Tag: church

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Women, Gifted to Lead ~ A Reading List

The books and websites on this list were recommended to me by women and men I respect. I haven’t read everything (yet!), but I’ve been working my way through the list. I’ve put an asterisk next to the ones I’ve read so far and recommend.

I’m grateful for these words, explanations, illustrations, and Scripture commentaries that are helping to articulate what I already believed in my bones to be true:

God gifts women to serve at every level of church leadership. A church that doesn’t urge women to use their God-given gifts is anemic, unhealthy, and missing out on a full-bodied church experience. History and patriarchy have perpetuated this enormous loss for both women and men in the church and society. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Not anymore.

Here are some books that will open your eyes to the faulty ways the church goes about reading, interpreting, and teaching the Bible, especially as it pertains to women:

*The Blue Parakeet by Scot McKnight

Discovering Biblical Equality: Biblical, Theological, Cultural, and Practical Perspectives by Christa L. McKirland (Associate Editor) Ronald W. Pierce (Editor) Cynthia Long Westfall (Editor)


*Emboldened: A Vision for Empowering Women in Ministry by Tara Beth Leach


The Equality Workbook: Freedom in Christ from the Oppression of Patriarchy by Helga and Bob Evans

Finally Feminist: A Pragmatic Christian Understanding of Gender by John G. Stackhouse, Jr.

*Gender Roles and the People of God: Rethinking What We Were Taught about Men and Women in the Church by Alice Matthews


*Half the Church: Recapturing God’s Global Vision for Women by Carolyn Custis James

Icons of Christ: A Biblical and Systematic Theology for Women’s Ordination by William Witt

***The Making of Biblical Womanhood: How the Subjugation of Women Became Gospel Truth by Beth Allison Barr

Malestrom: Manhood Swept Into the Currents of a Changing World by Carolyn Custis James

The Ministry of Women in the New Testament: Reclaiming the Biblical Vision for Church Leadership by Dorothy Lee

Ordaining Women by B.T. Roberts

Paul and Gender: Reclaiming the Apostle’s Vision for Men and Women in Christ by Cynthia Westfall

Paul, Women, & Wives: Marriage and Women’s Ministry in the Letters of Paul by Craig S. Keener

Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians by Kenneth E. Bailey

Reclaiming Eve: The Identity and Calling of Women in the Kingdom of God by Suzanne Burden

*Recovering from Biblical Manhood and Womanhood: How the Church Needs to Rediscover Her Purpose by Aimee Byrd

*Rediscovering Scripture’s Vision for Women: Fresh Perspectives on Disputed Texts by Lucy Peppiatt

Slaves, Women Homosexuals: Exploring the Hermeneutics of Cultural Analysis by William J. Webb

Womanist Midrash by Dr. Wilda C. Gafney

A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church: Year A by Dr. Wilda C. Gafney


The Women’s Lectionary by Ashley M. Wilcox

Others:

*Beyond Sex Roles by Gilbert Bilezikian

Great Women of the Christian Faith by Edith Deen

How I Changed My Mind about Women in Leadership: Compelling Stories from Prominent Evangelicals by Alan F. Johnson (Editor)

Junia is Not Alone by Scot McKnight

Women in a Patriarchal World by Elaine Storkey

Online Resources:

Marg Mowczko–a website exploring the biblical theology of Christian egalitarianism.

The Junia Project–provides support, encouragement, and biblically-based resources to help women thrive in all areas of life.

CBE International–Proclaiming God’s design for equal partnership between men and women.

“One in Christ: A Week of Mutuality,” a blog series by Rachel Held Evans dedicated to discussing an egalitarian view of gender—including relevant biblical texts and practical applications. The goal is to show how scripture, tradition, reason, and experience all support a posture of equality toward women, one that favors mutuality rather than hierarchy, in the home, Church, and society.

This post includes affiliate links for Bookshop, an online bookstore with a mission to financially support local, independent bookstores.

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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.

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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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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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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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The Empathy Deficit in the White Church {guest post}

By Katie Carper | Instagram: @katecarper

Trayvon Martin. Michael Brown. Rekia Boyd. Tamir Rice. Freddie Gray. Mya Hall. Stephon Clark. Botham Shem Jean. Aiyena Stanley-Jones. EJ Bradford. Jemel Roberson. Charleena Lyles.

Black bodies. Seemingly disposable. Their humanity buried far below the fair treatment of white bodies who survive their police encounters.

