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A Simple, Soulful Practice for Making Life Decisions: Review of The Next Right Thing

Author Emily P. Freeman is not only a podcaster and business woman, but a modern-day contemplative who shepherds readers into inner peace as she provides practical, reflective solutions for making decisions. The Next Right Thing: A Simple, Soulful Practice for Making Life Decisions is a book for the uncertain, the undecided, or the anxious. It is both practical and reflective, grounded and imaginative. Freeman confronts decision fatigue and provides the reader with ideas on untying the knots that bind and prevent us from moving forward. Freeman expertly guides readers into more freedom, peace, and confidence.

I wish I had read this book between 1996 and 2006, when I was making decisions about college, my major, dating, and whether or not to move overseas. But even now that I am a forty-year old married woman with degrees and kids, The Next Right Thing reminded me to live life on purpose, pay attention, and filter my seemingly unimportant decisions through a simple sieve: Is this life-draining or life-giving?

Freeman begins each chapter with an inspirational quote from another author, but largely shares her own reflections on decision making in twenty-four compact chapters. So many authors flood their books with quotes from others, not trusting their own words, but rather than borrow from others, Freeman contributes her own wisdom to the world. Freeman concludes each chapter with a prayer and a spiritual practice, reminiscent of what a spiritual director might prescribe. Rather than reading straight through quickly, this book lends itself to being read slowly and thoughtfully, perhaps reading a chapter a day or even one a week.

If you struggle with making decisions, or simply need a book to remind you to pay attention and do some soul work, then this book is for you. Reading The Next Right Thing felt like opening a window and welcoming a breeze into a musty room.

EMILY P. FREEMAN is the author of Simply Tuesday and A Million Little Ways. As host of The Next Right Thing podcast, she helps create space for the soul to breathe, offering fresh perspective on the sacredness of our inner life with God. Emily and her husband live in North Carolina with their three children.

**Currently on Amazon for $8.92;-)

I’m giving away a copy of The Next Right Thing, so head over to my Instagram post. To enter, simply like the post, follow me, and then sign up for my newsletter in my profile (and I’ll send you the first chapter of MY book!!!). If you’re already a newsletter subscriber, then tag up to four friends you think might enjoy this book and you’ll receive one entry per friend that you tag (no tag backs, please!). Giveaway ends Monday (6/24/19) at midnight (MT). This is not sponsored by or affiliated with Instagram.

Sign up for the monthly-ish newsletter and I’ll send you the first chapter of my book!

My new book Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness is now available for pre-order! You can read about the book as well as some of the advance praise for the book by visiting this page. Sign up for my newsletter above to keep up-to-date on pre-order bonuses, book recommendations, and more!

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Reimagining Neighborhoods with Tim Soerens and Paul Sparks

Many of us are disconnected, lonely, and isolated even though we’re surrounded by neighbors, strangers, and living, breathing human beings all around us. My husband and I recently attended a meeting in Denver called “Reimagining Neighborhoods” where Tim Soerens and Paul Sparks, in partnership with the Navigators, discussed this issue. As the writers of the book The New Parish and founders of The Parish Collective , they challenged us to seek community right where we live.

The evening opened with a short film about neighboring well; then several individuals shared tales of intentionally pursuing relationships with people outside their immediate comfort zones. One man told of seeking out his “third place” (besides work and home) where he has developed relationships over time by frequenting a Thai restaurant.

Another woman mentioned that her dogs help her make connections, but also shared how their neighbors enjoy a fantasy football league, a fire pit-in-the-driveway tradition on Halloween, and use Facebook to promote neighborhood gatherings. Another described their neighborhood as “a place where I belong” and someone else said “cultivating a life in common” was of utmost value to them. The speakers shared about other friend’s involvement in farmers markets, coffeehouses, garage sales, community gardens, and giving away popsicles, dessert, or meals in the local park.

After these individuals shared about their experiences with opening their homes and intentionally seeking community among their neighbors, Tim Soerens began his talk with a quote from William Blake: “We become what we behold.” He described our small, faithful actions of simply showing up in our relationships with the people around us. He talked about healing democracy not by starting from the top, but from the bottom—in our homes, workplaces, neighborhoods and cities. Soerens said, “all the systems that shape us—we’re also called to shape them as well.”

