**I originally wrote this for my classroom blog, but I really wanted to share it here too. I can't help but think of how many times we, as adults, don't try something because of time, or its scary, or its hard, or whatever other reason. Is there something you've always wanted to learn? Consider this your permission to dive in. Make it your own Genius Hour and contribute to the world in a new way.**
Well, here we are, five weeks into another school year, but I think it's time that I reveal my motto for this school year. Are you ready for this?
It's changing EVERYTHING for me.
It's like jumping off a high cliff...
and not being able to see through the water below.
Here it is:
WHY NOT?
Let me rewind a bit... I'm trying something new this year called Genius Hour which is basically allowing students to select, design, and pursue a passion of their own. It's student-centered learning at its finest, but, let me tell you, it. is. terrifying, but it's okay.
It's hard, but it's okay.
It's intimidating, but it's okay.
It's okay because I'm learning too.
You see, I'm a control-freak that hides under the guise of perfectionism, and Genius Hour requires me to let go of some control and let my students dig in to learning. And you guys. If they dig in, they're going to have to get to the "dirty" part of learning which is where trial and error happen, and where their limits are tested, and, sometimes, its where they fail. But here's the game changer: as humans, there have to be growing pains if we're going to grow.
But what had to change for me to make this jump? Mostly me.
I had to realize that it is OKAY if I fail (...*takes a deep breath in and out*...) because failure is okay.
Even when you're the teacher.
Even when you have the training.
Even though you've read all the books & blogs.
Even though you're the one with the degree.
SO. I've started running everything through the filter of WHY NOT?
A student wants to learn about politics and government, AND she wants to have her outside expert/resource be the current or a former president??? Why not try it and see what we get?
A student decides to make his project all about rebuilding his truck with his dad? Why not let him do all of that work outside of the classroom?
A student wants to become a motivational speaker? Why not help her start building her platform?
Another student wants to start a new club? Why not be the sponsor?
A student wants to learn more about elementary education? Why not connect her with a real-life class?
A student sees the need for young boys to have positive, male role models in his community? Why not help him start mentoring one?
Here's what I expected (and, if we're being honest, I secretly hoped for): nice, neat projects that were simple in nature. Neat in learning. Easy in guiding. Things like watching plants grow, learning a new language, picking up a new skill like crochet, learning a new sport, making an app or website or tech-based game. Things that have resources. Places other people have been. And of course, all the while, my students learning all those good life-skills they need, like overcoming failure and boosting their own confidence in their learning, all that feel-good stuff.
Here's what I got when I pitched Genius Hour to my students: messy projects that are going to delve into human nature. Complex projects that are going to make my students look at their community & peers differently. Difficult projects that involve trying something TOTALLY brand new. Their projects range from learning about their heritage, taking their skills to the next level, designing games and apps and videos that are "bigger picture," focusing on learning, overcoming mental health issues, and helping people laugh--and those are just a few.
I pitched the idea and got back passionate desires to go in directions nobody is even looking.
In the spirit of honesty, my initial reaction is to back out and say NO. WAY.
I hate to admit it, but my brain has said several times, let's think a little smaller... but instead, I've started saying why not?
Genius Hour in itself has become my own Genius Hour project. I'm going through each step, each learning opportunity, each process just like my students are. It's nerve-wracking, stressful, messy, and complex.
But more than anything? When I say "why not" even though I KNOW that something isn't going to work, I'm empowering my students. They aren't only learning all that feel-good, almost-cliche classroom stuff. They're learning about their own strengths and skills. They're exploring the realms of their own potential. They're being innovators, teachers, mentors, humanitarians--the guardians of what's good, what's better, and what's next.
You see, I've always known that I really do have world changers in my classroom. And, for perhaps the first time, some of them are starting to see it too.
Monday, October 2, 2017
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Just a _____________
Since the beginning of school, I've seen a lot of articles about the state of education and the teaching profession in general. Last week, one of my dear friends who is going through a teacher prep program share a all-too-familiar encounter with a gentleman who suggested that her career choice to be "just a teacher" was an "easy way out." It was so nice to see the comments of those who encouraged and validated her life's calling--including her peers, teachers, and others. I wanted to reply, but my answer turned into a blog post, hence, today's post. (And if you're not a teacher, hang in there... I have a point... I promise!)
