A friend introduced me to an online devotional. In our prayer time together each morning, we would often start by reading the message for that day. It was clear that the devotionals were written by and for people who had come from hard places. I noticed how much encouragement there was and how often the devotional reminded the readers that they were worthy and loved. It spoke against the shame and the lie that they would never be good enough. It was interesting because, at this very same time, God had been working on me to remind me that I wasn’t “good enough”—without him. That I wasn’t worthy—but Christ died for me anyway. And it was only through God’s grace that I would be saved. The contrast became increasingly obvious to me, and I had to stop and think about what God was teaching me. After wrestling with it, I have come to call it The Pit and The Pedestal. So many of the women I walk with have never been loved or encouraged the way they should have been. They have experienced and done things that bring shame and, in their thinking, an impenetrable wall of separation between them and God. They live in The Pit and feel as though God would never want anything to do with “someone like them.” In my life, I have always felt loved and encouraged, and I have been a “good girl.” So, I’m afraid that, in some ways, I had come to believe that I was somehow “good enough.” Surely, someone as good as me would get into heaven! Without realizing it, I had put myself up on a pedestal. And from my lofty heights, it was easy to look down on others. What God showed me in this season was that we are all separated from God. From the depths of The Pit or the lofty heights of The Pedestal, there is a great divide called sin. While some may struggle with sins of commission—things they do that are wrong in the eyes of God, I struggled just as much with sins of omission—things I failed to do, things that God clearly asks of us. They may go to jail for their sins. I may get a promotion or accolades from my peers. Both make us fall short of the glory of God. The scary thing is that we live in a society that actually encourages and promotes a lifestyle that keeps us from fully surrendering to God—chasing after achievements and clinging to comforts. Sometimes I found myself a little jealous of their need for God, their desire for God, their passion for God. I watched as God gently lifted these women from The Pit. He spoke words of love and encouragement to them. He made them feel worthy of true love. I watched women realize that they deserved to be treated well—to be loved and cherished. That they could be, and were, loved by God himself! I watched shame fall from them like old rags as they put on their new robe of Christ’s righteousness. God’s love gave them new life! They were children of God—daughters of the King. They had to give up their old identity to receive this new one. On the other hand, I had to be taken out at the knees a little bit. God had been stripping the things in which I wrongly placed my identity. It was not my intelligence, career, title, accomplishments, or even acts of service that made me worthy—it was Christ alone. I had to give up one thing after the other, surrendering until I came to the point of realizing that I could never do this on my own. I had to be brought down. I had to be humbled. And I received new life! I was a was a sinner in need of a savior. I had to realize that before I could ever receive my new identity. Scripture suddenly came to life. Verses I memorized and had always known—but not really known—jumped out at me. The concept of The Pit and The Pedestal was nothing new. I just finally got it. The Bible speaks over and over about this very thing. He will bring down the mighty and exalt the humble. He opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. Our pride will bring us low, but the lowly will obtain honor. And it leveled the playing field. They were raised up and I was brought low, and we walked side-by-side, together, in Christ. “I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.” Isaiah 61:10 NIV “For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” Matthew 23:12 NIV “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” James 4:6 NIV “Pride brings a person low, but the lowly in spirit gain honor.” Proverbs 29:23 NIV

When I was in high school, I was a “good” girl. I didn’t drink, didn’t smoke. I made good grades and obeyed my parents. I had a lot of friends, but I wasn’t always invited to things. I specifically remember the time when I had asked my best friend to spend the night. She told me her mom had said no. And that was all fine and dandy . . . until I found out that she had lied to me. She didn’t want to sleep over because she had gone to a party. And I was not invited. Even at the time, I knew I wouldn’t have gone to that party. But it still hurt to be excluded and lied to. Funny, isn’t it? That we bemoan the fact that we weren’t asked to do something we know very well we would never do anyway? Things haven’t changed much. There are gatherings and events that I am conspicuously not invited to. And they are often things I wouldn't choose to go to anyway . . . but it still hurts. My mind starts to wonder, why am I not invited? Am I too preachy? Too religious? Too “good”? Am I not nice? Not fun? Not “cool”? I realize that sometimes people know I wouldn’t like the drinking, or some of the joking or conversations . . . I know that sometimes they know we may not be able to afford it—or choose to spend our money that way . . . I do want to be careful to not dismiss the first questions too quickly. I can push the God thing hard. Maybe too hard. Or not . . .? And I still struggle with being judgmental, for sure. Funny thing is, my judgement has swung from those who keep doing things they shouldn’t do . . . to those who aren’t doing the things they should. Bottom line is that if I am not being kind or loving, I am not representing Christ well. It’s such a balance—being “nice” and “fun” and standing for truth and God’s will. “Nice” and “fun” can have very different meanings to different people. I am reminded, we are to be in the world, but not of the world. I resolve to be as kind and loving as I can be when I am invited. Lord, please convict me if I need to change my ways. But if it’s something they wouldn’t invite you to, I guess it’s okay if I am not invited. “Blessed are you when people hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man.” Luke 6:22 NIV “I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world.” John 17:14 NIV “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Romans 12:2a NIV

