a list for friday—things that are apparently a big deal but I don’t know why

Planking.

Foursquare. Do you really care that I’m at Target….again?

Tattoos. Much love to my friends who have them, but I just don’t get it.

Cupcakes.

Shark Week.




The Cheesecake Factory. Have you EVER been there when it’s not so crowded you’re touching strangers inappropriately?

American Idol.

Pinterest. (Didn’t Evernote do this first, and better?)

Christmas cards. To everyone I know: I wish you a very happy Christmas. There—done.

Chex Mix. It smells like cat food.

Fabric softener.

Citizen Kane.

What “big deal” things seem smallish (or downright pointless) to you?

never beyond?

This week, People of the Second Chance launched “Never Beyond,” a series of posters representing well-known characters—historical and current, real and fictional—who have harmed society. Each of them, like this first one featuring Casey Anthony, asks “Who Would You Give A Second Chance?”

The idea is to challenge our core beliefs about forgiveness and grace. POTSC invited me to participate in the blog campaign about this project, and yesterday I wrote a whole post about how forgiveness doesn’t mean being a doormat but it means choosing freedom by giving up the right to punish the other person, and the importance of letting go of anger and resentment, and how even though it may seem impossible to consider forgiveness it’s the path to health, and yada yada yada.


Then I read this.

Two white teens in Mississippi, Daryl Dedmon and John Aaron Rice (why must southerners always have two first names?), got drunk and decided to find a black person to beat up. The first one they saw was James Craig Anderson.

“Dedmon pummeled Anderson repeatedly as he crumpled to the street, according to officials,” said the CNN story. “After the beating, some of the teens left and some got into the truck. At this moment on the video, Anderson becomes visible, as he staggers into view and walks toward the headlights of the truck. The truck suddenly surges ahead, running over Anderson, then continues at high speed away from the scene.”

They ganged up on a man, beat him severely, then ran him over. A man they’d never met. Because of his skin color.


I don’t know how to forgive that. I don’t even know how to talk about forgiving that. Instead of Casey Anthony, I see Dedmon and Rice on that poster, and instead of offering them grace I want to hit them with shovels.

I exaggerate (a bit), but any honest conversation about second chances has to acknowledge how terrifically difficult it can be. We can all picture a person on our own poster, someone we simply cannot imagine forgiving, and our abstract enthusiasm for a movement of “scandalous grace” must become a specific resolve to extend that grace to real people in real life.

So how do we get there? Is anyone beyond a second chance? What if they never feel remorse or admit guilt? How do we live out this movement of mercy in a world of evil?

Dear Wendy…..

It’s after midnight and you’re sleeping, finally, after some last-minute packing of crates and duffels and some help from Tylenol PM. Good to see it working—tomorrow you will fly to Tanzania by way of Amsterdam, a 24-hour journey you’re dreading. Sleep is good.

I should be sleeping, too, but I may also need pills. Yesterday on a flight of my own I sat next to an Army private heading out for a tour of duty. I thought about the people who love him and wondered how they could say goodbye as he left for a year or longer. How did they choke down breakfast that morning? How did they endure the ride to the airport? How did they peel themselves away after the last hug?


Tomorrow morning I will find out, as I join your other friends and family to see you off for two or maybe even three years of missionary service in Africa.

Neither of us knows what those years will bring. By 2014 I could be married with triplets (please, no) or promoting my first book or fighting cancer. When you return you will be forever changed by years of learning Swahili, bonding with the young students you’ve taught, and witnessing God’s provision in the desert. Who will we be when we meet again? The changes are both unknowable and unstoppable, and even the positive possibilities overwhelm me as I sit thinking tonight.

But even as my mind races, I know some things will not change: My interest in your work. My love for you as a friend and adopted sister. The everlasting God who holds both of us in his hands.

Tomorrow you, too, will follow the orders of your Captain. You will fly off to war and confront not only the intangible spiritual battles of a country but also its too-real droughts and riots and danger.