But here's the thing. The "easy way out" is something I've heard myself. You guys, I actually had a teacher who told me I shouldn't be a teacher because I "had more to offer." So I know it hurts. It seeps in from some of the most unexpected areas of our lives sometimes. And it's a lie. It's one of the biggest lies I've ever let myself believe. It's such a big lie that I fear it's hurting our nation very near the future's core--these kids are our future. And these kids? They're down-right incredible. Step inside my classroom and see. The students of today need so much more than just teachers.
They need caring hands.
They need astute minds.
They need creative innovators.
They need intuitive spirits.
They need willing hearts.
They need resiliant wills.
They need relentless souls.
They need great educators.
My students? They are passionate, intelligent, and resilient. They love big, "feel" big, and want to do big things. They have hopes and dreams and goals that are so sweetly unique and beautiful in each of their own ways. They are so much more than "just students," so they need--and deserve--so much more than "just teachers."
If you can remember a teacher who had an impact on you, then this is what I'm talking about. What you probably didn't know is the hours they poured into their lessons. The days they labored to love you better, to love you more. The tears they cried over your struggles, your passions, and your victories. And if you're lucky, the prayers they prayed over you while you passed them in the hallway, wrote essays, and took tests.
Don't get me wrong, there are so many days I question my calling. There are so many other things that I would love to do. But there are so many other moments that humble me and put things into perspective--when a student pours their heart out in an essay; when the light bulb goes off for a struggling student; when an otherwise uninterested student gets excited; when my conference is interrupted by a student just wanting to talk; when I grade papers and see improvement by leaps and bounds. I could go on and on, but those are just the things that happened last week.
Maybe you know what if feels like to be degraded to "just a _____________. " Mulling this over for quite some time, I was reminded tonight in bible study about Jesus' parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30). The point of our gifts and our callings has nothing to do with us. It's all about how we get to share and grow them. Sure, we can keep them to ourselves or we could say, "oh, but it's 'just' a little thing," but that's not THE call. We get to make disciples. We could have an attitude of "just" or an attitude of "must."
How much more is God glorified when we find joy in every aspect of our lives?
How much more if God glorified when we feel an urgent need to fulfill the calling He has given us?
How much more is God glorified when we use our gifts to be multipliers for His kingdom?
Maybe, you feel like you're "just a _____________." Maybe, someone has made you feel small. Maybe, you look around and wonder what you even have to offer. Maybe, you just don't believe you're valued. I get that. I've been there. But the point of Jesus's parable is that with whatever we are given, we are to multiply it. We are to take our little or our lot and turn it into something more for the sake of the gospel. My friend, if you're a Jesus-follower, then that IS your call, it may just take other forms like teaching. And even if following Jesus is the only call you're sure of, believe me, it's enough. You might not think you have a lot to offer, but you have the gospel. And if you have the gospel, you have the single most important thing that can be shared with someone else--no matter your degree, your pay check, or your profession. Friend, there is so much fulfillment in taking action towards what God has called you to do. What would the world look like if we got over our justs and wildly pursued our musts?
But here's the thing. The "easy way out" is something I've heard myself. You guys, I actually had a teacher who told me I shouldn't be a teacher because I "had more to offer." So I know it hurts. It seeps in from some of the most unexpected areas of our lives sometimes. And it's a lie. It's one of the biggest lies I've ever let myself believe. It's such a big lie that I fear it's hurting our nation very near the future's core--these kids are our future. And these kids? They're down-right incredible. Step inside my classroom and see. The students of today need so much more than just teachers.
They need caring hands.
They need astute minds.
They need creative innovators.
They need intuitive spirits.
They need willing hearts.
They need resiliant wills.
They need relentless souls.
They need great educators.
My students? They are passionate, intelligent, and resilient. They love big, "feel" big, and want to do big things. They have hopes and dreams and goals that are so sweetly unique and beautiful in each of their own ways. They are so much more than "just students," so they need--and deserve--so much more than "just teachers."
