(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

On Making Community: Part 1 {Link Up Your Stories}
Sep 28, 2012 01:20 am | Amber Haines


It's always a little work to clear a space in my home, the boys' toys and our paper piles always on the dining room table. Today I moved the piles and straightened out the blue table cloth. I moved the pink bouquet of flowers there and set the table. The sink was full of dishes, but we had our friends over any way while the boys watched a movie. We served leftover soup.  Ten years older than they are, we're privileged to hear as their story unfolds. We are community, so that's what we do: we tell the running story, and we don't want each other to miss a thing.

I've written several times about our community (here, here, here, and here), and often those posts solicit questions about how our community group came to be. How do we remain in such consistent fellowship and take care of each others' needs so well? Often people even want to know the logistics: where? how often? with children? format?

The thing that's hardest to share is how it got started, because obviously the Spirit doesn't leave much room for formulas. How ours began isn't how yours will because "the wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with every [community] who is born of the Spirit" (John 3:.

I'm not sure I can properly explain how we started with so little, nearly at zero. Another couple came to our house for dinner, and we were long-lost friends. They had just moved home from overseas, and they had experienced too much to bear, and we met and it quickly came to tears, so we prayed.

When we lifted our heads and gave the hugs, we said let's do this again next week, and so we did, and then the next week we invited another couple to come. One of our friends wasn't even sure what she believed anymore. Again we just said, "let's pray," so we did. And we loved each other in the zero, how little any of us felt we had to give.



That was two years ago, and I do look back and see such a willingness to be awkward, a desperateness to hear from God, to know He was there in our little. So that's how it started: tears, knees, quietness, then sharing. Once a week was hardly enough then, so we often made a way to get together in our tiny apartment for drinks and eating, our kids running wild in the yard. We played music and games. We sing, always; always we sing, breaking through the awkward every time.

Laying it all bare became pretty easy, so as others joined us, they followed suit. That's the best part, the growing, the quirks of humanness, the loud kids, the way one disliked us at first, but he just kept coming, and we loved him into shape. We studied together and tried to work out the "one anothers."  We share food, time, and money with one another. We never stop telling the story, speaking the truth, to one another.

Oh and we have misunderstood one another and forgiven, and we have loved.



Last night we gathered for a birthday, and the house rattled with competitive story-telling and children and clanking cups. I walked with my camera around, quiet in my skin, recording glory. The other night one hugged my neck and whispered "you are a child of God," so I take these photos and tears well up. My community group is my family, a line that will indeed be going on generations from now.



Who? We call ourselves church, the body of Christ, hoping for a microcosm of what happens in the broader community of our town, in buildings with signs out front, and also in secret places on a global scale. Our children do come in and out. They see us pray, then go watch a movie. If they come in the room, sometimes we shoo them away. If the conversation isn't too mature, we invite them to sit. In the early days, we led the children in song and taught them a little two-minute lesson. Often we give them stern looks and just tell them to be quiet, so obviously we have room for improvement.

What? We eat. We pray. We sing a lot. We encourage one another with Scripture. We spend a season taking turns telling our own stories, too, so we know the context of other lives, why someone might understand things a different way. We always put our hands on each other and speak blessing and make requests of God. We often end with Doxology.

When? At the very least, we meet once a week after working hours.

Where? We always cram into our homes or apartments.We feel like a secret place, but we also worship together every Sunday morning on about the 2nd row back in the right isle at "big church."

How?  Often ragged and tired. Always needy. Usually hungry.

Why? Because we fellowship with the crucified and risen Christ there. How could I not attend a gathering like that?

—






Chapter 5: Waste- Link Up!
Sep 28, 2012 01:05 am | incourage
When you think about what your family throws away everyday, it's probably overwhelming. It has been for Karen and Melissa, who are both sharing with us today on how this chapter on Waste affected them. We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!

Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Via Karen @ The River Into Words}
...Upon arriving back in America (with our cloth diapers in tow), I couldn't wait to throw away some stuff. All the stuff. Oh what freedom was to be had in just throwing any old thing away.

But... I couldn't do it. I'd hold my hand over the trash can and fret. Where will this broken plastic container end up? How long will it rot (or not rot) there? And this sock? It has no partner, no use to us, but when does synthetic fabric break down? Do I just throw. it. away?

This is why Jen Hatmaker's chapter on Waste in her recent book 7 speaks to me. Jen recognizes and calls out the hyprocrisy modern Evangelicals perpetuate: we advocate for the redemption of souls, the regeneration of hearts and lives of eternal worth, while we abuse and misappropriate the earth's resources for our temporal, costly comfort.

Click here to continue reading...

{Via Melissa @ Spouseisms}
Before 'going green' is a political issue, or a social issue, it's a stewardship issue. We, man and woman, were created AFTER the earth and all that was in it. We were given a message to 'fill the earth and subdue it', not 'fill the earth and consume it'. (Gen. 1:28)  Cultivate the earth. As Christians we should consume only what we need, not to be hippy-minimalists-reality-show types, but because we are so crazy-in-love with the One who provides that which we need!
Jen likened God's earth to our kids' artwork brilliantly. "If I don't preserve their creations right now, one day I'll have bare walls because I squandered these beautiful offerings when they seemed so plentiful".

This is not an effortless task. When was the last time you did something of generational-thinking that was simple?

[Judy Harder]

What Your Pastor Wants You To Know
Sep 29, 2012 01:20 am | Lysa




Originally, I planned on titling this message, "5 Ways to Bless Your Pastor." But as I started interviewing Pastors and their wives about this article, I realized blessing our pastor isn't just about doing something for him. Sometimes the biggest blessing can come from what we don't do.

So, I retitled this blog hoping to truly give insight into what our Pastors want us to know but can't really announce from the pulpit.

I'm passionate about understanding how to love and support those who lead my church. But I have to admit, I'm not a heroine in this article. I'm still learning how to apply the Biblical principle of 1 Timothy 5:17-18.

"Elders who are leading well should be admired and valued. Double up on the honor shown them; care for them well—especially those constantly and consistently teaching the word and preaching. For the Scripture agrees, "Don't muzzle the ox while it is treading out your grain," and, "The worker deserves his wages." "

Paul knew that blessing the Pastor was remarkably important when he said these words to Timothy and now to us all.

