even live to eighty.
But even the best years are filled with pain and trouble;
soon they disappear, and we fly away.
Who can comprehend the power of your anger?
Your wrath is as awesome as the fear you deserve.
Teach us to realize the brevity of life,
so that we may grow in wisdom.
O Lord, come back to us!
How long will you delay?
Take pity on your servants!
Satisfy us each morning with your unfailing love,
so we may sing for joy to the end of our lives.
Give us gladness in proportion to our former misery!
Replace the evil years with good.
Let us, your servants, see you work again;
let our children see your glory.
And may the Lord our God show us his approval
and make our efforts successful.
Yes, make our efforts successful!
I didn’t know this until just a week ago, but this is widely regarded as a psalm of Moses. That’s right, the baby who was found floating on the Nile River, raised by royalty, killed a Egyptian guard oppressing his people, ran away, married a Middianite, returned to Egypt to free the Israelites, and wandered in the desert for FORTY years before being denied entry to the land that was promised to his people. Moses knew a thing or two about what home was and what it wasn’t. And here he has found God faithful in all the chaos, in all the change, and unbelievable work required of his life. I love this prayer so much in light of the life he lead. Moses knew the time he had was short, he saw awesome and horrific things and here at the end of his life, he has found the Lord to be his home. Oh, that our sights would be set on that! I pray that my heart would be fixed not on what is unfolding in other people’s lives but that I would be fixed on the Lord, who establishes and rules over it all.
So here I am.
This is my lot.
I am looking out at my field and my sleeves must be rolled up. There is a home waiting to be built, a soil that must first be turned up, a blueprint that must be followed, just as some of you must begin to pick up the pieces of what was and begin again, others must ask for help to pluck out the decay, and others still must continue in the grind of maintenance, faithful that all the small acts will withstand decades more of shelter. Here we are. Let’s do hard things.
Lord, make our efforts successful.
Be our home.
This week of advent is focused on JOY. I love this week. However you celebrate advent, generally everyone celebrates the third week the same way. It’s party week! The wait is almost over, we’ve stepped out of solemn expectancy and quiet peace, and this week we get to cut loose and remember that Christ is on his way, he is our good news of great joy for all people! I hope you can take some time this week to sing out your favorite Christmas song, help someone in need, maybe read the gospel of John, buy someone’s coffee, smile at your cashier, just find a way to express your joy.
Any time I thought about what I wanted to say about the joy of Christmas, all I could think about was this oldie. So instead of trying to replicate, I thought I would just share it here.
“And then there was a party” – Happy Advent friends!
Yesterday I left my office around noon and walked the four blocks to the capital to welcome the NAACP on their 120 mile march from Ferguson to Jefferson City and to stand with them, pray, and listen as they called for change, accountability, and justice in policing and racial equality. My heart has been unbearably heavy the past 120 days since the killing of Michael Brown, as it’s torn a part a community I love and have served in several weeks over the last five years, as it’s highlighted the pain and injustice that has gone on since the foundation of this country, and as bias, discrimination, and the lack of love and understanding has been expressed in very impersonal and insensitive ways by many in the body of Christ and abroad that seem to negate the truth that Michael Brown’s mother reiterated yesterday that “all lives matter”. I sat in the bottom floor rotunda waiting among several high school students and teachers from East Saint Louis. And then we heard it. They were here. A roar outside above us that echoed through the corridors, into the dome and suffused every floor. “No justice, no peace” they cried over and over. When the doors opened protestors entered quietly and after several minutes NAACP chairman Roslyn Brock began with prayer, pleading, “O God of justice, hear our cries.” next to a hallway with an inscription above it that read, “Lord God of hosts be with us yet, lest we forget.”
No justice, no peace. I’ve heard and seen this phrase thousands of times since August 9th and I can’t shake it, nor should I. The truth is always clear and it always compels us into change that feels impossible. and thus, you cannot have absolute peace without justice, and you cannot have full justice without peace. Both hang in balance and anything short of complete peace and justice is momentary, insatiable, or counterfeit.
