Day 26: The Joy of Music with Ben Rector

I am not much of a concert-goer except for one very obvious exception:

Ben Rector. 

If you're not familiar with him, the song you are most likely to know is his song "Brand New." It exploded on the charts and has been by far his biggest hit. 

Nashville's Exit/In in May, 2011, is where it all started for me. I was a big Matt Wertz fan, so my friend Jill and I picked up and went down to Nashville to see one of Matt's shows at Exit/In. We stayed in a super sketchy motel where we barricaded the door before we went to bed that night, but otherwise we spent the weekend exploring Nashville's West End and generally having a good time. Ben happened to open for Matt at that show and the first song I ever remember hearing of Ben's was "She Is." 

I was hooked.

Jill and me with Ben in 2016

From there, we saw him in October 2013, playing at Bogart's in Cincinnati. Tyrone Wells opened for him and tickets were all of $15. It was, without question, the best concert I've ever been to, Ben's or otherwise. I was sicker than a dog, and we bought the tickets on a lark just a day or two before the show. Jill had to do some convincing, but I'm glad she did. I was in a bit of fog from not feeling great, but Jill, ever the trooper, drove us down to Cincy, hustled us toward the front row, and man - what.a.show. It was worth the 2+ hour drive and totally worth sucking it up and dealing with not feeling great. 

After that, it was a bit of a dry spell before we saw him again. Three years later, in 2016, we finally saw him at the Newport Music Hall in Columbus. We splurged and bought VIP tickets, which got us into a pre-show acoustic performance, Q&A segment (I asked him a question about a very strange set of lyrics in his song "The Beat." His answer was underwhelming), a photo with Ben, and some killer cookies from Insomnia Cookies. Worth every penny. Also practically front row for that one. (Jill is a big fan of the front row.)

Next we saw him for free in Mason, Ohio, at a Fourth of July festival in 2017. We saw him again in September 2018 at Newport Music Hall, this time with one of his best buds, Cody Fry, opening for him. Cody is a phenomenal artist in his own right (as I will soon explain), so the two of them together on stage is pure magic.

Ben came back to Columbus last May - if you're keeping track, that's concert #6 for us! - and, of course, we couldn't miss it. When we've gone to previous shows, we've usually splurged and bought VIP tickets specifically so we could make sure we got in early and got a good spot. They didn't offer a VIP option at this show, so we decided to just make sure we got there early enough to get in line. Like good little concert-goers, we got downtown early, parked, and headed for the line. 

Except there was no line. 

There wasn't a soul around at the venue, and we seriously wondered for a split second if they had cancelled the show or if we were even at the right venue. Surely we are not the first people to get here?

Yep, we most certainly were the first ones there. We stood at the front of the line marveling at the fact that the 40-something-year-old and the almost-40-something-year-old were the first two in line. What happened to all these young college kids? Here we were acting like old fuddy-duddies, planning our game plan for bringing Chick-fil-A with us to eat while we waited and debating the merits of our footwear for the evening (that's a long time to stand, so wear your practical shoes, girls!).

Again, another fabulous show. He brought David Besonen, a killer saxophone player, on tour with him. Ben literally plucked the guy straight off social media and asked David if he wanted to come tour with the band. The kid was mind-blowing on the saxophone. 

And then there was last night.

A few months ago, Ben announced he and Cody would be doing a special concert at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, with the National Symphony Orchestra. 

My head was already exploding with imagining how epic that show was going to be. Cody had recently been working on a series of songs from his "Symphony Sessions," where he had taken some of his songs,  some of Ben's, and the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" and did complete orchestral arrangements for them. 

I had access to the pre-sale ticket code and soon as that window opened up, you better believe I was dashing to that website. 

And as it turns out, so did the rest of the world. The pre-sale site crashed. I was frantically refreshing multiple browsers on both my laptop and my phone, desperately hoping I could score tickets. All I got were pages saying I was 600th-something in line, or 300th-something in line. I really was starting to think I would not get tickets.

Then through some act of God, the page suddenly loaded and I got in.

I landed fourth row tickets. 

I couldn't believe it.

(The only downside was that this would be the first show I would see without Jill, which had me bummed. She was already committed elsewhere and wouldn't be able to make it.)

So, off I went to the Kennedy Center last night with my niece and sorority sister (who happens to live in DC conveniently enough and let us crash at her place) in tow.

Ben, Cody, and the symphony didn't even make it through the second song before I was getting teary. 

To hear these songs coupled with the orchestra was so poignant, powerful, and moving. 

Thus the tears. 

It was absolutely amazing. 

