An Advent Lament

I love my job. It is fulfilling and rewarding and... well, incredibly, incredibly special. But...

I am exhausted.

Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Exhausted.

We have hit mid-December, and every time I look down at my calendar, a little piece of me cries. You see, my calendar is full. Every single day I have at least one meeting or Christmas luncheon or work activity or pageant practice or... something. On top of all my normal somethings. Every. single. day. in. December.

So, each morning, I sit at my desk and make a to-do list that is about twice as long as the lists I made each day throughout the rest of the year. And each morning, I wonder how I will possibly get everything done, knowing that nothing can be put off until tomorrow because there won't be time then, either. Sleep is becoming optional and caffeine necessary. Physical exhaustion has taken over.

I have a Christmas tree in my office that I tend to stare at when I am feeling just a tad overwhelmed. I let my kids decorate it a few weeks ago, and one of them placed two ornaments on the same branch right at the very top of the tree. The ornaments are words, covered in sparkly glitter, that seem to jump at you when the twinkle lights hit them just right. Joy. Peace. I love these words, as they remind me of what I cherish so much about Christmas. This year, however, it feels that my world is fraught with the antithesis of these words.

Each day, I am in relationship with people who have lost loved ones. Who have lost jobs. Who are anxious that such a loss is coming. Each day, as I am freezing my warmly dressed behind off, I pass by friends out in the snow who have no place to go to get warm or fed. I watch people in stores spend hundreds-- maybe even thousands-- of dollars at the check-out counter but arent willing to drop even a dollar in the bucket as they pass that person ringing a bell.

I attended a beautiful service this Sunday that was designed for those who have lost loved ones. It was an opportunity for people to have a moment of mourning in the midst of a season where we are expected (required?) to be continuously joyful. As I looked around the room and cried with friends who had lost children or spouses or parents this year, as I remembered those loved ones I had lost, as we lit candles in remembrance of them, I couldnt help but to compare the emotions of that moment with the ones we "should" have this time of year. Emotional exhaustion has taken over.

Recently, in our office, a visitor came in and stopped to chat with several of us who were about to eat our lunch. The lady, smiling brightly, bubbled as she said to us, "It must be the most amazing and joyous thing to work in a church at Christmas!" As she walked away, there was an audible groan from all of us. Yes, Advent and Christmas in the church can be magical. When you look at the 100 bikes that have been donated for charity sitting in our commons area. When you prepare to welcome the homeless guests in our gym for a week and hear how excited our church members are to cook them meals. When you have a child ask you if they can be a penguin in the nativity scene of the Christmas pageant. When you have to explain what the words "haste," and "laud" mean to kids or come up with an answer to why we sing Gloria about egg shells.

Perhaps, even more so, when I take a moment to look around and think, "Joy to the World! The Lord is come! Let earth receive her King!" Unfortunately, those moments are few and far between. During the Advent season, we staffers preach and teach about patiently waiting for the coming of Christ. We encourage congregants to be counter-cultural and bask in the glory of God's coming to earth rather than to be swept up in the hustle and bustle of the season. All the while, we do just the opposite. We double our to-do lists, we have extra services, we plan and implement more activities and mission events and christmas concerts and bible studies. We do more visits (the holidays are a lonely time for some) and say "yes" to more things because... well, it's Christmas. We give up our days off and neglect our home/ social lives. We practice poor self care. We worry about end of year budgets and deadlines and paperwork. And sometimes I wonder to myself, "Have I... has the Church... forgotten the meaning of Christmas?"

I dont think we have-- I'm pretty sure Jesus will still end up in our literal and proverbial mangers next week, but I do know this: we are spiritually exhausted. I am spiritually exhausted.

When I lay on my couch at night, staring at the ceiling, thinking of how I have neglected my family and friends and dog, thinking of how those Christmas cards probably wont get sent out, thinking of how my reappearance into the dating world is colored by the fact that I dont actually have time to devote attention to another person, thinking about how all I really want for Christmas is 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep...or, worse, for it just to be "over"...

Well, I am pretty sure this is not what Jesus would do. In fact, I think he would be asking me why the things I do in ministry are preventing me from actually doing ministry. And I would have no good answer. *sigh*

All you need is Love

Happy Wednesday!

Last year, at the beginning of Advent, I undertook a project that was a thorn in my side. I decided, on a whim, that I needed eight 4'x6' foot backdrops. I needed them built and primed. Oh yeah, and I wanted them designed and painted, too, in the Advent theme. So for two straight weeks, I ate, drank and breathed those boards. Sometimes, I look down at my hands and still think I see hints of purple and pink paint there.

Tonight, as our children were practicing for the Christmas pageant, I couldnt help but stare at the boards set up behind them. Hope. Peace. Joy. Love. I had been thinking about what I would write in this message to you tonight and, because we are focusing on Joy, I kept trying to make something work. Joy is pink and stands out from the others... Joy looks and feels different... Joy (to the world)...Joy (down in my heart)...Joy (to the fishes in the deep blue sea)... I had nothing.

Rather, I kept coming back to the "Love" board and remembering a quote from one of my very favorite TV shows. In the show, the main character says to one of the other characters: "Sometimes love isn't always enough." And after a brief, very thoughtful moment, he meets her gaze and replies, "Yeah, it is. You go without it long enough, and you realize... it's everything."

Obviously, the characters here were talking about romantic love, but tonight I have been thinking about the many kinds of love and how hard it must be for those who go without it. Especially during this time of year, we are hyper-aware of those people all around us who go without. Without homes. Without jobs. Without food. Without Christmas gifts. We donate our time and money and gifts to organizations. We drop change in the buckets outside of stores and pick angels off of trees. We give generously from our wallets... but, I wonder if we give just as generously from our hearts.

If you are like me, it's "easy" to pick out a toy or donate some money or even cook a meal for those people who are struggling at Christmas; it is much harder to love on someone by being transparent and present. This time of year is not just about donating food to the hungry, but sitting down and eating with them. It is not just about giving a child a toy, but playing with and mentoring them. It is not just about dropping cookies off to your lonely elderly neighbor, but about spending a few minutes talking with them.

