2017 Book List

If you know me at all, you know I am an unashamed New Years Resolution junkie. I actually love them and take them seriously. I don't set impossible resolutions and I don't beat myself down when a resolution or two, (or seven) slip through the cracks. 

I enjoy ushering in the new year with renewed energy to tackle new habits. 

In January 2017, one of my resolutions was to read 24 books for the year. Two books per month. 

I knocked this one out of the park, which is super, since I crashed and burned on my resolution to go to the gym three times a week. 

Last year I read 37 books. (Crushed my goal!)

Good books. I'm so excited to share them with you. I have outlined my top five, with a quick blurb. If you're going to read anything in 2018... these five should be on your list!

1. Just Mercy: Bryan Stevenson: By far, the best book I read this year, perhaps the best I have ever read. It's gut wrenching, raw, and moving. I have never studied the injustices in the criminal justice system, but more than that, I am in awe by Bryan Stevenson and his colleagues unrelenting compassion, grace and mercy they offer to those who need it the most. 
2. Follow Me: David Platt: This book caused me to really answer what I believe about Jesus, when he said, "Follow Me." It has caused me to question everything in my life, including my complacency in faith as well as how I model the gospel. 
3. Radical: David Platt: I believe this book can be life changing for people.
4. At Home in the World: Tsh Oxenreider: This brave chic traveled the world for nine months, living out of a backpack, oh, and with her three children (all under the age of nine). She is my hero.
5. A Meal with Jesus: Tim Chester: Jesus is truly the master of hospitality. He knows exactly when and where to set the table for people. I have learned so much about Jesus and his heart for his people (spoiler alert.... ALL OF YOU are his people, even if you don't know it yet.) 

Seeking Refuge: Matthew Sorens, Issam Smeir and Stephan Bauman

Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World

Hope Unfolding: Becky Thompson (no... not me.)

Love Unending: Becky Thompson (again... not me)

Love Does: Bob Goff: I reread this every year... It's good for the soul.

The Bible: Um... yeah

Nothing to Prove: Jennie Allen

Love Lives Here: Maria Goff

Preemptive Love: Jeremy Courtney

Here Goes Nothing:  Kendra Broekhuis

The Christ of the Indian Road: E. Stanley Jones

Spiritual Multiplication in the Real World: Bob McNabb

Giddy Up Eunice: Sophie Hudson

Looking for Lovely: Annie Downs

The Road Back to You: Ian Morgan Cron

Mentoring 101: John Maxwell

How’s Your Soul: Judah Smith

The Four Dysfunctions of a Team: Patrick Lencioni

Of Mess and Moxie: Jen Hatmaker

The Life Giving Home: Sally Clarkson

The Hiding Place: Corrie ten Boom

Follow Me: David Platt… yes again!

Volunteer Revolution: Bill Hybels (Twice)

The Ideal Team Player: Patrick Lencioni

Redeeming Love: Francine Rivers

I Am Malala: Malala Yousafzai

Surprised by Motherhood: Lisa-Jo Baker

The Turquoise Table: Kristin Schell

Finding Jesus in the Exodus: Nicholas Perrin

The Sacrament of Happy: Lisa Harper

Gifted to Lead: Nancy Beach
Know Orphans: Rick Morton 

A Sinful Woman

A narration of the Biblical story in Luke 7

I have heard stories of a man, gifted with the power of God. People tell of beautiful stories and wondrous acts. Some call Him the Messiah. He heals people wherever He goes. I heard He healed a man with leprosy. The leper begged to be made clean, this Messiah actually reached out and touched the leper’s face and said “be clean,” and he was!

Now He is in town. He was invited to a meal with Simon the Pharisee. Why would He go? Pharisees tend to disagree with the teachings and pretty much everything He stands for.

When I heard He’d be there, I knew I had to go. How could I not? He was my last hope.

I’ve been told He is the Savior of the world, and if this is true, can He save me?

I snuck in the back, early, to make sure I could blend in with the servants who were there, greeting guests and washing their feet.

I looked around the room, no one noticed me at first. Surely, if they had, I would have been removed.

I’m unclean. I’m a sinner. Some have called me wicked and immoral. I am a social outcast. I have done things I am ashamed of. So very ashamed of. And no one will let me forget it. I feel terribly for what I have done and I live with constant angst and hurt because of it.

