Responding to COVID-19

I've been asked multiple times how I am responding to the COVID-19 situation.

I've been hesitant to want to share much on social media because I believe my response to each person's question is uniquely formed for the person who is doing the asking.

I do not believe this is the time for a 'one-size-fits-all' response, but varies depending on with whom I'm conversing.

In 1 Corinthians 8 and 9, Paul expresses the freedom in Christ has has found that allows him to eat food once thought to be unclean. His caution in these two chapters is not in the freedom of this discovery as much as in the self-limiting posture he chooses to make on behalf of others. While he may be perfectly content eating meat sacrificed to idols, to someone else, this action would inhibit them from hearing about Jesus and thus being a stumbling block to faith. "Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak." 1 Corinthians 8:9

As we navigate these uncharted waters of quarantine and care, I would encourage you to be sensitive to the Holy Spirit's guidance as to how to guide and care for people. While some activities (like going to the grocery store) may sound harmless to you, it could be a health-risk for others. We cannot shame someone for grocery shopping just like we cannot judge someone else for continuing to go to work.

Some people need to be strongly encouraged to practice self-care by self-quarantining themselves for their safety and health. Perhaps you fall into the category of 65+ or a compromised immune system or you are the care-giver of someone with that description. I would hope you are giving yourself permission to stay home. Please reach out to others in your circle-of-care to run errands and gather groceries for you. I've noticed this age demographic does not want to burden others - but this is not the time to be a super-hero and serve others, this is a season to care for yourself by self-isolating. God, I pray you would surround people who identify with this description with your peace as we feel afraid and vulnerable. I pray as we reach out for help and put our trust in other people that you would surround us with circles of support and care so that each of us can "feel" you near, even in this time of intangibility.

Others suddenly find themselves being overloaded with additional responsibilities. Many are being asked to work the same number of hours, but now from home while they are also tending to children, children's school work, and feeding a house-full of people three-meals-a-day. I pray for the moms and dads in this stage of life, that you would give us strength, energy and compassion as we calm the anxiety of our children, sooth souls with warm meals and coordinate schedules to still get our own work done. Give us an extended level of grace as we stumble often, but continue to keep pressing onward. I pray for peace in the home and for relational tension to be eased. May Your Spirit abide in our homes. 

Some people are looking for a place to help. They may find themselves within the range of a "COVID-19 Healthy Person." Many agencies and non-profits need people to help. Our schools are continuing to provide lunches/breakfasts for children in our community. Our 'older' or overwhelmed neighbors may appreciate someone to go to the store for them. This is your opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus in a very tangible way. If you don't already know your neighbors, introduce yourself and offer your services to help them stay safe. I pray for discernment as we listen for what You are calling us to do and how/who to lean toward during this season. Show us one or two with whom we can make a difference.

For others, the fear of this situation has been crippling. Too much news can indeed be too much news. I challenge you that whatever negative you are inputting, to be equalizing (or go beyond) that amount of positive input. Positive input can be going for a walk, listening to music, petting your dog, reading your Bible, sitting in silence, writing in a journal, taking pictures, painting a picture, writing a poem. Give yourself time to process. We can't process if we're constantly inputting. Make margins to protect your emotional and mental health as you give yourself permission to take care of yourself by going for a walk or writing a card. Remember especially, that you are not alone. God, I pray Your presence would calm anxious hearts. Give us permission to turn off our televisions and instead listen to our heartbeats and focus on You. Quiet the noise around us so we can hear Your steadfast voice reassuring us that You are near. 

This is an unprecedented time in which we are called to care for one another and ourselves. I have heard many encouraging stories of people helping other people. I am praying this crisis can bring us together as a collective group and not pull us apart as individuals.

Let's continue to care for the marginalized, the weak and the vulnerable - but have discernment to know who's who. Who needs to be encouraged to help and who need to be encouraged to stay home.

Let us not throw shame or judge others - we don't know their story.

Let's remember to love like Jesus - wholeheartedly and creatively.

May God's peace, presence and power be with you as we walk through this time together. Keep reaching out. We need each other now more than ever.

Connie

"These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In this world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world." John 16:33

Do You See It?

View of the south-side of Mount Shasta

 Driving home from Oregon two days ago I experienced the most terrifying moments of my life. 

Bret had been driving for four hours. We had stopped for breakfast in Grants Pass but it was now time for a second cup of coffee in Weed.

As we stopped to stretch our legs, I told my kids to look for Mount Shasta (which was currently encased in clouds).

