Have you ever noticed something about Jesus? Despite the world’s flaws…

• He didn’t race from house to house, knocking on doors, searching out every sick or hurting person he could find.
• He didn’t panickedly confront every social issue or instance of political corruption he could find in the social systems of his day.
• He didn’t rush from religious building to religious building, trying to argue every dissenter into the faith with his list of doctrines.
• He didn’t manically pursue every dream he thought would make a significant mark on the world.

Sometimes it BLOWS MY MIND how many times Jesus (often UNLIKE me) limited his focus to JUST. ONE. PERSON.

• At the well in Samaria, there were likely other women coming to draw water throughout the day. But the Bible only records one conversation with one woman.
• Even though it is likely that many sick people gathered in that area, when Jesus went to the Pool of Bethseda, the Bible reports him healing only one man.
• Jesus met one Jewish leader, Nicodemus, by night.

(The list goes on and on. I’ll let you fill in the rest for yourselves.)

But the point is, Jesus obviously didn’t go to the same leadership trainings I did. If only he had a consultant like me to coach him along and ask the good questions:

• Why not stand at the well and repeat the Living Water metaphor for every woman that came to draw water? Get those women to be your “street team” pushing your water message to the masses? Send out ambassadors to other wells…
• Why not sweep into an area where people are sick and perform mass healings? Why not scoop up every sick person you pass by, striding into their homes and breathing health on the hurting? Maybe come up with a catchy name, a logo, a clear one-line slogan.
• Why not turn your talk with Nicodemus into some sort of movement of thinkers who meet at night to discuss religious thought? Maybe release some books. Develop a free web resource with good content.

NOT saying Jesus ignored the five year plan or that he was a small-thinker.The Great Commission kinda suggests otherwise.

Just saying, sometimes it surprises me when I remember: 

• BIG isn’t what drove Jesus. Bringing what God was stirring inside him to expression drove Jesus.
• NEED isn’t what drove Jesus. He didn’t seek out need, yet he never failed to respond to it whenever someone in need crossed his path.
• Sometimes, in my effort to be significant, I take on mentalities (”change the world” “meet every need” “inspire the human race”) that Jesus himself–THE SAVIOR OF THE PLANET–didn’t even take on.
• Jesus, 100% God, himself respected the natural limits of human time and energy.

This challenges me. If you surveyed 100 of my friends, 100 of them would report I err on the side of chasing BIG, significant things. Talk to me for five minutes and I’ll try to sell you a way to globalize what you’re doing.

But I also want to be a person who recognizes that the BIG THING going on in my life SOMETIMES lies … in ONE PERSON.

I want to recognize when a person’s spirit is hot with God’s presence…
When they need permission to dream…
Someone who wants them to heal…
A trustworthy voice to come out of the woodwork to support them and the God-in-them that needs to come out…

I’m not gonna lie. I want to do BIG THINGS. But it’s good for my conscience to remember: even the small things are big things if they are the RIGHT things.

Tweet This Post

Somewhere along the way I became disillusioned with institutional religion. And I wrote a book about it called Dear Church. I was 24.

During that time, my husband and I moved into the Jackson area, which is nicknamed “Prison City” because it houses the state prison. I took up teaching, which eventually landed me in our alternative high school. Along the way, we began attending a church plant that meets in the local YMCA downtown.

Even though I’ve left church as an occupation, I still love communities of faith. I travel and speak at conferences and events about my books (most recently Picking Dandelions, which also falls into the faith & spirituality category). And occasionally, a church asks me to set the books aside to be part of a series they are doing–to give a more traditional morning message that fits into their studies.

This last Sunday at Jacob’s Well was one of those special occasions when I got to be part of a traditional Sunday morning service plan again.

Jacob’s Well has a vibrant history and a beautiful building that blends historic, institutional church detail with a genuine, laidback community feel. And I have to admit, being part of a church community at that level for a weekend, gave me a sense of nostalgia.

