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A Little Update

I got a job.

If you haven’t heard, I have officially joined the City of Refuge team here in Columbia, Missouri. In a role, in an organization, and supporting a cause that I am growing more and more passionate about (especially the more that I learn about it).

It happened rather quickly- but even in the rush, the timing felt sort of “perfect”. It wasn’t a job that I was exactly looking for. In fact, I had told myself that if I ever went back to working full-time, it would have to be a role, an organization, a cause that I could be passionate about.

We work hands-on with refugees in a multitude of ways from a multitude of countries. In my month and a half on the job, I have already met so many kinds souls – from the staff, to the refugees, to the many who donate, to the board of directors, to the volunteers. People from all over, from all different backgrounds – giving of themselves for the sake of others. People giving their time, their resources, their dollars, their skills.

It is a beautiful thing. A truly inspiring thing.

I didn’t hear about the job and immediately apply. It took a lot of praying. A lot of prodding (from my husband and a few others). Honestly, it took courage – having to deliberately ignore my fear of failure and rejection. It meant stepping into the unknown, embracing yet another identity shift… and, probably most challenging: it meant figuring out childcare.

I do believe that it truly it could not/would not have happened without the Lord intervening/moving/preparing our family and me in ways I probably won’t ever know about.

A Great Multitude

One night, while I was praying about this particular job in this particular organization, Revelation 7 came to mind. …A great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages…

This, I felt from Deep Within.

This is an image of Kingdom of God. This is what I try to pray with my daughter every day – Your Kingdom come, Your will be done… on earth as it is in heaven. A gathering of people from various nations, tribes, tongues here in central Missouri. A multitude of people – who look different, sound different, have vastly different experiences, traditions and cultures – people who have as much to teach me (and probably more) than I have to teach them.

This is it. The cause, the purpose, the reason to rejoin the workforce. Perhaps the beginnings of a foggy reflection of the Kingdom of heaven – here on earth.

I don’t know much yet, but I’m excited to learn and grow into this position. I’m excited to work with the staff, the volunteers, and the refugees. I’m eager to put my past experiences and my skillset to good use as we dream about possibilities and meet the real, tangible needs of our neighbors.

What do you all actually do?

Already, in my short time on staff, I have grown alarmingly aware of how much I take for granted. My compassion has grown as I awkwardly fumble through gestures that hopefully span the language gap in order to communicate to the woman across from me that the medicine she is holding shouldn’t be used on small children.

When I remember what it’s like to be in a foreign country, where nothing looks, feels, sounds, smells familiar… or when I haven’t been able to speak the language to ask a simple question to address my most basic needs. And then to imagine being in that circumstance, not because I want to be, but because I have to be (did you know that the very definition of a ‘refugee’ means to have been forced to leave their country in order to escape war, persecution, or natural disaster?). To be in this new country permanently, away from the culture, the traditions, the food, the people that I love…

Can you imagine?

Can you imagine relying on your 6-year-old child to translate for you because they picked up the language faster? Or having your car break down and not knowing who to call or what to do (let alone learning how to drive in America, in the first place). Can you imagine getting a piece of mail that says “IMPORTANT: MUST READ” and not knowing that you can actually throw it away? Imagine going to the doctor for any reason when you don’t speak English.

This is the reality so many of these beautiful humans are living. Pile on the amount of trauma that occurs as a person works through whatever tragedy brought them here. Imagine the isolation you might feel, the lack of connection with other people.

And then imagine what it might be like if someone reached out in true kindness. If someone helped you navigate the language barrier. If someone spent time in your home to teach you English. If someone took you to your doctor’s appointment, showed up at your car crash, enrolled your child in the complicated school system, gave you clothes to wear and food to eat.

This is what our team is actively doing in our community. Building relationships. Meeting needs. Living radically and selflessly. They rock.

I’m sure you’ll hear more from me as we continue embark on this next adventure. Maybe you’ll consider partnering with us – even if you live nowhere close to mid-Missouri!

Baby K Update

And because many of you are probably wondering, we still have K. She just turned 2 and makes us laugh constantly. She’s smart, beautiful, and a joy to live life with. We haven’t been able to officially adopt yet, but we hope it will be soon….

As far as childcare goes- since Kel has been rockin’ the real estate world, he has been afforded the time and flexibility to be on full-time dad duty as we navigate our family transition. It has been a really sweet time for dad and daughter to have these days to bond. She also just started 2 mornings at a local pre-school and is going to spend another morning each week with her Aunt and two cousins – we are so so grateful!

And as always, we covet your prayers! For transitions, new beginnings, adoptions… whatever else that comes to mind.

Walking back from visiting “Buddy” – the neighbor’s horse (actually, if you ask K, every horse is Buddy ).
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A Forgotten Humanity

I’ve been wondering lately if Jesus would have voted if He were an American citizen.

I’ve been wondering if or how He would partake in the rhetoric that has become so normalized. Humanity at its finest. Blame. Accusation. Defense. Disbelief. Mockery. Meanness. Entitlement. Superiority.

Perhaps it’s a classic case of just needing to look at my 1990s W.W.J.D. bracelet… but, I really have wondered what role He would assume in our current culture. Because that has some bearing on how, when, or if I do (or don’t) get involved. It’s as though politics, pandemics, movements, and impossible-to-please-everyone decisions have stripped people of their humanity. And we have forgotten that on the other side of a policy, or a protest, or a political party, or a television screen, or a social media post, or a decision we don’t like… that there are real people with real souls.

It feels somewhat ironic, given the causes (or people) we are often fighting for.

Oh, I thought the Bible said…

But somehow, our […hatred, harsh words, thoughts, opinions…] are justified. As if we are living as though Scripture says, “Value others above yourselves…except if you disagree with them, if they offend you, or if they seem ignorant. Then it’s okay to disregard them, speak poorly of them, and assume you are better than them.”

Or, “Love only the people who are just like you, the ones who you agree with, get along with… you know, the ones who look like you, believe like you, vote like you, and act like you. It doesn’t matter if you love anyone else. Those other people, they aren’t worth saving or caring about.”

Because we are the ones who are “right” and that begins to matter abundantly more than the people. Whether it’s our stance, our prejudices, our experiences, our knowledge, our understanding of the issue at hand, the way we are personally impacted… somehow this provides us with a “truth” that excuses us from kindness, grace, and love. It becomes perfectly acceptable to think or make generalized (and sometimes atrocious) statements about groups of people and/or individuals.

How do I be a Christian right now?

It’s been a baffling season to live in as a Christian. Maybe for you, too.

I wonder if I’m not doing enough, or saying enough, or being enough – or maybe I’m doing too much. I am often in disbelief that I can claim the same identity as another (a child of God) and yet when we are both looking at a square, I see a circle and they see a triangle. How can this be? What am I missing?

I’ve struggled with the lack of unity that grows more apparent each day. Is there any room in this world to disagree on politics, or the economy, or how to stand up against injustice, or decisions that are made… but still hold one another in high regard, to show honor, to heap blessings upon the other? Is there any thought of (or desire for) harmonious living?

I have been overwhelmingly challenged lately to check my heart, ever-aware of the judgment and disbelief that so readily surfaces. “I can’t believe she would say that… or believe that… or do that…”, “He is such a…”, “Don’t these idiots know that…?”

I am ruined

And when I look deeply within, I am ashamed at what I encounter. A spirit of pride. A feeling that I am “right”, and that I know “better”. Criticism, doubt, anger. An inability to see people as image-bearers of the Most High God. Woe to me…I am ruined!

