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August 28, 2016

A Fellow Failed Missionary {a review of ‘Assimilate or Go Home’}

Missionaries are the elite. Sometimes assumed to have the “highest calling” a Christian can have, they are asked to speak at the pulpit, gather small groups in crowded living rooms, share color-saturated slides of exotic peoples and lands, put out glossy monthly newsletters and receive money from well-wishers. They are the darlings of the church—proof that those sitting in the pews on Sunday mornings do, in fact, care about the lost. And at the very least, the pew-sitters go themselves for a week or two to sidle up to and admire the work these long-term warriors are doing on the front lines.

I should know.

I’m a recovering missionary myself.

So when I came across the work of D.L. Mayfield recently, I felt an instant bond and got my hands on her new book Assimilate or Go Home: Notes from a Failed Missionary on Rediscovering Faith as quickly as I could. I was not disappointed.

Having written for McSweeney’s, Christianity Today, Relevant, Geez, The Toast, and Conspire!, among others, Mayfield is an experienced story-teller. This, her first book, is a collection of candid, wry essays that illustrate her lofty aspirations to save communities of refugees she entrenched herself among in America. Though she does not berate herself per se, she humbly concludes each snapshot of her do-gooder attempts by admitting that the results were rarely as she hoped. As a white woman reaching out to refugees and those in the low income housing where her family lived, Mayfield illustrates a slow coming to terms with her own savior complex, privilege and ignorance. Instead of making converts, she was reminded of the impoverishment of her own soul.

Through heart-breaking, sometimes hilarious, stories, she begins to internalize the truth that Henri Nouwen proclaimed, that “When we are not afraid to confess our own poverty, we will be able to be with other people in theirs.”[1] Ministry as she knows it is turned on its head as she discovers that the person who most needs saving is herself.

***

As a person who was also “called to missions,” I lived six months in Uganda, taught in an inner city school in Chicago and served five years in China. I can relate to many of the struggles Danielle wrestles with in her book. Like her, as a teenager I drank from a steady stream of missionary biographies, impassioned sermons and pleas to be “sold out and radical” for Jesus (which always meant selling everything, rejecting white picket fences and secretly judging anyone else who didn’t feel similarly called). I did the Christian college thing, went to the hard places and tried to live the radical life. But then I was called somewhere I never intended to be: right back where I started.

It wasn’t until I returned to the “normal” life of the “uncalled” that I began to understand the extent of my own poverty as I no longer embodied the shiny Christian label of “missionary.” I was just me.

***

In a recent interview on the podcast, Relief, put out by The Englewood Review of Books, Mayfield states that her new goal in life is no longer to save the world, but is now “to save her own people, the evangelical do-gooders.” While the book spotlights her own misplaced motives, she indirectly points out the deficiencies in white evangelical Christianity that seek to be generous without the commitment of long-term relationship, hospitable without being willing to live among the poor or bold in evangelism without regard for the culture, language or background of those they are trying to serve.

Assimilate or Go Home is a necessary read for any and all who aspire to be the “do-gooders” and world changers. Similar to Barbara Kingsolver’s fictional work about a bumbling missionary family in Africa, The Poisonwood Bible, I would venture to say that this should be in every do-gooder’s library as a study in humility and even, at times, a study in what NOT to do.

So in Mayfield, I’ve found a kindred spirit. She is another bent, broken, humbled and slowly maturing follower of Jesus who is realizing that the way up is the way down, the way forward is the way backward, and the way to life is through death–to herself, her dreams and her propensity to make herself the hero of her story.

***

“The Way of Jesus is radically different.

It is the way not of upward mobility but of downward mobility.

It is going to the bottom, staying behind the sets, and choosing the last place.”[2]

~Henri Nouwen

***

[1] Nouwen, Henri. “August 19.” Bread for the Journey. New York: Harper Collins, 1997. Print.

[2] Nouwen, Henri. “June 28.” Bread for the Journey. New York: Harper Collins. Print.

~~~

Buy the book Assimilate or Go Home: Notes from a Failed Missionary on Rediscovering Faith and check out Danielle’s blog!

~~~

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Previous Post: How Our Muslim Student Became Auntie Boo {for SheLoves}

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August 26, 2016

How Our Muslim Student Became Auntie Boo {for SheLoves}

I’m over at SheLoves today, sharing about how a Muslim girl came to live with us and became a part of our family…

My three-year-old son tightly twisted the long strand of strong black hair round and round his fingers as he emerged from the guest room yesterday. I peeked through the bedroom door and found my one-year-old daughter squatting on the floor, peering into a fish tank at the “fiffy”—a silky black Betta fish that fluttered to the surface of the bowl. Next to her, Shirin, a 26-year-old Saudi Arabian girl, sat cross-legged taking videos of my daughter that will no doubt make her famous on Snapchat in Saudi Arabia. I smiled silently at the scene, reflecting on the treasure of an unexpected relationship.

***

Three years ago, living back in Chicago after spending several years abroad, I was hungry for relationships with anyone who wasn’t a white American. Though I felt limited by my new mommy status, I volunteered to help ESL students at a nearby university practice their English on the condition that I could bring my eight-month-old son. Desperate for native speakers for students to practice with, the teacher agreed and invited me to her class of Saudi Arabians.

The class was made up of six women and four men who were forced to practice English together despite the fact that in conservative Islamic Saudi Arabia, men and women aren’t even allowed to attend mixed-gender classes. Most of the women wore traditional Saudi clothing—headscarves called hijabs and black, lightweight cloaks called abayas. They were painfully shy, though the presence of a baby magically cracked their solemn demeanor. After the third week volunteering, the teacher of the class whispered that there was something she needed to talk to me about after class.