White boys and men load lethal weapons, enter churches and synagogues and schools, and walk out with blood on their hands. But it’s not their blood. And they still walk.

These gross injustices and tragic losses speak to the ongoing fear, mistrust, and disregard for non-white bodies and the preservation of white bodies in America. Each story is a painful example of the racial bias and systemic racism that both built and plagues this country.

Some days I wonder if I’m reading satire. Teenage me would ask, “Is this for real?”

In 1965, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “A man dies when he refuses to stand up for that which is right. A man dies when he refuses to stand up for justice. A man dies when he refuses to take a stand for that which is true.”

If these words have merit, death seems imminent some days for American humanity. We’ll choke on the white *Christian* moderate response that says, “Be bothered by racial injustice but not too bothered. Don’t speak up or you might offend or taint your reputation. Play it safe. Don’t get too political.”

There are many who continue to travel the history of our country, slavery, police brutality, Jim Crow, Civil Rights, and peaceful protests wearing only white shoes. Historical facts on racism and white supremacy are distorted, covered, or ignored by many white conservative evangelicals. As a follower of The Way trying to navigate our country’s racial landscape, I am deeply troubled by the white *Christian* silence, skepticism, and defense over the loss of Black and Brown lives.

Many of us in the white *Christian* culture have an empathy-deficit in matters of racial justice. We’ll pay thousands of dollars to cross the ocean for 10 days with our church groups and take selfies with poor black kids who don’t speak English. We’ll sponsor brown kids all over the globe in the name of generosity. We’ll devote our Sunday morning platforms to hear white voices share of their cross-cultural trips to serve people of color. We’ll host African children’s choirs in our places of worship and call that ‘diversity Sunday.’ And then we’ll pat our white shoulders for doing all that good work.

But include people of color in our white spaces and build friendships? Elevate the voices of our black and brown brothers and sisters in our places of worship and work? Admit, repent of, and humbly address our own personal bias and white privilege? Be informed, challenged, and educated by people of color? Publicly denounce systemic racism and join local efforts in racial reconciliation?

Nah. Too personal. Too uncomfortable. Too risky.

In the wake of Charlottesville, I observed silence from local white pulpits.

Toward peaceful protesters against police brutality, I heard national outrage from many white conservative evangelicals.

With racist remarks and policies from prominent politicians, I continue to hear excuses and enthusiastic applause from many white conservative *Christians.*

What do our black and brown brothers and sisters think when their white brothers and sisters, who claim faith in the same Jesus, respond ways that seem devoid of empathy?

I liken this empathy deficit to how we feel about our favorite pair of shoes. We like our shoes. They’re comfortable, well-worn, and conformed to the shape of our feet. Stepping into the shoes of another feels awkward, maybe even painful, and often forces us to adjust our gait.

White people need to consciously choose to identify with people of color by wearing their shoes. Yes, it’ll be uncomfortable. Yes, it’ll be awkward. Yes, it’ll be painful.

We’ll be asked to explore our deeply held beliefs, stereotypes, bias, and sin. We’ll need to confess that we’ve been complicit–that we who are white have actually been the benefactors of a system designed to serve us and ensure our success. We’ll need to repent of our silence as the oppressed have suffered and continue to suffer at the hands of a country that favors white bodies. We’ll need to sit in the pain of another. We’ll need to rethink how we relate to those who differ from us. And we’ll need to roll up our sleeves and get to work challenging systemic racism that is rooted in our churches, schools, communities, and government.

People of color are exhausted from years of racial injustices, both the major events and the daily microaggressions. Those of us in the white majority don’t get to determine the validity of their pain or experiences. Our minority friends have spoken. Our responsibility is to confess, repent, collectively grieve, and commit to listen and learn from the voices we’ve silenced for far too long.

If we, who claim the name of the non-white Jesus, want to walk in His way of truth, righteousness, justice, and peace, we must be willing to remove our own shoes and step into the shoes of another.  

If you are a white person seeking to follow the way of Christ, here are 3 steps you can take to move toward empathy:

  1. Explore the racial dynamics in your own life. Grab a journal and pen and begin to answer these questions: What assumptions have you made about people of color? What stereotypes have you believed about racial minorities? What experiences, conversations, and education might have shaped your perspective? When was the last time you, as a white person, were in the minority? How might your experiences in America differ from those who are black or brown? Do you bristle when racism is addressed? This first step is not meant to shame but to help you process your own journey in a way that allows for honest reflection, humility, and confession.