Friends, there are many people all around us who are going without love. People who are alone. People who are hurting. People who are hungry and cold and in pain. People in hospitals with no family close by. People on the streets with no one to turn to. People who know brokenness, addiction, depression, or loss. People who need to be reminded of their worth in the eyes of God and you.

As we speed towards Christmas in the next couple weeks, I offer you this challenge: open your wallets, donate your gifts, provide people with meals. But also, and most importantly, offer someone--who might not otherwise receive it-- love. Offer them a hug, a listening ear, a sense of self-worth and dignity. You see, money and gifts are not always enough, but-- for those who go without it long enough-- love, well, it's everything. 

Sending you love and joy this night,
Amanda

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Today is one of those days. You know the kind. The clouds are gray and swollen and your stomach flutters in anticipation of the coming snow. Wrapped in a quilt and snuggled in your warm home with a cup of cocoa, you sit and watch... prepared for that which has been promised to you-- a magical, beautiful, hopeful scene of glorious snowflakes.

As I sit and wait, I am reminded of a handful of conversations I have had in the last 24 hours. It seems that many of my friends, whether men or women, single or married, working or in school, happy or sad, with or without children... many of them have this same sentiment: we're all waiting in anticipation for our life to "begin."

Yesterday, I laughed with several friends as we semi-jokingly discussed the merits and need for a Yenta. This morning, someone sought my advice about "game-playing" and he asked me:  in regards to other people, how transparent is too transparent? This afternoon, I chatted with a friend who struggles with complacency with their life and fear of trying something new.

In each of these conversations, the topic always came back to this truth: we are waiting for our life to begin. It is as if we believe that only once we are married, or have a certain job, or have a child, or buy a house, or fight for ourselves, or travel the world, or make a lot of money, or... only then, will our life truly begin.

As I have tossed this idea around today and taken stock of my own life, I realize that this is true for me as well. I keep waiting for... I don't know what. For my life to look the way I want it to, perhaps?  As any of my friends will attest, I am no risk taker. I live in a world of beige. I always pick the path well-traveled. I am sensible and vanilla and... boring. I have big dreams but rarely pursue them or do anything to achieve them. I avoid vulnerability and often fear looking like a fool in front of others. The irony, though, is that those times when I have protected my ego at all costs are the times when I have been the most foolish. They are the times I have missed out on something spectacular because I was afraid, because I wasn't willing to trust, because I was insecure, because I was stubborn.

I cant not help but wonder how I think my life will ever "begin" if I am not willing to take a risk.

Then, I remember this truth: I am in my home, curled up with a quilt by the Christmas tree. There is a Christmas movie on tv and cupcakes baking in the oven. My pup is snoring quietly beside me and my phone keeps buzzing as family and friends call to share a piece of their life with me. Yes, I am waiting for the snow to work it's beauty and magic in my day, to add a special glisten to my afternoon, but my day is already full of love and joy and pure happiness.

Sure, those snowflakes will add to the splendor, but even if the snow doesn't fall, my life has begun. And it is already good and special and magical, just the way it is.

Joy to the World!

Friends,

Happy Wednesday!

"Rejoice in the Lord always! Again, I say: Rejoice!" -Philippians 4:4

Do you ever find it hard to be joyful? Today, we welcome in the month of December. A time of holidays and family and friends. We wait in anticipation for the celebration of Christ's birth and everywhere you go, it seems people are filled with cheer and love. In children's ministry this month, we are focusing on the topic of Joy and, as I was reading the material today, this line stuck out to me: "finding joy and peace in the Lord, even when things don't go your way."

Perhaps I am in the minority, but things rarely go the way I want or plan.

Life is full of loops and turns and twists. And disappointments. And hurt. And brokenness. Some of us are worried about our jobs, or paying our bills, or where our next meal will come from. Some of us are struggling with health issues or loneliness or broken families or mourning the loss of loved ones. Some of us read the verse above and think, "What do I have to rejoice about?"

For those of you who have been following these weekly devotions for the last year, you know that I don't believe in sugar coating. I don't think that being a Christian is about offering trite platitudes. I wrestle with a lot of topics the same way you do, and so I spent all morning asking myself how I could write to you about Joy without glossing over the realities of pain in many of our lives.

Just as I was about to give up and "forget" to write today's Wednesday Words, God reminded me of this:

Today is World AIDS Day. Today is the 55th anniversary of Rosa Parks' stand against racial injustice. Today is the first day of Hanukkah. Today, we remember President Lincoln's 1862 State of the Union Address, where he began with these words:  "Since your last annual assembling, another year of health and bountiful harvests has passed, and while it has not pleased the Almighty to bless us with a return of peace, we can but press on, guided by the best light He gives us, trusting that in His own good time and wise way all will yet be well."

As I thought about those struggling with disease and death and malnutrition and racism and religious persecution and war, I was reminded of why I follow Christ in the first place. Jesus did not come to earth to offer us perfect lives. In Luke 4 (and Isaiah 58... and pretty much the entire Gospel!), the Bible tells us that Jesus came to dwell among his people. To live in the midst of the suffering and pain and to walk with us. The thing I often find most beautiful about my faith is that God did not come to earth in worldly majesty, but in the heart of poverty and persecution.

Here is our Joy, friends!

Joy is not that our lives are perfect or that everything always goes our way. Rather, Joy is knowing that we have a God who stands with us, in both times of abundance and times of scarcity. We have a God who stands with us in times of peace and times of war. We have a God who stands with us in times of health and times of sickness. We have a God who stands with us always. There is much joy in the love and presence of our Lord and "we can but press on, guided by the best light He gives us, trusting that in His own good time and wise way all will yet be well."

Rejoice in the Lord always. Again, I'll say: Rejoice!

Blessings and Joy to all of you,

Amanda

Perspective Shifted

Happy Wednesday!

As we are only one week away from Thanksgiving (my very favorite holiday!), I have spent a lot of time this week thinking about things that I am thankful for. Every year, it seems to me, my list is mostly the same. I am thankful for my family and my friends and... blah blah blah all of the other cookie cutter answers.

Earlier this week, however, I was challenged and inspired to shift my perspective and find ways to be thankful for the things that I usually grumble about during this time of year. Some of these are my own, some are borrowed from others.