Scooping up my son who had spent the class crawling under feet, skirts and chair legs, I handed him my keys to play with as I curiously sat down with the teacher.

“So,” she started. “Do you know Shirin from class?” I nodded. “Well,” she continued, “she wanted me to ask you if she could live with you for three months. She’ll pay you rent,” she added.
Surprised, I told her that I wasn’t sure, but I’d talk to my husband.

Though this was something that excited me, I was pretty sure my more level-headed husband would simply shake his head with that smirk on his face that says, “I love you for being so different, honey—but you’re kind of crazy.”

Instead, he leaned back against the kitchen counter, smiled, and shocked me by saying, “There’s really no reason we shouldn’t have her.”
Shirin moved in with us at the end of the summer and three months turned into ten…

…continue reading at SheLoves.

~~~

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~~~

Previous Post: The 37 Week Pep Talk for the (Scared) Waiting Mama

Next Post: A Fellow Failed Missionary {a review of Assimilate or Go Home}

August 22, 2016

The 37 Week Pep Talk for the (Scared) Waiting Mama

I know you reached this point in your other two pregnancies and struggled with fear and worry, so I thought I’d ward that off with a few reminders.

Hey lady, here we go again. You’re 37 weeks and feeling like this pregnancy has gone fast, but in slow motion. I know you reached this point in your other two pregnancies and struggled with fear and worry, so I thought I’d ward that off with a few reminders.

1. Trust your body.

The first time around, you weren’t so sure if you could really trust your body. You wondered how your labor story would play out and if your body would betray you. You let others dictate how you should labor and push out your baby. Though you had an unmedicated birth like you hoped, it was long, harder than you expected and you had some regrets. The second time around, you were better prepared and trusted that the pain was purposeful. You knew that slow is not bad, it is just the way God programmed you. So the next time, you surrendered to your body and allowed it to guide you. You sang, swayed, slept, soaked in the tub and relaxed. You did what it took to allow your mind to get in tune with your body. And after two days of laboring at home, you delivered a healthy baby girl 30 minutes after arriving at the hospital. I know you can do this again—trust your body. It knows what it’s doing.

2. Trust (and enjoy) your baby.

This little pink wriggly that they’ll place on your chest is more intuitive than you will ever know. He already knows you, loves you and respects you. Listen to him and find ways to be in tune with him—even when your gut goes against “the books.” God has made YOU his mama—no one else. He has gifted you with the ability to meet his needs in ways that no one else on earth right now can.

Instead of “getting through” those first few weeks and months with your new one, focus on enjoying him. Cuddle him longer than you “should,” tickle your nose with his baby fuzz hair, breathe in his newborn scent, strap him to your body to feel his warmth, nurse him in the middle of the night while you catch up on T.V. shows (without guilt) and cup his frog legs in your hands as his body still wants to be in a ball. Blink, and he will be running circles in the living room with your other two, so enjoy these precious, fleeting days of infancy while they last.

3. You will be given what you need.

Now that you have other children, you wonder how you will have space in the inner rooms of your heart for more. Will there be enough love, patience, wisdom, strength and time to stretch around and envelop this new one? Will you feel the same toward him that you do toward your other lovelies? This is where Jesus will step in, making His miracles. Like the widow who hesitated to give up the last of her oil and flour when the prophet Elijah asked for it, you, too, wonder if you will be required to give more than you have. But you will be shocked to find that “the bowl of flour shall not be exhausted, nor shall the jar of oil be empty” (1 Kgs. 17:14).

You will be given what you need exactly when you need it, so give freely. Err on the side of generosity. This time of adding a needy soul to an already chaotic and overflowing life will extend you beyond your ability so that you will see your needs and your new one’s needs met in miraculous ways. Your lack will lead to a demonstration of God’s provision. Your scarcity is an opportunity for Jesus to lavish His excessive love on you. Wait and see. God will make a feast out of your simple offering of flour and oil.

4. This baby does not belong to you.

He has never belonged to you and never really will. He has been knit, formed, made and molded in your body—but not by you. The Holy Spirit has been at work for a long time on this little one—you have always carried a part of him inside of your body, just waiting for this egg to be picked for such a time as this. God knew his name before he even existed and has always known the number of days he ordained for this little one. Open your clenched hands and place him back on the altar. This baby is not yours. The sooner you accept that, the better you all will be.

5. Do not fear.

Before you conceived, you feared it wouldn’t happen. You were afraid that pink line on your dollar store pregnancy test would never have a partner. But then throughout this entire pregnancy, you have feared that you would lose the baby. Now, you fear complications in these final weeks, in labor or that your baby will be born with birth defects that will alter his life and yours. Fear has stubbornly clutched your skirt hem all along this road. But here are some words of life that you wrote out for yourself on note cards the first time around. Let these words empower you as you prepare to give birth. Submerse yourself in them like the muscle-soothing soak of the weary who takes a bath after training for a marathon.

Soak in these Truths:

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him and I am helped; Therefore my heart exults, and with my song I shall thank Him”
(Ps. 28:7).

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love and self-discipline”
(2 Tim. 1:7).

“When I am afraid, I will put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God have I put my trust; I shall not be afraid. What can mere man do to me?”
(Ps. 56:3-4).

“For God is not a God of confusion, but of peace”
(1 Cor. 14:33).

“I can do all things through Him who strengthens me”
(Phil. 4:13).

“You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord is the rock eternal”
(Is. 26:3-4).

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you”
(Is. 43:1-2).

“Be strong and courageous! Do not trouble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go”
(Joshua 1:9).

“Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who hope in the Lord”
(Ps. 31:24).

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the defense of my life; Whom shall I dread?”
(Ps. 27: 1).

“Peace, I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful”
(Jn. 14:27).

***

You can do this, lady. Trust God, yourself and your baby. This is not the first time a woman has given birth and it is certainly not the last. You are not walking alone, but are held. Embrace this incredible experience for all its rawness, intensity and mystery. You’ve got this!

