Church on the Trail

Two and a half years ago my friend Amy was getting ready for her 40th birthday. She announced that to celebrate the big day she would be running a half marathon. She then shared that she had never run more than a couple miles. Wow. Bold move. Well, always up for a fun running partner, I told her I would do long runs with her to get ready. 

Amy and I had been friends for several years by the time we started running together. We had served in all kinds of roles together at church- MOPS, Kids Ministry, herding camels while I was 5 months pregnant for a live nativity scene. You name it, we had done it. 

But training for a half marathon was very different. There was minimal distractions on long runs. Except for those coyotes we avoid in early morning, foul skunk encounters, rattle snake crossing in the summer, well ok, there are some distractions. But compared to large events, or the rush of children’s ministry on a Sunday morning, really it was just us, on a trail, for hours. 

Something you should know about me is that when I run, I talk the entire time. It is actually how I have learned to breath. When I run alone it is terrible. If I ever have to do it, I put on podcasts and talk to the people on it. Like I might say “oh my gosh Brandon Hatmaker. That is such a great point. I totally agree.” While I am running around Pflugerville Lake…alone. I know, very normal. But I can’t regulate my breathing while I run if I am not talking. 

So when you train with someone to run 13.1 miles, there is a lot to talk about. How to get kids to sleep, funny grocery store mishaps, movie reviews, book reviews, restaurant reviews. You know- super important life stuff. And although we did talk about those things, we started to use our time to talk about slightly deeper things like what God was doing in our life, our families life, and what God was asking of each of us. Our runs became more about Jesus, then it ever did about training or losing my baby weight.  

And here we are, a couple years later, still running together almost every weekend. Sometimes we are training for a race, and sometimes we are not, but still we meet very early each weekend to get in some miles. 

Through all of this, one of the huge changes that happened in my life was that I stopped attending a church regularly. (I know, all of you die hard church people are about to lose your 

$%&# on me right about now. Take a deep breath and get a death grip on your panties so they don’t get in a bunch.) I shared in a previous blog that I had started questioning the organized church setting and seeking Jesus for answers. My goal is always to press into Jesus, to know him more, and to know who he created me to be. I did not find that attending church, or even serving there, was helping me with this. (Note- this is just me personally, I am not saying everyone does or should feel like this. Nobody try to send your hate mail to my inbox)

People would always ask me “so what church do you go to now?” and I always just said awkwardly “uhh…nowhere?!?” (that was in my Best Ron Burgendy voice) They looked very concerned and I think they make a mental note to pray for my salvation, light a candle for me, and vow they will bring holy water with them next time we may see each other. But the truth is, I do have a church. I call it Church on the Trail. What does that look like? Well, I would LOVE to share.

This church does not have a tax exempt status or a building. There is no leader except the Holy Spirit. It doesn’t take up tithes (unless you run with me- then you must bring me gummy bears or jolly ranchers). There is no membership class, but there is a strong allegiance to each other and a commitment to grow together and be discipled by Jesus. Sometimes it is 2 of us, and sometimes there are 15 of us. It is nights of prayer, really fun dinners where peeing your pants is highly likely, bible studies, and cleaning houses for single moms. Sometimes it is my husband and I praying with another couple or teaching our kids about God’s love, or spending time with our family discussing all that God is doing. 

You see, I didn’t know when we started all this running that it was church. (Like I said before, church was always a building I went to) It started as a safe place for us to discuss thoughts about God, our calling, our lives. And we were able to do this without judgement, without pressure, without rules being imposed on what that should look like. Nobody telling us we HAD to do something, but discerning God’s gentle voice, leading us to do something. I learned how to walk with God in a deeper way and because of it, have been able to share that with others. But church on the trail is open to everyone. It doesn’t just happen when we are running for 2 hours together, just as we are not meant to only be Christians the 2 hours we attend church on Sunday. 

