Category: Jesus

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Book Review of God’s Many Voices: Learning to Listen, Expectant to Hear

Although it can be difficult to pinpoint my exact “moment of salvation” on a timeline, if I go by that day as a ten-year-old when I knelt by my bed, asked Jesus to forgive me of my sins, and offered my life to God, I’d say I’ve been a Christian for thirty years now.

But just as you often hear of martial problems popping up around the twenty, thirty, or forty-year marks, the past couple years of walking with Jesus have been the hardest—mainly because he’s been the most silent. (Or perhaps because I’ve been the most distracted.) But I’ve also felt distant from God as I’ve ogled the shenanigans of the Western Christian church in the news more often than I’ve sat at the feet of Jesus. I’ve been ashamed to be a Christian because the church often looks so different from the Jesus I thought I knew.

So when I picked up Liz Ditty’s book, I’m embarrassed to confess that I didn’t have any expectations of meeting God within the pages. I should have known that with a book called God’s Many Voices: Learning to Listen, Expectant to Hear, God just might have something to say.

I read almost the entire book in one sitting this past weekend during a getaway with my husband. Like the nerds we are, we sat reading for hours in the loft at my parents’ house in the Rocky Mountains, keeping an eye out for the herd of elk wintering at their home in Grand Lake, Colorado. I kept giving my husband the side-eye, wondering if he saw the occasional tear fall or if he was getting annoyed by my furious underlining or vocal responses of “yes” and “hm” as I read.

Even though I think Liz and I are about the same age, as I read, I felt like the author was a trusted older sister sharing her life with me and giving me a peek behind the veil to learn from her relationship with God. Through wise, open, and honest personal stories, Liz neatly unzipped the truths of the Bible in ways I hadn’t considered before. She made me envious of her relationship with Jesus in the best sense of the word—she made me yearn for that kind of relationship myself.

After finishing the book, I feel inspired to spend time with God again on a daily basis. And I want to talk about God again in community with my husband, children, and friends. Liz discusses Bible reading, prayer, and listening in such a compelling way that it made me want to wake up early and begin seeking God like I have in the past. Her writing is clear, beautiful, and winsome, but she also manages to offer plenty of practical tips and ideas for pursuing and listening for the voice of God in our daily lives.

If you are in a wilderness season, a silent stretch, or have hit an apathetic patch in your relationship with God, this book may be just what you need to remind you of the joy, peace, and delight that comes from a thriving relationship with God. As a spiritual guide, mentor, and teacher, Liz will lead you straight to Jesus himself and remind you how to commune with him again.

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I finally bought this book when I noticed it was super cheap on Amazon--$7.58 down from $16.99! I noticed she also has an audio book. If I were you, I’d pick up several copies of God’s Many Voices to give as Christmas gifts! (And if you do buy it, would you be willing to leave an honest review on Goodreads, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon? This helps authors more than you know!)

  • This post contains Amazon affiliate links
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What Two Celibate Priests Taught Me about Mothering

I devoured books on motherhood in the months when I was pregnant with my first child. That was seven years ago. Since the addition of two more children, time has accelerated, flinging schedules, old hobbies, brain cells, and predictable anythings (like reading parenting books) to the fan. So when I come across parenting advice in places I don’t expect, I’m pleasantly surprised. In this case, a priest named Henri Nouwen, and another named Father Gregory Boyle.

Though I’m a long-time fan of Henri Nouwen, I hadn’t read this particular book, called Reaching Out, until last year when I began researching more about hospitality, community, and living out this upside-down faith in Jesus. In it, Nouwen, who himself was childless, tells parents that children are strangers who God has brought into our homes for a time.

He writes, “It may sound strange to speak of the relationship between parents and children in terms of hospitality. But it belongs to the center of the Christian message that children are not properties to own and rule over, but gifts to cherish and care for. Our children are our most important guests, who enter into our home, ask for careful attention, stay for a while and then leave to follow their own way. Children are strangers whom we have to get to know. It takes much time and patience to make the little stranger feel at home, and it is realistic to say that parents have to learn to love their children” (81).

My children are not “little Adams (my husband) and Leslies,” they are little strangers—they are unique individuals. These tiny guests are the first tier of hospitality in my home. Do they feel welcome?

In my holier moments I’m able to remember that my children fit the definition of the “least of these” Jesus calls his followers to serve in Matthew 25. My children are the neediest humans I know. And they live under my roof (practically under my feet and in my hair on most days). Do I serve them with the same level of dignity I might serve anyone else? Do I speak to them with respect? (The answer, sadly, is usually no.) When I feed, clothe, wash, and carry these little ones, I’m feeding, clothing, washing, and carrying Christ.

The other priest who illuminated the next few steps of this messy maze of motherhood was the author of Tattoos on the Heart, a potty-mouthed priest whom I absolutely adore. His latest book, Barking to the Choir had me crying and cackling aloud on every page. What struck me most was the revolutionary way he approaches his ministry with gang members, drug dealers, and those seeking a different life at his ministry, called Homeboy Industries.

Boyle writes, “Homeboy receives people; it doesn’t rescue them. In being received rather than rescued, gang members come to find themselves at home in their own skin. Homeboy’s message is not ‘You can measure up someday.’ Rather, it is: ‘Who you are is enough’” (84). Boyle says, “When we are disappointed in each other, we least resemble God. We have a God who wonders what all the measuring is about, a God who is perplexed by our raising the bar and then raising it even higher” (27).

I was surprised that my mind immediately applied his words to my children. Am I rescuing them or receiving them? Am I disappointed in them, raising the bar to impossible heights—or accepting them for who they are, affirming my belief that they are enough? Boyle’s central message is that the greatest conduit for God’s love is tenderness towards one another. Am I tender towards the littlest guests hunkering down in my home?