~~~

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Check out my other posts on motherhood and pregnancy here.

Previous Post: What My Pregnant Body is Teaching Me

Next Post: How our Muslim Student Became Auntie Boo {for SheLoves}

August 9, 2016

Pregnancy~The Upside of Failing Your Glucose Test

I got the dreaded call. Though this is my third pregnancy, I failed the one-hour glucose test by three points. Three little points. I’d have to return to take the more grueling three-hour version. I wish I could say that I took this news gracefully, but you better believe I called back and begged and pleaded with the nurse to let me retake the one-hour test (yes, I’m that girl). The nurse wouldn’t budge. Ugh. She explained the test, which in a nutshell was that I would have to drink a disgusting drink, wait in the office for three hours (no leaving) and give blood all morning—oh yeah, after fasting for 12 hours while PREGNANT. Not my idea of a good time.

I ate an extra helping at dinner the night before the test, knowing that I’d have to fast all morning. Remembering a Muslim friend of mine who fasted 10 hours a day all month for Ramadan, I felt (slightly) guilty for pathetically complaining that I had to skip one measly meal. After leaving the kids with the sitter, I hopped in my car and prayed I’d pass.

The nurses all gave me sympathetic looks of I’m sorry we had to ask you back here to torture you, as I walked in the door, which I certainly appreciated. The morning started with the first of what would be four blood draws. After that, my friendly nurse handed me an even sweeter drink than I had in the previous test. But she and I chatted and laughed as I choked it down. I gave a rueful thumbs up to the nurses at the station as I lugged my bag out to the waiting area. My stomach started revolting during that first hour, but I managed to keep the drink down. Then every hour for three hours, my sweet, chipper nurse came out, apologized, then jabbed me with yet another needle and I would head back out to the waiting area. Three hours. One nasty drink. Four blood draws.

But here’s what I didn’t account for—three hours TO MYSELF. Oh my sweet Jesus, there was a beauty and silver lining to this pain and inconvenience that I hadn’t taken into account. I sat in silence. I wrote. I read. I had thoughts. It was beautiful. Honestly, by the end of it, I was begging that nurse to take more of my blood if it meant I could sit there guiltlessly for a few more hours.

By the end of the morning, I actually felt refreshed. Like I had spent the morning at a spa instead of chugging down foul sugar water and being stabbed several times over the course of the morning.

Our sitter looked at me dubiously as I bounced back home after allegedly giving blood four times on an empty stomach. “It was rough,” I said.

