Hope and Be.Longing

Rock of My Salvation

August 22, 2017

Winter wanes and spring struggles. My faith mirrors the hyacinths outside my front door, straining up through cold stones, longing for sunlight.

Easter catches me by surprise and I admit my heart is not ready to celebrate Holy Week.

I stop by to visit my friends Pete and June, newly returned from their first trip to Israel. Maybe what they saw there will bring hope to my weary heart. Surely walking where Jesus walked brings new life to Easter, even when you’ve celebrated it for almost ninety years, as they have.

Stories of Hope, Belonging, and Longing

Crave

August 22, 2017

Belonging gives me roots which dig deep under the black soil, holding tight in life’s winds and rain. When I belong to others, I grow confident and steadfast.

But if I stop there, I am just a barren tree.

It’s when I crave what is more—when I crave what is MOST—that my branches bud and bloom with the hope of spring.

Stories of Hope, Belonging, and Longing

Not Far Away

August 22, 2017

I have friend whose middle name means “happy”. We’ve been friends since we were fourteen; he has known me longer than anyone outside of my family in the town where I now live. His father, a gentle man with olive skin, came to know Christ after the rest of his family had already done so. There is nothing that could’ve made my friend more happy. His father is from Syria.

I have a friend whose name means “victory”. She and I have shared tea together often, engaging in long conversations as she held my hand, her eyes full of tears, her intelligent mind struggling to learn our language. I have another friend whose name means “one who laughs”, who wears an almost constant wide smile (pictured above) and just moved to a small midwestern town to be a pastor. Both of these friends are from Iran.

Stories of Hope, Belonging, and Longing

Nita’s Smile

August 22, 2017

She smiles the whole time, even as cancer ravages her body. She smiles and sings. Her smile is alight with hope as she gazes on us from her front stoop, backlit by the warmth of her home.

We shiver and sing in the bitter wind, standing on the frozen grass.

I glance around, surrounded by a ragtag crowd whose voices warm the cold air. Neighbors, co-laborers, pastors, friends. All united in love for her. I wonder if all standing there know the only One who can comfort.

Stories of Hope, Belonging, and Longing

How to Love a Teenager

August 22, 2017

Who in your teen years mentored you? Was it a coach, youth leader, parent, or teacher? What difference did it make in your life?

In my last post, I gave five simple ways to open your home to teenagers. Now I want to add five ways to open your heart.

I spend a good chunk of time parenting my teenage sons and working with the girls in my youth group, and I love it. Here are some of the lessons I am learning:

Be real. Say you don’t know sometimes. Don’t always look perfect. Let them see your messes and hear about your worries. Laugh when you get it wrong. Love them when they are real: sweaty, grumpy, messy, emotional, and honest.
Be flexible. Include that last-minute friend for dinner, or wrap up the leftovers when your teenager decides Qdoba with friends sounds better than your taco salad. Be willing to grab coffee with a teenager when they are free, even if it’s a busy time of day. Allow a little more noise and chaos than you are comfortable with. Bring humor into tension.