by Margot Starbuck
In the recent Tina Fey and Steve Carrell movie, Date Night, the married couple discretely peeks over their menus, eyeballing other couples in a fancy restaurant. Nodding toward a couple at the next table, one spouse asking the other, “What’s the story?” With only the information that could be gleaned from a glance, one partner playfully creates a fictional story about those dining.
We glean information about others, about who they are, with a single glance.
My husband and I played a similar game when we were dating. If a couple at the next table looked distracted or bored, we’d jump to the conclusion, “They’re married.” Yet if a couple appeared to be completely enamored with one another, if their faces communicated an entirely unconditional love and acceptance of the other, we figured, “Not married.” We began to call that starry-eyed gaze, the one that says, “There is not one single thing I’d change about who you are,” The Look of Unconditional Love and Acceptance, or more simply, the Loulaa.
This fun party trick is not just for romantic situations. I suspect you’ve seen that look of delight on the face of a giddy grandparent, or a proud aunt, or—I am assured by animal lovers—on the sloppy face of your crazed dog when you walk in the front door after a long day. The Loulaa simply communicates to another that she or he is entirely beloved and accepted as they are.
We give information to others, about who they are, with a single glance.
Saturated with the conviction that another has been entirely loved by God in Jesus Christ—regardless of how she looks, how she performs, or who she knows–the Loulaa communicates that she is entirely precious.
Sisters, this is something that we do with our bodies! With our eyes and mouths and faces we communicate to another that she is altogether beloved by God. When we walk by an immigrant on the sidewalk, our faces communicate, “You belong.” When we interact with others who serve our food, our eyes communicate, “You are entirely accepted.” When we encounter someone whose race or religion is different than our own, our faces reflect, “You are beloved.”
When Jesus encountered a woman from Samaria who was the wrong religion, the wife of five husbands and mistress of one, I have to believe that what she saw on his face was the Loulaa. Nothing else makes sense. After encountering a stranger who called her out on her sin, she skips away to share the good news with others. I am convinced that—regardless of her virtue—she encountered a face that communicated her undeniable value and belovedness.
My husband and I just celebrated our fifteenth anniversary. Though the Loulaa has indeed given way to all sorts of other expressions, it remains the truest incarnation of God’s own face. It’s not one that denies sin, like a giddy infatuated lover, but rather, like Jesus, communicates a reality much more powerful than the hissing lies of the deceiver.
You do this, too. Do it wisely.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Leadership 101
by Angie Weszely
I’m almost embarrassed to share a key leadership lesson I’ve been learning recently. Embarrassed because it feels like something I should have learned well before my forties. But I didn’t. And just in case there is anyone else out there like me, and because this lesson has been so life-changing, I want to lay it out there.
“Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.” (John 15:4, The Message)
When I came into my current leadership position four years ago, I felt unprepared. No, actually clueless, about what I would need to do to lead an organization. Determined to learn the ropes before people found me out, I read every book, attended every conference, and asked advice from every leader I could find. I took frantic notes, had planning days to figure out how to implement new ideas, and did put a lot of great structure in place. But then something happened. My team asked me not to go to any more leadership conferences, because they were overwhelmed trying to implement all my new ideas!
After about two years of this, I was exhausted. One day, as I was trying to get even more leadership advice from a trusted friend, she began to ask me questions about my relationship with God. How were my times with him? (Um…listening to worship music during my commute?) What kind of space or margin was I making for spiritual refreshment? (Margin? With a full-time job and two kids?) I started squirming a bit, because I knew where she was headed.
So I started replacing my leadership books with Dallas Willard books. And my leadership conferences with spiritual formation retreats. And asking advice from other leaders with asking God to speak to me. Not because any the pursuit of leadership brilliance was wrong or unimportant, but because I had been neglecting the more essential leadership training – being a branch and drawing nourishment from the Vine.