Once again, I would learn that it isn’t how many come, but who comes—and there are no mistakes in who attends. My time was not any better spent when many chose to attend than when only a few would come out. Indeed, sometimes the most powerful times were when there are only a few of us. Such was the day when only two women came out when they opened the sliders of C-block. Mary had already been to the study a number of times, so I wasn’t surprised to see her. I was surprised, however, at what happened within minutes of getting started. Mary began to talk . . . and talk, and talk. It was like someone shook a bottle of soda pop and popped the top! Years of grief, frustration, and hopelessness that had been bottled up erupted like a volcano. Amidst tears and sobs, I learned the sad story of a little girl who had never known a family, grew up in institutions, was diagnosed with every disorder and labeled with every acronym known to the psychiatric field, was on more medications than a person battling cancer, and as an adult had spent the vast majority of her life in residential treatment or incarceration. I had been getting small doses of these women’s realities over the prior weeks—this was a crash course and a wide-open window into a world I had never seen or known. Before I could even move to console Mary, the other gal began to talk . . . and talk, and talk. Emboldened by Mary’s vulnerability, she too began to share deeply. She had moved off the reservation in hopes of finding a better life. Those hopes seemed dashed as she found herself back in jail, again. “You don’t think I want what you white ladies have? A house of my own, a man who comes home every night, a family that sits around the table and eats together? I moved to Sioux Falls, hoping to get away from the influence of people that aren’t good for me. I got a job, got a place. My family . . . they started calling me an apple.” In response to my confused look, she clarified, “Red on the outside, white on the inside.” The pull had been too much, and she sunk back into the mire she had tried so hard to escape. Like a zebra in quicksand, it seemed that the harder she tried, the deeper she sank. My mind was reeling, and my heart hurt. So much raw exposure, emotion, and hardship. I didn’t have the words to say; I didn’t know how to fix them or make it all better. To be honest, I don’t know what I said in return to their raw vulnerability. But I know it changed me. I got a crash course in depravity, fallenness, and despair. I remember feeling gratitude for things I had always taken for granted: a family, a home, and an amazing husband. I remember thinking, too late to share with them, that what she wanted wasn’t “white”—it was right. It was godly. And I remember being so sad that her family had robbed her of that. It was one of the first times I experienced (or at least recognized) how people tend to want to drag people down to their level. Misery does indeed love company. I hope I offered some encouraging words. I hope I offered some hope. I hope I prayed with them. I hope they felt heard—and loved. I don’t honestly remember. But I remember that Mary was in for nearly a year—probably one of the longest runs of any of the gals I have seen in the jail, as they are usually released, bailed out, or moved on to prison. She didn’t have anyone on the outside that cared about her. She never got any money put on her commissary account. She never got any visits or mail. But . . . she did get Jesus, and she did get hope! I couldn’t believe the transformation. This woman, who had been on a dozen medications when she came in—for everything from depression and anxiety to schizophrenia and bipolar disorder—no longer needed any medications. And she was more balanced and joyful than she had ever been. Even the guards marveled at what she had become. She was bringing some of them to Christ! I am not saying that coming to Christ will fix every medical or psychiatric problem. But I know he can work miracles! I saw him work a miracle in Soda Pop Mary. “Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.” Hebrews 13:3 NIV “But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,” declares the LORD, “because you are called an outcast, Zion for whom no one cares.” Jeremiah 30:17 NIV “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3 NIV

The mirror in my bathroom had always portrayed a very confident, capable, accomplished, kind, Christian individual. (There is probably a reason they call it the vanity!) Yet at the jail I came to see that, in so many ways, I was not the kind, loving Christian I meant to be. Without realizing it, the women at the jail provided a mirror in which I finally came to see myself a bit more clearly. For so long, I spent my time with people who were like me, and they also reflected this confident, capable, kind Christian. I wanted to believe it, and so I did. I think it was a bit like the emperor who wore no clothes. Everyone around him told him they were such fine clothes, so he had no idea he was naked! In this fable, it was a child who said, “But he hasn’t got anything on.” These women at the jail didn’t exactly tell me I was “naked,” but as Colossians 3:12 became more real to me, I realized I had better make a change of wardrobe if I was to be clothed with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience! It is not that these women necessarily confronted me directly or pointed out my flaws point blank. But rather, indirectly, they shared their experience with the church—with the Christians they had met—and I began to see myself through their eyes. It broke my heart to hear how we made them feel. How