2. Educate yourself on the history of race and racism in America. Read books and articles by authors of color and listen to podcasts that address racism. Watch movies, online videos, and documentaries that offer visual stories from people of color in America. Education allows you to get acquainted with a broad range of lived experiences for racial minorities. If you’re overwhelmed, unsure of where to begin, I encourage you to start here.

3. Pray about how to get involved specifically. Ask God for direction as you determine where to use your gifts to practice empathy in your community. What would it look like for you to walk in the shoes of another right where you are? For local involvement, I highly recommend Be the Bridge, an organization founded and led by the fearless Latasha Morrison. This online community provides practical tools to help educate, equip, and guide you in how to bring the Gospel to life through the work of racial reconciliation in your community. You can learn more at beabridgebuilder.com.

About Katie:

I like strong coffee, good books, and belly laughs. I’m a recovering people-pleaser with a strong sense of justice and a deep desire to remind others that they belong. I married a good man and we parent 4 kiddos, one with an extra chromosome. Most days, our house is wonderfully L.O.U.D. I write about social justice, parenthood, Down syndrome, and adoption. You can find me at www.katiecarper.com
Instagram @katecarper.

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Photo by Sandrachile . on Unsplash

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When Church Feels Like a Masquerade {guest post}

By Nichole Woo |  Blog

It didn’t look like sacred space, just your typical high school auditorium. Three steps in, though, I was spellbound.

Outside, on the swarming streets of Taipei, my 5’10” frame and frizzy auburn hair screamed “foreigner.” Inside, among the concrete walls and rows of upholstered chairs, I blended in. Here, I was just another “other,” joining a pallet of skin tones as diverse as the nationalities represented. I entered the sea of “-an’s” and “o’s,” guiding my “Caucasi-an Americ-an” self through the crowd. As voices lifted to the Most High, we, the collective “other” instead became, “together.” I was seven thousand miles away from my street address, but in this embrace of belonging, I felt home.  Together as a cloud of witnesses from every corner of the earth, we, the Church, breathed heavenly air … in a high school auditorium.

Heaven and high school–these aren’t the spaces I’m used to. (Dare I even mention them in the same sentence?)

I’ve looked for “others” in churches back home, “others” in every sense of the word.  Racial and ethnic minorities are few, reflecting the demographics of where I live.

But the other “others” are veiled, too: The lonely, depressed, hurting, and addicted. Maybe they’re sitting pew-side, but incognito. High schools reflect a remarkably similar scenario. Thriving or even surviving there is all about disguise. Most of us wore our share of masks there. It’s an expected step in the coming-of-age-journey.

But should church feel like a masquerade, too?

Growing up with stellar Sunday school attendance, I’ve become a master at church disguises.  I know just what to wear, what to say, and how to play my role right. (As a child, I faithfully packed jeans for the drive home, because two hours a week in a dress was my limit. We lived three minutes away from the church.) For the most part, it’s allowed me to fit in. But my performances and costumes have never helped me belong. Not once.

There’s a difference.

True belonging begs an authenticity that’s impossible to achieve in costume. It demands a de-masking of sorts, exposing our vulnerability underneath.  It’s the weeping, skinned-kneed child, running for her consoling mother’s embrace. There is no cover up. When received, she will not respond — tear-stained cheeks and trembling lips — with “I’m great! Really busy, but great!” She runs to wide-open arms that see her as she is, but still stay open. She knows she belongs there. She is family, and blood is thicker than water.

Yet many of us sit, pew-side, blood-bought brothers and sisters in a collective cover-up. We shut ourselves out with disguises, instead of finding open arms. We perceive that we aren’t enough, so we hide behind our “Facebook/Instagram bests.” Here, socioeconomic status often determines small group status.  Indeed, wearing our “Sunday best” may even help us penetrate the elite inner circles.  (Yep, let’s be honest, churches have their “in-crowds” too . . .) We dress up to fit in, but we still find ourselves on the outside.

Why is it that church often feels more like high school, than “home”?

It’s clearer to me now, 7,000 miles away. Here, Taipei International Church meets in a high school auditorium. In this place, we are all unmistakably “others.”  No mask we wear will homogenize our DNA. But we share the same heavenly Father, who welcomed us with open arms, and grafted us into His family tree. We recognize that we were all once sinful strangers, and He let us in. Here is the beauty of the Church:  In Christ, the “other” transforms into “together.” We are one in Christ, despite all of our differences.

