I Went Home.

Many of the Christian women writers, teachers, and preachers I follow have posted this week about John MacArthur’s deplorable behavior at a recent men’s conference. He was asked what two words come to mind when he hears the name “Beth Moore.” He replied, “Go home.”

Beth Moore has been a powerful Bible teacher for 40 years, teaching women since her Southern Baptist Church won’t permit women to teach men. Her reach has extended far beyond the Southern Baptist Church, however, through her books and videos and conferences. She is intelligent, well-read and -studied, dynamic, and one of the best preachers I’ve heard in any pulpit anywhere. Arguably, she is the Billy Graham of female preachers.

And John MacArthur et al quite obviously feel threatened by her influence, because they think it’s funny to publicly mock her. I purposely haven’t watched the video, because I have read it thoroughly described by several respected sources. And because I have heard and experienced similar words from men; some meant well, others used their words carelessly and, perhaps, unaware of their own bias.

For most of three decades, I’ve spent my career in the Church. I showed up day after day, year after year, in one, two, three churches, using my gifts, skills, and creativity in every possible way to express God’s truth to God’s people. Until I finally admitted that I was too tired and too hurt from banging my head on the glass ceiling.

I went home.

But I haven’t given up, and I will not be silent. As long as I have breath in my lungs, I will use whatever platforms I have to speak truth:

God loves me.
God loves and gifts all His people (male and female; white and POC; old and young; rich and poor; straight and LGBTQ+; throughout time and the world over) to share His love.
All God’s people are preachers, though only some use words.

I may never again step foot in a pulpit (though I don’t rule that out), but I will never stop sharing God’s love. I am a God-loving and God-gifted woman. Even from home, you can hear me roar!

For more of the story of my ministry experience, please read this post.

Read these posts from two women I respect:
Cara Meredith
Sarah Bessey

Cover photo by Katherine Hanlon on Unsplash

Good Gifts

As a high school senior, my favorite teacher taught Child Development, the most fun elective a baby-loving kid could take. Also our Senior Class Advisor, Teacher was wild and crazy in all the ways teens love: funny, with a huge laugh; refreshingly honest, telling us truths about which our parents only blushed; smart and engaging, she made school fun. She had a big heart and made it clear that she cared about her students even more than her subject, though she obviously loved teaching, too.

My desk sat near the front of the room and my view allowed me to often admire Teacher’s bracelet: a chunky ivory bangle with silver clasps and the most enormous topaz I’d ever seen. It came from India and I no longer remember whether she’d bought it on vacation or perhaps it had been a gift? Either way, I thought it was fantastic.

Lucky me, my dad was an airline pilot with Pan American Airlines and regularly traveled to India. India wasn’t his favorite destination and, though he complained of the oppressive heat and impassable crowds, I suspect the extreme poverty broke his heart in ways his pride couldn’t admit.bracelet

When he presented me with my own version of Teacher’s bracelet – Hooray, Hooray! – he told me that he had hired a cab driver for an entire day to shuttle him all over New Delhi as he talked with one vendor after another, examining their wares and explaining exactly what he wanted until he found just the right gift for his oldest daughter about to graduate high school.

At the time, I understood that Dad had worked hard to find the bracelet I desired. Now, however, I recognize that the bracelet came at considerable cost. I have no idea truly what dent the bracelet put in his wallet. Rather, Dad paid a personal cost: his time, effort, discomfort, his breaking heart… As an adult who shies from heat and crowds, who feels easily overwhelmed and gives up quickly on strenuous shopping requirements, I am also overwhelmed by the gift of love my dad invested into the gift of this bracelet. More than any tangible item he gave me, this bracelet represents my dad’s love for me.

We didn’t have an easy relationship. As far as I know, my dad had no easy relationships in his entire life. The only child of a dysfunctional family, he never received the love he needed that might have flowed over into others. He only learned to say, “I love you” during the last year of his life, once he knew life had grown short.

Luke 11 says that, as broken parents give good gifts, our Heavenly Father wants to do so even more. This encourages me:

That my dad loved me, and worked harder than I could know to express it in his way; and
That my Father in heaven loves me more than I’ll ever know, and He also wants to give me good gifts.

Which makes me wonder: Have I told God what I want? I described the bracelet specifically to my dad, and I think God wants us to be specific with Him, too (maybe not about bracelets, but certainly about wisdom, justice, love, peace…).