I’ve been reading a little book that’s rocking my world that was published a few years ago called Deepening the Soul for Justice by Bethany Hoang, a director of Biblical Justice at International Justice Mission (an organization you must check out, if anything). As I finished it this afternoon in a puddle of convicted and passionate tears, I remembered this coming week of advent was focused on celebrating Christ birth in the posture of peace. And while the book centralizes over the issue of justice, God has quickened my spirit to share with you some of Hoang’s thoughts, as it speaks indirectly of His peace. We wait on both and we cannot focus solely on peace in the coming week without the truth of God’s justice pressing in behind it. So in this season of finding peace in the second week of advent we must worship wholly in His peace and not dismiss His justice as they are connected; strung together at the ribs, tugging at one, beckoning the other.
Hoang writes on Transforming Justice:
“Seeking justice doesn’t begin at the door of a brothel. Seeking justice begins with seeking the God of justice.
For most followers of Jesus, the difference between a pursuit of justice that brings transformation for real people suffering real violence and a pursuit of justice that amounts to little more than good intentions is simple – perhaps even simpler than we want it to be. The difference is found at our starting point, every single day. It begins with the choices we make, large or small, all day long.
Fighting injustice – the abuse of power that oppresses the vulnerable through violence and lies- can be excruciatingly hard work. It can be exhausting. It is relentless. But Jesus offers to make our burdens light, even the burden of fighting injustice.
And so, seeking justice -bringing right order and exerting life-giving power to protect the vulnerable- does not begin at the threshold of abuse. Seeking justice begins with seeking God: our God who longs to bring justice; our God who longs to use us, every one of his children, to bring justice; our God who offers us the yoke of Jesus in exchange for things that otherwise leave us defeated.”
In contrast, if we want true peace to rule in our hearts as exhorted in Colossians 3:15, we must first seek the God of peace. Are you scrambling to be the fixer of your family’s problems or allowing fear and pain to reign in a place in your life Christ has clearly stamped, covered, and taken care of? If your life is lacking peace, seek first the God of peace; He promises to dwell in us richly.
“Prayer is the work of being still before the God who knows more of the reality of injustice than we will ever know, the God who alone can move and act through us to bring about greater levels of transformation than we could ever begin to dream on our own. … Praying through the calendar of meetings and projects for the day ahead. Praying through and releasing to God all that weighs us down as we enter and try to engage this work. We release and in so doing, we receive.
Contrary to what might seem logical, sabbath stopping is not meant primarily to help us “rest up” so we are ready for the next challenge; it is not meant to be pragmatic toward another end. The resting and stopping of sabbath are intended as being good in and of themselves – complete. They are a declaration of all that has come before as belonging to God, and a declaration that all that is left undone and all that lies ahead also belongs to God. All is from God and for God and by God. Sabbath is a declaration that it is God alone who reigns supreme in this day.
… Foolish as it seemed, it became clear to me that this command to “stop”, to “rest”, to “cease” and to be still is a command that pervades scripture. Nearly every issue that the Israelites faced – idolatry, murder, coveting, grumbling, lying – could be linked to their root disobedience of not keeping the sabbath and therefore not trusting God above all else. Exile, captivity by foreign rulers, even their oppression and enslavement of their own kin and neighbors had some link back to their unwillingness to obey God’s fourth commandment to honor the sabbath and keep it holy. Disobedience of the sabbath was, at root, a manifestation of both idolatry and injustice in the life of God’s people.
… Prayer in many moments can all too easily feel like an interruption. It feels inefficient and ineffective. Sometimes it might even feel irresponsible in the face of truly urgent matters. And that is exactly why the sabbath rhythm exists. When we least feel that we have time to stop is likely when we most need to do precisely that – stop. Without moments and days of intentional sabbath, I am bound again to the treadmill of prayerless striving.
