Don't Assume Things About What Works For Me

 In a conversation I was a part of recently there was an assumption made that caught me off guard. I was surprised because it was over something where I never would have thought being single made a difference.

And the more I've thought about it since then, the more I've come to the conclusion that my status as a single actually has no bearing on this particular thing. It isn't part of the equation here.

The fact that it was brought up at all is a reflection of how dangerous making assumptions is and of the ways we continue to misunderstand singles in some places.

Let me start with the specific situation this relates to. A group of us were having a conversation and somehow got on the optic of kitchen size. I made a comment about my kitchen being small, not having a lot of counter space. The response I received was that it was okay that my kitchen was small because I was single.

I was just so surprised at the time that I said nothing in response. But, as I've thought about it since, I've figured out how I would respond in the future to a similar comment.

Only from the perspective of the number of people being in space does my being single matter. There's rarely more than just me in my kitchen.

But, it stops there. Whether there's one person or three people in my kitchen, the fact is that you quickly run out of counter space when you're cooking. Cooking for one person doesn't mean I don't need space for a cutting board to chop veggies or meat, somewhere to put the dishes as I use them to prep, and all the other things that take up space when you cook. That still takes up the same amount of space.

That is just an example of a situation where an assumption was made based on my status as single. In the grand scheme of things, a fairly harmless one. I was left a little bothered, but it didn't impact my life in big ways.

But, it does highlight a danger that comes with making assumptions. It's easy to make assumptions based on our limited understanding of a situation, or the first thoughts that come to mind. But, we often either don't have all the information about something or we haven't walked through the implications of the our assumption when we make it. The can be incredibly hurtful to the person we make our assumption known to.

We have to learn to change this. We have to take the time to check our assumptions before we move forward with them. And that takes time and intentionality.

To go back to the conversation that referenced this:

I know for sure that with more people more space in the kitchen is required. I cook most major holiday meals in my Mom's kitchen, which is quite a bit bigger than mine. There's definitely space to have 2 or 3 of us in in.

And, the one time that Thanksgiving dinner had to be moved to my house, it truly was a challenge to make it there. Even though the change also meant fewer people for the meal, we had slow cookers on the floor because there was no where else to put them.

So, in that conversation where I said my kitchen was small, how could things have proceeded differently without assumptions being made?

Just acknowledging that my kitchen is small. Maybe a comment that they couldn't imagine trying to cook with someone else in it. The most important part being no reference to me being singles as making it okay.

Even beyond someone's marital or family status this applies. This is just the example I have to share.

Where do you tend to make assumptions?

How can you do a better job of checking them before you state a potentially hurtful assumption?

Sharing the Other Perspective

 I had a brief conversation with a friend recently that made me realize the need to explain things where the perspective is different. It wasn't about anything that would have a huge impact on someone's life, but it was still important.

We were talking about going to a movie. My friend made the comment that you didn't really need to book movie tickets together, because you would be watching a movie, not talking anyways. In theory, that's true. But, there's also something I realized in the moment that made her experience of going to the movies different than mine.

She made the comment under the assumption that was going with her husband, and meeting others at the movie was a nice, but not necessary thing. Not a spoken assumption, or even one she was necessarily aware of. I had a choice in that moment: I could say nothing and let it be, or I could help her see it from my perspective. This was a good friend, so I decided to say something in that conversation.

As a single person, I want to book and purchase the movie tickets together, so that we're sitting together. Even though we're not talking during the movie, it matters that I'm sitting with people I know if we talked about going to the movie together. If I book my ticket on my own, I'll likely be sitting completely alone for movie; whereas, for my friend, she's sitting with her husband.

I'm not opposed to or afraid of going to things by myself. I do it a lot. But, when I talk about doing things with someone, I want to actually sit with them. Sitting alone in a movie theater, even knowing I have friends in the theater, doesn't quite feel like what the plan was, and it can make me feel on the outside again.

I share this experience, not to talk about going to the movies, or about going to things alone. I share it to highlight how easily we can misunderstand people and take offense it we're not willing to dig deeper.

I could have said nothing and let my feelings of not being understood fester, but that wouldn't have helped me or my friend. It likely would have damaged our friendship, at least for a bit.

By saying something, our friendship gained more understanding of each other instead. I didn't belabour the point. I simply stated it and we moved on, but it was an important couple of minutes.

Knowing People's Names Isn't Enough

 Have you ever been in a place where you knew the name of many people in the room and you still felt alone & disconnected?

Maybe you even knew a few facts about the people - their job, if they're married, if they have kids - but you still leave that event feeling like you didn't really connect with anyone?

It's likely you know exactly what I'm talking about. You probably have your own experiences of it. It's something common to many people.

This way of living and interacting has become the norm in our culture. But, it isn't how God has designed us to live. We feel lonely and disconnected because we're missing some of the things that are vitally important to having the community we were created for.

Knowing people's names and factual information about them is not enough. We have to go beyond those surface conversations with some people. That's what we were made for that we're missing.

In our appearance and image-obsessed culture, we've sacrificed being real. We're so focused on how we appear on social media and to the strangers we pass as we run our errands, that we don't share what's really going on.