When Jesus walked in, I could barely breathe. “That’s Him,” I whispered to myself. Fighting every urge to run to Him, I held back, slowly walking behind the others, catching glimpses of Him between the huddle of people.

When Jesus reclined at the table, I was shocked when no one approached Him. 

No servant knelt to wash His feet, no kiss on His hand, and no oil for His head. Don’t these people know who He is?

I took a couple deep breathes, felt inside my cloak for the bottle of perfume I brought. It took all I had to take that first step toward Him. I stopped right behind Him and the tears began to well up in my eyes. 

I began to weep. I couldn’t even look at Him. I could barely stand. I dropped to my knees, His feet just inches from me.

My eyes were still down. How could I look at Him, after all I have done? I make my living in one of the oldest professions in the world and I spend my money on perfume, so that when I put it on, it masks the dirtiness of my life. 

My hands reached out and I did the only thing I could think of.

I washed His feet.

I had nothing but my tears, streaming down my face. It was as though all my sins, my unworthiness, washed out of me.

I felt as if washing the dirt off His feet was somehow washing all the dirt off of me.

I looked around for a towel but there was none. His feet, now clean, were too holy for me to use my stained garment. So I reached for my hair.

Still crying, I dried His feet with my hair, and opened the perfume. I had nothing else to offer Him.

Would He accept my humble offering?

As I poured out the perfume on His feet, Jesus began speaking to Simon the Pharisee, the host. They spoke about forgiveness and grace.

Then I heard, “Do you see this woman?”

“Please, no,” I silently pleaded. “Please don’t point me out. Please don’t look at me.”

All my hopes of anonymity were gone. Everyone was looking at me.

Who was I kidding? They all knew of me. They knew how I made money and I was often the talk of the town, hushed whispers when I walked through the market. But no one actually knows me. The real me. But maybe this Jesus does?

Jesus spoke again to Simon the Pharisee.

“Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven – for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.”

I paused and all was quiet in the room. I tried to process what I just heard, and then, Jesus looked directly at me. His eyes met mine. 

“Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Forgiven, faith, peace. I hadn’t said anything to Him. No confession of my sins, nor did I vocalize my faith. I didn’t share how hard life has been for me nor how I mourn for my sins.

He knew me. Surely He is the Messiah, for I was known by Him.

What If The Problem Is...

"Lord, open my eyes. Don't let me return the same."

This was my prayer as I boarded a plane headed for Tel Aviv last fall. This trip was going to take me into the depths of a people conflict that has been growing for decades. I had no idea what would come next, but I prayed and believed something would.

This prayer was my anthem on the trip. I met amazing women. Women waging peace. Women who lost loved ones, friends, belongings and property to this conflict. Women who refuse to be enemies with the other, and who welcome enemies into their homes. Each day we met women (Christian and non) who strive to bring peace to their communities and countries. 

When I returned home, the Lord answered my prayer. I did not return the same. God knows me and I believe He knew exactly how He was going to reach me… 

When my children were younger their cry would tug at my heart. 

Some cries were emergencies, where I would drop everything and run to them.

Some were the result of pain, a nagging ear-ache or cutting teeth. 

Some were a whimper. Like a child waking up early from a nap. I can still feel the cringe on my face. You know, the "I want to cry too," cringe? I just needed a few more moments of peace. 

Some cries were helpless. There was nothing I could do to help. I was just a desperate mom, seeking the next remedy or recipe to bring comfort to a restless child. 

When I resisted from jumping up and running to my child's side, the cries remained. I couldn't ignore them. I still heard them. I still felt them. 

These cries sit deep in my bones. 

And don’t the cries of God's children sound the same? Don’t they originate from the same sources of pain, angst, loneliness and helplessness? 

"How long will you ignore the cries of My children?"

That’s how God reached me. Just as I can't ignore the cries of my own children, I can't ignore the cries of God's children. 

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. James 1:27.

The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.' Matthew 25:40. 

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:13

Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Romans 12:13

If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Romans 12:18

God's word is very clear. But...

"I'm so busy. I really am." That's the first excuse which comes to mind.

Worldliness is contagious. "My son is growing. His knees bump up against my seat when he's in the back seat of our car. I really need a new car." 