A wise, incredibly humble Texan Pastor I interviewed yesterday said, "Some would think double honor sounds excessive, but the reality is no one fully understands the pressures on your Pastor at any given time as they carry with them the burdens of many in the congregation quietly and confidentially... This is not work that you can leave at the office, it weighs on you. I believe it is for this reason Paul calls us to double honor."

So, how do we apply this? Here are some insights shared with me from Pastors and their wives all over the country:

1. Do the basics consistently.

The greatest way to bless your pastor is to be one of those faithful people who attends, serves and gives consistently. This gives such assurance to a Pastor and their staff.

One of the most well studied Pastors I know on church leadership said, "When people do the regular basics and never make a big deal about it, the other stuff you do for your Pastor is so much more meaningful. Some people try to bless their Pastor on their terms and they are loud about it. They don't tithe... but hey Pastor-you can use our lakehouse with strings attached."

Let's bless our Pastor and his staff with the basics. Give gifts without strings. And don't toot our horn about doing so.

2. Let go of the unrealistic expectations.

Almost every Pastor I talked to addressed the issue of inviting he and his family over for dinner. While it seems like something we're doing for the Pastor, it usually isn't the gift they need. More than spending time with my family, they need to spend time with theirs. Bless them with gift certificates. Or schedule to take them a meal and just drop it off- especially during those busy times of Easter and Christmas.

Of course, they will have friends who are close enough where a dinner with that family is completely comfortable and refreshing. But let the Pastor and his wife initiate this. Give them the freedom to have close friends and not feel guilty or exclusive in doing so. One Pastor's wife said to me, "I think the thing that discourages me the most is people commenting on my friendships. Using the word clique to describe my friendships rather than just being happy I have a community is hurtful."

Let's bless our Pastor and his family with freedom. They need friends. And it's okay if we're not dinner buddies.

3. Love the Pastor's wife.

One Pastor wrote and said, "Please give my wife face to face affirmation." Another said, "When my wife hears negative things about the church or me-it crushes her."

Another Pastor's wife gave some interesting insight into how to greet her so she doesn't feel like a heel for not remembering everyone personally. She said, "It's hard when people say-Do you remember me? Instead just introduce yourself and remind me where we've met before."

Let's commit to our Pastor's wife the gift of kind words. I know as a female leader, when someone commits to me that they will only say kind and affirming things about me, my ministry, and my family-it makes me feel so safe.

4. Don't assume other people are encouraging your Pastor.

Send those notes of encouragement. Write the email where you tell him what a difference that sermon made in your life. Don't assume they get plenty of positive feedback-because usually they aren't.

Let's commit to not just be someone who appreciates our Pastor in our hearts-but let's let them know over and over.

5. Keep studying how to bless your Pastor.

Become aware of how your Pastor best needs to be blessed and step into that role. Make it a family mission to be one of those foundational families at church who stays out of the drama, seeks to give not take, and stays for the long haul honoring him all the way.

And don't forget the other Pastoral staff who serve so faithfully as well.

It's Biblical. It's good. And while I've got a long way to go, I'm committed to honoring my Pastors with much more intentionality. What about you?

By Lysa TerKeurst

Lysa admits that she, like most women has had experiences where others bump into her happy and she comes emotionally unglued. We stuff, we explode, or we react somewhere in between. Filled with gut-honest personal examples and bible teaching, Unglued will equip you to: Know with confidence how to resolve conflict in your important relationships and find peace in your most difficult relationships as you learn to be honest but kind when offended. Click here for information on Unglued.






A Sunday Scripture
Sep 30, 2012 01:20 am | LJ



Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.

Now we ask you, brothers, to respect those who work hard among you, who are over you in the Lord and who admonish you. Hold them in the highest regard in love because of their work. Live in peace with each other. And we urge you, brothers, warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else.

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

Do not put out the Spirit’s fire; do not treat prophecies with contempt. Test everything. Hold on to the good. Avoid every kind of evil.

May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it.

Brothers, pray for us. Greet all the brothers with a holy kiss. I charge you before the Lord to have this letter read to all the brothers.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

I Thessalonians 5:11-28

[Judy Harder]

On Making Community: Part 2
Oct 01, 2012 01:20 am | Amber Haines




In Part 1, On Making Community, I talk about our small group and how it began and how it has remained in fellowship with such gentleness and care for one another, and I don't feel like the topic is complete without my sharing how this group has changed our lives in very tangible ways. I share in hopes that it will change your life by way of perspective – that YOU can love the needy in your midst.

My husband and I, we have been the needy, and our community group saw us as the perfect opportunity to show Christ's love when the pediatricians sent us hours away from home, away from our children, to take our baby to Children's Hospital. We had little time to even pack up.

When I stepped out of the appointment, our friend was in the waiting room with a cup of coffee for me. When I pulled into our driveway, Emily had been playing with my other boys, and the rest of our community descended on us with bags of groceries and a weed eater. One immediately started doing our lawn. One began to clean out our refrigerator because we would be gone a while, and it turned out to be 2 weeks total. One came with a medical notebook with files and tabs, so I could organize my thoughts and keep up with what the doctors would be sharing with us about our Titus. I still use this notebook every week.

They arranged to care for the boys when family couldn't, and they arranged for strangers even to bring us meals while we were in the hospital. They themselves visited us there. We received dinners for weeks after our return home. They gave us money to help with the insane bills, and they cleaned our house, did electrical work, and fixed a broken chair. It's too much for me. One day weeks after being home from the hospital, I looked up and saw that all the books on a huge shelf had been arranged and organized. I closed my eyes and tried to let it root down in me, how to love and to be loved.

One of the greatest things I learned during our neediest time is that much of what comforted us was so extremely simple and free. The greatest gift our community has given us is the gift of presence. It wasn't those who had a comforting story or anyone that said, "I know how you feel" that comforted us. It was the ones who just came and sat, even with nothing to say. My girlfriends held Titus with that feeding tube attached to the pump, and they treasured him, bounced him around, and treated him like a normal child while I stretched my back and sometimes when I stared blankly into the corner.