"Believe it or not, there's a magnificent mountain behind those clouds. If you're patient, you might catch a glimpse of it." We got our coffee and stood in the parking lot waiting to catch the view. (see picture)

Two hours later we switched drivers in Redding. With a full tank of gas, the kids watching a movie in the back, and Bret getting comfortable in the passenger seat I moved into the fast lane, happy to set my cruise control at 80 mph on our way home to Fresno.

Thirty miles south of Redding, both lanes of traffic were flowing at fast speeds and were full of semi-trucks and cars. I know the age-old rule of never driving in someone's blind spot, but when both lanes are traveling at fairly equal rates and are tight with traffic, it's hard to stay out of someone's blind spot.

Suddenly, without warning, the car a few feet ahead of me in the right lane merged into my lane.

I tried to break lightly hoping the driver would eventually see me and back-off.

He did not.

Within milliseconds, I was pushed onto the shoulder.

I tried to ride the shoulder and not get dragged too far into the median while I eased down harder on the breaks realizing I've got to slow my car down. With my front-wheels breaking, my back wheels began to sway, catching my back left wheel in the gravel outside the shoulder and sucking my car into the median.

It's amazing how fast our minds can race in the middle of an emergency...

Years ago, Bret and I had rented a wave-runner at Shaver Lake. I remember driving over a large wave that made me nervous. Worried I was going to flip us over, I let off the gas (which for a wave-runner is equivalent to pressing the brakes) which spun Bret and I both off the boat, knocking Bret in the head. That experience taught me that suddenly breaking when traveling at an accelerated rate will produce unexpected torques and turns - it's much better to ease speed down, if possible.

With a tight grip on the steering wheel I was fighting to keep my car facing forward. North-bound traffic was just a few yards to the left of me, as was the South-bound traffic behind me.

I've never wrestled an alligator, but that is my best comparison. My car pulled left, so I pulled right. It pulled right, so I pulled left. Every tiny movement of my steering wheel was amplified by my speed as I tried to keep us from spinning out completely or flipping over into on-coming traffic.

What felt like forever finally ended as my van came to a stop landing perpendicular in the middle of CA I5 South. I glanced over my right shoulder at my two children and the on-coming traffic in the window.

My next thought: my children are in on-coming traffic. 

All I could see in my back window was a semi-truck.

..........................................................

Since you're obviously reading this story a few days after this incident, there's a good ending. 

The semi-truck and all other traffic had seen the car run me off the road. They had backed off and had come to a crawl. Have you ever seen a police officer perform a traffic-break? It was like there was a supernatural break-in-traffic, surrounding our car.

My car wouldn't turn on as we sat still on the freeway.

After a few deep breaths, I got it on.
"We're okay, Connie," my husband said kindly and calmly, "just put it into drive."

The truck behind me flashed his lights to signal to go ahead and adjust my car to drive forward. He was buffering me to help make a path for me to get off the freeway. Other cars gave me space to merge over into the right lane and soon I was off the freeway.

Up the off-ramp. Signal to turn right. Break at the stop sign. Look both ways. Turn onto the road. Drive a few more yards to a place to pull over. Put the car in park. Turn the car off.
My brain was reduced to auto-pilot. We were off the road and out-of-danger.

"Are you okay?" my husband gently asked.

The dam of emotions broke and I began to weep and shake.

We all got out to give each other hugs and check on Crosby (that's my car's name, her color is Bing Cherry). Except for gravel being impelled deep on her underside, she looked good.

A white van pulled up behind us and a woman got out.

"I saw the whole thing and knew this was a family van so I wanted to make sure you were okay. Can I give you a hug?" With tears streaming from both our eyes, a mom I do not know embraced me.  "That was some fancy driving. I thought for sure you were going to flip. You did good."

Suffice to say, I didn't drive home.

Once we were back on the road, I quietly teared up thinking of so many "what ifs" that would have been tragic for my family. On all counts, no damage was done. I believe our lives were spared on Tuesday. God helped me wield my car, surrounded us with a buffer of protection and a space where we were safe to drive (crazily) in the median. I'm doing my best to keep the potential-tragedy-thoughts at bay and instead focus on the reality of extreme blessings we experienced in this story.

I also have to be honest with not even knowing how to share my thankfulness. While I am aware that our lives were spared on Tuesday, three of my friends have died in car accidents in my life-time. I would never claim God was with me and not with my friends. Somehow - though I may never understand - I believe God is good and with us all the time, in tragedy and in joy. I do not believe God ordains, or wills the tragedy - I believe He is a God of love, never seeking retribution but always seeking restoration. (as you can tell...lots of internal processing going on...)