Paul Sparks said we know the gospel has broken through and shalom has prevailed when the world can look at Christians and be struck by our love for one another. He quoted Manuel Castells, who talks about the “space of flows,” where people often miss one another in a life of busyness and movement. Sparks has visited many communities where people are experimenting with good news, and when he visits, he often looks for ways the community is solving conflicts and diving deeper into humility and grace for one another. He concluded by saying that this commitment to learning how we belong to one another isn’t rocket science, but it does take commitment, presence, and a miracle, because “turning to face one another takes divine grace.”

During our short discussion time at the end, one woman pointed out that this all seems so obvious, and yet in our culture of disconnection, individualism, and independence, we almost need to re-learn how to be humans with one another.

Finding connection right where we are is both the easiest and most difficult way to cultivate community. It requires intentionality, availability, and humility. And yet I believe there’s a movement of God to stop leaving “ministry” and movements to clergy and missionaries, and remind us we are already standing on holy ground—even if that ground is our rock-covered lawns (like in Colorado where I live), our third floor apartment buildings, or our ranch in the country. God wants us to notice the people right around us—look them in the eye, speak to them, and remember that we—and they–are not alone after all. When we begin to reimagine our neighborhoods, we begin to reimagine God’s vision for a connected kingdom.

Resources:

Parish Collective: You can learn more about Parish Collective here. Parish Collective identifies, connects, and resources followers of Jesus that desire to grow the fabric of love and care in, with, and for the neighborhood.

Book List: Their website also links to a fabulous list of books relating to developing community, relationships, and neighboring well.

The New Parish Book: Check out the book The New Parish: How Neighborhood Churches are Transforming Mission, Discipleship, and Community, by Paul Sparks, Tim Soerens, and Dwight J. Friesen (IVP). About the book: “Paul Sparks, Tim Soerens and Dwight J. Friesen have seen in cities, suburbs and small towns all over North America how powerful the gospel can be when it takes root in the context of a place, at the intersection of geography, demography, economy and culture.” (Amazon)

Prayer Walk Guide: The Navigators offered a brochure to do a prayer walk in your neighborhood. I couldn’t find that one online, but I did find this neighborhood prayer walk guide that also incorporates observation and accommodations for different seasons of the church calendar.

Sign up for the monthly-ish newsletter and I’ll send you a free list of hospitality resources!

My new book Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness is now available for pre-order! You can read about the book as well as some of the advance praise for the book by visiting this page. Sign up for my newsletter above to keep up-to-date on pre-order bonuses, launch team, book recommendations, and more! The LAUNCH TEAM is open until Thursday, June 13th. You can sign up here.

Photo by Clayton Cardinalli on Unsplash

*This post includes Amazon affiliate links

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The Promise of And in an Either-Or World Book Review of Surprised by Paradox

Surprised by Paradox: The Promise of And in an Either-Or World is an invitation to probe into the mysteries of faith in Jesus. If you’re looking for an ambitious book written by a wise woman, this book is for you. Michel’s writing is sharp, intelligent, and sincere. She doesn’t pull punches, but she does offer plenty of glimpses into her own humanity and struggles. Within her biblical exegesis, Michel quotes from theologians, philosophers, and historians such as Willard, Tertullian, Spurgeon, Tozer, Rutledge, Bonhoeffer, Chesterton, Athanasius, and Wright. Far from fluffy, this book is engaging, intellectual, and meaty. Michel gives literary legs to abstract ideas.

Divided into four major sections–incarnation, kingdom, grace, and lament–with questions for discussion and reflection at the end of each section, Michel confronts a quandary in each chapter that people often pose in the Christian faith. She considers questions such as: Should we live for heaven or live for earth? Should we be sacrificing more or enjoying more? How should Christians engage with politics? How is grace different from leniency? What’s the role of lament in the life of the Christian? What about suffering? In the introduction Michel says, “This is a book about faith in its lived-in condition—as it abides complexity rather than resists it.” The promise of “And” in an “Either-Or World.”

Michel is candid about her sexual struggles as a teenager and the tragic death of her brother. She also confronts many questions about politics, race, and some of the other divides that plague our churches. Michel acknowledges the elephant(s) in the room and urges us to describe our view. Surprised by Paradox invites us back into conversations with one another. Michel is a high-stakes writer who bravely peels back the curtains we use to guard ourselves and seems to say, “I’ll go first.”

This was the first book I read by Jen Pollock Michel. It’s hard to believe she has written three books in five years, because this one is so chockful of golden nuggets, I wonder how she had so many left over after writing the last two books. My one regret in reading is that I read it too swiftly. This book is best savored, sifted, and ruminated upon. It would make a fabulous book to discuss with a spouse, friend, or small group.