I can’t remember the last time I wore the bracelet my dad gave me. As a vegetarian-environmentalist-animal lover, wearing ivory now seems wrong. On the other wrist, so to speak, not wearing the bracelet my dad gave me, especially now that I recognize the tremendous gift of love it represents, also seems wrong. So if you see me wearing ivory and that seems incongruous, you might get an earful about my revived prayer life and the gifts of love for which I’m asking my Daddy.

Connect
Who taught you to pray? What are your earliest memories of praying?

Study
Read aloud Luke 11:1-13.
What do you learn from Jesus’ prayer in vv. 2-4 about how we should pray?
What is the main take-away from Jesus’ parable in vv. 5-8?
Verses 9-10 are often taken out of context to promote praying for an easy life. How would you explain Jesus’ meaning to someone inclined to believe in a health and wealth gospel? Does the context of vv. 11-12 shed any light on this? How?
What does Jesus mean in v. 13 – is the Holy Spirit the only good gift we can ask for or…?

Live
How is the content of Jesus’ prayer (vv. 2-4) like or unlike your current prayers? In what ways have you found praying the Lord’s Prayer helpful or unhelpful?
What might change if you asked Jesus to teach you to pray?
What do you think Jesus means by encouraging us to pray with “shameless audacity” (v. 8 NIV)?
For what are you Asking, Seeking, and Knocking in prayer? Let others join you in prayer.
What is Jesus saying to you through this passage, and how will you respond?

Pray
Pray that Jesus will teach you to pray and fill you with His Holy Spirit.

Advent 4 – Knowing Peace

Around the time Teen hit middle school I began encouraging him each time he walked away: “Be your best you,” meaning make good choices and do your best and stay true to yourself. You can be yourself, but it takes intentionality to be your best version of yourself.happiness-project

So maybe it shouldn’t have surprised me to discover “Be Gretchen” at the top of Gretchen Rubin‘s Twelve Commandments of Happiness. Fill in your own name and it sounds easier than the reality. I may want to sing like Idina Menzel, or paint like Monet, or innovate like Steve Jobs, but those aren’t my gifts. Sure, I can practice and develop new skills – I can hire a vocal coach, or take a painting or business class – but honestly I probably won’t because those aren’t my gifts; those desires don’t drive me. Beating myself up over a false version of myself won’t make me happy. So I Be Me and employ Commandment #2: “Let it go.”wiz

I saw this on the screen as we watched The Wiz! this weekend. The things each character wanted – a brain, a heart, courage, home – were already theirs; they just had to believe.

Rubin’s pursuit of happiness strikes me as a key to peace: “Be Me” and “Let it go” lead to both happiness and peace. If I am at peace with myself, I have much higher likelihood of being at peace with you. And peace with myself starts with peace with God.

I’m not sure I would know how to be my best me if I didn’t know what God says about me. For example:

God made me – Psalm 139:13-14 says, “You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!”

God loves me and saved me – John 3:16-17 says, “For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.”

I’m God’s child – John 1:12 says, “But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.”

Jesus intends me to live a full life – John 10:10 records Jesus saying, “The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.”

God has given me specific gifts for specific work – 1 Corinthians 12:7 says, “A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other,” and Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”

God will help me – Hebrews 4:16 says, “So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.”

Hearing and believing these truths from God’s Word free me up from discouragement and free me to be my best self. I’m created by God, and God doesn’t make junk. I am loved by God, which gives my life value. I am gifted and empowered by God to do good work and live a full life.

I read this prayer this week, and it speaks straight to this point:

Dear God: Please untie the knots that are in my mind, my heart and my life. Remove the have nots, the can nots, and the do nots that I have in my mind. Erase the will nots, may nots, might nots that may find a home in my heart. Release me from the could nots, the would nots, and the should nots that obstruct my life. And most of all, Dear God, I ask that you remove from my mind, my heart and my life all of the ‘am nots’ that I have allowed to hold me back, especially the thought that I am not good enough. Amen.

Blessings on these last few days of Advent 2015!advent wreath

Week 4 – Knowing Peace
December 20-24

Read and light four candlesThe first candle represents the expectation of the One who will bring Peace. The second candle represents God’s peace in us. The third candle represents the call to make peace with one another. The fourth candle represents the Gospel of peace.

Say aloud together: Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

Read Scripture: Ephesians 2:14-18

Read: Jesus Christ is our peace. On the cross He defeated sin and death and tore down the wall separating us from God. He destroyed our interior walls which kept us from being whole and holy. He shattered the walls that separate us from one another, human distinctions that matter nothing to Him. Christ fought the battles to win peace for us. Come, let us worship the Prince of Peace!