… In Psalm 62 David exhort is to “trust in the Lord at all times … pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.” It would seem David makes a fundamental connection between choosing to trust in the Lord and pouring out our hearts. On the one hand, we cannot pour out our hearts to God if we do not trust God. On the other hand, we cannot learn to trust God unless we pour out our hearts to him. We cannot pour out our hearts to God until we have stopped what we are doing and intentionally rest in God’s presence. And we cannot rest in God’s presence -stopping from our busyness and efforts to make a difference and seeking to know God and God’s power above all- if we do not trust that God goes before and behind us, making a way, doing his work of justice through us, able to accomplish more than all we could ever ask or imagine. And we cannot trust God’s presence and power at work in our midst unless we actually stop and rest with God, allowing God to speak to us and even to show us his hand at work beyond us.”
In order to see and receive God’s peace, carve out true rest to lean into the Lord in prayer, not only to be heard, but to also hear. I love her line, “we release and in so doing, we receive.” Prayer is a spiritual practice that can easily be left undisturbed and can easily strip the clarity of your calling down to doubt and despair. How often have we hurriedly prayed, asking for something specific, and we miss the moment of sweet communion, the peaceful refuge of his presence? Prayer is perhaps the greatest and most effective way to receive peace.
I discovered that God gives us a great gift when we simply allow ourselves to open his Word and sit with it. The gift is not marked solely by new insights, promises and proverbs, though the scriptures are full of each. In sitting with God’s word, God gives us himself. And in giving us himself, God enables us to see more of what God sees, and in the ways God sees. We don’t need to come with anything other than a willingness to let the Holy Spirit teach us and open our eyes as we read. God meets us in these small moments and draws us further into the riches of knowing him and his word.
… Above all, cultivating a love for God’s word is one of the most important daily practices we can engage as we pursue justice. It is also a way we can engage with others, growing through a community committed to deepening the spiritual roots of desire to do justice. The pursuit of justice is never meant to be done alone, nor is the pursuit of God. Even when I think I already know what a certain passage has to say, when I sit down with a good friend or group of people and we open God’s Word together, even the most read and reread passages of Scripture take on fresh life. And when we begin to read and see Scripture -whether alone or with others- through the lens of grappling with the overwhelming reality of pain and injustice in our world today, God’s Word pierces through murky waters and seemingly impossible darkness with blazing clarity.
When you don’t know what to do about injustice, when you don’t know how to press on, when you’d rather shrink back or even -perhaps especially- when you’re ready to charge forward, open God’s Word. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you – this will draw you nearer to understanding justice first in the hear of God and next in our own lives. And the questions we bring to God with his Word will form each of us to reflect more and more of God’s heart for all people.”
This is so straightforward: peace is found in his Word, God reveals himself to us through his Word. I struggle with daily routine and this is reflected in my spiritual life as well, so it is always a conscious choice to spend time in the word for me. And in seasons where I am doing this daily, are seasons my soul has ceased less and less. In this season of advent, let’s be determined to examine His word more closely, more preciously, in the truth that this is the well our souls need to drink deeply and find refuge.
“God is greatly concerned with injustice that he continually invites his children to face darkness for the purpose of sending us in to scatter it. As we choose to face grave darkness in our broken world, one of the best ways to combat our own pendulum swings between apathy on the one hand and despair on the other is to also intentionally choose hope. Hope can be impotently naive and moorless when pursued as nothing more than a sentimental wish. But when hope is grounded in the reality of who God is and the reality of how God works in our world, it becomes a source of great power in the face of even the darkest circumstances.
Put simply, we are never first on the scene of anything in our world today, be it our personal lives or the lives of people across the globe. when we encounter injustice, whether in story or face-to-face, we are encountering a reality that God knows to its deepest depths. And when God invites us to act in the face of injustice, God is inviting us to join the work he is already doing. Our God is always first on the scene, but he chooses to draw us in and use us as his vessels. We serve a God who has already seen, already heard; God who is ready to send us. Above all, we serve a God whose glory cannot be quenched. Hope in our God’s glory will never disappoint (Romans 5:1-5).