(Oh, and I passed).

~~~

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Previous Post: When You Can’t Quit Your Job

Next Post: What My Pregnant Body is Teaching Me

August 3, 2016

When You Can’t Quit Your Job

Two weeks ago I was ready to quit being a mom.

At 34 weeks pregnant, with a nearly four-year-old and just turned two-year-old watching T.V. downstairs, I lay in bed right before my husband left for work, pulled up the covers, and let it all come crashing down. He did the right husband things, asking what he can do for me and praying that I’d find the strength I needed to take care of the kids that day.

Yes, I’m pregnant. Yes, it has been in the 90’s nearly every day for the past month. And yes, we are in the season of structure-less summer with two demanding children. So of course.

But just because you can see all the reasons why you may be feeling a certain way doesn’t pull you up out of the hole you want to stay safely buried in. But then my husband had to leave for work. And I fought my way to the weekend, barely surviving.

On Sunday I tried carpe diem. We made waffles, blasted Josh Garrels on Pandora and danced in the flour dust on the kitchen floor. I convinced my husband to let me take the afternoon off and I didn’t move from my seat in a coffee shop for nearly five hours.

But then Monday crept in with her black clouds, heaviness and strength-stealing aggression. Carpe diem let me down.

So out of desperation, I put out an S.O.S. to some friends who live in other states. The message was this: I don’t have energy or even the desire to be with my children right now. Please pray and please call me.

And they did.

My friend who is a counselor recommended that I find a counselor. My friend who is a teacher asked how I’m structuring my days and suggested ways to fill our time. My Catholic friend called from her personal retreat and we talked about the time I have been spending alone and the ways that motherhood still undoes her on a regular basis. And my friend whose third baby was more than a surprise suggested we get out of the house as much as possible.

On Wednesday, we dropped the kids off with my parents and headed to the mountains for my first adult, church-camp-style retreat. Nature plus camping plus Jesus lovers (minus kid/home responsibilities) sounded just about perfect.

The conference was full of big ideas, big personalities and big dreams for God. Not just the dynamic speakers, but the 300 attendees all seemed to be engaged in fighting injustice around the globe. We sat next to those living among the homeless, people working with those in sex trafficking, current and former missionaries, a couple doing humanitarian work in Iraq, pastors, worship leaders, heads of women’s ministries and counselors. The movers and shakers of kingdom work.

The weekend was full of radical Jesus lovers who believed that faith should translate into action.

As a stay-at-home mom in white bread America, I expected to feel frustrated and inhibited. Marriage and motherhood have been a slow shaving down of those types of ambitions for me into a single point—our home.

But God can surprise you.

When I approached one of the speakers after her powerful talk to thank her, she turned the conversation around—“What do you do?,” she asked.

I pointed to my bulging belly, laughed, and said, “This…and try to survive the other two.”

And then she fixed her gaze fully on me, pointed, and said, “You are SO blessed. I didn’t marry until later in life and wasn’t able to have children of my own, so I think what you are doing is incredible and beautiful.”

I did what any pregnant, overwhelmed, defeated mama would do—I cried. “Thank you,” I said, “and you’re right—it is a gift.”

“But that doesn’t diminish how hard it can be, either,” she consoled me. I nodded.

Throughout the weekend of tales of people going to jail for feeding the homeless, recovering from abuse, deconstructing and reconstructing a polished faith and fighting on the front lines of injustice, instead of feeling less-than or shackled by my role as a mom, I felt something else.

I felt loved.

The conference, called “Simply Jesus,” was true to its name and allowed me to feel that because Jesus is enough, then I am enough. Yes, He has called me to Big Things in the past and may call me to radical steps of faith in the future, but right now, He is calling me to dig deep into the few callings He has given me. Shawn DeBerry Johnson, one of the speakers at the conference, challenged us to be sure that we are living out of our callings and not just out of our comfort—and that we are not called to ALL things.

So it made me think about what God is calling me to right now.

I am called to spend time with Jesus daily and to let myself be loved by Him.

I am called to be a selfless, generous, attentive, adoring, spirit-filled and fun wife.

I am called to the kind of downward mobility that asks me to sit down on the floor and play with my kids, listen to their stories, gather them up into my lap (what’s left of it), smother them with kisses, put band aids on invisible boo boos and take them out to explore our world.

More than one mother encouraged me over the weekend—many with grown children who had moved away from God and away from them. “I wish” and “I would have” were a few sentence starters they used to encourage me to love them hard, be intentional about teaching them and not allow these moments to slip by. They affirmed the hardness of the season, but highlighted its value, too.

But I am also called to use my gifts and passions in whatever small way I can. To love my neighbor right next to me. To think of ministry on the micro level instead of the macro level—loving the international student He brings to live with us, making meals for new moms, investing in just one or two friends and continuing to open my eyes to the injustice in our world as I listen to podcasts while folding laundry, read books while my kids nap or check news on my phone in the grocery line.

I am called to shift the puzzle pieces of my day to make space for writing and stay engaged in that world because it activates my soul and allows me to lean more into the rest of my day from a place of wholeness.

I have only been back for two days, but while I still feel tired and mostly want to just sit on the couch and be a spectator instead of engaging with my children, I feel more relaxed, peaceful and still than I did a week ago. I feel like I spent the weekend with Jesus rubbing my feet and reassuring me that I’m on the right road, that I can do this. That I can keep going.

The last day of the conference in the chill of the morning, I wriggled my hand into my pocket and found a tiny object there—a butterfly hair bow that belonged to my two-year-old daughter. Pulling it out, I held it flat on the palm of my hand and then clutched it tightly. Throughout the morning, that bow reminded me of the treasure I had waiting back at home. A treasure I hadn’t wanted to see.

One of my favorite stories in the Bible is of Elijah climbing the mountain and waiting for God to appear. He finds that God is not in the Big Things—the great and powerful wind, the earthquake, or the fire—but in the gentle whisper. When Elijah hears it, he pulls his cloak over his face and goes out to meet the Lord. And God tells him, “Go back the way you came.”

Sometimes the way forward is the way backward. Sometimes it is accepting that where we are is exactly where God wants us to be and instead of looking for ways out, we should be looking for ways in, to dig deeper and live more fully into the simple callings that Jesus has placed on our lives.

Every night I sing to my children. For my daughter, I sing “Jesus Loves Me” and usually follow it with the song that we just happened to sing as our final song at the conference—as I sing it, it is a song whispered not from the pulpit, stage or blasted from the speakers, but in the quiet shadows in the nursery of our home:

“I love you Lord and I lift my voice to worship you, oh my soul, rejoice.

Take joy, my king, in what you hear. Let it be a sweet, sweet song in your ear.”

It’s as simple as that.