One late evening after we had expressed deep concern for our own weariness, a friend called and said he was coming over and had something for us. When we opened the door to him, all he had was a tall cup of water. We have a tap-full of water, but we stood in the kitchen there, and my husband drank every drop, silence in the drinking and peace over our house.

I want to encourage you, especially if you're one of the bajillion of us whose neediness is out of control and you're weary for life in community. I want to encourage you to go BE COMMUNITY for someone else. Go and give what little you have, even if all you have is a tall green glass filled with water. Making community is simply acknowledging the living-water in you and then letting the peace of that stream flow into someone else's life.

Post by Amber C Haines






7: Month 6– Spending
Oct 01, 2012 01:05 am | Angie




Read:
Month 1: Food – Guest Post & Link Up
Month 2: Clothes  –  Guest Post – Link Up
Month 3: Possessions -  Guest Post – Link Up
Month 4: Media – Guest Post – Link Up
Month 5: Waste – Guest Post – Link Up

Spending. This is a topic we can all relate too, right? When you really sit down and look at where your money is going, it's probably surprising. Read below for Jen's takeaway after a month of only spending money in 7 places.

I've discovered reduced consumption doesn't equal reduced community or reduced contentment. There is something liberating about unplugging the machine to discover the heartbeat of life still thumping. Maybe we don't need all those wires after all. Maybe we're healthier unhooked from the life-support of consumerism than we imagined. Is there a less-traveled path through our me-first culture that is more adventurous and fulfilling than the one so heavily trod? One that sacrifices none of the good parts of the story but inspires us to reimagine the sections that are bleeding us all dry?

I think maybe there is.



Watch:

7 – Month 6: Spending, Bloom (in)courage Book Club from Bloom (in)courage on Vimeo.

{Subscribers, click here to watch}

Discuss:
Spend some time looking into how many places you spent money at last month. Are you as surprised by this number as we were? In what areas of your life can you spend less and give more? How can you serve those who are 'marginalized in your own community'?

Share:
Join us this Wednesday as Lindsey from A Dollop of Life shares a guest post on how her spending habits have affected her life. And if you've also shared about this month's topic on your blog, won't you link up with us on Friday or share in the comments? We'd love to hear from you!



Pst, Want to stay up to date on each new chapter? You can now sign up for exclusive emails from Bloom! It's free – just sign up here if you would like to receive emails when new Bloom posts are available.

[Judy Harder]

One of the Key Secrets about Joy: {Free Printable}
Oct 02, 2012 05:00 am | Ann Voskamp


When the preacher rings over, I stand there with the phone thinking about the answering machine.

What worthwhile inventions they are.

And how if I had just chosen to let it go to the machine, I wouldn't be standing here trying to push stubbornly awkward words from my flustered brain to my thick tongue.

Technology can connect or cut off and machines can liberate or incarcerate, and the preacher says he's glad I chose to pick up.

How do you live in a community of faith when a community can fail?







How do you reach out when women can bite?

Or wear maddening masks or talk about lifting Jesus high but let you down or seem all coiffed perfectly round while you're chiseled definitely square? I manage the phone between shoulder and ear and make a bed.

The preacher tells me about the new sermon series. I try to stammer two words in a series that make sense. He asks if I have any books on my shelf that might help with sermon preparation? And I am running my finger along the spine of books and it was last week a woman told me she really didn't like women's events or gatherings and  there are a thousand reasons why the spine of a woman can curve away from her own.

And then he says it, words of a gentle shepherd, while my finger's somewhere near a dog-eared commentary on Matthew:

"You know – I'm looking forward to the day when you aren't the first one out the door Sunday morning."

When you're read like a book you don't have to look for anything else on the shelf. I lean up against the wall and it supports. What do I say?

How many years has he noticed that I've been running, that I've been bent over and heaving with this side stitch of the getting away, that when you don't think anyone will take you, you take the exit door first.

And I turn Sara's silver ring, bent and hammered, right there on my right hand. I've worn it for more than a year of Sundays now.



A gift from Sara, the woman who couldn't leave her house — to the woman too afraid to leave hers. How many times in the last year I had opened the front door and known that ring's encircling, its certain embrace? I had never even met Sara face to face. But you can pray through pixels and you can strengthen through screens and community happens wherever grace makes a safe place. 

Hearts can transplant directly into words and encouragement can save lives.

Sara had laid in a bed, her pain at a 9 on a scale of 1 to ten, and she had sent me words. I sent her sheets and silk pink pajamas and a new keyboard. She had written more words. I had wept over deep barbs. She used vowels and consonants and the balm of the Word to free me. She couldn't leave her house. She was dying.

But she knew it: You only really breathe inside a Body.

She didn't let anything cut her off from the oxygen found in His Body. 

That's what Sara had said: Choose Joy. The universe works this way: you can choose joy like your weather, like your very own sky. Like your very own oxygen. 

I look out the window to the west, to the conflicted October blue laying out over fields and I turn Sara's ring and the pastor waits in this long gentle patience on the other end of the line and wasn't that what Sara had wanted to encircle me: You can have every excuse — but let nothing excuse you from joy.

Excuses to avoid community can right excuse you from joy.

Why is to so hard to let people love you?

How do you let imperfect love get into your imperfect places?

How many times do I have to learn it — The shields you use to protect yourself can become the bars that imprison you alone. 

I had told Sara that and was I ready to feel it: Joy and pain, they are but two arteries of the one heart that pumps through all those who don't numb themselves to really living.

There's no other way to really live. Risking pain is the only way to risk really living — and the only other option is to live safe and dead.

Sara chose joy because she chose community — right where she was, right how she was — even when everything was all wrong. Which was the beginning of turning things right.

And I whisper yes.

I tell the Preacher man yes, I need to stop running scared before I run out of time and I need to risk closeness and one plus one can make a holy community of three.

And after Sunday sermon, I don't run  – I stand in the chapel foyer long, listening, and I let women's shoulders brush mine and we are real and velveteen.  Babies cry. We pass them back and forth. We rock and we laugh and there is no shame in tears.

Is this the messy threefold cord He intends to use to bind up wounds?

And it wraps around me right there —

one ring ringing me awake to every day's silver-lined choice.



~ written for you and Sara with such love, by Ann Voskamp ... some photos by Jessica Turner

Q4U:  Do you think joy is a choice? Why don't we always choose it?