We are the church. All the time. Everywhere. How we express that, well that depends on you. Is your church (meaning YOU) welcoming? Is it encouraging others to dig deeper into God, even if that looks different than the exact way you believe? Church for me is a group of people, seeking God and praising him in all they do. Maybe you go to a church building that does just that. YEAAA!!! And maybe you don’t. It seems the more people I meet fall into that category. They have been burned by church, or just burned out. For those people, church in all that God created it to be, still exists. In people who love him. Who seek him. Who want you to find all that he has for you and all the freedom he died to give. If this is you, I pray that you find like hearted people to join together with. Whether that be on Brushy Creek Trail on the weekend (don’t try to stalk me now), a disc golf course, a living room, wherever. We were never meant to walk this life out alone. God will provide. 

If you are serving Jesus in a unique way, what does that look like for you? Would love to hear how God is building his church all over the place.  

Adopted In Love

My son Beck is 2 1/2 years old. Beck never had the chance to meet my step dad Rodger. The very last time I saw Rodger was when I was hugging him to tell him I was in labor and headed to the hospital to have Beck. Sweet Rodg was pretty sick by that point. Each day I would walk in to see him he would look at my stomach and sigh, anxiously awaiting Beck’s arrival. I sent pictures from the hospital when Beck was born and Rodger was able to see him. By morning the next day Rodger had slipped into a sleep that he would never come out of. He sure did hang on to make sure he saw Beck on this side of heaven though. 

And what is so interesting about all of this is that Beck LOVES his Papa. His Papa he has only seen in pictures. He always tells me how much he misses him. He will even wake in the morning and tell me funny things Rodger tells him. I will ask where he saw him and he says “I saw him in Heaven, where he lives.” Maybe his dreams are of him, I don’t know. As my friend Dana says “I can’t begin to understand all of the wonderful mysteries of God.” Me neither.

What I do know is that Beck has a love for the outdoors, an addiction to music, and an obsession with 4-wheelers. Pretty much his Papa in a small, Mexican body. 

Rodger was always my step dad. Meaning, he never adopted me legally. There was no reason for him to. I have a dad who is and always has been very present in my life. He is one of the greatest men I know. So I just got an extra Dad. I know- some people really are just that lucky. 

So I was not Rodger’s daughter “on paper” nor was I his daughter by blood. But in love he adopted me as his own. And because of that I grew to be more like him. I grew a love for the mountains that remains deep in my heart today, just like him. I fell in love with the country and the desire to live off the land like he did. I learned how to be more encouraging, more understanding and more kind, because of him. Some of it I learned by things he said to me. But a lot of it I learned by spending time with him. Lots and lots of time. We would sit in his workshop for hours upon hours talking when I was younger. And it is those moments that I cherish most. It is those moments my heart grew, learned, changed. I never had to do anything. I just had to be there. 

I was thinking about Rodger this morning as we near Christmas and I miss him terribly. I was thinking about how his adopting me in love not only changed me, but changed my kids. Beck has similar desires and characteristics of Rodger who has no blood relation to him what so ever. He never even met him. But love transcends all those lines. And then I realized how blessed I was to experience that twice in my life. 

Jesus adopted me as his daughter. And because of it, my life is forever changed. My kids are forever changed. The more time I spend with him, the more I become like him. The more my kids become like him. His desires become my desires. I see characteristics of him in my son and daughter. The lineage of my family goes straight to Jesus and his love that rescued me. And just like Rodger my heart changes and grows from what he tells me in his word, and from hours and hours together with him. 

Praising Jesus tonight as I look at my life, sometimes filled with tragedy and pain and yet undeniable, breathtaking, healing beauty in the middle of all of it.  

Authenticity

“There should be a consistency that runs through us all. For Jesus doesn’t change-- yesterday, today, tomorrow, he’s always totally himself.” - Hebrews 13: 8 (MSG)

This scripture. It has turned me into the scene in Zoolander where Derrick is looking in the puddle on the street at his reflection and says “Who am I?”  Is there a consistency that runs through me? Am I the same person behind closed doors that I am in public when people are watching? Who am I really? And is that who God wants me to be?