For me to forget that I am just as human, just as fallible, just as broken… just as in need of saving grace as the person posting to my right or to my left. How dare I? How dare I forage for the ounce of disagreeableness within you while I carry a hefty load of filth within me (a load that I conveniently choose to ignore, or dismiss as ‘not as big a deal’). How mortifying that I might condemn you, but be so unwilling to admit that I could be wrong…

Have I forgotten what I have been saved from? Have I lost sight of the depth, the weight, the gravity of my sin… ? Do I remember that blood was shed to set me…us…free? Have I forgotten the Gospel?!

What a disgrace to think that I might know you well enough to know what you have been through and how that shapes your worldview. What ignorance for me to assume that my way, my understanding, my perspective is right or truth. What pride, when I refuse to really hear you or care for you, even if we don’t see the world in the same way. What shame, that I am willing to judge your actions when I cannot possibly know what decisions you have been forced to make.

I am sorry.

Will you forgive me? Will you forgive the harsh or insensitive words that I have spoken or written? Can you somehow put my grossly judgmental thoughts in the past and trudge through our differences to find a place where we can see each other as humans once again (or, maybe, for the first time)?

Can we find the time and space to care about each other? To know each other? To move past the assumptions and exist in a world where we both strive to find common ground?

And, Jesus, will You forgive me, too?

As I consider You, the Triune God who is sovereign in all things, I fall on my face… undeserving of your grace. I bring pride, selfishness, self-righteousness, and, often, an unwillingness to love my brothers and sisters – the ones You call sons and daughters. But Lord, if I know anything about Your call on my life, it’s that I cannot claim to love you and not love others. You even ask me to love my enemies… the people who laugh at my failures, the ones who smile at my pain. The ones who have caused me deep pain. The very people I want to hate.

So Father, teach me how to love. Show me how. Help me do it when I cannot on my own. May You find me willing, ready, and actively seeking to show Your love in this world, during a time when humanity feels so divided…. so…. forgotten.

Yeah, but he’s still a…

And Lord, help me to actively confess my pride, my judgments, my condemnation of others and their opinions/actions/words when it surfaces. Help me to do so, even when I feel under attack. Even if I have to do it over and over and over again.

There is no world in which I believe You condone those thoughts, those accusations, those words toward or about others – regardless of what they say, write, believe, or do. Show me how rid myself of any excuse or justification of sin or ill-will toward others. To live with the type of humility that Christ did. To be a person who, in addition to love, brings joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control to those around me. Give me wisdom on how to act, think, and speak in today’s world.

God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

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I Will Never Regret Following

We waffled a bit on if we should even do foster care. On a random Sunday, on a random fall day, I got in the car after church and told Kel I felt like it was something we should do. That same day, we inquired with our county and eventually nosed ourselves into the foster care system. I wish I could say that it had been smooth and easy. Maybe it’s better that it’s not. It weeds people out.

Despite the perceived flaws, we did walk away from our training certain that if we were trying to adopt a newborn, foster care wasn’t the route we should be taking. They did a great job of reiterating, over and over again, that babies are rarely (if ever) adopted by their foster parents. We heard story after story of heartbreak – foster parents in the process of adoption only to have a grandparent show up out of nowhere and take custody of the child. Basically they were saying: Don’t get your hopes up, people. This isn’t about you building up your idyllic family. This is hard. This hurts. This never turns out the way you think it will. But these kids need you. Will you let them in? Will you love them? Will you champion efforts to help kids be reunited to their biological families?

We decided to keep moving forward. As Kel and I talked and prayed, our hearts grew excited about the prospect of being a safe home for a small child, even if only for a season. We looked forward to the relationships we might have with biological parents, we looked forward to helping make reunification happen. We knew we didn’t know much, but we were willing to jump in. Our steps were deliberate. Slow, but deliberate.

We began the initial inquiry in October of 2018. We didn’t hear back until right around Thanksgiving (after reaching out a few more times). Our training began in December. There was some paperwork to turn in, fingerprinting, background checks. And then there was quiet. Eventually a third party reached out to complete our home study. A woman came out three different times in May and asked us lots of personal questions – we locked up our chemicals and covered our outlets. On July 12, 2019 – this same woman informed us that our home study was approved by the county.

The silent treatment from the county dragged on, so we began to get the impression that foster care wasn’t going to happen. Everything was turned in, the home study approved…but still nothing. Children, in any capacity, didn’t seem a likely part of our future.

So, I moved on. I had to. I went to California to help my family out. I remember my brother and sister-in-law being very concerned with how this would interrupt our foster care journey. I assured them that it was fine. Given our track record, nothing was likely to happen. You might say I had given up.

No words can explain the shock we felt when we discovered that we were, indeed, certified foster parents… on the same day we were asked to take in a baby. On August 29, 2019, I received a text that would alter life as we knew it. Are you interested in a placement? Oh, by the way, your certification is in the office – dated mid-July.

Maybe you can understand why we were so humbled and blown away by the amount of support we received from our community, our friends, and our family to help us prepare for the arrival of a tiny newborn in the matter of a few hours. We literally had nothing and knew nothing.

I’ll never forget the frantic calls to my mom and sister-in-law: Hey, we just got asked to take a baby… yes, somehow we’re certified. What if I don’t come back to California in two days- how bad would that be? Or the texts to my neighbors who had baby girls: Hi, um, do you have any tiny newborn clothes or baby things we could use… immediately? We don’t even know what we need, but if you think we need it- we probably do.

I’ll never forget the mad dash to Target – attempting to pick out the best diapers, formula, wipes and carseat without any prior research. We waited near the check-out with a full cart… waiting for the text that said – yes, come get this baby girl. We wrestled with our newly purchased carseat in the parking lot, too stubborn to read directions, too anxious to process what was happening. We may have exchanged sharp words as a result (I can’t really remember that part…).

When we accepted her placement that morning, there was little hope of this being a forever home. Because, adopting a newborn from foster care rarely happens. If I knew anything, it was that. But, from those first conversations with case workers, adoption had always seemed plausible. “You all are a concurrent home, right?” [That basically means when we signed up for foster care, we had also chosen the path of possibly taking a child in forever, in case reunification wasn’t an option. In those instances, it helps limit the transition a child has to go through and provides them with some continuity.]

It’s been exactly one year since we picked Baby K up from the county office (which feels a bit unbelievable to me!). As the months have passed, we have waited… and waited… and waited. There have been shifts in her case that have felt momentous, but they only lead to more waiting.

Sometimes it’s hard to hope. But it’s just as hard to imagine her being anywhere else. And while I have often wondered what it’s “supposed” to feel like to be a mom, I know that I am hers. In my darkest moments, I find myself in the cage of worst-case-scenarios – trapped by the certainty that we will be in this sort of purgatory forever. The assurances from lawyers and case workers can often feel empty.

Because this is what I signed up for. A safe place for a child, for a season. No guarantee of permanence. No promise of forever.

But then you’re given a 5-pound baby and you keep her alive. Over time, she changes you. You get introduce her to the world. You celebrate her victories as she proudly learns to roll over, crawl, stand up on her own, take her first steps, and scream “da-da!”. She reaches out for you when she cries, she holds you tighter in a room full of strangers. You put her to bed, night after night – yours is the last voice she hears each day, and the first each morning.

You are her parents – the only ones she has ever known. You are the ones teaching her about life.

You love her – more than you ever thought possible.

And yet, you still might be asked to let her go.

Let her come in. Then let her go.

To be faithful with what we are given each day. In this case, the sweetest and craziest of babies.

The most selfish parts of my heart hope I don’t have to know that pain, but it’s a reality I do not control.

Regardless of the outcome, I will never regret following the gentle urging that spiraled us into the foster care system. I will never regret saying yes. I will never regret the waiting. Because, ultimately, even the waiting means more time with her. More precious time… time that should not be wasted.

And as I reflect on the last year of becoming instant parents, I can only plead with you: Follow the promptings, friends. The small voice that pleads with you to love and know God more…and to love and know His people.

