Memorial Day

For those who have sacrificed, thank you.

The Night I Danced in France

France had a way of beating me down. Not the whole country, but the sum of our experience there. We'd made friends who were leaving the country and decided to throw an enormous, lavish party.

I didn't really want to go. I was in that place where I'd rather stay at home, safe inside the four walls of our tiny place, and be quiet and sad. But this was such a big celebration, I knew I couldn't bow out.

So Patrick and I went. We ate. We talked. We interacted with new people.

And then the dancing began. At first I didn't want to. I wanted to go to the bathroom and cry alone. But the beat of the music wooed me. Patrick and I danced. And danced some more. And the more my feet lifted off the floor, the lighter my mood became.

The wife of the couple came to me that night. She'd known I'd been battling depression there. She said something like, "See Mary, sometimes you just have to have fun, to let go."

That dance came back to me today. How free I felt in the moment, even when the moment was surrounded by heartache, fear, and the deepest fatigue and loneliness I'd ever experienced. The dance was a light in that darkness.

Which leads me to ask: How can you step outside your pain RIGHT NOW and dance? What one thing can you do to break the cycle of sadness? How can you risk, step out of your comfort zone, and fly?

Approval & Money

"Look at me!
Look at me!
Look at me NOW!
It is fun to have fun
But you have to know how."
— Dr. Seuss (The Cat in the Hat) 

 

How many times am I like the Cat in the Hat? Yesterday I sensed it as the words came out of my mouth. "You should've seen me at boot camp today!" Before I could continue, I stopped. Listened to my own words. All about me. Look at me. I am special. Please notice.

Later, I explained my involvement in the Lausanne Congress to a friend. Although I said I was humbled to be selected to be a part of the event, what I really wanted the person to know was that I had been selected. Ew. 

I don't want to be the Cat in the Hat, putting on a show for everyone to watch. I don't want to be narcissistic. I don't like me when I'm that way. Because in losing me, I find me. In letting go of the need to be recognized and heralded, I find peace.

So why do I grab at it? Most likely insecurity. I don't yet feel fully loved by God. I don't yet understand His complete acceptance. I can write words that sound like I do, but in reality, those moments are fleeting.

And in my writing career/ministry, I've been deeply discouraged. From the outside it may seem strange that I struggle in this way, what with nine books released. It boils down to simple economics. I work very hard, then get discouraged when my hard work doesn't seem to merit financial remuneration. That's discouraging.

Yet, in the midst of that, God keeps sending me mountains of encouragement--the very words I long to hear and read. He has truly, deeply confirmed my calling to write and speak, on every possible level (except financially). 

Here's where I'm wonky (and there are many places in me that are wonky): I equate my worth with either praise or money for something I've done. 

And yet, Jesus loves me. Oh to truly only need His love, to not need to preen for approval or pine for money.  

 

Jesus, set me free. Help me. Forgive me. Set me in a new place where I understand my worth based on You. With tears in my eyes, I plead that You would burn my calling deep inside and speak life into my tired heart. Help me to live for the Audience of One. Amen.

 

The currency of the Kingdom: People

I made many friends in Northern Ghana when I visited there in 2008 with my then 12-year-old son Aidan. The trip was for him, to help him realize his dream of bringing water to the village of Sankpem. Unfortunately, we stood on shale, on two spots that the earth wouldn't give up water--the wells he helped fund, unsuccessful. Now, two years later, a pipeline is making its way to the village, a completion of his dream, though in a different way.

Before his trip, Aidan's grandparents sent some money his way to give away as he felt led. So he did, with beautiful abandon. He helped a twenty-something girl realize a dream to become a batik artist. Five months later, she died of malaria.

In God's strange economy, money doesn't always equal redemption. Or rescue. Or help. Sometimes it complicates. Sometimes it confuses. Often it is simply a shady scrap of the genuine reality of God. I fear I've trusted in the Almighty Dollar far more than the True Almighty One.

Aidan and I saw Jesus in Ghana. In so many cashless ways. We spoke with a friend who said, "For ten years I didn't know when my next meal would come," and we marveled, we whose bellies have always been full. 

We give when we can. We hope we give when it hurts. We long to sacrifice so our brothers and sisters across the world can eat and live and breathe. But that's not the essence of the gospel, not as Aidan sees it, at least. He's fourteen now, and longs to go back to see his friends. He became a man in that dusty place, found parts of Jesus he'd never experienced in America. He made friends he'll never forget. 

That's the currency of this beautiful kingdom. Not money. Not goods. But people. 