Tell us your CHOOSE  JOY story... here is a safe place to do real community together...







Why I Don't Do Perfect
Oct 02, 2012 01:10 am | Wendy van Eyck



When I was seven I discovered that I was not perfect.

I was doomed to go through life with a flaw.

I was just learning to write. I would create lengthy stories, inscribing them in immature letters for my teacher.

I thought it was a sign of my writing talent that the teacher constantly asked me to read the stories I had written to her. I never thought it was because she could not read them without my interpretation.

I never considered that my spelling rendered my teacher illiterate.

After I was diagnosed with an audio perception problem part of my therapy was to visit a speech therapist twice a week.

Her name was Adele. Adele had slightly graying hair and worked from her home.

She taught me to play word games. She would read the word. I would match the word with a picture. If I got it right, the puzzle could be flipped over to reveal a secret pattern. If I got it wrong, I failed.

I found this really frustrating. I failed often, or maybe once or twice, but it was a lot in my mind.

Perfect children did not need speech therapy and they excelled if they did go.

Why could I not do this? Why could I not be perfect?

I would get annoyed with myself and I would cry in frustration. One haunting day tears were making trails down my cheeks and Adele asked me why.

I told her I was crying because I was not perfect.

If I was Adele I think I may have laughed. I think I may have said, "Oh honey, no one is perfect!"

Instead, Adele told me it didn't matter I wasn't perfect.

She opened her mouth and let life tumble out.

Her heart told me that if I were perfect Jesus would have nothing to do.

That if I were perfect Jesus would not have had to die.

And Jesus died so I could be perfect.

She let me know that Jesus died for me, when I was not perfect, because he loved me, accepted me and cared for me as I was.

He loved the problems and the I-want-to-be-perfect-attitude and the little girl with tears speaking her fears.

I did not believe what Adele said for a long time but I remembered her words.

I knew then that she had not said them just to make me feel better; she had said them because they were beautiful, and true, and could set me free from my need to be perfect.

One day, I found them stumbling out my mouth to meet the wound of another broken person, to bandage up their imperfections with hope and truth.

And they can set you free too.

They can set you free from the need to always be the person you think that others want you to be. They can allow you to relax and just be who you are when you're alone or with someone that you trust.

If you allow yourself to inhale the freedom that Christ offers when you realize that you don't do perfect. And you don't need to.

Because perfect is God's department. And he's got that covered.

By Wendy van Eyck, I Love Devotionals

[Judy Harder]

Making Connections When Your Location Keeps Changing
Oct 03, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong




"Every experience God gives us, every person he brings into our lives, is the perfect preparation for the future that only he can see."

Corrie ten Boom

She gave me a smile with the good news, and naturally I hugged her.

He told us his family was moving to Maine, and naturally I cried.

Shared moments with close friends, right? Not exactly. The person delivering good news was the receptionist at my auto mechanic's shop. The one who moved? He was the kids' orthodontist.

I still don't much care for his replacement.

So now you know my secret:  When it comes to getting attached to people, I lean a tad on the crazy side. Once I feel a connection with someone, it's easy for me to hang on and hard for me to let go. And I wonder: Are you a little like me? Not the crying-because-your-orthodontist-is-moving part. But when it comes to making friends, do you resist new connections in favor of treasured old ones? If you do, I so. get. it.

As a military wife, I get a crash course in making new friends every three years or so. The government finds David a new assignment, our things find themselves a new house, and the kids and I find we need new close-by friends. But you know what? Sometimes I just get plumb tired of looking for them. I'd rather knock some moving boxes off a chair, cross my arms tight, and sink into memories of the friends I already have. They're far away, but they're familiar.

I'm having one of those days when the Lord brings Sara to mind.

Sara, an (in)courage writer and forever joy grabber-giver, was housebound with a disease called Ankylosing Spondylitis until the Lord brought her home last September. While she lived housebound for years, she moved far beyond her four walls. Her exuberant words were hands and arms reaching through screens and building up many. Knowing this, I ask the Lord to remind me of the lesson He has for me through a girl whose lifestyle was opposite of my own.

He whispers it to my heart,

"In her own circles, Sara went out of her way to give what she could."

I say it again to myself,

Sara went out of her way. A woman who had not been able to leave her condo for years – or even open a window to welcome the outdoors – she went out of her way to give what had been given her. Can't I do this?

Yes, but I get stubborn. And I straight up tell this to the Lord,

"Why should I go out of my way to initiate friendships when I've already had to do it a million times and its tiring and awkward? Why don't the people come find me instead? After all, the new people are usually obvious."

And then I hear the answer. For me to receive what Jesus offers, I must open my hands and heart. If I want to find connections close to home, I must do the same. I must go out of my way to do what I can.

True, this sounds counter-intuitive in today's feed-me culture. I know this as well as anyone. In the land of facebook, twitter, emails, and instant messages, it feels natural to stay in-ward.

But wherever God places me, I want Him to use me. So I must go out-ward. I must uncross my arms, rise from my chair, and do what I can to show a welcoming spirit. I must go out of my way to show people The Way.

May we offer smiling eyes, a warm handshake, and a kind introduction to those people God brings in our lives. And with faith and patience as our friends, may we find new connections not in spite of our location, but because of it.

{A little more encouragement on finding friends?}

What You Can Find While You're Waiting on Friends

When You Need Friends {But Have a Hard Time Finding Them}

When You're Not Sure How to Build Near and Dear Relationships

When You Need You're Heart in the Right Place {And a Friendship Manifesto}

Printable Friendship Manifesto

How do you go out of your way to make friends, especially when you don't feel like it? When your circles or location change?

Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies here, there, and everywhere.








Chapter 6 Guest Post: A Realignment of Focus
Oct 03, 2012 01:05 am | Linds


Photo credit: Michael Dales via Flickr

A few months ago, over dinner with a friend, I mentioned the fact that I was lonely. Perhaps lonely wasn't even the right word. Unsettled may be a better description. You see, we had recently purchased a new home, and what to some would be a stepping stone home, to us was our final home. The weird looks I would get when I would say that this was our forever home was nothing new. You get weird looks when you don't have cable or satellite, when you drive old, used cars that are paid off, when you bring your lunch to work while everyone else eats out every day, and when every single article of clothing could fit in half of a closet. We live in such a way that people think we're weird. So it wasn't the weird looks that made me lonely. No, it was the fact that I felt like no one else around me "got it." It was a mild pity party at best, and I was well on my way to being swept into the cultural think tank that told me I needed more than what I already had.