No matter how crazy. No matter how scary. No matter how much it MAY hurt. No matter how inconvenient. No matter how much it may cost you. No matter how imperfect the system. I think you’ll be surprised by what (and who) you will find when you pay heed.

Simple obedience can sometimes lead to the greatest of blessings. Whether it’s a woman who stays for a few weeks, or a baby who stays for a year (hopefully more)… a random conversation with a random stranger, a small act of kindness that feels out of the blue to the most unlikely of humans. Faithful walking. It is our calling.

These are the moments that change us. The moments that reflect Jesus to those around us. Moments of great sacrifice, generosity, selflessness… as we learn to get over ourselves, our needs, our privacy, our desires… and walk more faithfully.

Mishpat [a Hebrew word for justice in the Old Testament], then, is giving people what they are due, whether punishment or protection or care… God loves and defends those with the least economic and social power, and so should we. This is what it means to ‘do justice’.

Tim Keller, Generous Justice

Disclaimer: I can’t possibly know what is needed or even supposed to happen on county side of things in the foster care system. I can’t possibly know the amount of work or time or frustration that county workers experience on the day-to-day (especially as they deal with impatient people like me). All I am writing about is our side of the exchange and how it impacted us. My goal is not to bash the foster care system or any individuals we have worked with-I know we don’t know what it’s like on their side of it and the challenges they are up against. I am ultimately so thankful for it/them!

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To all the Women in the Midst of the Infertility Battle

“We’re pregnant!”

Kel and I looked at each other in amazement. “Were you all trying?”

“Yes, sorta!”

It’s still incredible to us that people can decide to have a child, or another child, and… voilà! This isn’t a luxury that we have. And, in reality, probably no one really has it – it can just seem like it.

We have been so honored and beyond blessed to care for Baby K the last (almost) year, but there’s the constant nagging that reminds me that she is not “ours” – she’s a ward of the state of New Mexico. We are stewards of her little soul. We have no control if she stays or goes. I know that no one really has control of that with their children… we all just like to think (or hope) we do.

When we first got K, lots of people commented that we’d probably get pregnant now that we had a newborn living with us. Because, that’s what always happens. The irony of life – the infertile couple gets a baby placed with them and then, magically, find themselves pregnant. A part of my heart longed for that to be true. Not because K wasn’t enough, but because I loved the idea of her having a little sidekick to grow up with, if we were fortunate enough to keep her.

I haven’t spoken or written much about infertility in a while. Partially because it feels a little cruel to the women who are still dealing with it in very real ways while I bounce a perfect-to-me baby on my lap. I have instantly been ushered into a world of mom-hood – the world where I can easily engage in conversation with the lady holding a baby in line at the DMV because I know we have something in common. I can now relate to the utter exhaustion, day-time nap challenges, and blow-outs.

But every month, I still face the same disappointment that I did before K came along. It doesn’t last as long, and there’s no time for it to be all-consuming, but I’d be lying if I said it had vanished completely. As K approaches her first birthday (in ten days!) and hopes of adoption continue to grow, I can’t help but think a second kid might be nice… I can’t help but want her to have a constant sibling companion during childhood.

Maybe that makes me selfish or ungrateful. Or maybe it just makes me human.

But, for us, a second kid means a bit more than a perfectly-timed sexual encounter. Maybe it means thousands and thousands of dollars. Or the potential heartache and ups and downs of the adoption process. Or the possibility of adoption through foster care – if/when reunification with biological parents doesn’t work out (which is usually the initial goal). Or medications, procedures, and lots and lots and lots of waiting, wondering, and hoping.

I think it’s easy to forget those who struggle with getting pregnant. Easy to think, “Oh- she has a foster baby now, I’m so happy for them – the struggle is finally over!” Or, perhaps, if we stop talking about it, all of that stuff will just go away.

I imagine the pain of infertility might have lifelong affects. A mourning of never carrying a biological child in your own womb. A letting go of something your body was created to do. A relinquishing of expectation and desire.

But, I also believe there can be extraordinary and beautiful experiences along the way. Ones that could have never existed otherwise. Ones that cause me to be grateful for the years of infertility, ones that leave me astonished by God’s sovereign plans – far better than anything I could have dreamed of myself. For us, one of those things has been K – placed in our arms at 6 days old. I would wait for her all over again. Every tear was worth it, for before me each day I have the privilege of watching the most charming of personalities, discovering both the world and herself with awe and wonder. She is strong, smart, and silly.

[K, I have marveled lately about the Lord’s perfect timing of your appearance in our life… if I hadn’t been home from California for a short visit, if my boss hadn’t been moving, if your cousin’s leukemia treatment hadn’t been deescalated, if your dad and I hadn’t been living in New Mexico at that exact moment in time, if we hadn’t somewhat randomly decided to jump into the foster care journey. You have been the most surprising and wonderful gift – more than anything we could have asked for or imagined. You, I am certain, were meant for us and we were meant for you. You are undoubtedly our daughter, whether or not genetics declare it so. We are made better by you in our lives. You were worth the wait. You have been deeply wanted from the moment we knew about you, and fiercely loved from the moment we saw you.]

It’s incredible to me that the Lord can give us a child, or another child… and voilà! God always shows up. He proves Himself faithful in the craziest, most surprising ways. And He will remain faithful, even if Baby K doesn’t get to stay.

To all the women in the midst of the infertility battle – I haven’t forgotten you. The pain is real. Don’t be ashamed to feel it, spill it, or just be in it. But don’t lose hope in the midst of the pain. Brighter days will come – even if they look different than what you thought you wanted. Even in the midst of the negative pregnancy tests, the unwanted monthly visitor, the inconclusive tests, the miscarriages, the ups and downs… His plan for your family (however small or large) will be perfect. There can be hope and joy, even in the mourning.

Press on. Into the unexpected and, maybe, even the undesirable. Who knows what awaits us there. May we continue to be surprised by a God who is good and knows what we need and want far better than we do.

“One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.”

André Gide

“By clinging to what you know, you may miss out on what you have yet to discover.”

Duffy & Maggie Robbins
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What do you want to be?

“When I grow up, I want to be a vet.” – 7-year-old me.

“I’m gonna be a singer.” – 13-year-old me.

“I think I just want to be a wife and have kids.” – 19-year-old me.

It’s funny how time and circumstances change things. The things we wanted (or thought we wanted) are no longer plausible. When I began my senior year of college with no significant other and no prospect of romance in sight, I realized my ambitions of wifehood and motherhood might have to be put on hold for a bit. Years, really. And when this happens, you adjust. You have to.

The first few years I worked full-time at camp, guests would often ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” … only it took on the form of, “So, what do you want to do after this?”. I knew what they were really getting at. No one actually works at camp as a professional career, so what do you really want to do with your life?

The longer I stayed at camp, the more I realized that it was becoming a career. I was a “Camping Professional”, all while I was waiting for the whole wife thing to come to fruition. But when you don’t get married until you’re 30, you realize that your aspirations have to change a bit. And then, when you can’t get pregnant, they continue to have to change. You’re a working woman now. A true professional. An executive. A leader. You go back to school and get your Master’s. You value success in a bit of a different way. You even buy new clothes to match the new felt identity.

It’s funny how all of those dreams, even as a child, get tangled up in identity. Being a vet, a singer, a wife, a mom…. or a doctor, a teacher, a realtor, a pastor, an accountant. We “are” these things. It’s what we do, and it so easily becomes who we are. It is how we attempt to define ourselves to others, how we attempt to know others upon our first meeting: “Nice to meet you- what do you do?” It’s where we often find value and purpose. We gauge the successfulness of our humanity based on what our jobs are…or aren’t.

