Something Beautiful

Grace.  That's what I named my car; the car that my parents gifted me as a wedding present. John Wesley defined grace as the undeserved, unmerited, and loving action of God in human existence through the Holy Spirit. This is the embodiment of a second chance. None of us deserve a second chance. None of us can earn a second chance. A second chance is all about love. Love that refuses to leave us where we are. I recently re-read a post I had written 5 years ago about my singleness. At the time, I had no idea what story God was writing. I have no idea where the story will be in another 5 years.  What I do know is where I am today and how I got here.  Five years ago, my husband was two years out of a horrible divorce. I didn't know him yet. I wouldn't meet him for another two years. By the time we met, he had become content with being single for the rest of his life, and I wasn't so sure that marriage was in my future.  I often think: I have no idea what I ...

I grew up in the I Kissed Dating Goodbye g eneration (p lease follow the link for information on this book if you are not familiar with it). I was nine when Joshua Harris' book hit the shelves, and by the time I was a te enager, his ideas had taken off like wildfire. I remember studying it in our Sunday school class , and ma king the decision that I would not kiss , have sex , or do anything that would cause harm to my future marriage and spouse.  That decision along with my personal tendencies towards borderline idiotic stubbornness likely kept me from getting into trouble with boys . It also found me 25 and single. For more than ten years , I sav ed myself and wait ed for my Prince Charming to show up. I had been careful to avoid romantic entanglements, having no t so much as held hands with a guy.  Now t here is nothing wrong with being 25 and single. The problem lay in the fact that being 25 and single lead me to question what was wrong with me. I ha...

My heart has hurt for the last year. Just when I thought that nothing could make it worse, there would be yet another news story filled with hateful words and painful circumstances or yet another F acebook post with friends and family fighting and throwing written punches back and forth. My heart hurts because of so much h atred and anger and pain.  Tues day, I voted. And as the polls were closing on the East Coast, I went to church. I gathered with my favorite pastor and members of our church family who fall on both sides of the political spectrum. Together we declared peace and unity. Together we declared that we belong to God and that our allegiance is to Him. We gathered around the Communion Table, we joined hands, and we raised a song in prayer that the Lord would bind our hearts together as one.  We broke bread to remind us of how Jesus allowed Himself to be broken for us. We took the cup to remind us of how Love poured Himself out for us. We prayed for uni...

I don't listen well. I have been discovering this for quite a while. I don't allow people to speak their minds and just listen to them. Instead I'm already formulating my response before I have even heard them out. I cut people off, and I assume that I already know what they are planning to say as soon as I start listening.  This is not actually listening. This is simply waiting for an opportunity to talk, an opportunity to hear my own voice and all the wonderful things I have to say. And I do have good things to say. I have a unique voice and perspective and deep thoughts that should be shared. It is not that it is wrong for me to speak. The problem is that I speak when I should listen. And when I speak instead of listen, I am devaluing my conversation partner . When I am already formulating my response, I am not truly valuing the person in front of me . I am not giving them my time and attention. And shockingly enough, they may not even need me to respond. They may ...

I remember the first time I was asked to help serve communion at church. It felt very sacred and holy to me. As I held out a glass of grape juice and prayed over those who came and dipped their bread in the cup, I was overwhelmed by the act. I realized that this is what our lives are supposed to be like. We are called to hold out the body and blood of Jesus to the world , to show the world what His Kingdom is like. A couple of weeks ago, my pastor husband was serving communion at church, and when one of our congregants came up to receive , h e asked if he could have a big piece of bread because he was hungry. M y husband tore off a big chunk of bread and gave it to him. I chuckled when he told me this story later, but it also made me pause. It made me wonder if sometimes we don't take enough bread . I wonder if maybe we should all be asking for big pieces of bread . Recently, a four year old in our community was killed in a tragic accident. My soul ached. A woman I know ...