Thy Kingdom Come

They haunt me. They beautify me. The faces of those I met in Northern Ghana. They remind me of a kingdom where there will no longer be tears or poverty or war.

I want to live for Your kingdom, Lord.

Forgive me for thinking of building my own. For forgetting the distressing disguise of Jesus on the face of so many. For wanting to store up trinkets here instead of treasures in Your kingdom.

Thy kingdom come. In my life. Right now.

Empathy and Feeling Alone and Jesus

I had the privilege of taking the Strengths Finder when we were church planters in France. I remember three of my strengths today:

1. Achiever (Oh how this makes sense! Those of you who have read my blog any length of time know I tend to equate my worth with what I produce. I'm learning to let go of that, but the DNA of achievement is still woven through me.)

2. Communicator. (Yep, this makes sense. I'm almost a hyper-communicator, written and spoken.)

3. Empathy. (I actually think this one was #2, something that surprised the person who administered the test. "You don't see a lot of achieving empathizers," he said.)

Empathy is where I get in trouble. While I love that God has made me empathetic, it does have its negatives.

Positive: I can meet someone and almost always assess their emotional state.

Negative: If someone is distraught, it's hard for me to get beyond that. I tend to take in their pain, feel it, and then never let go.

Positive: I listen well and help people feel understood.

Negative: I can't get a person's sad story out of my head. It replays. It affects my mood. (This is why I could not be a counselor.)

Positive: I can see potential problems and discern people's hearts in a few meetings.

Negative: This can make me overly cautious around people, or I can enmesh myself. (This is why I learned I couldn't be on a church board, the kind where you know all the dirt about people. I can't separate that dirt from day to day living. If my hubby became a pastor again, I'd have to ask him not to tell me about all the stuff.)

Here's the odd part of empathy for me. Although it endears me to folks, and folks to me, it can be isolating. And it can break my heart. Proverbs 4:23 says: "Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."

When I receive people's family secrets for this blog, I cringe. For the moment, I am with the person, feeling the pain, dying inside, wishing and praying for healing. It's hard for me to shrug the pain off. Yesterday when I was a guest on Moody Midday Connection, we received three calls, all very, very hard to hear. Tales of abuse. Unmentionable pain. Broken lives. In the aftermath of the interview, I received several emails of folks sharing their broken hearts, their fractured stories. I couldn't shake the sadness. I kept it to myself. And I felt alone, carrying a burden way too heavy.

I need to guard my empathetic heart. (And please hear me when I say I'm not 100% empathetic. I fail in this area also). I need to throw my burdens at Jesus' feet. And I need to learn how to cast others' burdens there as well. Only then will my load lighten.

But even as I type this, I wonder. How must Jesus feel. He possesses the most empathy on earth and heaven. Hebrews 4:15 says, "This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do, yet he did not sin." He understands. He shoulders. He knows. He's been here. What must it be like to be Jesus? He knows EVERY painful story of every single human being. Even the secret stories. And He graciously bears them all.

My own inability to bear the weight just makes me love Him more.

If our God is for us, then what can stand against?

We've been singing this song "Our God" by Chris Tomlin in worship lately. It's a great reminder of God's otherness and His power to help us even amidst opposition. Flashes of our time in France blew before me in memory. The times we stood up and no one stood with us. The times of loneliness. And yet, God was for us. Even when we stood alone. He was there all along.

Ever ask yourself: What is the Gospel?

The Gospel: The Most Sacrificial Love Story in History.

The players: A Triune God. A rebellious people. A scrappy enemy.

The plot: The scrappy enemy of God entices a people to rebel and seek life outside their creator. No sacrifice made by the people in penitence satisfies a holy God, nor can they pull themselves up by the bootstraps to walk the way He would have them walk. So He becomes the solution by sending Himself in the flesh, providing an example and empathy. Once on earth, He destroys the paltry, cheap tricks and works and words of the enemy by living a life of irresistibility, sinlessness, and radical love. He washed the rebels’ feet with his sacred hands and told them to do likewise. Then He became the ultimate object lesson by giving those same hands and feet as nail-platforms. The perfect, irresistible, holy, beautiful, loving One chose the devil’s tool (death) for our sake, obliterating our sin, throwing it farther than east from west, inviting us back to Eden, to perfect, open, whole, healed relationship. And after his heart beat no more, he rested in the earth while the devil sang shrill victory songs, only to hear his whiny whimper when the God of Everything rose again, thrust away death’s icy grip, and revealed afresh just who God was and is and is to be.