I am thankful for a full calendar of events and activities, because it means that I have a job and friends.
I am thankful for student loan bills, because it means that I was able to get a great education.
I am thankful for the clothes that might be a little snug, because it means I have more than enough to eat.
I am thankful for the housework that needs doing, because it means I have a home.
I am thankful for all of the complaining I hear about the government, because it means we have freedom of speech.
I am thankful for the people who push my buttons and force me out of my comfort zone, because they make me into a better, more patient, more understanding person.
I am thankful for the parking spot at the far end of the lot, because it means that I have transportation, and the ability to walk.
I am thankful for my heating bill, because it means I am warm.
I am thankful for the never-ending loads of laundry, because it means I have clothes to wear.
I am thankful for having to take the dog out, in the middle of the night, in the cold, because it means that I am a good mommy.
I am thankful for that one annoying Christmas song that is overplayed on the radio, because it means I can hear.
I am thankful for weariness at the end of the day, because it means I have been productive.
I am thankful for broken hearts and mourning losses, because it means I have loved others.
I am thankful for slightly intrusive friends and family, because it means that others love me.
I am thankful for 14-hour car rides, because it means I am able to be home for the holiday.
I am thankful for the grumpy people out Christmas shopping, because they remind me to check my own attitude. 
I am thankful for the stress of gift giving, because it means I am being thoughtful of others.
I am thankful for arguments with others, because it means that I am passionate about what I believe.
I am thankful for having to ask forgiveness (probably after said argument), because it means that I understand that seeking and granting true forgiveness are the only ways to heal brokenness.

... and especially this year, I am thankful for all of my children, hyped up on candy canes and cookies, who ask me a million questions, make messes, and often require my undivided attention, because it means that I am in relationship with them and have the opportunity to teach them about loving God and loving people. And, because I get to learn from them every day how to have the faith and love of a child. There are few greater gifts in my life than that.

I pray this week, as we head into a season of Thanksgiving and Advent, that God will move in our hearts and shift our perspectives so that we will find the many blessings God has given us, even when they are disguised in something that we might consider a difficulty or burden.

Wisdom for the 17-year-old Amanda

It should come as no surprise to many of you that I often scan through the radio stations while in my car. When you pair my eclectic taste in music with my impatience over commercials and mediocre songs, I often annoy people with the the amount of channel flipping I do. Tonight, while doing a little Christmas shopping, I stumbled across a country song. The premise of the song, in short, was about the types of things you would include in a letter to your 17-year-old self. I spent a good part of the evening thinking about this.

The woman I am now is quite a bit different than the girl I was then. Sure, my general character is still the same. I am still pretty traditional and corny. I still like a lot of the same things. I still am passionate about my faith and family and friends. I still get excited over holidays and fireworks and lightning bugs. I still make a lot of mistakes. But, I am different. I spent the last few hours thinking about the things in my life over the last 8 years that have changed me. Shaped me. Hurt me. Humbled me. Made me a better person.

So, what do I wish I could tell my 17-year-old self?  

1. Lighten up. Laugh at yourself. Life is not always meant to be so serious.
2. The world is not black and white. Learn to accept grey. Learn to enjoy grey. 
3. Some friendships are not worth the effort and drama they bring.
4. Be friends anyway. Relationships make you a better person. Even the hurtful ones. If you push everyone away, you'll end up lonely. Really lonely.
5. Don't worry, you are going to have some amazing friends. They make it worth it. Promise.
6. Being judgmental is narrow-minded. Listen more. You might learn something.
7. If you have doubts about someone from the beginning, don't date them. Trust me.
8. Mom and Dad know a lot more than you think they do.
9. Dont give up on your dreams. You'll regret it.
10. Don't be afraid to try something new. Even if you don't like it, at least you tried.
11. Don't speed-- you'll end up getting a lot of tickets. You only can cry your way out of about half.
12. You're a great procrastinator. It is your strength and you will still do great, but you won't get much sleep.
13. Stay away from credit cards.
14. Dark hair is not a good look on you.
15. You're vanilla. Embrace it. There's a reason why vanilla is the most popular flavor. It's good.
16. You hate hospitals. That doesn't change. In fact, it gets worse.
17. The only one responsible for your happiness (or unhappiness) is you. Adjust your attitude. Choose to be happy. The only thing you can change is yourself.
18. Time heals, but doesn't erase, wounds. Hurts can have long-lasting effects. Don't be hurtful or spiteful or so cynical.
19. While you like to argue, and can be quite good at it, you'll find that it's usually not worth it. Kick the habit, girl. Winning isn't everything.
20. Love God. Love people. Love is a verb. (see previous post)

Love is a verb.

Happy Wednesday!

Last week, as I was spending time with some of our children, I noticed one of them had written this on the white board:  

"Love is a verb." 

Knowing this child, I was aware that they own a t-shirt that carries this exact message, and I remember thinking, "I wonder if they understand what that means, and how powerful a message that is."  My instinct is that they understand the message even better than I do.

Over the last week, as I have tossed that moment around in my mind, I remember myself at 8 years old. That year, for Easter, I received a Bible and a bookmark with my name on it. At that age, I was thrilled to have things that included my name: a Boston tape (yes, I loved 80s music even then), a monogrammed bag, pencils, notepads, you name it. Thus, my new favorite bookmark read, "Amanda-- Latin: Worthy of Love" and then had a Psalm to accompany it. I remember often looking at that bookmark and naively thinking that it meant I was entitled to a fairy tale- the love of prince charming all wrapped up in sunshine and rainbows and me always having perfectly combed hair and fancy clothes. After all, my name literally meant that I deserved that, right?

As I grew and matured (and, perhaps, grew a little more cynical) in my teenage years, I sort of defined myself by the word "worthy." Who was worthy? Why? How do you become worthy? And in relation to love, does that mean that some aren't? If I was involved in these types of things, went to these types of events, made these types of grades, had these types of friends... then, would I be worthy?

Now, I choose to define myself by the word "love."