There are times when I am almost too consistent in who I am. Meaning I have no filter. A good example of this is if I don’t like something or I don’t really love being around someone, I don’t know how to be anything but consistent with my feelings (AKA rude). Most of the time I like to say it’s because I don’t like to be fake, and that is true, but I also like for people to know I don’t like it. It is my safe place and makes me feel like I have some power over a situation. Yes, obviously wrong, and nothing like who Jesus is, but I am just being honest. It is something that I have to constantly work on and occasionally master- but not always. I also don’t think that is the kind of consistency the scripture is referring to. 

Then there are times that I am not being consistent with who I am because I am comparing myself to other people. I went for a playdate at the pool a couple weeks ago with my friend Dana. Dana has 4 kids and has the body of a swimsuit model. I generally feel ok in my full piece swimsuit, (except when it is my speedo, because those were clearly made in hell) but then Dana stands next to me looking like a hottie in her bikini. Suddenly I don’t feel ok. Actually I start to think- If I go on a cigarette and coffee diet for the next 7 weeks I too could look like this. I am neither a smoker or a daily coffee drinker, but I was willing to become one. And it’s not just comparing my body to other people. Sometimes I am with other moms and their kids are behaving so well and I think- WOW! I bet their kids never fight. I bet she never raises her voice. I need to be more like her. My thoughts are immediately interrupted by the sound of Rafi screaming because Beck is pulling her hair out, and I am in full yelling mode.  I can start to strive to be like others who I think have a better marriage, better house, better spiritual life than me. I am sure I am the only one who does this, but just in case I am not, let me tell you- It is really hard to be me, when I am trying to be someone else. 

So how can I truly, consistently be me? I think the first step is embracing the unique and special person that God has made me to be. From my physical appearance to my personality.  He is, after all, the one that gave me my love of nature, food and humor. He set the need for adventure, beauty and laughter into my heart. Those things are good things. And it’s ok to like the things I like, even if someone else doesn’t. I don’t have to be ashamed of that. Even my no filter is a good thing. He made me that way to have strong conversations with people when it is needed. I just have to do it in love and not out of my own human desire to be right.

I also believe that I become a little more me when I pursue the desires that God has placed in my heart. I deeply desire true friendships. I desire to see women’s hearts restored and find true freedom in Jesus.  I truly desire to be the mom that God has called ME to be. Not the mom he has called someone else to be. My kids are also uniquely created for something special in God’s kingdom. If I raise them to be like someone else’s kids, how in the world will they ever be free to be themselves?!? I desire to have a marriage that reflects God’s love to my kids, my family and to people who don’t even know us. The more I chase after those things, the more comfortable I am with letting go of the things God didn’t place in my heart. Like becoming a chain smoking caffein addict. 

And finally, constantly asking God “Who am I?” and listening for the answer. There have been seasons where I have to be heroic. Seasons where he is asking me to be bold. Times where he is asking me to rest or wait or GO! No matter what the answer is, it is always leading me deeper into who Jesus really is and that is what I want more than anything. To find my true self in Him.  

Where are you on this journey? Have you found ways to be consistently like Jesus? If so- please share. I am on a life long mission to be ME!

The Art of Friendship

As I finally begin to wrap up my birthday celebrations, I can’t help but sit in complete gratitude for all that God has blessed me with. I have spent over a week celebrating with my amazing family and wonderful friends. Yea a week. I know. I party hard.

During this time God has really urged me to look at the friendships that I have and reflect on what a beautiful and wonderful gift it is. I suppose that is because I have never really been grateful for my friendships- I mean if I am just being honest. I may have liked hanging out with certain people or even talking to them on the phone every once in a while. But the truth is my relationships were very shallow. I mean I had a shirt that I made with some friends one time that said:

 “I am the most shallow person I know.”

Oh- did you get caught up in the fact that we used to make our own shirts?!? I know- Mall kiosks were hot spots back then. Don’t judge.