~~~

Subscribe to Scraping Raisins by email and/or follow me on Twitter and Facebook. I’d love to get to know you better!

~~~

Related Posts:

For the Mom Whose Life Feels Small

Loving Like They’re Lost

When Jesus Asks Too Much of Us

Previous Post: Monthly Mentionables {July}

Next Post: The Upside of Failing Your Glucose Test

July 28, 2016

Monthly Mentionables {July}

What a month.

Doesn’t it feel a bit like fear is steering the ship?

If you’ve forced your eyes, ears and heart open like I have in spite of longing to turn off the news, jump back in bed and binge on T.V., then you may be feeling like fear is delivering us straight into the darkness.

But an image has helped me not to be overcome by hopelessness. Sitting on our back porch in the early hours of the morning recently, I re-read the familiar words of Psalm 139 about God searching me and knowing me, knowing when I sit and rise, etc. But seemingly new words reached out from the page, grabbing my chin and speaking straight to my doubting face as David cried out to God:

“Where shall I go from your Spirit?
    Or where shall I flee from your presence?
⁸If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
    If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
⁹If I take the wings of the morning
    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
¹⁰even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me.
¹¹If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
    and the light about me be night,”
¹²even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light with you.”

And it hit me: God sees in the dark.

He does not stumble blindly, knock into the coffee table or stub his toe.

God has night vision.

In fact, darkness is not even dark to Him, but is as bright as the day. We are never alone in the darkness. Although we cannot see the way ahead, Someone is walking with us who can.

God has used some of the following books, podcasts and articles this month to encourage, challenge and grow me. Many of them have been twinkling lights in the darkness. I hope you find the time to click on some of the links and I’d love to read some of your recommendations in the comments section!

Books:

Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faithby Anne Lamott

This was my first Anne Lamott book that I picked up at our local Little Free Library. Irreverent and honest, Anne invites her readers on a refreshing faith journey that does not hide the bumps and bruises she receives along the way. Having attended churches full of squeaky clean Christians most of my life (and having been one myself), I appreciated having a peek behind the curtain at how Jesus meets with other sisters and brothers before they get all cleaned up (and even when they don’t).

Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God by Brennan Manning

Brennan Manning does it again and manages to combine extensive research, deep spiritual truths, an incredible vocabulary and jarring images to present a message of grace lived out by a life of tested faith. I loved the chapter titled “Artists, Mystics and Clowns” because of my husband’s background in acting and my love of writing, but thoroughly enjoyed the entire book as I absorbed short passages with coffee in the wee hours of the morning this month.

Podcasts:

A Mom’s Mission Field
This podcast was new to me this month. The host, Tiffany Castleberry, brings on guests who do not believe that being a mom and following God’s call on your life are mutually exclusive. I especially enjoyed the following episodes:

Flower Patch Farm Girl Blooms in the City: Shannan Martin
I loved this interview with Shannan Martin and am looking forward to her new book coming out this fall called Falling Free: Rescued from the Life I Always Wanted. She’ll also have an essay in this book full of other amazing writers called Soul Bare: Stories of Redemption by Emily P. Freeman, Sarah Bessey, Trillia Newbell and more, edited by Cara Sexton.

A Sweaty Conversation about Racial Reconciliation: Retha Nichole and Emily Thomas
Such a great conversation between two white women and an African American woman about race relations following the shootings earlier this month.

Following Your God Dreams while Raising a Family: Tricia Goyer
This was the first episode I listened to of this podcast and I loved the way the women talked about following God’s calling on your life in the midst of raising a family.

Code Switch: Race and Identity, remixed
Extra: No Words (reflecting on the shootings of Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and the 5 policeman in Dallas)

Pass the Mic
I discovered this podcast the day after I published this popular post on race resources for white people and I really wish I had included it in the list! What I appreciate about this podcast is that not only are the hosts completely candid about discussing race in our country, they also come at it from the perspective of how a Jesus follower should learn and move forward when it comes to race issues in our country. Here were a few episodes that were especially helpful in filling in blanks for me:

Defining White Privilege

Defining Systemic Racism

Roundtable: How to Be a White Ally

Real Hurt, Real Hope: Racial Tension and Perseverance (reflecting on the shootings of Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and the 5 policeman in Dallas)

Shalom in the City with Osheta Moore
#14 Seeking Shalom for the Immigrant
Loved this interview with a woman married to a man from Guatemala and her experience working in immigration in America.

#16 Everyday Practices of Peace for the Homeless
If you’ve ever interacted with homeless people or are have questions about how we should think about homelessness in America, this interview with a woman who has worked in homeless ministries and public health for 20 years is a great source of further education in this area.

Village Church Sermons
Justice and Racial Reconciliation (from the week of the shootings of Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and the 5 policeman in Dallas)
This panel discussion was healing balm to my soul after that rough week. I’m thankful for Jesus followers who are not afraid to have the hard conversations.

What Should I Read Next? with Anne Bogel
#31 Lifetime Favorite Books and reading for a living with Adam Verner
Everyone should listen to this episode featuring my hubby, audio book narrator, Adam Verner! I’ve listened to Anne’s podcast since January and it dawned on me that my husband would be the PERFECT guest since he’s an audio book narrator and devours books even when he’s not working. He had a great conversation with Anne that I know you’ll love (though I’m slightly biased);-).

(No New Recipes This Month…did I mention that I’m 8 months pregnant…?)

Thought-Provoking Articles from the Web:

A Letter to My Son, (an African American man’s letter to his son), by Rev. Otis Moss III for Huffington Post

A Week from Hell, by Charles M. Blow for The NY Times

Delayed Kindergarten Enrollment Dramatically Reduces ADHD in Children, Study Shows for The Inquisitr

Lacrae: Humility is the Key to Understanding Race Relations: Guest Essay, by Lecrae for Billboard

[Love Looks Like] Choices, by Sarah Bessey

Misogyny in Missions, by Jonathan Trotter for A Life Overseas

My Husband Isn’t Called to Ministry, by Cara Meredith for Christianity Today

The Truth of Loneliness, by Liz Ditty for The Mudroom

Verge Network 7 Part Series on Racial Justice

White Fragility: Why Its So Hard to Talk to White People about Racism, by Dr. Robin Diangelo for The Good Men Project

The 5 Truths Stay-at-Home and Working Moms Can Agree on, by Katelyn Beaty for Her.Menutics

10 Ways to Live Well, by Amy Young for SheLoves Magazine

38 Resources to Help Your Church Start Discussing Race Today by Missio Alliance

Just for fun (language alert!)

God Makes Animals (these are the types of things my husband finds on the Internet)

New (to me) Websites and Blogs:

Good Black News
This site is pretty self-explanatory and shares wonderful things that are happening in the African American community. For example, this article mentioning that some black women will be acting in the movie adaptation of one of my favorite books, A Wrinkle in Time.

Reformed African American American Network
Along with offering the podcast, Pass the Mic, that I mentioned above, this site is a treasure trove of resources on race relations in America.

White Allies in Training
This site offers a ton of resources for white people looking for more information about racism and how they can be involved in being a bridge towards reconciliation in America.

A Life with Subtitles (blog for Sarah Quezada)
I heard about Sarah on this podcast about marrying an immigrant and working in immigration and ran straight over to her blog. This is a great blog for anyone working, living or loving in a cross-cultural setting.

D.L. Mayfield (personal blog)
I am currently reading her book, Assimilate or Go Home: Notes from a Failed Missionary on Rediscovering Faith (due to be released in August), and really enjoying it! More on that later;-) I absolutely love her wry and honest writing style and can really relate to so much of what she writes about as she worked for years with refugees in America.

In Case You Missed it on Scraping Raisins:

70+ Race Resources for White People
“It’s time.

Maybe you read a news article on your Facebook feed or listened to a podcast and feel it’s time for you to finally DO something about the injustices in our nation.

Perhaps it is time for that.

But our African American sisters and brothers have asked that before we speak, we be sure that we have done something else first: educate ourselves...” continue reading

I once was (color) blind, but now…
“As white people, we brag that we are “colorblind” and congratulate ourselves for being inclusive and tolerant. Because we don’t actively hate, abuse or reject those of another color personally, we would never call ourselves “racists.” We say we see everyone as the same and silently assume that everyone, deep down, is like us.

But as we boast that we are colorblind, what we are blind to is that color really does matter. People are treated certain ways simply because of the color of their skin.

My journey toward sight began as all breakdowns of prejudice inevitably must: through a relationship…” continue reading…

A Muslim in Our Home
“Perhaps the only difference between our Fourth and yours was that we spent ours with a devout Muslim who is currently living in our home, a close friend whom our children call “Auntie Boo.” She lived with us for a year in Chicago and is now staying with us for a month after recently finishing her studies in Denver. We invited her to celebrate the 4th of July at my parent’s house a few hours away in the middle of the Rocky Mountains…” continue reading…