And when things don’t pan out the way we think they might, sometimes an abrupt shift of expectation is necessary. You find out that your foster care application didn’t get lost and you bring home a 6-day old baby a few hours later…in an instant, you’re a mom. A pandemic happens and working moms are suddenly stay-at-home elementary school teachers. Or parents who happily send their kids away to school in August are staring into a new world of homeschool and a variety of curriculums. Or people who have devoted their lives to their work are jobless, fiddling their thumbs, and not sure which direction is the next best move. Or people who are normally in an office surrounded by co-workers are now working remotely, in a kind of lonely solitude.

As I have processed through this identity crisis in my own life, I have realized I am not alone in the storm. So many of us are reeling with uncertainty and confusion, so many of us are facing realities that, six months ago, we could have never dreamed of. I am watching my husband go to work every day while I take care of a baby. A wife and a mom. It’s what I wanted… wasn’t it?

But somewhere along the way, things changed. They had to. And they will continue to morph. That’s just how life works.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s a question I asked my nephews, just the other day. I expected them to reply much as I had as a kid… and they did. But if my 36-year-old self were to be asked that question? I’d like to answer much differently.

When I consider being, I want to be someone who knows Jesus and lives my life in a way that reflects that, no matter what I do. Someone who seeks His interests, not my own.

Whether I’m a camping professional, or unemployed, whether I’m a wife, or a mom. When I change the answer to this question, answering the “What I do” question becomes a lot less significant. What I do matters significantly less than how I do it, or who I am in the process of doing it. When I answer the question this way, it doesn’t matter if my career changes 100 times. It doesn’t matter if I never get paid to work another day in my life again. It doesn’t matter if I never use the diploma I just received in the mail. It doesn’t matter if I’m a biological mom or a foster mom or single or married.

When we answer the “what do you want to be” question this way, there doesn’t have to be an identity crisis when life abruptly hands us something new. Because, we know who we are… or, at least, who we are becoming.

Maybe you’re like me… a bit disoriented from sudden life changes, attempting to process through your worth and your value, considering what your purpose is. Perhaps life, even before COVID-19, hasn’t turned out the way you thought it would. Perhaps you’re still single. Perhaps your kids are doing things that break your heart. Perhaps you can’t have kids. Perhaps you’ve recently lost someone you love. Perhaps your health is failing. Perhaps you’re collapsing under the weight of what decision you must make.

None of these things have much to do with what we do, but who we are in the wake of tragedy, loss, celebration, promotion, confusion… that matters.

Maybe the question needs to shift into “Who do you want to be?” What kind of person, when you grow up, do you want to be? Occupation aside… what kind of human are you going to be? Kind? Generous? Thoughtful? Selfless? Quick to assume? Judgmental? Patient? Prideful? Hateful? Bitter? Unforgiving? Forgiving? Believing that you’re better than… more qualified… more necessary? Someone who listens? Someone who loves, no strings attached?

I know the person I want to be. Hopefully, it’s the person I have been becoming over the years… as a student, a single lady, a camp employee… as a wife, a foster mom, a laid off employee. These things teach me along the way, but they never encompass everything I am or want to be.

And I know I can’t be that person without first knowing the One who embodies all the traits I long for. I can’t be that person without spending time with Him.

This current season will end. I may not be unemployed forever. I may not even be a mom forever (foster care angst). Right now feels a bit like eternity, because it’s all we can see. But, it’ll change. Somehow, in some way.

What kind of person will you be when it does?

What kind of people are we becoming? When we look back in 10 years at this season, will be proud of the actions and words, how we spent our time, the causes we stood for, the people we cared about?

And so I have to ask… Who do you want to be? And how are you becoming that person?

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Oceans

“We did not select you to proceed to the next stages of the application process.” 

I rushed through the rejection email, convincing myself that if I deleted the email quickly enough, I could pretend it hadn’t happened. No one would have to know. 

The speedy actions of my fingers on the keyboard didn’t tamp out the sting I still felt. 
It was a remote job I had applied to – sort of on a whim, sort of because I was curious about it. Once they saw my resume and application, I was certain that I would be the one interviewing them for the job. 

But here I was, literally staring rejection in the face. Again. 

My new reality has stirred up a lot about identity, value, worth. 
I’m in an ocean of unknown territory. It’s a new ocean, but it brings about familiar memories from days long ago. 

The waves come and, as they hit, they cause me to feel unwanted or inadequate. There is reprieve as they settle, but I know looming in the distance more are on the horizon. Sometimes they will sweep me up, toss me around, and I struggle to find my way back to the top of the surface where I remember that I can breathe and that I’ll have better perspective. In the cartwheel of no oxygen, I scrape the bottom and my eyes sting with saltwater. For a moment, I feel like I’m drowning. 

In these moments, I often have gut-wrenching conversations with the Lord as I realize how easily I continue to equate my worth to productivity. Somewhere in me, I continue to believe that if I prove myself, I’ll be more satisfied. Do this and you’ll be something. You’ll matter in this world. You’ll have proven that you’re capable, qualified, reliable. You’ll have “arrived”. 

It’s a silly lie. But it’s a real one. 
One that my rational, mature, intellectual self can recognize and battle. But in my weaker moments, on my weaker days, I can slip into lapses of self-defeat, self-doubt, self-loathing. This is the collision where my stroke fails at the very instant the wave breaks and I find myself upside-down, gasping for air underwater, eyes burning, wondering if this time I’ll make it out unscathed. 

Sometimes it makes me fear the ocean. 
Sometimes it causes me to want to stay on the shore. The satisfaction of the water doesn’t always feel worth being violently tossed to and fro. Sometimes, in my most fragile state, I can’t bear the thought of entering into the abyss of the unknown… not knowing where I will land at the end of it all. It feels easier to stay where I know I’m safe. Or, at least, safer. 

But here I am. 
Facing a new ocean. A new reality. New fears. New dreams. And while I can generally be strong and courageous, there are instances where I really do wonder if I have enough in me to start over, to begin again, to make new friends, to find a new team, to face the chorus of rejection that generally comes when you put yourself out there. To come back to the surface after I eat sand at the bottom. 

And these are the conversations with God that remind me that my worth cannot be found in doing. I have had a to take a good, hard look at the mirror the last several months as process through the events in my life and in the world around us lately. 

There have been sporadic minutes between the baby’s naps that I have chosen to avoid the mirror because I haven’t wanted to give myself an honest look. Minutes where it’s easier to scroll through social media and judge the myriad of opinions, comments, and controversy. Minutes where it’s easier to stay up with the news — learning about the latest coronavirus numbers, devastation, and impacts. But there are other minutes when I hop on the mower and I cannot escape. Here I realize that there is still pain and fear….there are still wounds that take time to heal. There are other minutes where I open Scripture and am ever-aware of God’s promises, of His faithfulness throughout the entirety of mankind. Here I realize that I will be okay… this will be okay. That He will fulfill His purpose for me (Psalm 138). 

All too often I can convince myself that I am capable… on my own. Able to achieve, conquer, do anything, be anything… 

And then I am brought back to my knees, assured that my most vulnerable dependence brings a strength I cannot produce on my own. That the humiliation of the mirror transpires into a fortitude of faith that necessitates willingness, discipline, and courage. 

I wish I could scream that I am strong, able, and resilient. 
But I must confess that I am weak, scared, and dependent. 

There are many more conversations to be had between God and I, as He gently reminds me about who I am and, more importantly, who He is. And as I stand on the shore, scared to jump back in again, waiting for the waves to calm down… I marvel that He is so patient with my fears, my wounds, my insecurities. I am in awe of how He takes care of me, no matter how big the waves have been, no matter how unsteady I have felt. 

What kindness. 
What mercy. 
What love. 

Of this I am sure: I am not alone. 
This ocean will not swallow me. 