Michel ends her epilogue with an invitation to wonder. She writes, “let us have certainty when it’s available, let us have humility when it’s not.” This statement is the crux of her entire book, an invitation to ask the hard questions and welcome wonder and mystery to fill in the cracks when we can’t arrive at easy answers.

***

You can buy Surprised by Paradox here. (If you read it, be sure to write a review on Amazon–this helps readers find good books!)

This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

My new book Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness is now available for pre-order! You can read about the book as well as some of the advance praise for the book by visiting this page.

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Last Place in the Human Race {guest post}

By Nichole Woo | Website: www.walkthenarrows.com

I’m too slow for my life.

I reached this epiphany recently at stoplight, as I rolled my toothpaste-blue minivan up next to a red-hot Ferrari. It was a contrast too comical to ignore. So, I rolled down the window:

“Wanna race?” I teased, from my towering, sixteen-cup holder perch. The driver smirked and revved his engine. He left me in the dust, but not without a new metaphor to ponder.

Like it or not, we’re all part of this human race.

Within moments of a “positive” on a home pregnancy test (provided aim is good), we’re involuntarily and irrevocably nudged off the starting blocks. A barrage of benchmarks accost our lives in utero: Movements are measured, heartbeats counted, and that’s all before labor (which is often too early or late).

We welcome our beloveds with a kiss and an Apgar score, with many metrics to follow. Blink and these scores evolve into ABC competency, “unofficial” Pre-K soccer goals (that are counted anyways), ACT/SAT results, college acceptance letters, suitable relationships and bank accounts balances.

For better or worse these metrics are constant companions, pushing us through life at breakneck speeds. We pity those who straggle behind, but press on towards an ever-allusive finish line so we can win . . . we’re not sure exactly what. We fear that if we slow down, we’ll surely be lapped by something or someone; which means, we all just keep going in circles.

Years of pounding this course have frayed the fabric of my soul. I’m always winded and perpetually losing pace. It’s no wonder:

I’m the minivan, not the Ferrari.

Why am I pushing so hard to check the next box, when it’s always followed by another? Are these metrics, escorting every lap of life, a proper plum line? I must finish the race; but who says I should break the tape at world record pace?

Perhaps there is time to roll down the window, and just pause.

When I pause, I see things both heart-breaking and beautiful. I see glimpses of humanity as the dust clears: Some sprint by while others limp; a few can only crawl. There are others slowing too – Samaritans quietly crossing over to help some who stumble, and others stranded on the ground. They’ve tossed conventional measuring sticks, falling behind to usher others ahead.

I see a father put down his phone, to look up at his child. I hear the single mom’s “yes” to the caseworker asking her to welcome a second child. I glimpse the teacher, lingering long enough after the bell to gift his struggling student with a kind word. I catch the customer, pausing just long enough to meet the cashier’s eyes and smile.
They pause, as He did from the beginning:

When He saw what He made was good, and again to seek the pair who ushered in its corruption. He perceived Sarah’s pain, Hagar’s rejection, and David’s unborn frame. Then with human eyes He paused, and peered beyond earthly flesh: In the crooked tax collector, the unclean cloak-toucher, and the wayward woman at the well. He paused for imperfect humanity, again and again, to usher in divine glory.

This is the paradoxical beauty of falling behind.

To decelerate in this life seems like sacrilege. Surely, we’ll be lapped – passed up, passed by, or passed over. But to pause is to shadow the God who sees * the souls around Him and declares, “the last will be first, and first will be last.” **

I’m too slow for my life. Now, I’m thinking about driving even slower. Because whenever I wait for the dust to clear, I see that “human” matters infinitely more than “race.” In the pauses I remember: It’s not about when I finish, but who finishes with me.

*Genesis 16:13 (NIV)
**Matthew 20:16 (NIV)

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Despite a deep desire to belong, Nichole 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. Visit her blog at www.walkthenarrows.com.

Sign up for the monthly-ish newsletter and I’ll send you a free list of hospitality resources!

My new book Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness is now available for pre-order! You can read about the book as well as some of the advance praise for the book by visiting this page. Sign up for my newletter above to keep up-to-date on pre-order bonuses, launch team, book recommendations, and more!