"It's scary out there. I really like my safe and comfy bubble I live in." 

May I suggest, if we aren't intimately walking with the Lord, we aren't capable of seeing the world through His eyes?

"...but the people who know their God shall stand firm and take action." Daniel 11:32b (ESV)

A global trip might not be feasible for you right now, but there are some practical things you can do to see the world as God sees it and to love and care for His children.

Pray and spend time with Him. Ask for eyes to see the world and His children as He sees them.

Head to the nearest abandoned lot to pick up trash.

Pull your neighbor's weeds.

Host a neighborhood party.

Stand on the corner and hand out donuts as people leave for work in the morning.

Stand on the corner and hand out popsicles as people return home from work in the evening.

Smile and say "hello" to everyone you walk past. 

Stock the break room with popular goodies and snacks.

Leave your change, or pre-load money in vending machines.

Serve in ACTS at Central.

Stock local laundry mats by leaving coins in the machines. 

Sign up to be a CASA for the State Foster Care System.

Sponsor a child through organizations like Compassion, World Vision, Feed the Hungry.

Join a Multiply Group, (a globally focused Life Group). 

Help settle a refugee family.

Serve at Feed My Starving Children.

Shop at Fair Trade Companies like Amazima, Preemptive Love, Noonday, Seek the Peace.

"For this people’s heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them." Matthew 13:15.

Over the last few months, I have realized that the problem, in fact, is me. Father, forgive me. 

My lament

Listen to my words, Lord, consider my lament.
Hear my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray.

Psalm 5:1-2

Lament...

Lamenting...

These words are popping up, every direction I turn.

Today, it seems, we have plenty to lament about. Grief for the losses we have suffered. 

Regret for the relationships we can't seem to keep whole, no matter how hard we try. 

Disappointment for the conversations we need to have, but can't. 

They shout at me from my TV, and I read them in the words on my phone as I scroll through social media. As a women's ministry pastor, I hear them in the voices of the hurting.

My lament comes from my heart. It is not birthed out of our first-world problems or even first-world rights. It comes from you, my friends, and this time that we live in, navigating these waters together.

I lament today because I hear you, I see you and I carry these burdens with you.

I am brokenhearted today. My heart has been broken many days... specifically only the days where my mind allows my heart to "go there." It's much easier to keep my guard up. For me to build thicker walls. It's easier not to ask and it's easier to lean away rather than lean in.

My heart breaks for the labels. The same labels which we stand against and yet use in the very next sentence.

My heart breaks for the voices in the margins who are hushed by the megaphones of the privileged.

My heart breaks for the opinions that are shared, because, don't we have the right to share them? Yet, these words are spoken, often unfiltered, and only deepen the divide between us and the other.

My heart is broken that women - generation shapers - are harder on each other than our male-counterparts are on us.  Broken because we are each other's worst critic, only after ourselves, of course.

My heart breaks that we proclaim the love of Jesus on our Pinterest boards or in our 

Facebook posts, but that our flesh has the last world in the comment section.

My prayer for these times...

May I have a heart that is teachable, calm in the storm, cross-shaped.

May I have a spirit of meekness which shines as power and strength that is under control.

May my spirit be one that is gentle and loving, so that through every action, expression, movement of my body, thought in my mind and word spoken from my mouth not only glorify You, but also be a reflection to others of Christ in me.

May my actions prove, and may I be known, not for those things I stand for or stand against, but that I would be known as a humble servant who kneels. 

Amen.

There is no lament we carry that can not be laid at the feet of the Lord. May you place your requests before Him and wait expectantly. 

If I Only...

*Artwork by Daniel Cariola

It started out as a normal day. Normal for her, that is.
A beautiful woman, a child of God. With hopes and dreams, desires and a future. That is until the bleeding started.

For 12 years she had fought it. Sought physicians, remedies and more. Nothing helped. She "spent all she had, yet instead of getting better, she grew worse." (Mark 5:26).

Now, today, after resigning herself to her new normal, a life of being physically sick, constantly. A life labeled unclean, socially unacceptable, she started today as she did every day.

I'm not sure where she actually dwelled, but history tells us, even when accepted by your family, you are not fit to actually reside with them. Most likely she was cast out to a shack behind the family's home... and that's if she was lucky.