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Gratitude

The overarching feeling over the last week is: gratitude.

It’s been a crazy but slow, surreal but real, terrifying but calm kind of week. And while there were moments of despair, there were many more moments of doing what is needed, despite the pit growing in your stomach as the hours slog on without word… there were still reasons to be thankful, still reasons to smile. Sometimes that feels insane to me.

Because life still goes on.
Babies still cry.
Kids still need to eat.
And sometimes, somehow, the most significant thing in front of you isn’t whether your brother will live or die, but the diffusing of a brotherly quarrel. Or being present enough to be goofy and ridiculous and in the moment. To be safe and steady, so those around you don’t fall apart.

And as the clock ticked, as the waiting brought fear and the dread of the worst news possible… we were surrounded by a cloud of support and prayer. A local community who dropped everything to bring food, toys, wine… a kind neighbor with a miraculous bag of soccer balls… money coming in from faces of the past (sometimes even unknown faces – friends of family or friends)… texts, messages, notes of encouragement and thoughtfulness. A time when the world can feel so divided, but we have had the beautiful privilege of seeing and experiencing how united humanity can be. Gratitude. 

I’ve been ever aware of the things I don’t deserve. The things I’m not entitled to. The things that are a gift, each and every day. Breath. Life. Family. Health. Grace. Mercy. People who love, people who give… and ask for nothing in return. Gratitude.

When I was first considering coming to Massachusetts, I was plagued by a lot of uncertainty. While I wanted to be here to help, it initially meant leaving behind our baby, it meant risking coronavirus and potentially bringing it to my brother. But Kel requested to join me, along with our baby – which brought a set of more challenges. While it meant we would be together, it meant we would have 5 kids: a 7-year-old, two 6-year-olds, two babies (9 months and 10 months). It meant Kel couldn’t begin real estate and that a reliable income for us would get delayed. It meant my mom and dad would have to keep our giant dogs, the cat, and the plants alive while we were gone. It meant more people potentially more exposed, which meant a higher risk of bringing coronavirus with us. It meant disrupting barely established rhythms for Baby K.

But Kel said, “It’s better when we’re together”. We’re a team. He supports me, I support him. I’ve never been more grateful for his persistence in joining me… and maybe never been more humbled by his love for me. When you say your vows on your wedding day, you can’t possibly anticipate the bumps you’ll encounter along the journey. Kel has effectively loved me by loving my family in some of the most beautiful ways.

One of my brother’s biggest concerns was that his boys were going to have a miserable summer… dad with open heart surgery on top of a pandemic. Any chance of fun had been thrown out the window. But, introduce Uncle Kel and suddenly we have a Pokémon playmate, a superhero guru, a soccer coach, and man who laughs easily while also establishing boundaries. This uncle is also a man who graciously does the dishes, helps the boys make pancakes, changes the poopy diapers, sweeps the floors, plays with the babies— and uses the spare moments to complete assignments for his online college and do some onboarding for his new real estate job. A man who lets me weep in his arms, without trying to fix it or explain away the mysteries of life. A man who stepped instantly into fatherhood with love and selflessness. Gratitude. 

We have a lot to be thankful for. A lot that hasn’t been promised to us.

And the most striking part of this entire experience has been the way people love. True reflections of of Jesus in this world. I’m inspired to look more like Him because of the people around me lately… to be an unlikely giver, a selfless lover, a go-out-of-my-way caretaker, a postpone-my-plans to be present liver, a shut-up-and-listen speaker. A person who is moved by the Spirit in action, word, and prayer.

I know we’re all sifting through a lot right now. Processing grief. Responding to change. Defending what we believe is right and good. Searching for courage in the face of fear and the unknown. Clinging to the glimpses of hope in this world.

Not all is lost.
In the midst of despair, there always remains a reason to be thankful. A reason to smile. A purpose to this life. At my brother’s house, there is a framed writing that I’ve spent a lot of time staring at. It simply reads, “If you gave your life to love them, so will I.”

It cost Him everything.
For this broken humanity, God gave up everything. Even while we were His enemies. The gospel is unbelievable, unimaginable, unfathomable good news. How we respond means everything…

Thanks for reflecting Jesus to me/my family. For reminding me of the sacrifice, the cost, the selflessness that comes with love and the many different ways love can look. But love always costs something. Time. Words. Safety. Money. Pride. Comfort. Something. 

Hold your people closer tonight.
Say the things you want to say, even if they sound too sappy or out of nowhere. Even if it means you might be left exposed and vulnerable. Forgive the people who have hurt you… in case you run out of time. Ask to be forgiven from those whom you have hurt… in case you run out of time. Give, when that little prompting tugs at your heart- maybe in words, maybe with your time, maybe with money. Listen to those that are different than you. Show up. Watch the dogs. Mow the lawn. Water the plants. Consider what love has cost you lately.

Matt came home today. A miracle. A gift. Gratitude.

We will be in MA one more week as Matt and Megan ease into a new normal for the foreseeable future. Pray for Matt’s recovery to be swift and for Megan, as she handles the rest of the houses’ needs – it’s a lot. The church and local community here has been incredible, and for that, I am once again grateful to leave them in good hands.

Thank you, friends and family.
There are no other words…. but gratitude. 



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A Heart to Heart

It’s been a crazy year, to say the least. A lot of unimaginable things have happened. Probably most of us can say that.

Sometimes it feels hard to reflect on or to process. And that’s generally what writing is for me… a cathartic release, a chewing on, a musing. But sometimes it’s just an update for the few that wonder what the Beals are up to, especially now that we’ve relocated. 
So, that’s what you get in this post. An update. 
We moved to Columbia, Missouri on May 29th and 30th. I flew with Baby K and Kel followed the next day (with help from a good friend and his parents) with our two Great Pyrs, Archie (the split-toed cat), and all of my plants/seedlings (and almost all have survived!). They also brought a few of our belongings, too. 
It’s certainly a little weird to move home in the middle of a pandemic. It mostly feels like a really long vacation without a ton of freedom to move about and get to know new people or get “plugged in” to things in Columbia. I haven’t been sad about that yet. I feel grateful to be able to soak in the time, my family, the sun, and watching our sweet baby grow. I don’t feel as divided. I don’t feel as rushed, as hurried…I don’t feel a pressure to produce (unless we are talking about the plants I brought bearing fruit). I love that Baby K gets to be with Mumsy and Pops every day and that I can learn from them as I figured out this whole parenting business. 
It’s a new way of life. 
With new rhythms and habits and freedoms. 
Since moving, we have witnessed some incredible sunsets, enjoyed warm summer nights on the porch, taken long walks with dogs or a baby in tow, eaten a 5 lb. bag of octopus sour gummies (thanks Jill), had our cat get somewhat mutilated by a raccoon, mowed acres of lawn, watched Baby K learn new tricks and talents every day, and enjoyed some quality time with family. We also bought a car (I think). Kel just passed his real estate exams and signed with a broker- so he will hopefully be selling houses in no time! 
Since moving, we have also learned that my family appears to carry a genetic disorder called Loeys-Dietz syndrome. Although my youngest brother had been born with heart issues and had emergency open heart surgery when he was 19, we had never considered the possibility that more of us might be impacted. Due to a series of fortunate (God-sized, really) events, my oldest brother will undergo open heart surgery on July 2. It’s really better if you hear it directly from him, though (and also a way you can support them, if you feel led). Kel and I will fly out to Boston next week with Baby K to help be available for whatever needs arise for him and his family for two weeks during surgery and the first week of recovery at home. They have three boys and a little foster baby (who is only one month younger than K), so we are eager to spend some time with them! If you think of it, we would absolutely love prayer for safety and to remain COVID-free before/during our trip. The last thing we would want to do is bring the virus to my brother when he is in such a vulnerable state. 
Because it’s genetic, we are working to get more of our family tested and checked out. My mom and I got echocardiograms this week to see if our aortas were also enlarged, as that would be a very likely indicator that we carry the gene. While my heart looks relatively normal, our suspicions that the gene had come through my mom’s side of the family appears to be confirmed, as her aorta is also slightly enlarged. She will need to have it monitored each year to check for rapid growth. There is still the chance that those of us who don’t show the same heart symptoms could still be carriers for the genetic disorder. 
No one wants to have open heart surgery… and no one wants to have it in the middle of a pandemic. My family is so grateful that we are on the front side of this and that we can learn more about this disorder for the generations that come after us. We trust the Lord with all of it- His timing, His plans, His sovereignty. We covet any and all prayers for my brother and his family as they go through this next season of recovery and transition. And also for more understanding of Loeys-Dietz and how it might impact more of our family members. 
It’s such a crazy season. 
In the moments of quiet, I find myself listening, reading, trying to learn more about what I don’t know… and also just being. It’s a good place to be right now. In a lot of ways, it feels like the only place I can be.
Waiting. 
Watching.
Anticipating. 
Praying. 
Eager to see what the Lord has in store, for such a time as this. 
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Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Most Powerful Weapon