Even the "struggles" we share in our attempts to "be real" in these environments are carefully chosen. We share carefully crafted words and things that are still planned to make others think well of us.

What we're actually longing for people where we don't have to think about what we share. 

We need people who will genuinely celebrate the good things in life with us. 

People we can laugh so hard with that we cry or snort and we don't care.

People who will sit and cry with us.

People we can ugly cry in the same space as without worrying what they think of us.

People who will sit with in whatever is going on without giving advice or trying to fix it.

People who will ask us the hard questions and tell us the hard truth when we need it.

We've sacrificed this for surface=level conversations where we maintain our image. And we're lonelier than ever because of it.

The only solution is to take the risk and invite people into this kind of community with us. To move beyond the surface-level conversations to deeper conversations.

The One Sunday of the Year I'm Very Tempted to Just Skip Church

 It's not very often that I'm tempted to skip church. But, there is one weekend where it becomes a serious consideration.

What Sunday is that?

Mother's Day.

And not because I have anything against the day. 

Or because I don't have a good relationship with my own mother. We have our disagreements, but, for the most part, we have a good relationship.

So, why is it a weekend I'm tempted to skip church?

Because of how Mother's Day has been handled so often in the past. Always, with really good intentions of celebrating and affirming the mothers in church that morning.

But, also, often hard for many. For those who don't have children of their own, because they've never had the chance. For those who don't have children, because they haven't been able to. For those who have lost a child. For those who didn't or don't have a good relationship with their mothers. For those who recently lost their mother.

In the process of honouring mothers on this day, there have been many times that I have been the only woman in the part of the church sanctuary I was sitting in who was still seated when they asked all the mothers in the service to stand. Or the times, a hand offering the gift that morning to the mothers there has been pulled back from me when they realize who I am.

All of those moments, painful reminders that my life doesn't look like I thought it would. That I don't have a part of my life that I thought I would by now.

And, so I'm tempted to skip church on Mother's Day. Not just choose to join online instead, but completely skip it.

So, what do we do?

I won't say we shouldn't acknowledge the mothers at church. But, we need to be creative in doing so in a way that doesn't so obviously identify who does not have children. 

When it's Not Bad, But it's Not what You Had Planned

As I approach my 40th birthday, I've been more reflective than usual.

I think many of us feel that way as significant birthdays and other life milestones approach. We look at what is and what isn't in our lives. What we hoped for and what we're still hoping for.

My life today looks nothing like I thought it would at this point. Not what I thought growing up. Not even what I thought ten years ago.

It' would be easy to just focus on what I don't have that I thought I would at this point. That could get depressing pretty quickly, if all I focused on was the dreams that haven't happened yet and may not happen.

While reflecting on what hasn't happened can be a good thing, in moderation, we can't live there. We can't just live looking at what we wish we had. We have to shift our focus.

There are things we have that we wouldn't have if we'd gotten all we had hoped and dreamed for. It's just as important, if not more, to acknowledge those as well. Many of things things may be blessings we didn't even know about before they happened.

The biggest thing I'm reminded of is our need to approach this with gratitude. When we take the time to reflect on things, gratitude is vital. When we approach with gratitude, we're able to see how God was working in all that happened and all that we have. We can even begin to see how God is in the things we hoped and dreamed for that we don't have and may not receive.

The Silence In-Between

We have a tendency to want to jump straight from Good Friday to Resurrection Sunday.

We don't know what to do with Saturday.

We don't like Saturday.

Saturday is a day of silence. Of misunderstanding. Of confusion. Of doubt.

Even Scripture doesn't tell us anything about Saturday. Good Friday ends with Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus placing Jesus' body in a tomb (John 19:38-42). And then moves right into the account of the women coming to the tomb on Sunday and finding it empty (John 20:1-18).

Friday's despair becomes Sunday's celebration.

But, what about Saturday?

The silence doesn't mean that God wasn't still working out His plan that day. But, for Jesus' followers, the day wouldn't have been easy. Nothing was going the way they thought it should.

Confusion. Pain. Despair. Grief.

The companions of the day for many.

It's uncomfortable to sit in Saturday. So, we try to rush past it. Get through it as quickly as possible.

Bu, even though Scripture doesn't tell us explicitly of the actions of Jesus' followers on that day, we still know they walked through it. 

Saturday was the Sabbath. A day of rest. A day where they could do nothing but sit and wait and question what had happened. They had to wait until Sunday before they could do anything again.

Truthfully, Saturday is a place we often live in our everyday lives. We walk through times of pain and confusion. We have seasons when God seems silent and we wonder if He's paying attention to what's happening in our lives.

In John 20, we say what could maybe be a glimpse of what Jesus' followers did with their Saturday. Verse 19 says, "On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together . . ." 

The disciples were used to being together, eating together, doing life together. They continued to be together. They shared their experience. Instead of being alone in their confusion, pain, and grief, they were together.

So, what do we do with Saturday?

How do we handle the pain and confusion of the silence that seems to fall?