~~~

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Next Post: When You Can’t Quit Your Job

Previous Post: “Open a Vein” {Thursday Thoughts for Writers}

Linking up with Leigh Kramer: What I’m Into

Note: This post contains affiliate links. If you click on a book and buy it through Amazon, you will not be charged extra, but I will receive a very tiny commission.

July 28, 2016

“Open a Vein” {Thursday Thoughts for Writers}

We spent Saturday afternoon as a family at our local thrift store and ended up with all the randomness that you do when you troll through other people’s junk: a fish tank, a hot pink baby tub (we’re having a boy), $5 name brand flip flops, a pocket Thesaurus, The Tipping Point and a gem–Listening to Your Life: Daily Meditations with Frederick Buechner. He was recently recommended to my husband after being interviewed on the podcast What Should I Read Next? with Anne Bogel, so we were excited to find one of his books on the cheap.

The reading for July 24 was like a signpost to me; one of those moments where you feel God’s fatherly hand patting you on the back saying, “Yes, daughter, you’re on the right path. Keep walking this way. I’m right here with you.”

Last week I wrote about writers having the propensity to bleed on the page, having never read any of the following. For the meditation on July 24, Buechner says:

“…What Red Smith said was more or less this: ‘Writing is really quite simple; all you have to do is sit down at your typewriter and open a vein’–another haematological image. From the writer’s vein into the reader’s vein: for better or worse a transfusion. I couldn’t agree with Red Smith more. For my money anyway, the only books worth reading are books written in blood…Write about what you really care about is what he is saying. Write about what truly matters to you–not just things to catch the eye of the world but things to touch the quick of the world the way they have touched you to the quick, which is why you are writing about them. Write not just with wit and eloquence and style and relevance but with passion. Then the things that your books make happen will be things worth happening–things that make the people who read them a little more passionate themselves for their pains, by which I mean a little more alive, a little wiser, a little more beautiful, a little more open and understanding, in short a little more human” (p. 190).

As a writer, it is tempting to write “things to catch the eye of the world.” Some call it “writing for your audience.” But as I delve into this art, I’m finding that it is the words that cost us the most that are of the most value to others. I’m learning, like Buechner says, to “open a vein.”

~~~

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Previous Post: Fight Injustice (offer what you have)

Next Post: Monthly Mentionables {July}

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On (most) Thursdays this year, I’ll share thoughts, tips and inspiration for writers. I’m not an expert, but hope to seek personal encouragement in this art and want to share with anyone who’s also trying to find their way as a writer. These short posts will come from books, articles, the Bible, my own thoughts, and other people. If you’re new to the series, check out the posts you missed here. Please introduce yourself in the comments–I’d love to meet you and hear your thoughts on writing.

Happy writing!

Leslie

July 21, 2016

Fight Injustice (offer what you have) {Thursday Thoughts for Writers}

"You have no idea how or when God is going to use the offering of your words."

I used to want to be a world-changer, but now I am a diaper-changer. I used to travel to far-off lands and now I cringe when I think of taking my children to the grocery store. I used to be a professional teacher and now I strap shoes on little feet, wipe yogurt off walls and lamely answer the question “Why don’t you know?” about a hundred times a day. I used to live in another culture and speak another language and now I live, shop and worship in Homogeneous Land of All Same.

I used to write in a journal with a metal lock, but now I write on the internet for strangers to rifle through my thoughts as if they are sifting through my bedroom closet.

Lately, as the world seems to be clattering down around us (and I need to propel my 8-month-pregnant body to make dinner for our family of four with no groceries in the house), I literally want to curl up on the couch, pull our plush throw blanket over my head, close my eyes and disappear. I tried it yesterday, actually, and we eventually ended up sharing three grilled cheese sandwiches and eggs for dinner.

So when I start reading about not being silent in the face of injustice, speaking out, and standing up, it makes me feel…tired. It reminds me of those over-worked disciples warily looking over the fields of thousands of people and saying to Jesus, “It’s late. Should we send them away for dinner?” And gentle, irrational Jesus calmly saying to them, “No, dears. YOU give them something to eat.” They managed to scrounge up a meal for thousands from one little boy‘s contribution of five loaves of bread and two fish. Jesus made much of their little.

I’ve written about it several times already, but I was recently moved by Lisha Epperson’s piece called “One Small Square” because she broke down our responsibility to confront injustice into an attainable goal that I would summarize like this: do what you can, where you are, with what you have. We offer our meager loaves and fish.

Fight Injustice (offer what you have) {Thursday Thoughts for Writers}

The average person doesn’t write on the Internet other than the occasional Facebook outburst, but those of us with writing blood must spill it online for all to see. And whether we have 25 readers a day or 25,000, whether we write books and publish for big-name magazines, or write for free, we have a platform to launch our voice that others do not have. And because of that, we have a responsibility to stand up and speak out–no matter how tired, weary or befuddled we are.

For the past six months I‘ve been digging into the race issues in America. Many days I‘ve driven through the mountains of Colorado after my kids have fallen asleep in the car, listening to podcasts on racial injustice and weeping. As a white stay-at-home mom living in a nearly all-white area of America, it seems ironic that God would break my heart at a time when I don’t even interact with people of color. And yet less than a year ago, one thing led to another and I started this little blog, opened a Twitter account and started a business Facebook page.

So when I read about Alton Sterling and Philando Castile and saw that other white people like me were beginning to see and wanting to get on board with our African American sisters and brothers, I published my simple offering–what I’ve been learning. In less than two weeks, that post has been visited nearly 60,000 times and 170 books on racial issues have been purchased on Amazon. God has multiplied my offering and used my bread and fish to feed hungry people.

I’m not writing this to brag, but to encourage you. You have no idea how or when God is going to use the offering of your words. Like me, you might have a little blog with just a few readers. But let your voice ring out into what feels like the void. Offer your loaves and fish to God and to the masses and wait. Perhaps God will do a miracle with your simple offering.