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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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Rethinking Dinner, Worship, and the Community of God~Review of We Will Feast by Kendall Vanderslice

“How do we bond despite our differences? We do so when we grasp and share the most basic need of all humanity: the need to eat and drink,” Kendall Vanderslice writes in her book that released last week (p. 157). I first heard Vanderslice share a lecture on a L’Abri podcast called A Sacred Story of Meals. So when I heard she was writing a book, I was eager to read it because I knew it would be smart, relatable, and inspiring. I was right.

We Will Feast: Rethinking Dinner, Worship, and the Community of God summarizes itself in the title. It’s about food, gathering as followers of God, and how a bit of creativity can reorient us toward one another. The book is organized around Vanderslice’s experiences at several different dinner churches around the United States—from New York City to California, Michigan to Texas, among others—that she visited over the course of one year. Far from a simple summary of those experiences, she draws us into meals together around tables, in gardens, pubs, or at potlucks, allowing us to imagine a different kind of life together.

She weaves her expertise as a baker into each tale, expanding on communion, feasting, and the theology that connects us to one another. She writes that “worship around the table is a communal search for every glimmer of goodness in an aching world” (p. 167). This book offers that glimmer of goodness, granting a glimpse into other peoples’ windows of experience that may differ from our own.

If you’re looking for a hopeful book about church, this book for you. If you’re looking for a book that breaks open the boxes we squeeze God, the church, and worship into, this book is for you. And if you need refreshment, encouragement, or affirmation that community can still be found within the church, then this book is definitely for you. This book will make you hungry for steaming bread and savory soup, but especially for deep connection and intentional community. It will remind you that when we gather, we experience just a bit more of God’s presence in our midst.

Sign up for my monthly(ish) newsletter and I’ll send you a list of hospitality resources for uncertain hosts (as well as book/article/podcast recommendations).

My book Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness is available for pre-order!

*This post includes Amazon affiliate links. I received a copy of We Will Feast from Eerdmans for review. All opinions are my own.

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Infertility, Envy, & an Unexpected Ending {guest post}

By Suzanna Price | Instagram: @suzanna.price

I dreamed of having a family ever since I was a little girl, playing with Cabbage patch kids and running through the schoolyard with my sister. And I always assumed I’d have no trouble starting a family.

I married at age 23, bursting with newlywed joy over the man I’d met on a blind date. Over the next nine years, I watched my friends have babies, went to baby showers out of obligation, and finally was able to name the uneasy envy I was feeling. Wayne and I were trying to get pregnant too, with no success.

We hated hearing about anyone’s pregnancy announcement. I began to feel bitter and I hated that too. I’d been battling epilepsy since the year we were married, and I felt like the infertility was salt in a wound. Why me? Why one more burden? Why so easy for all my friends and seemingly impossible for us? My spirit was unsettled; I prayed in anger and hope at the same time.

As in so many areas of life, the Lord was calling me to step up, out of my comfort zone. There’s always adoption. But I rejected that thought; that’s something other people do; I was surely not cut out for that.

But reality was setting in: the fertility treatment wasn’t working, and the burning desire for a baby wouldn’t subside. The idea I’d been trying to squash kept popping up: What would it look like to adopt? Over many tears and gentle urging from Wayne, I finally said yes.

With the help of a Christian adoption agency, we learned the legal process and worked our way through each overwhelming step. We created a book about ourselves, an open door for a birth mom to choose us. It felt odd, like advertising ourselves. We were told it would be a two year process, an unappealing thought when we were so ready now! So we were thrilled to be chosen within two months, and it seemed like a great match.

The birth mom knew she was having a girl, so we prepared the baby’s room and were flooded with gifts and baby décor from eager friends.

I was swelling with anticipation, an excitement I hadn’t felt in years. Then two weeks before the due date, my bubble was burst.  Our adoption agent called to tell me the birth mom had changed her mind. I felt it physically first, as the wind was knocked out of me and I sank to my knees. I gasped for air and cried so hard I couldn’t speak. Those tears would go on for days.

We knew adoption came with this risk. Even after you take the baby home, there’s a window of time where the birth mom can reverse her decision. But nothing can prepare you for that.

Now I was swelling with anger, not happiness. My spirit was crushed thinking about going back to square one. We closed the door of the baby room and took a weekend in the Colorado mountains to regroup. Day after day, I cried to God and prayed for the right birth mom; I absolutely couldn’t deal with another one who changed her mind. The thought made my stomach churn. The Lord was nudging me gently and I knew He wanted me to forgive. It was the most un-natural desire at that time, so I kept praying through it.