Written in January 2018: 
“I have a dream…”. These four simple words trigger a reaction from almost every American as we immediately consider the man who boldly declared them and the impact of the Civil Rights Movement on our country. Martin Luther King, Jr. stands out in history as a figure who activated change and is uniquely known by all citizens, whether Christian or not, as a man who remained true to his personal convictions towards social justice and non-violent resistance. What most fail to realize are how deep these convictions ran and how much more to the man there was beyond these four simple words. While many have fought the battles of social injustice, what sets King apart from all the rest was his utter devotion to Jesus Christ. This paper will first reveal King’s growing passion for God and civil rights during his formative years, his deep roots in prayer and the understanding of Scripture, and how, as a result, social justice and non-violent resistance became non-negotiable components of his faith.

Formative Years
“Of course I was religious. I grew up in the church. My father is a preacher, my grandfather was a preacher, my great-grandfather was a preacher, my only brother is a preacher, my daddy’s brother is a preacher. So I didn’t have much choice.” King’s journey with religion started at a young age as his childhood revolved in and around the church. While the core tenants of his faith would be shaped over the course of his life, especially during college and seminary, he traced his family as a strong influencer in his early years. It was in his youth that he would be introduced to the Lord, gain a very basic understanding of social injustices in America, and begin to learn how these two things needed to interact with each other in order to live out the Gospel more fully.

King’s initial understanding of the Lord was sprung from his own experiences with his family—and since his family was filled with closeness and love, it was only expected that his view of the Lord would be that of a loving Father. However, King’s walk down the aisle as a five-year-old to join the church had more to do with keeping up with his sister than it did about what the Lord was doing in his heart and life. He would quickly grow out of this and begin to find a second home in the church. Both of King’s parents played a pivotal role in teaching and training him up to be a man that was not only devout in his relationship with God, but also in his quest for equality. King described in his autobiography how, as a young boy, his mother attempted to explain the injustices of racial segregation and, while the world may seem against them, he was to believe that he was “as good as anyone”.

King’s father also taught him significant values when it came to equality, as he was a man driven by a deep sense of integrity and morals. He not only spoke with conviction and, oftentimes, bluntness, but he was a man who lived boldly out of this conviction. King recounts a story in his youth that was quite formative in his mind, telling readers of a time when his father chose to walk out of a shoe store rather than be moved to the back of the store, out of sight of the large windows in the front where anyone walking by could have spotted them. Instances like these would continue to shape and challenge King’s perspective on this interaction between his faith, the world around him and how he ought to live in the midst of a broken, fallen, and unequal world.

Even as a 14-year-old, King was figuring out that the things he was discovering on his Christian journey were a sharp contrast to the reality that he was living. “We cannot be truly Christian people so long as we flout the central teachings of Jesus: Brotherly love and the Golden Rule,” King wrote in an oratory contest that he won. The more he learned about the Lord and Scripture, the more he was convinced that his reality (and America’s reality) needed to change. A trip to Connecticut right before college gave King a new and eye-opening perspective on America—not all of it was segregated. In the north, King was given freedoms that he had never had and this discrepancy contributed even more to the animosity toward racial inequality that was growing in his heart.

King’s faith in the Lord was steadfast except for a short stint in college where he received opportunities to challenge the teachings of his youth and process through the inconsistencies he saw in the African American churches. To him, they were highly emotional and most of the pastors had no seminary education. As he began to wonder if religion could be “intellectually respectable” as well as “emotionally satisfying”, his skepticism would lead him deeper into his studies of Scripture and other philosophers and theologians. His discoveries, as well as his encounters and friendships with stand-up and respectable ministers in college, would free him to see that the two concepts were compatible and lead him to pursue a career in the ministry. King wrote:

I guess the influence of my father had a great deal to do with my going into the ministry. This is not to say that he ever spoke to me in terms of being a minister but that my admiration for him was the great moving factor. He set forth a noble example that I didn’t mind following. I still feel the effects of the noble moral and ethical ideals that I grew up under. They have been real and precious to me, and even in moments of theological doubt I could never turn away from them.

Without these formative years being filled with truths about God’s character while also tackling the challenges of being heavily immersed in racial inequality at the time, it is unlikely that King would have developed the habits he did as he began to pursue his seminary degree, and then his doctorate, which would lead him to his pastoral job and eventually his central role in the Civil Rights Movement. His course of study would cause him to reflect on the teachings of Henry David Thoreau, Plato, Aristotle, Rousseau, Hobbes, Bentham, Mill, Locke and many more. He eventually encountered the teachings of Gandhi and his already developing ideas and passion for non-violent resistance were affirmed in a way that he had not yet studied. Gandhi’s words challenged King and allowed him to set his reform model into motion—with an emphasis on love and nonviolence rooted in the teachings of Christ. This model would be the driving force of King’s efforts throughout his life.

Prayer
Now that we have seen how King’s youth shaped his spirituality, forming a steady foundation to his passion for social justice, this paper will show the large emphasis that King placed on the necessity of prayer, understanding Scripture, and his response to both of these foundations in such a way that resulted in action.

Prayer was a vital component of King’s spiritual life and a source of strength throughout the many tribulations he experienced. It was not only something that King grew to be deeply committed to, but something that he was urged to engrain into his life by his father: “You see young man you are becoming very popular. As I told you you must be much in prayer. Persons like yourself are the ones the devil turns all of his forces aloose to destroy.” This exhortation to King may have produced seeds that caused him to rely on prayer in a way that not only affected his own spiritual life, but the lives of those around him. In fact, King referenced the importance of praying often and there is evidence of that sprinkled throughout his speeches, sermons, writings, and interviews.

For King, this discipline did not arise from a few years in seminary, but out of the depths of the African traditions that were passed down to him through his family. These traditions taught that prayer for his ancestors was “…much more than the heart and soul of a religion, or an essential aspect of spirituality; it was a necessary ingredient in the total experience of living.” Prayer was a faith component that King relied on and he spurred others to do the same (although, of course, not without action to accompany it). He had a habit of a regular evening prayer and was committed to this time in conversation with the Lord.

One particular story that King tells in his sermon, Our God is Able, reveals the impact that his relationship with the Lord had on him and his pursuit of non-violent resistance. He describes in great detail receiving a threatening phone call and being on the verge of quitting all of his efforts in the Civil Rights Movements. He did not feel like he had the strength to carry on and, in earnest, honest conversation with the Lord, he prayed: “I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But now I am afraid. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I stand before them without strength and courage, they too will falter. I am at the end of my powers. I have nothing left. I’ve come to a point where I cannot face it alone.”

