Five Questions We Must Wrestle With

If you search for the question mark symbol in any Bible software, you will discover several things:

1) There are roughly 2,540 questions found in the Bible (at least in the King James Version, which is what I searched), with 1,710 in the Old Testament and 830 in the New Testament. 

2) The book of Job has the most questions, coming in with a whopping 230 questions. Luke, John and Matthew follow suit behind Job with 145, 144, and 143 questions, respectively. 

3) Of the 66 books in the Bible, only 5 ask no questions: 2 Timothy, Titus, 2 John, 3 John, and Jude.

Over twenty-five hundred questions.

That seems like an awful lot of questions to me.

Maybe because I do not consider myself a naturally curious person, nor am I a good question-asker. I remember once in college, mentioning to a friend of mine, “Why does it always seem we spend a lot of our time and conversations talking about me?” His response? “Because you never bother to ask any questions about me.” Zing. It’s just not my instinct to ask a lot of questions. Probably because a vast majority of the time I just don’t simply care enough, which I hate admitting. And if I’m really honest, I’m too self-absorbed at times to really want to open my eyes to the lives of others. I also hate admitting to that as well. I've had to learn to develop the skill over time of asking good questions, of being intentional and mindful in conversations with others, making a point to prompt and pursue. There is a certain art form to the skill, and more often than not, my abilities are woefully lacking. That’s why people who are curious, ever asking questions and wanting to know more, astound me. And not just asking any ol’ lame series of questions, but asking thoughtful and meaningful questions. I envy that talent.

It’s also why sometimes Jesus flat out does not make sense to me.

For a guy who supposedly knows it all, he asks a lot of questions.

Consider the gospel of John, for instance.

In that book there are 144 questions, roughly 51 of which Jesus himself asks, which means he is asking nearly 35% of the questions in the book.

Why? Why does the God who knows all things, sees all things, and understands all things, bother with asking questions? Doesn't that strike you odd? He certainly doesn't need to know the answers for himself. Asking the questions in no way increases his knowledge – he already knows everything there is to know. Asking the questions in no way changes his understanding or enhances his perspective – he already knows the answers long before we ever utter them.

So why does the God of the universe bother ever inquiring anything of anyone?

Because sometimes questions are far less about the one asking them and far more about the ones answering them.

There are a lot of questions we must answer in this life, although the specifics on which questions we answer will vary from person to person. We could dissect a lot of the questions Jesus asks in the Bible, but I believe there are 5 integral questions Jesus asks directly to his audience in the gospel of John, and by extension, five questions he asks of us as his followers:

1) “Do you want to get well?” (John 5:6)

2) “If I am telling the truth, why don’t you believe me?” (John 8:46)

3) “Will you really lay down your life for me?” (John 13:38)

4) “Don’t you know me, ever after I have been among you for such a long time?” (John 14:9)

5) “Is this your own idea or did others talk to you about me?” (John 18:34)

And when I say we must be willing to answer these 5 questions I really mean I must be willing to answer these questions.  I ask them of myself long before I ever ask them of others.

Let’s take the first one – “Do you want to get well?” In this particular instance, Jesus is asking it of a man who had been facing a disability of some sort for 38 years. Uh, Jesus, don’t you think a man who has been disabled for 38 years would like to be well? What kind of question is that? But Jesus knows this man – and knows us – and he knows that sometimes when we are sick for so long, we often decide it’s just easier to keep on living that way rather than doing the hard work of healing.

 And I think Jesus is ultimately not asking this man if he wants to be physically well, although that is part of it, he’s asking if the man wants to be mentally, emotionally and spiritually well. Sometimes it’s not our bodies that need healing, but our minds and hearts. When we live in certain sins, certain fears, certain hurts for so long, we decide they are just easier to live with than to live without them. We wear them like a security blanket, more terrified of being whole and healthy than we are of being whatever sickness and debilitation we might have presently, physical or otherwise.

To the second question – “If I am telling the truth, why don’t you believe me?” If Jesus is telling the truth, why don’t we believe him? In not believing him, then we hold that the converse is true: he is a liar. He’s either one or the other – he’s either telling the truth and we must believe him, or he’s lying and we should walk away from him. But we believe him to be telling the truth, right? At least we pay lip service to believing him anyway. Our lives and our actions so often say otherwise. We must deal with this root of unbelief that so many of us harbor. Hold up. I probably shouldn't speak for anyone else; I must deal with this root of unbelief that I harbor. Because if I really, truly think he is telling the truth, then I must oust all other options contrary to believing him.

To the third question – “Will you really lay down your life for me?” Perhaps this one is toughest to answer, the one we least want to answer. Will we really lay down our lives for him, to sacrifice all that we have and all that we are to follow him? This is the question I am most likely to avoid because the answer is the one I most want to skip over. It’s the question that leaves us the most uncomfortable, I think especially for North American Christians. For the most part, we have no concept of what it means to literally lay down our lives for the sake of Jesus and the gospel, at least relative to the rest of the world. Oh, we have this hazy vague notion of it and we think we know what it means, but we think fasting from Starbucks for a month is the same as laying down our lives for Jesus. We must be willing to confront this question head on – even if the answer scares us.

To the fourth question – “Don’t you know me, even after I have been among you for such a long time?” Some of us have followed Jesus for quite some time. And yet we still find ourselves plagued with doubts and worries, living in bondage to our fears and insecurities. It’s a question of insult – we are insulting his very nature when we doubt him and shake our fists at him, demanding he behave. Don’t we know who he is, even after he has been with us for so long and shown himself faithful time and again? Don’t we know how far he has carried us, through each and every season of our lives? Don’t we know that the God who commands the waves to cease and the rains to dry up is still the one who is very aware of our every heartbeat, our every care, and our every concern? How do we not know all of that by now? What fools we are! How quickly we forget! He has been with us for such a long time and has never given us reason to doubt him, yet we who have been with him for such a long time have such a short memory.