I've been thinking a lot about that majestic mountain that is so often shrouded in clouds and hard to see - or even know is there. Regardless of whether I believe it is there or not, or spend time gazing to catch a glimpse of it or not - the mountain remains. I experienced the power of that majesty touching earth on Tuesday and am forever grateful to God.

May you spend time looking for God-at-work in your life and in our world. Just like Mount Shasta, God is here - look and see! 

The north-side of Mount Shasta

"I lift my eyes to the mountains - where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip - he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD watches over you - the LORD is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD will keep you from all harm - he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." ~ Psalm 121 

Gifts without Pain

Two months ago I watched, "Spiderman Far From Home" in the theater. Before the movie, a trailer for the movie, "Gemini Man" came on.

In this movie, Will Smith plays an aging hitman who is being targeted by a clone of his younger self. In this brief preview, Smith's character is trying to understand why he is on the hitlist and why he has a 25-year-old clone trying to kill him.

I was not super-intrigued by the movie until one of Smith's colleagues, in trying to explain the clone, says, "He has all of your gifts without your pain."

I have to admit, I've been chewing on this line for two months now.

"He has all your gifts without your pain."

What kind of person would I be without my pain? 

It's easy to look back on life and wonder how things would be different if certain events hadn't taken place. Maybe I'd be able to trust people. Or maybe I would be more confident. Perhaps, without my pain, I would be able to speak my mind and share my insights more freely. Maybe I would finally be able to tell people no - put my foot down when I don't agree. What kind of person would I be without my pain?

Would the "me-without-pain" be someone I would want to be friends with? Work with? Live with?

Is pain a gift or a liability? 

I usually think about my past as being a liability - something that has happened that has made me weak or hurt me to such a degree that I'm considered a used good. But what if my liabilities are actually strengths? Not in the religious view of the more beat down I am the greater God's power can be seen in me - but more of an awareness that the more pain I lean into and let shape me, the more I can empathize with others and the more I am transformed to look and act like Jesus.

Jesus knew pain. Jesus knew loss. Jesus knew suffering.
It is this suffering-Jesus, wrapped up in full-humanity, that I can connect with.

The haunting reality is that the resurrected Jesus showed the scars of the cross to his disciples. Jesus told his disciple Thomas to, "Reach here your finger, and see My hands; and reach here your hand, and put it into My side..." (John 20:27) Could it be Jesus' scars still exist, not to remind us of his pain, but to reassure us of Jesus' ability to understand the pain - an acknowledgment of how his pain has shaped him just like our pain shapes us. Our pain should not become our identity, but it does leave us reminders of the transforming that has gone on in our lives.

Not that any of us would want to voluntarily sign-up for a painful experience, but I have to consider the shaping I have gone through because of my pain, not despite it. I wouldn't trivialize my experiences by calling them "blessings," but I do acknowledge how they have softened my rough edges and given me more compassion and empathy for others.

I remember John Wimber saying never to trust a leader without a limp. Our limp shows our wrestling with our humanity and brings our conscience attention to our fragility and need for a Savior. The 25-year-old clone without a limp, without pain, is not human. It is our pain that bridges our connections with one another and draws us to Jesus. Pain is the equalizer we have all experienced and been shaped by. Does our pain soften us or toughen us? I imagine it would be possible to become cold and calloused to the pain, or we can submit to the pain, letting it wash over us, moving with it like waves in the sea, allowing it to shape us.

Me without my pain? That would be a woman I would not want to meet. 

Good Night, Old House

Such a strange night. I lay on the floor looking up and out the window into the low-hanging coastal clouds lit dimly by the City of Torrance lights. The cool breeze blows through the opened windows as I drift in and out of memories. I should go to sleep, tomorrow will be a big day, but the nostalgic in me can't help but allow my mind space to wander...

Tomorrow is moving day.

My grandparents bought this home in 1955, my dad was three-years-old. This is the place I've celebrated Christmas and Thanksgiving for 43-years and the place I knew I could drop in at any time to find my grandparents. My grandma's favorite color is green, so imagine every rug, curtain, couch in various shades of green. Life at 21905 Evalyn wasn't always easy - my grandparents have known quite a bit of pain. I'd like to say these walls have been filled with laughter and joy, but unfortunately, my experience here has been a mix of a variety of emotions and experiences. Regardless, it has been home-base for my grandparents, 89 and 86, and now it is time to say good-bye to this place. I wonder what my grandparents are thinking?