And I will manage a few gulps of coffee, and endure the ride to IND, and let you go after the final hug. And I’ll be waiting at the airport when you come home.

a re-post: in defense of summer vacation

Kids across the country return to school this week, and it makes me sad.

Granted, there are tons of kids ready to go back, and just because I hated school for 17 years does not mean I am anti-education.

But what happened to the three-month summer? Today’s kids get out in late May, start pencil and scissor shopping in July and are tucked back behind a desk before August even gets going. When I was younger, June, July AND August were sacred, and were spent riding bikes, climbing trees, attending church camp, reading piles of books from the library, scrounging up quarters to pay the late fines, eating popsicles, cannonballing into the pool, sunburning shoulders, and pestering little brothers. Bliss.


Of course, not every child’s summer was so idyllic, and researchers now believe children without access to camps and libraries suffer “summer learning loss.” As a result, more schools, especially in lower-income areas, are extending semesters and school days and shortening summer breaks.

For instance, according to a recent Time magazine article, Cincinnati offered the 13 lowest-performing schools in the city an optional “fifth quarter,” or extra month of classes, this past June. This seems equivalent to offering Guantanamo prisoners an extra four weeks of waterboarding, but Governor Strickland hopes to eventually add the extension to every school in the state.

Others point out our country’s low achievement scores relative to Europe and Asia, and some believe sociological shifts support the extended day. “Our children are no longer working in the fields,” says US Education Secretary Arne Duncan in the same article. “And Mom isn’t waiting at home at 2:30 with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. That just doesn’t happen in American families anymore.”


This seems like a classic mistake of cause and effect.

For one thing, that mom (or dad) who’s not home to greet the children after work may also be too tired to give much help with homework or attend parent-teacher conferences. I’m not trying to open the whole should-women-work topic, because the issue is more complex—both moms and dads (when present) improve their kids’ academic performance by taking an active interest and involvement in the process. Keeping kids in school longer won’t make the parents less stressed or more on-task when the kids finally get home.

Second, many of our schools are already in crisis, with teachers struggling to manage huge classes and dwindling resources. Extending a child’s stay in some of them is about as productive as giving the mouse a bigger wheel to run. Some educators realize this, and are using the extended time as an opportunity to give extra attention to the kids who need it most. “Clearly, focusing on the students that are furthest behind is where it makes the most sense,” says Chris Gabrieli, chairman of Massachusetts 2020, which helped create an experimental extended day program in 26 low-performing schools throughout the state. “Middle-class kids, they get a lot more learning time outside of school—they get tutors, they get arts programs, they get music programs, they get summer camps.”


And so we return to my own memories of summer, three predictably wonderful months ending with predictably pathetic tears on Labor Day. Because I had the benefit of those enrichment activities, plus a good public school and involved parents, I graduated at the top of a big class and earned a 31 on my ACT. Although the meager bragging rights of that sentence are about the total good the ACT did me, neither did the long summers do me any harm.

A few more hours each week might help our students become more competitive, but our parents and schools also have a few things to learn. Let’s use the time we have more effectively before piling more onto little sunburned shoulders.

it’s not easy being green

I’m thinking about jealousy today.

Most of the time I’m quite content to be a behind-the-scenes person, using my skills to make other leaders and their projects more successful.

Most of the time.


Then there are days like yesterday when I see other people, much more well-known, praised for their abilities. Through a combination of luck and talent (because they are talented), these folks have risen to the top of their fields or the top of the best-seller lists or the top of the blogosphere, and for the most part they are doing good things with their platforms.

But sometimes I feel resentful because, if I’m honest, I think I’m just as talented and just as capable.


Maybe you can relate. Are you the pastor of a small, unknown church who regularly hits a home run with your sermons? Do you privately critique the messages preached by the megachurch guy down the street and resent his popularity and conference invites?

Maybe you work in an office where charisma is more valued than commitment and you see others receive credit for what you’ve done.