Ahhhhhh. The Church. =)

Tweet This Post

I admit it. I’m an American Idol stalker. (Meaning, I don’t have a lifelong fascination, but I do a drive-by here and there. More so lately.)

I know. I know. A.I. is a sometimes shameful fame-fest that is as “indulgent” as Simon Cowell accuses any contestant of being. But they lured me in, very stealthly.

I started out as an occasional audition-junkie.

It is hard not to be fixated when they scrape up contestants who share two important spotlight-stealing traits:
1. They couldn’t carry a tune if their life depended on it. Literally.
2. Their parents were all masterful liars. (“No, honey, that shrill cats-being-tortured-tone is beauuuuuutiful.”)

My lack of total fanaticism is a result of all the actual competitions, which tend to bore me. The most exciting part, other than the inhuman vocal range of say, Adam Lambert, is–let’s be honest–all the judges’ little barbs and insults. I generally fast-forward through a lot of the songs to get to my favorite performers. And sometimes I just plain forget about the show for a few weeks until an AOL headline about the final episodes jars my memory.

The thing that keeps me coming back though is the Story of the Win.

I love that moment–that first thiry seconds–after contestants make the cut and win the chance to go to Hollywood. Or the moment when they make the Top Ten and thus, the chance to go on tour. Or when, finally–after all the shtick-y group cabaret dances and Ford videos–someone wins the whole sha-bang.

I like to watch their faces.
The tears.
The sappy grins.
The sloppy uncontrollable joy that turns their formerly polished performer-selves into emotionally charged puddles of sheer joy.

Something about that moment chokes me up. Its like seeing potential lit on fire in front of you.

I think it connects to that part of me–to that part of us?–that is “dreamer”; the part of us that longs for someone to acknowledge our hard work and talent; the part of us that is dying for the resources and opportunity to pursue our dreams.

Sometimes I like to look at my life through my “dreamer lens”.
I hope, for example, for specific things.
That certain career post.
That perfect friendship.
That story book adventure.

And that’s cool. I think dreaming–the act of envisioning hope– is healthy.
And I think its congruent with God’s age-old desire to see humans flourish.
But I’ve learned, and am still learning, to hold those dreams in perspective.

Have you ever seen Psalm 37:4, for example? It says, “Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Its easy, of course, to read that and be like, “See that! Right there! God is going to make my dreams come true.” (“I am going to be a Top 40 recording artist, even though I can’t sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Stars without people shrieking in pain!”)

But over time, I’ve noticed something else that might be tucked away in the verse. And that’s the maybe just-as-important implication that AS we delight in the Lord, our hearts will grow closer to God’s heart. We will want the things God wants for our lives; we will long for his will and his purposes. And then, as we take on more of God, what he gives us will end up being exactly what we want most.

It will be the Story of our Win.

What about you? How are you finding the Story of Your Win in the life God has given you? I’d love to hear about it.

**Leave a comment by clicking on the “Comments” box to the right of the title of this blog post.**

Tweet This Post

Happy Easter morning all. I’m taking a 10 day stretch away from the online world, but scheduled this

(Don't worry. I made sure the soft-bound was simulated leather.)

blog–an Easter reflection I contributed to the Mosaic Bible–to post in celebration of today.

If you’d like to see more from the Mosaic Bible, here is a special link to an 84 pg. excerpt which also includes a Christmas reflection by yours truly. :)

Many blessings on Easter, my friends.
Sarah

As a child, I starred in several church plays. And in this case, “starred” must be defined loosely. At Christmas, my friend Colleen was Mary. I was a snotty-nosed barnyard lamb nudging up to the manger to see what was going on. At Easter, the Mary role passed me by again, and having the wrong anatomy to be a disciple, I was awarded the role of a first-century peasant woman.