For Mother’s Day this year I took each of my kids out for a date. (Last year, my greatest wish for Mother’s Day was to be alone All. Day. Long., but this year I had a change of heart.) At one point, my four-year-old daughter turned from her dandelion-seed-blowing to say, “I know I’m your favorite.” While my first thought was to panic because Am I showing favoritism?, my second thought was that I want to make it my goal to lead each of my kids to believe they are the favorite.

In the coming year, I hope my kids will feel more singled-out, adored, and received for who they are. I pray they’d know their value isn’t tied to what they do, but to who they are as beloved children of God. I know I need to believe this for myself as well: God is tender towards us, receives us, and welcomes us as strangers. We—each one of us—are God’s particular favorite.

*This post includes Amazon affiliate links

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Jesus Is Not a Chair {guest post}

By Halley Kim | Twitter: @halleywkim

“Hi guys! Did you have fun? What’d you learn about?” I called out to my two children from the doorway of the preschool room at church, my infant on my hip. The service was over and because being a pastor’s wife means being a single mom on Sundays, I was more than ready to collect my kids and head home.

“Jesus!” replied two-year-old Phoebe while she played on the floor with blocks. I smiled at her stereotypical answer and smiled at Janice too, the classroom volunteer that week.

But Janice was disturbed. “Well, we had to backtrack quite a bit. Now I’m SURE you’ve told them this, but —” Janice put up her hand like a stop sign and took a big breath before she finished her sentence. “But when I asked them if they knew who Jesus was, they said no.”

Do you know who Jesus is? I wanted to ask. Does anyone, conclusively?

It was obvious she felt improper implying a pastor’s wife wasn’t feeding her children the prescribed diet of indoctrination. Nevertheless she felt it her duty to alert me that my kids were not fast-tracked to Heaven. I felt trapped because I couldn’t respond outside of church lady etiquette. I’m supposed to be a ringleader, not a rebel. I’m supposed to be advancing the gospel, not pondering disconcerting questions, and certainly not slipping in my charge to “train up children in the way they should go.”

Maybe Janice conveyed impropriety, but she did not hold back her objection to my parenting. With no church-sanctioned outlet for my feelings, I choked them down into the bulging box of All The Things I Cannot Say. A splash of anger was displaced by the new deposit, and I thought how easy it would be to snap Janice’s ninety pound frame like a wishbone.

She continued reporting how my children were failing Sunday School. “I asked them if they knew what it meant to believe in Jesus, and they said no. I asked them if they knew what the word ‘believe’ meant, and they said no.” Janice’s eyes seemed to bulge from her skull every time she uttered the word “no.”

“They’re big concepts for preschoolers,” I replied with my Sunday smile. I gazed at Gabe, my five-year-old who was zipping a toy airplane around the room and oblivious to my fury, to my sense of being caged, to my desire to defend my sweet babies who don’t know the five points of Calvinism and who cares anyway.

“Oh, I just used the analogy of a chair!” Janice tapped me on the forearm like she was telling me she substituted applesauce for eggs in a recipe. “I said, ‘Gabe, do you believe this chair will hold you up if you sit down in it?’ And he said ‘yes.’ So then I said, ‘Gabe, what if the legs of the chair were made of paper? Do you believe the chair would hold you up then?’ And he said ‘no.’”

Janice beamed as if to say, “There you go! Easy as that!”

The only thought I could formulate was You can’t use a word in the definition of that word, dummy.

Janice fiddled with the buttons on her sweater like she was waiting for me to thank her for unlocking the mysteries of faith. Her nine-year-old son Andrew stood nearby. Apparently he’d long-ago rejected the children’s Bible in favor of “the real thing.” Janice told me earlier that Andrew was reading before age two (yeah right) and that he just loved to sit on the couch and read Revelations.

Such a weird kid, I thought to myself.

“That Phoebe sure parrots everything Gabe says!” Janice said, changing the subject.

“Oh yeah. She does.” My mouth was full of words I couldn’t say and anger I wasn’t permitted to express. My baby fussed for her overdue nap and the bulging box inside me threatened to explode. Noted! For the hundredth time: “Only round pegs allowed here, so get your square self together.” I do not fit the pastor’s wife mold, nor am I a passable Christian mother. Guess what? You don’t get to grade me. Stop telling me that your way is the only right way.

About Halley:

Halley Kim is a writer and lactation consultant who lives in Phoenix, AZ with her husband and three kids. She has published essays with Mothers Always Write and The Junia Project. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

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Discovering God in All We Lack: Book Review of Glorious Weakness by Alia Joy

What if we lived as though we actually believe God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness? Alia Joy considers this question throughout the pages of her new book Glorious Weakness: Discovering God in All We Lack.

Through lyrical, wistful prose, Alia Joy braids personal stories of poverty, mental illness, and identity with reflections on the Bible’s proclamations about weakness. Alia paints a picture of how the gospel is less about power, strength, and victory, and more about humility, weakness, and death. The Beatitudes—blessed are the poor, meek, and weak—are, in fact, the canvas of the gospel.

Messages about weakness are not always en vogue in Christian (or any) circles. In fact, as I read this book, I found myself humming the lyrics of an old worship song: “Let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich, because of what the Lord has done for us.” Glorious Weakness emphasizes the exact opposite of these words, highlighting the value of the strong admitting weakness and the rich confessing poverty. The paradox of the gospel is that we live through dying.

But despite the melancholic tone of the book, Alia offers hope in every page. Jesus. Love. Mercy. Enough-ness. Instead of the popular message peppered throughout social media memes that if we just rely on ourselves, listen to our hearts, or trust our judgment, then we can be our best selves, Alia offers a surprising reversal.

She writes, “Maybe being poor in spirit is the invitation to truly see the kingdom of God as one who is so loved, so valuable, so recognized by Jesus, a person can come reeking with need and not be found wanting. I meet God most often while splayed not on the altar of my offering but of my poverty” (199).