Ben and Cody, I know you'll never read this blog, but watching the two of you perform is pure magic. You genuinely marvel at the fact that people pay to come see you perform, as if this notion continually takes you by surprise. It shouldn't. You are wildly talented, and to watch you exercise those gifts is a sight and sound to behold. It is obvious the delight you take in making music, music that moves people and their emotions. And seeing you two perform accompanied by the symphony?

That's what the joy of music looks and sounds like.  

 

------

If you want my recommendations on some of their music, here are my top picks:

Ben

• Sailboat (This is Ben's song, but Cody did an arrangement for it)
• The Men That Drive Me Places
• 30,000 Feet
• When I'm With You (this is the song that got me teary at the Kennedy show.)
• Ordinary Love (he opened with this song at the Cincy show and it was incredible)

Cody

• Flying (the crescendo in this song gets me every time)
• Photograph
• Find My Way Back
• From the Cold (technically from his Christmas album, but I don't really think of it as a Christmas song)
• Eleanor Rigby (a stunning remake of the Beatles' song)

Day 25: The Fashioning of a Priest

If you read the stories of the ancient Israelites, their exodus from Egypt, and their journey into the promised land, you will likely come to the conclusion that Moses was the star of the show. He was the man chosen by God to lead the people out from slavery in Egypt, the man chosen by God to perform miracles, the man through whom God parted the waters, the man through whom God gave the Ten Commandments, and the man with whom God spoke with "face to face, as one speaks to a friend" (Exodus 33:11). 

Yeah, I can see how you would think Moses was the star of the show.

But I actually think it's his brother, Aaron, who was the star of the show. 

When you read the entire arc of the storyline of the ancient Israelites, you'll see that everything keeps moving toward one thing: the priesthood. The tribes, the Passover, the sacrifices, the offerings, the law, the tabernacle. Pages and pages and pages of the Old Testament are devoted to what the priests would wear, what duties the priests would perform, what sacrifices the priests would offer, what laws the priests would follow. Yes, it was through Moses that God communicated the introduction of all those new customs and traditions for the Israelites, but it would ultimately be Aaron that God would clothe with priestly garments, who slit the throat of the sacrifices, who interceded on behalf of the people's sins. 

But there were a few bumps in the road along the way before Aaron made his way to the heights of the priesthood. 

If you've been around the Bible a bend or two, you're likely familiar with the story found in Exodus 32, the story of the golden calf. The people have left Egypt, they've crossed the Red Sea, and now they are wandering in the desert. Moses goes up to the top of Mt. Sinai to meet with God for forty days and forty nights, and eventually comes down with the Ten Commandments. 

But while Moses is up on the mountain, Aaron and the Israelites are growing restless and doubts start creeping in. 

When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, they gathered around Aaron and said, “Come, make us gods who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don’t know what has happened to him.”

Aaron answered them, “Take off the gold earrings that your wives, your sons and your daughters are wearing, and bring them to me.” So all the people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron. He took what they handed him and made it into an idol cast in the shape of a calf, fashioning it with a tool. Then they said, “These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.”

When Aaron saw this, he built an altar in front of the calf and announced, “Tomorrow there will be a festival to the Lord.” So the next day the people rose early and sacrificed burnt offerings and presented fellowship offerings. Afterward they sat down to eat and drink and got up to indulge in revelry.

Take note of what is happening here. On one hand up, on the mountain, God is delivering to Moses the specifications of the priesthood, the tabernacle, and the structure for how the Israelites were to order their lives. God is casting a vision, telling Moses how the priesthood would take shape, what its purpose would be, and how it was to serve the people. On the other hand, down the mountain, Aaron - the future high priest himself - is telling the people to hand in their gold so he could make a god in the form of a golden calf.  

Translation: 

The priest was fashioning a god while God was fashioning a priest. 

Isn't that usually the way of it? We humans are over in one corner, making our plans, our eyes set on our own ambitions, our own dreams, our own goals. We lose sight of the work God is doing in our lives, up on the mountain, so to speak, and so we feel the need to take matters into our own hands, to begin fashioning our own dreams, begging those dreams to give us the meaning and identity we so desperately seek. 

Meanwhile, God has entirely different designs for our lives, a vision for us far greater than us fashioning golden calves. We're working over here while he's working over there. And what he's doing over "there" is infinitely better than what we are doing "here." God is fashioning an identity for us that supersedes our wildest imaginations, but how often do we fail to have eyes to see that? We get tangled up in our own sins, making idols out of things that were never meant to be worshiped. 

Eventually Moses comes down the mountain and confronts and rebukes Aaron and the people for their idolatry and revelry. They do not escape the consequences of their sin, for Moses takes the golden calf, melts it, grinds it up and makes the people quite literally drink their sins.