And the roller coaster continued. About a month later, we got a call. A birth mom was in the hospital with her newborn, in crisis, realizing she had no realistic way to support her baby. She’d thought about it off and on throughout her pregnancy, we later learned, and now we were the chosen parents.

We scrambled together what we needed to take home our baby girl, 48 hours old. We didn’t even have a car seat, so we borrowed one. I opened the door of the nursery, trembling with the fear of another rejection.

Not this time, though. The birth mom signed papers to expedite the legal process. That little girl was ours and my joy was overflowing. It was another incredible mixture of emotions, and extremely humbling to think about the tough choice that young woman made.

My daughter Rachel is 7 now. There is no way to describe the joy she has brought us. I cannot fathom any other child being ours. People tell me she looks like me, and I just smile and think, the Lord had this covered. We do stay in touch with her birth mom and visit sporadically. We explained to Rachel very early that she was adopted, that her birth mom wanted the best life possible for her. That satisfies her curiosity now, and as she matures we’ll keep talking through it.

I have seen much evidence of the Lord’s “beauty from ashes” promise over the years, but perhaps none as powerful as our adoption experience. I would go through it all again for the joy of finally becoming a mom.

About Suzanna:

Suzanna Price is a Colorado mom who loves Jesus and anything outdoors. She has a wonderful husband she met on a blind date, and they have walked together through many ups and downs including her battling years of seizures and the brain surgery that cured them. They have a seven-year-old daughter who loves reading, playing outside and camping. Follow Suzanna at her blog, on Facebook, and on Instagram.

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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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Tools for Writers and Bloggers

Since I began writing online several years ago, I’ve discovered many tools along the way that I use daily, weekly, or monthly to share content on my blog and on social media. As a former teacher, I’m a huge believer in not reinventing the wheel, so if you, too, are a writer, I hope you can save yourself some time, money and effort by using this list. Feel free share other ideas in the comments!

Websites

Be Funky Collage Maker

I use this when I want to feature several different books and need to include them all on the cover. You can I see examples in this post on race resources and this one on book recommendations (for the Pinterest image on this one I also used Canva–see below).

Canva

I mainly go to Canva to create Pinterest images. If you’re new to blogging or writing online, then you may not know that your Pinterest images should all be oriented as portrait, not landscape. Canva can also be used to create images with text for any type of social media.

Facebook Debugger

When Facebook is not showing the correct image for my blog or if it’s not showing any image at all, this site will help reset it so it will display the correct image (I have NO IDEA what “debugging” means, I just know it works!)

Google URL Shortener

When links are too long to include on Twitter, this will make your link a more reasonable length. For example, Amazon links are incredibly long, so when I want to share about a book, I usually shorten the link before posting it.

Pixabay

This is a great site for free images where you won’t have to worry about impinging on copyright laws.

Power Thesaurus

I use this a ton when I’m writing. I think it offers more options than just using thesaurus.com.

Unsplash

I prefer this to Pixabay mainly because I think the images are a bit more artistic, but it tends to have more upright (portrait) images, which is good for Pinterest but not best to use for blog images.

Programs & Apps

Editpad Lite

This free little program strips away formatting before you copy and paste text to use on your website, in emails, or social media posts. I use it daily.

Mailchimp

I started a newsletter list in 2018 using Mailchimp and I think it’s been a great tool for connecting with readers. It’s free up to the first 2,000 subscribers (which I am far from hitting, so this is not an issue for me).

Scrivener ($45 one time fee)

I wrote my book using Scrivener last year and LOVED it. You can easily move between Word and Scrivener. The advantage is that you can see your whole book at once and move pieces around like a puzzle. As a visual person, that was super helpful as I wrote.

Voxer (app)

Though this seems to be unrelated to writing and blogging, I have connected with many writers using Voxer. Most people don’t have the time to sit down and email you, but they are usually more than willing to leave you a five minute message about their writing process, tools they use, or to share their expertise.

WordPress

I started my blog with a free site in Blogger and wish I had started it in WordPress so it would have been easier to transfer over when I started paying for my site. It’s been fairly intuitive and I haven’t had any issues in the three years I’ve used it.


Which websites and programs make your life easier as a writer? Let me know in the comments! For more writing resources, check out this list of books on writing and podcasts for writers.

Sign up for my monthly(ish) newsletter here and I’ll send you a list of hospitality resources for uncertain hosts!

Online tools (websites, programs and apps) for writers and bloggers. #writingcommunity #writinglife #bloggers #blogger #wordpress #writingtools #writingsites

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