As a writer myself, I appreciated how Alia Joy activated my sensory experience of the prose through her poetic sentences, imagery, and striking metaphors in ways that many Christian books are deficient. This book demands the reader to slow down and savor each word and sentence and enjoy the beauty of language arranged just-so.

Alia Joy begins her introduction by saying this book is not for everyone. I disagree. I can’t think of a single person who wouldn’t benefit from the message that strength emerges when we first admit we are weak.

You can purchase Glorious Weakness: Discovering God in All We Lack here (pre-order until it is available April 2nd). I am also giving away one free copy to those who sign up for my newsletter by Monday, April 1st, 11:59 pm (MT). Email me at scrapingraisins (at) gmail  (dot) com or drop me a message via social media to let me know you signed up!

*I received a free copy of Glorious Weakness from Baker Publishing House, but this review reflects my honest opinion. This post includes Amazon affiliate links.

About Alia Joy:

Alia Joy is an author who believes the darkness is illuminated when we grasp each other’s hand and walk into the night together. Her first book, Glorious Weakness, Discovering God In All We Lack, (Baker Publishing 2019) is a deeply personal exploration of what it means to be “poor in spirit.” Alia Joy challenges our cultural proclivity to “pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps.” while helping readers reclaim the ways God is good, even when life is anything but.

She writes poignantly about her life with bipolar disorder as well as grief, faith, marriage, poverty, race, embodiment, and keeping fluent in the language of hope.

Sushi is her love language and she balances her cynical idealism with humor and awkward pauses. She lives in Central Oregon with her husband, her tiny Asian mother, her three kids, a dog, a bunny, and a bunch of chickens.

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Hospitality Isn’t a Gift. It’s Something More. + BOOK GIVEAWAY

This post kicks off our theme this month, “Practical (and Impractical) Hospitality.” Check back, comment, and/or follow along on social media to join the conversation! Plus, we’re giving away a free copy of Just Open the Door! Find more details at the bottom of this post.

By Ronne Rock | Twitter: @RonneRock

The kind Vicar smiled and asked who might like to host an evening of good food and great conversation, and sign-up sheets were placed on the table that serves as foyer and guest registry and whatever else is needed on any given Sunday. Church services in an elementary school cafeteria mean that communion is served each week amidst signs encouraging kids to be polite and clean up after themselves, and food pantry contributions are collected in the “nut-free zone” to the right of the front doors. There is no special lighting, no comfortable seat cushions for the lunch tables turned into pews—but there is a nice coffee bar for everyone who attends, set up by volunteers who are quick to offer a napkin and a smile, served up with a piece of homemade pumpkin bread.

Church in an elementary school means that anything that happens beyond Sunday mornings happens somewhere else. Most of the time, that somewhere else is in someone’s home.

Folks who know me would see it is as no surprise when I raised my hand without hesitation to host a dinner. The kitchen and the table are sacred places to me—so much so that I even have a section on my website devoted to #kitchentherapy. There are always lessons to be learned, there is always grace to be lavished and hope to shine brightly there.

Some folks say I have the spiritual gift of hospitality.

I beg to differ.

Because I don’t believe hospitality is a gift.

Oh, I think there are most certainly gifts that are divinely inspired – mine are exhortation, leadership, and wisdom (though I question the last one quite often when I can’t find my glasses while they’re sitting on my face or I freak out that my phone has gone missing while I’m talking to someone on it). But I believe hospitality isn’t one of those gifts for any of us. Rather, it’s a discipline to be practiced by each and every one of us. It’s sprinkled all throughout scripture – in Romans 12, we are told to be kind to everyone and extend hospitality to strangers, and in Hebrews 13, it says that our hospitality may even be brightening the day of angels. Hospitality goes far beyond hanging out with friends. It means caring for strangers, refugees, widows, orphans, wayfaring travelers in need of a little kindness.

It even means treating our enemies with kindness. Yes, even our enemies.

Hospitality isn’t something only some of us are divinely equipped to do. No, hospitality is at its essence a reflection of the personality of Jesus. Maybe that’s why 1 Peter 4:8-9 likens being hospitable with loving well – and we are encouraged to extend hospitality without complaining about it.

Jesus certainly didn’t have to be hospitable to the man He knew was plotting to end His life. And yet, He invited Judas to the same Passover meal as He did the rest of the disciples. He offered Judas the same bread, poured Judas the same wine, and even knelt to wash his feet.

Jesus didn’t have to be hospitable to the disciple who denied even knowing Him as He hung on a cross. And yet, He cooked a fabulous fish and biscuit breakfast for Peter and then told him that love was going to flow through his life like a river.

Hospitality is a potluck. It is a safe place to sleep, or some clean clothes to wear. Hospitality is a kind word or a genuine smile on a hard day, a little spare change to make the journey easier, a warrior prayer. Hospitality is at its best when it’s shared without discrimination, and it shows its muscles most when it is lavished on souls who don’t expect it.

Hospitality is at its best when it’s shared without discrimination, and it shows its muscles most when it is lavished on souls who don’t expect it. @RonneRock

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Trust me, I’m still working on the whole hospitality thing. Laying down my life as a welcome mat for others grinds away the sharp barbs of control and smooths the rough edges of privilege and entitlement. Even the simple act of saying “yes” to a potluck is a lesson in the making, because it means I can’t force the outcome. And for a girl who stares down perfection and anxiety on a regular basis, simply trusting God to indeed work all things together for good (including a dinner filled with folks I don’t know and food I might not like) is a much-needed thing. Here’s to practicing hospitality over and over again.

