There have been several news stories in the past few months of well known Christian leaders whose lives didn’t measure up to their teaching. In the past, some of these people had been referred to as “heroes of the faith” and it is always a hard lesson when our heroes turn out to be fallible and undeserving of our acclaim. This sort of person always makes me think of pointillism, when you are far away there’s a grand and beautiful scene but when you get close up it is a chaotic mess of unconnected dots. I have met many pointillistic people in my lifetime, to the place where I am wary of people who seem too “put together”. If everyone is raving about someone I will be found sitting back and quietly observing to see if there is substance to the painting or if it is just a smattering of colored dots masquerading as a completed work. The news about the failings of these well-known examples of pointillism made me ask myself the question “who are my heroes?” I began to think about the people who inspire me and push me to grow in my life and especially in my faith. Of course, there are many heroes to be found in the Bible and I draw inspiration from their lives, as their stories have shaped me (I’m especially fond of Deborah for some inexplicable reason…teehee) but the heroes that came to mind are of a slightly different sort. They are no less impressive than great biblical characters and their stories are just as formative to my life. In fact, I think if we lived in a different time, these heroic tales would be the ones told around tables and fires along with the stories of Esther, Daniel, Ruth, Nehemiah, and Paul. I haven’t told my heroes that I’m writing about them so I’m going to be rather generic but these heroes have names like Jen, Ben, Kerry, Tim, Brooke, Angie, Rick. They aren’t names that would be recognized by the world but they are precious names that I speak with honor and admiration. My heroes haven’t performed great miracles or achieved heights of fame or fortune. What makes them heroic is that they are faithful! My heroes are people who have walked roads of trial and victory with steadfast, hard-won obedience to God. To me, these people are like the Chagall painting above. There are masses of color and shapes (am I the only one who sees Pacman in the top right corner) that don’t seem to fit together well but when you step back you see a life-changing image. There’s something about this type of painting that makes the scene more poignant because of the over-the-top use of color and unnatural shapes. My heroes are riotous messes who have opened their lives so that you can see the beauty of how all the colors have come together into a glorious whole.

One of my heroes left home as a teen and traveled to a distant continent never anticipating that home would never be home again. This hero became someone with great compassion for the wanderer, foreigner, and displaced, offering hospitality beyond measure and loving fiercely those who, like her, needed a mother close at hand. Another hero battles anxiety but refuses to let that stop them from living a life of service and care. This hero is a “behind-the-scenes” marvel who gives without expectation of return and is always on the lookout for more opportunities to serve. I have several heroes who have willingly turned their lives upside down to adopt or foster children who needed loving homes. These heroes have battled unexpected monsters of every variety to give a family to beautiful souls with no one to call their own. I have a hero who found herself widowed when her life was just getting started and has become a source of healing to others suffering loss and a mentor to young women who are trying to find their footing in life. I have a few heroes who lost beloved children before they ever had a chance to take their first breath outside the womb and these heroes have turned their pain into places of healing for others who have walked that path. They have become voices for the unborn and shelters for the wounded childless. I have heroes who have shepherded small churches in towns so tiny you didn’t know you’d been there until you’d left. These faithful servants don’t care if you know their name, they care if their flock is healthy. These heroes have worked multiple jobs because the congregation couldn’t pay them a salary. They have lived in falling-down houses that they have made into welcoming homes because the people they served were more important than the place they lived in. I have heroes who have opened their lives and shared stories of tragic choices they made before coming to Christ. Instead of hiding these stories, like private shame, they have allowed God to use their past pain to lay the groundwork for someone else’s healing. I have a hero who prayed and waited years and years for a child only to face the fight of their life when the cherished long-awaited child was struck by a horrific immune disorder. This weary hero has become a warrior unlike anyone else I’ve ever met, who fights for their child and others who are fighting a faceless monster trying to steal their childhood. I have heroes who have painfully walked away from abusive marriages, heroes who have raised their children alone to preserve those children from greater pain. I have heroes who have fought to rescue marriages on the brink of collapse and have become beautiful images of the restoration power of God. I have heroes who have watched their spouses walk away from a life of faith yet they have continued to live a life devoted to Jesus believing that their faithfulness will bear the fruit of restoration. I have heroes who have been beaten and misused by churches more akin to cults than the body of Christ who have allowed God to heal their hearts and are now paving the way for others to be restored from toxic leadership. I have heroes who wake up every morning and go to bed every night in chronic pain from which there is no relief. These heroes refuse to give up on a meaningful life and they pursue purpose with great intention because they know how much it costs. I could go on and on about my heroes because there are so many of them but I am crying buckets as I think about these precious people and should probably wrap this up before I turn into a pillar of salt.