I know this to be true: love is no fairytale. It is hard. Really, really hard. Love is a verb. It conveys action. Love requires us to forgive. To be patient. To be humble. To be selfless. To trust. To hope. To persevere. Take a look at 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. These verses are so commonly used that I think we forget what they mean. Love requires us to accept people who are different than we are. Different races, different religions, different economic statuses, different political parties, different points of view, different ages and genders and sexual orientations. Love requires us to look someone in the eye that has hurt us... and ask for, and offer, forgiveness.  Love requires us to listen. Love means we dont judge.

As people who are followers of Christ, who seek relationship with him, hear these words: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, and all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. ALL the Law and the prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matthew 22: 37-40)

Love is our greatest command. Our greatest call. Love God. Love people.

Love, my friends, is a verb.

A Girl For All Seasons

I have been thinking a lot about seasons this month-- and even more heavily this week. Summer. Fall. Back-to-school season. Hurricane season. Baseball season. Football season. Tourist season. Wedding season. Holiday season. It seems there are seasons for just about everything. Seasons of sun and smiles. Seasons of loss and pain. Seasons of entertainment and work. Seasons of destruction and chaos. Seasons of love and joy.

For those of you who have seen Grease 2, there is a scene where the Pink Ladies perform in a talent show dressed according to the the month and season for which they represent. In the middle of the song and dance, Michelle Pfeiffer ("Stehpanie Zanoni"), dressed as a Christmas tree in Winter, loses focus and stares off into space while those around her keep performing. The song and dance continues but she is frozen in time, trapped by a memory. The symbolism always strikes me; Stephanie is frozen in the season of Winter-- a time that is consistently symbolic of barrenness and cold. A season that typically represents struggle and hopelessness. A season that resonates with her in that moment.


Often, I find myself caught up in whatever season I currently am in. I jump with both feet into soaking up the sun of summer. I sport my Duke blue all throughout March madness. I decorate (profusely) for holidays and do all of the cliche activities associated with them. I buy school supplies in August, despite the fact that I am no longer a student. I pick flowers in Spring.

This year, as Fall approaches (my favorite season, I might add), I am aware of something that I have not often thought of before. Fall, in all it's beauty and cool weather and holiday splendor, is a time of change and even death. Leaves are dying. Cold is setting in. Fall is the precursor to cold and snow and ice.

Despite that, I yearn for Fall. Perhaps it is because I know that Winter does not last forever. Perhaps it is because I know that Spring will bring with it new life and color and joyful splendor. Perhaps it is because I have learned that we are not trapped in one season forever.

Like Stephanie, sometimes we lose our focus. Sometimes we get stuck in a season. Sometimes we forget what comes next. Sometimes all we can see is Fall and Winter, and we forget that Spring brings with it new life. I am reminded today that I was created to be "A Girl for All Seasons," even when I have lost my focus momentarily.

What in the world are you doing?

Friends,

Happy Wednesday! :)

"What in the world are you doing?"
This is a common question to escape my lips. As far as slang phrases go, this one is by far one of my favorites! It can mean many, many things depending on who is on the receiving end of it and I can use it in almost any state of emotion. For example, there are days when I come home and my dog has pulled out every single toy he owns and strewn them over the entirety of our apartment: "WHAT IN THE WORLD are you doing?" There are days when I walk into my co-workers, Lauren or Amy's, office and they are working in a "creative" fashion: (laughing) "What in the world ARE you doing?!" There are days when my computer freezes and I want to throw it out my window: "What in the world are you DOING?"

Today, however, I pose this question to you: "What. In the World. Are you. Doing?"

As we enter into June, the children in my church will be learning about the virtue of Responsibility and how that relates to God's call in our lives. We are responsible for Creation. We are responsible for service. We are responsible for loving one another. We are responsible for being good stewards of what God has given us. We are responsible for using the gifts we have to bring glory to God. We are responsible for caring for our neighbor. We are responsible for sharing the love and goodness and faithfulness and power of God with all the world. We have many responsibilities, friends.

As we move toward summer, we will continue this spiritual practice and the kiddos will be able to learn and experience the wonders of God's creation throughout July and August. Each week, we will study a day of Creation and will have field trips to the Planetarium, the Science Museum, Maymont Park, and the Zoo that correspond with our study. We will also learn about service and recycling from a local specialist. Our children will spend the next few months practicing the responsibility that God has entrusted us with-- a responsibility to Creation, to service, to one another.

With this in mind, I ask you again: "What. In the World. Are you. Doing?" How are you caring for the earth, for your neighbor, for the marginalized? How is your family learning about service and stewardship? What--in our world, in our country, in our community, in our congregations--are you and your family doing to bring glory to God? And...what are you NOT doing?

I pray that God reveals to each of you this week a new way that you can answer the call: "What in the world are you doing?"


Many, many blessings,
Amanda

Patience Reprised

Friends,

Happy Wednesday!

This is our last week studying the virtue of patience, and quite honestly, I am feeling glad about that. In my faith journey this month I have come to realize just how much I have to grow in patience and it is sometimes frustrating to admit. :)

Last week, I celebrated my 7th month here at Bon Air as the Director of Christian Education. In reality, that is not much time... barely more than half a year. I have learned and loved and listened in this community. I have spent the last seven months praying for our children, for our church, for God's work. Seven months of practicing the call I feel God has placed on me. Seven months of being in ministry and relationship with each of you. In many, many, many ways I have seen God work all around me... and in other ways I have struggled to be patient. My mind and heart are constantly filled with new ways for us to grow as a community and as a ministry. Every where I look I see opportunities for our kids to grow in their faith, in their service to others, in their love of Christ.

However, if I have learned anything in seven months, it is that patience is a spiritual discipline for a reason. By nature, I am a "doer" and I want things to happen. BUT, things don't work in my time, they work in God's time. This has been a hard lesson for me this month. In my spiritual life, in my professional life, in my personal life-- I have been impatient for God's direction and movement. 

Can any of you relate? Are there places in your life where you are impatient for God to move? Maybe you are a "doer" like me and you want to force God's timing along. Perhaps you just are tired of waiting and waiting and waiting.

Here's the good news I have for you today. Even in our impatience, God is faithful. When I look around me a second time, I see all of the very, very many blessings and fulfilled promises God has given me (and us!) in the last seven months. Like those Israelites from week 1, it is easy to be impatient as we wait on God; but we also must remember that even in (what seems like) a wilderness, our God is forever present.