About Ronne:

Ronne Rock weaves themes of transformative hope into everything she shares on page and stage. An award-winning marketing and communications executive in both the corporate and nonprofit sectors, she offers expertise about creative leadership with faith-based organizations. Ronne is a regular contributor to Orange and QARA, a digital publication that empowers 20-somethings to discover their True North. She now invests her time telling stories that change stories with Orphan Outreach, a ministry dedicated to serving orphans and vulnerable children in developing countries around the world. Ronne also loves to share personal stories about life, love, leadership, and a little #kitchentherapy. Her words are published in Everbloom: Stories of Deeply Rooted and Transformed Lives and the For You Love devotional series. When she’s not working in developing countries, you’ll find Ronne in the Texas Hill Country with her husband, Brad, and rescue mutt, Pearl. Their son and his family live in Arizona, which she has deemed is too far away. You can follow her on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or at her website.

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This month on Scraping Raisins we’re talking about practical and impractical hospitality. Be sure to follow along on my social media channels (buttons on top right of website) and subscribe to my newsletter to be updated on all the posts, plus links to thought-provoking articles from the web and a few books and podcasts.

I still have a few spots open this month, so email me at scrapingraisins (dot) gmail (dot) com if you’re interested in guest posting! You can find writing guidelines here. I would need your submission by October 15th;-)

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In honor of this month’s theme, I’ll be giving away a copy of Just Open the Door: How One Invitation Can Change a Generation, by Jen Schmidt, to one Scraping Raisins reader! This book shares how to take the next steps in extending hospitality to others. To win:

1. Be sure you’re subscribed to my newsletter

2. Share this post on one of your social media outlets (Twitter, Facebook or Instagram) and tag me (find me as either “Leslie Verner” or “Scraping Raisins”).

3. If you tag friends in your share, I’ll enter you once more for each friend you tag.

I’ll be keeping track on my trusty post-it note by my computer and I’ll notify the winner on October 31st! 😉

Sign up for the (occasional) Mid-month Digest and the (loosely) “end of the month” Secret Newsletter for Scraping Raisins Here:

*this post includes Amazon affiliate links

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Run to the Darkness: A Meeting with Michelle Ferrigno Warren, Author of The Power of Proximity

I met Michelle Ferrigno Warren in a crowded empanada restaurant on a hot summer day in downtown Denver. We crossed the street to a pizza joint for a bit more quiet and privacy and Michelle let me ask about her work on immigration reform in Denver and the U.S., her experience writing The Power of Proximity, and her plans for the future.

Michelle and her husband, David, have lived in Denver for over 20 years and are the founders of Open Door Ministries, a ministry serving homeless and low income populations. They raised their three children in an immigrant neighborhood in inner city Denver and Michelle said they have no regrets about this. In fact, she wishes everyone could live the life she has lived. I once heard her share on a podcast about the nuanced lives her children have experienced because of where they live. They grew up speaking Spanish and have a desire to travel and learn about other cultures.

Michelle is the advocacy and policy engagement director for the Christian Community Development Association, an organization that empowers and equips leaders to serve in urban centers around the world. Dr. John Perkins began the CCDA with the vision of the “3 R’s”—relocation, reconciliation, redistribution, which has expanded now to 8 principles. Michelle works towards justice in the public sphere because she believes that “just because something is a law does not mean it serves the cause of justice. We need to enable the courts of law to rule in a manner that brings about justice for all the people” (118-119). She believes that as followers of Jesus, we are called to more than engaging in ministry from a distance.

We talked about what her children are doing now, and she shared about a couple “Michelle-isms” she tells her kids over and over again. “I remind my kids that they are the Light of the World and to not be afraid. When you see darkness run toward it with the Light.”

“I remind my kids that they are the Light of the World and to not be afraid. When you see darkness run toward it with the Light.” @mcfwarren

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She hopes her children bring light to every dark corner of the world. The other thing she always reminds them when they discuss their plans for the future is “Don’t forget the poor. Don’t forget the poor. Don’t forget the poor.”

Michelle said she wrote her book, The Power of Proximity, with Millennials in mind because they are so hungry to impact the world. In her book she writes that “learning of the pain of others can compel us to become proximate, which should move us to engage more deeply. The more we know as a result of our chosen proximity, the more we have the opportunity to put our words—our ‘talk’—into action … This shouldn’t be a big stretch for Christians who follow Jesus” (71). She hopes Millennials will choose to live proximate to the issues and people they talk about helping. She also writes that “privileged people will listen to privileged people. You have a voice,” and goes on to talk about Paul using his privilege as a Roman citizen and Pharisee to spread the gospel (120).

Michelle struggled with whether or not she should write this book because she was worried it might not be her story to tell. She feared hijacking the stories of immigrant neighbors and friends she’s lived among over the years. But her good friend, Daniel Hill, the author of White Awake, called her out and said something along the lines of “the most deceptive lies are the ones painted in nobility.”

Before writing the book, she asked a group of friends to gather and do something called a “clearing committee” or “clearness committee,” a Quaker spiritual practice of worship, sharing, and prayer, to help her discern her next step. Through this experience, she realized she was using fear and the fact that she is a white woman as an excuse not to do what she knew deep down God was calling her to do.

Michelle wrote her first draft of The Power of Proximity in just three months. She reserved every Friday to write, but also spent many evenings from 10 pm to midnight completing revisions and editing. She admitted most of the book came from the previous twenty years of teaching, talks and speeches that were so familiar to her that she simply needed to record them all in one place.

Her book had a profound impact on my life personally in that it influenced the neighborhood where we bought a house last summer. Though we are in a decent neighborhood of houses built in the 1970’s, we purposely chose to live here because of the more diversified racial and socioeconomic groups that live all around us compared to other places in our city. Her words moved me as she wrote “we should be willing to leave our communities of comfort to choose a proximate place and humbly and sacrificially follow Christ’s example of love” (71).

I handed her the copy of her book I brought with me so she could thumb through and see the notes and tons of underlines throughout the pages. As a soon-to-be author, I imagined it might feel good to see how your words impact others. She smiled as she looked through, laughing and saying “Oh, that’s good!” She flipped to the chapter on race because she said that was one of her favorites, then opened the cover and signed the book, “What a joy it is to connect with you on your journey! Keep the Faith, Michelle.”