"I'm cursed," she tells herself. "I am unclean, I am unwelcome. I am unfit for relationship, for work, for having a life." But, such is life.

Now, today, it's been 12 years. How is she still living? Bleeding for 12 years. It's a miracle. But even more miraculous is what comes next...

Jesus the Christ is near. Just on the other side of the Sea of Galilee to be exact. He's traveling from village to village, often with swarms of crowds following Him, healing and preaching as He goes.

Today, as a matter of fact, He just healed a demon-possessed man. Casting out the demons from the man, sending them into a herd of pigs, while bystanders watched the nearly 2000 pigs rush over the cliff and into the water.

Losing a herd of pigs, a man's livelihood, doesn't typically sit well with villagers. In their shock of seeing this formerly demon-possessed man healed, and the despair of watching the loss of the pigs, the townspeople plead with Jesus... "leave."

So Jesus, gets in a boat and heads across the lake to Magdala, a sprawling fish village at the base of the eastern foothills of Mount Arbel.

Here, Jesus meets Jarius, a synagogue ruler, flustered and in a hurry, Jarius pleads with Jesus, "My daughter is dying. Please come and put Your hands on her so that she will be healed and live." (Mark 5:23).

And Jesus went.

Walking through a heavily populated marketplace, people everywhere, crowds bumping into and pressing on Jesus, we meet her.

She's heard the bustle and she knows He's here. This is her chance. She's heard He heals, that quite possibly just touching Him can heal someone.

"If I only...."

She says to herself. "If I only touch, even His clothes, I will be healed." (Mark 5:28)

And so she does. Silently and discreetly, she makes her way, across the ground, through the busy and moving legs. Inching across the stone floor.

Risking her life, she stretches out her hand.

And then it happens. Immediately the bleeding stopped. She knows her body, and she knows that instantly, she has been healed of her suffering.

But just as quickly as she entered, she pulls back, inching backward to leave quietly, Jesus calls out, "Who touched Me?" (Mark 5:30) And He looked around, searching, waiting for her to come forward.

Knowing she had been healed, and trembling with fear, she presented herself to Him.

"My daughter," He says, "Your faith has healed you. Go in peace, and be free from your suffering."

And very suddenly, men enter the scene and call to Jarius. And Jesus, Peter, James, John and Jarius move on to tend to Jarius' daughter.

I imagine the scene. She's still kneeling there. The crowd that had stopped to witness what happened has now returned to their hustling and bustling. How long does she stay there... processing?

She has a new life. No longer left cursed, to be cast out to a shack, to live among the displaced and untouchables.

I imagine after a few moments she recovers her bearings. Places her hands on the cold floor, she steadies herself and slowly stands up. Still bent over a bit, head hung low. And then, she smiles. She rolls her shoulders back, lifts her head high, plants her feet firmly on the ground. Perhaps she spins, turning 360 degrees, cautiously at first and growing with confidence.

One foot, propels her forward, as she begins her new journey.

And now there's me. And there's you. How many times have we said to ourselves, "If I only..." only, never to follow the thought with action?

Too many I fear.

But today is a new day, just as she can stand tall, no longer an outcast, we can stand tall in our faith. Knowing our Father waits patiently for us, to stretch out our hand to Him.

If I only will.

Intention

It's kind of a big deal... at least in some circles I run in.

Your word of the year.

To those who take it seriously, your "word" can affect every detail of your life, from the miniscule to the grand.

For me, my previous words have never had the effect on me as I believe 2017's word will.

I do believe it's the focus of my year, the call to my life that God has asked me to pursue.

This year I will act with intention. Live with intention. Speak with intention. Love with intention.

I will be purposeful in all I do. Not giving into idleness, sluggishness nor sheer laziness. (Hello Pinterest!)

Intention is a determination. My determination.

Each move I make, each word I say, will be on purpose. Not a commitment to be accountable for my actions, but a real and sincere decision to live each moment for my values.

To foster a home that is life-giving.

To build a legacy of rich heritage.

To cultivate honest, authentic relationships. Relationship which only time around my table, open hands and God's grace can offer.

To seek Jesus.

To make disciples.

To offer radical love.

To chase peace.