And to the last question – “Is this your own idea or did others talk to you about me?” Have you sought out Jesus for yourself, or are you hoping to get a second-hand helping of him? Are you hoping through some form of osmosis that you pick up some idea of Jesus through your pastor or your Bible study leader or some podcast? There are a lot of people saying a lot of things about Jesus, but are you coming up with your own ideas about Jesus? Are you exploring the Word for yourself? Not that our pastors and Bible study leaders and podcasts and whatever other materials out there are bad, but neither are they to be the ultimate, and neither are we to be dependent on them for our spiritual nourishment and the formation of our theology. You want to know Jesus? Then go to the source Himself.

Uncomfortable questions, aren't they? At least they are for me. I’d really prefer to gloss over most of them. But Jesus doesn't ask these questions for his benefit – he asks them for our benefit. And that means we have to be willing to wrestle with them, to deal with all of the doubt and unbelief they may or may not reveal. We have to allow these questions to reveal who we really are. For we are just like the man beside the pool, sick in our depravity for decades on end, claiming that we have done everything we can to get to the healing waters, claiming there is no one there to help us. It is only when we look up and find the Healing Waters standing right there before us, asking us, “Do you want to get well?” that we find out just how bad we want to answer that question with “Yes, I want to get well."

How a Football Game is Like Going to Church

Josh and me taking a selfie with Kirk Herbstreit

Sports Illustrated recently conducted a poll asking football fans what football is more important than.  Over 26% said football was more important than religion.  Twenty.six.percent.  Y'all.  A quarter of the population.  

I witnessed this first hand yesterday.  

  

I managed to snag tickets to this year's rivalry game between Ohio State and Michigan.  I have been to other OSU games, but I had not witnessed this storied rivalry in person.  I had debated for awhile about who to take with me, when I remembered the fact I have two brothers.  The only dilemma being I had one ticket.  I realized this could get dicey.  I tried to play it as objectively as I could, texting both of them asking if they had previously been to the OSU-Michigan game before.  One had, the other hadn't.  Perfect.  Problem solved without resorting to a coin toss or a domestic dispute.    

We hopped on an early bus down to campus, sparing ourselves the hassle of parking.  We wandered over to the set of Game Day and then headed to St. John Arena for the Skull Session.  We people watched for awhile before heading to our seats, settling in for what proved to be an epic game.  

As we sat watching the game, crammed shoulder to shoulder with a record crowd of 110,045 people, I had the sudden and involuntary realization that going to a football game is a lot like going to church.  I know, an odd connection to make.  And probably a slightly irreverent one, but roll with me here.  Allow me to present to you this tongue-in-cheek list of similarities I reflected on yesterday amidst first downs (even if one of them was highly disputed) and touchdowns:  

1) There are a lot of lost people at church and at a football games.  My brother and I watched one poor soul go looking for his seat a few rows below us.  He started to climb over people, realizing that none of them looked familiar, and then he realized he wasn't in the right place.  He stood in the aisle, looking up and down the section, pulled out his ticket stub to verify, muttering under his breath, and he still couldn't figure it out.  So then he just stood there and drank his beer for a few, acting like he knew exactly what he was doing.  I'm not sure if he ever found his seat or not. 

2) You get the occasional unsolicited hug and handshake.  My brother sat next to a slightly tipsy young alum who felt the need to side hug my brother in celebration of Ohio State scoring, with the occasional slap on the back.  I don't know that my brother was a fan of those moments.  I'm also not a fan of the the blasted "turn and greet your neighbor" moments at church.  Thankfully my church has done away with them and I will be forever grateful.  I just think they are awkward and I groan out loud every time I am subjected to them.  Just ask anybody sitting around me at the time.  

3) Sometimes tacos get served at church events and dinners.  Taco definitely got served yesterday.

4) There's a lot of standing and then sitting, and then standing again, and then sitting again.  'Bout the time I sat down yesterday at the game is about the time everyone around me felt the need to stand up, so up I went.  And then we'd all sit down.  And then somebody would make a play, so then we'd all stand up.  If you've been to church, you know exactly what I'm talking about.  

5) Group singing.  At football games we feel the need to sing things like "Hang on Sloopy."  No different than church where we sing the same song on refrain for about 4 verses.

6) Praying. Lots and lots and lots of praying.  And then some more prayers.  God clearly heard the prayers of Buckeye fans yesterday.  

7) Running around and waving flags.  If you're a little more on the charismatic side of faith, you'll get this one.  At the start of every Ohio State game, they send their cheerleaders and pep squad running around the field with flags.  We also add fireworks at our games, and I don't know of any churches that have those, but they should maybe consider adding those sometime.  Make for some real serious moments with the Spirit.  

8) You give tithes and offerings.  At football games, this means paying $9 for a cup of hot chocolate.  Which also happened to be the same price of a premium beer.  Welcome to a college football game in November in a cold northern state.  You'll definitely have to pass the offering bags to be able to afford this one.

9) It's a pain to get in and out of the parking lot.  You know you've been to that church where they have their own cop stationed out in the road, just to direct traffic and get everybody in and out safely.  At least we don't pay to pay $20 to park, unlike at football games.  My brother and I did spot a sign for parking spots down near the stadium.  For $100.  All proceeds went to charity, of course.  

10) We've got a band leading worship.  Ours just does it with a little more flare than most bands.

11) There's lots of hand-raising and waving.  My brother and I started to take stock of the varieties of waves and fist-shaking that occur in a game.   You've got the windshield wipers.  You've got the awkward beauty-pageant style waves.  You've got the abrupt wavers whose arms suddenly bolt into the air like they've been shocked with a bolt of electricity.  Tim Hawkins' hand-raising video could easily apply to football games. 

12) There are occasional outbursts of spontaneous yelling.  At football games it's usually the f-bomb when our team screws up.  One guy behind us felt the need to yell at Urban Meyer a lot.  "Open up the playbook, Urban!"  "Turn the page of the playbook, Urban!"  He just kept saying that over and over again.  I kind of wanted to tell him to come up with a new line.  Yell all you want, but geez, at least change it up every now and then.  At church it's usually "amen" and "preach it."