Pray: Dear God, thank you for the good news of peace. In the name of Jesus we pray for peace, Amen.

 

Monday John 17:3 How do you enjoy eternal life here on earth?
Tuesday Acts 10:36 How has the good news of peace through Jesus Christ changed your life?
Wednesday Romans 5:1 How does peace with God affect your daily life?
Thursday 2 Corinthians 5:20 With whom does God want you to share His peace?

Help. Thanks. Wow.

Anne Lamott, or as others call her, St. Anne, claims that the Essential Prayers sound this simple:
Help.
Thanks.
Wow.

I have prayed many, many words over many, many years, but I’m not sure I could come up with a prayer, petition, or praise that wouldn’t fit those three categories: help, thanks, wow.

Other than Tween staying home to vomit all day – and yes, this almost feels normal in a skin-crawling, crazy-making kind of way – today had been a good day: gym time, coffee with a friend, productive meetings; a friend brought her kids over to help Tween with homework (read: play), which meant moms also had time together.

Too much of an almost-good day? Teen locked his jaws on a potential outing to which I’ve said a solid, emphatic “NO!” I know he wants freedom, and I get that I represent his jailer, but I can’t say yes to this one. But ADHD hyper-focus shuts down his compassion and he bites hard, and long, and it’s all I can do to breathe and answer in a whisper so as not to provoke him further.

Interruption: the splash of Tween being violently ill.

Breathe. Pray. Breathe. Pray.

I made dinner and left it on the stove. I mentally went back to work to avoid my life’s chaos. When I thought I’d heard the end of Guy and Teen hashing out the same conversation I’d endured earlier, I cautiously emerged. Also, Tween was feeling better and able to eat.

I ate a few bites. Teen apologized and hugged me harder than ever. Even so, I spied my little eye into the liquor cabinet (Mexican food = margarita, right?) before Guy mentioned he’d chilled chardonnay. And then I noticed the pinkish light through our windows.

I poured two glasses of wine and invited Guy outside. Glasses clinked, we stood silently and watched as blue became grey became pink, peach, plum, dusky purple. The horizon lit orange, fire colors. Hot and intense, casting now yellow, autumnal light. We followed the light from front yard to back, where we sat to watch the colors change through our tree-silhouetted skyline. I thought, “This is what I needed. I am putting myself in the way of beauty (my “word” for 2015). This beauty, this WOW, will help me breathe.”sunset

Help: Help us make it through this abdominal migraine cycle. Help Doctors discover a way out of future cycles. Help Tween persevere through this mountain of work. Help Teachers respond with grace and kindness. Help Teen put his focus on Needs rather than Wants. Help Guy and I to stay on the same page in this whole parenting deal. Help maintain my sanity!

Thanks: Thanks for these three fantastic men you’ve put in my life. Thanks for Friends who surround us – with prayer, moral support, offers to cook and shop and even tutor, pop-in work and play dates, even tangible gifts (Homemade feed corn ice-heat packs? Awesome! Essential oils? Escential!). Thanks for killing our blender just as Guy was in Costco, and Big Thanks for the VitaMix he brought home to replace it. Thanks for holding us safe in Your Great Big Hands.

Wow: Seriously, this gorgeous sunset? WOW! The picture doesn’t do it justice. That these vibrant colors came from smog, sure, but I am wowed that you continually choose to bring beauty from bad, redemption from our rubbage. Tonight, I am wowed that you are an ever-present Help; that you are the source of any good thing for which I can say Thanks; that you are our WOW.

And just in case I sound too precious, Teen demonstrated his love for me – his goofy-kid way of saying sorry yet again – by trusting me with his beauties just as I finished writing (evidence that I’m growing in love for him, too, that I let these two crawl around on my lap).snakes

The Church: Traveling Together

What seems like a bazillion years ago, I participated in a high school marching band (sorry, no humiliating pictures available – I did look, I promise). Before freshman year, I registered to be the pianist/accompanist for Beginning Orchestra; unbeknownst to me, everyone quit and the band director transferred me to Marching Band. And the trombone, because the band obviously did not need a pianist yet needed a trombonist.

It will require a separate soul-searching sesh to figure out why I roll with some punches and not others, why I allowed this change to be made on my behalf rather than asserting a desire to try, oh let’s say, writing, journalism, or yearbook. Whatever. I learned a few things.