And then I read "7."

To me, "7″ gave me freedom in knowing that sometimes it's ok to be weird. But it went even further than that... it also gave me a realignment of my focus. I realized that my minimalist lifestyle had become so habitual, that I had forgotten the meaning behind the action. I had forgotten that I wasn't just living so that I could hoard my wealth. No, we had lived this way so that we could be in a position to give, and not just give with the leftovers, but fully give from the harvest. Yet somehow, I had lost focus and instead found myself questioning why I saved at all, wondering if the lonely path was even worth the heartache. My dear friend Katie summed it up so well when she said to me: "We [spend] and [spend] and [spend] our bountiful resources that God has lavished on us so that when a big need arises, we can help, but only in a small way. The giving doesn't come remotely close to the gift God has given us."

When I finished "7," I blogged about what it meant to me and what I was learning. I feel like the words I wrote captures my heart more than anything else I could type now:

"...So I began praying that the Lord would really make true the words that were coming from my mouth. That my heart would really break for what breaks Jesus' heart. That my eyes would see what Jesus sees. And what I was reminded of was that Jesus isn't worried about sending my kids to the best preschool, best elementary school or saving for the next house. He certainly isn't worried about my comfort. He is worried about His message. [His message of grace, forgiveness, mercy, love and hope.] And what saddens me is that I was slowly trying to jump onto the bandwagon of being a comfortable Christian. A Christian who went to church, who served at church (Jen often spoke of blessing those who were already richly blessed... my toes were stepped on quite a few times), and then who left the doors of the building and never brought the Savior I know and love to the people who need Him the most. [The least of these became the least remembered.]

I had slowly started believing the lie that [my family] and I need to lead comfortable, safe lives. That we deserved this or that. That I needed a bigger house for ministry or a bigger blog to really speak truth. I believed the lie that missions is overseas, not next door. I've believed the lie that my children should be sheltered from the poor school, the poor neighborhoods, the homeless and the people who live differently from me. I've dug into the scriptures and what I have found is that those who were concerned with the bigger parts of life, the rules and the "looks"... most often missed the mark. It was the ones who didn't have anything who got it. The lady who was a prostitute was the one who was spoken gently to by the Savior. The pharisees? They were most often chastised, for their shallow religion and rules. I don't want to miss the mark. I want to love those who no one else will love. I want to be sold out to the mission of Jesus. Read Matthew 23 and tell me it doesn't rock your world. The ones who were supposed to be the true Christians were chastised by Jesus and given woes that make me cringe just reading."

You see, in getting tired of being counter cultural, I had forgotten that Jesus didn't call me to live a comfortable life, but a life that is spent. Not spent in a sense that I spend all of my money, but a sense that I spend all of ME. I love when Jen said:

"If a fast doesn't include any sacrifices, then it's not a fast. The discomfort is where the magic happens.... When the fast, the death, the sacrifice of the gospel is omitted from the Christian life, then it isn't Christian at all."

I'm called to lose, to lay it all on the line. All for the greater good of the Kingdom. I'm in.

So, I'm back to being weird. To being counter cultural. I'm completely sold out to the idea of living simply so that I can give extravagantly. I'm finally realizing that in order to be completely sold out on Jesus, I have to be ok with the sometimes lonely path. But I'm ok with being weird, especially if it means I'm in the middle of His will. And honestly, there's no better place for me to be.

By Lindsey, A Dollop of My Life







Emerging
Oct 02, 2012 02:30 pm | Angela Nazworth

I've been in a funk. It began about six months ago as a foggy, shell-shocked feeling that I haven't since been able to shake.

I'm not referring to a season of depression or even a lingering state of mild melancholy ... just more or less out-of-sorts.

It makes sense. My funk. After all, 2012 has been an eventful year for me and my family. I lost my job. Found a new one. Moved ... again. And most recently, I began a brand new job (my second one since the layoff).

Even though each event — even the toughest ones — brought innumerable blessings,the sum also has left me feeling spiritually and emotionally fatigued.

Until recently, I adopted a "roll-with-the-punches mindset" and had been ignoring those tiresome, dreary blahs. While I didn't shut God out of my life during the recent changes, I didn't invite Him to step closer either. I felt as though I was too busy to read more scripture. Too busy for encouraging words. Too busy to even take time to plan for the days ahead.

The more I trotted forward at my own pace, the heavier life felt.

Recently, I was reminded that I actually need to fit more into my crammed life. Not more items on my to-do list, but more of Jesus. More of His word. More encouragement from other believers.

The more truth and "good stuff" that pervade my days, the less burdened I feel. The fog has lifted and I am emerging from this sleepy funk.

[Judy Harder]

5 Ways to Love from Afar
Oct 04, 2012 01:20 am | Jessica Turner




For me, the best thing blogging has brought me are friends.

Deep. Authentic. Rich friendships.

The only problem is that none of these friends live around the corner.

They live in California and Canada. D.C and L.A.

One lived in Iowa.

Now she lives in heaven and my heart.

Sara.

Sara, Sara, Sara. The friend I keep talking about these days. We all do.

She would be mortified by all this talking.

Sara was the first *deep* blog friendship I cultivated.

Probably because she took the time to cultivate too.

Nothing was one sided with Sara.

As I pray about this post and seek what would Sara want to share, I think it would be to not fear friendship. Dive in. Don't be afraid. Even if the person lives across the country.

Cultivating friendships can be challenging – and even more so if you aren't in the same town as your friend. Last week I shared 5 ways Sara's in-town friends served her. Today I am going to share 5 ways to love on your out-of-town friends.

1. Call them – This is the easiest one. Just pick up the phone. I called Sara multiple times a week, which allowed me to really know what was going on in her world.

2. Send them mail – I loved, loved, LOVED sending mail to Sara because it was such a huge day brightener for her. Sometimes it was just a card, other times it was a package filled with snacks or something extra. In this day of email and text messages, people love pen to paper, REAL MAIL.