He goes on to describe the divine interaction that took place that evening, as he experienced a sense of peace and resolution in God’s presence. This is just one example of many revealing how often King communed with the Lord and was encouraged, comforted and inspired to do even greater things for the Kingdom of God. One can see that these conversations were both honest and sincere and allowed for transformation to happen in King’s mind and heart as he perpetually pursued transformation in the world around him. These were the prayers of a man who insisted that, “…a dynamic prayer life is essential for any social movement.”

Understanding Scripture
In addition to prayer, it is necessary to realize that Martin Luther King, Jr. was not just a leader in the Civil Rights Movement, but also a reverend that preached many sermons that required him to be very familiar with Scripture. These encounters with the Bible shaped not only the words that he spoke and wrote, but also the philosophies that guided his life. He was directed by the teachings he found in the word of God and held them to be true, even in the midst of such inequality. During his interview at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, before preaching, King found himself saying, “Keep Martin Luther King in the background and God in the foreground and everything will be all right. Remember you are a channel of the gospel and not the source.” King’s focus was always on God’s agenda, not his own and he knew it was necessary to be well-versed in Scripture in order to communicate that to others.

If one reads or listens any of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s sermons, they will quickly notice how prevalent Scripture is in them. A lot of Scripture even directly influenced his prayer life, as many of his prayers are filled with Old and New Testament references. The more he studied the Bible, coupled with his quest after other great philosophers and reformers before him, the more his life was impacted and changed. King considered the Bible to be an authoritative source, although he primarily preached from the New Testament. One sermon King delivered was Paul’s Letter to the American Christians. Using Paul’s epistles as a reference, King molded a letter (in the form of a sermon) in modern day terms to speak to the American people in a way that would hopefully cause them to consider how their actions were reflecting those of the often-scorned recipients of Paul’s letters. Through this unique role, King not only addressed the negative idols that America had latched onto (capitalism, materialism, and sectarianism), but he also brought out the concept of nonviolence “using Christian symbols and imagery.” One particular witness, Henry H. Mitchell, of this speech wrote about the power of event and King’s impact on the audience:

…his delivery started slowly and never gained speed or volume, but it gripped and held this audience of ten thousand or more…We hung over the balcony rail and wept unashamedly. When he quietly announced the pro forma, ‘I must close now,’ the sea of black Baptists arose as one and protested.

Not only were his sermons rooted in Scripture, but his speeches as a Civil Rights leader were also laced with Biblical text and they were captivating. Clayborne Carson, in his introduction to A Knock at Midnight writes that King’s speeches “combined spiritual inspiration and social analysis, careful preparation and extemporaneous insightfulness.” While King’s speeches were founded in the teachings of Christ and spoken through this Biblical basis, his voice was powerful among Christians and non-Christians alike. This gave him ample opportunity to live out his faith in a way that affected a large array of people not only across the entire country and but also many years after his death.

Non-violent Resistance
Through King’s steadfast upbringing, dedication to prayer and involvement in Scripture, he knew that his life must also reflect the truths that were being realized within. His spirituality was founded in action, as he was deeply convicted that he must live out the very things he was claiming from the pulpit or podium. Non-violent resistance in the face of the Civil Rights Movement would not only become a reform strategy, but it would become an identifying factor of his personal faith in Jesus Christ and his convictions to live out of that fully.

As already discussed, King’s progression in his faith and also his interactions with social injustice led him down a path of deep soul searching and researching the many had gone before him as he attempted to make sense of the world that didn’t seem quite right. The shame, humiliation and the feelings of being “less than” seemed contrary to the Scriptures he was growing more familiar with and, the more he learned, the more his findings would spur him into action. One of King’s first pushes for social change involved the Montgomery bus boycott in 1955. Coretta Scott King, King’s wife, wrote in the foreword of Strength to Love that this boycott is where King “first actively combined theology with social change.”

In King’s sermon, “Love in Action”, he spent some time attempting to communicate the fullness of Luke 23:34, “Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” In this sermon, King was encouraging the forgiveness of those who have wronged us, saying that this is “love at its best.” This mentality moved the sermon swiftly into loving our enemies and the power that can result when a person takes a nonviolent, loving stance over one of violent confrontation. His sermon on “Loving your Enemies” told a story about Abraham Lincoln who, rather than choosing to treat his arch-enemy with contempt, chose, instead, to appoint him as his Secretary of War. King stated, “If Lincoln had hated Stanton both men would have gone to their graves as bitter enemies. But through the power of love Lincoln transformed an enemy into a friend.”

This attitude of love, even despite the opposition of hate, is one that drove King to his nonviolent methods. In his quest for eliminating social evil, King found himself adopting various positions and ideals from different philosophers. He landed in a place of allowing the “Christian doctrine of love” to be simultaneously operated with the “Gandhian method of nonviolence”, believing it to be “one of the most potent weapons available to an oppressed people in their struggle for freedom.” It was during the Montgomery bus boycott that King finally got to live out this intellectual concept and see how this was not just a nice sounding principle to talk about, but it was something he was committed to living his life by. In fact, if King had simply defined his spirituality by prayer and an understanding of Scripture, he would have been incomplete. Nonviolence resistance that moved him (and the world) forward in the fight for equality was something that was necessary to his spirituality—something that allowed him to truly live out the things he said he believed. “‘You must do more than pray and read the Bible’ to destroy segregation and second-class citizenship,’ the local newspaper reported [King] as saying; ‘you must do something about it.”’

Conclusion
Martin Luther King, Jr. created many waves during the 1960s in the face of racial segregation and social injustice. While many Americans only know a limited (maybe even face value) version of the man who fought in the Civil Rights Movement and helped spur on the quest for equality, there is much more to the man than most realize. King was driven by a deep spirituality—a faith in Jesus Christ that moved him to action. His life was committed to prayer, understanding and teaching Scripture, and a commitment to nonviolent resistance in the form of love when faced with opposition. He taught from this, lived out of this, and impacted the lives of many, as a result. Carson remarks that, “King saw his religious identity as his ‘being’ and ‘heritage’…”, more than any type of Civil Rights’ leader.

From the time King was a young boy, he found his home in the church, identified with the deep roots of African traditions that molded his own prayer rhythms throughout his life, and all of this gave him opportunity to examine Scripture in such a way that moved him toward radical action. These are the fundamentals of what drove Martin Luther King’s spirituality and, as a result, his way of life. The two are intrinsically connected, unable to be separated.

The non-negotiable components of King’s faith (and life) were wrapped up in his upbringing, prayer-life, understanding of the Bible, and his nonviolent resistance methods. Without those fundamentals, he wouldn’t have been the man we remember, celebrate, and are challenged by today. Dr. Wyatt Tee Walker, King’s former Chief of Staff, wrote in the introduction to Rediscovering Lost Values, “Despite the now legendary oratorical gifts that King developed in his post-Montgomery career, first and foremost he was an unapologetic proclaimer of the Gospel of Jesus of Nazareth.” It seems that this would be the legacy King would have wanted to be remembered by: a man who not only challenged the status quo of his time, but did so because of Jesus Christ and what He stood for. King’s spirituality is worth knowing about and sharing with others as it can lead others back to Christ, as well as inspiring one to living a life of Christ-centered change in a fallen and broken world.