Thankfully, by the mercy and kindness of God, the day comes, though, when the priest stops fashioning gods and becomes the priest God had fashioned him to be.

In Leviticus 8-9, Aaron and his sons are formally ordained as priests and begin their priestly duties. Their first act of service?

Slaughter a calf.

Eight days later Moses called together Aaron, his sons, and Israel's leaders. Then he said to Aaron: "Find a young bull and a ram that have nothing wrong with them. Offer the bull to the Lord as a sacrifice for sin and the ram as a sacrifice to please him..." 

Moses said: "The Lord has ordered you to do this, so that he may appear to you in all of his glory. Aaron, step up to the altar and offer the sacrifice to please the Lord, then offer the sacrifices for the forgiveness of your sins and for the sins of the people, just as the Lord has commanded." 

Aaron stepped up to the altar and killed the bull that was to be the sacrifice for his sins (Leviticus 9:1-2, 6-8).

I can't help but wonder if when Aaron went to that altar if the images of the golden calf didn't flash in his mind. As he held the throat of the calf, feeling its pulse, knowing this animal would die for Aaron's owns sins, I wonder if Aaron remembered fashioning that golden calf, remembered the heat of the flame as he sculpted the material. Because he was now killing, now sacrificing, the calf who would bear the consequences of that sin, that sin of worshiping that other calf, and he would now feel the heat not shape the body of the calf, but rather ebb from the body of the calf. The calf-worshiper had become the calf-slayer.  

This priest had once fashioned a god.

But God had now fashioned a priest.

God is in the business of taking people like me, people like you, and fashioning us into something far greater than we dare dream for ourselves. He knows we are sinful, knows we are broken, know the depths of our depravity. He is not unaware or blind to our foolishness.

And yet he still believes that sin will not have the final word over our lives. He didn't abandon Aaron at the foot of the golden calf, believing it to be impossible for him to be anything other than an idol-worshiper. No, God kept chiseling, kept crafting, kept sculpting the man he had set apart for his glory and his purpose. God is relentless in shaping his people for his glory, for the hammer he strikes against us is far more powerful than any tool we ourselves use to strike against our own idols. 

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy (1 Peter 2:8-10). 

You are a royal priest, God's special possession.

He knows the way you should take (Job 23:10), and when he pulls you out of the fire, he will pull you out not as someone who was about the business of fashioning a god or a golden calf, but as someone who was willing to declare the praises of him who has called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. 

Day 24: Columbus' Best Desserts

I may be a fan of Whole30 and axing sugar from my life for extended periods of time on occasion, but that doesn't change the fact that I still love a good dessert. Cakes. Pies. Cupcakes. Brownies. Cookies. I have a t-shirt that says "Abs are great but have you tried donuts?" Donuts make for good desserts as well in my book.

I am by no means a dessert connoisseur. It's not like I've scoured every square inch of my city to taste-test every sweet treat it has to offer, but I certainly have taste-tested my fair share, and there are definitely some favorites in there. 

So, if you're ever in the city and want my recommendations on where to go for some stellar desserts, here's my line-up, in no particular order:

Chocolate Cafe - Just go straight for the salted caramel brownie. Absolute heaven. The Reese's Peanut Butter Chunk cookies are pretty stellar too. And they always drizzle warm milk chocolate on top of both options.    

Golden Delight Bakery - Go for their trademark fresh strawberry cake. This is a long-standing family favorite, first discovered at a high school graduation party back in 2002. Most major family occasions have involved this cake. Light. Airy. Fresh. You can't go wrong.

Cap City Diner - Don't even ask questions, just order the chocolate-covered peanut butter pie. It's not an exaggeration to say that this pie has brought tears to my eyes on occasion. When I went to celebrate a milestone birthday, this was the dessert of choice.

Just Pies - Without a doubt, the best pumpkin pie I've ever had in my life. Also the best apple, dutch apple, strawberry rhubarb, and Buckeye pies I've ever had in my life. They used to have a bakery near where I lived. It was a hazard to my health. They made a variety of sizes, one of which was a small 'baby' pie of sorts, only 5 inches or so in size. So dangerous. They had a sign hanging in the store once that said "Every pie is personal if you just believe in yourself." That pie was, no doubt, personal.

Harvest Bread Co - This technically isn't a dessert, I suppose, but it's sweet enough to qualify as one in my world. And this place also technically isn't native to Columbus, but who cares. Go for the Xtreme Cinnamon Swirl. Your taste buds will thank you.

Nothing Bundt Cakes  - Also not native to Columbus, but again, who cares. Carrot cake. Definitely carrot cake here. And if you love cream cheese frosting, this place is your new home.