The shirt was actually pretty accurate though. I was shallow. I didn’t really want to open myself up to other people because that could potentially lead to getting hurt. I wasn’t willing to risk that. So I played it off by keeping conversations light and fun. And I will tell you- I became an expert at shallow friendships.

It has taken years of prayer and asking God to bring women into my life that could show me what real friendship looks like. Some women have been in my life for years I had just never opened myself up to a deeper relationship, then Jesus opened a door for that. Some God brought me more recently, but it feels like we have known each other forever. I can look at my life now and see an answered prayer when I think of the incredible women God has surrounded me with. 

Women who get the honor of having a front row seat to my uncut, and unfiltered crazyness. Friends that I have to call and say “meet me at the park later today because if I don’t get out of the house with these kids of mine, you are going to see me on the evening news.” Friends I can have a melt down with, be sarcastic with, be quiet with--yea right. Never happens. But if I wanted to, they would let me. Sharing hopes, dreams, fears, and desires. Asking for advice on walking out my relationship with Jesus, my kids, my husband. Women who I can call and say “hello” and the tone of my voice says to them “something is off. What’s going on with you today?”
And women who will go to battle spiritually for me. Praying when I really don’t have the energy to do it for myself. In a million years I never thought this would be my life.

Friendships seem harder and harder to come by these days. A Facebook friend does not actually equal a real friend. A public tweet to someone doesn’t take the place of a phone call or visit. Friendships take more than liking someones picture or as my nephew says giving someone a “double tap” on Instagram. Deep friendships take big investments. They must be fought for, prayed over, and nourished.

Has God blessed you with these types of relationships? If so, give thanks. And call your friends and tell them how grateful you are for them. If this is something your heart desires, I know exactly how you feel. I have been there. And I urge you to pray and ask God to bring those relationships into your life. He will. I am living proof that He will. You just need an open heart to receive them when He does bring them.

So thank you to all of my friends who put up with me. Who listen to me rant for hours about nothing that I think is something.  Who invite me to a surprise party at Alamo Drafthouse for a Zoolander Quote A Long. Who allow me to then volunteer myself for a traditional Runway Walk Off in front of a room of total strangers. You are the absolute best and worst all at the same time.

Note: If you have never seen Zoolander- do yourself a favor and get it today. You can thank me later. So you know- a traditional walk off means someone does a move and the next person duplicates then adds on. That is what you are seeing here. *no one was injured in the making of this film*

A Blog About A Dog

Let me let you in on a little secret. I like dogs. Truth be told, I may actually like dogs more than I like people. They don’t back talk, they never share your secrets, they don’t even judge you for having a lions mane for hair when you wake up in the morning. In fact, they seem to love you more
because you are clearly embracing the animal kingdom on a new level. Seriously- how can you not love them?!?

And I had a dog I loved very much. Her name was Izzy. When we thought we were moving out of the country we gave her to a family that was looking for a dog. They grew very attached to her and so did their kids so we knew we could never ask for her back. My daughter would cry for her almost every day and finally at thanksgiving, my husband gave in and gave us both what we wanted- another dog.

This is Nala the week we got her.

 

I know- she is so adorable. Our last dog was a boxer so when we got Nala we thought we knew exactly what we were in for. And oh my freakin goodness were we wrong. When I say this dog is terrible, I am not even scratching the surface.

One week into having her we were painting our bedroom. She decided at the very moment we filled

the pan with paint she needed to dart through it and then circle full speed through our room so she could track the paint all over our carpet. I know- sweet isn’t she?

On Christmas she “helped” the kids open all of their presents. See exhibit A

Exhibit A

One day my sister in law had to put her outside and she was very reluctant. Finally Nala followed her out, waited until she stopped and then stood above her foot and peed on her. I didn’t even know this was a thing dogs did. I guess ours is special.

We have a fence with slats in it and she figured out how to squeeze herself through and eventually broke free one day. She ran full speed 4 doors down, went into our neighbors yard, through their doggy door and was running through their house. No we didn’t know them- but we do now.  I’m sure she was just trying to help us meet new people.