Despite being cast as a mere commoner, I loved belting out the Easter songs. Not all the songs, however, seemed fitting for me and my peasant band. The choruses about making way for Jesus, the king, rang true. As a peasant, I would have been excited to see royalty, to lay down my coat as a path for Jesus’ colt. But others perplexed me. I wondered why a peasant would join in the chorus to sing Jesus’ words, “I am the resurrection. Believe in me and live. Look to me for resurrection. For life is mine to give.” Could a commoner really expect to experience resurrection life and glory? But as I sang out with my fellow commoners, I gazed at our bathrobed Jesus, and I found the answer in the smiles on our faces. I felt the warmth of what Jesus had done for us, the normal first-century people, and my voice rang out all the more.

Death and resurrection was not a victory story limited to Jesus. Jesus died and rose from the grave as the first-but not the only-to experience real resurrection {1 Corinthians 15:22-23: Just as everyone dies because we all belong to Adam, everyone who belongs to Christ will be given new life. But there is an order to this resurrection: Christ was raised as the first of the harvest; then all who belong to Christ will be raised when he comes back}. Neither was this death-and-life experience just a role shared by his mother, Mary, or his twelve disciples. The death-and-resurrection script was a script that expanded to include every person, every peasant, every commoner. In the here and now, we are all invited to die and be resurrected-to lay down an old life, full of flaws and dysfunction, for a new life of peace and purpose, hope and passion {Galatians 2:19-20: For when I tried to keep the law, it condemned me. So I died to the law-I stopped trying to meet all its requirements-so that I might live for God. My old self has been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. So I live in this earthly body by trusting in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me}.

Now, as an adult, it is easy to simply sit in the audience and watch the children’s Easter plays unfold. Yet, when I hear them singing, I remember that Jesus’ role includes even me. And I ask myself, How am I dying and being resurrected this Easter?

Tweet This Post

Really.

I would put him up against any crossing guard in the country.

Not only is he vigilant about getting the kids across the street safely, but he’s ecstatic about it.

He maneuvers his flags, complimented by beaming smiles, as if he is the first human to ever welcome an alien spaceship to earth.

But don’t think when those kids continue on that he loses his chipperness.

Because, oh boy, I can tell you. He does not.

When the kids move down the road, he continues to smile, waving his flags in some sort of choreographed routine (not making this up), and chants some sort of upbeat children’s song (I have yet to maneuver my car through the light at the exact speed needed to determine which one).

It is like an off broadway production.

You would buy tickets to sit at this intersection.

But it makes me think, he loves what he does.

He knows what real contentment is.

Paul said, “…I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.” (Philippians 4:11)

Can I say that for myself?

What about you?

Can you?

* * *

If you comment on this blog (click brown comment box under blog title) or RT/Post about this blog on Facebook, you will automatically be entered to win today’s book giveaway- The Triumphs of Joseph: How Today’s Community Healers Are Reviving Our Streets and Neighborhoods. Woodson, founder and president of the National Center for Neighborhood Enterprise and recipient of a MacArthur “genius” grant, argues for increased recognition and support of agents of grass-roots change in the inner city.

This is part of the 25 Days of Giveaway leading up to the Feb. 1st release of Sarah’s book, Picking Dandelions.

Tweet This Post

Sometimes I need to crawl back to the countryside, to just sit there, cross-legged, listening to a revolutionary on a hill.


Sometimes I need a new vision for human life because the one I’ve got just isn’t cutting it.


What I love about this revolutionary is that he starts on a high note–listing people who are…as we say, blessed. Or as the Greek word for “blessed” means,  joined to the name of God.


Perfect, huh? That he starts with people who have broken spirits? People who are mourning. The people who know what NEED is.


I am a privileged skinny white girl, more or less. When it comes to this planet, I have enough. But poor in spirit, broken, mourning? In the last couple months, I’ve been all of those.


But in my brokenness, in my mourning, I am joined to the name of God.


If I can just remember that, I think I can leave the hillside for a while and go back to my life now.

Tweet This Post

Tweet This Post