And God met me. He didn’t scold me, he refreshed me and filled me up and spoke to me. And I was amazed to find that leading was much more enjoyable when I was drawing life from the Vine. Not only more enjoyable, but more wise. As I asked for wisdom he guided me into even better decisions. Once, at a brainstorming meeting for new wording for our messaging, we got stuck and ended with no resolution on one particular category. I left the meeting frustrated, shut the door to my office and said, “God, how do we say this?” Immediately a word popped into my mind and that word is still a key part of our messaging today. What we couldn’t solve in a two-hour meeting, God solved in two minutes!
I’m still on this journey, still learning these lessons two years later. I want to keep growing in my dependence on God; to pray instead of trying to control outcomes: to make space for God when things at work are the most hectic; to spend more time relishing the life that comes from sitting at the feet of the ultimate Leader.
How about you? I would love to hear ways you make space for God as a leader.
Angie Weszely is President of Caris Pregnancy Counseling and Resources, a Christian organization providing hope and support to women facing unplanned pregnancies. Angie is passionate about offering holistic and innovative solutions to the divisive issue of abortion, and about mobilizing Christians to be a compassionate voice for both women and children.
I’m almost embarrassed to share a key leadership lesson I’ve been learning recently. Embarrassed because it feels like something I should have learned well before my forties. But I didn’t. And just in case there is anyone else out there like me, and because this lesson has been so life-changing, I want to lay it out there.
“Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.” (John 15:4, The Message)
When I came into my current leadership position four years ago, I felt unprepared. No, actually clueless, about what I would need to do to lead an organization. Determined to learn the ropes before people found me out, I read every book, attended every conference, and asked advice from every leader I could find. I took frantic notes, had planning days to figure out how to implement new ideas, and did put a lot of great structure in place. But then something happened. My team asked me not to go to any more leadership conferences, because they were overwhelmed trying to implement all my new ideas!
After about two years of this, I was exhausted. One day, as I was trying to get even more leadership advice from a trusted friend, she began to ask me questions about my relationship with God. How were my times with him? (Um…listening to worship music during my commute?) What kind of space or margin was I making for spiritual refreshment? (Margin? With a full-time job and two kids?) I started squirming a bit, because I knew where she was headed.
So I started replacing my leadership books with Dallas Willard books. And my leadership conferences with spiritual formation retreats. And asking advice from other leaders with asking God to speak to me. Not because any the pursuit of leadership brilliance was wrong or unimportant, but because I had been neglecting the more essential leadership training – being a branch and drawing nourishment from the Vine.
And God met me. He didn’t scold me, he refreshed me and filled me up and spoke to me. And I was amazed to find that leading was much more enjoyable when I was drawing life from the Vine. Not only more enjoyable, but more wise. As I asked for wisdom he guided me into even better decisions. Once, at a brainstorming meeting for new wording for our messaging, we got stuck and ended with no resolution on one particular category. I left the meeting frustrated, shut the door to my office and said, “God, how do we say this?” Immediately a word popped into my mind and that word is still a key part of our messaging today. What we couldn’t solve in a two-hour meeting, God solved in two minutes!
I’m still on this journey, still learning these lessons two years later. I want to keep growing in my dependence on God; to pray instead of trying to control outcomes: to make space for God when things at work are the most hectic; to spend more time relishing the life that comes from sitting at the feet of the ultimate Leader.
How about you? I would love to hear ways you make space for God as a leader.
Angie Weszely is President of Caris Pregnancy Counseling and Resources, a Christian organization providing hope and support to women facing unplanned pregnancies. Angie is passionate about offering holistic and innovative solutions to the divisive issue of abortion, and about mobilizing Christians to be a compassionate voice for both women and children.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
What is Truly "Relevant" Anyway?
by Tracey Bianchi
Church attendance in the US is on a downslope. Researchers like George Barna point out that while growth happens, in most cases a booming new church on the corner means a congregation down the street is closing up shop. Leaders wonder what it will take to flip this trend, with many tossing around solutions that include words like relevant.
Webster defines relevant as “having significance to the matter at hand.” I know, still vague. For some this significance means adjusting music, wardrobe, sermon style or church location. When I lived in Colorado significance meant mid-week worship so outdoor enthusiasts could disappear into the backcountry for a whole weekend.