So yea- she is seriously the worst.

In an effort to gain some control over the madness in this house (because in case anyone forgot I also have an almost 4 year old and almost 2 year old who bring all kinds of other crazyness to the table) I figured Nala and I would learn to walk together. She is terrible on a leash. SHOCKER. But somewhere deep down in my pre kids brain I remember a very wise man saying you needed to be the pack leader for a dog to respect you. (thank you Cesar Milan) So I did something I never thought I would do- I bought a gentle lead collar. This is the one that looks terribly cruel because it goes around their mouth. It forces her to keep her eyes on me so she can see which way I am going, and she can never get too far ahead of me without being jerked back.

This is Nala on our walk tonight. 

She looks thrilled doesn’t she? It has been a week of us working on this. At first she wouldn’t even walk because she was too busy trying to rip it off her face. After 3 days I found it in the backyard where she had tried to bury it. But I pushed through and kept working with her. She is now finally starting to listen. I can give her commands while on our walk and she actually does them. And she is rewarded greatly for listening.

Tonight as we were able to make it a whole mile in the neighborhood without her even pulling me, I let her do what she loves most- run free. She barreled through the open field by our house without a care in the world. And when I called her- she came. WOHOO.

I was instantly reminded of the scripture that says “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” John 10:27. And I realized that Nala in her gentle lead collar is me with Jesus. Learning to keep my eyes on him, not getting ahead, and learning to listen for his voice. Slowly it is getting easier. I am finally starting to understand that it will hurt if I rush ahead. I will get lost if I don’t know his voice. And how greatly I am rewarded when I follow His commands.

Thankful tonight that God can and will use anything to speak to me. Even this dog. Who may be up for adoption soon if anyone is looking for a great gift for your Easter Basket.

Perspective

Several years ago we found Ransomed Heart Ministries. Our family has experienced so much growth, healing and restoration through their books, events and podcasts. One of the simple truths that I have personally learned over the last several years of studying their material is this:  “God is for you!” So easy right? And I am sure I have heard it in different ways over the years, but something shifted for me when I started to actually believe it. To really believe that God is for me in the good, in the bad, in the big decisions, and in the every day life. What happened is that my perspective changed. How I interpreted the events of my life changed. And my love for God and trust for him deepened.

About 2 1/2 years ago, Tony and I felt like God was calling us to Australia to help some friends plant a church. We had no idea how it would all play out, but what we did know is that we would follow Him and trust He would lead every step of the way. After several months of prayer- we knew God wanted us to sell all we owned to prepare for the move over seas. The only thing he didn’t ask us to sell was our home. Which made absolutely no sense since we didn’t think we would move back and if we did- for sure not to this small house of ours. But we did what he asked and within about 3 weeks sold everything and had leased our house out.

So here we are, 5 boxes to our name and I am 7 months pregnant with Beck. At this point we still had no visa to leave, no job offer to go- nothing. And on top of it, we now have no place to live. It just so happened that after 14 years of living in Bastrop my mom was moving to a rental home just 5 miles from us. My step dad was sick and needed to be closer in town for doctor appointments. And just like that- we had a place to live. God was for us.

Little did we know that from when we moved in with my mom and Rodger it would be the last 2 months of Rodger’s life and we got to spend each of those precious last days with him. Rafi got to make him laugh and he got to teach her to play the harmonica. God was for us.

Beck was born just in the middle of the chaos and it made no sense to me why all of this would be happening at once. My mom was off work for a year after Rodger went to heaven and she woke every day to a very sweet and cuddly new born and a witty and hilarious 2 year old. What a gift God sent us in Beck during that very hard season. God was for us.

After realizing that God’s plan was more about the process than the actual move, we knew we were to stay here. And oh my goodness were we thankful that he told us to lease this house out. We had a place to move back to after a year and suddenly the house didn’t look small but instead like a great opportunity to be creative with our space. God was for us.