~~~

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Previous Post: ‘The Invention of Wings’ Book Club Discussion Questions

Linking up with Grace and Truth

Happy writing!

Leslie

July 15, 2016

‘The Invention of Wings’ Book Club Discussion Questions

What happens when you cross a former teacher with a blog? You get some very nerdy academic shenanigans going on like book discussion questions. This was a list of questions I used for our first book club discussion of The Invention of Wings, by Sue Monk Kidd. I thought it might benefit those of you who may not have the time or desire to channel their inner middle school language arts teacher like I do.

Summary:

The Invention of Wings is written from the perspective of one white woman from a slave-owning family in South Carolina and the African American attendant she was “given” as a girl. The chapters alternate between these points of view and walk us through their lives as the United States begins to awaken to the injustices of slavery. The themes regarding race, women’s rights and the role of history and religion in the formation of our laws are discussions that are still applicable around our living room, at bars and certainly on the Internet today. Packed with imagery and symbolism, this book provided a great discussion for our first book club. I would certainly recommend that you explore its depths with a friend or two.

Questions for discussion:

(As a leader, just skip around to follow the flow of the discussion. We probably only talked about half of them, though we spent more time on the questions about specific passages.)

1. Did you like the book overall? What did you like/not like about it?

2. Did anything confuse you? Do you have any questions?

3. What surprised you?

4. Which emotions did the book bring out in you?

5. Sue Monk Kidd used many objects as symbols for various deeper ideas. What do you think these stood for: quilts/the story quilt, the button (97, 277), feathers/birds (228, 236, 303), the bathtub (115), thread, and the tree (84)?

6. What were some of the major themes of the book?

7. Discuss the following characters: Handful, Sarah, Mauma, Angelina, Sarah’s parents, Israel, Denmark, Sky, others? What did you admire, dislike, find surprising or meaningful about them?

8. Discuss some of the following passages (read the paragraphs before and after for context):

a. p. 54 “I didn’t know for sure whether Miss Sarah’s feelings came from love or guilt.”

b. p. 89 “I’d said, ‘I’m sorry, Handful, I know how you must feel.’ It seemed to me I didn’t know what it felt to have one’s liberty curtailed, but she blazed up at me. “So we just the same, me and you? That’s why you the one to shit in the pot and I’m the one to empty it?’”

c. p. 194 “To remain silent in the face of evil is itself a form of evil.”

d. p. 210 “My body might be a slave, but not my mind. For you, it’s the other way round.” (also on p. 200).

e. Down a bit further on p. 210 “How does one know the voice is God’s? I believed the voice bidding me to go north belonged to him, though perhaps what I really heard that day was my own impulse to freedom. Perhaps it was my own voice. Does it matter?”

f. p. 275 “She leaned toward me. ‘Life is arranged against us, Sarah. And it’s brutally worse for Handful and her mother and sister. We’re all yearning for a wedge of sky, aren’t we? I suspect God plants these yearnings in us so we’ll at least try and change the course of things. We must try, that’s all.”

g. p. 288 Sarah’s choice between marriage and vocation. “Wouldn’t I, wouldn’t we be enough for you?’ he said. ‘You would be a wonderful wife and the best of mothers. We would see to it that you never missed your ambition.’”

h. p. 295 “I longed for it in that excruciating way one has of romanticizing the life she didn’t choose. But sitting here now, I knew if I’d accepted Israel’s proposal, I would’ve regretted that, too. I’d chosen the regret I could live with best, that’s all. I’d chosen the life I belonged to.”

9. Were there any other specific parts you’d like to talk about with the group?

10. What did you think about the ending?

11. What did you learn? Did this book change you in any way?

Bonus Questions:

12. Were Sarah and Handful really “friends”? Why or why not?

13. Who was the most “free” in the book?

14. If you created your own story quilt, what are a few of the squares that would be on it?

15. What role did religion play in the book?

16. Did you like the way the book was written from both Handful and Sarah’s perspectives? What did this add to the story?

17. Do you think Sarah should have married Israel?

18. How did the fact that the author of this book is a white woman affect your reading of the book? Do you think an African American woman would have written it differently? If so, how?