That is the Gospel.

Faithful in little

If you are faithful in little things, you will be faithful in large ones. But if you are dishonest in little things, you won't be honest with greater responsibilities. Luke 16:10, NLT

I have to remind myself of this verse when I see others surpass me. I hate to admit this out loud here on the blogosphere, but it's sometimes hard when I see other authors garner huge sales. It's not that I wish them ill. I'm always happy to hear authors succeed. It proves that it can happen. But there is a little part of me that looks back on my journey and wonders how long I'll be asked to be faithful in little things.

Then again, I know I must celebrate the amazing places God has brought me on this writing journey. The talks I've been able to have. The lives impacted (praise be to Jesus, not me). Nine books published.

I recently read a review of one my books that really startled and blessed me. Someone called my writing "great." That's been my desire all these twenty years of writing--to learn the craft, to grow as a writer, to write the next book better than the last. To be faithful in the small things. To be okay without fame or sales. To plow forward, improving, expanding, learning.

And sometimes the satisfaction of writing a well-turned phrase is its own reward. Sometimes an email from a reader is enough. I sense God's smile there. But then when I, like Peter, look at the waves of finances and "why-me" instead of Jesus' steady gaze, I want the "large things." The bigger platform. The greater sales. What I perceive as the reward for years and years of being faithful in little things.

Why?

Stupid ol' money. Not for me. Not for ease. But for my children's college. To free up my hubby to pursue more dreams. To, in a sense, finally earn income greater than what seems to be minimum wage (It's painful to calculate hours to pay...).

Yes, pursuing writing is a dream. A dream come true. But it's also a costly risk with no guarantees. I am walking this path by choice, writing word upon word, trusting God to provide as He is so apt to do. I am learning contentment. I choose to smile, to trust that the little things are things God sees, and that rewards are not merely financial (and if I measure my success there, I'll lose sight of what genuine Kingdom success is.) And when I hear words like, "She just doesn't have the sales," from a publishing entity, I try not to cry, try not to take it personally, try to hope that publishers will continue to take a risk publishing someone without star-power numbers.

God knows. He knows. I thank Him ardently that He didn't entrust greater responsibilities to me when I started writing. I could not have handled that spiritually. He whispered this in my ear right before I met my first agent, "Mary, you have withstood many trials, but will you withstand the trial of notoriety."

I want to withstand it well. Lord willing. But right now, I will keep being faithful, as God gives me strength, in the little things. I will trust that He will grow them as He prefers.

I cried twice already

Perhaps it's an emotional day, though I didn't anticipate it would be when it started. I do have several friends battling awful, scary diseases, and a distant family member who has died. One friend has surgery today, something I dreamed about last night. My heart is prayerful.

But it still surprised me when I listened to National Public Radio about the devastating aftershocks of Nashville's floods. They praised volunteer organizations, then the host said something like, "But this doesn't begin to measure the aid provided by local churches." A man broke in, a simple man from a nearby church. I don't even remember what he said, exactly, but just hearing his voice made me cry. He spoke of the honor it was to help, how the church should be the first to respond. And here he was giving his life, time, skills, and heart to strangers. Selflessly.

Then I turned on the TV while I ate my 9 grain hot cereal to a show on HGTV called Holmes on Homes. It's where this contractor (Mike Holmes) goes into folks' houses that have significant issues. Almost always the family has been taken advantage of by unscrupulous contractors. This particular episode, the family experienced a fire, then while the "contractors" were doing everything slipshod, a grandmother and a father died. In a month's time. They didn't have it in them to monitor the work. And the work was bad. Raccoons scuttled through the home. And the contractors stole things from the homeowners including banking information, writing checks on their account.

When Mike Holmes put his arm on the woman's shoulder, I lost it again. He told her he would fix what was damaged, would deal with insurance, would restore the home. He rescued her.

I resonated with both because both men represented Jesus to me. The One who didn't have to, but chose to stoop to my life, look at the pain there, and choose to "be the church" to me. To restore what had been devastated by enemies. To create beauty from ashes. To right the wrongs. To come alongside. To weep with me, then selflessly repair my heart.

Thank You, Jesus. And thank you to the people in this world who show me Him. To those who restore and volunteer and sacrifice, know this: Your work is not in vain. It is seen by the One who sees in secret.

Jesus, as my friends suffer, help me to be one who comes alongside, who can be the church. I pray for my family that You would bring comfort. I pray for those in Nashville who are digging out of wet drywall and broken dreams. Bring healing and new life. Make me a believer in You who sacrifices, who puts others' needs before my own. And, Jesus, it's my prayer that those who follow after You would represent You beautifully today.