If you can remember a teacher who had an impact on you, then this is what I'm talking about. What you probably didn't know is the hours they poured into their lessons. The days they labored to love you better, to love you more. The tears they cried over your struggles, your passions, and your victories. And if you're lucky, the prayers they prayed over you while you passed them in the hallway, wrote essays, and took tests.
Don't get me wrong, there are so many days I question my calling. There are so many other things that I would love to do. But there are so many other moments that humble me and put things into perspective--when a student pours their heart out in an essay; when the light bulb goes off for a struggling student; when an otherwise uninterested student gets excited; when my conference is interrupted by a student just wanting to talk; when I grade papers and see improvement by leaps and bounds. I could go on and on, but those are just the things that happened last week.
Maybe you know what if feels like to be degraded to "just a _____________. " Mulling this over for quite some time, I was reminded tonight in bible study about Jesus' parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30). The point of our gifts and our callings has nothing to do with us. It's all about how we get to share and grow them. Sure, we can keep them to ourselves or we could say, "oh, but it's 'just' a little thing," but that's not THE call. We get to make disciples. We could have an attitude of "just" or an attitude of "must."
How much more is God glorified when we find joy in every aspect of our lives?
How much more if God glorified when we feel an urgent need to fulfill the calling He has given us?
How much more is God glorified when we use our gifts to be multipliers for His kingdom?
Maybe, you feel like you're "just a _____________." Maybe, someone has made you feel small. Maybe, you look around and wonder what you even have to offer. Maybe, you just don't believe you're valued. I get that. I've been there. But the point of Jesus's parable is that with whatever we are given, we are to multiply it. We are to take our little or our lot and turn it into something more for the sake of the gospel. My friend, if you're a Jesus-follower, then that IS your call, it may just take other forms like teaching. And even if following Jesus is the only call you're sure of, believe me, it's enough. You might not think you have a lot to offer, but you have the gospel. And if you have the gospel, you have the single most important thing that can be shared with someone else--no matter your degree, your pay check, or your profession. Friend, there is so much fulfillment in taking action towards what God has called you to do. What would the world look like if we got over our justs and wildly pursued our musts?
Monday, September 5, 2016
My Life's Invitation
Well friends, since you are reading this, Warren and I have officially survived BACK-TO-SCHOOL Weeks 1 and 2. For this high school teacher and college minister husband, it is safe to say that the first couple of weeks back to school is one of our favorites, but it is also one of our busiest.
To be honest, having a foot in both worlds can be really difficult for me sometimes. Like, my husband gets paid to share the gospel and love on college students, many of whom I consider my friends. How cool is his job? Me? I drive to the cutest town in the middle of nowhere to work with junior high and high school students. I love my job. I love my students, but sometimes I don't always "get" my being called there. So, as I prepared for the school year, my scattered brain kept coming back to the question of "How can I show Jesus to my [public school] students better?" Over and over again (because I sometimes need "over and over again"), the answer was simple: You show them.
You just show them.
But... It can't be THAT easy?
It is. And here's what I've been learning.
I don't go to the same churches my students do. I don't live in the same community. My family's ministry is not directed in the same circles as their lives. How do I get to invite them to church if I live in a town 30 miles away?
Oh, but friend. It's not about the invitation to the event. It's about the life behind the invitation. In a way, I see that there are three different types of invitation. You've got the Facebook invitation--the "come one, come all" type that takes maybe 3 seconds and keeps your interest for about 2. Then there's the standard invitation. The kind that comes in the mail or is handed out by a friend. You are one of select group--whether it's 10 or 100--that will get this invitation. Nonetheless, there's still a feeling of making the cut, of being important enough to spend time addressing an envelope to you. Then there's a third kind, the Jesus kind. The come-and-see kind. The face-to-face, take-you-by-the-hand kind. The kind that brings you along to the most unforgettable experiences.
Now here me out, I have used and will use all three of those types of invitations. Facebook events have had my back on multiple occasions, but it's not the kind of invitation I'm talking about. I want to talk about the life-changing kind. The Jesus kind.