19. If you read the author’s note, did you agree with the changes Sue Monk Kidd made in the facts?

20. How is this an appropriate book for our times even though it was written about a time 180 years ago?

~~~

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~~~

Note: This post contains affiliate links. If you click on a book and buy it through Amazon, you will not be charged extra, but I will receive a very tiny commission.

Previous Post: Mourning and the Duty to Delight

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July 12, 2016

Mourning and the Duty to Delight

A collective heaviness is caving in on us. With terrorism striking even holy Islamic sites, countries advising their citizens not to travel to the U.S. or wear traditional clothing here, many churches and Christian institutions now urging their members to rush out to get concealed carry permits, and people of color afraid to leave their homes lest they be pulled over for a driving infraction only to be shot in cold blood, fear has become an epidemic.

Fear is creeping in, over, through, and around us and its darkness is strangling the light. Can you feel it?

Civilians cower in a society where we are vulnerable to being gunned down even in shopping malls, movie theaters, night clubs, peaceful protests, church prayer meetings and elementary schools.

Officers who have vowed to protect, defend and secure our safety are murdered, but cringe when they hear of yet another cop that has dragged their once heroic reputation into the mire.

Politicians bumble along with empty words.

People of color cry out “See! Do you see NOW? When are you going to get it?”

Some white people are learning to live with new-found sight and are begging for something to DO (which, if we’re honest, feels about as useful as dad putting the proverbial pot of water on to boil while the woman writhes in labor pains).

And the majority of whites still choose to log out of Facebook and news apps or switch off the T.V. to ignore what only makes them feel powerless and guilty, because “What can I, a stay-at-home mom, financial advisor, or construction worker actually do to help anyway?”

We are grasping for an elusive hope, wrestling with despair and choking for fresh air. We either let anger crush us or we take the easy way out and run away, hide and pretend the suffering doesn’t exist. I know. I’m a recovering runaway myself.

But there is another way.

Gregory Boyle is an American Jesuit priest who has spent the past 25 years working in one of the most gang-riddled areas of the United States. He has buried more than one hundred gang members over the course of his time in L.A.—often just as they have begun to clean up their lives. He has had every reason to despair and lose hope. In fact, it was after being diagnosed with cancer that he finally decided to write a book about his experiences. Yet his memoir, Tattoos on the Heart, includes an entire chapter not on hopelessness, but on delight.

He says,

“Dorothy Day loved to quote Ruskin, who urged us all to the ‘Duty to Delight.’ It was an admonition, really, to be watchful for the hilarious and heartwarming, the silly and the sublime. This way will not pass again, and so there is a duty to be mindful of that which delights and keeps joy at the center, distilled from all that happens to us in a day” (p. 148).

I admit that I’ve judged those on social media that have seemed to go on with their daily lives and continue to post pictures of their kid’s messy first-food faces, family vacations, ridiculous memes and silly quotes during a week when much of America has been in mourning. And yet perhaps this is their way of coping while so much of the world has been paralyzed by grief and fear.

Last week after watching the video of Philando Castile bleeding to death in his car while his fiance’s four-year old daughter sat in the back of the car and a cop’s shaky gun spoke to the world’s horrified onlookers, I found solace not in taking to the streets protesting, writing inflammatory Facebook messages or canvasing my neighborhood with #Blacklivesmatter pamphlets.

Instead, I eased my 8-month-pregnant body into a lawn chair in our backyard as my two and four-year-old frolicked around shirtless in the silently drifting cottonwood seeds. My hand on my belly, my unborn son twisted and turned and I amusedly watched my bump ripple with life. I lay my head back, closed my eyes, and drank in the musical laughter of my innocent children and allowed the summer Colorado sun to press her hot hand on my face. And just as a duty is sometimes perfunctorily done, I dutifully gave thanks for that solitary moment.

Thomas Merton writes, “No despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there…” There is delight to be had. It is our duty to notice and give thanks for it even when it is the last thing we feel like doing. It is our duty to delight.

A music director sings this song in dark days,

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change and though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains quake at is swelling pride. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy dwelling places of the Most High. God is in the midst of her, we will not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns. The nations made an uproar, the kingdoms tottered; He raised His voice, the earth melted. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah.” Psalm 46: 1-7

God is still in our midst. He is with us. He is our stronghold. His streams of gladness cut through our weary land. Selah. Pause and rest in that truth.

We have a duty not to run away, bury our heads in the ground or shield ourselves from suffering just because we don’t like how it makes us feel. How can we love when we have our eyes squeezed shut? Don’t turn off the news, but sit with it, internalize it, and then talk to God about it. Is there anything He wants you do?

It is our duty to see.

And we have a duty to act when it is in our power to do so.

But we also have a duty to delight. And it is a beauty-from-ashes kind of delight. A resurrection song that rings out only as we die to our self-centeredness and the world’s empty promises of peace. Ours is a peace in spite of, not because of. It’s a joy that skims along the surface of the storm, catching the wind, riding it and finding that—amazingly–it’s possible not to sink after all. But this is only through hope in Someone that keeps us from being trampled by fear.

In the hours before Jesus is crucified, He speaks these words to his followers, “Therefore you too have grief now; but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you” (Jn. 16:22).

No one. Nothing. Will take your joy away from you. Do you believe that?

Friends, our God is stronger. Hatred and fear cannot steal our joy, quench our love or extinguish our light. Our duty is to keep our eyes pried open even in the pain and do what we can in our communities to alleviate suffering and injustice. But it is also our duty—whether we feel like it our not–to delight.

~~~

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~~~

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The Invention of Wings Book Club Discussion Questions

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I once was (color) blind, but now…

70+ Race Resources for White People