Katalina's Cafe - Home of the famous pancake balls. I mean, what? Again, technically not a dessert, but again, who cares. Get the pancake balls filled with Nutella. But make sure you eat them all because they do not make great leftovers. (They also used to have these Brown Betty Biscuit Balls, which were amazing, but upon looking at their menu, it appears they don't serve them anymore?! I am mildly distressed over this.)

Whole Foods - Best cupcakes in town. Go for the chocolate peanut butter. (Although, full disclosure, the last time I went, the cupcake I had was terrible. I'm hoping that was a one-off.)

If you're a Columbus native, any other recommendations you'd throw on your own list?

------

If you venture outside the walls of Columbus, I also offer this favorite:

Levain Bakery - I'm not sure there are words. You can practically wring the grease out of these things, but they are oh-so-good. Perfect combo of crispy outside and gooey inside. I first discovered them last summer while on a trip to DC. 

Day 23: Things I Don't Regret

Back on Day 13 I spoke of regrets, the things we kick ourselves for, as if we somehow should have known with foresight what we now know only in hindsight. 

But what about the things we don't regret? What are the things that we are so glad we followed through on, no matter how big or small, difficult or easy? What are the things we look back on and think, "I absolutely got that right"?

I have a few of those:

• Walking away from horses. Not even a question in my mind. This was one of the smartest things I've ever done in my life, and if I had to do it over, I'd do the exact same thing over again, which is such a mystery to people who knew me well back then. Horses were my life. But yep, I'd walk away all over again without so much as a second glance over my shoulder. Never once have I regretted that.

• Quitting social media.  That is well-documented elsewhere, but also a no-brainer and also one of the smartest things I've ever done in my life.

• Buying a Subaru over a Ford. I love my Subie and I'm glad I picked that over my dream of a Ford pickup truck. 

• Quitting my job to stay in Kenya. It was a leap, but one well worth it. It felt energizing to step off that cliff, to leave my job, rearrange plans and spend an extra month and a half in Kenya. And leaving that last job opened up the doors to the job I've now had for a decade.

• Moving in with my parents. There was a period of about 18 months after I had a pretty epic mental health crisis where I decided to move back home with my parents while I sorted out life and everything that had erupted in my brain. That felt like admitting defeat, being in my 30s and moving back home to literally live in my parents' basement, but I don't think I could have gotten healthy in the timeframe that I did otherwise. (Thanks, Mom and Dad.)

• Seeing Ben Rector in concert. I've seen Ben multiple times, but one particular concert I went to, I was sicker than a dog. My friend Jill has been with me to every Ben Rector concert and on a lark we decided to go see him in Cincinnati years ago. I was feeling miserable, but we still decided to go. It was the best concert I've ever been to. (Bonus! I'll be seeing him this week at the Kennedy Center! A full report to come later.)

• Joining a gym. Y'all. Going to the gym has literally changed my life. I used to have chronic low back problems and at worst, I had a herniated disc. Absolute misery. I vowed I would never go through that again so long as it was in my power. I got my fanny into a gym after that. This is consistently the healthiest and strongest I've ever been in my life.

And just for fun:

• Ordering Chick-fil-A. Is it even possible to go wrong with Chick-fil-A? I've never regretted this decision in my life. 😋

Day 22: Eucatastrophe

Eucatastrophe.

This is perhaps my favorite word in the English language, coined by JRR Tolkien.

Tolkien himself defined it as "the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears." In its purest form, it means 'good catastrophe.'

It's the moment in the story when you think all hope is lost, that there's no way through whatever mess the characters find themselves in. But then - but then something happens. The tide turns perhaps in a way you never excepted or imagined, but it comes nonetheless and hope stirs. For a moment, you realize that maybe all the sad things really can come untrue. As TolkienGateway.net explains, 

In essence, a eucatastrophe is a massive turn in fortune from a seemingly unconquerable situation to an unforseen victory, usually brought by grace rather than heroic effort. Such a turn is catastrophic in the sense of its breadth and surprise and positive in that a great evil or misfortune is averted.

A turn brought by grace. Tolkien argued that Jesus' death on the cross was the greatest eucatastrophe in history, the moment when it seemed all hope had been lost, but in truth, was the defining moment of victory. 

I think we all have moments like this in our own lives, our own mini-eucatastrophes scattered across the plot lines of our lives, moments when we thought we had reached the end, facing our own "seemingly unconquerable situation." And in those moments, it might have been easy to wonder, "How could this possibly end well?"  

God, in his infinite kindness and wisdom, knows the answer to that question because he is the master author of all eucatastrophes. It's the turn brought about by his grace, and not our heroic effort. As Tolkien said, "It is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur."