We hold to the truth that God is still working, even though we can't see it. And we hold to each other. We don't attempt tp get through it alone.

Why Someone Cancelling Plans is so Hard as a Single Person

 "Why are you so disappointed when I have to can plans with you? It's not the end of the world.

I've been asked some version of that question by a lot of people over the years. And, while I know there's no malicious or hurtful intent in the question, it drives the disappointment deeper. Because, now I know I've been misunderstood on top of the plans I thought I had being cancelled.

I understand that stuff happen and things come up in life that mean previously made plans need to be cancelled. That's a part of life, and I do my best to understand.

But, that shouldn't mean I don't get to be disappointed. I'm not trying to guilt you or pressure you. But, I've now gone from having plans to do something person to another evening or day alone . . . again.

Now, I'm an introvert, who truly values my time alone. But, there comes a point when I need people, when I need community. The last thing I need it more alone time right then, so the cancelled plans hurt and are disappointing - even though I understand life necessitates that sometimes.

I may not be able to hide my disappointment in the moment, although I will do my best for your sake. I don't want to make you feel bad when you had no choice.

But, I guess the situations where cancelled plans are the hardest are when it seems like there's no reason why they had to be cancelled. I hadn't been able to put words around this situation for a long time. A couple of months ago, I was reading a book that explained it in a way I'd been unable to.

In her book, Turn Toward the Sun, author Mandy Hale, better known as "The Single Woman" online, writes this:

"And here's the thing you need to remember, too, if you are married or in a relationship or have kids or all of the above and you're cancelling plans with a single friend: You tend to have built-in and consistent community in that you at least have kids or a significant other. There's a good chance that you were the community for the week for the person you just cancelled on, and they likely had been looking forward to spending time with you all week. And now you've bailed on them at the last minutes, giving them no time to make other plans and essentially stripping them of their community for the week. So, yes, it is a really big deal to cancel plans, and it might impact the other person's mental health in ways you can't possibly see in the moment you shoot off a one-line text message standing them up."

That may sound a bit harsh at first read if you've never thought about it before. But, it resonated for me when I read it.

Even on the days I go to work, there's not community there all the time. We try, but work has to be done, and sometimes all we communicate about is work - possibly even, only by digital means.

And then I go home to an empty house.

I'm happy to do lots of things alone. And do them regularly.

But sometimes, it's really nice to do them with someone.

So, even if it doesn't always seem like it to you, sometimes cancelled plans feel like the end of the world and my disappointment is going to be obvious. I'm not trying to guilt you with it.

So, what am I asking in writing this?

When you think about cancelling plans with your single friend, pause for a moment. If you don't have to cancel, then don't. Sometimes, a half hour coffee because you're tired is better than all plans being completely cancelled.

And, when you do need to cancel completely, don't tell me it's no big deal when I'm disappointed.

Choosing to Live a Full Life

 I've been asked to explain about my journey with singleness a few times in the last few months. That's always an interesting question to answer. How much detail I go into in my answer really depends on who is asking and the context for the conversation.

As I've answered this question, there is on thing that has stayed the same no matter what. That's the way I always start my answer.

I'm not single by choice. I want to be married and a family of my own. But, I'm not going to allow not having that to keep me from living a full life right now, in my current circumstances.

That's been my way of living since I graduated college. I graduated Bible college to jokes from my family that I "failed" Bible college because I was still single. While I know those words were meant as teasing, they made me realize that I had a choice in how I lived.

I could live as if those teasing words were true. And the result would be that I would put my life on hold while I did nothing but search for someone to marry. I could be discontent because things weren't exactly as I wanted them to be.

Or, I could acknowledge that I was single and had a desire to be married, and still live my life. I could choose to get involved in things at church, to build great friendships, to do things I loved - even when the circumstances weren't exactly what I'd hoped they would be.

This doesn't remove the fact that I'm not single by choice, nor does it eliminate the struggle that comes when circumstances aren't exactly what I would desire. But, it does give life meaning and purpose. It does give opportunity to be used by God for His purposes and His glory.

I think this applies to all of us in many areas of life. It doesn't matter the specifics of the circumstances we wish were different. The principle is still the same.

We will have a choice in how we will respond to those circumstances. 

We can let the circumstance mean we put our lives on hold until things change to how we want them to be. 

Or we can acknowledge that it's not what we would prefer and choose to live the best life we can in spite of it.

"Love Me Till I'm Me Again"

 "Love me till I'm me again"

Those words are on the wall of of a coffee shop I like to spend time in reading and writing. I see them regularly and I've pondered them from time to time.

In the last few weeks I've thought about them a lot more. I realize how much we need people who do that.

"Love me till I'm me again"

The life will bring things our way that knock us off our feet. Everything feels unstable, unsure. We're facing an unknown. In many ways we've all been living that the last few years.

When this happens, we might not feel like our usual self.

And we need people who stick with us through it. Who keep loving us. Who keep showing up for us. We need people who will love us until we're ourselves again. People who will be patient with us. People who don't walk away because we're struggling.

Staying - Even When it's Hard (Part Two)

 Last week I started a post answering the question I've been asked about why I've chosen to stay at a specific church, when those I call my closest friends have moved elsewhere for a variety of reasons.