For others significance means candles or liturgy, homeless shelters or social justice. Or perhaps, videos, hair gel and Rob Bell glasses. But ultimately, each community must discover for itself what God has deemed relevant to the matters he has placed in its hands. I find my proverbial feathers ruffled when I hear leaders prescribe overarching fixes for the church universal; leaders who wax eloquent about how exactly we all should rise from our slumber.
Here’s the list I typically hear: stay fashionably detached, rally around flashy justice issues, wear vintage t-shirts highlighting those issues, hang out in local coffee shops, lament the church every chance you get and always vote in a particular direction.
Now I don’t have a problem with any of these issues. I support global micro-enterprise, advocate for those in need and drink plenty of local coffee. I even sport my own t-shirt or two on occasion and believe justice is a mandate from God, not an option.
What I am adamantly against is the prevailing ethos that says a thoughtful and relevant leader must be about these pursuits, especially since Jesus does not strike me as overly trendy. And while he prescribed universal fixes for our world (justice, love, mercy), the manner in which he carried these out varied depending on his context.
Back to Webster. To be relevant is to have significance to the matter at hand. Frankly, not every matter is as sexy to the world as the list above. When we pastor and lead the elderly, relevance may look different. The “matters at hand” are aging with grace and leaving a legacy. Relevance when my grandmother passed was sitting at her bedside listening to Benny Goodman. When the matter at hand is holding a dying infant or comforting a family who lost a child, no one really cares how you voted or if your coffee is Fair Trade Certified; they want to know that you will listen.
Relevance is a shifting notion that ebbs and flows with our lives and the people we walk alongside. No longer does it make sense to offer sweeping prescriptions for what makes a church relevant. Rather than chase the trends of national leaders perhaps we should simply engage with the matters at hand—the lives God places before us each day. And if we relish these lives, obsessing over their well-being rather than a trend, we may just find ourselves utterly and indescribably relevant indeed.
Tracey Bianchi is a freelance writer, Women’s Pastor and speaker. Her book “Green Mama: The Guilt-Free Guide to Helping You and Your Kids Save the Planet” (Zondervan) is available on Amazon.
Church attendance in the US is on a downslope. Researchers like George Barna point out that while growth happens, in most cases a booming new church on the corner means a congregation down the street is closing up shop. Leaders wonder what it will take to flip this trend, with many tossing around solutions that include words like relevant.
Webster defines relevant as “having significance to the matter at hand.” I know, still vague. For some this significance means adjusting music, wardrobe, sermon style or church location. When I lived in Colorado significance meant mid-week worship so outdoor enthusiasts could disappear into the backcountry for a whole weekend.
For others significance means candles or liturgy, homeless shelters or social justice. Or perhaps, videos, hair gel and Rob Bell glasses. But ultimately, each community must discover for itself what God has deemed relevant to the matters he has placed in its hands. I find my proverbial feathers ruffled when I hear leaders prescribe overarching fixes for the church universal; leaders who wax eloquent about how exactly we all should rise from our slumber.
Here’s the list I typically hear: stay fashionably detached, rally around flashy justice issues, wear vintage t-shirts highlighting those issues, hang out in local coffee shops, lament the church every chance you get and always vote in a particular direction.
Now I don’t have a problem with any of these issues. I support global micro-enterprise, advocate for those in need and drink plenty of local coffee. I even sport my own t-shirt or two on occasion and believe justice is a mandate from God, not an option.
What I am adamantly against is the prevailing ethos that says a thoughtful and relevant leader must be about these pursuits, especially since Jesus does not strike me as overly trendy. And while he prescribed universal fixes for our world (justice, love, mercy), the manner in which he carried these out varied depending on his context.
Back to Webster. To be relevant is to have significance to the matter at hand. Frankly, not every matter is as sexy to the world as the list above. When we pastor and lead the elderly, relevance may look different. The “matters at hand” are aging with grace and leaving a legacy. Relevance when my grandmother passed was sitting at her bedside listening to Benny Goodman. When the matter at hand is holding a dying infant or comforting a family who lost a child, no one really cares how you voted or if your coffee is Fair Trade Certified; they want to know that you will listen.