When you trace the timeline of your life, where are the eucatastrophes? Where are the moments when grace miraculously and suddenly rushed in and claimed an unforeseen victory? Those moments are there, but we must have eyes to see them. We must have eyes to see the turning of the tide, to see both the good and the catastrophe all at once, reconciling the two together, for they are closer kin than we would like to think.

In the book of Genesis, Joseph knew of this eucatastrophe of which Tolkien spoke. Sold into slavery by his brothers at a young age, Joseph both climbed to the heights of ancient Egyptian power and tumbled into the depths of its darkness. He languished for years in prison, forgotten by those around him, his father and brothers believing him dead. 

And then in a turn brought by grace, he was remembered. He was liberated from prison and rose to become pharaoh's second-in-command. A famine struck the land and it is under Joseph's leadership that the people managed to survive. His brothers went Egypt to buy grain, and it there that they discovered the brother they thought dead was, in fact, alive and well. And with Joseph in a position of power now, they were at his mercy.   

From the perspective of the brothers, this was their seemingly unconquerable situation. They had sold their brother into slavery and led their father to believe his favorite son was dead. How could Joseph possibly ever forgive them for this?  

Through a turn brought by grace. 

"As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today. So do not fear..." (Genesis 50:20-21a).

A good catastrophe.

This is the same through line with which Tolkien can claim the cross of Christ was the greatest eucatastrophe in the history of the world. The devil meant for the cross to bring evil against the Son of God, but God himself meant it for good, that many people should be kept alive, should be saved.

So do not fear. 

You may look back on your past or be standing in your present and see nothing but catastrophe. But God sees the eu- in your catastrophe. He sees the happy ending, whether you can or not. Whatever the enemy has meant for evil in your life, God has meant it for good.

Just look for the moment when your breath catches.

"It is the mark of a good fairy-story, of the higher or more complete kind, that however wild its events, however fantastic or terrible the adventures, it can give to child or man that hears it, when the 'turn' comes, a catch of the breath, a beat and lifting of the heart, near to (or indeed accompanied by) tears, as keen as that given by any form of literary art..." - JRR Tolkien

------ 

The BBC wrote a commentary on Tolkien and his neologism recently. Worth a read.

Day 21: The Value of Questions

I love questions. I love it even more when I'm around people who ask good questions. Asking questions shows you are interested in the other person, that you care about the details of their life. If you want to show that you care about me, then ask me questions and take an interest in my life. 

I learned this lesson from my friend, Austin. We were hanging out one night when we were in college. I got back to my dorm later and we were chatting some more on AIM (remember those days with AOL Instant Messenger?!). I commented and said, "I felt like that conversation was very one-sided and that I did all the talking." To which he responded, "That's because it was one-sided and you did do all the talking." 

Oh. Right.

See, Austin was and is great at asking questions. And I'm not talking just generic, surface-level questions. He would ask specific, detailed questions because he was paying attention and listening well, knew how to get to the heart of things, knew how to cut through the noise. So, yes, I did do all the talking that night because I never bothered to ask him questions in return.

That was probably one of the most valuable life lessons I've ever learned, certainly an aha moment. There is an art form to asking questions, and since that conversation with him, I have endeavored to ask good questions when talking with others. It has taken a tremendous amount of practice, intentionality and clarity of mind. It requires that I pay attention in a conversation, to stay tuned in and engaged. I saw it modeled well in Austin - and in others since. Sure, sometimes in certain social settings, particularly with complete strangers or an unfamiliar environment, this skill momentarily goes out the door because I'm nervous, trying to take in everything else going on around me. But generally, it has become second nature.

So, how 'bout a round of questions? I obviously can't sit across the table from you over a slice of a salted caramel brownie in this context and have ourselves a little chat, but you can mull these over on your own nonetheless - or sound off in the comments. If you're looking for a boost to inspire your question-asking abilities, my mom bought me a box of questions from TableTopics, which is a simple and easy way to engage others by asking questions.

• What's the best advice you've ever been given? ("Let it be what it is until it isn't.")
• What do you like most about your home? (The silence.)
• Where is your favorite place on earth? (Either my own bed or the recliner in my bedroom.)
• What one possession means the most to you? (My journals.)
• What's the best thing about coming home after you've been away? (Sleeping in my own bed.)
• Which game is most fun to play? (Mad Gab.)
• Who makes you laugh? (Sandra.)
• Who do you owe a huge thank you? (My parents.)
• What's your favorite part of the day? (The quiet of the evening, watching sunset.)
• What's the best thing you've found in nature? (I don't know if can say I found a whole mountain range, but we'll go with the Grand Tetons.)
• What's the nicest thing your mom does for you? (Loves me despite my biting words towards her sometimes)
• Which of the five senses are you most grateful for? (Sight.)
• What's the healthiest thing you do for your body? (Work out regularly and eat whole foods.)
• What was your favorite book or movie from last year? (Top Gun: Maverick. Duh.)
• Which leftover are you most excited about seeing in your refrigerator? (Chicken casserole and homemade mashed potatoes.)