I started by talking about Scripture encourages us to keep meeting together and assumes we are. Being part of a church doesn't seem optional. We need the diverse community to live the lives that God calls us to. You can read it here. 

Before I go on in the post, I'm going to repeat some of what I said in part one. I am not writing to tell anyone else exactly how they should think or what they should do. I am answering the question of why I chose to stay when it seems to appear easier to start going elsewhere, at least on the surface. I acknowledge that some who make the decision to leave have very valid reasons why they choose to do so and I won't tell them they're wrong because of it.

Throughout the New Testament, we're referred to as the family of God and the body of Christ. Both of those things point to us being a part of something bigger than just us. Now, some will point to those as referring to the church worldwide and I agree. But, I also think when we look at the detail written in Scripture of what that looks like in practice, it points to a local gathering of believers. That's the place where we use our gifts to serve others and the world around us.

In our society, we've made it easy or normal to leave your family behind or stop seeing people in your family because you disagree or got hurt. But, in doing so, we've cheapened God's design. And we know it. We know when we have those experiences with family that come up as enjoyable - or with a group of people who are like family.

But, with family also comes disagreements, arguments, differing views, and sometimes we hurt each other. Family is supposed to work through those things when they happen. Unless it's actually dangerous to stay, the best would be for family to work through whatever comes up.

If we do this with our biological families, why would we not also do it with our church family?

We may not completely agree with each other on everything, but if it's not about the core things of our faith, I think that's okay.

It means we have to be willing to forgive, to let God heal our pain. But, I believe it's the best way forward.

If I don't leave my family for good because I got hurt in a disagreement or argument, then why would I do it with my church family?

I don't say this lightly. I've lived this one. While I don't feel this is the place to share all the details, I will say that about 15 years ago, I walked through an experience at church where I was left hurt and feeling betrayed by some in leadership roles. Instead of valued, I felt ignored and like I wasn't an important part of the family, as did many of my friends. 

I chose to stay and work through the pain. I kept showing up and staying involved, even when it hurt. And I slowly found healing and was able to forgive those who had hurt me. I'm not sure that in my experience, I would have come to a place of forgiveness and healing if I had left instead. That would have made it easy to place blame on others and put up fake walls of being okay. And I could still be living that. 

By choosing to stay then, I know the good that ultimately happened and I believe that is the best outcome always. It took time to deal with everything that came along with that hurt. I couldn't deal with it all at once. I had to be willing to keep working through the hurt and the feelings of betrayal.

I won't say that everyone should stay in every situation. There are definitely situations where the best choice for healing and for all is to leave. But, I do wonder if we make the choice too easily sometimes.

So, that's my answer to why I stay, even when it seems like it might be easier to go elsewhere.

Staying - Even When it's Hard (Part One)

 Why do you stay?

Why don't you just go where your friends go?

These are questions I've been asked a few times in the last few months. Always talking specifically about church and my choice to stay even when some of the people I call my closest friends are no longer there.

It's not a question with a quick or easy answer. And I'm careful in how I answer because I don't want to offend people, nor do I was to tell someone else what they should do. I've wrestled with whether to write this post and I've wrestled with whether to share it.

Before I go on, I want to be clear: this is why I chose to stay, even when it sometimes feels like it would be easier to just start going elsewhere. I have people in my life who have made different decisions in similar circumstances and I won't tell them they're wrong to have made a different choice. I also will never belittle or put down someone's hurt and pain and the decisions that result from it. 

And, if it's a situation where abuse of any kind is happening, then I would never tell someone to stay. If it's a church situation where abuse is happening, then staying is not the safe option and I will never argue that one.

While I've come to my conclusion and decision on staying based on my study of the Bible, that doesn't mean I've got it all perfectly figured out. I answer this question from my own experience as well.

As I get started, I believe there is one thing I can say for sure is true for all who call themselves Christians. The writer of Hebrews puts it this way:

"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together as some as in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another - and all the more as you see the day approaching. (Hebrews 10:24-25, emphasis mine)

We're told not to give up meeting together. When you read the book of Acts or any of the letters to the churches in Scripture, they were all written to a group of people, to a church. The Christian life is not about " me and Jesus, and no one else."

We need to have a group of other Christians we're doing life with. And not just a group of people who all think like us, talk like us, are about the same age or stage of life as us. If Paul's words to the church Philippi are any indication (see Philippians 2:1-4), then the church is a diverse group of people because we have a need to learn how to move together in unity and put others first.

We need the kids that we see running around at church. We need the senior who always greets you with a smile and a handshake. We need the family who we wouldn't otherwise ever connect with. We need the single people, the married couples, the seniors, the kids, the youth, that make up a local church gathering.

But, it something that I see that makes me wonder as we emerge from a couple years of gathering as the church being a challenge. We've gotten used to listening to whatever service we want from wherever around the world sitting on our couches in our pajamas. Now, I'm not saying church online is bad or wrong. I think it's a great thing. But, even in that, we need to have a community of believers - a church - that we're connecting with regularly and consistently - even if it's online. We need people who are allowed to really get to know us and us them.