Or maybe, like me, you work hard and pay your dues plus some interest just to see others work less, make more money, receive more opportunities and get more pats on the back.


Self pity much? Just thinking this way seems childish, and I don’t like this about myself. I don’t like admitting it to you. But I’m probably not alone. So just in case any of you ever struggle with the same green-eyed monster, here’s what I try to remember when jealousy strikes:

I can’t know another person’s life. It’s easy to idealize someone else’s successes, but that person probably has physical, emotional, spiritual or relational struggles you know nothing about. Remember you’re only seeing one part of the picture.

Get real. It’s easy to feel cheated because I haven’t had the same opportunities, but if I’m honest I don’t have even the beginning of a book idea or a mission to share. Why fuss about not making the team when you haven’t learned the sport?

They feel jealous, too. Believe it or not, that “personality” you’re thinking of is measuring himself against someone else. There’s always someone with more money, more influence or more talent. Comparison doesn’t stop when you achieve a goal; if anything, it gets worse.

Those who need to know, know. The masses may not know my name, but the pastors, nonprofit leaders, authors, entrepreneurs and creatives I work with appreciate me and what I do. Having them as fans is more important to me than having Facebook fans.

There’s still ink in the pen. I’m in my 30s, not my 70s—there’s still time to have more adventures. Even if I was in my 70s, Grandma Moses proved you can begin an amazing career at any age. My story isn’t written yet.

Contentment is a choice. Today I get to see Andrew Peterson in concert (good grief, talk about an artist who should be better known), interview leaders in California and Florida for that Externally Focused project, brainstorm the new name for a midwest megachurch, write an iPhone app description for a church planting group, and connect with you on this blog. I’m healthy. My friends and family are wonderful. The lawnmower works again and there’s no “back to school” in my future. I have a pretty great life, and I need to remember it.


When do you feel jealous? How have you resisted the comparison game?

a list for friday—2011 summer adventures, part 1

We’re halfway through July which means the Memorial-Day-through-Labor-Day-summer-season is also halfway over. (It also means the stores in Nashville have already loaded the shelves with a depressing explosion of binders, folders, and pencils for back to school.)


Time to take stock of the adventures thus far. Since Memorial Day I have……

—learned to boogie board at the New Jersey shore in possibly the coldest water outside of the Arctic Ocean.

—been stung in the neck by three wasps.

—sprayed a wasp nest with enough poison to kill every bug in the southeastern US.

—run 2.5 miles! Without stopping! Or swearing!

—added a touch more blonde to my hair. Why not?

 

—tried mountain biking.

—tried sitting on one, um, cheek until the purple, grapefruit-size mountain biking bruise on the other side healed.

—walked 467 miles through the lower east side of Manhattan during a Saturday afternoon downpour…..

— …..but also walked the High Line.

—planted a garden that refused to grow. Seriously. It just sits there.

—stayed at a 245-year-old bed and breakfast near Philadelphia.

—road tripped against my will to Mobile, Alabama and back. (There’s a reason videos like this and this always come from Alabama.)

—tried unsuccessfully to “establish dominance” with a 60-pound Siberian Husky.

—lived through the Great Cicada Invasion of 2011.

—lit fireworks and made root beer floats.


Just a few more weeks, folks! What adventures are you having this summer?

a list for friday–numbers

Number of friends on Facebook: 628

Number of “friends” I’ve never met: 134


Number of bruises on my hind end after mountain biking last week: 3

Number of times I fell off the bike: 3

Number of times I’ll probably go biking again: 0






Number of old boyfriends whose birthdays I still remember for no reason: 7

Number of days each year I forget to take my multivitamin: 359

Number of times I’ve moved since college: 6

Number expressing my love of moving: -1004


Number of times I asked All Natural Lawns & Landscape to mow my lawn the last two weeks while I traveled: 2

Number of times they actually mowed: 0

Number I had to count to before calling them and expressing my unhappiness: 20

Number of comments on the CS version of Tuesday’s post: 17

Number that said I was doing  “violence to Scripture and to the sovereign character of God”: 1

Number of times I’ve decided to read through the Bible in a year: 5

Number of times I’ve actually read through the Bible in a year: 1

Number of years I’ve committed to journaling: 3

Number of years I’ve consistently written in my journal: 0

(Number of minutes I looked online to see if “journalled” was a word: 4)

Number of years I plan to make either resolution again: 0


Number of dollars I owe in library fines:

let’s just say I’m not allowed to borrow any more books right now.