I struggle finding the right words to help them pack tonight...is there anything I can say to make this easier? I hurt watching them wrestle with their bodies that are turning against them...is there anyway I can help bring dignity and grace to their aging? What do they pack? What should they give away? What memories will need to be shredded? I wonder what my grandparents are thinking?

Such a surreal experience - looking at black-and-white photos of relatives I've never met. I don't know their story or how their story connected to mine. I found a drawer filled with funeral programs from years of friends passed. I wonder what my grandparents are thinking?

The walls are bare - only faded rectangles of memories where pictures, cross-stitches or decorations once hung. Soon, only indentions will be on the carpet - the shadow of lives lived well. The northern wall which kept watch over the piano will soon be empty, leaving whispers of hymns and Beethoven. 

 

"Oh, it's just a house, Connie." So true, just a house. Yet I've learned I'm a person moved by space. "Just a house" to some, but my childhood to me, and a lifetime to my grandparents.

Tomorrow my sister and I will help my grandparents say goodbye to their home, their church, their friends - the only life they've known - and move to Fresno. I imagine they are afraid. I imagine they are uncertain. My dad, brother, uncle and brother-in-law will stay behind loading up the last bit of furniture into the moving truck. 

I lay here and pray for our drive "home." I can't begin to understand what they will be feeling tomorrow. I pray God comforts their grieving hearts and gives my sister and I the words, hugs and encouragement they need to transition well. Before the rush of getting them into the car, I pray they can say good-bye well. I am nervous about our drive, but I know God is faithful - His presence is constant and His love is unwavering. I know He is good and will be with us...I wonder what my grandparents are thinking...

Good night, Old House, and thank you.

Ash Wednesday 2019

I've snuck into Catholic Ash Wednesday services for at least nine years. I recall picking up all three children at their elementary school and remember them being appalled and embarrassed that their mom, who was not Catholic, had gone to an Ash Wednesday service and had a black cross marked across her forehead. 

Perhaps it was John Wimber's admonishion to love the whole Church - the bells and smells - which drew me to Church traditions like Lent and Advent. Perhaps it was my love of nature and her seasons and routines that drew me to the rhythms of our Christian calendar. Or perhaps it was the Spirit drawing me to seasons that stood in the place of mystery and made room for lament and prayer. Whatever the reason, I became captivated then - to my children's chagrin - and have continued to attend services since.

This year, working in a new place, I was delighted to discover North Fresno Church holds an Ash Wednesday service! Such a treat to be part of a beloved service which I normally have just attended! I even got the opportunity to admonish the ashes! Never in a million years did I think I would get the chance to put the sign of the cross in ash on people's foreheads!! It was such an honor (and so much fun!) to minister to people in this way on this beautiful holy day as we make more space for Jesus and take time to reorient our lives toward Him: the author and perfector of our faith.

St. Francis de Sales said, "Lent is the autumn of the spiritual life during which we gather fruit to keep us going for the rest of the year." 

Lent is traditionally a season to give up "something" but it could also be a season to pick-up something. As I've been praying about what I should "do" these next 40-days, I've been stunned by the silence. Oh, I've had a few ideas, but I can tell they're just my own ideas, not necessarily prompted by the Holy Spirit. But I've known God long enough to know He will speak to me at the right time. 

I was in a meeting last week and a pastor friend of mine said that he is giving up fear for Lent. "Giving up fear?" I thought? "Is that an option? Can we give up something intangible, but so powerful like that?" While I don't think 'fear' is quite my thing this season, it did get me thinking. Instead of giving up tangible items like coffee, soda and TV, what powers are at work in my life that are getting a foothold, stealing my fruit and poisoning my vine? 

During one of our stations tonight an idea dropped in my mind. Can I give up busyness? Can I say no to being busy? While it seems vague and impossible to get my hands around, being "too busy" is definitely a power at work in my life trying to destroy me! Perhaps because it seems like such a large monster God is calling me to name it and then slowly cut off it's tentacles that have been creeping into every square-inch of my life.

So, I'm giving up being busy. That's not to say I plan on sitting around the house doing nothing. But to instead intentionally rest. Actually schedule garden-time, walks with friends and perhaps even a silent-retreat day to just escape away with the One whom I love so much. Would fasting from coffee be easier? Probably. But the fruit of 40-days of intentional quiet and slower pace may just reap a harvest of fruit which will feed me for the rest of the year! 