Relevance is a shifting notion that ebbs and flows with our lives and the people we walk alongside. No longer does it make sense to offer sweeping prescriptions for what makes a church relevant. Rather than chase the trends of national leaders perhaps we should simply engage with the matters at hand—the lives God places before us each day. And if we relish these lives, obsessing over their well-being rather than a trend, we may just find ourselves utterly and indescribably relevant indeed.
Tracey Bianchi is a freelance writer, Women’s Pastor and speaker. Her book “Green Mama: The Guilt-Free Guide to Helping You and Your Kids Save the Planet” (Zondervan) is available on Amazon.
What is Truly "Relevant" Anyway?
by Tracey Bianchi
Church attendance in the US is on a downslope. Researchers like George Barna point out that while growth happens, in most cases a booming new church on the corner means a congregation down the street is closing up shop. Leaders wonder what it will take to flip this trend, with many tossing around solutions that include words like relevant.
Webster defines relevant as “having significance to the matter at hand.” I know, still vague. For some this significance means adjusting music, wardrobe, sermon style or church location. When I lived in Colorado significance meant mid-week worship so outdoor enthusiasts could disappear into the backcountry for a whole weekend.
For others significance means candles or liturgy, homeless shelters or social justice. Or perhaps, videos, hair gel and Rob Bell glasses. But ultimately, each community must discover for itself what God has deemed relevant to the matters he has placed in its hands. I find my proverbial feathers ruffled when I hear leaders prescribe overarching fixes for the church universal; leaders who wax eloquent about how exactly we all should rise from our slumber.
Here’s the list I typically hear: stay fashionably detached, rally around flashy justice issues, wear vintage t-shirts highlighting those issues, hang out in local coffee shops, lament the church every chance you get and always vote in a particular direction.
Now I don’t have a problem with any of these issues. I support global micro-enterprise, advocate for those in need and drink plenty of local coffee. I even sport my own t-shirt or two on occasion and believe justice is a mandate from God, not an option.
What I am adamantly against is the prevailing ethos that says a thoughtful and relevant leader must be about these pursuits, especially since Jesus does not strike me as overly trendy. And while he prescribed universal fixes for our world (justice, love, mercy), the manner in which he carried these out varied depending on his context.
Back to Webster. To be relevant is to have significance to the matter at hand. Frankly, not every matter is as sexy to the world as the list above. When we pastor and lead the elderly, relevance may look different. The “matters at hand” are aging with grace and leaving a legacy. Relevance when my grandmother passed was sitting at her bedside listening to Benny Goodman. When the matter at hand is holding a dying infant or comforting a family who lost a child, no one really cares how you voted or if your coffee is Fair Trade Certified; they want to know that you will listen.
Relevance is a shifting notion that ebbs and flows with our lives and the people we walk alongside. No longer does it make sense to offer sweeping prescriptions for what makes a church relevant. Rather than chase the trends of national leaders perhaps we should simply engage with the matters at hand—the lives God places before us each day. And if we relish these lives, obsessing over their well-being rather than a trend, we may just find ourselves utterly and indescribably relevant indeed.
Tracey Bianchi is a freelance writer, Women’s Pastor and speaker. Her book “Green Mama: The Guilt-Free Guide to Helping You and Your Kids Save the Planet” (Zondervan) is available on Amazon.
Church attendance in the US is on a downslope. Researchers like George Barna point out that while growth happens, in most cases a booming new church on the corner means a congregation down the street is closing up shop. Leaders wonder what it will take to flip this trend, with many tossing around solutions that include words like relevant.
Webster defines relevant as “having significance to the matter at hand.” I know, still vague. For some this significance means adjusting music, wardrobe, sermon style or church location. When I lived in Colorado significance meant mid-week worship so outdoor enthusiasts could disappear into the backcountry for a whole weekend.
For others significance means candles or liturgy, homeless shelters or social justice. Or perhaps, videos, hair gel and Rob Bell glasses. But ultimately, each community must discover for itself what God has deemed relevant to the matters he has placed in its hands. I find my proverbial feathers ruffled when I hear leaders prescribe overarching fixes for the church universal; leaders who wax eloquent about how exactly we all should rise from our slumber.