13) Sometimes you hit overtime. You know, as the Spirit so moves.  Except when you hit overtime during a church service, most people are starting to wonder where they are going to eat for lunch.  When we hit overtime yesterday against Michigan, my brother and I wondered if we should stay in case the game turned in our favor, or whether to go so we could beat the crowd should the game descend into a loss.  Glad we stayed.    

14)  There is the occasional shoving match.  In football games, these are usually between 250-pound linemen, broken up by referees.  In church, these are usually between 25-pound toddlers, broken up by preschool teachers.

15) Inevitably there are penalty flags. Most penalty flags in church get thrown when you find someone sitting in your seat.  The same seat you have sat in for the last decade.  How could these people not know that was your seat?!  Totally a penalty. 

16) Play calling.  On the sidelines this usually looks like a string of guys standing next to each other , all looking like they had a bee fly down their pants.  In church, this is the worship leader trying to subtly to signal to the band repeat the chorus a few more times.  You know, a hand in the air here, a few raised eyebrows there, a vigorous head nod to emphasize the point.

17) Who doesn't love a good half-time show?  This is also called coffee and donuts at church.  This is where everybody scatters to get some sustenance before returning to their seats for the remainder of the game.  

18) There's always the occasional headset malfunction or problem.  Thankfully I haven't seen my pastor do this yet when he's annoyed with his hands-free microphone.

Like I said, going to a football game is just like going to church.  

Better luck next year, Michigan.  Drink some milk in the meantime.  It does a body good.      

Permission to Long

Ah, the holidays. How I love you and occasionally dislike you. You conjure up feelings of nostalgia and romanticism and sentimentality. While simultaneously conjuring up feelings of annoyance and a deep desire to vow to abstain from all future family gatherings and holiday hubbub. What exactly is it about the holidays that so effortlessly brings out the crazy in us all? And what exactly is it about the holidays that make us single folks feel a little unhinged? 

I’d like to be married right now. Or maybe at least have a boyfriend. The holidays seem to resurrect that feeling more so now than any other time of the year. I occasionally need someone to kill the bugs in my apartment (seriously, I mildly freak out over the house centipedes that take up residence in my little space), deal with my car when it needs repairs, send me flowers when I’m having a crappy day (or even when I’m not), buy me a pie from Just Pies when I least expect it, be my bodyguard when I’m traveling overseas, and generally be my knight in shining armor. 

Alas, there is no boyfriend and no husband on the horizon line.

And I think far too often it’s easy for those of us who are single to look around at all that we don’t have, namely a ring on our left hand and a new last name, and want to just camp out in sadness over that fact. I made a decision a long time ago I didn’t want to join that camp. Certainly not because I don’t want those things. I do. I deeply desire them. I just know those things will never complete me or satisfy me.    

Maybe your story is a little different, and maybe marriage isn’t what you long for because you’re already married. Or maybe you’re longing for a different career. Or maybe a different life in a different city with a different start. Or maybe children scampering around the foot of your bed. Or maybe a home to call your own instead of a stuffy apartment or your parents’ basement. Or maybe a different family with a little less insanity.   

We’ve all got them, these things we long for, these things we desire and hope to see come to fruition.

Somewhere along the way, though, a few of us have made the mistake of equating desire with destiny. “Because I want this and have this desire in my heart, therefore, that must mean God will give it to me. I wouldn’t feel this way unless God was going to do something about it. If he wasn't going to give it to me, he would take the desire away.”

Just because I want to be married doesn’t mean God is going to give me a husband. One does not automatically equal another. Not to say that he won’t, but it also doesn’t mean that he will. Desire does not equal destiny.
   
But what am I to do about that? What am I to do with the longings that roll around in my heart and my head, and not just longings for a husband, but also the random assortment of other things I long for? Am I just supposed to squelch them? Am I supposed to stuff them down and never speak of them and never bring them to the surface? Am I to deny what I feel?

I believe the answer is no ultimately. No, I am not to squelch them, to act like those longings don’t exist. No, I am not to deny them. No, I am not to just shake my fist at God and say how dare you not give this to me when this is all I've wanted.

But I am to place them properly in God’s hands. Safely and rightly where they belong. Because I realized something the other day: I do have permission to long for these things. I have permission to place them before God, to ask Him for these things, to pray for these things. However, I am to remember if there is anything I long for, it is ultimately an echo and a reflection of a much larger story being told about longing. Paul emphasizes this in 2 Timothy 4:8, “Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."

If we long for anything, let us long for Jesus’ appearing. And let us remember that the longing highlighted in 2 Timothy is the banner that hangs high above all other longings, the longing that is written deep into our hearts.     

If we long for another life, different from the one we have, it’s because we know in our hearts, there’s another life yet to be lived, an eternal life. 

If we long for a permanent home, it’s because we know there is a home waiting for us, an eternal home.  

If we long for a wedding day, it’s because we know there is a true marriage waiting for us, one where we will sit down to a feast and celebrate forever and ever.

If we long for a husband, it’s because in our hearts we know there’s already a groom, an Eternal One.

If we long for perfection, it’s because in our hearts we know there is One who is perfect. 

If we long to never grow old, to never age, to never wither, it’s because we know in our hearts there is a life unending waiting for us. 

If we long to belong, to fit in somewhere, it’s because we know we’re all orphans, up for adoption, but gladly welcomed into the family of Jesus Christ. 

If we are longing for a body that works and doesn’t creak when we get out of bed in the morning, it’s because we know one day there will be a body that never fails. 

Whatever is deficient in us here, or whatever longings we might have on this side of heaven, they are there as echoes, indicators and reminders of a greater reality.

We have permission to long for a home, a family, a child, a sense of belonging, a wedding day, a husband – to desire things that reflect the heart of the Father. 

But hold to them loosely. Hold them with open hands and trust if there is ever a longing tucked inside our hearts, it's a longing that should point us to the Keeper of all that we have ever hoped and longed for: Jesus.

Duct Tape: For My Good and God's Glory

You know that Liberty Mutual commercial, with that girl and her car named Brad?   