… The choice to pray, to ask of God, to listen for his voice, leads up to encounter hope that trumps our temptation to despair. In prayer we are reminded that decades and even centuries of injustice sometimes take great time and persevering work to reverse. And so we wait in prayer with hope. We keep asking God and listen with great expectation. We bring God our hope for little girls locked in darkness. Hope for the slave trapped by viciously brutal owners. Hope for the unjustly accused. We pray with hope as Paul instructs, without ceasing.
… Choose to face darkness. Choose to cast despair to the wayside. Choose to let God lead you above all else. Choose hope.
When we look at the state of the world, especially these days it seems, it can look devastating and the idea for peace on a global scale looks impossible. When Christ returns to judge the living and the dead, justice will be served, fully and completely. Peace will be restored, fully and completely. The Kingdom is here and also not yet. And so these afflictions, wars, natural disasters are “the beginning of birth pains” for Christ’s return (Matthew 24:8). Our task is clear: to share a Gospel of peace, a Gospel of justice, a Gospel of reconciliation. It is hard to bear witness and take action against sin in the word, but we must not despair. We must choose hope and the truth that total peace is in store.
“Mark Labberton writes, “Christian worship corporate and individual can and should be one of the most profound and relevant responses to power abuse in the world. In worship we cast our lives upon the faithful and just power of God When we do so, we oppose all acts of unjust power.” This kind of worship is not easy. It is rarely comfortable and barely rational and yet it is the way the church has been called to move.
… Worship in the pursuit of justice roots us in truth, which is essential to our spiritual sustenance. Seeking justice without worship leaves attending to the second greatest commandment by bypassing the first. This pathway risks the unveiling of a new kind of legalism in our hearts. This new legalism is expressed in a ruthless pursuit of justice that stems from a heart that has not itself been examined for its own injustice.
… Worship in the pursuit of justice also has the power to connect us to one another. history is full of stories of justice heroes whose lives serve as a benchmark for the hopes of this generation. Heroes like William Wilberforce, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Harriet Tubman, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Sojourner Truth, and Martin Luther King Jr. are each rightly remembered for their leadership and inspiring voices. But what and whom -worship of the true God of justice- stands behind these leaders is often what gets missed.
In worship, our individual doubts seem less dramatic and lose power. When we look and listen and join with community around us, we will realize that we are not alone. The justice journey is corporate. Worship in the pursuit of justice not only connects us to one another. Perhaps most important, worship connects us -all of us, regardless of our particular gifts and skills and role in the fight- to the oppressed.
Worship is our well of peace and justice and we are meant to drink of it together. Whatever is unfolding in your life this week that is unbearable, I pray that you find his peace in his presence and that you would be both blessed by and a blessing to God as you worship with other believers this advent season.
“Every year that passes I become more and more aware of my need to be committed to practices that help me remember and in turn live in the reality of God’s promises. If we are going to persevere in telling stories of God’s faithfulness, we must ourselves remember God’s faithfulness. God’s abundant grace. The hope of God’s glory that will never disappoint. If we are going to persevere in bringing and end to injustice, we must continually remember the reality of injustice and the overriding reality of our God who loves justice.
When and if we open ourselves up to see inhumanity and injustice around the globe, “man’s inhumanity to man” can all too easily become crushing. Unbearable. Paralyzing. Even numbing. It can evoke utter despair. And yet God asks us, as those would take up our cross and follow Jesus to Golgotha, to allow ourselves to be drawn into the pain of suffering and violence.
Let it break our hearts. Even to lead other to these places of pain.
Yes, we are called to “bear witness” but our witness must not end with observation or with unbearable pain as the final word. We are called to live as those who, in the midst of the unbearable, in the midst of pain, do not shrink back but rather rise up.
We are called to rise up, engage injustice, take “the pain of man’s inhumanity to man” and bring it to the foot of the cross. At the cross we meet the God who drew near to us without fear. We meet the God who moved toward the oppressed. We meet the God who joyfully submitted to bearing all our sin, all our shame, all our burdens; the God who offers us his yoke, who makes our burdens light. At the cross we can proclaim with boldness the call of the psalms and the prophets, “I will remember the deeds of the Lord” (Psalm 77:11)
May we make choices every day that move us toward the God who alone can deepen the passion and conviction of his calling on our lives, the God who alone can sustain us; our God who will cleanse us from broken-hearted fear and despair; our God who, when we simply ask, will surely make us people who are marked and moved by great hope, courage and, above all, love.