Here’s the list I typically hear: stay fashionably detached, rally around flashy justice issues, wear vintage t-shirts highlighting those issues, hang out in local coffee shops, lament the church every chance you get and always vote in a particular direction.
Now I don’t have a problem with any of these issues. I support global micro-enterprise, advocate for those in need and drink plenty of local coffee. I even sport my own t-shirt or two on occasion and believe justice is a mandate from God, not an option.
What I am adamantly against is the prevailing ethos that says a thoughtful and relevant leader must be about these pursuits, especially since Jesus does not strike me as overly trendy. And while he prescribed universal fixes for our world (justice, love, mercy), the manner in which he carried these out varied depending on his context.
Back to Webster. To be relevant is to have significance to the matter at hand. Frankly, not every matter is as sexy to the world as the list above. When we pastor and lead the elderly, relevance may look different. The “matters at hand” are aging with grace and leaving a legacy. Relevance when my grandmother passed was sitting at her bedside listening to Benny Goodman. When the matter at hand is holding a dying infant or comforting a family who lost a child, no one really cares how you voted or if your coffee is Fair Trade Certified; they want to know that you will listen.
Relevance is a shifting notion that ebbs and flows with our lives and the people we walk alongside. No longer does it make sense to offer sweeping prescriptions for what makes a church relevant. Rather than chase the trends of national leaders perhaps we should simply engage with the matters at hand—the lives God places before us each day. And if we relish these lives, obsessing over their well-being rather than a trend, we may just find ourselves utterly and indescribably relevant indeed.
Tracey Bianchi is a freelance writer, Women’s Pastor and speaker. Her book “Green Mama: The Guilt-Free Guide to Helping You and Your Kids Save the Planet” (Zondervan) is available on Amazon.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Unplugged
By Anita Lustrea
It’s amazing how a little shift in routine can change your routine for good. My husband and I were invited to go sailing on Lake Michigan after work one day. Instead of driving in to Chicago that morning, I took the train—my first professional commute.
I began to get excited about all of the things I could do on the train, all of the things commuting friends tell me they do with their extra time. I brought stationery to hand-write some notes to friends (yes, hand-write, not email); I brought books to read and my iPod. Honestly, it looked like I was prepping for a cross country flight, not a 40 minute train ride.
My husband Mike dropped me at the train station a little early. Always efficient with my time, I got to work right away.
First, a quick call to my producer at Midday Connection to tell her I was taking the train and would be a little later than usual. Then I’d check email and respond to anything urgent. Then I’d search my contacts to make sure I had the mailing addresses I would need for the notes I was going to write. I dug in my bag.
Cell phone, where’s my cell phone…..I never forget my cell phone…..I’ve never lost my cell phone! The thoughts were flying through my mind. Oh, I’ll just call Mike and ask him to check around the house. I think I left it on the arm of the chair…Oh, I can’t call Mike, I don’t have my phone.
The reality of being disconnected created a momentary panic, leaving me feeling vulnerable.
I looked around trying to decide if I was bold enough to ask someone in the train station if I could use their phone to call my husband and tell him to bring my phone to our sailing trip. The woman on the bench next to me was furiously working on email on her smart phone. I become fidgety and my eyes became glued to her phone. Then it hit me. You are an addict! You are addicted to this little piece of technology. So, what are you going to do about it?
I took a deep breath and started to feel a great release. Sure I couldn’t call or email anyone, but no one could reach me either. I could read a book in peace and write my notes without the little chime that sounds every time an email or text comes in distracting me. I began to feel free!
When my husband and I met up later in the day, I didn’t even ask for my phone. My unintentional cell phone fast was only for one day, but in the midst of the panic and the freedom I decided to institute a one day a week fast from my cell phone. With less than a month of summer left, I decided to start enjoying more of it!