"You owned a car for 4 years. You named it Brad. You loved Brad. And then you totaled him. You two had been through everything together. 2 boyfriends, 3 jobs.  Nothing could replace Brad. Then Liberty Mutual calls, and you break into your happy dance."

I have heard her voice a lot in my head in the past week or so.

I don't have a car named Brad. It doesn't have a name at all, actually.  I don't have Liberty Mutual.  And I definitely haven't ever totaled my car.  But I did do a happy dance thanks to duct tape and my dad. 

My car and I have been through a lot together.  We'll say 1.5 boyfriends. Moves to three different states.  113,000 miles logged, crisscrossing the eastern half of the US.  One transmission replacement.  Four jobs.  One collision with Bambi.  We'll celebrate our ten-year anniversary this December. She's been a trusty car.

But I'm starting to see the writing on the wall.  I imagine a new vehicle is on the horizon within the next year or so. 

You know, when your car starts to age, you normally expect engine parts to fail or come tumbling out the bottom.

You don't expect entire windows to fall out. 

I was over to a friend's house this past Sunday, outside chatting in the driveway.  We were standing next to the rear of my car, and I happened to notice the decal in my rear window was a bit crooked.  I figured I might as well fix it while we're standing there.  I pop the lever for the window, and as I go to raise it, the whole right side of the window just slides down into my hands.  The left corner is still attached, but I'm standing there holding the right side, with the top right hinge having totally come undone.  I may or may not have sworn under my breath. 

I looked at my friend with this look that basically said, "What the h#*&?"  We fool around with it for a bit, and I'm wondering how on earth I'm going to fix this thing, or how I'm even going to drive it because I can't exactly drive around with just the one corner attached.  The pressure and the weight would shear off the remaining hinge, so I really just had no clue what I was going to do.

My friend's husband, Dave, came around and looked at it.  He also muttered a few swear words.  I called my dad to get his input on what to do, and before I get off the phone, out came Dave with a roll of packing tape and duct tape.  "We'll just duct tape the window down," he said. 

I was skeptical of this approach, but you know what they say - when all else fails, use duct tape. 

So, duct tape it we do. 

We slapped enough duct tape and packing tape on there for me to drive the few miles back to my parents' house so my dad can take a look at it.  I think I white-knuckled it the whole way there, just envisioning the tape busting and glass shattering all over the road. 

My dad, being the very practical and ingenious man that he is, hillbilly-rigged a few things together and basically drilled a hole in the existing hinge and bolted everything together.  The original bolt had completed corroded and basically turned to chalk. 

After he fixed it, and while driving back to my apartment, I began imagining all the ways this could have gone wrong otherwise.  I could have been on the road instead of standing in a drive way when that window decided to pop out.  It could have gone flying, hit another car, caused an accident, done some serious harm to others.  There had been tentative plans for me to be in Missouri, and if I had followed my original plans, I would have been driving back from Missouri on the day this happened.  I could have been hundreds of miles from home with no rear window and no clue how to repair it myself.  This could have played out so different.  

I was thanking Jesus profusely all the way home.  So grateful I was where I was when it fell out, that I was with friends.  Grateful my dad knows how to use a drill and generally how to fix a whole lot of random things. 

And thank God for duct tape.  The Bible says God uses everything together for my good, right? 

Turns out duct tape is no exception.

 

Let's just hope I don't have to use it to hold any other parts of my car together anytime in the near future. 

Wyoming 2016: The Greatest Hits

 Ah, Jackson Hole, how you slay me. 

When I went to Wyoming one year ago, I didn't fully realize the love affair that would commence. 

I just got back less than 12 hours ago from two weeks in my very favorite place in the whole wide world, and I already miss it.  I traveled the first week with my friend Kristen, mostly through Yellowstone before we ended up in Bozeman, Montana. After I shipped her back to the East Coast, I kept on trucking through Idaho and then back over to Jackson. 

I realize probably no one else is going to want to listen to me drone on about all things Jackson Hole and the Grand Tetons, so for you, my dear readers, I made you a list.  Think of it like a greatest hits.  This is the abbreviated version of the things that stood out to me about the trip - favorite moments, favorite memories, things I don't want to forget.  Here I present to you my top 30 moments of the last two weeks, in no particular order:

1) Watching a female elk swim a small channel at Yellowstone Lake.  It just seemed like an unique wildlife moment.  Most elk we saw were busy eating grass or sleeping, which is kind of boring to watch.  But here was this one doggie-paddling her way through the water. 

View from Driggs AirBnB, Tetons

in the background

2) Watching a buffalo jump over a 5-foot fence.  Yes, these hefty beasts can haul their fat rears over fences with little effort.  I was driving along and saw this lone buffalo walking along a fence line.  He stopped, pivoted, and then he hopped over the fence, as if he was some elegant little deer.  I have no photographic proof, but this guy does.  He's the chef at Turpin Meadow, amazing photographer. 

3) The "Owl Barn" in Driggs, the little AirBnB I rented for two nights. I felt like I won the AirBnB lottery.  I couldn't stop taking pictures of the view, which overlooked the west side of the Tetons.  I loved, loved, loved this place.  If you're ever in Driggs, this is a must-stay!  A couple had taken this old barn and converted the upstairs into an apartment, with this little gothic-shaped window, allowing a perfect overlook.  I wish I had stayed longer.  We also did an AirBnB in Jackson and Bozeman. It's just a great way to travel.  Your budget will thank you also. 

4) Teton Public Library.  I know.  Who goes to the public library when they're on the vacation? I do.  I love libraries.  And Teton PL did not let me down.  I almost started crying when I walked in.

5) Taking pictures at Schwabacker's Landing.  Beautiful. 

6) Meeting Shari Turpin of Pearls by Shari. Delightful, Jesus-loving woman, married to the man who gave me his business card last year and said to call him if I ever wanted a job in Jackson.   