------

If you want more resources on asking good questions, check out Warren Berger's content for some inspiration.

Day 20: I Got Nothing

Some days you just don't have anything worth saying (or you procrastinated and didn't make time to write 😬). 

Today is one of those days. 

But it still counts!

Day 19: Smelling Like Smoke

There are some people who reek of their life circumstances, of everything that has seemingly gone wrong in their lives. They can be stressed, anxious, bitter, angry, hurtful, negative, and pessimistic, and they wear those emotions like they wear a pair of adult onesies - covered from head-to-toe. They complain about their past and their present and they assume the worst about their future. You know the people I'm talking about? They are the ones who are a drain on your mind and emotions, the ones you mentally psych yourself up to spend any amount of time with because they just require so.much.energy. You aim to take them in small doses because too much of them just makes you want to slide off the couch and hide in a corner. You may or may not know what fire they've been through, but you know they've been through one because they come out smelling like it, their scorched emotions filling every crevice of the room. 

I know that kind of person because I was that kind of person, in some ways. I just hid it really well most of the time. There was a time in life when I was just kind of mad at the world over a whole host of things that I felt had gone wrong. I look back and marvel that I actually had any friends at that time. God bless 'em, they stuck with me in those frosty, bitter years. I remember a college friend very kindly but very bluntly saying to me, "Courtney, sometimes you're just straight up cold."

Ouch.

That one stung. 

But I took note of her comment and began taking stock. I realized I carried around in my heart and my mind this notion that I had been wronged, that God had taken from me far more than he had given me. This faulty thinking bled over into so many areas of my life - my interactions with friends, how I treated classmates, how I acted within my family, what I believed to be true about God. I reeked of the negativity and bitterness harbored deep in my heart. I was rigid and unbending at times, blunt in the delivery of my opinions without regard to the other person's emotions. There was no air freshener strong enough to mask the smell I left behind sometimes. As my high school English teacher once told me, "You do not suffer fools gladly, Courtney."

If you have read the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego found in Daniel 3, then you'll be well-acquainted with the fire they walked through. The king at the time - King Nebuchadnezzar - built a statue of gold and issued a decree that everyone bow down and worship it. Everyone did, except for those three men. In a fit of rage over this insult, the king summoned the men, demanding they bow down and worship this statue. To this, the men very calmly replied:

King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up” (Daniel 3:16-18).

You can imagine that response went over like a lead balloon. The king is even angrier after this response and throws the men into a blazing furnace, seven times hotter than normal.

And what happens, to the king's surprise? There are not only three men in the fire, still alive, but a fourth has joined them, a man looking like a "son of the gods." And the king was right - only it was the Son of God walking in the fire with Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, working a miracle to save them from the flames.

But you know what I think is equally amazing? I mean, yes, it's no doubt a miracle that these men could be thrown into a blazing hot furnace and still walk around, but the other stunning miracle is what happens after they come out from the flames:

[The leaders] saw that the fire had not harmed [the men's] bodies, nor was a hair of their heads singed; their robes were not scorched, and there was no smell of fire on them (Daniel 3:27).  

There was no smell of fire on them. 

These men who had just been standing around in flames that incinerated the soldiers who threw them in there don't even have a trace of smoke remaining on them.

Allow me to state the obvious lesson to be learned here: 

Just because you walk through the fire doesn't mean you have to come out smelling like smoke.

When we go through difficult things - even traumatic things - in life, it doesn't mean that we have to spend our remaining days giving off the fragrance of those things. When we go through difficult things, it doesn't mean we have to work so hard at making sure everyone else is as miserable as us. When we go through difficult things, it doesn't mean we have to leave a trail of anger or bitterness in our wake. 

When we go through difficult things in life, when we walk through the fire, it is possible for us to come out smelling like some thing other than the fire itself. It's not just a miracle that there is another in the fire with us, but also miracle that we don't smell like the fire.

If you read through the books of Leviticus and Numbers, time and time again, it talks about the sacrifices offered to God, sacrifices that had "an aroma pleasing to the Lord." These were sacrifices burned in the fire, but with an aroma pleasing to God.

It's possible to go through the fire and not coming out smelling like smoke. You don't have to walk around bearing the scent of the crucible for the rest of your life.

What is the fragrance you leave behind? Is it one of a scorched heart, burned so bad that you're determined to overwhelm everyone else within your vicinity? Or is it one of sweetness, a pleasant aroma? 