I found a community. The band room became my safe haven in the large, scary ‘world’ of high school. People knew me, nick-named me (“Huggy Bear,” because I bounded a few steps, dropped my backpack, hugged, and bounded off a few more steps – repeat, repeat, repeat), teased me, loved me, encouraged and challenged me. And yes, we got into some trouble together, too; I have to remember that as I parent a high school kid of my own.

marching-band-md

Staying in step is crucial. Take a clumsy pianist who’d rather take a seat, thank you very much, put an unfamiliar instrument in her hands and to her face, and then make her march in step down streets and around fields in formation… Who thought this was a good idea? And yet it was a whole lotta fun, until we had to listen to tapes of the judges’ comments and hear them yelling, “Low Brass, out of step!” Later, when I thought maybe switching to xylophone might be at least keyboard-friendly, we heard even more, “Percussion, out of step!” Because marching with a xylophone strapped to your shoulders prevents one’s ability to see their own feet (and hurts your back. I don’t recommend). And you have to move both feet and both hands and, oh, it’s All Too Much! But it’s part of the game, so you practice it all the more.

marching-band-md

The music is the message. Left-right-left-step aside (and to think I dated the Drum Major for much of this experience – he must have been chagrined at my lack of rhythm, considering my musicality), the band had music to share. We loved playing together, being together, laughing and making music. As a dear friend recently pointed out, so much of life is work; even when you work at it, music is play, and the very best sort. We made melody and harmony together, and we had a gift to offer even when we were too-often out of step with one another.

marching-band-md

Staying in step together puts you out of step with the crowd. At our best, our notes sounded in tune and our feet hit the pavement/field in synch. But we were only in tune and in step with each other. The crowds watched and listened. They might have tapped a toe, clapped or what-not to the music, but they didn’t march with us. Marching defined us as a band, a unit, a family, distinct from onlookers.

So what’s this got to do with Church?

I listened to our pastor preach this morning on the Church, on Christ as Head of the Body, and how we all fit as God ordains, with unique positions and roles to play. And I listened as the choir and congregation sang – some more on-key and -beat than others – beautiful, joyful noise unto the Lord. And together we observed Communion, received that blessed grace God has given as a remembrance of the great gift of His Son Jesus Christ, as a defining mark of His family, the Church.

And I kept thinking about our high school band. That we belonged together. That we were in step and in tune, and when we weren’t, we dealt with it together. That together we had something to share with others who were not us. That we needed each other, and that others needed us.

Sometimes these metaphors surprise me. As much as “Band Geek” sometimes sounded like a slur, and the uniforms were universally unflattering (who looks good in a fringe-covered marshmallow hat?), I am grateful to have played with the band. C’mon, friends, C’mon, Church, let’s make beautiful noise for the Lord.

Connect
Share about a memorable trip you took with others.

Study
Read aloud 2 Corinthians 5:11-20.
Paul states several reasons why he must share the good news. What are his reasons?
How are “fear of the Lord” and “Christ’s love” complimentary and in tension as motivations, and how do they motivate us to share Christ (vv. 11, 14)?
Of what is Paul “convinced,” and what implications does that have for the Christian life (vv. 14-15)?
What does it mean to “regard no one from a worldly point of view?” (v. 16)
What does it mean to be “in Christ” (v. 17)?
Define “reconciliation.” Explain the ministry and message of reconciliation. What does it mean to be “Christ’s ambassador”?

Live
In your experience of sharing Christ, what has been your primary motivation?
What would it take for you to begin to see people from God’s perspective rather than a worldly perspective?
What do you need to feel equipped and encouraged to take up the ministry of reconciliation?
For whose sake right now in your life has God made you an ambassador of Christ?
What could you do as a small group to live out the ministry of reconciliation together?
What is Jesus saying to you through this passage and how will you respond?

Pray
Pray that God will direct you to people who are open to hearing the good news of Jesus Christ.

When Tuesday Acts Like Monday

The day after Memorial Day Monday, of course, is Tuesday. But when Monday is a holiday and Tuesday begins the week, then Tuesday acts like Monday. Except that I work from home most Mondays, and Tuesday doesn’t allow me that freedom. People grump about Mondays but they’re one of my favorite days of the week; today I understood the grumps.