And it’s not just in the big life changes. It is in the small. Last night I was going to visit a church with a friend. We clearly did not do our research just assuming all churches meet every sunday- but this specific church doesn’t have corporate gatherings the first Sunday. I could have said “God didn’t have anything for me there.” or “Wow- what a waste of my time getting ready” and gone home. But instead we decided to go have dinner. A dinner without kids is coveted time in this season of my life. I have had a hard week of very sick kids and lots to get done. What my heart needed was 2 hours with my friend that I rarely ever get. We were able to share all that God is doing in our lives and stories of his love, grace and mercy. God was for me.

This morning I woke to a picture of my best friends baby girl who was born just moments earlier. She has suffered through 2 miscarriages, but we prayed that God would give her the desires of her heart. And as of today- she is a mommy of 2. God is for her.

I say all of this as a reminder to myself and to anyone else who may need it today. God loves you. He is for you. And he does want the absolute best for you!

(To learn more about Ransomed Heart ministries you can visit their website at www.ransomedheart.com )

Surrender

I woke this morning with sadness in my heart. I have become so unnerved by where we are as Christians. It seems that with each passing day there is more and more division between one another. I read this article that was going around the other day called “5 Bad Reasons To Leave Your Church.” It was immediately followed up with someone writing “6 Good Reasons To Leave Your Church.” Then someone else writes a blog about how “They Don’t go to Church Every Sunday.” And now someone else has written a blog with how “They Will Never Be Like That Guy and Leave the Church.” 

AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! Make it stop. Please for all that is Holy. What is happening to us?!? I know that I am nobody. I am not a pastor, I didn’t go to seminary. I have no paper that says you should listen to me. BUT- I have had a REAL encounter with Jesus. Many of them. And I have to tell you- none of them have ever turned me off to him. Every single time I am in the presence of Jesus there is LIFE. There is an endless amount of FREEDOM, LOVE, GRACE, JOY, PEACE, WISDOM, HEALING, and RESTORATION.  And that is what we should be sharing. That is what we should be taking to people. That is what the world needs. We don’t need to be fighting amongst one another. Telling each other who is less holy than another because they don’t do things exactly the same as you. The people who are misrepresenting Jesus- that is what is turning people off. Jesus loved us while we were sinners and we can’t even love one another once we are saved. 

In walking with Jesus I have found my deepest wounds have not come from those living in “the world”, but by my fellow believers. Over the last 6 months I finally took Jesus out of a box. I have taken limits off of how and where he can speak to me. How he can use me. How he can love me. And how I can serve him. In sharing this with people that I have held dear to my heart- I have not only been told I was wrong- but that I am in fact being deceived. UGH. Talk about pain. People that I have looked up to, that I expected to hug me and say “I am so proud of you for running toward Jesus so freely,” instead took my heart and crushed it. And it hurt. But the real pain came in the revelation that I have done this so often with people in the past. If you don’t think like me- you are wrong. So- my word actually trumps what Jesus is saying to you. Oh how broken I am because of that.

 No longer will I allow this kind of hate to be spoken into my life- nor will I do it to others. I have learned that love wins every time. So for now- I am throwing up the white flag and surrendering my title of Christian. I’ll call myself a Jesus follower or Jesus freak or whatever else my creative free loving Jesus people like to call themselves. What I won’t do is box myself into some category of people who claim love but speak hate. Who claim unity but cause division. I will chose the road less traveled where I don’t have time to judge you for being wrong because I am way to busy showing God’s love- which is always right. 

A Letter To My Christian Friends

For those of you who don’t know, I have spent the majority of my life in church. Whenever someone used to ask me how long I had been in church I always used to tell them I was born in church. As in my mom was pregnant with me when she started attending so it was all I have ever known. However,  my loving husband asked me to stop saying that because it sounded like my mom gave birth to me in the 3rd row pew right before offering was taken up. So now I say “I have been in church since the womb” because I feel like that makes it a little better.