So, I guess the first part of my answer to why I stay is because I believe that having a church - a gathering of a diverse group of people - is something that Scripture says we need and should be making a priority. My friends are a great group of people, but there's something about having a multi-generational gathering where the senior who has watched me grow up has the opportunity to continue to speak into my life.

I think that's where I'm going to finish this post. There's more to come in my answer to the question of why I stay. But, for the sake of length, I'll share that in a future week.

Learning to Really Rest

 Do you know how to rest?

Really rest?

I'm not talking about sleeping each night.

I'm not talking about your time off work or school.

Rest can, and often does, include those things, but in and of themselves they're incomplete rest. They're not the important things that refresh us and restore us.

I've been learning a lot about this recently. It's easy to not be at work, but still be thinking about work, planning things for work, checking emails and chat messages on my phone. Or to be planning the next evening for the Bible study I lead - what we're going to study, the details of each night. Or to be looking after family stuff that isn't always as urgent as it seems. Or to just be busy cleaning, laundry, errands.

None of those things are bad, wrong, unnecessary. They're part of life and important parts of life.

But, if they're all we ever do, we'll quickly find ourselves in trouble.

It may all look good on the outside. We get things done at work. We lead or serve at church well. Our family knows we'll be there whenever they need us or just ask us to do something for them. Our house is always very clean and organized.

But, we come home and collapse on the couch. Too tired to do anything but numb ourselves with binge watching a favourite show or scrolling social media before we crawl in bed to try to get some sleep. Morning comes and we do it all over again. Hoping for the day where we won't feel so exhausted and overwhelmed - the day when we'll do the things we used to do that brought us joy.

If we can actually get to the point where we admit it's not working, we can learn what real rest is. We can learn a different way to live. But, it means we have to be intentional about it.

This is where I found myself almost six months ago. I took my vacations from work, but all the notifications still showed up on my phone each day. I took the scheduled breaks between Bible studies I was leading at church, but I spent all that time putting together the perfect plan for each upcoming night we would meet - even though I knew most nights would likely not go exactly according to my detailed plan. I'd decide to take some time to do something I wanted to do, and a family member would phone or text with a request, and I'd drop everything to help them out immediately - even if it could have waited. My house always had to look perfect, even thought I was the only one who was going to see it.

And I thought I was resting regularly. Except coming home from work or whatever else I felt I needed to do and zoning out in front of the TV for a few hours wasn't really rest. But, it was all I could do with the way I was living.

I knew something had to change, but I had no idea how to make that happen on my own. I needed help to figure it out. I still need help figuring it out some days. I needed someone to help me see how I could make those changes.

And I sought that out. I found that help and began to make those changes. And I began to learn what real rest looks like.

It includes sleep. It includes time off work. It includes what I called rest before. But, it's so much more than that. It's meant boundaries around my time. It's meant intentionally scheduling time to do the things I enjoy and protecting it.

I can't tell you exactly what it should look like for you. We're all different. And what's restful to me, might not be to you.

But, I know for me, it meant setting quiet hours on my work apps on my phone so the notifications only appear when I'm supposed to be working, and turning them off completely when I'm on vacation. It means leaving my phone behind on purpose, or turning it off when I'm out for a walk or coffee with a friend (have you ever thought about how much our phones interrupt us when we're with other people?). It's meant learning to only drop everything for emergencies with family and making plans for another time when they phone with non-emergencies.

More importantly, it's means doing things I enjoy more often. Sitting in a coffee shop with a good book. Going for a walk with a friend. Playing a game with my niece (and usually losing to her). Reading that book that's been sitting unread for too long. Getting together with friends for games, food, conversation. Regularly phoning a friend just to talk about the last week for both of us. 

Really, it's been rediscovering what brings joy. What makes me smile. What energizes me.

That's been what learning to really rest has been about for me.

And as I watch people in my life and people around me, I wonder how many more of us need to learn how to really rest. How to make space in life for what really is important.

So, how about you? Do you know how to really rest?

When you look at your calendar, is it just filled with things you feel like you have to do? Or are there things on it that refresh you, restore you, leave you feeling energized?

How can you make sure you have these in your life consistently?

How can you learn to really rest?

What's Your Perspective?

 What is the lens you're looking at things through?

What is colouring the way you see things right now?

What's your persepctive?

A few days ago, I played what could arguably be the worst golf game I've played since I was just learning the game. And it seemed to keep getting worse the more holes I played.

I could blame the terrible round on many things. It was my first game of the season. I haven't gotten to play much in the last few years. The weather was crazy and undecided - sun, then rain, then sun, then rain again. The wind was making the ball go places that weren't planned.

And all of those things probably played a role in how bad it was. But, they weren't the most important thing impacting my game that day.

A few years ago, I inherited my Grandma's golf clubs. She wasn't able to play anymore and I was in need of new clubs, but couldn't afford them. So, since my swing is very similar to my Grandma's (if you golf, you know this is important), she gave me her relatively new clubs to use.