Also, if you know of a friend's need, surprise them by meeting it! Because of Sara's circumstances and limited budget, it was easy to send her surprises that met a need. Being able to meet needs for Sara was a gift for her, but blessed me the giver even more.

3. Read their blogs & comment- If your out-of-town friend has a blog, read it and engage. I always read Sara's blog, but I didn't always comment. In retrospect I wish I had because it would have shown her that I was engaged.

4. Visit - If budget and time allows, plan an in-person visit. I had the opportunity to visit Sara last August, about six weeks before she passed away. The memories of that afternoon together will stay with me forever.

5. Pray for them – Take time to pray for your out-of-town friends. It can be hard not knowing what is going on in their day to day life, but that doesn't mean your prayers aren't meaningful. Even if you don't know what to specifically pray, your prayers will be heard by their loving Father who knows their needs.

How do you love on your out-of-town friends?



By Jessica Turner, The Mom Creative









Herd Jumpers
Oct 04, 2012 01:10 am | Amanda Hill




Humans are inherently pack animals.  I think it's bred into our souls to walk together.  Hillary Clinton says it takes a village to raise a child, and even Jesus chose twelve disciples.  We all huddle together as families and units, and choose folks that think and eat and pray like we do.  When we stray too far from the herd, we are weak and vulnerable.  Wolves surround us and start closing in.  It's safer to stay hunkered down in the middle.

And yet safe is boring.  So I start breaking free.

Growing up, I drifted around amongst the ranks.  I struggled to succeed in music.  I barely made the tennis team.  I waved at the cheerleaders on the sidelines.  I was a debater, a participant in all forms of dorky clubs, and a lover of English.  In college, I was a Resident Assistant in the dorms and hung out with the music nerds.  I couldn't figure out where I belonged as I darted between the herds.  I wanted to find my own people.

Finally, I met a man who would become my husband.  He, like me, was a wanderer.  A strange fellow without a home.  Together, we formed our own pack, and I finally knew the feeling of being a part of something.  And over the years, through blessings and trials of all kinds, I saw that I was a part of something bigger.  I realized that God was there during all my darting and drifting.

I wasn't alone after all.

As I grow into parenthood, I see so much segregation.  There are the church groups, and the private school moms, and the writers.  There are the artists and the musicians and the book club folks.  I still find myself sprinting between them and hope it's not too obvious I'm not a regular.  There are times I put on a frilly top with leggings and bangle bracelets and stay in one group for a while, only to feel the longing to leave and join the ranks of another.  So I put on my running shoes and sprint quickly through the desolate fields between them.  I don't want to be eaten by wolves.  I don't want to be caught in the middle.  I want to be squarely in the pack. For safety.

I wrote a quote to put in my daughter's room, because I think a mother's words are powerful.  It reads:

Be brave.  It's more important that you try new things and fail than to sit comfortably in an easy place succeeding. Don't feel that your failures will ever disappoint me, for in those failures you learn character, and strength, and perspective.

Think higher.  Dream bigger.  God expects you to use your talents to their very fullest.

You are never alone.

Maybe not fitting in is a good thing.  Perhaps in the times we are afraid and vulnerable, running in the wide open fields of doubt, we find our true footing.  We can rest in the comfort that God is our Shepherd. We can look at the wolves and think you can't touch me.  After all, others are running too.  Left and right they dart amongst safe places.  We grab hands with these believers and form our own rag-tag herd.  We laugh.  We pray. And we fail.  But we keep on running.

For we are loved, and we are not alone, that's what really matters.

By Amanda B. Hill, hill + pen

[Judy Harder]

Finding Quiet Spaces in a Loud, Loud World
Oct 05, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman


The faraway jet moves closer. I stop what I'm doing, look up into the cool October sky. I'm careless, though, and instead I gaze straight into the sun, white turns green against my eyelids.



The jet is over my head, I can tell by the heavy loudness in the air. Smarter now, I cup my hand at my eyebrows and look up again. Too many trees block  the way and the jet sounds change from coming to going.

I'm missing it.

But really? I'm 35 years old. I've seen jets before. Why am I still compelled to look, drop everything to find the source of the growling roar?

The louder the sound, the more instinctual my attention.



Cloaked in quietness, the vine climbs higher, inches her way across the white picket fence. These introverted buds whisper their growing secrets only to those who stop to listen.

I'm missing it.

This time, it's true.

The urgent bursts into the room, dramatic and demanding.

The important things whisper, steady and waiting.

I have a lot to learn.

Every weekend in October I'm in a different city. Good things, all good things. But there is stillness of soul and quietness of heart I long to learn. I've been blogging now for almost seven years, writing books for three.

There is a time to speak, and I've been doing a lot of it.

There is also a time to keep silence.

I want to learn a new rhythm of listening. I desperately need to hear God, to hear the shape of my own desire, to confront lingering fear that still smokes through my insides. I'm writing through the learning for 31 days this month, a small bit each day.

31 Days to Hush: Thoughts on Becoming a Curious Listener.

The irony is not lost on me, this incessant talk of listening.

I refuse to feel guilty for the way I learn best. And so I write through the learning this month, the learning of listening and hearing and waiting.

Do you feel the pull to quiet this October?

by emily at Chatting at the Sky








Chapter 6: Spending- Link Up!
Oct 05, 2012 01:10 am | incourage




What if every dollar we earned had a name on it? Kirsten points out this questions this week as we focus on Spending. Read a portion of her post below and then click through to read the rest on her blog. We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!

Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Via Kirsten @ Eight | Twenty-Eight}
Whether I spend money at seven stores or 70, what I feel most convicted about is how readily, and thoughtlessly, I spend at all. Certainly, curtailing the number of stores at which I could make purchases would eliminate a lot of frivolous spending. But the exercise from which I would glean the most is spending only in $1 bills. I would be forced to connect with each dollar, acquainting myself with whose name is on each.

Some of those dollars have my name and the names of my family members on them. God appointed some of them to be spent in care-taking for our needs. "Our enemy," as John Stott said, "is not possessions, but excess." As I count out each one — be it for the luxury  of a new pair of shoes or the necessity of a week's worth of groceries — I will be required to examine on whom I placed priority in that transaction.