Blessings,
Amanda

Patience is a virtue!

Happy Wednesday!

If any of you were to ask me, I'd tell you I'm a pretty patient person. I keep a cool and stable demeanor while waiting for things. I don't yell at people in public who inconvenience me. I still tip servers 20%, even if I waited an hour for my dinner. I deal with a wide spectrum of personalities. I work with kiddos (and let's face it, you HAVE to be patient with them!). None of this phases me (much) and I am actually one of those annoying people who say things like, "Patience is a virtue." However, when it comes to God, I find I have the patience of a 2-year-old. Maybe not even that.

This month, we here in children's ministry have been focusing on practicing Patience. Last week, we heard the story of the wandering Israelites and their impatience in the desert. After being freed from oppression in Egypt, the Israelite people (led by Moses) wandered in the desert for 40 years, waiting for God to lead them to the Promised Land. In their impatience, the people began to doubt God and God's presence and providence in their life. They complained. They wanted to turn around and go back (to slavery!). They built golden calves in hopes of finding a new god.

Half of me (probably the self-righteous half) reads these stories and thinks "What the heck?! God freed them from bondage! God gave them clear signs of His presence and provision! God gave these crazy people just a few commandments (10, in fact) and they STILL couldn't suck it up? Did they REALLY think a golden cow was going to make their life better?"

Be careful, friends. The moment you begin to think that way, God often reveals to you how very much you are like the Israelites. As I was pointing my judgmental nose at our religious ancestors, I began to wonder, "How often has God freed me from something that was really hurting me... and how often have I longed to just turn around and go back to it? How often has God revealed His presence in my life... and how often have I ignored it? How often have I had to wander and trust (not even for 40 years... shoot, probably not even for 40 days!) and God gets a piece of my whiny, complaining mind? How often have I sought financial gain, the favor of others, or some other 'golden calf' over the assurances of God?" Too often. Way too often.

We all find ourselves in times of wilderness and wandering.

Here's the good news: God is present. God provides. God fulfills promises.
Here's the bad news: Sometimes you just have to be patient.

Praying that each of you are reminded this week of God's presence in your life and that His promises remain, even in your impatience.

Many, many blessings,
Amanda

Lions and Tigers and Bears... oh my!

One of the perks of my job is that I get to do some really fun things as part of my ministry. Yesterday, I was invited to participate in our preschool's "Zoo Day" as a way to spend time with the children and meet their parents. I was incredibly excited... after all, kiddos and a field trip to the zoo... what could be better?

After Lauren and I arrived at the zoo, mingled some, and got checked in, we began to leisurely wander toward the various exhibits. We watched monkeys play, marveled at the camels, and I even fed a giraffe! However, I spent quite a bit of time stressing because the Richmond Zoo does not offer maps.

Now, this zoo is privately owned and relatively small, so they dont actually NEED maps, but I needed one. I like to have a plan, create a specific course, make sure that I hit all of the things I want to see in an order that doesnt force backtracking. You know at amusement parks when you see those crazy tourist-looking people with fanny packs and souvenirs and their noses always stuck in a map (except when they are snapping pictures of EVERYTHING)?? That's me... minus the fanny pack and souvenirs. When I go to Disney or some other park, I plan the entire day with my map, so that I can hit every ride, show, and parade that I want to see. I make sure that water rides are in the heat of the day and that food and restroom breaks are planned into the schedule. I am annoying. I am efficient. I am a gal with a plan.

Now, cut back to the zoo. Yesterday, without my map and plan, I felt lost and out of control. I still got to see all of the animals. I still remained on schedule. But, I had to keep reminding myself to enjoy the things around me and stop worrying about my blasted map. After a while, and a little backtracking, I loosened up and stopped caring so much that I wasnt following a certain order. I listened to the children ask questions. I laughed at the antics of the animals. I savored the moment... and I had a fabulous time.

Often, God has to remind me to let go of my controlling tendencies and show me that my plan is not always going to work out. After the initial discomfort and maybe a little backtracking, I am reminded that I should stop worrying and enjoy the moment. I cant go through life with a fanny pack and a map and an agenda that is planned for every minute. But, I can loosen up, take a look around me, and enjoy where I am. I can laugh and play and have a fabulous time... even without my map.

Buffet Plates

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of a visit from my very best friends, Amy and Darren. These two have been a shining spot in my life for the last six years. Amy was my "Big Sister" in our sorority in college. Darren was my boss at two different jobs. I was the maid of honor in their wedding. We lived near each other in both Lakeland, FL and Durham, NC. They are more than friends; they are family.

Amy is the kind of sister everyone wants but rarely gets. Supportive. Thoughtful. Caring. Fun.

Darren, on the other hand, is exactly the kind of brother most people have. Teasing. Annoyingly Protective. Argumentative. Darren and I, though we love each other, usually fight like brother and sister, intentionally goading the other one to see just how far we can push the other before they break.

This weekend, the three of us were constantly on the go. On Saturday, we drove a short way to one of my favorite places in Richmond, the Short Pump Town Center. This is an outdoor mall with many stores, great restaurants, and a lovely atmosphere. The weather was beautiful, the flowers were blooming, and we were equipped with frozen drinks and comfortable shoes.

As we wove through many of the stores, Amy and I brainstormed ideas for how to redecorate their bedroom. Thus, it was essential for us to hit all of the fancy home stores (some of my favorite places!). Towing Darren along, Amy and I fawned over everything we saw in Pottery Barn, Williams & Sonoma and Crate & Barrel.

As we turned the corner into the kitchen section of Crate & Barrel, Darren suddenly decided to have some fun at my expense. He began loudly proclaiming his need for Buffet Plates.

This wouldnt have been so bad... except that he pronounced them "Buff-it Plat-ays." 

I was mortified. 

Despite my general social mindedness (and my admittedly low income), I can not deny that I enjoy the finer things in life. I love the idea of sophistication and finery. I own Emily Post books (and I follow them!). I enjoy china and dinner parties. I dream of attending black tie affairs in beautiful gowns and having an entire house full of Crate & Barrel things, despite how expensive they are. I recognize that my taste is impractical and semi-ridiculous, but I cant help it.