What if we all just acknowledged our “otherhood” instead of trying to hide it? 

At his life’s end, Martin Luther wrote, “This is true. We are all beggars.” All of us are the “other,” bankrupted outsiders in desperate need of a Savior to pay our debt. And He did. Now we’re family.  Maybe we need to start acting like it, and toss the masks.

I’m working on mine, but it’s tied pretty tight.

 

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About Nichole:

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. Visit her blog at www.walkthenarrows.com.

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This month on Scraping Raisins we are talking about Friendship and Community. Be sure and subscribe to my newsletter or follow on social media so you don’t miss a post!

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What I Wish a Friend Would Have Told Me Over Coffee about Foster Care {guest post}

By Katie Finklea | Instagram

Foster Care is the hardest thing my husband and I ever walked into. Foster Care is also the most honoring thing that my husband and I ever walked into.

In honor of National Foster Care awareness month, I wanted to share some ideas and thoughts I wish would had resonated with me before taking our first of 11 foster care placements.

These are some top principles I would share with you over coffee. I hope you find them transparent, startling, eye-opening and encouraging.

1. It is not nearly as scary as I thought.

When we got our first phone call for a placement, my heart was pounding, and I started scrubbing things in my house that I had never had a desire to scrub in my life. I was searching for control and I was scared. Scared that we would fail and scared that this kid would be terrible and make us not want to foster again. I was scared for my 2 ½ year old and 11 month old and what they would experience. I was just plain scared.

Then he came to the door with the transportation worker. That blond hair and those big brown eyes instantly melted the fear away. He was simply a kid. A kid who liked mac n cheese, and soccer balls, and bubble baths, and hated bed time.

Did he have trauma? Yes. Were there some odd things we came across that we didn’t anticipate? Yes. But it wasn’t scary. HE wasn’t scary.

2. The church as a whole has no clue how to support foster parents.

Two years ago, before I became a foster parent, I ran into a friend who I hadn’t seen in weeks. “How are you?” I asked. She had just started fostering a sibling group of three kids about two months earlier. Tears formed in her eyes and she began to weep.

“You are the first person in weeks to ask how I have been,” she said. I was stunned–partially because this woman was clearly struggling and isolated, but even more so because this woman was an active member of her church and led Bible studies. She was plugged into her church community and it was no secret to anyone she was fostering.

Has anyone brought you a meal or asked to watch the kids to give you a break?”

“No,” she said. “But plenty of people tell me they are praying for me.”

Are you surprised to hear that this family no longer fosters? Fifty percent of families stop fostering after the first year due to lack of support and burn out. Many times the burn out has nothing to do with the children they are bringing in their home, but simply to do with dealing with the broken foster care system, and little support from their community and church.

Unfortunately this is the norm. The body of Christ has a responsibility to be the village to foster families. Not everyone is called to be on the front line, but everyone can do something and rally around a family for the long term.

Not everyone is called to be on the front line, but everyone can do something and rally around a family for the long term.

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Mentor the child, offer babysitting, bring a meal, get background-checked according to your state requirements and offer that family respite for a weekend. [Visit Katie’s post about more ideas on how the church can support families who are fostering children.]

3. The goal of foster care is reunification, not adoption.

The ultimate goal of fostering is reunification. When a new foster family enters into foster care with the initial thought of adoption, they need to adjust their thoughts and reconsider foster care all together.

This is hard, and I struggle with this as well, but adoption is not the goal. Family preservation is the goal. Not family preservation at all costs, but we need to hope that the biological family can get the help they need to stand up and parent their child. We as foster parents give their child a safe and loving home while the family gets the help they need. That shows Christ’s redemption all over. That is the goal of foster care.

Of course family preservation is not always feasible and when it is not, there is a beauty in that adoption. But beauty never comes without a deep place of darkness for the biological family and the child.

So many times the biological family loves the child more than society can understand, but they simply don’t have the skill set to raise the child. The skill set isn’t there because that biological parent was a former foster child and never experienced normalcy. Then cycle continues and they lose full custody of their child. It is heartbreaking for them and also for the child to digest later in life.

So there is beauty in adoption, but there is a need for homes to truly be foster parents, and pray and cheer these bio parents on in hopes that reunification can happen.

4. The impact is immense.

This may seem obvious, but the ripple effects of offering a stable home to a child can be even more impactful than ever believed. Did you know that up to 80% of those who are sex trafficked come from children who are in the foster system?