You see, my students will never remember what my husband does. They will never remember me as a "minister's wife" [hallelujah!]. They'll remember me as a teacher. And I hope they'll remember me as one that pushed them to be their best. One that asked for a higher standard. One that let them ask questions and make mistakes. One that rallied behind them. One that sends them out empowered and prepared. One that truly cares. One that loves them.
Because--between all of the face-to-face, verbal kind of teaching--that's what Jesus did for his disciples.
So, no, maybe it's not my place to invite them to my church. And maybe I'll never get to share the gospel with each one of my dearies face-to-face. But my life is an invitation. The one they never knew they were watching. A source of prayers they have never heard. I pray that someday when each one begins to count the costs, he/she can look back and understand. And for my students who I have been able to share with, and the ones who know me as a Jesus-follower, and the ones who I know are believers--I hope the invitation is just as sweet. One that invites them into a life of passionately pursing Christ in all circumstances.
You guys, if I really have faith that someday ALL of the prayers prayed over their sweet lives will come to pass, I have to have faith that my life's invitation is enough.
I am hyper-aware of the power of the invitation. You see, our college minsitry could pass out flyers and cards all day. We could text random numbers. We could host 10 thousand amazing events. All of that would count for something, but it will never build a strong, lasting ministry. It takes the invitation. The personal one-on-one contact. The lives we live before and after are just as important to the invitation as the words themselves. I have to be aware of what my life-invitation is--in all circumstances at all times, whether I'm at school or the store or on campus:
Is it a gloss-over, I'm asking you because you're on "my list"?
Is it an invitation with delicate designs and fancy lettering that is exclusive?
Or is it an invitation that is inclusive and special. One that is extended far and wide, but still intimate and sincere?
Over and over again, I think about the invitations in the New Testament. When Jesus calls his disciples, there had to be something so sincere and intimate in his voice that makes them drop their nets and leave everything. And I'm pretty sure the crowds that gathered over and over again didn't abandon all their plans (let's be real--they didn't even pack a lunch), to go see a man named Jesus because of a Facebook invite. And I'm definitely sure that the woman at the well was a recipient of many delicate, exclusive invitations. Jesus lived the third kind. Jesus' life-invitation was so inclusive everyone can be invited. But it is one so special and intimate and sincere that it went to the cross to redeem each one of us.
This time of year in college ministry is all about connecting and establishing relationships. So we do a lot of inviting. We invite students to events. We invite them out to coffee. We invite them into loving church homes. All the while, we are inviting them into ministry and into friendships. We could do any of the three types of invitations, but it'll be the Jesus kind of life-inviting that makes a difference. Hopefully, with our actions and our words, we get the opportunity to invite them into a relationship with Christ. And even if that doesn't get to be us directly, you better believe that every single invitation up to that point matters, especially the way we live our lives.
To be honest, having a foot in both worlds can be really difficult for me sometimes. Like, my husband gets paid to share the gospel and love on college students, many of whom I consider my friends. How cool is his job? Me? I drive to the cutest town in the middle of nowhere to work with junior high and high school students. I love my job. I love my students, but sometimes I don't always "get" my being called there. So, as I prepared for the school year, my scattered brain kept coming back to the question of "How can I show Jesus to my [public school] students better?" Over and over again (because I sometimes need "over and over again"), the answer was simple: You show them.
You just show them.
But... It can't be THAT easy?
It is. And here's what I've been learning.
I don't go to the same churches my students do. I don't live in the same community. My family's ministry is not directed in the same circles as their lives. How do I get to invite them to church if I live in a town 30 miles away?
Oh, but friend. It's not about the invitation to the event. It's about the life behind the invitation. In a way, I see that there are three different types of invitation. You've got the Facebook invitation--the "come one, come all" type that takes maybe 3 seconds and keeps your interest for about 2. Then there's the standard invitation. The kind that comes in the mail or is handed out by a friend. You are one of select group--whether it's 10 or 100--that will get this invitation. Nonetheless, there's still a feeling of making the cut, of being important enough to spend time addressing an envelope to you. Then there's a third kind, the Jesus kind. The come-and-see kind. The face-to-face, take-you-by-the-hand kind. The kind that brings you along to the most unforgettable experiences.