Just to give you a little background, I grew up Pentecostal. Oh, you don’t know what that is? The girls that could only wear skirts, couldn’t wear makeup and had very long hair (because it could not be cut) which is most often worn in what I refer to as “bundage.” Yea, that was me. I know. Looking back in my 30 year old body, several tattoos, hair cut, and big hoop earrings on, it is hard for me to believe too. Church was what we did on Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, and Wednesday nights, first Monday nights, special Friday nights... you get it- we kicked it there... a lot. Most of the earliest memories I have involve sleeping under a pew and listening to my pastor’s wife sing old hymns. Still today those are some of the sweetest memories I have.

Several months ago I was talking with some people about their church where they serve. Honestly I don’t even know how we got to the subject but they told me they have actually seen church members yell at volunteers in the coffee shop when they don’t have their coffee out and ready when they arrive on Sunday morning. Confused I said “because they have paid for this coffee so they expect it to be there?” No, this coffee is free. “And the people attending the church are mad because their free coffee isnt out?” Yes. “ummmm... what??!!” As I was processing why this would even be happening, Jesus asked me a question “What does any of this have to do with me?”

Completely caught off guard, I sat quietly not really knowing what He was asking. In the days that followed I sought out the Lord needing to know what this question was all about only to have more questions come from Him. If there wasn’t free coffee, would the people still come? If there wasn’t all the flashing lights, beautiful building, great singers- would people still know me? Love me? Seek me?  “Uhhh.... what??!! How am I supposed to know Jesus. I don’t even go to their church!” But that wasn’t what God was asking. He was after something more in my heart. He was asking “Do people know me outside of the 4 walls of the church?”

I know for me personally I have often boxed God in. Allowing him to move in the designated time between 9-10:30 AM on Sunday morning, while I was at church,  because that is the time slot I picked for him. Anything outside of that was my time and God asking for any of it was invasive and just flat out rude. I mean- I gave him an hour and a half already right? Why didn’t he use that time wisely. Church in my mind has always been a PLACE. Of course it was. I went to it all the time as a kid and as an adult. So when Jesus decided to wreck my world with all of his crazy questions, there was a shift. I started moving from this idea of “going to church” and instead started realizing “I am the church.” I am not set apart mid morning on Sunday- I am set apart every moment of every day of my life. I am not in communion with Jesus JUST when I am in a building with other believers, but also when I am in my house with my husband and kids and we are praying together and worshipping.

I have spent so much of my life believing that I had to have someone else usher me into the presence of the Lord because they were “anointed as a worshiper” instead of realizing that Jesus is alive and accessible even to me who has the worst singing voice on the planet (although I am certain I sound like an angel to the Lord) while I am sitting in traffic in my mini van.

Oh how I wish this would have been shared with me early on in my walk with Jesus. I have so often thought “If I could just get so and so to church they would be better.” Trying to force them in with an incentive to buy them lunch after instead of knowing that I am just as capable of showing Christ’s love at any moment of any day to someone and that encounter could change their life.

So what does all of this mean? Why do I care enough to write about it? Why do you care enough to keep reading? Well, here is the deal- I meet people on a daily basis (And so do you) that are going to hell and for a long time I didn’t do shit about it. Oh- that language offended you? But the fact that people are going to hell didn’t? Moving on. If we are the body of Christ then we better not be waiting until Easter service comes around to invite someone to know Jesus. It may be too late. We should be showing God’s love daily, and not the creepy love like spewing scriptures down someones throat. No- I mean just letting Jesus live in us and through us. Helping a neighbor. Praying for a friend. Feeding the homeless. Doing the things Jesus did. If Jesus is in you, people will see the difference. They will want to be around you. Want to know what it is about you that is different from anyone else they have met. I’ve tried it. It works.

In all of this I am NOT saying don’t go to a church building, so please please please don’t read it like that. What I am saying is, don’t meet Jesus there and then leave him there.

How thankful I am for the conversation I had about coffee and even more that God would pursue me and have me question more. So much more I can and will say but for now- I pray that you Go. Be the church. The Bride of Christ. Beautiful and Glorious.