May we move forward with deep roots, filled with the Holy Spirit, sustained by knowing the only hope that never disappoints -the hope of God’s glory, the hope of God’s healing, the hope of God’s kingdom, now and to come.
You are invited.”
Simply put: if that doesn’t make your heart want to explode with passion, I can’t think of a single thing in Christendom that will. This is the good stuff, people. The hard, good, beautiful stuff. It is at the foot of the cross that peace and justice meet in perfect harmony.
When I left the capital, my heart heavy, wondering how my country will ever be able to have a space for clear and respectful dialog about race, I wanted to despair. I wanted to give up caring about things I don’t know how to fix. I wanted to fold my arms around Michael Brown’s momma and tell her that if I could carry a little bit of her sorrow to ease the unbearable weight of loss, I would. But I couldn’t. Because two thousand years ago a whole nation waited to see an end to all the injustice, for a ruler to rise up and lead their people out of a season of silence and oppression. And yet one day, their answer came as a tiny baby, where nothing good came out of his home town, who grew steadily in wisdom in stature, who at the right time, proclaimed peace and justice, and proclaimed a Gospel that never overthrew a government, or eradicated disease, or ended suffering in the way Israel thought it would look like. But through obedience and self-sacrifice, he conquered death and gave his Spirit to guide those who would believe in Him. He is our salvation, he is our hope, he is our righteousness, he is our peace.
“Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us.” Romans 5:1
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” John 14:27
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” Romans 15:13
“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” Corinthians 4:16-18
“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11
I pray that where injustices arise, that the body of Christ would rise up and be the Gospel reconcilers of our day, that we would also be the blessed peacemakers of Matthew 5 and comfort and restore our brothers. May we understand in word and action that we cannot have justice without peace, and peace without justice. May we long for Christ’s righteousness and truth to reign in our hearts and in our communities this Christmas. I pray that every day we would stop, see, choose, proclaim, and remember the justice and peace the Lord has for his creatures that Hoang has so beautifully pointed out.
If you are going through the unbearable this Christmas, if you are grieving, or alone, sick, oppressed, or waiting on something that seems out of your reach, I pray that you cling to these truths and that you will not succumb to despair. Christ is our peace and he longs to give you unlimited access to himself, if you are willing.
In the face of great darkness, let us worship with great might.
All is well, all is well
Angels and men rejoice
For tonight darkness fell
Into the dawn of love’s light
Sing A-le, sing Alleluia
All is well, all is well
Let there be peace on Earth
Christ has come go and tell
That He is in the manger
Sing A-le, sing Alleluia
All is well, all is well
Lift up your voice and sing
Born is now Emmanuel
Born is our Lord and Savior
Sing Alleluia, sing Alleluia, all is well
I’m celebrating Advent this year which I haven’t done in three years, and I’m so excited! It’s been three years too long. I admit, it feels a little strange and lonely to read aloud in the corner of my room but I believe it’s right to feel this way. Celebration and reflection are always better when shared and although I have a remote group of Believers I’m observing Advent with, it’s being done so in a private, individualistic way. I read my friend Matthias’ advent thoughts yesterday and loved the way I was able to connect with him and worship and it prompted me to share my advent reflections as well.
The first week of advent is a week set aside to HOPE in Christ’s coming. Just as Israel hoped and waited in total silence for over four hundred years for the birth of Christ, so we hope and wait for His promised second coming. Just as Abraham hoped for a son, just as Moses hoped in deliverance for Israel, just as Joshua hoped in a promised land, just as Ruth hoped in the goodness of Boaz, just as Mary hoped in the message of the angel, just as Simeon hoped that he would see the Christ child with his own eyes, so we hope with great expectation that Christ will come.