Now here me out, I have used and will use all three of those types of invitations. Facebook events have had my back on multiple occasions, but it's not the kind of invitation I'm talking about. I want to talk about the life-changing kind. The Jesus kind.
You see, my students will never remember what my husband does. They will never remember me as a "minister's wife" [hallelujah!]. They'll remember me as a teacher. And I hope they'll remember me as one that pushed them to be their best. One that asked for a higher standard. One that let them ask questions and make mistakes. One that rallied behind them. One that sends them out empowered and prepared. One that truly cares. One that loves them.
Because--between all of the face-to-face, verbal kind of teaching--that's what Jesus did for his disciples.
So, no, maybe it's not my place to invite them to my church. And maybe I'll never get to share the gospel with each one of my dearies face-to-face. But my life is an invitation. The one they never knew they were watching. A source of prayers they have never heard. I pray that someday when each one begins to count the costs, he/she can look back and understand. And for my students who I have been able to share with, and the ones who know me as a Jesus-follower, and the ones who I know are believers--I hope the invitation is just as sweet. One that invites them into a life of passionately pursing Christ in all circumstances.
You guys, if I really have faith that someday ALL of the prayers prayed over their sweet lives will come to pass, I have to have faith that my life's invitation is enough.
I am hyper-aware of the power of the invitation. You see, our college minsitry could pass out flyers and cards all day. We could text random numbers. We could host 10 thousand amazing events. All of that would count for something, but it will never build a strong, lasting ministry. It takes the invitation. The personal one-on-one contact. The lives we live before and after are just as important to the invitation as the words themselves. I have to be aware of what my life-invitation is--in all circumstances at all times, whether I'm at school or the store or on campus:
Is it a gloss-over, I'm asking you because you're on "my list"?
Is it an invitation with delicate designs and fancy lettering that is exclusive?
Or is it an invitation that is inclusive and special. One that is extended far and wide, but still intimate and sincere?
Over and over again, I think about the invitations in the New Testament. When Jesus calls his disciples, there had to be something so sincere and intimate in his voice that makes them drop their nets and leave everything. And I'm pretty sure the crowds that gathered over and over again didn't abandon all their plans (let's be real--they didn't even pack a lunch), to go see a man named Jesus because of a Facebook invite. And I'm definitely sure that the woman at the well was a recipient of many delicate, exclusive invitations. Jesus lived the third kind. Jesus' life-invitation was so inclusive everyone can be invited. But it is one so special and intimate and sincere that it went to the cross to redeem each one of us.
This time of year in college ministry is all about connecting and establishing relationships. So we do a lot of inviting. We invite students to events. We invite them out to coffee. We invite them into loving church homes. All the while, we are inviting them into ministry and into friendships. We could do any of the three types of invitations, but it'll be the Jesus kind of life-inviting that makes a difference. Hopefully, with our actions and our words, we get the opportunity to invite them into a relationship with Christ. And even if that doesn't get to be us directly, you better believe that every single invitation up to that point matters, especially the way we live our lives.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
One Story to Tell
I love the song "Living Well" by Switchfoot. There is a lot to unpack in the song, but I love the part where the chorus declares:
Life is short; I want to live it well.
One life, one story to tell.
After a recent trip mission trip to Oregon with my beloved church family, I left another little piece of my heart in the beautiful Northwest. Mission trips are funny because we always seem ready to go do the work God has planned for you, but more often we are more impacted by the work God does on us while we are there. This trip was no different.
I've been on enough mission trips to know that I didn't want nor did I need to have expectations, so I showed up with none. Actually, that's a lie. I showed up without too many personal expectations. I DID expect God to work. I expected my church to fall in love with the Northwest. I expected all the good things that people walk away with after reaching out into an unknown way of life. I expected nothing less than God to do what he does, and maybe get something more out of it for myself along the way.