Anita Lustrea is co-host of the award-winning Midday Connection radio broadcast and author of the upcoming book “What Women Tell Me: Finding freedom from the secrets we keep”. You can learn more about Anita, Midday Connection and her book at www.anitalustrea.com
It’s amazing how a little shift in routine can change your routine for good. My husband and I were invited to go sailing on Lake Michigan after work one day. Instead of driving in to Chicago that morning, I took the train—my first professional commute.
I began to get excited about all of the things I could do on the train, all of the things commuting friends tell me they do with their extra time. I brought stationery to hand-write some notes to friends (yes, hand-write, not email); I brought books to read and my iPod. Honestly, it looked like I was prepping for a cross country flight, not a 40 minute train ride.
My husband Mike dropped me at the train station a little early. Always efficient with my time, I got to work right away.
First, a quick call to my producer at Midday Connection to tell her I was taking the train and would be a little later than usual. Then I’d check email and respond to anything urgent. Then I’d search my contacts to make sure I had the mailing addresses I would need for the notes I was going to write. I dug in my bag.
Cell phone, where’s my cell phone…..I never forget my cell phone…..I’ve never lost my cell phone! The thoughts were flying through my mind. Oh, I’ll just call Mike and ask him to check around the house. I think I left it on the arm of the chair…Oh, I can’t call Mike, I don’t have my phone.
The reality of being disconnected created a momentary panic, leaving me feeling vulnerable.
I looked around trying to decide if I was bold enough to ask someone in the train station if I could use their phone to call my husband and tell him to bring my phone to our sailing trip. The woman on the bench next to me was furiously working on email on her smart phone. I become fidgety and my eyes became glued to her phone. Then it hit me. You are an addict! You are addicted to this little piece of technology. So, what are you going to do about it?
I took a deep breath and started to feel a great release. Sure I couldn’t call or email anyone, but no one could reach me either. I could read a book in peace and write my notes without the little chime that sounds every time an email or text comes in distracting me. I began to feel free!
When my husband and I met up later in the day, I didn’t even ask for my phone. My unintentional cell phone fast was only for one day, but in the midst of the panic and the freedom I decided to institute a one day a week fast from my cell phone. With less than a month of summer left, I decided to start enjoying more of it!
Anita Lustrea is co-host of the award-winning Midday Connection radio broadcast and author of the upcoming book “What Women Tell Me: Finding freedom from the secrets we keep”. You can learn more about Anita, Midday Connection and her book at www.anitalustrea.com
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Relish This Day
By Caryn Rivadeneira
Last week a friend told me how happy he was to hear that “kids today” were being taught the classics—that is, the Sunday School classics. He reported that while the kids frequently sang contemporary worship songs, the “classics” like “Trust and Obey,” and “This Is the Day” live on.
The rest of the day, I hummed or sang these songs. I was so happy to have them back in my head. I drove my kids nuts with my attempts to get them to “echo” my lines in “This Is the Day.” They wouldn’t, but I kept singing it anyway. It was a great day—and the perfect song for it.
But then the next day happened. I awoke with a killer headache and three whiney kids complaining about the “nothing” we had to eat. When “This Is The Day” tried to revive itself in my brain, I grumbled at it: Oh, shut up.
As the day went on—and included writers block, a meeting I didn’t have the energy to attend, and a snippy fight with my husband—the song kept sneaking up on me. Each time, I nipped it in the bud with nasty thoughts: I’ve got nothing to be glad in right now. Just shush.
But the song proved persistent, popping up again and again throughout the day. Finally, in the early evening as I sat out on the front porch watching my kids wheel their bikes up and down the driveway, I let it play out in my head.
This is the day (This is the day)
That the Lord has made (That the Lord has made)
We will rejoice (We will rejoice)
And be glad in it (And be glad in it)
These words come straight from the Psalms (118:24, to be exact). While the Psalms contain plenty of praise, much of them were written with a backdrop of horrifying hardship.
As I sat on my porch I wondered why on these icky days (that paled in comparison to the stuff of the Old Testament) it was so hard to rejoice and be glad. Of course, I should rejoice and be glad in any kind of day, I thought. For one—pure and simple—because God made it. And for two, because God uses bad days. And bad weeks. And bad months. And years. He uses them to teach us, to fold us into his arms, and to learn of his goodness. So that we can come out of bad situations assured of God’s faithfulness and singing his praises. Like the Psalmist.