Choose carefully the scent you leave behind. And take note that sometimes, the fragrant offering is the absence of the fragrance. 

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are an aroma that brings death; to the other, an aroma that brings life" (2 Corinthians 2:14-16).

Day 18: Long Live Sheldon

Various people have handed me plants over the years as gifts, saying, "Trust me, this is such a hardy little plant. You can't kill it."

To which I lean in close and always say, "Trust me. I will."

My ability to grow or sustain anything green is laughable. My best friend from high school gave me a bamboo plant when we graduated, possibly for good luck. I think the bamboo needed the luck more than I did. I killed it within a year. An ex-boyfriend gave me a little pine tree, saying what everyone always says, "This is such a hardy little plant. You can't kill it." It was a pile of brown needles in no time. 

My friend Cindy gave me a succulent as a housewarming gift several years ago, specifically buying one after I told her I have such a terrible time keeping anything alive. "Trust me, this is such a hardy little plant. You can't kill it," she said. Within mere months, I went to pull a dead leaf off at the base and the whole thing collapsed like a house of cards, the roots rotted. 

I rescued an aloe plant abandoned by a co-worker at the start of the pandemic. I wasn't sure it was going to do any better under my watch than if I had just left it at the office, but I thought I'd give it a shot. It surprisingly lasted for a couple of years and then I repotted it and everything went to hell in a handbasket. I gave it to the guy I was dating at the time in the hopes he could salvage it. He did, of course, and it started flourishing again. 

If you were to visit my house, you would notice there is exactly ZERO landscaping. Not a single flower or hosta or vine in sight. I planted some lavender in two urns by my garage last summer. I'm glad they were only a few dollars a piece. They, too, died. Well, one did, and then I gave the other almost-dead one to my mom to replant. It, too, flourished under her watch. I can't even get grass to grow. Grass, people, grass. I planted some grass seed in some patchy spots in my yard. Nothing happened. I planted some more. Eventually some grew in, but that clearly was just an act of grace on God's part because I usually forgot to water it.

My friend Ruth finally got a clue and just bought me some magnets shaped like fake aloe plants. She's a wise woman, that girl.

And then there's my peace lily.

I've decided to name him Sheldon, for reasons I will get to in a moment.

Sheldon is my miracle plant. He, too, was one of the plants abandoned by a co-worker at the start of the pandemic. I previously had good luck with peace plants - the one and only plant in my life I've ever been able to keep alive for an extended period of time. I was mildly hopeful this guy might make it but he was already in rough shape. I brought him home and generally left him to his own devices. I occasionally remembered to water him when his leaves very clearly started drooping.

And miracle of miracles, Sheldon is still alive - THREE YEARS LATER. 

However, in those three years, Sheldon has never bloomed. 

I would read articles on caring for peace lilies and how to get them to bloom. The articles would say things like, "The pH needs to be just right. They need sunlight, but filtered sunlight, not direct sunlight. They don't like drafty spots, so keep them away from vents. Make sure you fertilize it. Don't overwater it, but don't underwater it."  

Frick.

It's going to take a miracle for this thing to ever bloom again. 

And then I moved Sheldon. 

This is where I explain his name.

If you've seen the TV show "The Big Bang Theory," you'll know where this is headed. Sheldon Cooper is one of the main characters, full of maddening quirks and idiosyncrasies, one of which is that he has to sit in a particular spot on the couch. He explains the precision of why that oh-so-particular spot is optimal: "In the winter, that seat is close enough to the radiator to stay warm and yet not so close as to cause perspiration. In the summer, it's directly in the path of a cross-breeze created by opening windows there and there. It faces the television at an angle that is neither direct, thus discouraging conversation, nor so far wide as to create a parallax distortion."

This is the human version of my plant. I moved the plant version of Sheldon from the far side of the room to the middle, not because I cared about him or his proximity to the vent or whether he was in direct sunlight or not or whether he was facing the TV enough so as to not create a parallax, but because I moved furniture around and he was in the way.

And what do you know? 

Lo and behold, he bloomed last November.

What?!

I had to do a double-take when I first saw the bloom because I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Surely, this can't be! I nearly wanted to start clapping and cheering, rooting for the little guy. You bloomed! Way to go, you ridiculously fickle and persnickety plant! You did it! Against all odds! Uphill both ways! Despite your notoriously good plant-killing owner! Congratulations! You triumphed against all odds! You overcame adversity!

Now, don't die on me, Sheldon.

Day 17: Dead Ends

For years, I looked back on one particular dating relationship with a form of regret that lingered in the shadows of my mind. It lurked quietly, hovering in the corners of my subconscious. The relationship lasted all of nine months before it ended, and I always wondered if it should have ever even started. 