After a particularly bad shot, I was returning my club to my bag, when I heard my Grandma's familiar words in my head. It was something she reminded me of often in all the hours I spent on the golf course with her and my Grandpa as a teenager.

I was getting frustrated and thinking only about how my golf game was awful. How I couldn't swing a golf club correctly anymore. How it was never going to get better.

As I looked at the clubs my Grandma used, I heard the reminder: "It's just one bad shot. When you get to the ball, it's a new opportunity again. No matter how bad the shot was. You have another chance. Start fresh."

The way I was thinking on the golf course that day wasn't helping my game. I didn't see anything getting better. And I was actually making things worse. My thinking kept me going down a path that would make my game keep getting worse.

If there was going to be a chance of things improving, I needed to approach each shot as a new opportunity, rather than keep getting frustrated. I had to change my perspective. 

Doing so, didn't make my game improve immensely, but something did shift. Things didn't keep getting worse and I even managed to hit a few good shots in the remaining holes.

Our perspective matters. We need to be aware of what is impacting how we see. It matters. And not just on the golf course. It matters in all of life.

What is the lens you're looking at things through?

What is colouring the way you see things right now?

What's your perspective?

Where does it need changing?

What can you do to change it?

Holding Onto Hope

 What are you hoping for? What are you hoping in?

Where have you placed your hope?

These are the questions running through my mind tonight.

I've had a number of conversations with people lately who are struggling to see or feel any hope. And I am too.

This past year has been a hard one for many of us. Isolation and loneliness. Wondering if or when this will all end. Feeling like we see glimpses of the end of this, only to have them dashed again.

It's hard to have hope when it always seems to fall apart. When it never seems to go the way we hoped.

But, I've beginning to wonder if our struggle with hope is because we're placing it in the wrong places. 

What if hope feels impossible right now because we're hoping for the wrong thing? Or because we're placing our hope in the wrong thing?

By the wrong thing, I don't mean things that are sin. The wrong thing isn't about some sort of moral choice we make.

Much of what we hope for and place our hope in are things on earth, things that fade or fall apart. And when those things do what they will always do, we struggle with hope.

What would happen if we changed the place the where place our hope?

What if we intentionally hose to place our hope in something more than the world has to offer?

I love the way the writer of Hebrews talks about hope in Hebrews 11:1

"Faith means being sure of the things we hope for and knowing that something is real even if we do not see it." (NCV)

Hope is tied to faith. Hope comes from faith. The NIV talks about having confidence in what we hope for. That's something that sounds like it offers more than the things of this world.

In Romans 5:5, Paul tells us why we can have hope:

"And this will never disappoint us, because God has poured out His love to fill our hearts. He gave us His love through the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to us." (NCV)

Hope that comes from God and is placed in God will never disappoint us. That's a pretty great promise!

So I'm challenged tonight about where I'm placing my hope. And reminded that I need to place it in God, because He will never disappoint.

In the midst of all that is currently happening in our world, it's easy to lose hope - if it's something on earth we're placing our hope in.

But, we can choose differently.

Today, I'm choosing again to place my hope in God. And, honestly, that might be a choice I have to make again in 5 minutes. But, it's one I'll keep making.

Maybe you need to do the same thing. It might not be easy. It might need to be a minute-by-minute choice right now. But, it's worth it.

What can you do today to reminder you to put your hope in God?

Loss in a Season of Loss

I had a much different post planned for today. One I had written, edited, and perfected to share today. But, when I went to post it, it just didn't feel like the right one to share today.

I've been thinking about some different things today. I don't know exactly where this post is going as I write it. This isn't the way I usually write what I share here. But, this feels important to share tonight.

Earlier today, I read a Facebook post that told me an extended family member had passed away. My great uncle Pete . . . or just uncle Pete, as I called him all my life. As I was blessed to have my great-grandparents alive for most of my life, my great uncles, great aunts, second cousins were part of my life growing up. 

Family holiday gatherings, important life events, and church gatherings and events over the years. All those people and all those memories. People who made my life feel that much more secure, because I knew all those people in that room for those memories cared and would be there if I needed them.

As these memories started coming up, my mind wandered to another, even closer person, it feels like I've lost in so many ways. As I sit here today, writing this, it's been just over 11 months since I last saw my Grandma. One of the many losses within this pandemic. The reality is, she was fading when I saw her last, her memory being stolen from her. Now, all these months later, it's very likely that if I see her again before she passes away, she won't know who I am. 

Physically, I drive past the home where she lives at least once a week. But it was Family Day weekend in February 2020 when I last pulled a car into the parking lot and walked through the doors, got in the elevator, and walked down the hall to her ward to find her for a visit. It's been 11 months since I leaned down over her wheelchair to give her a hug, feeling those familiar, yet weakened, arms reaching up to hug me back. Whispering the words "I love you" and hearing her whisper them back.

Another of the many losses of a pandemic. But, the family losses feel the deepest tonight. 

My next thought was to ponder where to turn. What can we do in the midst of all of this?

At church, we're nearing the end of our "21 Days of Prayer" and we've had morning and evening prayer gatherings online. As I was wondering this, I realized it was time for the evening prayer gathering, so I tuned in. And, that was reminder of where to turn.