According to Case.Org, studies show that 60% to 80% of child sex trafficking victims recovered by the FBI are from foster care or group homes. “Victims are trained to call sex traffickers “daddies” and themselves “wifey” – a perverted reflection of the family unit that these children are seeking. These children long for a family … even if it means being subjected to extreme violence and abuse.”

Gaining awareness and helping sex trafficking victims is vital, but instead of focusing on pulling them out of the river, we must focus on never letting them step foot in the river in the first place. Stable foster homes are one of the major antidotes for curing human trafficking.

Is foster care for everyone? No. But if you have been on the fence about opening your door to a vulnerable child, I encourage you to grab onto that thought and take the first step in going to an info session. The forever impact of loving bravely could be larger than you ever could imagine.

Check out a recent podcast, Mommin’ Ain’t Easy, interviewing Katie!

About Katie:

Katie is the founder of Loving Well Living Well, an adoption/foster care advocacy platform geared toward educating believers in their role in orphan care. She is also a foster mom, adoptive mom, biological mom and passionate for orphan care and promoting the Church’s role in meeting the needs of vulnerable children. Katie has also worked with birth mothers pre and post placement. Follow Katie on Instagram and Facebook.

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I have three books to giveaway this month, so keep an eye out for them! This week, I’m giving away a copy of Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as Spiritual Discipline. You can read my review here, but it’s a fabulous book to buy for moms of young children who need a breath of fresh air. Sign up for my newsletter by this Friday at midnight (MT) and I’ll send you a copy! Already signed up? Then like the Instagram post I put up on 5/8 and tag up to four friends in the comments section (I’ll enter your name once per friend you tag)! Sorry, only U.S. residents and no bots allowed. 😉

It would make a fabulous mother’s day gift for a mom in the trenches!

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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, too. 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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What I Wish a Friend Would Have Told Me Over Coffee about Foster Care {guest post}

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#WhiteChurchQuiet and How the White Church Can Get It Right

I skipped church the week Alton Sterling and Alando Castile were gunned down. I feared their names wouldn’t be mentioned from the pulpit.

I wanted to protect myself from bitterness that our all-white church could afford to not even notice the tsunami happening in the African-American community. Instead, I immersed myself in downloaded sermons from churches with people of color at the helm, finding they were not as bitter as I was. It turns out this was not a new phenomenon to them like it was to me. They had seen it all before. And they’d see it again.

I found myself gathering a similar resolve this past weekend after Charlottesville, my insides coiling and preparing to fight or flee as a response to the inevitable silence of our white church. We’ve since changed churches, but our 98 percent white church has tended to shy away from controversy in the past, so I suspected silence from the pulpit.

I was wrong.

Our pastor hit it head-on. We began our service with a congregational prayer and response for racial healing. From there, he launched into a lament and a call to us to do more, be more, learn more. He shared a time when he got it wrong in a partnership with a local black church.

Our church doing a congregational prayer and response after Charlottesville.

The white church has so far to go. In Lisa Sharon Harper’s recent guest post on Ann Voskamp’s blog, she pointed out that race is often considered an extracurricular activity for the church. But fighting for equal justice for men and women of color is not the same as signing up to help with the monthly newcomer’s potluck. It is not the same as giving money for overseas missions or serving in the soup kitchen.

This is not just one lane of many that we can choose to advocate for—the lane of racial healing is for every single member of the body of Christ. For when one part of our body is hurting, the rest suffers.

We all know how these things go. The internet will be deafeningly loud—for a while. The buzz will quiet down for a time until the next brown teenager is shot or the next rally is broadcasted.

But what if the white church couldn’t be identified as #whitechurchquiet any longer—a Twitter hashtag coined by Andre E. Johnson as a way of calling attention to the silence of the white church? What if the white church was known as a champion of our brown and black brothers and sisters in Christ? What if the white church was the loudest cry, the longest march and the most insistent voice in the fight for equal justice for every breathing human made in the image of God on this planet?

What if?

I am tempted to tune out and turn off the noise. I feel numb to the hate, paralyzed by the need for change.

But the church does not have the luxury of scurrying away and hiding from pain.The church does not have the right to cover her eyes until this, too, has passed. No, the church needs to step into the fire. 

The church does not have the luxury of scurrying away and hiding from pain.