God does not have a plan for your life

I recently wrote this article for Christian Standard magazine, and I’m already getting lots of feedback on both sides of the issue. Click the link below to read the entire article on the CS site.

“God’s plan for your life isn’t a map you see all at once, but a scroll unrolled a little at a time, requiring faith,” Rick Warren recently tweeted.

“God will accelerate his plan for your life as you put your trust in him. God is giving you victory sooner than you think,” says Joel Osteen.

Less prominent Christians champion the theology as well. In responding to a new believer’s question about his career, a contributor to Bible-Knowledge.com writes, “God will now be the one to fully guide you into whatever jobs he will want you to have. . . . The choice is no longer yours! In the meantime, God will make sure you have enough money and support coming in to keep you afloat until this next job comes through.”

It is comforting to believe God has mapped out our future. It is exciting to think he’s bringing me victory. And I would love for God to make sure I have enough money while I passively wait for it to happen.

But unlike pastors Warren and Osteen, Mr. Bible-Knowledge, and many Christians I know, I don’t believe God has created a plan for my life—or for yours.


Problems with “The Plan”
–We take verses out of context

Jeremiah 29:11 is a cherished verse, frequently used for encouragement in graduation cards, post-breakup pep talks and, yes, job searches. (Well-meaning believers have recited it to me in all three contexts.) Along with The Bachelorette and people who refuse to vaccinate their children, its yanked-out-of-context use is one of the biggest pet peeves of my life.

Somehow we forget the grim reality surrounding this verse: amidst oracles of doom and judgment against Judah, Jeremiah says these words to comfort the people (as a group) with promises of eventual restoration and return from exile.

This is a bit different from claiming it as a guarantee of a fulfilling job, wonderful spouse, or ministry “call.”

Click here to read more, including why I find this theology harmful, why it lets American Christians feel special, and and what I do believe about God’s plan.

80/20

This weekend I told my family I spend 90% of my time doing things I don’t want to do.

(On further consideration I revised my estimate to a more generous 80%.)

So: about 80% of my life is comprised of housework, laundry, grocery shopping, preparing meals, packing, unpacking, exercising, filing, paying bills, balancing my checkbook, cranking out copy, staying on top of emails, sitting in airports, researching, attending meetings, managing websites, mowing my yard, running errands, and meeting other assorted deadlines.

That leaves 20% for what I want to do: work on writing projects I care about (like this blog), read good books, watch good movies, work in my garden and my flowerbeds, start projects in my house I may not finish, travel for fun, and spend time with people I care about.


Perhaps this is just another sign I try to do too much. I really like being a freelancer but it’s demoralizing to start the day knowing it’s not possible to finish everything. I’d probably categorize more of my paid work as “things I want to do” if I wasn’t constantly fighting the clock to fit it all in.

Or perhaps this is just what it means to be an adult. Am I thinking about this incorrectly? Is it wrong to want a 60/40 split?

What percentage of your time do you spend doing things you really don’t want to do?

a list for friday–unexplainable keywords people have used to find my blog

David Beckham’s feet

was Jennifer Taylor ever on Seinfeld?  

undercover boss Amway

wallpaper dancing Macarena

Pirates of the Caribbean eye makeup

people worshiping eggs

pictures of pancreatitis

I wasted my twenties on the wrong man

warning nude beach

write down the number of people are involved in the whole process of getting a loaf of bread

Дэвид Бэкхем  (There are a LOT of Beckham fans out there.)