On the last night, we teamed up with a ministry called Under the Bridge which does homeless ministry throughout the city of Portland. If you don't know anything about the Northwest or Portland, you should know that Portland has a lot of homeless people. For the most part, the weather is decently comfortable all year round and there are a lot of different outreaches that help take care of the city's thousands of homeless. Our group was signed up to do "walk abouts" where we literally walked around downtown with sandwiches and coffee for those who were not going to make it to the place where Under the Bridge had set up food, hair cutting, etc. It was about 7 or so, so many would be "bedding down" and finishing their resting place for the night.
As my smaller group set out--I think, safe to say, all a little outside of our comfort zones--I just asked God to do whatever He was going to do. Since it was the last night, I was also trying to process my experience and take in the city as much as I could. I had almost finished the book The Same Kind of Different as Me (an awesome testimony about how God changes our hearts through the story of a rich man who befriends a homeless man), so I was hyper aware of the need. I wanted my heart to be fully present and fully willing to love-on with whomever we may come into contact.
The lasting impression, as we set off for the evening, was this: We all have a story.
Well, I'll say it for you. DUH. It seems obvious, but as the night went on and as we came home, I realized that there was such a beautiful and more important lesson.
In the beginning of the week half of our team split up to go and work in Tillamook, Oregon while the other half stayed and worked in Portland. After spending 3 days with some of the most loving and sincere people I have ever met at Life Change Christian Fellowship in Tillamook, I know that no matter how we "arrive" into God's family, we all have a story.
When we rejoined our team in Portland, we got to listen to the work God was doing. Later, at a block party which hosted a rougher neighborhood, men from a half-way house, and countless others, our team members got to introduce and share the story of what God was doing that week.
At the same block party, TWO people's stories' were wildly and eternally changed when they choose to follow and begin a relationship with Jesus.
So, on that night, as we met with homeless, many uninterested in anything but the free PB&J, I tried to stay focused on loving well. I tried to remember, that no matter how or where or why they were where they were--they had a story. And I could tell you a lot more about the people we met, especially one Navy veteran named Patrick who God used to speak so much to my own heart, but I won't because it's not my story to share.
But here's the point. Here's the impression God has left on my heart.
We all have stories. Stories that make us laugh. Stories that make us cry.
We all have stories. And each and every one of those stories is precious.
So precious, that Jesus thought they were worth dying for.
Every. single. one.
Do you believe that? That you are so valuable, that you are so loved, that you are so precious to the King of kings that your story--no matter the ups, downs, or wrong turns--is worth something so much more.
You see, I left Portland the next day so grateful for the ultimate story. The one where Jesus, the son of God, chose to come and live a perfect life among the imperfect. The one where despite being sinless, he sat with sinners. The one about how even though mankind couldn't understand, Jesus went to the cross to die as a perfect sacrifice on our behalf. The one that didn't end there because Jesus came back. The ultimate story--the one that promises eternal life; the one that forgives the unforgivable; the one that loves the unlovable. That story. That's my favorite.
And do you know what I find the most beautiful?
Our stories all get woven together as we live our lives. You become part of other's stories, you star in stories you weren't even aware of, you make brief appearances in others, and still others you simply cross paths for a time before fading out. But, we are all part of humanity. As believers, we are all apart of the Church. And when you look close, you see each little thread that makes up our own stories. But when you step back, you see the Church. You see God. Because, while all our stories are oh-so-important, they come together to point back to the author.
I could write a book about all that I saw and did in Oregon this summer. I could write a trilogy about how miraculously and perfectly God works, but I would much rather invite you into what God is doing in your own church, in your own community, as well as throughout the world.
The next line in the chorus of that song is "life is short; I want to live it well / And You're the One I'm living for."
Are you letting God be the author of your story?
Life is short; I want to live it well.
One life, one story to tell.
After a recent trip mission trip to Oregon with my beloved church family, I left another little piece of my heart in the beautiful Northwest. Mission trips are funny because we always seem ready to go do the work God has planned for you, but more often we are more impacted by the work God does on us while we are there. This trip was no different.