In the midst of it all, we have a heavenly Father who is with us. Our Abba, who we can turn to and rely on. When the world around us in confusing and hard and we're facing another loss in a season that already feels full of them, we can call on Him and He is with us.

"The Father has loved us so much that we are called children of God. And we really are His children." (1 John 3:1, NCV)

"For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by Him we cry 'Abba, Father.' The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children." (Romans 8:14-16, NIV)

What we All Need

 When I wrote my series on singleness in the church a year and half ago, there was a topic I completely avoided. It came up a few times in my research and writing, but I always had a good reason to skip over it. There was always something else to write about.

The truth is that I just didn't want to go there or open up that topic. But the last nine months have brought it back to the surface and I can't avoid it anymore.

I touched on it a little bit in my post last week, but there's so much more to it than what I wrote there. In the next few posts, I'm going to be talking about physical touch and our need for it. And take a look at what Scripture says about it.

Because this is a topic with potential for so much confusion, I'm going to start with being clear about what I'm not talking about:

1) I'm not talking about one of the five love languages that are popular to talk about. You don't get to tune out or stop reading because it's not your love language.

2) I'm not talking about sexual touch or love. That is a different topic, and one I currently have no plans to write about.

So, what am I talking about? What do I mean when I say physical touch?

I'm talking about those moments of connection with someone that comfort, soothe, make us feel loved and safe. A hug from a friend. A hand of comfort on our shoulder. A friend just being physically close to us while we watch a movie or enjoy being outside.

And, as I think about this topic, I've been hesitant to go here in the past, because of the huge possibilities of misunderstanding. Especially as I move into talking about what it looks like for a single person. 

As Lore Ferguson Wilbert writes in her excellent book Handle With Care: How Jesus Redeems the Power of Touch in Life and Ministry:

"Our society simply doesn't know what to do with the human body or human touch. Our culture is confused, and confusion only results in more confusion."

It's easy to look at culture and see the confusion. But it's not limited to secular culture.

I would argue that the church is just as confused - in some cases, even more confused - than our culture. We've just replaced the lack of rules or boundaries you could say is our culture's problem, with a long list of things we can and cannot do. A list that actually can't be found in Scripture. A list that often causes harm in exactly the ways we're trying to protect ourselves.

So, I will start with the next post looking at Jesus' use of physical touch in Scripture. And move from there into discussion about life and life as a single person in this area.

Letting the Faith of Others Carry you in the Struggle

 A couple days ago, I got a message asking why I hadn't posted anything here in just over a month. I knew it had been a while, but I didn't realize it had been that long.

If I look at the notebook where I start most of my posts, I can see a lot of started and unfinished posts. Things I started to write, but had no idea how to finish or turn into something I would share. Thoughts about things that I can't yet get to a conclusion of any kind.

The last post I wrote and shared here challenged me as I read it. I was writing about getting through when you don't think you can. About what we need to do.

I talked about our need to invite community into our struggle. To have people we can be honest with about where we're at. It was easy to write that, but the truth is, it was harder to live that out. I wrote those words for others, not even realizing how much I would struggle to do exactly that in the last few weeks.

It wasn't until I completely reached the end of myself that I realized just how important it is to invite people into our struggle. It's not just a good thing to talk about. It's something we need to actually do. It wasn't until I actually reached out to friends and let them into my struggle that things began to change. My faith may be weak right now, but that's what community is for. We carry each other when someone is struggling. We carry them to Jesus.

When the whole premise of what you've written about for years is living as Christ's disciple and what that looks like practically, when things get hard, it's hard to write about it. But maybe honesty about things is the best place to start writing again.

I don't know what my writing will look like in the coming weeks. I don't know if there will be more that make its way to here. Or if it will continue to be unfinished ideas that don't make it here.

But can I encourage you with this: No matter where you're at spiritually, keep holding on. Keep sharing honestly with people in your life. When you're faith is struggling, ask the people around you to pray for you. Let their faith carry you when yours is weak.

When You're Not Sure if You Can Get Through It

 How do we get through hard times? 

How do we make it when it just seems like too much?

I know God doesn't promise an easy, trouble-free life, but sometimes it just doesn't feel possible to get through all that's going on at one time. And, if I'm honest, in those times, I wonder how I'm supposed to get through.

I share a few thoughts about this on my Facebook feed on Sunday night. I wasn't sure where it would go when I started writing it, or what the response would be when I posted it. But, what I discovered, is that I'm not the only one wrestling with this right now. So, I figured that after almost a month of no posts here, something on this topic would be a good way to start again.

I haven't posted here because I'm in the place I'm talking about and I haven't felt like I had anything to write about because of it. But, then I remember why I started this blog in the first place. Not because I intended to write about things where I had it all figured out, but to encourage others in their walks with God whatever it looked like. So maybe writing from a place of struggle is what I should do.

How do we get through hard times?

How do we make it when it just seems like too much?

I've been in the church long enough to know what the answer should be.

Cling to Jesus.

Read your Bible. Pray. 