Life in Defiance releases today!

For those of you waiting to find out the conclusion of the Defiance, TX trilogy, today's the day to find out. Order the book here. Enjoy!

Recent photo shoot

I had the privilege of shooting some of my daughter's friends for their choir banquet. Isn't everyone amazing?

By the way, I'm still trying to "earn" money for my trip to Cape Town South Africa. If you'd like your portrait done, let me know. Here's where I explain how it works.

I can do family shots, author photos, senior pictures, promo pics, etc.

Proverb for the day

Let your eyes look straight ahead,
       fix your gaze directly before you.

Make level paths for your feet
       and take only ways that are firm.

Do not swerve to the right or the left;
       keep your foot from evil.

Proverbs 4:25-27

Perception versus Reality

I perceive myself to be a wimp. The reality, if I'm honest, is that I'm not. I may not be Susie the Workout Queen by any stretch, but I can run a few miles, do a few girl pushups, and survive an hour-long boot camp (barely). Recently a triathlete wrote that I wasn't a novice at it since I'd done triathlons before. But I still feel like a neophyte.

Why is that?

Because my own personal perception of myself doesn't match the reality. I wonder if it's that way with you. Do you perceive yourself as less than?

I remember hearing once that folks perceived me as shy, yet I don't see myself this way. It plunged me into some introspection. Was I shy? Were others' perceptions of me accurate? In this case, my reality didn't match up with what other people thought. I'm not shy.

Which goes to show we all need some sort of grounding force, Someone who accurately knows us. That Someone is Jesus. He sees me as I am. He perceives the depths of me. He is not fickle. He doesn't overemphasize one part of me and de-emphasize another. And through it all, He loves me anyway.

He encourages, "You're not a wimp, Mary.

He soothes, "They simply don't know the outgoing you, Mary."

And He corrects, "Stop beating yourself up."

And He loves, "I made you to be you, and I love you."

He is my Reality, to be sure. My perceptions may cave with emotions, or be influenced by the opinions of others, but He stays the same. Mind if I rest there today?

The Sun Shines Brighter when the Fog Lifts

Have you ever been in a fog?

I've been there, slogging my way through, not sure what I'm thinking, not sure what life's all about. I compare it a bit to stupor. There's this vague sense that something's not quite right, or a memory has more meaning but we can't mine it.

I had one of those benign memories--one I'd repeated to others in detail, thinking it a happy memory. But one day the fog lifted. The sun shone. And I realized that the memory was anything but benign. It was something I'd placed parameters on in my mind, making it palatable to me. When I stopped a moment and thought about it in light of the new realization, I grieved. With the parameters removed, the memory's starkness glared at me.

I can't remember ever crying that hard. A weight shifted onto my chest, burying me in grief. I gulped in sobs. And I prayed. And others prayed.

Then I saw Him. The Light shining after the fog. Jesus entered into the memory, scooped me up, held me to Himself. I forgot the fog in the moment, forgot the weight on my chest, forgot the grief. In a very real way, He re-made the memory, reminding me of His sovereignty over all--even difficult, foggy memories.

I pray the same for you today. That in the midst of a painful memory, you'll be able to see Jesus there, grieving alongside, holding you. May His light burn away the pain. Even today.

The Simplicity of Following Jesus

The Lord brought to mind two things today while I worked out under a relentless Texas sun. The first, a Scripture: "But I am afraid that, as the serpent deceived Eve by his craftiness, your minds will be led astray from the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ" (2 Corinthians 11:3).

The second, the lyrics of a song I sang at Young Life so many years ago. 

He's Everything to Me:

by Ralph Carmichael

In the stars His handiwork I see,
On the wind He speaks with majesty,
Though He ruleth over land and sea,
What is that to me?

I will celebrate Nativity,
For it has a place in history,
Sure, He came to set His people free,
What is that to me?

Till by faith I met Him face to face,
and I felt the wonder of His grace,
Then I knew that He was more  than just a
God who didn't care,
That lived a way out there and

Now He walks beside me day by day,
Ever watching o'er me lest I stray,
Helping me to find that narrow way,
He's Everything to me.

(Last time I wrote about the Young Life songbook, I got several requests to purchase it. You can buy used copies on Amazon, but I found this to be more helpful.)

I love the simplicity of this song, how it brings the singer from far to close, from away to near. We look at the stars, knowing there's a creator, but what in the world does that have to do with little ol' us? It's not until we meet Jesus face to face that everything becomes clear.