Truthfully, part of what is so spectacular about these messy images of color and shape that I call my heroes is the fact that if they knew I was talking about them they would humbly refuse the title of hero. These remarkably ordinary people whose lives have such incredible impact would be quick to point out how often they fall and how desperately they cling to the grace of God. That’s one of their super-powers! These heroes, whose names will most likely never make the news, have changed the world one life at a time. They have allowed their failures and wounds, their tragedies and mistakes to become the very instruments that God uses to heal, inspire, restore and renew. They have given God the glory for their victories, never taking credit for themselves. These are the people who I aspire to resemble. Diana, Bev, Josh, Jeanne, Sarah, Andrew, Faythe…ordinary names that belong to extraordinary people. They are daily reminders to me of a God who can take our frailty and make something everlasting. They are living examples of a God who replaces the ashes of our circumstances with beauty, who gives us something praiseworthy in the place of despair. It is in the plodding on, slump-shouldered, gritting their teeth, determined-yet-not-defeated, trusting-what-I-cannot-see faith of these heroes that I see the mysteries of the love of God a little more clearly. They are my heroes; my beautiful, vibrantly colored, disastrously messy, absolutely breathtaking heroes.

A little P.S. I actually love pointillism as an artistic style (just not as a people group).

I remember singing this song when I was little…”O be careful little eyes what you see, o be careful little eyes what you see, for the Father up above is looking down in love, so be careful little eyes what you see”. The verses continued with “ears what you hear”, “hands what you do”, “feet where you go” and finally “o be careful little mouth what you say”. Looking back it seems a little big-brother-esque but the truth is that it is a very gentle admonition that far too many of us have forgotten. God hears, sees and knows how we carry ourselves and what are the true intentions of our hearts. This is a sobering thought!

I have been spending more time than is good for me on social media. I find it incredibly fascinating to hear the differing opinions, points and counterpoints on the wide array of topics that are presented. I can find conversations on everything from the best sushi place in town and who’s ruining Star Wars this year, to play by play rundowns of any sporting event or political move. There’s a lot of fun stuff out there and there’s a lot of frustrating stuff out there but there is one thing that I find disturbing, heart-breaking and even anger inducing…the behavior of the Body of Christ on social media. Please don’t get me wrong, there are many wonderful, thoughtful, challenging, inspiring, courageous things being said by the Bride on these forums. That being said, for every drop of sweet water there are buckets of bitter being poured out and that is where I take umbrage.

In John 13:35 (ESV) Jesus tells us “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”. He calls this a command, not a good idea if you feel like it, but a command “love one another”! He also makes, what I believe is, one of the most important statements of the new testament; “By this all people will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” It isn’t by the working of miracles that we’ll be marked as Christ-bearers, in the life of Moses we see where even Pharaoh’s magicians did miraculous things. It isn’t by our wealth or connections, Jesus said that greatness is achieved by being last and becoming the servant of all (Mark 9:35). Our identity is established by how we love each other.

In the current political and social climate of my home country, vitriol seems to be the only common language. Anger is the emotional go-to and understanding has become a forgotten quality. Civil conversation with people who share different opinions feels like it belongs to a different era, some bygone time populated with soda shoppes, lemonade on the back porch with the neighbors and milk delivered in glass bottles. Oh wait! Milk delivered in glass bottles is a thing again!!! Does that mean that tall frosty glasses of lemonade with the neighbors and civil discourse could also return? Yes, undoubtedly, yes. Respectful conversation, reasonable disagreements and dignified communication are possible. My brilliant cousin, Christy, put it beautifully when she said that we shouldn’t be as concerned with being right as we are with being righteous. When my desire is not to prove my point, impress my internet followers or go viral but instead to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with my God, what sort of beautiful treasure might I discover in the people I interact with? That last bit is from Micah 6:8 and I love how the Amplified Bible illuminates this verse:

“He has told you, O man, what is good;
And what does the Lord require of you
Except to be just, and to love [and to diligently practice] kindness (compassion),
And to walk humbly with your God [setting aside any overblown sense of importance or self-righteousness]?”