7) Meeting random families while I was by myself the second week, which I may not have done otherwise if I had been with others.  I took the tram up to the top of the mountain at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, where I met one whirlwind of a family.  They had three young boys and one little girl.  The boys were named Bear, Maverick and Gunner.  The little girl, strapped in a backpack on her dad's back, was simply named Grace.  Dad clearly had the naming rights on the boys.  I would not be surprised if someday they have a fourth boy and name him Goose.  

8) Getting caught in a hail storm driving up Signal Mountain.  We made an abrupt turn around, especially given that we had zero hail coverage on our rental. 

9) Hiking Old Faithful and the Upper Geyser Basin at sunset with hardly a soul around.  We had the whole place practically to ourselves.  And the sunset colors were amazing. 

10) Wearing my winter hat, gloves, scarf, and several layers of clothes while it was in the 90s in Ohio.  Bring on colder weather, I say. Summer is by far my least favorite season. 

11) Driving through the barley fields of eastern Idaho.  No better sight than farm lands for this country girl. 

12) Getting a free upgrade to a Toyota Tundra.  The rental place was slammed when we arrived, so they offered to upgrade us for free to a pickup truck from an economy car since they didn't have economy cars left apparently.  I wanted to do a happy dance.  It was no Ford, but I sure as heck will take a truck over an economy car, that's for sure.  You don't have to ask me twice. 

13) Watching Kristen try to get off her horse, Curtis, after a 4-hour ride.  Sorry, friend, I know it was a bit rough, but that was pretty darn hilarious.  I personally have never been so happy to get off a horse before in my life.  Great ride with great views, but my heavens, I was so desperate to climb out of that saddle. 

14) Being back at Turpin Meadow Ranch.  Holds a special place in my heart. 

15) Driving through the Tetons, just to drive. 

16) Art - lots and lots and lots of art.  Jackson hosted their Fall Arts Festival, which was one of the reasons why I stuck around an extra week.  Gah, so many galleries.  I would spend hours just walking through the galleries, mentally tallying just how broke I could go if I bought all the pieces I wanted.  And look, this is not some chintzy arts and crafts fair we're talking about here.  We're talking some of the greatest modern-day western and wildlife artists and photographers around today, with pieces selling for $50,000 or more.  Deb Fox. Cole Johnson.  September Vhay. Amy Ringholz. Micqaela Jones.  Gary Crandall.  Tom Mangelsen.  Troy Collins.  I could go on and on.  These are simply my favorites.

17) Time alone. 

18) Time with Donnie and Pat Critcher, friends of Kristen.  Donnie is a storyteller, and a good one.  He regaled us with stories of his former days spent as a cobbler.  Hilarious. 

19) Aspen trees in the fall.  I can't get enough of these trees.

20) After seeing ZERO moose in all of Yellowstone and the Tetons, I spotted one in someone's yard in Jackson.  Just chillin', munching on grass. 

21) Doing laundry.  Small thing, but it was nice just to get some laundry done half-way through the trip. 

22) National Museum of Wildlife Art.  Chocked full of amazing works. 

23) Buying a $10 fleece pullover from a shop in Jackson.  I lived in that thing for pretty much the remainder of the trip. 

Sunrise at West Thumb, overlooking Yellowstone Lake

24) Sunrise at West Thumb with an elk herd around.  There were maybe 10 people there, and given that parts of Yellowstone can be a MAJOR cluster during peak hours, this is proof that it pays to get up early.  Less people, more wildlife.

25) Buffalo in Hayden Valley.   So serene.  Very Dances with Wolves kind of moment.

26)  The architecture of Old Faithful Inn.  Just stunning. 

27) Snow!  It snowed up in the higher elevations the second week.  Yellowstone got around 6-8 inches and some of the roads closed.  Jackson got mostly rain, which was a relief actually because they desperately needed the precipitation to douse the wildfires ravaging the mountainside. 

28) Basil chicken sandwich at Jackson Hole Roasters, one of my favorite places to eat in Jackson.  So good I went two days in a row.

29) Purchasing my first can of bear spray. And thankfully not having to use it. 

30) Driving through Montana and Idaho in a pickup, windows down, country music blaring.  Pure bliss. 

And bonus!  I didn't get mistaken for a boy this time around!

PS: My selfie-taking skills have not improved. 

My awesome selfie skills on display with the resident cat at

Turpin Meadow Ranch.

To My Niece

Eighteen years ago next month I was baptized in a tiny country church. The same church where my brothers were baptized. The same church where my parents were baptized. (Well, technically my dad was baptized in a creek by the same name as the church, so close enough.) The walls of that country church have probably borne witness to several generations of my family getting baptized, even beyond my brothers and my parents.

 
And now I’m watching my oldest niece, Grace, make that same decision to get baptized. Different church, different city, same end result: our public declaration of our “yes” to Jesus.

A lot has happened in the 18 years since I took that plunge. I started out those 18 years convinced that following Jesus was going to be nothing but mountaintop experiences. That expectation got me into a lot of trouble and I’ve had to learn some lessons the hard way. Don’t get me wrong – the life spent following Christ is full of mountaintops. But my faith was dependent on those “spiritual highs", which left me disillusioned and angry more often than not.

But I have also encountered a God I am convinced is real. A God who is bigger than I ever dared imagine, a God who is scandalously gracious and long-suffering, especially with this girl who has got a seriously thick head.

So, my dearest Grace, I’m sad I can’t be there to witness your baptism in the next couple of weeks. In lieu of being there physically, can I share with you here what I want for you in your next 18 years (and beyond) based on some of my own lessons learned along the way?

I want you to want Jesus more than you want the approval and love of young men, more than the desire to fit in among your peers, more than the desire to get good grades, more than the desire to somehow measure up to the girls around who you think are more beautiful than you. Because when you want Jesus more than you want any of those things, you’ll soon find that all of those things don’t really matter anyway.

I want you to run as hard and as fast as you can to him, and just when you think you’ve reached him, I want you to run even harder and lean in even closer.

I want you to fall in love with his Word, to need it like you need air. Let the pages of Scriptures be the lifeline you need when you feel like you’re sinking, the balm you need when you feel like your wounds are too deep to ever heal again, the oxygen you need when you feel like your lungs are gasping for air. 