I jumped from a full weekend of travel and friends to a day in the office, the more worse for wear because I did not sleep well last night. At all. I woke up from a bad dream at 3:20am, got up for a drink of water and a walk around the house, hoping to fall back into restful sleep. No such luck. Same bad dream, different scene (If I could only recall in daylight the craziness of my dreams I could write a movie blockbuster. Where does this stuff come from?). Repeat for the next four hours until daylight wins and I give up.

Don’t get me wrong: I love my job. But I also love sleep, and its lack put me on edge. I forgot to eat breakfast. I left my full travel coffee mug on the kitchen counter.

Surprisingly, I got to our weekly Tuesday morning meeting a) prepared and b) through the agenda in less time than usual (maybe I was too tired to be chatty). I moved on to one overly complicated project, only to realize I had another more pressing project and not quite enough time.

Between projects Guy had given me a handmade cross, a gift from another pastor made by one of her parishioners. Guy had another very similar and so, as he told me its story and I commented on how good it felt in my hand, he encouraged me to take it.crossI couldn’t know that cross would be such a gift today.

I set it to the left of my desk as I worked. Repeatedly it caught my eye and I picked it up, admiring its heft, the way it fit my hand, the smooth beauty of the wood grain. I’d put it down again and return to work. Until the song on my busy-office-noise-canceling headphones caught my attention:

We have seen the pain
that shaped our hearts
And in our shame
We’re still breathing, ’cause

We have seen the hope
of your healing
Rising from our souls
is the feeling
We are drawing close
Your light is shining through
Your light is shining through

Wake up, wake up, wake up
wake up all you sleepers
Stand up, stand up
Stand up all you dreamers
Hands up, hands up
Hands up all believers
Take up your cross, carry it on

all that you reveal
with light in us
will come to life
and start breathing, ’cause

here we stand our hearts are yours, Lord
not our will but yours be done, Lord

“Wake Up” by All Sons & Daughters

On a sleepy, sleepy day, the call to Wake up, Stand up, Hands up, Take up your cross, carry it on broke through my haze. I looked up the song lyrics, held the cross, and prayed. The last line, sung over and over, Jesus’ own prayer in Gethsemane as He faced the cross. Not my will but yours, Lord! I pick up my cross. I couldn’t sleep but you didn’t sleep, either, as you faced your death. I feel whiny but you sweat blood. Egads, there can be absolutely no comparison.

And yet there I sat, at my desk, working “in Jesus’ name,” without Him. My work: reading the Word of God, writing questions to guide people in their study, and the passage about sharing the good news of Jesus Christ… Prayer and the power of the Spirit are integral to this work, and I had neglected Him, had attempted to do it in my own sapped strength.

Would it surprise you that, once God caught my attention, the work flowed out of my heart and mind and fingers onto the computer? Nah, me neither. His light shines through.

In her new book, Wearing God, Lauren Winner writes:

“One of the invitations…of the Bible is this: you can discover things about God by looking around your ordinary, everyday life. An ordinary Tuesday – what you wear, what you eat, and how you experience the weather – has something to offer you about God. There is a method here, and it is Jesus’ method. Jesus, after all, specialized in asking people to steep themselves in the words of the scriptures and then to look around their ordinary Tuesdays to see what they could see about holiness and life with God. This is not merely entertaining wordplay to give overactive minds something pious to do. It is the Bible’s way of making us aware of God and of the world in which we meet God.” (15-16).

On this ordinary Tuesday, a day that pretended to be a Monday of the grumpy variety, I learned (yet again) that God shows up. That a gift might be an icon, that a song might lead to prayer, that my work will only be as effective as my remembrance of God’s presence. That God loves me, and that He has the power to overcome my sleepless grumps with His gentle good humor.

What has your ordinary Tuesday taught you about God?

Sari, Not Sorry

sari-foot

A couple months ago our church had a women’s retreat. I’m a little funny about gender exclusive events and wasn’t sure I’d go until I opened my mouth to invite others to join me. And then the organizer asked if I would model a sari in the fashion show.

Why a fashion show? would be a great question. I can’t say exactly, but it was fun!

I considered declining her invitation. I’m not a center-of-attention kinda gal and 170 pairs of eyes on me isn’t comfortable. But that wasn’t my first thought. My first thought had to do with my body, with my discomfort in my own skin, and then with others looking at me.

Would the sari fit? Which bulges of flesh might protrude? Saris often bare the midriff and with increasing age I am decreasingly a fan of my midriff.