There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit. And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. And his delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide disputes by what his ears hear, but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; and he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt of his waist, and faithfulness the belt of his loins. The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them. – Isaiah 11:1-9
But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose coming forth is from of old, from ancient days. – Micah 5:2
When God made his promise to Abraham, since there was no one greater for him to swear by, he swore by himself, saying, “I will surely bless you and give you many descendants.” And so after waiting patiently, Abraham received what was promised. People swear by someone greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument. Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek. – Hebrews 6:13-20
It’s hard to hope sometimes. I can imagine there were many a seasons of doubt that the Messiah would ever come. I’ve noticed lately that it’s hard for me to hope when my life is ‘fine’. it’s interesting how desperately I hope when my life and circumstances are uncertain, how it drives my faith to flame and returns purified and longing in holiness for Christ to return. My prayer is that through this celebration of Advent, slowly but surely, my circumstances would affect very little my level of faith, hope, and anticipation in what Christ will do. I love the Puritan prayers and read them often. In the posture of waiting and hope in the coming of Christ I compiled two Puritan prayers of resurrection and second coming to pray this week:
LORD, You left your heavenly habitation to be born of men and suffered and died for my sake, and rose and ascended to Your Father and ours. O my soul, the departure of the Holy One was not a token of separation, but a pledge of return. O Jesus, Your Word, Your promises, Your sacraments show your death to your people and will do so until You come again.
O blessed day of hope fulfilled and gladness—now for the dear Son’s sake has no terrors for me. Your death has redeemed me; your Spirit fills me; your love quickens, moves and animates me, and by your Word I am governed.
O my soul, Trust in the Lord who can never betray that confidence he calls for. Lord, I have trusted you, and waited for you and I have not waited in vain. “I know that my redeemer lives, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh will I see God: Whom I will see for myself, and my eyes will behold, and not another; though my reins be consumed within me.” You will come to raise up my body from the dust and re-unite it to my soul by a wonderful work of infinite power and love. O my soul, the hour comes! I triumph, O Jesus, in all your precious promises as I will one day do in all their performances. After judgment comes peace and rest, life and service, employment and everlasting enjoyment, which is the heritage of the redeemed. O my God, keep me in this faith, and ever looking for Christ’s return.
Adorable Redeemer, You who were lifted up upon a cross have ascended to highest heaven. You, who as Man of sorrows was crowned with thrones are now Lord of life wreathed with glory. Once, no shame more deep than thin, no agony more bitter, no death more cruel. Now, no exaltation more high, no life more glorious, no advocate more effective. You Lord, and Victor, Conqueror—You lead captivity captive and your enemies behind You. What more could be done than you have done! Your death is my life, your resurrection my peace, your ascension my hope, your prayers and intercessions my sole comfort in life and in death.
This week let’s remember the silence Israel endured as it waited and hoped for the Messiah and look at areas in our own faith that we maybe have grown weary of holding out hope. Do we long for His return? Do we hope in His word? Do we trust His plan and timing? O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant! I love this song and as I’ve sung it this past week, I’ve worshipped to that specific line for the first time. I love the thought of His people gathering together mindfully joyful and triumphant because of what Christ has and will accomplished in and through us. Sometimes I can barely sing out at Church because I feel I’m wearing God’s patience thin and because I’m aware of my sin in the sort of prideful way that tends to push me further from Him when that reality could not be further from the truth. My eyes brim at that line. As I wait for and as I hope in Christ, may I draw near to the throne in joy and in triumph. I want to make that line a reality in my life this Christmas.
O come, let us adore Him!
If you celebrate Advent, is there anything extra special you do during this time? What does hoping in Christ look like to you? If you’re willing, I would love to hear what God is teaching you about hope this Christmas.
Growing up is complicated business. This is not a new discovery for myself as I’ve jammed ear buds filled with angst-y music or woken up in the middle of the night with searing growing pains in my legs, or sat on the lawnmower controlling what felt like the only thing in my life: several million subservient blades of grass, wondering if I will ever get to experience the big world out there, away from Greenbrier. I remember days of feeling like I couldn’t fit in my skin the way everyone else seemed to be doing so well, and sensing that the greatest mystery in life was how to blend in but also stand out. Growing up for me was like watching Lawrence of Arabia, a dull and overrated narrative that never ended. Then one day I woke up and realized that you can’t call yourself a kid anymore when you’re twenty-five and I wanted to curl up in the fetal position and cry over my youth. Take. Me. Back.