I want you love others lavishly and fully, neither putting them on a pedestal where they don’t belong nor condemning them for their brokenness. I have done both and I have paid a price for both. Don’t be like me and be stingy with your grace and mercy. 

I want you to explore the world around you, to travel at every opportunity that comes your way. (I realize your parents may not appreciate this piece of advice so much, especially if that means you’re frequently on the other side of the world.) Run headlong into the hurts of this world, and allow yourself to ache just a little in light of those hurts. Those hurts will keep you grounded in reality. When you encounter people and cultures and places that are altogether different from you, you will find your heart a bit fuller and your eyes opened a bit wider.

I want you to seek sexual purity and fight for it with everything you’ve got. This world is jacked up, and it has got some views on sexual and emotional purity that just leave me slack-jawed. Don’t buy what the world is selling when it comes to promiscuity. I promise you, I promise you, I promise you – God’s ways are always better than the world’s ways when it comes to dating, relationships and marriage. And if some boy comes along and tries to tell you it’s any different, feel free to leave his sorry rear in the dust and you run for your dear life. You are worth more.

I want you to hold loosely to your perception of who you think God is. Because you’ll find out that he’s nothing like what you think. He said in Isaiah 55, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.” He’s not love like you think of love, and he’s not kind like you think of kind, and he’s not just like you think of just. There will be days when you will want to shake your fist at him, curse him for allowing certain things to occur in your life. He will do things that make absolutely no sense at the time, and you’ll wonder if he’s really still on the throne. But fight so very hard and resist the urge to become bitter and resentful. Let your view of him get bigger with each passing year, not smaller. May your faith be based on who he is, not what he does. Who is he is unchanging, but he may choose in his sovereignty to allow certain things to come about that he may not have allowed in the lives of others. Trust his heart.

But do you know what I want for you more than anything? 

I want you to want Jesus more than anything. 

I want him to be your one magnificent obsession.

It won’t come easy, and it won’t come without pain. Following Jesus is never easy and it’s never convenient. Just because we make a decision to follow him doesn’t mean that life suddenly becomes full of sunshine, rainbows and unicorns. I have found that following Jesus is less about the mountaintops and a little bit more about the valleys. Because it’s in the valleys you find exactly how much grit and determination you have, and just how far you really are willing to follow him. If I could grant you a spiritual inheritance, I would want to hand you a very large helping of tenacity, because it will be tenacity that keeps you holding on to him, even in the moments when you’re convinced you want to let go.

I’ll leave you with this, a quote I have taped to my kitchen cabinet, a daily reminder that Jesus is all I’ll ever need. And he’s all you’ll ever need. Love you and so proud of you.

“You were created in the image of the Almighty God and you have a very brief window of time on Planet Earth, a very short opportunity, and in that window you have a chance to use your life to bring glory to God and to fall in love with Jesus. And here’s the deal: if you get what you want when you want it, most often neither one of those things is going to happen. But in the waiting, that’s where God gets the glory and in the waiting we learn that Jesus is really all we have and all we need.” - Louie Giglio

I Can Now Sleep at Night

It took five years, but my friend Ben finally got my memo.  

Our daily countdown, including Lyrics of the Week

I first saw Ben Rector in concert in May 2011. I hadn't heard of the guy prior to that, and then my friend Jill and I went to see Matt Wertz in concert in Nashville. Ben was opening up for Matt, and I left that show as Ben's newest fan. Just a stellar singer and songwriter.

We saw Ben a second time back in 2013 at a show down in Cincinnati.  Best concert I have ever been to.  I was sicker than a dog, but he was worth overcoming the slight delirium I was experiencing at the time.  He had just released his Walking in Between album, which was chocked full of excellent tunes, one of which is the song "Sailboat".  Probably one of my all-time favorite songs of his. (And his sidekick, Cody Fry, is amazing in his own right.)

And then.

And then the stars aligned, God heard our prayers, and Ben decided to come to Columbus this past week to kick off his "The Biggest Tour I Have Done So Far Tour".

Bless you, Ben.

Jill and I pounced on the tickets as soon as we could.

And then we decided to mark the occasion by counting down to the concert.  We started a couple of months ago, and every day, we updated the days, watching the calendar tick closer and closer to the big day.

And then he announced his VIP package deal.  We didn't take long to think about that one before we bought the upgrade.  I mean, who can turn down a VIP package that includes chocolate chip cookies? We got early admission to the show, a private pre-show acoustic performance, photo with Ben, signed tour poster, and a snazzy VIP lanyard.

And then he had a Q&A.

This was my chance.

For years now I've been listening Ben play his song "The Beat."  Great song.

The man of the hour, Ben Rector

But the opening lines drive me bonkers because they make no sense. 

"Stand there lady / won't you just stand still / she's got a white Mercedes / and I know she will / And then the beat comes"

BEN.  I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS.

You know she will what?  And what does a white Mercedes have to do with anything?

I now had the chance to ask him what the heck he was thinking when he wrote those lines.

There was a small group of VIPs, maybe 60 or so people, so when he said the floor was open for questions, my hand shot up in the air.  The conversation went something like this:

Me:  Ben,  I love your song "The Beat."  But the opening lines make zero sense.  Please explain.

Ben: There's not much to explain.  I wrote that song as a junior in college, so my writing skills kinda sucked.  It doesn't really mean anything.  So, don't read into it or look for some deeper meaning.

Me: I can now sleep at night.  Thank you.
 
The night could have stopped there and I would have been satisfied.  And, of course, he played "Sailboat" during the pre-show, which also made things all that more amazing.

It was standing room only for the show, but we made it to the second row. Ben then put on one heck of a show.  My cup runneth over.

But Ben, do you think maybe you could come to Columbus a little more frequently?  I don't like this thing of only seeing you once every 2-3 years.  

Me and Jill with Ben during the pre-show meet and greet

The Mystery of the Utility Pole "Sweaters"

I kind of love my city.