My prayer is that you too use this Lent season as an opportunity to reorient and adjust your life toward Jesus Christ. How has your life gotten off-track, even just so slightly? What can you do (or not do!) to make space for the Spirit to speak to you? God has reached out to us through His Son and made us in right relationship with Him and with others. We've been adopted into His family and have a new inheritance of being His kids, his representatives on this earth! We are loved beyond measure! With this in mind, let us joyously embark on this 40-day journey toward the cross. Let us live with intentionality, making space for times of lament, quiet and reflection. Let us draw closer to Jesus.

A Beautiful Fragrance

“And while He was in Bethany at the home of Simon the leper, and reclining at the table, there came a woman with an alabaster vial of very costly perfume of pure nard; and she broke the vial and poured it over His head.

But some were indignantly remarking to one another, ‘Why has this perfume been wasted? For this perfume might have been sold for over three hundred denari, and the money given to the poor.’ And they were scolding her.

But Jesus said, ‘Let her alone; why do you bother her? She has done a good deed to Me. For the poor you always have with you, and whenever you wish, you can do them good; but you do not always have Me. She has done what she could; she has anointed My body beforehand for the burial. And truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world, that also which this woman has done shall be spoken of in memory of her.’” Mark 14:3-9

As my Holy Week reflection continues, today I’ve been thinking about the woman who broke the alabaster jar of oil and anointed Jesus’ head. I challenge you to read this story and let it play out in your mind. Watch a table full of men become indignant when a woman not only dare to enter the room and  interrupt their luncheon, but then have the audacity to break a bottle of anointing perfume and pour it over the guest of honor’s head! Mark’s gospel leaves us asking questions about the identity of this woman and her relationship to Jesus and the other men present. Was she someone Jesus had interacted with previously? Did the disciples know her? What drew her to bring this extremely expensive vial to where Jesus was eating and anoint him?  

The men around the table were obviously bothered by her actions. What was it that made them uncomfortable? Was it the money “wasted” on Jesus by emptying this special anointing oil as Mark states, “why has this perfume been wasted?” We so often disguise our own discomfort behind religious facades or religious shaming instead of looking at the reason behind our own uneasiness. Were they bothered by a woman operating in a priestly role of anointing someone? Were they uncomfortable by the powerful smell of the perfume poured over their guest? Perhaps they were embarrassed on behalf of their guest since he is now soaked in oil? Or maybe they were indignant that they themselves hadn’t considered anointing Him? While we don’t know all the details behind the story, it’s fascinating to be quiet and let our minds wonder…

Interesting that Mark is clear about identifying the house as “the home of Simon the leper.” Is this perhaps one of the 10 lepers Jesus healed earlier? Isn’t it interesting that someone who has been healed can still (perhaps) be a person who shames another person’s actions? The Gospel of Mark doesn’t say who is “indignant;” it could be Simon the leper, Jesus’ disciples (not even mentioned) or other people at the table- we simply don’t know.  

My favorite line of Jesus' in this story is, "Leave her alone." I love how quickly Jesus silences the religious shaming and stops the mockery of the marginalized. He sees the heart of the woman and is pleased by her actions.

I created a Holy Week activity last week for the children and was reading this particular story and drawn to the element of the perfume. In preparation for my little activity, I purchased a small bottle of hyssop oil (nard is from a hyssop plant) for the children to put a drop on their wrist to smell it and think about having this oil covering their head.

In contemplating the perfume over the last few days I began to wonder how long the smell of the oil lingered on Jesus. I don’t think baths were daily occurrences in Jesus’ day, so is it possible that even on the cross the smell of this woman’s perfume lingered in the breeze. Activated by his sweat and mixed with his blood, this anointing aroma could have been a reminder to Jesus of the woman’s kindness – an added comfort to him in his dark hour.

As I think about aromas, I wonder what kind of aroma I am leaving. I’ve been through some things that have left me bitter and angry. The pain in my heart has turned my “aroma” into criticism and suspicion. My soul needs to be cleansed by the power of the Holy Spirit – only He can purify the toxins in my heart and purge me of built-up frustration and pain. I want to live a life of a pleasing aroma that brings comfort and a reminder of God’s incarnate presence with us. As I reflect on the power of lingering aroma, I am challenged to examine my heart, look at the ugliness I hide, and pray for God to continue His work in me.