As we finished up our time together, I asked Michelle where she sees herself in ten years. With a gleam in her eye, she said, “Probably in the Senate.” I congratulated myself on my inner prophet because on the way to meet Michelle, I had told my husband, “I feel like I’m going to meet up with a Senator or something.” I told her it was a sign that she should definitely do it.

I don’t think I’ve ever met such a powerful, confident, or connected woman in person and yet I was intrigued by her quirks (all she ate was three sausage links and marinara sauce mixed with parmesan cheese) and softness (she wore a ruffled floral shirt, denim shorts, and sandals). The fact that Michelle was willing to meet with me even though I have a relatively small platform and no political pull or influence was a testament to her humility (or at least to her Christian sense of duty to serve the lowly bloggers, writers and wannabe do-gooders of the world). Our meeting was one of the highlights of my summer.

The Power of Proximity is a buy-and-keep-on-your-shelf sort of book rather than a borrow-from-the-library-or-from-a-friend type of book. You will want to scribble stars, notes and excessive underlines throughout every page. Beware, though, her words may propel you to flee comfort, security, and safety in order to live out your life of love from a place of proximity.

Meeting Michelle Ferrigno Warren with my friend, Annie Rim

More about Michelle (from Amazon):

Michelle Ferrigno Warren is the advocacy and policy engagement director for the Christian Community Development Association. She is an immigration, education, and human service policy specialist and is an adjunct faculty member at Denver Seminary. With over twenty years experience working in Christian community development, Michelle is a part of the national Evangelical Immigration Table and helps consult for the National Immigration Forum. She is a founding staff member of Open Door Ministries, a large community development corporation. Michelle, her husband, David, and their three children live in an immigrant neighborhood in Denver, Colorado.

Follow Michelle on Twitter at @mcfwarren.

You can hear Michelle interviewed on these podcasts:

Brew Theology: Part 1 and Part 2

My Changing Faith Podcast

Seminary Dropout

Open Door Sisterhood

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BOOK GIVEAWAY

We’re giving away a FREE copy of Sarah Quezada’s book, Love Undocumented! To enter, visit either my Instagram post or Facebook post and tag up to four friends you think might be interested in her book. I’ll enter you once per friend that you tag. Giveaway will end Wednesday, August 29th, at midnight (MT). No bots and only U.S. residents, please!

 

 

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The theme for August is “Homelessness, Refugees & the Stranger.” Follow along on social media (links in upper right) to keep up with the latest posts or sign up for the newsletter below for links to the most recent blog posts, thought-provoking articles from the web, and a few of the things I’m into these days.

Sign up for the (occasional) Mid-month Digest and the (loosely) “end of the month” Secret Newsletter for Scraping Raisins Here:

 

*This post contains Amazon affiliate links

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Scenes from a Year of Refugee Co-Sponsorship {guest post}

By Katie Nordenson

By any traditional measure, I am a terrible candidate to lead a group dedicated to welcoming a refugee family to their new country—I’m a serious introvert, awkward in groups and new situations, a white Midwesterner with little to no real multicultural experience (I speak only English, just recently left the US for the first time, and was in college before I experienced many common ethnic foods, much less people.)

And yet, what I did have was determination and the fierce need to make something (anything) good happen in a world where good things felt increasingly scarce, and in particular the newly politicized plight of refugees spoke to me. By definition, refugees are innocents who have suffered and been forced from their homelands, and that’s before they face the agonizing wait to be admitted to a new country for resettlement (which may never come), at which point they must build a completely new life from scratch. To me, this is exactly who Jesus was talking about when he commanded us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

And so began a year (and counting) of leading the small group at our church committed to befriending and helping a Karen family of 10 (two parents and eight children ranging from ages 2-17) resettled from Burma in the spring of 2017. Through highs, lows, and general awkwardness, here are just a few of the memorable moments:

Finding the Minnesota Council of Church refugee co-sponsorship program while googling furiously for possible ways to help, emailing it to my pastor, and receiving an immediate, unequivocal “Go for it.”

Leaning heavily on the advice from our MCC liaison that “we can do hard things” and to “lean into the awkwardness.” Those words became a lifeline many, many times.

Showing up to introduce myself to a family full of strangers from an unknown culture (only one of whom spoke any English) and trying to find the strength to go inside, much less to lead a bunch of other people inside with me.

Visiting the family’s new apartment to see how they were settling in and being treated to a delicious multi-course Karen meal. Beginning to understand that the hospitality in this arrangement would flow both ways, and feeling moved that this family, who had been through so much, could open their hearts to some strange (and potentially meddlesome) Americans just trying to help however they could.

Seeing people from church step up in amazing ways to support this work, despite its strangeness and our lack of a roadmap; showing up to visit, donating items, and taking up a special offering that covered almost half of the family’s significant travel loan.

Watching the youngest children play on a hiking trail near a beautiful waterfall, and hearing how the foliage reminded them of their home.

Being regularly told by the father that, since he had so many children and we had none, he would happily give my husband and I one or two to take home to care for us in our old age (Note: we are currently in our thirties.)

Celebrating their first 4th of July with picnic food and water balloons (a big hit, as you can imagine, with the little kids.)

Explaining to the teenage son that you can’t fish, shoot squirrels with pellet guns, and start fires in the park here without drawing the attention of the police, even if that otherwise makes perfect sense to you based on life in your village and the refugee camp.

Listening to the parents talk about their hopes of someday returning to visit Burma, and being surprised to be invited to come along as their friends—this time they would show us the ropes.

Crying in the car about how very, very hard life in America can be—so confusing and full of paperwork and rules and resumes and schedules. Feeling helpless to do more to make the transition easier, yet inspired by their resiliency and the way they took care of their family under such difficult circumstances.

Watching the children (and the parents) discover the magic of the internet, especially Facebook and YouTube videos. WWE wrestler Goldberg is a big favorite of the mother—the father once told us “When she has no friends, Goldberg is her friend.”