I've been on enough mission trips to know that I didn't want nor did I need to have expectations, so I showed up with none. Actually, that's a lie. I showed up without too many personal expectations. I DID expect God to work. I expected my church to fall in love with the Northwest. I expected all the good things that people walk away with after reaching out into an unknown way of life. I expected nothing less than God to do what he does, and maybe get something more out of it for myself along the way.
On the last night, we teamed up with a ministry called Under the Bridge which does homeless ministry throughout the city of Portland. If you don't know anything about the Northwest or Portland, you should know that Portland has a lot of homeless people. For the most part, the weather is decently comfortable all year round and there are a lot of different outreaches that help take care of the city's thousands of homeless. Our group was signed up to do "walk abouts" where we literally walked around downtown with sandwiches and coffee for those who were not going to make it to the place where Under the Bridge had set up food, hair cutting, etc. It was about 7 or so, so many would be "bedding down" and finishing their resting place for the night.
As my smaller group set out--I think, safe to say, all a little outside of our comfort zones--I just asked God to do whatever He was going to do. Since it was the last night, I was also trying to process my experience and take in the city as much as I could. I had almost finished the book The Same Kind of Different as Me (an awesome testimony about how God changes our hearts through the story of a rich man who befriends a homeless man), so I was hyper aware of the need. I wanted my heart to be fully present and fully willing to love-on with whomever we may come into contact.
The lasting impression, as we set off for the evening, was this: We all have a story.
Well, I'll say it for you. DUH. It seems obvious, but as the night went on and as we came home, I realized that there was such a beautiful and more important lesson.
In the beginning of the week half of our team split up to go and work in Tillamook, Oregon while the other half stayed and worked in Portland. After spending 3 days with some of the most loving and sincere people I have ever met at Life Change Christian Fellowship in Tillamook, I know that no matter how we "arrive" into God's family, we all have a story.
When we rejoined our team in Portland, we got to listen to the work God was doing. Later, at a block party which hosted a rougher neighborhood, men from a half-way house, and countless others, our team members got to introduce and share the story of what God was doing that week.
At the same block party, TWO people's stories' were wildly and eternally changed when they choose to follow and begin a relationship with Jesus.
So, on that night, as we met with homeless, many uninterested in anything but the free PB&J, I tried to stay focused on loving well. I tried to remember, that no matter how or where or why they were where they were--they had a story. And I could tell you a lot more about the people we met, especially one Navy veteran named Patrick who God used to speak so much to my own heart, but I won't because it's not my story to share.
But here's the point. Here's the impression God has left on my heart.
We all have stories. Stories that make us laugh. Stories that make us cry.
We all have stories. And each and every one of those stories is precious.
So precious, that Jesus thought they were worth dying for.
Every. single. one.
Do you believe that? That you are so valuable, that you are so loved, that you are so precious to the King of kings that your story--no matter the ups, downs, or wrong turns--is worth something so much more.
You see, I left Portland the next day so grateful for the ultimate story. The one where Jesus, the son of God, chose to come and live a perfect life among the imperfect. The one where despite being sinless, he sat with sinners. The one about how even though mankind couldn't understand, Jesus went to the cross to die as a perfect sacrifice on our behalf. The one that didn't end there because Jesus came back. The ultimate story--the one that promises eternal life; the one that forgives the unforgivable; the one that loves the unlovable. That story. That's my favorite.
And do you know what I find the most beautiful?
Our stories all get woven together as we live our lives. You become part of other's stories, you star in stories you weren't even aware of, you make brief appearances in others, and still others you simply cross paths for a time before fading out. But, we are all part of humanity. As believers, we are all apart of the Church. And when you look close, you see each little thread that makes up our own stories. But when you step back, you see the Church. You see God. Because, while all our stories are oh-so-important, they come together to point back to the author.
I could write a book about all that I saw and did in Oregon this summer. I could write a trilogy about how miraculously and perfectly God works, but I would much rather invite you into what God is doing in your own church, in your own community, as well as throughout the world.
The next line in the chorus of that song is "life is short; I want to live it well / And You're the One I'm living for."
Are you letting God be the author of your story?
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