Be just! Love and diligently practice kindness and compassion! Walk humbly with your God, setting aside any overblown sense of importance or self-righteousness! Micah tells us that this is what is good and goes on to say that this isn’t a suggestion or a fine, high-minded ideal. It is a requirement! In John 14, Jesus says multiple times that if we love him we’ll keep his commands or in a less KJV vernacular (the Deb Revised Version, if you will); if you love me, simply do what I ask you to do. When you meet people who have walked in love together you will often discover that their deepest love isn’t expressed in grand gestures but in the sweet day-in-day-out kindnesses that have been learned over the length of their relationship. They know that putting the socks in the hamper or giving a few more minutes to vanquish a gaming foe are intimate expressions of love because it’s simply what has been asked. Jesus is asking us to love Him, wholeheartedly, fully, with every ounce of who we are and then to do the same for those around us.

Over the past few months I have written multiple blog posts, tweets, FB diatribes and I have deleted all of them again and again because they didn’t speak with kindness or humility and there was certainly nothing just about my intentions. I have been quiet, not because I didn’t have anything to say but because I didn’t have anything kind to say. I have been so concerned with my thoughts and opinions that I wasn’t giving room for thoughtful disagreement and milk-bottle era compassion. So now I am finally speaking up, carefully, because I need to be reminded that love is to be my language. I thought maybe you could use this reminder too. I need to remember that even if you aren’t speaking in love, I can respond with kindness. I will have the lemonade waiting on the back porch whenever you are ready.

Today after work I helped my mom take her car in for service. On the way home, as I was sandwiched in a long line of cars, I mentioned how irritated I was by the guy driving behind me. He was so close to my tail that, like kids at a high-school dance, there wasn’t even room between us for the Holy Spirit. I took the first possible opportunity to get out of his way and he weaved in and out of traffic at a dangerous pace. As he carelessly flew around another of the cars in front of me, I muttered something about his driving which prompted my mom to say “I always try to put myself in their shoes, what if there’s a kid waiting for them at school or an emergency at home”. It drew my attention to something that I have been thinking about all day…EMPATHY.

This evening I heard the sad news about some friends who are struggling to save their marriage. I had a lengthy conversation with another friend who is trying to help a struggling alcoholic walk the road to recovery. Earlier today, I was on Facebook for a few minutes and I saw a post from a dear friend who has been fighting a long, difficult battle. She was venting her frustration about people who unnecessarily add to the burden. All these things made me think about how many times I have been more concerned about saying my piece than about helping to bring peace. How many times have I weaved in and out of a conversation more interested in the destination than in paying attention to what is being said in the moment? I know that I have been sympathetic, offered a shoulder to cry on and said something trite but have I stepped into the realm of empathy.

All these circumstances led me to think about Job’s friends in Job 2. They do a lot of things right when their friend is suffering: they show up, they stay, they try to identify with Job and then…they open their mouths. That’s when things go downhill fast. They begin to give Job advice and help him understand why he’s at fault for his tragic circumstances. They take what they think they know and they try to correct their friend. In the end we’re told that Job is exasperated by these men and even God isn’t pleased with them. In Job 16 we see where Job, this man who has lost everything (home, family, provision, health, EVERYTHING!), looks at his pals and tells them they’re windbags and miserable comforters. What really jumps out at me is when he tells them that if the shoe was on the other foot he would never treat them as they treated him. Romans 12:15 says “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” it doesn’t say anything about giving advice or sharing your thoughts or even fixing the situation. If Job’s buddies had just continued to be with him, grieving with him, we probably wouldn’t know anything about them. I think I’d prefer to be unknown than to be a cautionary tale about how to add to the stress, pain and frustration of the hurting!

Empathy is a little more than feeling sorry for someone. It puts you in the shoes of the hurting. It is imagining what it might be like to go through a tough time and recognizing that, so many times, your presence is all that’s required. Empathy is the willingness to cry with someone without understanding why you’re crying. It is the patience to wait until your advice is requested to give it. It is choosing to be a silent partner in someone else’s struggle. It is at its essence just being. When the moment comes, and it will come, for you to be an empathetic presence in a friend’s time of need, don’t worry about figuring out what to do…BE. Be present, be quiet, be patient, be understanding, be willing to do research, make calls and go the extra mile, be willing to be forgotten, be gentle, be kind, be self-less, be willing to say “I don’t know” and “I have no words” and be a conduit through which healing and help can flow.