Eating together at a Chinese buffet the father was so excited to share with us—so very American, and his treat!

Realizing that our role was never really to make day-to-day life in America easier, but rather to make them feel welcome and connected and hopeful for their new lives. (And maybe sometimes to help make phone calls to Comcast.)

I’m not sure I have any real wisdom to impart—it’s been messy and complicated and unexpected and wonderful, and I’m still learning as I go. But I do have a plea to remember the refugees still waiting all over the world; pray for them and advocate for them in conversations when others don’t understand who they are or what they’ve been through. Most of all, remember they too are your neighbors, and don’t be afraid to step outside of your comfort zone to invite them in.

About Katie:

Katie Nordenson is a web editor and content manager living in the Twin Cities with her husband and rescue dog. She spends her time reading, exploring her adopted city, and slowly learning to love and serve her neighbor. You can find her at her website or on Facebook or Linkedin.

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The theme for August is “Homelessness, Refugees & the Stranger,” so send me a post for if you have an idea. Email me at scrapingraisins @ gmail (dot) com if you are interested in guest posting. You can find submission guidelines here. Be sure to include a headshot and bio.

Be sure to follow on social media (links in upper right) to keep up with the latest posts or sign up for the newsletter below for links to thought-provoking articles, a digest of blog posts, and a few things I’m into these days. xo

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There Has to Be More Than This {guest post}

By Lisa Russell

There has to be more than this.

That’s what was ruminating in our hearts and conversations. In the perspective of our Christian culture, we had “arrived.” We were happily married, had started a family, had a dog and a house just shy of a white picket fence. We had a church community, were in Bible studies and serving in ministry. So why the holy discontentment?

Looking at our week, we were with our Christian friends in our Christian community doing Christian things nearly every night, yet we couldn’t shake the feeling that we were full … too full.

I call it Spiritual Gluttony.

We were filling up so much without an outlet for overflow, which left us lethargic, stagnant and, well … bloated.

There has to be more than this.

We started praying and the Lord quickly responded with a question: “If you had the perspective of being a missionary in your own town, how would your life look different?”

At the time, I was an event planner doing an event for a local non-profit raising funds for abused and neglected children in our community. When they put statistics up about children in our very own community, I broke. Our community? Our city in beautiful Colorado that has been on the top places in the country to live? We have the resources, and yet there are children who don’t have a safe haven.

I was shocked to see that there are children even suffering from malnourishment. These kids are in our own backyard–would we be willing to invite them in and care for them for a while? We were already the neighborhood hub for kids–most of whom didn’t have involved parents, who were starving for attention and a fruit snack from our pantry. What if we took it to another level and became foster parents?

Every step of the journey to become certified foster parents involved excitement, hope, fear, anxiousness and self-doubt. And yet every step felt like removing a brick from a dam, unleashing the flowing water built up over time.

The foster care training felt like church–learning how perfect love casts out all fear, actually being the hands and feet of Jesus, loving on the orphan, the “great commission.” Then, one day walking out of a grocery store, I got a call from our case worker. I thought she was calling to let us know our certification went through as we just finished our home study, but she called to ask if we would be willing to take a newborn baby boy just 16 days old. Two hours later, our first foster son entered into our home and immediately into our hearts.

You would have thought he came from my very own womb. I fell in love with this little bundle like he was my own. What I didn’t expect was to fall in love with his family.

There was even more than this.

Even more than taking in a foster child, was taking in a larger family: his aunt, who was emergency care after he was removed from the home, the grandma who was desperate to see her newborn grandson, the extended family that was concerned, and even the biological mom who was entangled with addiction.

Our eyes were opening to see the need in our community that was hidden by masks of prosperity. Driving into our city from the interstate, there was a new strip of trendy restaurants and shops systematically placed in front of a trailer park. We can’t have people seeing a trailer park when they enter into the #1 city to live.

Our eyes were also being opened to the unseen– the evil that claws its way through families by speaking lies of despair and hopelessness. Our hearts were being broken for these families that have had a name spoken over them that they believe to be true.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Our foster son’s grandma told me she is a pariah–an outcast in this society with little hope a door would be cracked open enough to get back in.

We tend to dehumanize these families. By no means am I giving a free pass or condoning their actions as perpetrators, but we gain no ground to healing and restoration if we don’t start seeing them and hearing their own stories. More often, these bio-parents are suffering from their own trauma, abuse, neglect, mental illness, poverty and injustice. I had a bio-mom tell me once that her mom was the one who taught her to shoot heroin. When that is your model and your norm, it’s more than difficult to cut the generational root of sin and addiction.

It’s a broken system because we are broken people living out generations of brokenness.

The longer we got into fostering, the more I heard and felt that the system is broken. I don’t know how we can have a healthy system with broken people on this side of heaven. The truth is, there are a lot of people who are just doing the best they can- from the caseworkers, to the bio families, to the foster parents and the children that suffer the consequences the most. I do know a good place to start is having eyes to see the humans in front of you, being willing to listen to their stories and have hope for them when they aren’t able to access it themselves.

I do know a good place to start is having eyes to see the humans in front of you, being willing to listen to their stories and have hope for them when they aren’t able to access it themselves.–Lisa Russell

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There is more than this.

There is more than this life–this futile effort to piece together the broken parts of people and our larger communities. It results in a painful glory, through the painful process of diving into the messy, stagnant waters, removing the bricks of the dam, the water will flow once again and produce life and fruit to the land. We have to hold tight to the “more than this” hope.

There is more than this.

About Lisa:

Lisa Russell and her family fostered for 5 years for Larimer County Child Protective Services. She is now focusing on Lisa Russell Ministries as a Counselor, Spiritual Mentor and Speaker.

 

GIVEAWAY OF FINDING HOME!