Appendix: Reflection

Researching Martin Luther King, Jr. was appealing to me, especially considering the stark contrast between he and I. Through this research, I hoped to learn, be challenged, be inspired, and be more aware of a man that I had grown up hearing and learning about. My initial curiosities about King arose from reading a few of the chapters in Strength to Love prior to our class. If I had reached into the recesses of my mind, I might have been able to recall certain facts about the Civil Rights leader that I had learned in elementary school. What I wouldn’t have ever recalled (perhaps because I had never learned it) was his faith and deep commitment to Scripture, prayer and living his life out of the fullness of that. The more I read, the more I learned, was challenged, inspired and more aware of who this man was and why he lived the way he did.
King’s words are deeply convicting and the more I mulled through his sermons, prayers and got to learn about his story, I couldn’t help but wonder why I wasn’t living as radically as he. In his quest to abolish racial segregation and stand up for social justice, I couldn’t help but wonder how I could do similar things, especially with the state our world is in. What I think is most inspiring about the way King lived was how much it was based out of Scripture. He wasn’t doing it just for the sake of equality or because the personal struggle he had faced his entire life, but because of his deep convictions that this world wasn’t how the Lord intended for it to be. He was committed to living a life that enacted the very essence of the Gospel, truly seeking to live like Christ.

I feel like I have spent the better part of my life pretty ignorant to the injustice in the world. I have been far removed from it and, as a result, been isolated from knowing how to respond or even feeling like I needed to respond. My journey through the Old Testament this last semester had already begun to plant some seeds that perhaps there was something that I needed to be doing about the injustice around me. This, coupled with a newly raging desire within to know how to respond to the heartache in this world, had my mind spinning. King’s response is a human’s response to the broken world, but I am deeply inspired by a tangible example in more modern times that we have through him as he attempted to live out of his understanding of the Bible (and the many others that he studied before him). I am inspired by the way he sought to embody Scripture in a way that not only shaped his actions, but helped pave the way for others to move into a new era of freedom and hope.

I have been praying a lot more for wisdom and discernment on how to proceed from here. Praying a lot for opportunity and that, in the face of opportunity, I would be bold, courageous and willing to step into something that is potentially frightening but a cause worthy of fighting for. I long to be more intentional about the way I live out of the Gospel, and the way that I love others. What I also appreciate about King is that he didn’t step into any of it blindly. While he was passionate, he was also educated. He took the time to study and prepare and develop a mindset that he believed in before he was ever able to live it out. He took time to be equipped and prepared and, while this took effort, I think it also is in line with the example of others we have in Scripture.

I have the tendency to want to rush into things, to want to do things and to make a difference. I don’t want to just sit around and talk about things, but I want to know how we can apply it and how we can put it to action. However, I do feel like there is wisdom to waiting, wisdom in being patient, wisdom in seeking to learn and know more about God’s word. I believe that I may be in this season and am eager to see where the Lord takes me in it.

In some ways, I feel like if King were alive today, his sermons and speeches and prayers would still make a profound impact on the world around him. While there have been so many victories in the realm of racial segregation and injustices, there are still so many to overcome. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from such a great man and hope that some day I can more fully live out of the convictions in my heart, especially when it comes to social injustice.




Bibliography

Ansbro, John J. Martin Luther King, Jr.: Nonviolent Strategies and Tactics for Social Change. Lanham, MD: Madison Books, 2000.
Baldwin, Lewis V. Never to Leave Us Alone: The Prayer Life of Martin Luther King, Jr. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2010.



Carson, Clayborne, editor. The Autobiography of Martin Luther King, Jr. New York, NY: Warner Books, Inc., 1998.
King Institute Resources. Accessed January 28, 2018. http://kingencyclopedia.stanford.edu/primarydocuments/Vol2Intro.pdf.

King, Martin Luther. Strength to Love. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2010.

King, Martin Luther. A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr. Edited by James Melvin Washington. New York, NY: HarperCollins, 1986.

King, Martin Luther. “Thou, Dear God”: Prayers That Open Hearts and Spirits. Edited by Lewis V. Baldwin. New York, NY: Beacon Press, 2012.

King, Martin Luther. A Knock at Midnight. Edited by Clayborne Carson and Peter Holloran. New York: Warner Brooks, Inc., 1998.

Mitchell, Henry H. “The Awesome Meek.” Pulpit Digest, January 1991, 23-26.

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Go

I have a love-hate relationship with my birthday.

In fact, I probably blog about it every year because of the inner turmoil I experience. To celebrate, or not celebrate? To take my birthday off of Facebook, or leave it up? To request anything special, or not?

Getting married added a new challenge. Poor Kel suffers on this day each year, trying to do the impossible: make his wife feel special, cared for, valued. As the dreaded day approached this year, we had a few conversations about it, especially given our pandemic-world we now live in. What could we do and what did I want to do. You’d be surprised to hear I changed my mind a million times. Mostly I wanted to be content with doing nothing… and I kind of wanted everyone else to be content with that, too. But, that type of answer never really flies…

But then last night, it hit me.
It was brilliant. Mostly because it wasn’t me.

Come to me.
Be with me. 

“Kel”, I said minutes later, “If you don’t mind watching Baby K for a few hours tomorrow- I think I’d like to go get lost in the woods for a while”.

Hiking has become somewhat of a birthday tradition for us, but it’s always included people. In some ways, excluding my husband felt selfish. But, it also felt necessary. Even as I typed those words, I immediately remembered The Message version of Matthew 11:28-30 that a professor had brought into a seminar on Sabbath. Check it out:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

On a day that I have wrestled with wanting to be celebrated versus wanting to live with humility, it had never once dawned on me that perhaps the most perfect way to celebrate was to go be with my Creator. That instead of seeking the accolades of others, of wanting to know what value I have contributed to the world in these 36 years… that maybe there was actually something more beautiful about escaping to be with my Father, being in relationship with Him, being reminded of who HE is and how that defines who I am.

These past weeks and months I’ve heard a lot about social distancing… a lot about how we were created to be in relationship with others. How, now that we can’t, we realize more than ever how much we truly do need community. But, I wonder how much we’ve remembered that we were, first and foremost, created to be in relationship with the Creator. To love God, then others.

I hiked. I hammocked. I worshipped. I dozed. I prayed. I cried. I laughed. You might have thought of me a crazy person.

But it was so good.
I’ve been so blessed by the many who have reached out to tell me kind things today. But, it will never compare to the love of a Savior, who redeems my darkest moments. He, who weeps with me, but reminds me that there is more in store. He, in whom there is eternal victory.

I feel compelled to tell you, friends, to go to Him… to recover your life… to learn the unforced rhythms of grace. Even if you never have. Even if it’s been years. Even if you did this morning.

Henri Nouwen’s book, Reaching Out, describes something that has stuck with me for a few years now. He pushes people to move from loneliness to solitude in the first section of his book. My basic take away is that when someone is lonely, our intuition is often to surround that person with people. Nouwen suggests, quite beautifully, something foreign-feeling. Instead, what if we pushed people toward solitude… with God. He writes, “No friend or lover, no husband or wife, no community or commune will be able to put to rest our deepest cravings for unity and wholeness.”

I have been convicted, on my birthday, of all days… how much I try to seek this wholeness from other humans. And I bet a lot of you do the same.

As a result, my challenge for you (and me) is this: Go. Get away with God. Go without an agenda, without a plan, without expectation.

Turn off the TV. Turn off your phone (or set “Do not disturb notifications” up). Set down the news. Escape into the wilderness. Disappear into a different room. Enjoy your porch at sunrise.

Be willing.
Be honest.
Be mad. Be lonely. Be sad. Be scared. Be sick. Be healthy. Be thankful. Be happy. Be worried.

But go.

He can handle all of it.
He is calling.
Will you follow?

Husbands/wives- watch the kids while the other takes some hours away.

We have the time. Maybe now, more than ever before. Be in relationship, yes. But with the Father, first and foremost.

Go.
Recover your life. 
Keep company with God. 

I have reason to believe that when we do this… that it (He) can change everything. I have reason to believe that it might be the best possible thing to do while in quarantine.

Try it.
And then let me know how it goes.

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