 "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from Thy presence, and do not take Thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of Thy salvation, and sustain me with a willing spirit." ~ Psalm 51:10-11

Prayer. God, purify our hearts. As we consider this woman's anointing of Jesus' head, we pray you would cleanse us from bitterness, anger and pain. Let our aromas be sweet and bring comfort and peace to every person we talk to and every room we walk into. As this anointing perfume poured over Jesus a few days before His death, I pray the oil of Your Spirit would pour over our minds and soak into our hearts. We desire to be people of peace who leave your lingering presence wherever we go. Continue to heal us. Continue to transform us. Let the brokenness of our lives exude the joy of Your Spirit through Your powerful healing, restorative grace. Amen

Calling over Comfort

I was at school Thursday when I received news of a friend passing away. Our class took a short break so I took the opportunity to walk outside in the light midst of the rain.

As I passed by the Fresno Pacific Chapel I thought, "I should go in there. It's quiet. It's dry. And it's a safe place to reflect and be alone." Upon entry, however, there was a man inside kneeling at the front spending some time in prayer. I suddenly had this feeling I'd walked into a sacred place, I did not belong and I should not have opened the door.

I quietly closed the large, heavy door and retreated to my normal place, outside, behind the chapel. As an undergrad at Fresno Pacific there used to be large evergreen trees sheltering this little spot and I would journey here often to be alone and pray.

As I leaned against the brick wall, finding shelter from the falling rain, I felt at home and at peace knowing right on the other side of the wall was the "front" of the chapel, where I was going to pray, "I'm just on the other side," I thought to myself as I rested against the wall. God gently spoke to my heart and asked, "What are you doing outside?"

The question forced me to begin pondering how odd it was that I would rather sit outside where I was comfortable (in the rain) instead of the inside of the chapel. Was I that drawn to nature that I'd rather be outside? Perhaps. Is the Chapel just too stuffy and dark for my personality? Perhaps. Or is there a deeper feeling of inadequacy to enter going on? Perhaps.

I love my Old Testament. Through my personal study of my Bible as a teenager and into my 20's, I picked up on themes of women not measuring up - women being unclean, or even worse - downright villainous. King David can have an affair and kill the woman's husband and be forgiven, but Jezebel, oh, watch out! All women are like Jezebel! Samson can kill thousands of people and be honored, but Delilah, watch out! Never trust a woman - look what happened to poor Samson. Even Joseph was no match for Pottiphar's wife! Hm... I won't even begin with ceremonial cleansing practices. Reading it through a feminine lens can only mean between menstruation, childbirth, and "wifely duties," a woman is ridiculously unclean.

Whereas wicked deeds done by men are singled out as an anomaly of that particular person or situation, wicked deeds done by women are treated as a warning for men to be aware of the inherently evil characteristics of women. You may think I over-exaggerate too much. Perhaps.

I'm simply being honest with how the biblical text has shaped my view of women.

In my 30's I began reading texts differently, approaching these stories of women not as "representatives of my gender" but as warnings for all - male and female. I also began studying stories of "invisible" women who do not get mentioned in Bible Studies or Sunday mornings - Leah, Tamar, Hagar, Jael, Rehab, Ester, Ruth, Abigail... - so many awesome women who shaped history positively.

While I know "we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weakness, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin." It is still hard for me, as a woman, to feel like I can, "draw near with confidence to the throne of grace (in order to) receive mercy and...find grace to help in time of need." (Hebrews 4:15-16)

Confidence is what is lacking.

The scriptures I have studied and experiences of my faith have brought me to the place of knowing I can approach God. I am invited into this sacred space. But yet I still choose the comfort of the outside wall. No matter how many people, male and female, tell me I'm silly to remain outside, I have an internal personal wrestling that continues to get the best of me.

Leaning on the wall, God spoke to my heart challenging me to choose calling over comfort.

I'm sure I am not alone in my feelings of inadequacies and I don't think this is solely a female thing, but instead a valuing issue. Do we, as followers of Christ, male and female, see our personal value and belovedness? Do we realize the treasure that is within us? How can I "love my neighbor" if I am not valuing myself? Sheesh!

It is a slow process to see our value and know we are loved by our Father God not by our performance, but by simply being His kids. Thankfully, God is for us and is with us in our transformation as we become more clearly His representatives on earth, more and more comfortable in our own skin.

Prayer: God, thank you for reminding me that You are calling me inside. Help me see my value and walk in places that might be uncomfortable. Challenge me to walk where You are calling me to walk. My heart's cry is to only go where Your Presence leads. Continue to make me lie down in green pastures, lead me beside quiet waters, and guide me in the paths of righteousness...so I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.