Will I choose to indulge myself in luxury or be an answer to the prayers of whoever's name is invisibly-inscribed on those dollars?

Click here to continue reading...

[Judy Harder]

When the Beach House Comes to Life
Oct 06, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp




Although the (in)courage beach house exists primarily in the virtual, sometimes it gloriously comes to life: the (in)RL meetups; online friendships that become face-to-face; a late-summer weekend when this site's authors gather to relax, to know each other better, and to plan ways to bless this community.



For me, the trip started in my driveway with Robin, Deidra, my kids, and a sweet Sorento that Kia loaned me for the trip. Don't let anyone tell you that your online friendships aren't real, that they couldn't possibly survive transitioning to face-to-face. These girls are dear to me and we enjoyed our time together on the road, solving the world's problems, drinking sweet tea, and eating chicken.

Now let's visit the beach house!



We ate chocolate.



We shot video segments for (in)RL. (I can't wait to see the blooper reel.)



We practiced our mad dance skillz.



And because we wanted to participate in a service project together, we worked with Habitat for Humanity. This was my first experience with them and I had some misconceptions. I thought their volunteers were primarily socially responsible 20-somethings; however, we learned that most of those who worked on this house were retired.

They were thankful for the arrival of twenty helpers!



Here's a bit about Habitat for Humanity from their website:

We are a nonprofit, ecumenical Christian ministry founded on the conviction that every man, woman and child should have a decent, safe and affordable place to live. We build with people in need regardless of race or religion. We welcome volunteers and supporters from all backgrounds.

Signing up to volunteer was easy; click here to find out how.





We laid sod and spread mulch and our efforts made such a difference!



The new owner worked side-by-side with us. We gave gifts for her new home and shared hugs and tears.



Then we loaded up our dirty, sweaty selves and drove to Starbucks. Yes, we did. But first we walked next door to Five Guys and put away a serious amount of burgers and fries. We'd worked up a healthy appetite and glowed with the satisfaction of hard work for a good cause. We shone with something else, too. I'm sure the locals wondered about this ragged, smelly crew of joyous women.

The good news is you don't have to travel to bring God's beach house to life.

For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them. ~Matthew 18:20

How can you connect with women in your area? What are some ways can you serve and bless others by working together?

[Judy Harder]

Hands up for the loop-de-loop
Oct 08, 2012 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider

This year, two of my kids are in school. This is not newsworthy, except for the fact that I swore we'd homeschool most of elementary school, and yet here I am, happily (albeit a little reluctantly) sending them to one of those school places instead of learning at home.

In my early parenting days, and for most of my teenage years, I'd have never in a million years guessed I'd want to homeschool. I'm a product of public school, K through twelfth, and never imagined doing anything else.

But when we decided to move overseas, one of the price tags was homeschooling—our Middle Eastern city didn't have any English-speaking schools, and our local neighborhood's school was a bit on the scary side. So I made my peace with the idea of homeschooling, and eventually became sold on all its benefits. There are many.

The point of my post today isn't to weigh the pros and cons of different schooling methods. It's about letting go.

See, I've been utterly in His hands, year after year, with the path God asks me to take; so much so that I'm now more surprised than shocked with life's changes. I could write a book about all the unexpected loops and stomach-dropping dips on the roller coaster ride I'm on with my family, and school has been just one of them. But each one, going through dark tunnels and speeding around the bend with the breeze in my hair, has reminded me that I am not God, and that He Who Is is much more infinitely good, wise, and trustworthy than myself.



Homeschooling—and the lack thereof this year—is more symbolic to me right now than anything. Symbolic of how I like to place on pedestals my ideals, my way of doing things, my preferences, above that which is ultimately best. Of how it's so much easier to focus on the appearance of what's best instead of what's truly the best thing for me and my family. Of how I think I know what I'm doing, but no matter which path He calls me to walk, God will take care of every little significant detail.

When I lean into the wild and wonderful gust of trusting God, I'm held steady by His goodness. When I turn my face to His pleasure instead of the approval of people, I can follow the curves and turns of my path, no matter how steep or sharp or unexpected.

I typically say that we are year-at-a-time, kid-at-a-time people when it comes to schooling because I can make all the plans I want in my heart, but God ultimately determines my steps. For me, to do anything but reevaluate every year is to say I can clearly see our path eighteen years away. I can't. And I've known from experience that He delights in our family following Him like flint into the unknown.

The schooling bit of this post doesn't matter. It's just an example. Being willing to let go is just as faith-full in deciding where to live, how to earn money, what books to read or TV shows to watch, how to relate to people, or whom to marry.



As for me, I want to be ready for anything. To go anywhere, do anything, and join my family into the wild goodness of following our Father. Leaning into change, instead of resisting it, makes the ride that much sweeter.

I can let go of the safety bar as we careen down the hill, or I can hold on for dear life—either way, I'm on a crazy ride. But in one circumstance, I'm reluctant and reticent, and I'm missing out on some of the fun. The other, I'm feeling the sway of every delightful bend.

What crazy ride is God taking you on right now? Are your hands raised in the air, or are you clenching the safety bar?

By Tsh, Simple Mom





7: Month 7– Stress
Oct 08, 2012 01:05 am | Jessica Turner



Read:
Month 1: Food – Guest Post & Link Up
Month 2: Clothes  –  Guest Post – Link Up
Month 3: Possessions -  Guest Post – Link Up
Month 4: Media – Guest Post – Link Up
Month 5: Waste – Guest Post – Link Up
Month 6: Spending — Guest Post– Link Up

During month seven, Jen takes time to pause and pray 7 times each day. She talks about how difficult this month was for her below:

I found this month very challenging and equally beautiful. Evidently, I don't respond well to interruptions, Spirit-led or otherwise.

But these pauses, plus the Sabbath, plus the sabbatical taught me something: My heart craves a slower life. I want people to stop prefacing their phone calls with this: "I know you're so busy, but if I could just have a second..." I want to figure out what this means for our family. We can't live in the barn forever, nor can we pull out of work, ministry, school, community, mission, family, and all the activities that accompany them. But what can we do to cultivate a quiet ranch heart in a noisy urban world?