While this is important for me to remember in all areas of my life—as a writer, a mom, a wife, a friend—it rings particularly true when I think of my life as a leader. Because let’s face it, we leaders have plenty of junky days—when hard decisions have to be made. When we face criticism. When the right thing looks wrong to others. When we feel alone or burned out. When we wish we could delete the very day we were in—or fast-forward to a better one.
And yet, each of these bad days is a day that the Lord has made. What would it look like if we learned to relish these hard times—to rejoice and actually be glad in them? Once I recognized that even a headachy, crabby, annoyance-filled day was made my God—and allowed myself to rejoice in it—my perspective changed. It’s funny how that happens.
Caryn Rivadeneira is the author of Mama’s Got a Fake I.D.: How to Reveal The Real You Behind All That Mom (WaterBrook Press, 2009). She lives in the western suburbs of Chicago with her husband and three kids. You can find her book here: http://www.amazon.com/Mamas-Got-Fake-I-D-Reveal/dp/1400074932/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266868584&sr=8-1
Last week a friend told me how happy he was to hear that “kids today” were being taught the classics—that is, the Sunday School classics. He reported that while the kids frequently sang contemporary worship songs, the “classics” like “Trust and Obey,” and “This Is the Day” live on.
The rest of the day, I hummed or sang these songs. I was so happy to have them back in my head. I drove my kids nuts with my attempts to get them to “echo” my lines in “This Is the Day.” They wouldn’t, but I kept singing it anyway. It was a great day—and the perfect song for it.
But then the next day happened. I awoke with a killer headache and three whiney kids complaining about the “nothing” we had to eat. When “This Is The Day” tried to revive itself in my brain, I grumbled at it: Oh, shut up.
As the day went on—and included writers block, a meeting I didn’t have the energy to attend, and a snippy fight with my husband—the song kept sneaking up on me. Each time, I nipped it in the bud with nasty thoughts: I’ve got nothing to be glad in right now. Just shush.
But the song proved persistent, popping up again and again throughout the day. Finally, in the early evening as I sat out on the front porch watching my kids wheel their bikes up and down the driveway, I let it play out in my head.
This is the day (This is the day)
That the Lord has made (That the Lord has made)
We will rejoice (We will rejoice)
And be glad in it (And be glad in it)
These words come straight from the Psalms (118:24, to be exact). While the Psalms contain plenty of praise, much of them were written with a backdrop of horrifying hardship.
As I sat on my porch I wondered why on these icky days (that paled in comparison to the stuff of the Old Testament) it was so hard to rejoice and be glad. Of course, I should rejoice and be glad in any kind of day, I thought. For one—pure and simple—because God made it. And for two, because God uses bad days. And bad weeks. And bad months. And years. He uses them to teach us, to fold us into his arms, and to learn of his goodness. So that we can come out of bad situations assured of God’s faithfulness and singing his praises. Like the Psalmist.
While this is important for me to remember in all areas of my life—as a writer, a mom, a wife, a friend—it rings particularly true when I think of my life as a leader. Because let’s face it, we leaders have plenty of junky days—when hard decisions have to be made. When we face criticism. When the right thing looks wrong to others. When we feel alone or burned out. When we wish we could delete the very day we were in—or fast-forward to a better one.
And yet, each of these bad days is a day that the Lord has made. What would it look like if we learned to relish these hard times—to rejoice and actually be glad in them? Once I recognized that even a headachy, crabby, annoyance-filled day was made my God—and allowed myself to rejoice in it—my perspective changed. It’s funny how that happens.
Caryn Rivadeneira is the author of Mama’s Got a Fake I.D.: How to Reveal The Real You Behind All That Mom (WaterBrook Press, 2009). She lives in the western suburbs of Chicago with her husband and three kids. You can find her book here: http://www.amazon.com/Mamas-Got-Fake-I-D-Reveal/dp/1400074932/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266868584&sr=8-1
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