In this current age, where everyone seems to have a need to speak out and be heard, a little quiet, loving empathy could be a life-line to someone in need. Growing up I often heard it said that we have two ears and one mouth which means we should listen twice as much as we speak. Could you imagine what would happen in our society if we started listening more? What if every interaction came with a pause to consider what each person was feeling? Empathy costs very little, you might have to give up some time and maybe lose a smidgen of pride or selfishness. The beauty of empathy is that it allows us to view the world through another’s eyes. This gift of vision always expands our own view of that same world and gives us compassion for people we might otherwise ignore or avoid. Empathy, what an opportunity to make the world a better place, one wounded heart at a time.

This post is part confessional and hopefully part encouragement but it’s all honest and if it lifts someone’s heart then I will be a very happy camper indeed.

Confessions Part II (Some of y’all have Usher runnin’ through your head now…heathens!)

I am 41 and 42 is rapidly approaching. For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a wife and a mother. When I was little I assumed that I would be like my parents; meet in college, get married young and start a family right away. Most of the adults that I knew had a very similar story and I assumed that was the way things worked. Well, little Debbie was sorely mistaken! I never had a high school sweetheart, college came and went with no Mr. Right to sweep me off my feet and the years plodded on with nary a kiss to mark the time. This middle-aged lady can count her total number of dates on one hand, that’s right I said ONE hand. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t loved, lost and lived to tell but it does mean that the loving and losing has been very one-sided. We can gather from my revelations that I’ve never been in a long-term relationship but I said I would be honest so, in the spirit of full disclosure, I will admit that I spent the better part of a decade very deeply loving someone who didn’t love me. Letting my heart go in a direction where it wasn’t welcomed was certainly not the most sound decision of my life but that painful season brought some incredibly valuable lessons and I cherish the things that I learned from unrequited love. For those of you who don’t read carefully I’m going to hearken back to my subtly slipped in bombshell. I have never been kissed, unless you count sloppy wet kisses from my nieces and nephews (that’s right, for the squeamish worshippers among you, I am squarely in the “sloppy wet kiss” camp! Now some of ya’ll have John Mark McMillan running through your head). From that revelation we can extrapolate that there are a lot of things that I’ve never done. I know good Christian girls aren’t supposed to talk about this stuff but I’ve heard that sex can be a lot of fun and I would love to find someone to have, hold and make love to but that’s not the direction my path has taken. I never wore a purity ring and I’m totally cool with kissing before your wedding (the thought of your first kiss happening in front of a crowd is nauseating to me). I wasn’t one of those youth group girls who sat down and made an impossible list of what qualities my perfect man should have and who sadly never met the mythical perfect man (at this point “Breathing” is my entire list). My issue wasn’t that I kissed dating goodbye, it was simply that no one was asking. I grew up with 3 brothers and have always had a lot of great friends of the male persuasion so I never felt like I was missing out. The few times that I have been asked out I said yes because they were great guys with whom I knew I’d have a great time. The biggest reason that I’ve never really dated or kissed anyone or slept with anyone is because, although Jesus is not my boyfriend, He is the most important person in my world. No matter how much I would like to be married, have sex, be a mom, what I really want most is to be who He wants me to be, where He wants me to be, doing what He wants me to do. This is my confession; Jesus is not my boyfriend, He is so much more and I couldn’t imagine a life where I simply settled for what I wanted while missing out on what He wants for me. I genuinely believe that someday I’ll be a wife and in reality I’ve already been a mom, of sorts, to a host of remarkable people but if it’s on my own schedule and not God’s then I will be missing something.