Watch:

7 – Month 7: Stress, Bloom (in)courage Book Club by Bloom (in)courage from Bloom (in)courage on Vimeo.

{Subscribers, click here to watch}

Discuss:
Do you find yourself  so caught up in the stress of your life that you forget to cover it in prayer?

Share:
Join us this Wednesday as Crystal from Money Saving Mom shares a guest post on how this chapter on Stress affected her life. And if you've also shared about this month's topic on your blog, won't you link up with us on Friday or share in the comments? We'd love to hear from you!

[Judy Harder]

We All Break Differently
Oct 09, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver




The Sunday after we left our church plant, we returned to our previous church home. We immediately began trying out Sunday school classes, looking for a new way to get involved, a new fit, a new family. Soon after, we met with one of the pastors to talk about why we'd come back, and not too much time later, I joined the choir and began attending rehearsals every Thursday night.

When we talked to friends who had left the church plant a few months earlier than us, they were surprised to hear that we'd jumped right back into church after the deep hurts we'd all experienced. "You must be super Christians," they joked.

At least, I think they were joking. They must have been. At that time they knew us better than pretty much anyone, so they knew all the many ways we were not "super" at all. Still, they seemed confused by the way we appeared not to need any down time after our heartbreak.

Our friends were taking some time off from church – time to process and to heal – as were several others involved in our church plant. And who could blame them? What we went through was traumatic . . . and exhausting . . . and life-changing. So why weren't we doing the same thing?

Though our eventual exits took place at slightly different times and with slightly different reasons, we all experienced many of the same challenges and hurts while planting that church. We all poured our hearts and souls into it. We all wrestled with the decision to leave. And in the end, we all left with regrets and heartache. And yet, we all reacted to the end of that season differently.

Even now, nearly seven years later, each of us has followed a unique journey of faith and church-life. Though we started in the same place and went through the same difficult experience, we've ended up (at least for now) on different paths. Going through what we did changed each of our life's trajectory – but not in the same ways.

To be clear, my way of coping wasn't any better than anyone else's. I jumped back into church life right away, but it was years before I felt safe enough to let a church family back into my heart. And even though we returned "home," we never actually fit back into the place we'd spent several years, and eventually, we had to move on in order to move on.

I could spend hours – or, at least, paragraphs – analyzing the whys and hows of all this. I could explain that while some people retreat in the face of crisis, my immediate reaction to trauma – whether it's losing my job, leaving a failed church plant or hearing that a family member has died – is to go, do, act until I can't feel anymore. (Then I fall apart later.) I could even settle into the idea that perhaps I was just a "super Christian" after all.

But really – and those of you who know me will not be surprised by this, I'm sure – the best explanation I can find comes from an episode of a TV show.

In an episode of Burn Notice, the mother of the main character, a CIA operative, asks why her two sons turned out so differently after growing up in the same dysfunctional family (something I've wondered about my own siblings and me, for sure). Here's the response she's given:

Imagine that you're holding on to two bottles. They drop, slowly. What happens? They both break. But it's how they break that's important. Because, you see, while one bottle crumples into a pile of glass, the other shatters into a jagged-edged weapon. You see, the exact same environment that forged older brother into a weapon crushed baby brother. People just don't all break the same, Mrs. Westen. Just don't.

We all break differently. We hurt differently. We react differently.

In the case of my friends and me, none of our bottles was broken better than others. If pressed I'd say that all of us crumpled into piles of glass; our piles just looked different. Because even though I dove right back into one church after throwing in the towel at another, it was a very long time before I actually healed. I was walking wounded, hiding my broken and bitter heart as deep as I could, all the while getting involved and finding a new place to belong on Sunday morning.

My particular (or peculiar, depending on who you ask) response to leaving our church didn't indicate my level of heartbreak any more than baking casseroles or sobbing all day long indicates a person's level of grief after a death. In the moment of crisis, every person will feel differently. And even if two people share some feelings, their responses to those feelings will be different, just as the long-term life change they endure as a result of that crisis will be different.

I think this is a lesson we all need to learn. Because even though you may never plant a church or go through the same difficult experiences I do, one of the few certainties of life is that disaster will come. And when it does, we might react differently than those around us. We might break differently.

And that's okay. God made each of us unique, so it really can't be helped that we all feel, react and break in different ways. That's why we must give each other grace when we go through tragedy together. My pain will look different than yours – and that's okay.

Have you ever struggled with the way others have responded to a shared experience? Have you noticed that we all break differently?



By: Mary, Giving Up on Perfect







A Lonely Heart

Oct 09, 2012 01:10 am | Mandy Fahrni


Lonely. I hate that word. Such a sad word for sad people. But sometimes, as much as I'd like to deny it, I feel lonely.

My husband and sons fill my life, and I love that God chose me for them and them for me. Yet still, deep inside, my heart longs for a friend. Someone in the same stage of life with the same struggles, outlooks, interests. It's not too much to ask for, right? Just one close friend?

God had a lot to say about friendship, so my heart asks, "Why not, God? Why not a close friend for me?". I've read often that if friendship seems to elude you, then God is seeking to draw you close to Him. Maybe.  Maybe. But still, isn't there just something normal and natural about being human and having another human to relate to?

In these moments of loneliness, I think about my boys. I think about how sad I would feel if one of my boys came to me and said he was lonely and didn't have any friends. My heart would break, and I would feel such compassion and love for him. I would want to make it right and take away his hurt.

God feels that for me. He responds like a parent because He is one. He longs to take our burdens (1 Peter 5:7), to draw close to us (James 4:, to take care of us (Matthew 6:28-30). He responds like a good parent, because that's exactly what He is. A perfect Father.

Sometimes in the midst of a struggle, be it loneliness or worry or fear, the only thing we can do is rest in God. When being proactive and fighting just isn't in you, just rest. Rest, knowing that God sees you (Genesis 16:13). Rest, knowing that God wants what is best for you (which is ultimately for His glory) (Romans 8:28). Rest, knowing that tomorrow is a new day and God is compassionate toward us (Lamentations 2:22-23).

That desire for friendship will still be there. A night out at the movies with a close friend will still sound wonderful. But your heart will be comforted knowing that you are loved, cared for, protected by the Almighty One who sees you.

By Mandy Fahrni, At Home in the Bronx