Cue Darren, my best friend from a small back-woods Florida town, loudly going on about "buff-it plat-ays" in his subtly southern-accented voice. People, including sales clerks, were staring. I briefly considered if I could walk away as if I didnt know him, but certainly Darren would have followed me. Knowing my weaknesses and mortification, Darren laughed, enjoying himself at my expense. Thankfully, we were soon on our way out of the store and I could breathe again.

What is it that makes us so concerned about what others think of us? Why did I care about the strangers and the hillbilly impression my friend was giving off? Why did I respond with mortification rather than laughter? Did it REALLY matter what others thought? I felt as though I had been exposed... as if I didnt belong among such fine things and Darren was making that clear to everyone. He might as well have been shouting "Phony! Fraud!" as my projected image crashed to floor, shattering louder than an entire wall of falling buffet plates.


And... I am grateful. I am grateful that I have people in my life who remind me to be humble. I am grateful that I have people in my life who remind me to be genuine. I am grateful that I have people in my life who remind me to laugh (later, after the embarrassment fades).

Whether our homes come straight off the Crate & Barrel show room floor or our home is simply a C&B box, we shouldn't be embarrassed of who we are or what we (don't) have. Lesson (mostly) learned.

The Greatest Show on Earth

There is a reason I am a children's minister.

It's not just because I love kids or just because I hold such high importance in the faith of children; while those things certainly are true, I like to think God called me into this position because the way I think is not often very far off from that of a child. I am excited and enthralled by small pleasures in life. I enjoy simplicity. I enjoy fun. Color. Sparkles. Disney World. Cupcakes. Swing sets. If it's made for children, I probably love it.

Knowing that, you can imagine my excitement as several friends and I ventured to the Ringling Bros. Circus last Friday! We were in the cheapest seats possible. Our shoes stuck to the floor as we climbed stairs covered in soda and who knows what else. From every angle we were offered the opportunity to buy glowing necklaces, rubber noses, clown hats and, of course, outrageously priced cotton candy and popcorn. I was in sensory overload as I took my seat, jittery with excitement, and prepared to watch "The Greatest Show on Earth!"

As the show began, I oohed and aahed at the tight rope walkers, lion tamers, trapeze artists and dancing elephants. Especially the elephants. I marveled at the glittery costumes, the amazing contortionists, and the comical clowns. I couldnt help giggling at the way the Ring Master announced everything, as if he only knew how to speak in elongated syllables. "Annnnnnnnnd nooooooooooooow, weeeeeeee wiiiiiiiiiiiillllllllllllll alllllllllllll taaaaaaalllllllllllllllllk liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike crraaaaaaaaaazzy peeeeeeeeeeeopllllllleeee."

However, about 3/4ths of the way through the show, I began to wonder... is this REALLY the greatest show on Earth? After all, several people fell during their stunts. The show was silly in parts. If you were close enough, the people probably seemed more cheesy than impressive. If you were over the age of 10, you probably thought (at least once): "That's not real." There was a lot of glitz and glam, but not as much substance.

Of course, I began to consider the circus in relation to the church and to my faith (big shock there!). I occasionally catch a certain preacher on TV who reminds me a lot of the circus. Tons of people, tons of things there for you to spend money on, tons of glitz and glam... but no substance. I am often shocked if this particular preacher even quotes the Bible. It's all a big show, and just like at the circus, we get sucked in to it.

On a smaller, more personal scale, we have a circus mentality in many of our local churches as well. Forget the mega church and the televangelist. Many, many folks attend church each week, dressed a particular way and expecting a particular "show." We want to hear a certain type of sermon, a certain type of music, a certain type of glitz and glamor. We want to eat yummy treats (or drink yummy coffee), and we want to sit and watch something we are paying to see (tithing does not equal entitlement, though sometimes we forget that too). We forget about what it means to be a part of a church-- worship, serving, giving, mission, outreach-- which are all, by the way, about focusing on God and others rather than ourselves.

It makes me wonder, am I... are we... looking for The Greatest Show on Earth each Sunday morning or are we searching for something with a little more substance? What is the difference between sitting in a church or sitting at a circus? Do we know? Do we care?

Cleanliness close to Godliness?

I am fairly certain I have some mild form of OCD. My friends constantly tease me about it; my co-workers often joke about it. My closet is organized by color, photos on the wall have to be straight for me to concentrate, my silverware must be lined up a certain way. My shopping carts have a certain organizational pattern, as do my dishwasher, my refrigerator, and my movie collection.When my best friends, Amy and Darren, come to visit, Darren purposely rearranges my picture frames or magnets to see how long it takes me to notice (usually not very long).

With that in mind, it shouldn't surprise you that I like to clean. Now, let me be clear... I don't like planning to clean, I don't like thinking about cleaning, I don't like taking time out of my already busy schedule to clean. However, once I actually pick up a broom or sponge, I instantly remember how therapeutic it is. As I clean away the dust and dirt and dog hair (my beloved pup is shedding that winter coat at enormous rates!), I feel like I am also cleaning my soul. Everything has a home. There is no clutter, no mess, no disorganization. Everything shines and sparkles and smells fresh and clean.

Over the last couple years, I have felt a little like my pre-cleaned apartment. At a glance, everything was straight and looked pretty good. Nothing was glaringly out of place. Upon further inspection though, things were dusty, disorganized, and neglected. My spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being were left on a shelf to collect dust. They had lost their shine, their sparkle, their fresh scent.

I hated thinking about it, planning for it, or making time to fix it... but recently, I remembered to Spring clean. I remembered what it felt like to get my life back in order, to give things in my life a rightful home, to sweep and polish and throw out the old junk to make room for new, better things. My heart and soul and mind feel clean.

And, now, just like when I have a freshly cleaned home... I am happier than I have ever been. My OCD approves.

More Jesus, less religion?

They Like Jesus but Not the Church

I was in my local bookstore when that title screamed at me. I couldnt resist the urge. Out of sheer curiosity, I bought the book and it has been sitting on my desk ever since. Until yesterday...