And Now For Something Completely Different (not really completely but maybe a little bit different)

I have read every article on singleness ever written in any Christian publication. I am a treasure trove of do’s, don’ts, statistics and facts. I have watched friends and family have wonderful relationships and awful relationships. I have seen bitter divorces and met friendly exes. I have worried that I’m too old for marriage only to watch a precious friend enter into joyous matrimony in her 60’s. I have worried that I’m too fat only to come across gloriously happy fluffy people who walked down the aisle. I have battled the great lie that I have to be perfect in order for God to bless me with a spouse only to watch friends who are walking, talking disasters turn out to be absolutely perfect for each other. As I have been single for longer than many of my friends and loved ones have been married, I’m often asked by other singles for any advice on how to be a contented single person. I have this small piece of wisdom to dispense to those who might be wondering how to be a fulfilled, successful single person, especially in the church. Are you ready? Are you sure? This is profound so make sure you can handle this!

Singleness sucks!

However, from what I’ve heard marriage can suck, parenting too. Pursuing your dreams can be awful and soul killing. Waiting for God to fulfill His promises can be torturous. The church can be a lonely place for a single person or a married person or any sort of person at all. The world can be harsh and cruel. The good news is that the reverse is also true. Singleness can be amazing. Marriage can be life-giving, parenting deeply rewarding. Waiting for God to fulfill His promises can be thrilling. The church can be a supportive place for a single person or a married person or any sort of person at all. The world can be magical and inspiring. The real truth that I have for you is simply to be obedient. God has a different plan and purpose for each life and if we obey we’ll find ourselves looking back on our path and finding the beauty in each step. It doesn’t mean that there won’t be hard days or confusion or heart ache. When those times come embrace them for what they are, part of being human. Shed your tears, shout, scream, rage and then dust yourself off and obey. There is joy in the obedience. This is the secret to being a successful, fulfilled whatever you are. Enjoy what you are in this moment, be it single, married, childless, widowed, or whatever else, and let God reveal the grace He’s prepared for the next moment. Don’t fall into the trap of wishing away where you are right now pining for what comes next. It is quite likely that where God has you right now is exactly the place He’s using to prepare you for what you’ve been hoping for. The great thing about obedience is that there’s no set way to obey. You simply follow the directions that God gives. Date or don’t date. Homeschool your kids or send them to public school. Eat the last piece of cake or save it for your hubby. Take that financial leap or put it away for a rainy day. All you need to be is obedient! The rest is in God’s hands.

The other day I had a very Charlie Brown sort of a day. I had to do a very hard thing. It wasn’t like mountain climbing or saving a planet from certain doom but it was still a hard thing. For several days I had been praying and preparing for the hard thing and when the fateful day dawned I prepared very carefully. I spent the morning seeking God for exactly how to do this hard thing and I was so concentrated on the hard thing that I absolutely, completely forgot to put on deodorant. Yep, forgot to put on deodorant which I didn’t notice until halfway through my work day! When I realized what I had done (or in this case hadn’t done) all of the apprehension about the pending hard thing fled. It was this little moment of absurdity that just caused all the tension to be washed clean by genuine silliness. I even, like my childhood friend Charlie Brown, found myself saying aloud the magically healing words…oh, good grief. Good and grief, these two words don’t seem to blend together very well but sometimes it is the very blending of these two words that God uses to pull us out of ourselves and inject a little life into a situation. If a little leven levens a whole lump than I think that a little levity can do the same. A sprinkle of grief or a minor frustration or inconvenience can work a relieving amount of good if we recognize it for the gift that it is. Later in the day, once again full of apprehension on my way to do the very hard thing, I spilled perfume all over my shoes. We’re talking a lot of perfume, a lot. It was so bad that when I stepped into my car after the spill it made me tear up and I had to open all the windows. So open the windows I did and laughed at the good grief. Once again, the stress and tension melted away and, although I had a bit of a perfume induced headache, my heart was much lighter because of the condition of my feet. I don’t have chapter and verse to back up my thoughts but I do think that if we would recognize our little mishaps and foibles as the opportunities for grace that they are we would find ourselves experiencing more of the good and less of the grief. If I had taken the lack of deodorant or the powerful floral aromatics of my shoes seriously it could have derailed all the work that God was doing in and through me that day. Accepting that sometimes a preoccupied mind forgets something sorta, kinda crucial or that bottles don’t always behave and keep their lids on perfectly allowed me to be available to what the day was really about. It was just the God kiss, the blessing, that I needed to be able to obey His will for my day and do it with a right spirit. Look for the levity in your life instead of the lumps. Breathe in the perfume heavy shoes that inhabit your world and remember that God has got it all under control and that even a little grief can work much good when He is in it.