But it’s complicated. You can’t always know what you don’t have. And so growing up feels hard. But it’s not. But it is. And so much of what you deal with as a kid is just what’s been handed you. And before you can decide what it is, it’s over. The Bible tells us to number our days but I’ve found that hard to do, as most days look a lot like the yesterdays in my adult years, not recognizing that they do slowly change in ways that are harder to see. It’s hard to see when there are no more last days of school or drivers exams and graduations, or first jobs or first crushes or weekends at grandma and grandpa’s. Or summer nights when your friend comes over for the sole purpose of getting the radio flyer out and pushing each other off the driveway down the hill donning bike helmets and glow sticks just because it will make us laugh. Just because.
But I just realized I’ve actually found a very practical way to number my days, “that I may gain a heart of wisdom” like the Bible says. And it’s simple: Befriend someone young and watch them grow. It’s crazy how much kids change physically, but also as they discover more about the world and who they are. Watching someone else change quickly reminds me how fast time is passing and how little of it I actually get. Enjoying that process and that person provides a sort of reflection and friendship that is both fleeting and terribly wonderful. There will come a day when days like today can’t happen but I’m grateful for Maggie and Hannah and the fun, passion, authenticity, and uniqueness they bring to the table that remind me how short and privileged it is to befriend a human in the earlier stages of life. In ten years that age gap will close and I’ll lose those conversations on the first impressions on new experiences in life and we’ll talk about things in calculated ways, which isn’t bad just somehow less precious.
One day we won’t have the chance to talk over each other ninety miles a minute, or listen to Christmas songs before Thanksgiving, or tell stories about almost breaking noses (Maggie), breaking noses (Hannah), or breaking other people’s noses (Me -Jesalyn if you’re reading this, I’m still so sorry all these years later). We won’t get to knowingly agonize over if Katniss and Peeta will ever truly be together, or get to marvel over Maggie’s Texas Longhorn socks and “Jandals” (Jesus sandals)
The hardest part of growing up is grasping the impermanence of the present situation and today I got to remember that. And I’m glad. Girls, please try to never be fully grown up. You’re both so lovely as teenagers, and I don’t feel most people make lovely teenagers. If you ever find yourself struggling with feeling like time is not passing quickly enough like I once did, then just take it on faith from your on-the-fringes-barely-hanging-on-somewhat-culturally-relevant-to-your-people friend Bri: it will be over before you know it and you might even miss it. Love you. Let’s be friends for a long time.
Everyone loves an out of focus picture, right?
While I was working in St. Louis a little over a week ago, I was formatting old SD cards and came across a day pretty close to a year ago where I took one of my best friend’s girls to the park. The footage totally shocked me at how much the girls have grown and of course, I wanted to keep the memory of that day alive and thus, Ella + Avery Go To The Park happened.
If we’re friends on Facebook or Instagram, these little faces will be no strangers to you (they even have their own hashtag! #carsonkiddos). The Carsons are near and dear to my heart as they’ve opened their home and showed me so much love and hospitality and walked through several difficult times with me over the last two and a half years. I’ve had Valentine’s Day brunches, Christmas gift exchanges, movie nights, birthday dinners, pool days, and everything in between with them and even in the craziness of moving and living in Jefferson City, I know without a shred of doubt God has used my little Jeff City family (which also includes my Stonebridge family) to heal, love, and bring so much joy to my life. Anytime I’ve ever visited Jeff City before moving here over the last five years I always left in my car crying from the overwhelming love and security I’ve felt and it’s been the greatest joy to live here and learn how to love on others that well in my own life. But I digress.
Just enjoy the cuteness while I watch with you and tear up with how quickly the time is passing and how much I love those crazy girls!