We’re doing a giveaway of the e-version of this book of essays by various writers about what it’s like to raise or be a Third Culture Kid (TCK). To enter, simply sign up for my newsletter AND Rachel’s newsletter before this Friday, May 26th, midnight (MT) and we’ll draw a name after that and email the winner!

 

 

 

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This month on Scraping Raisins, we’re talking about adoption, foster care and children. If you’re interested in guest posting about this theme, shoot me an email at scrapingraisins (dot) gmail (dot) com. The theme for June is “Create,” so you can also be thinking ahead for that. Be sure to check back or follow me on social media so you don’t miss the fabulous guest posters I have lined up this month!

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There Has to Be More Than This: On Foster Care {guest post}: "Our eyes were opening to see the need in our community that was hidden by masks of prosperity." #fostercare #nationalfostercaremonth #fostercareawareness #fosterparenting #fostermom #fostermother #fostersystem

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Weak is the “New” Strong {Guest Post}

By Nicole Woo

My best friend’s daughter hates her middle name. As a parent, how do you not take that one personally? After all, most of us spend about nine months contemplating, debating, and often agonizing over the matter. We sift through the millions of options, scrutinizing name meanings with a fine-toothed comb. We do the nickname test with first, middle, and last names to ensure survival through middle school, and then veto all options that remind us of mean people from childhood.

Some of us are so weighted down by this heavy responsibility that we are still deliberating on our drive to the hospital. (This happened to my grandparents, who succumbed to the stress by drawing names out of a hat. Thankfully, my uncle was named “George” instead of “Machine Washable.”) Somehow, we all arrive at the “perfect” name. Nailed it!

At least my friend thought so.

10 years later …

Daughter: “Ewe!!!! You named me after a ewe, as in ‘a female sheep’?” she recently lamented in tween dialect. So now she uses just her middle initial on official forms. Although it feels a bit to her parents like a slap in the face, I’m starting to see her point.

After all, the tide has turned in American culture. Who wants to be named after a female sheep when “strong” and “woman” may now proudly exist, side-by-side? This dynamic message is in plain view, everywhere: “Strong is the New Pretty” has replaced “Daddy’s Little Princess” on t-shirts, while Wonder Woman is smashing box office records. (Yeah, you get it.)

This “Strong Girl” movement is fascinating to observe. I sprouted up in the 80’s when playing football at recess and collecting GI Joe’s often earned me “weird girl” status. But now being strong, aggressive and independent is celebrated, embraced and even expected. Pop culture is riding this wave, so shouldn’t we too? It’s easy for me to get swept up in the excitement of it all, and what it might mean for this generation of girls. Lately, though, a few questions are nudging me to proceed with caution:

Is this celebrated version of “strong” the one that’s best for us to hear?

Is weakness really such a bad thing?

Are they mutually exclusive?

Last night I made a mental list of the strongest women I know personally. Honestly, I was pretty surprised at the names claiming the top spots.

My Strong “Girl” List:

• A mentor, in the throes of cancer, thanking God for the captive audience of clinicians who regularly drained fluid from her lungs: she boasted of His faithfulness and goodness at each appointment.

• A loved one, who rises each day resolved to forgive the man who blind-sided her, abruptly ending their long marriage.

• A friend, who recently endured the most complicated and high-risk pregnancy I’ve ever seen. Despite her pain, she selflessly and sleeplessly drags herself out of bed when her needy newborn cries.

Not the top three I imagined.

I thought it would include women like Jessie Graff, acclaimed Ninja Warrior and celebrated stunt double for Super Girl. (Disclaimer: I don’t really know her, but I did get my picture taken with her, so I’m counting it.) I recently saw Jessie complete a Ninja course on one leg, due to a knee injury. That was after she climbed a 40 foot rope, using mostly arm strength. No sweat.

But physical strength was not the defining trait I linked to “strong.” Nor were a slew of other qualities we often associate with the “Strong Girl” movement, like “confident,” “independent,” “leader,” “bold,” and “outspoken.” I am not editorializing these traits; in fact the women on my list have many of them. Rather, it was their entanglement with weakness – their faceoff with uninvited adversity – that spelled STRONG to me. It was their weakness that gave birth to strength.

I’m imagining it now: A rack of sparkling t-shirts at Target proudly proclaiming, “Weak is the NEW Strong.” I know. It’s not like we would just veer our carts over and grab one for those special girls in our lives, right?
(It’s funny how the truth is so often counterintuitive.)

These portraits of weakness, strength, and adversity reminded me of someone else’s. Maybe this “New Strong” is not so new.

The Apostle Paul’s first century resume included blindness, shipwrecks, beatings, imprisonments, and a slew of other undesirable hardships. I’m not an expert in ancient rhetorical criticism, but I think Plato would agree with me that you’d want to hide these red flags for credibility’s sake. But this man, in his relentless pursuit of Christ, did just the opposite. In one letter, we find him celebrating debilitation:

“… I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” –2 Corinthians 12:10

Forget personal image and self-promotion. Strength yielded from weakness was Paul’s M.O. throughout his tumultuous life. (We see this repeatedly in his other letters.) The result: A flame, igniting a radical message – a new way of living – that still burns today.

This ancient antithesis didn’t just start with Paul. It’s a marvelous and mysterious undercurrent throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. We find it running through the stories of people like Ruth, David, Joseph, Rahab, Ester, and Daniel.

This theme flows through the New Testament, too, with no one embodying it more than Christ Himself. Here we find the power Source, and it’s not from ourselves. Paul unabashedly names it in the midst of his own oppressing frailties:

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” –2 Corinthians 12:8-9

Christ’s power. This is the catalyst that sweeps us beyond “the triumph of the human spirit” as we lock horns with adversity. I’ll freely admit: this is a mystery I’ve experienced, but still can’t understand. This is the same power I see carrying the strongest women in my life. It’s the power I want my friend’s daughter to see and embrace as she witness Christ’s strength in others, and discovers it in the inevitable hardships she will face herself. Because someday her own strength will not be enough, and she’ll be stuck on a 40 foot rope that she cannot possibly climb.