I wrestled with myself and ultimately said yes. My ‘word’ for 2015 is put yourself in the way of beauty. What is more beautiful than a sari, and when would I ever have another opportunity to wear one?

I’m so glad I consented! A variety of women, of different ages and appearance, gathered with several Indian women who dressed us and decorated us with stacks of bracelets and jewelry in our hair and on our foreheads. The saris had all been laid out on tables and women gravitated to colors and beading styles. The Indian women estimated which saris would look best on which women, and they expertly pinned and spun us and wrapped and draped us in the nine yards of fabric that are a sari, worn over a petticoat and blouse.

We enjoyed the best possible costume party. It was intimate, women dressing women, and special, women making women feel beautiful. We ooh-ed and aah-ed over the gorgeous colors and hand-beaded finery, and over one another wearing the most incredible dresses. 170 women got to see the spectacular saris, but only a few of us got to wear them. And we felt beautiful.

sari 2 sari grp

The next day I talked with another of the models as we bonded over our shared experience. I told her about my initial hesitancy and her response has been rattling around my head since. She asked, “When have you ever seen a woman wearing a sari past the age of 40-something, who didn’t have a little tummy? Our bodies change with age. But you know, it doesn’t matter. Her husband loves her.” Indian culture respects age and the marriage relationship. They are comfortable in their skin in a way I haven’t been since puberty.

I participate in an online forum run by a friend from a previous version of my life. The group’s theme is Body Love and encourages women to love every inch of their body, no matter their size. Yesterday she posted a picture of an average-sized woman with a larger-than-model-thin body, overwritten with positive life experiences: ran 12K, walked through India, etc. She asked for feedback for her coaching, and in a total fit of honesty, I responded:

I hate the feeling of squeezing into pants/skirts – even if I can hide the squeeze, say, under a loose blouse – that I love and that previously made me feel fantastic. No one feels fantastic when their waistline or bra feels pinched. Ugh! I hate having tried on this and that and *everything* appropriate for the event and just not finding the right thing, even though I have a closet filled with clothes. I hate having to spend money to maintain more than one size of clothes in my closet. I hate the change of seasons as the clothes that just fit are now too hot or cold for the current temperatures. I love that my body supports me in so many important ways, and I hate feeling like I haven’t supported my body in likewise important ways.

This morning I felt some amount of shame at having bared my soul about my body, and even more so when I realized how many women I know personally also participate in the group. While drying my hair, I remembered a wise friend encouraging a group of young moms to start each day by saying into the mirror, “Well, hello, Beautiful!” God creates us perfectly, and who are we to say God’s work isn’t beautifully done? So I tried it. It felt funny, and right, uncomfortable because I have an uncomfortable relationship with my body.

I eat healthier than most people I know. I try to get regular exercise and I feel great when I do. My doctor says I am healthy. But I’m not athletic or physically energetic and my favorite pass times involve sitting (writing, for example). I don’t look the way I’d like to and with age it becomes more difficult. I don’t want to make excuses, and I need to make peace. And so I continue to wrestle.

Guy and I watched a TV show last night that included an attractive woman with an unattractive personality. He commented, “You know, she could really be pretty if she could just act nicely.” Huh. He doesn’t think she’s pretty. We’ve all experienced that to be true – attitude affects your appearance.

This morning a friend shared a quote from a business seminar she attended last weekend:

Dear friend, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, and now nothing to hide or fear or regret; for today we saw your smile and it was wide and beautiful and true and awakened; it was a moment when your soul burst through your worry and it shined for us as an unapologetic glimmer of joy and humanity, a stunning instance of genuine expression… It was a simple thing, those gorgeous corners of your mouth turned up, and perhaps it felt like a daring expression in a world drowning in a pool of pessimism, an unplanned revolt in a time of chaos where all those frowns and furled brows are symbols of disconnection from gratitude and presence and life. But your smile, dear friend, it stirred hope in us. And then you laughed and it seemed a thousand joyous songs leapt into the air and brought the world to its feet. So we ask that you gift us with your smile more often…Brendon Burchard, Live.Love.Matter.

She said she felt compelled to share it with us because of all she’s gleaned from participating in our church and in particular because of one Bible passage she heard recently:

Be joyful always. Pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

God gave me this particular body along with my particular set of gifts and talents and preferences. I can complain and grumble about the qualities I might wish different. Or I can make a decision to say “Thank you” to my Creator. I can wear a smile, laugh, focus outward, delight in the company of my family and friends, savor good food and wine, and be joyful in my life. Yes!