I lived with the notion that I was supposed to somehow get everything perfect right out of the gate, like somehow I should have seen it all coming. I felt there had been a green light to say yes to moving forward with dating the guy - and then a red light came. In the aftermath, I would often ask God in my prayers, "Did I not hear you right? Did I not discern well? Did I miss a step somewhere? Because if that had been the right thing, wouldn't we have stayed together, wouldn't it have all worked out?" 

And I would always pray, echoing the words of Moses from Exodus 33:15-16, "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?” Unless God's presence was going with me, I didn't want to go. I didn't want anything to do with dating this guy if I wasn't sure that God's hand was upon it, his presence going with me. How else would anyone know that I was set apart if God's presence didn't go with me? 

Those same questions came back again more recently after I dated a guy from church. I felt confident about the decision to move forward with dating, to give the relationship a chance, to grant it the margin necessary for it to breath and grow. I discerned green lights again, praying those verses out of Exodus 33 yet again. And within weeks a red light came, a bold unmistakable red light. "God, did I not hear you right? Did I not discern well? Did I miss a step somewhere? Should we have never dated to begin with? Was this a sign that your presence wasn't with me?" The same questions all over again, that same regret and second-guessing lingering in the shadows of my mind. 

I kept running into dead ends, wondering all along if I had taken turns I should never have taken.

And then it hit me, like a bolt from the blue. By the grace of God, it finally hit me:

Dead ends are not proof of God's absence. 

Exhibit A:

The Israelites and the Red Sea. 

The Israelites were the very chosen people of God. Of all the people that should have gotten it right, it should have been them. God commanded Moses, the chosen leader of God's chosen people, to lead the people out of Egypt and head for the promised land. 

Where do they wind up on the way?

At a dead end, running smack dab into a wall of water with no way forward and a pursuing army behind them.

As Pharaoh approached, the Israelites looked up, and there were the Egyptians, marching after them. They were terrified and cried out to the Lord. They said to Moses, 'Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die? What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt? Didn’t we say to you in Egypt, ‘Leave us alone; let us serve the Egyptians’? It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!'

Their questions were my questions. God, why? Why did you lead me up into this relationship only for it to end in heartbreak on one side or the other? Wouldn't it have been better if we had just never walked down this road to begin with? Wouldn't it have been better if we had just been kept ignorant?

We are a people haunted by dead ends, wondering why we ever got our hopes up to begin with, wondering why green lights turn red.

But you know what was still with the Israelites at that dead end, facing that wall of water and a pursuing army?

God's presence. 

He was the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. 

Then the angel of God, who had been traveling in front of Israel’s army, withdrew and went behind them. The pillar of cloud also moved from in front and stood behind them, coming between the armies of Egypt and Israel. Throughout the night the cloud brought darkness to the one side and light to the other side; so neither went near the other all night long. Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left.

The dead end was not proof of God's absence or that the people had erred.

They were right where they were supposed to be.

When this revelation hit me, it was like scales falling from my eyes. I suddenly saw my past with a whole new level clarity - and whole new level of grace and freedom. Maybe all of those seemingly 'failed' relationships weren't dead ends after all. Maybe they were God's gracious reminders to this striving perfectionist that his sovereignty far exceeded my inadequacies, insecurities, and doubts. Those relationships had purpose and reason, teaching me not only about myself, but God himself. Maybe the dead ends weren't dead ends after all. 

Now, are there times when we have genuinely erred and have walked down a path we shouldn't have? Yes. We're human, we're sinful, and we regularly do dumb and foolish things. There's a reason we are compared to sheep in the Bible. Sheep are not the sharpest tools in the barnyard shed. Like sheep, we do stupid things, and yes, sometimes we do dismiss God's voice and the promptings of the Holy Spirit and choose to go our own way. In those instances, we need to confess, repent, and take good notes on how to not walk that road again.  

But if our hearts are set on God and his will and his ways, if we are earnestly seeking his face, desiring what he desires, then we have to trust by faith that he will make known to us the path of life (Psalm 16:11). This is why discernment is so essential, to distinguish between those moments when the dead end is because of our own sinfulness and when the dead end is the ordained hand of God. "Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit" (Galatians 5:25). It is this keeping in step with the Spirit that will guide our paths, even when those paths lead to seemingly dead ends.

So, for those of you who are second-guessing, wondering if the dead end you're standing at is because you missed a step somewhere - 

Dead ends are not proof of God's absence. 

He's present. 

He's the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. 

Besides, your dead end may not be a dead end after all. 

Maybe God is just waiting for the right time to part the waters.