I thought a lot about this today, how complicated I've made my devotion to Christ. It's actually quite simple.

Follow the narrow way.


Walk beside Jesus day by day.

Live in such a way that Jesus becomes everything.

What is it that pulls me away from following, walking and living this way?

• Worry
• Complications
• Circumstances
• Fear
• Busyness
• Relationships
• A crowded head

What about you? What pulls you away from simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ? When has Jesus been your everything?

Who are you?

You are not the person devalued by others' casual opinions.

You are not the sum of your righteous (or unrighteous) acts.

You are not a thing to be consumed or used.

You are not small and unworthy.

You are not insignificant.

You are not deserving of deceit.


You are not the words spoken over you.

You are not what they say you are.

You are who He says you are.


Beloved.


Welcomed.


Cherished.


Powerfully weak.


Beautifully rejuvenated.


Whole.

That's who you are.

That's who I am.

Though it's a battle to believe the right Voice.

Lord, speak life over me, over my friends reading this post. Help us to hear Your aspirational whispers over us, Your words of courage and power and love and acceptance and grace. We need that Voice. Forgive us for letting the other voices rule our minds. Help us feel Your favor. Help us rest in Your pleasure right now. Amen.

Write a Powerful Novel Proposal: Launching Today!

Today I’m launching a new product on my website called Write a Powerful Fiction Proposal. (Scroll down; it's below the Nonfiction proposal tutorial.)

For you novelists out there seeking publication, you may ask yourself, why would I need a fiction proposal? Don't I just need a synopsis and three sample chapters? 


My answer: 
 

Since today’s fiction acquisition market has become increasingly competitive, publishing houses are not only interested in stunning stories—they’re looking for saleable stories, ones that will garner a greater market share.

How do they know if your novel could be that book? Through a skillfully wrought proposal. The kind of proposal that woos acquisition editors and marketing folks alike. The kind that stuns the publishing committee and lands you an advance. The kind you send to an agent, and the agent picks up the phone, dialing your number...

I will help you write that proposal. 

Here are some of the benefits of the product:

1. Over 75 pages of content, including teaching, real-life samples, and templates
2. A detailed overview of the 10 parts of a fiction proposal
3. Actual novel query samples that sold
4. The nuts and bolts of writing a synopsis plus examples
5. Special feature: how to write an attention grabbing first page, with checklist and examples
6. 3 actual proposals
7. Checklist of common grammatical/formatting/usage errors (good to use in any writing project)
8. Once your manuscript is finished: a fiction pitfalls checklist
9. A blank template to easily create your own proposal in Word
   

Please pass this information on to your critique group and novelist friends who are struggling to get published. I would really appreciate it. The launch is today!


And for those of you who write nonfiction, there's a proposal tutorial for you as well. It has many of the same benefits as above, but is exclusively for those who write nonfiction It's the first product here. 

 

Two of my pastors wrote this book about the importance of home.

I'm thrilled to announce It Starts at Home, a recent book by author Kurt Bruner and my pastor, Steve Stroope. I've asked them some questions that I think will relate well to you and your needs. Enjoy!

What is the best thing a parent can do to help their kids fall in love with Jesus? 


Show them a great marriage.  According to Ephesians 5 every marriage is intended to be a masterpiece reflecting THE marriage between Christ and His bride.  When we nurture a committed, passionate, self-sacrificial relationship with a spouse we turn “the Word” into a flesh-and-blood reality rather than remote concepts.   

What specific ways can Jesus-loving families reach out to kids who come from broken homes? 
 
Simple – invite them to stay for family dinner once in a while.  Every child needs routine exposure to the nurturing soil of a God-honoring home.  If they don’t experience it in their own family they can receive “free samples” from the wider body of Christ.      

In what ways does a parent’s past affect they way she/he parents today? How can she/he overcome a difficult upbringing? 


Home is the primary context of our spiritual formation, for better or worse.  The experiences we had growing up heavily influence the patterns we adopt as parents.  As we say in the book:  “If you’ve ever been part of a loving, healthy family you have smelled the sweet aroma of heaven.  If you’ve ever lived in a troubled, broken home you have breathed the foul stench of hell.”  

Those experiences form our identity, expectations and obstacles.  So we get honest about past hurts – not to heal ourselves, but to identify areas needing intentionality.  Like Soldiers storming Normandy for the sake of others, we heroically give our children something better than we received in order to break the generational cycle.  Jesus knew what he was talking about when he said we find our lives by losing it.