All good things. But, sometimes that doesn't feel like enough. When reading the Bible doesn't connect and your prayers feel like they're bouncing off the ceiling, the "right" answer, the church answer, doesn't feel like enough.

So, what do we do then?

First, I think we need to be willing to admit it. Just be honest and say that we're struggling. To ourselves, and hopefully to trusted friends too. There's something about saying it or writing it down.

Then, we need to reach out. Those trusted friends. Our church community. The people we do life with. We need them. They're the people God has given us to help us through the times we don't know if we can get through it.

And, probably the hardest part, we need to keep reading our Bibles, keep praying, keep being a part of church. It might not feel like something we want to do right now. It might be the last thing we want to fill our time with. But, keeping on will make a difference in the long run. It may be a discipline right now, but the day will come when it becomes a delight to do those things again.

It's Strange Right Now

 Can we just acknowledge it . . . ???

Church is a little strange right now. Well, all of life is. But, today, I'm talking specifically about church.

For some, church is still online. Sitting in your living room, logging onto your computer.

For others, church may have begun to gather again. But, it definitely doesn't look the same. Doesn't look the way we're used to it looking.

But, as I discovered when I could walk into the church building I'd taken for granted, it is also good to be back. Even though I know the church isn't a building and that just because we couldn't gather in our usual place didn't mean we were no longer the church, there's still something about the place we gather as the family of God. 

As I've arrived for church and watched others arrive and find a seat in this strange situation we find ourselves in, I've realized that for the first time many are feeling something I've felt many times before - long before things became what they are now. There's something that I'm recognizing in their faces that's familiar.

You see . . . when the place you sit is carefully chosen and you're not just sitting close to everyone else in the room, it can feel lonely. You can feel like you're completely alone, even when there's other people in the room. When you have to keep the appropriate distance between you and others, it can emphasize those feelings of being alone. And, even moreso for those who are coming to church alone right now, when they would usually come with others.

I've struggled with since being able to go back. In some ways, the fact that I'm single is more emphasized than ever, because I can't just find friends to sit with. But, it's also a familiar feeling for me. There have been many times when I've walked into church, and not seeing anyone I would normally sit with, felt very alone int he group.

So, speaking from experience, maybe I can offer a bit of encouragement in this time: Let's be intentional about loving one another. Be compassionate. And offer that smile and hello. Even though we can't stop like we normally would and sit down to have the conversation or give a hug to someone,  we can still be the family of God and care for and love each other.

And don't be afraid to acknowledge that it feels strange. That it's hard. That, although we might be glad to be back, we're also still struggling with how we have to do things to be back.

When Words Hold You Back

"How can you pray for me when my prayer need is about my marriage and you've never been married?"

It's a question I was asked about 15 years ago, as I was part of a prayer team. And a question I've never forgotten.

I don't remember how I answered that night. But I did pray for this person.

And then it took another 10 years before I allowed myself to be in a position like that again.

I walked away from that conversation doubting whether I could or should step into what I felt like God was calling me to. I questioned if I should wait until I was married to step into ministry outside of with children and youth. I questioned if I was even allowed to be involved in adult ministry before I was married, or at least had many, many more decades of life experience.

I never told anyone about this experience. I never voiced my doubts or questions to anyone. I just held onto them. I was held back for years by this one question I was asked. I don't remember who said those words, but they had a profound impact on my life for years.

I wonder what stories you could tell about the impact of someone's words on your life. The impact could be good or it could hold us back. The challenge is that we're more likely to remember the words that us to question and doubt, the words that hold us back.

That's what happened to me. I know at the same time as I heard the words above, there were words spoken to me that encouraged and affirmed me in stepping out. But, I don't remember those words clearly. In the presence of doubt, they quickly lost their power.

If you've made it this far into the post, I wonder is you relate?

As you've read my experience maybe your own experience has come to mind.

What are the words that have been spoken over you or to you that have held you back?

What are the experiences in your past that have made you decide to stay back in the shadows rather than stepping into what you know God is prompting you to do?

There is good news. We don't have to live by these words and experiences. We can live free of them.

I know it's possible, because it's been my experience. It takes a choice to do the work of changing your thinking and learn what the truth is, what God says about you. But it is possible.

It starts with exactly where my questions have brought you. We have to start with acknowledging the words and experiences. We're often not aware of them, so we ask God to show us.

Once we're aware and acknowledge them, healing begins. We ask God to speak His truth the those lies we've been believing. Then we regularly remind ourselves of the truth until we actually believe it. And we step out and do what we've been hiding from. 

I still remember the first night I put myself back in a similar role - praying for people who requested it. I made a commitment to do it and stepped back in. Choosing to believe the truth that God wanted me there and He would equip me for it.

So, what do you do next?

Ask God for His truth to believe, instead of the lies that's been holding you back.

Remind yourself of the truth regularly. Keep doing it until you start believing it.

Step in. Do it with shaky hands and a quivering voice. But do it.

If you're overwhelmed or not sure how to move on, talk to someone. Tell them your story about what happened, what was said that is holding you back. Ask them to pray for you. Ask them to help you take the first step.