I think I spent years trying to stay away from it, terrified of coming home and somehow winding up stuck. But after years of trekking around the country and the globe, I have become more and more partial to my town with each passing year.  Sometimes it works that the more you travel, the less appealing your hometown feels.  It can start to feel small and suffocating.  Or the reverse can be true, which is what happened in my case.  The more I traveled and the more I saw the world, the more I came to appreciate what was right in front me.  Years ago I was so resistant to come home to this place, but now I'm usually eager to get back.  My city isn't a giant city like Atlanta, LA or New York, all of which I don't mind visiting, but I have zero interest in ever living in such places.  Too many people, too many cars, too much traffic, and just generally too much.   My town is a nice mid-sized city, with plenty to do, but not so big you feel overwhelmed by it all.  You can reach the opposite side of the city within 25-30 minutes with minimal effort, and not want to commit an act of road rage in the process (generally speaking).  

And I love my neighborhood.  It's quiet, but still conveniently located to everything I need - library, work, grocery store, church, family, etc.  It's just a bus ride away from the downtown area, but maybe only a 30 minute drive to the wide open spaces of the country.  

But like every city, it has its quirks and its touch of character.

Take for instance these utility poles.


You're probably thinking, Why the heck are there bands of yarn wrapped around these things?

Good question.

I wondered the same thing.

I walk by them every time I go to the gym.  I noticed earlier this summer there was a string of 3-4 utility poles slowly being wrapped up in these "sweaters" of sorts.  The adjacent chain link fence was also acquiring little knitted flowers and potholders.  With each passing week, there would be more and more accessories added to the poles and fence.

I found it so perplexing, and for the life of me, I could not figure out why anyone would ever crochet these things just to wrap them around a utility pole.

I inquired with co-workers and friends, Any ideas why someone is stitching all this yarn for the utility poles?  The theories abounded.  It's an alien yarn cartel one co-worker said.  I myself wondered if it was some sort of secret code?  Some sort of sign to neighboring crocheting gangs - Back off! This is our turf!  We'll knit you into a knot if you get close!  Was it a signal for some sort of top secret ops?  I mean, I really had no idea why someone would go to these lengths to create this stuff and then just wrap it around a random post.

So I decided to leave a note for this mythical knitter.

To the person who is knitting "sweaters" for the utility poles,

I walk by here often and noticed the growing collection of colorful items making their way around the poles and chain link fences.  Just out of curiosity  - why? 

Sincerely, 
Puzzled observer

I slipped my note into a Ziploc bag so it wouldn't get wet should it rain, tacked it to a utility pole a couple of weeks ago and awaited an answer.

No response.

Few more days.

No response.

And then!  

To my surprise, a note in return!  I nearly started jumping up and down right there on the sidewalk, abnormally and oddly giddy that this little exchange of letters between strangers was occurring.  

Puzzled observer,

Loved your question! There isn't just one answer to explain the motivation behind the yarn bombing.  That's what it's called - it's a real thing! So I'll run down the list:

• I'm for all for anything that causes a driver to lift their foot from the pedal - even if slightly - to take pause and slow down.  Especially here where the curbs are non-existent.  
• I always felt this stretch of sidewalk with the chain link fence could use a little fun.
• My grandmother grew up and was a 1920s flapper in this same neighborhood I now call home.  She taught me how to knit and crochet as a small girl. I like to think a little of her is in every stitch.  
• I like to knit and crochet, but I'm not skilled enough to make sweaters.  These are easier!  
• It keeps me out of the bars.  
• It makes me happy to think someone smiles because they like it or think it's silly.

Enjoy your walks!

Sincerely,

Knitting and crocheting 

Mystery solved!  I haven't decided if I'll write another note in return - not sure what I would say other than Thanks for adding a curious little mystery to my life!  

Who knew yarn-bombing was such a thing.  Makes my city that much more entertaining.  And we all need a little mystery in our lives now and then.      

Homesick for a Place That Has Never Been Home

According to my countdown, I have roughly 53 days until I am back in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

The days can't fly by fast enough.

I'm heading back for two weeks in September, meeting up with my dear friend, Kristen.  We will spend the first week roaming the Tetons and Yellowstone, making our way from Jackson on up to Bozeman, Montana.  I then put her on a plane back to the East Coast while I stick around another week and hang out in Idaho for a couple of days, and then back to Jackson for the duration.  I fell head over heels in love with that corner of the world, and I don't think a single day has gone by since I got back that I haven't thought about Wyoming.  It captivated me in such a compelling and profound way, maybe more so than any other place in the world I've been to.  And I've been to my fair share of places.  

Isn't it curious, the places we have maybe never been to, or have visited only once, yet they still manage to beckon to us some like sort of Siren from the pages of Odyssey?  

I felt that way about Kenya for the longest time.  This strange, inexplicable attraction to it, even as a child.  I didn't fully understand it - and still don't - why I felt such a pull to that country, why I felt such an urge to hop on a plane and fly halfway around the world.  After I made the first trip and came home, I couldn't get the country off my mind.  I thought about that place incessantly, and did so nearly every day until I returned two years later. I felt like every waking moment was filled with a deep longing to return some day.

I feel that way now about Wyoming.  Like a homesick feeling.

Only Wyoming has never been home.

I think we all have those places, those corners of the world where we just feel like we belong, like we're coming home even though we know it's not really our home and never has been.  Maybe for you it's the secret hiding place at the park down the way.  Maybe it's the coffee shop around the corner.  Maybe it's the far reaches of some country so remote that it takes you two days, four planes, one bus, and one canoe to get there.  Maybe it's your favorite aunt's kitchen table two states away.  Wherever it is, it's the one place where you feel settled, like a piece of you clicked into place, and no matter what's happening in the world, you know you are right where you should be.   

That tells me something.

What I feel for Wyoming - that homesick feeling for a place that has never been home to me - tells me that I'm not meant for this world.  It tells me there is something buried deep inside of me - in all of us, really - that pokes at my heart, saying, "Hey - don't get too comfortable.  You don't really belong here.  This was never meant to be your home."  I think the longing we have for the places that have never been home to us are indicators of a larger story being told, one that speaks of eternity.