Do I want to see a generation of strong daughters?

Absolutely.

But the Source of strength we can point them to eclipses anything a t-shirt or even a movement can offer: When it begins with weakness, it can end extraordinarily with Christ’s power. It’s then that we, and our beloved daughters, are truly strong.

When it begins with weakness, it can end extraordinarily with Christ’s power. It’s then that we, and our beloved daughters, are truly strong.

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Maybe even strong enough to embrace a middle name.

As Christ followers,

How can we underscore this message of “strength in weakness” to the girls and women in our lives?

Can we inject this truth into conversations within the “Strong Girl/Strong Woman” movement? What would that look like?

About Nicole:

Despite a deep desire to belong, Nicole Woo often finds life nudging her to the margins. She’s been the only girl on the team, the only public speaking teacher afraid of public speaking, the only Caucasian in the extended family photo, and the only mom who lets her kids drink Fanta. She calls the Rockies home, often pretending to be a Colorado native in spite of her flatland origins.

GIVEAWAY:

A Book Review of A VOICE BECOMING {plus, A GIVEAWAY!} If you share my last post and tag me in it on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter, I’ll enter you to win either a copy of A Voice Becoming (see my review here) or the first edition of a fantastic new magazine for girls called Bravery. The giveaway will end on January 31, 2018. Sorry, I can only mail to U.S. residents!

 

 

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State of the Blog (and some exciting changes)

State of the Blog (and some exciting changes). Blogging, writing, newsletters, monthly themes, guest posters and living for Jesus.

Maybe you’re interested in social justice.

Or perhaps you’re a mom desperate to find meaning in the monotony.

Maybe life hasn’t gone as planned—God detoured your life and you are far from where you thought you’d be.

Or you’re a missionary limping from years of living overseas, trying to find your footing again as you integrate back into your home country.

Or maybe you’re a new writer, petrified, but electrified by the prospect of unleashing your words into the world.

Whoever you are, I’m honored you’re here—either by accident or by intention, my words are in your inbox, in your hands, or in front of your eyes–and I’m humbled.

I started this blog because I had some things to say about reentry, motherhood, race, writing, and living out a life of faith in practical ways. I didn’t think about “platform,” “SEO,” “branding” or “monetizing my blog.” In fact, I started it in 2012, wrote four posts, and only told my husband. But when I dusted it off and began writing again in 2015, writing felt like standing nude and exposed in a crowd. It was terrifying–and exhilarating.

I hoped for heads nodding and whispers of “yes, yes” as you read. Many of you have reached out via email, comments on the blog or on social media and let me know I wasn’t alone.

Thank you.

Some of you are new here and thinking, “So, if she doesn’t have a “brand,” then what is Scraping Raisins about?”

Good question.

What is the purpose of this blog?

If I were to distill this blog down to a single message, it would be this: How does Jesus impact our everyday lives?

If I were to distill this blog down to a single message, it would be this: How does Jesus impact our everyday lives?

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And specifically:

How does Jesus sway me and you to swing to the rhythm of the Holy Spirit when culture pushes us a different direction?

How does Jesus model love and inspire us to serve family, friends, neighbors, strangers and even enemies?

How does Jesus teach us to create, live inspired lives, fight injustice, and see the sacred in the small?

And how does this all play out when it comes to our roles as mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, employees, neighbors, creators, citizens and thoughtful human beings?

You know, all the easy questions in life;-)

If these questions boil in your veins, too, then we’re sharing the right space on the internet. I look forward to learning, growing and being inspired together in 2018. Here are a few of the exciting changes I’m making this year.

Changes in Email & Blog Post Frequency

This will be the last post to come directly to your email inbox if you subscribe to my blog. I’ve decided to move to a mid-month digest and end-of-month newsletter where I’ll share what I’ve been reading, listening to and some things that are working for me. I’ll also tell about some opportunities to win free books and audio books, which will be exclusive to my newsletter subscribers. If you haven’t yet, be sure and sign up for my newsletter here if you want access to the secret content and perks of being a subscriber.

Why cut down on the frequency of emails?

I want to cultivate a relationship with you and I feel less, but more personal, email interaction will help this. I also want to write more posts without feeling embarrassed that you’re getting bombarded with multiple emails from me each week. 🙂

If you’re still interested in reading each post, then be sure and follow me on my social media channels, as I’ll be sharing posts on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Otherwise, you can wait and catch up on reading posts all at once, as I’ll link to posts in the newsletters.

Changes in Content (sort of)

As a planner, I find I do better when I have a theme to write about. Because of this, I’ve chosen monthly themes to center my posts around. I may write an occasional post that is off-theme, but for the most part, the month will involve essays, interviews, guest posts, list posts, and how-to’s revolving around the monthly themes, which I’ll share at the bottom of this post.

Another big change is that I want to open up the blog to invite guest writers each month, so if you’d like to contribute, visit the “Write for Me” tab at the top of the blog (coming soon) and email me a thoughtful post or idea. I love hearing from other voices and providing a platform for new writers to share. I want to make room in my small corner of the internet for you to send your words out into the world. Welcome.

I also plan to include monthly interviews with men and women who inspire us to buck cultural norms and live Jesus-centered lives. I have several friends I want to introduce you to in the coming months.

And though I’m still resistant to having ads on my site, I’ll be pursuing affiliate partnerships with a few companies I love and don’t mind supporting in order to pay for the operational costs involved in running this site and keeping my content free for you as the reader.

So without further ado, here are the themes for this year …

2018 Themes for Scraping Raisins

 

Scraping Raisins Blog Themes

 

Sign up for the secret newsletter and/or follow me on social media to join in learning how Jesus wants to empower us wherever we are to be transformers, wonder-catchers, and seekers of the sacred in the ordinary this year.

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