Yesterday, I began to read this socio-religious critique/ commentary on the emerging generations and their role in the current American church. I am withholding my thoughts and insights until I complete the text, but I did find the following quote interesting:

The next generation is definitely looking for a less programmatic, more relational, and more missional kind of church... they want more Jesus and less religion.

I have been rolling this concept around in my mind. As a member of said generation... and one who works in the church... DO I want less religion and more Jesus? DO I want less programming and more relationality?

Yes, yes I do.

Across the nation, across every denomination, church leaders are asking, "Where are the young people? How do we get them into our church? How do we effectively minister to those 18-35 year olds?" Very few people are doing it well. Very few churches are doing it well. Why?

I am not sure where Dan Kimball is going to go with this text, but Amanda Stallard has a few thoughts. I cherish and honor my faith traditions. I am a theologian. I love the church.

That being said, my Jesus met in small, intimate groups for study and conversation. My Jesus ate EVERY day with the poor, the hurting, the "unclean." My Jesus cared less about politics and more about people. My Jesus lived social justice. My Jesus lived hospitality. My Jesus was relational. My Jesus was dirty and ridiculed and passionate and... radical!

Can we say those same things about our churches?

From what I have seen, my parents' generation was one who sought anonymity. They slipped into the backs of churches and wanted to be unnoticed, unrecognized, unbothered. Folks, my generation is exactly the opposite! In a culture and era of instant social networking, where cell phones and iPods and laptops replace actual human interaction, my generation is crying out to be known. To be recognized. To be relational!

Until the American church finds a way to bring us more Jesus and less religion, I think we will continue to scratch our heads and ask, "Where are the young people?"

Passion permitted

I am sick to my stomach with anxiety. It is half-time during the most important game in college basketball... and my team is up by only one point.

It doesn't take long for people to know that I am passionate about Duke basketball. I watch all the games religiously, I wear the shirts, I know the chants, I bash the Tarheels. I bleed blue... Duke blue. Whether we are winning or losing, I never waver in that loyalty, and I have faith in the fact that we will eventually prevail.

If you are a true sports fan, you understand this concept. This passion. This unwavering commitment.

I have often heard this commitment and loyalty criticized. Is it wrong to feel so strongly about a team? Is it wrong to care so much about winning? I dont know, but the way I see it, we could all use a little more passion in our lives.

I have been talking a lot with folks recently about this concept of passion, or lack thereof. It is rare to see true passion in people outside of a sports arena. What if we were all as passionate about serving others as we were about sports? What if we went to a homeless shelter religiously, wore the shirts, knew the chants, and jumped up and down yelling about loving and serving others. What if we gave as much thought, time, and money (gasp!) to the poor, the sick, the broken... as we do to our sports teams? What if we gave as much thought and time to our families and friends? Our community?

What if we bashed injustice, prejudice, and poverty as much as we bashed our rivals? What if, instead of bleeding blue (or whatever color your team is), we bled kindness and hospitality?

Friends, I believe in passion. Unwavering, committed passion. On the basketball court... and, more importantly, off of it.

Where my peeps at?

For the last week or so, I have been following Peep stories. Yes, Peeps. I have taken great joy in hearing about the "peeping"... and couldn't resist the opportunity to share with each of you!

For those of you who don't know, there is more to these sugary marshmallow holiday treats than the joy of finding them in Easter baskets or competing to see which one will expand fastest in the microwave. Peeps are changing lives... at least in the town of Hickory, NC.

A church that I had the pleasure of attending and interning at (Christ Church, Hickory) is revolutionizing the concept of hospitality in their community with Peeps! The attendees of Christ Church have been commissioned to practice random acts of kindness in the name of Peeps (and Jesus!). Church members are reaching out to people in grocery stores, nail salons, buying the meal of the person behind them in drive-thrus, and canvassing their neighborhoods with Peep boxes in hand. At last count, 8,500 boxes of Peeps had been dispersed into the community. 8,500 acts of kindness. 8,500 physical representations of God's love.

Each box of Peeps was attached with an invitation to attend Easter services at one of Christ Church's campuses. I imagine the invitations consisted of witty words like "Our peeps invite your peeps to Easter service," "Bring your peeps to Christ Church," or "Tell your peeps it's happenin' at Christ Church." While I applaud the marketing technique, I am much more impressed with the motivation behind peeping.

Christ Church is not simply trying to get folks in their doors. Rather, they genuinely care about the "peeps" in their community, and seek to be a beacon for those around them. This is not a ploy for membership, money, or attention. This is a sincere effort by the church to say, "We care about you. We do more than just spit out religious epithets... we practice hospitality. Radical, Christ-centered hospitality."

Over the last week, my facebook feed has been full of powerful stories of how peeps are changing the lives of church members and strangers alike. I have been moved by the power of kindness and hospitality and I have been reminded that this is what the very nature of my faith is about.

I imagine that if Jesus were here today, he'd hand me a box of sugar-coated marshmallows and ask, "Do you love me?
Then feed my peeps.
Clothe my peeps.
Visit my peeps.
LOVE my peeps."

I can almost hear Jesus saying to us, the Church.... "Where my peeps at?" How will we respond?

A Green G(a)linda

It is the last day of Lent. Over the last six weeks, I have both abstained from things (sugar) and practiced new disciplines (Bible studies) as a way to center myself and reflect on my relationship with God. This year, as I look back over the last six weeks, I am somewhat surprised to realize that the most spiritually transformative moment I had was not at church, in prayer time, or during Bible study. Instead, it came from a most unexpected place.

For my birthday a few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of seeing the musical Wicked. For those of you who have not seen it, Wicked is the story of the witches of Oz. After Dorothy kills Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, a celebration occurs! One of the Ozians inquires of Glinda (the Good Witch of the South): "Is it true you knew her?" and from there, the story unfolds of the witches meeting in grade school and their relationship up until the point of Elphaba's death. It is a powerful story of love and friendship, politics and power, greed and goodness.

The true beauty of the tale is in the recognition that Elphaba was not truly a wicked witch at all. She often stood against injustice, tried to do what was right, opposed the higher powers. She cared for her family and friends. However, because she was (quite literally) green, she was labeled as different and evil.