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We are the body and blood of Jesus Christ. The church is fueled by the Spirit of the living God and the resurrected King of Kings. This is not the time for the church to cower. This is the time for the church to come out of hiding and love with all the love we have been given. It is the time to speak into the spheres where we live, work and worship.

These are not dark days, for God is not dead. He is piercing the darkness. He wants the white church to join Him.

Race Resources:

70+ Race Resources for White People

80+ MORE Race Resources for White People

Facebook groups:

Be the Bridge

Pass the Mic

What if the white church was the loudest cry, the longest march and the most insistent voice in the fight for equal justice for every breathing human made in the image of God on this planet?

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Confessions of a Chronic Church Hopper {for SheLoves}

Lately, evangelical Christianity has felt like too many dissonant musical notes strung together. I keep waiting for the resolution in the music. And I’m struggling to stay in the room.

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As a ten-year-old, I knelt by my bed to “ask Jesus into my heart.” Another fifth-grade friend had told me the day before while we pumped our gangly legs on the blue swing set in the backyard that she hoped she’d see me in heaven. If I wanted to be sure to go there, I needed to pray and ask Jesus into my heart. “Do you want to do it right now?” she pleaded. Shaking my head, I told her I’d think about it. I did, and decided I would rather spend eternity in heaven than in hell. Easy-peasy.

In When We Were on Fire, Addie Zierman recounts her evangelical youth culture upbringing. I could have been reading my own memoir as I flew through the pages. To be a Christian teenager in the 90′s was WWJD, See You at the Pole, “dating Jesus,” Teen Mania, True Love Waits, going to the Christian concerts of Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman, Newsboys, Petra and D.C. Talk. It was secret public school prayer meetings, youth group mission trips and camps, Christian T-shirts and worship to six kids strumming guitars in the public park.

Lately, evangelical Christianity has felt like too many dissonant musical notes strung together.

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It meant doing communion with chips and juice on a sidewalk behind the science building before school and slipping homemade gospel tracts into every student’s locker. And it was having your heart smashed by boys who said God told them to break up with you. But life was a battle and we were going to win (so we couldn’t be held back by petty things like love and romance.)

I sometimes miss those days when Holy Spirit fire flooded my veins. When I wanted to live “sold out and radical” for Jesus and “soar, soar, soar” for Him. I miss crying to worship songs and shouting out victory praise choruses, stretching my arms to the sky. I miss knowing without a doubt that God had a radical life planned for me.

The fire didn’t dissipate right away. Instead, after burning hot and wild, it sank to coals, glowing with a more steady heat. But the poker of Life couldn’t leave it alone. Jobs, relationships, disappointments, shame and questions jabbed, poked and prodded once steadily burning coals.

Over the years, I have often heard this illustration about church attendance: You need to stay in community; otherwise you will be like an ember taken out of the fire. Alone in the cold, your flame will eventually extinguish.

I fear that is happening to me now. I have become an expert church hopper. We visited 13 churches in the past two years after moving from Chicago to Colorado. We really have tried to make many of them work, jumping into small groups, church potlucks, newcomer’s luncheons and homeless outreaches. But after so many months, I am ready to admit that perhaps it is not the church that’s deficient. Maybe it’s me …

Continue reading the rest of the post at SheLoves

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Does Talking about Race Perpetuate Disunity?

Some evangelicals question the need to talk about race. Didn’t Christ erase our dividing lines? Aren’t we all one in Christ? Doesn’t Jesus want us to live in freedom, and not in (white) guilt and shame?

Yes, Jesus came to bring freedom to all who know Him. But when society does not treat people of color as equals, the church must speak up.

Sometimes we need to acknowledge brokenness before we can begin to move toward unity. We need to name it. We rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. We sit, we listen, and yes, sometimes we speak.

It’s time for white evangelicals to enter the race conversation as advocates, friends and allies. Ignoring the race question is like pretending the mountain doesn’t exist because it is shrouded in fog.

Since completing a one-month series on race during the month of March, many people have asked me how I felt about it and how it was received. Honestly, it was one of the least satisfying projects I have ever completed. Writing daily about race opened doors that only led to other rooms with more doors. Talking about race is never a finished conversation, always just a beginning. A person is never fully “woke.”

Most of the feedback I received was from people of color giving me a thumbs-up for having the guts to even enter the conversation. They were surprised I would venture into volatile territory since most white people who engage in this conversation have stakes in it—they’ve adopted a child of color, married a person of color or live in a very diverse area. I’m a white woman living in a white bubble. If I wanted to, I could go on with my life without a thought to race. Except I can’t.