In Sheldon Vanauken's book A Severe Mercy, he exchanged a series of letters with famed Christian theologian and apologist, C.S. Lewis.  They were discussing the concept of time, reflecting on this idea that we were not meant to call this earth home:

C.S. Lewis asked how it was that I, as a product of a materialistic universe, was not at home there. 'Do fish complain of the sea for being wet? Or if they did, would that fact itself not strongly suggest that they had not always been, or would not always be, purely aquatic creatures?' Then, if we can complain of time and take such joy in the seemingly timeless moment, what does that suggest? It suggests that we have not always been or will not always be purely temporal creatures. It suggests that we were created for eternity. Not only are we harried by time, we seem unable, despite a thousand generations, even to get used to it. We are always amazed by it - how fast it goes, how slowly it goes, how much of it is gone. Where, we cry, has the time gone? We aren't adapted to it, not at home in it. If that is so, it may appear as proof, or at least a powerful suggestion, that eternity exists and is our home.

Homesickness is ultimately the fingerprint of God, embedding a longing for heaven deep within us.  Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, "[God] has also set eternity in the human heart."  When we're homesick - whether it's for the home we've known our whole lives, or for a place that we've merely seen pictures of, heck, even if it's a place that we have never fully identified, we just know there's something in us that longs for this unidentifiable place - we need to acknowledge it's just a symptom of a deeper sentiment:  we don't belong here.

You better believe I'm going to keep counting down the days until I am back on a plane and winging my way back to Jackson.  My new favorite quote as of late is from John Muir, "The mountains are calling, and I must go."  Every time I look at pictures from Jackson, my spirit groans within me, I just want to be there already.

The mountains are calling, and I must go.  But I'll let the longing for those mountains serve as a reminder:  This has never been home.  And never will be.        

Dear Younger Me

I recently finished reading the book I Don't Wait Anymore by Grace Thornton.  It messed with me - and continues to do so - in all sorts of good ways.  I began following her blog years ago, after a friend of mine had sent me a link to a post of Grace's that went viral, which also is where she gets her book title.  It is hands-down one of the single greatest treatise I've ever read on singleness and reflects my own sentiments. 

In her book, Grace posed the question to a friend, "If you had the chance to go back, what would you tell yourself, the college girl from ten years ago who thought she knew what life was about?"

Her friend, Amy, responded, " 'If I could go back, I would say, ‘Amy, that pathway to holiness, that journey to truly deep faith is a lot narrower than you think. And it starts, continues, and ends with a definitive love for the Word of God. I want you to know that what you love now is not really the Word. What you love is what other people tell you about the Word.  You love emotion and worship songs and books about God and the social aspect of church in college. But you do not love his Word. Not yet. That takes discipline and study and sacrifice. But you’ll get it.'"

Me, on the left, ten years ago, while living in Russia

for a summer

Amy's story is my story. All these things I thought I knew when I was in college.  I thought I knew Jesus then.  I thought I knew his Word, knew his people, knew what community and church and prayer and following him meant. 

I am learning more and more every day that I have absolutely no stinkin' clue about any of those things. 

So, to the me ten years ago? I have a few words for you...
 
Dear younger me:

You think you know Jesus.  And you think it's enough to live on yesterday's manna.  You still haven't figured out yet how to eat that manna every day, to gather it fresh, like God had instructed the Israelites while they wandered around the desert.  And every day you wonder why you just can't seem to pull it all together, why you can't seem to live in victory.  You wear your self-sufficiency like a badge of honor.  But it's that badge of honor that is costing you a more intimate relationship with Jesus.  Your independent streak robs you of knowing what it's like to depend fully on Him.  You have made picking yourself up by your bootstraps your higher calling instead of forgetting both the straps and the boots and deciding that trusting Jesus is a holy calling.  This is not the Girl Scouts and Jesus doesn't give out merit badges for people who decide they don't need him.  That's what hell is for.        

You let your insecurities rule you, and more often than not you choose to believe the lies over the truth. You've got to do double-time to defeat the schemes of the Enemy.  Take captive every thought and give it over to Christ, time and time and time again.  Get up, and do it again the next day and every day thereafter.  The Enemy will never relent, so neither can you.  Don't live in the discouragement, and don't spend so much time dwelling on all the things you got wrong, or should have said or done differently.  Reliving the past and hitting the replay button in your mind isn't going to do you any good.  Accept the grace given to you.  I know, grace feels awfully scary and uncertain.  You feel the need to earn whatever it is you're seeking, and grace feels like a handout, like you're being let off the hook.  It's not.  It's the scandalous love of a Savior who has repeatedly said, "My grace is sufficient for you."  You prove nothing by believing you are above or beyond this free gift.  

And that boy you thought you loved?  Let him go, sooner rather than later.  And close the gap between expectations and reality.  Those expectations will get you in to trouble if you don't deal with them.  Trust me, you don't want to spend the next seven years of your life wondering if he's going to show up on your doorstep and tell you what an idiot he was for letting you go.  He's not going to do that.  And that's okay.  Jesus has a better story coming.      
   
Embrace the introvert in you.  But don't let it become the justification for not engaging in the world around you.  Take chances and pursue the people, the strangers, the neighbors, the family around you.  You have much to learn from others, and they each have a story to tell.  Take time to listen well to the stories being told around you that are going unspoken.

Be quick to deal with your sins and your pride and your self-righteousness.  They are ugly things, those things that go unconfessed.  It's just easier to deal with them right away rather than letting them take root and become numb to your own depravity. 

You fixate and worry about all of the wrong things.  Either Jesus is who he says he is, or he isn't.  Make it a conscious choice every day to believe Him.   

Lastly, get over yourself. Fix your eyes on Jesus and life will get a whole lot easier.

P.S. Those black Chinese mesh slippers you love? Do yourself a favor and go ahead and buy them in bulk.  You'll wander 6 different countries with them, so just stock up now.      

Oh, and dear future me:
You've got a thick head, so I'm pretty sure you're still going to be learning these lessons in 10 years.  See above.