G(a)linda, on the other hand, was lovely and well-liked. She had the right pedigree, the right personality, the right popularity. In school, she was the "it" girl. She was "kind" to people. However, though her eyes were opened to injustice, she often chose not to stand against it for fear of ridicule.

Every day since I have seen the show, I have asked myself: "Are you a Glinda or an Elphaba? Who do you want to be?" I have wrestled with this idea in light of my faith. Quite honestly, I strongly desire to be the Elphaba-- a woman who stands and fights for what is right. A woman who cares less about how she is viewed than about justice. A woman who has integrity and inner-strength that far exceeds any sort of outer beauty.

But, alas, I fear that I am a Glinda. I am  a people pleaser, and I enjoy being well-liked. My eyes are certainly open to injustice and I do befriend those different than myself, but I catch myself often making many of Glinda's arguments ("I can do more to help if I have the status and the popularity, than if I must go out alone"). As a result, I water down the suffering of those around me or choose to turn a blind eye.

My faith tells me that God calls us all to be Elphabas--different, counter-cultural, just, loving-- but too many of us seek to be Glinda-- good, well-liked, kind, mediocre.

This lenten season, I have struggled with the idea of what is good and what is faithful. Where do I fit in? I pray that, despite my Glinda tendencies, I have a little tinge of green in my skin... and that I will become more and more green every day.

Asphyxiation by... bridesmaid dress?

I almost died yesterday.

Ok, perhaps that's a wee bit dramatic, but at the time, I literally was afraid that I would slip into unconsciousness before someone would save me.

Yesterday at around 5pm, my apartment was a sweltering 85 degrees. My a/c had broken (again!) and I came in from work to find myself in a sauna. Sitting on the door step was a box I had been waiting for all week and so I rushed in, tore open the box, and pulled out my bridesmaid dress. For some unfathomable reason, I decided I needed to try it on right then.

As anyone who has ever been in a wedding knows, there is always quite a bit of drama regarding bridesmaid dresses. Often, you don't get to try it on beforehand and there is quite a concern about whether said gown will fit once it finally comes in. This particular dress was even more dramatic for me, as I had no time to be measured for it prior to ordering. My very oldest friend, Katie, has a rather short engagement and so I had exactly 2 hours to order my dress from the day I was asked to be in the wedding until the order had to be filled. So, I guessed on a size.

As I was preparing to dive into the dress, I realized that the zipper stuck some and would likely be difficult to zip up on my own. In a moment of sheer brilliance, I decided that, rather than stepping into the dress and trying to zip it, I would leave it zipped and tug it over my head. Perfect plan... until the layer of boning got caught around my chest as I was tugging it on. I pulled and pulled, but to no avail. The dress would not budge. I couldnt pull it back over my head and I couldnt pull it down into place. Instead, I had a very snug-fitting layer of boning cutting off my ability to breathe. And remember that pesky zipper? Yep, completely stuck.

I began to panic! I wasn't breathing. I was sweating (did I mention that the dress has about 5 layers of floor-length chifon?). No matter how hard I tugged or twisted, I was quite literally stuck. As the room started to tilt from my lack of breathing, I crumpled to the floor. Ah! As I lay flat on my back, I realized there was just enough room to take very shallow breaths. Oxygen!

What was I going to do? My neighbors werent home (and that would have been an embarrassing introduction, since I have never talked to them before). I couldn't cut myself out of the dress. I was going to die in my apartment... from a bridesmaid dress.

The oxygen must have started restoring my rational side, because I suddenly realized... I have friends! I struggled to my feet again, feeling the agonizing loss of breath as I got vertical, and hurried for my phone. Once again on the ground, in a heap of chifon and sweat and panic, I called my friend, Lauren. No answer. Recall. No answer. Recall. No answer (LAUREN, WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I AM DYING?!). Recall.

After 5 or so attempts, she answered! In a breathy panic, I explain the situation and she rushes to my apartment to save me! After a few agonizing minutes, Lauren appears and manages to fight the zipper, freeing me to breathe again! Ah, sweet oxygen!

Being a bridesmaid is a dangerous job.

Hee Haw

For my very first blog post, I find myself at a loss for anything to say that is creative or witty or interesting. So, instead, I think I may simply share my Holy Week insights.

Each year, I read the story of Christ from the Triumphal Entry through the Resurrection and, each year, I find myself in different places in the story. Some years, I am in the crowd waving palms. Some years, I am at the Last Supper. Some years, I am Peter-- denying Jesus. Some years, Joanna-- amazed at the Resurrection of Christ. Most years... I am in the crowd shouting "Crucify!"

This year, I think I am the donkey.

Yes, you heard me right. Many of you know my call story and how, until the very day that I accepted my current job as a Christian Educator, I fought tooth and nail with God. I was NOT going to work full-time in the church. I had spent years refusing to accept the call, even though I was working in churches and attending seminary... I had literally stomped my foot, crossed my arms, and said "NOPE!" And this Holy Week... here I am. In the church. Ministering. Full-time.

In the story of the Triumphal Entry (my favorite version is in Luke 19), Jesus tells the disciples to go find a donkey that has never been ridden. It is tied up and when the disciples untie it, it's owners ask, "Why are you untying our donkey?" The disciples respond, "The Lord needs it." Then, the disciples throw their cloaks over the young, untrained animal and Jesus sits on top of it. Many would anticipate Jesus (the King of Kings!) to ride in on a glamorous horse, beautiful and well-trained and reflecting the perfect majesty of it's rider. Instead, Jesus calls the most unlikely colt to carry the burden of his weight.

Most days I consider myself ill-equipped, inexperienced, unable, and unwilling to carry the burden of Christ into the world of believers and non-believers alike. There are hundreds of others who would be better, stronger, and more fit to take my place. Until 6 months ago, sitting in a church office was the last place I wanted to be. And yet, sometimes "The Lord needs [us]." Sometimes, we are called (or led... or even dragged) into a place where we have the honor of carrying Christ to the people. Jesus sees in us, the lowly donkeys, a potential and a calling... even when we don't see it ourselves. There is nothing majestic or beautiful or holy about any of us when we stand alone... but as we carry Christ with us, we are transformed.

What a blessing to find myself as a donkey.