A few friends pushed back on my series, asking, “Isn’t discussing race just divisive?”

Though some may argue that pointing out inequalities is unproductive and even unchristian, I believe silence perpetuates abuse. Last week there were several hashtags causing waves on Twitter. #ThingsOnlyWomenWritersHear and #WhatWoCWritersHear revealed ways women in general and women of color specifically feel undervalued, overlooked and diminished as writers. In speaking truth, we blast the darkness with brilliant light. As we bring ugly, buried sin into the open, it loses its power. It’s time to talk about the scary aspects of our society and our humanity.

Though it’s uncomfortable, naming our pain unleashes the power it has over us. We cannot move forward in relationship when we carry unspoken offenses. There is no sisterhood or brotherhood without trust. 

There is no sisterhood or brotherhood without trust.

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Here’s the truth:

“One in every fifteen people born in the United States in 2001 is expected to go to jail or prison; one in every three black male babies born in this century is expected to be incarcerated.” –Just Mercy, (p. 15)

One in THREE black male babies are expected to go to jail or prison.

The book Divided by Faith, a highly-researched book on evangelical’s views on race, concludes that the white perspective often dismisses institutional and systemic racism. Most white evangelicals do not acknowledge that we currently live in a racialized society. The authors push back (with documentation for each sentence):

They claim this perspective misses “that whites can move to most any neighborhood, eat at most any restaurant, walk down most any street, or shop at most any store without having to worry or find out that they are not wanted, whereas African Americans often cannot. This perspective misses that white Americans can be almost certain that when stopped by the police, it has nothing to do with race, whereas African Americans cannot. This perspective misses that whites are assumed to be middle class unless proven otherwise, are not expected to speak for their race, can remain ignorant of other cultures without penalty, and do not have to ask every time something goes wrong if it is due to race, whereas African Americans cannot. This perspective misses that white Americans are far more likely than black Americans to get a solid education, avoid being a victim of a crime, and have family and friends with money to help when extra cash is needed for college, a car, or a house.” –Divided by Faith (p. 90)

God’s love sets us all on equal ground. But when American society does not, God’s love should be the fuel that sets his children on fire for justice.

I cannot speak for any one race—my own or anyone else’s. But I’ve been listening. And this is what I hear.

I hear my black sister say society calls her less beautiful, more intimidating and less intelligent than a white woman.

I hear my black brother say he feels unsafe.

I hear parents of adopted children of color say they need to have complicated conversations at an early age.

I hear my mixed race friends asked, “What are you?”

I hear white people say they don’t see color.

I hear the church say we have different cultures, worship and preaching styles, so we shouldn’t attempt to integrate on Sunday mornings.

I hear my black sister experience microaggressions as she is told, “You are so articulate.”

I hear white parents say they value equal education (until they consider sending their child to a failing school).

I hear white evangelicals say we are already equal in Christ, so we don’t need to belabor the race issue.

As of the 2010 census, the United States is 72 percent white, 16 percent Hispanic (included with other races), 13 percent African American, 5 percent Asian and 3 percent other races (U.S. Census Bureau). Race is and will continue to be a conversation as the U.S. becomes increasingly more diverse. Squeezing our eyes shut will not make this problem go away.

Followers of Jesus should be on the forefront of the race conversation.

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Followers of Jesus should be on the forefront of the race conversation. We should advocate for equal treatment, housing, justice, education and rights for our black and brown brothers and sisters in Christ. When others are silent, we should speak out. But we also must follow, listen and learn.

Solidarity demands a posture of humility.

Yes, we are called to love God and rest in who we are in Christ as representatives of the Imago Dei. But we are also called to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. And perhaps loving our neighbor means entering some uncomfortable conversations and spaces for the sake of love. It’s time to admit that just because we can’t see the mountain, it is there, looming behind our white fog.

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How is God calling you to enter the race conversation?

(Consider joining the Facebook group Be the Bridge to Racial Unity to learn more about how God is moving in this sphere.)

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I was recently interviewed on Anita Lustrea’s podcast, Faith Conversations, about the series “31 Days of #WOKE” and how that series came to be. Check it out here. Also, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this topic, so please leave a comment below (or if you are being accused of being a “BOT,” you can send me a comment via Facebook or my contact form–that seems to be working!)

Related Post: Wake Up, White Church

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