they felt unwelcome in so many churches, how they felt judged and unworthy. How they read of love and generosity and hospitality in the Bible yet had experienced none of this from those who called themselves Christians. It seems they didn’t care so much if we had served Swedish meatballs at the Fall Festival; their fridge was empty once again. It didn’t seem to matter if we had the most amazing talent show to raise funds for our mission trip to repair the orphanage in Jamaica; their pipes had frozen in their trailer on west 12th Street. They wouldn’t know anything of our warm welcome of the young couple that was doing mission work for Wycliffe in Papua New Guinea; we had made it pretty clear they wouldn’t be welcome in our little church with their tattoos and revealing clothes. I didn’t want it to be true . . . especially of me. I think I tried to wipe at the mirror, scrub off the steam from the shower. Surely this reflection of me wasn’t accurate?! But if I was honest, it was. I had been quick to judge, slow to love. I had thought I was somehow better than them. I had drawn lines, boundaries, inclusion/exclusion criteria. Who would be welcome, who would not. Not overtly, of course, but in my heart. In the book of James, we read, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like” (James 1:22–24 NIV). I have read this to mean that, if we look in the mirror and see that we have something stuck in our teeth, we don’t merely go on without doing something about it. We pick at it until we get it out! No one would just shrug their shoulders and move on, heading out the door with a chunk of food stuck in their teeth! And yet, how often do we do that with God’s Word? We do our Bible studies, learn all these things. But are we doing what it says? When it says love your neighbor . . . are we doing it? When it says to welcome strangers . . . are we doing it? When it says feed the hungry and clothe the poor . . . are we doing it? (Not, “Are we paying our taxes for social welfare programs?” The question is, are we doing it?!) I don’t know if we just skipped over some of the hard (convicting) passages—or if I was arrogant enough to think they didn’t include me. But it was like the scales had fallen from my eyes and there they were, staring me in the face. You see, I knew the verses about not drinking too much, about working hard, about fidelity, about gathering together, and about studying the Word. I was passing these with flying colors, which made it that much easier to point fingers at “them.” But then, there these passages were. It was as if they leaped off the page. The one from Ezekiel: “Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy” (Ezekiel 16:49 NIV). Ouch. That one hit pretty close to home. The one from Matthew: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 7:21 NIV). Yikes. It seems there is much more to it than simply claiming to be Christian. These, and so many others. Convicting, for sure. So, I am grateful for the mirror I found in those women at the jail. The emperor was no less naked before someone told him, and I was no less guilty before I looked into a more honest mirror. Like James infers, sometimes you need a mirror to see what you need to fix. I’ve got some work to do! “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” Colossians 3:12 NIV “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.” James 1:22-24 NIV “Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.” Ezekiel 16:49 NIV “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 7:21 NIV

It was a small group at the women’s jail, only four of them. While I used to count my success by how many attended, I have come to cherish the more intimate small groups. That's often when we can dig a little deeper. Little did I know that today, this group would be willing to go real deep. To share with such honesty and raw vulnerability that I was left, once again, acutely aware of how brightly the light shines in the darkness. It started with their simple question, “What verses tell us about how we can find hope?” By the end of the hour, I knew why they so desperately needed an answer to that question.   By God’s providence, we had "stumbled" upon a verse about hope in Romans with the previous group, just the hour before. So, I knew where we would at least start. However, the passage shares a difficult message. Difficult enough in privileged and blessed Christian homes . . . more challenging by far in the light of what these women had faced. Romans 5:3-4 shares that “ . . . we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”  I went on to say how God could use even these hard times in their lives to shape them into something useful for his kingdom; that through these trials he was building their perseverance and character and that, in time, he could use the suffering to produce hope. And then they started to share their sufferings . . . One had been kidnapped, her captor telling her that she would either leave with him or in a body bag. The next had recently been raped, which she went on to describe in more detail than I wanted to know. Perhaps even more surprising was her trauma from it, because later she shared that there was a time in her life she had prostituted herself to make ends meet because she felt there was no other way. The third shared that she had turned to cutting, which she had hid from her family for three years—until it covered so much of her body she could no longer hide it. All of these women shared that at times they had felt so hopeless they had considered or attempted suicide. And I was trying to share with them that they should rejoice in their sufferings!   Wrestling With God   Even as I wondered how to help them make sense of that verse, the one who had been raped and prostituted shared yet another difficult issue to address. She said that she believed in God and everything, but she just didn’t believe in all the rules. She shared that since she was twelve, she had been in custody—incarcerated or in residential or treatment facilities . . . she felt as though she had never been free. Now she was at a place in her life where she  wanted to be in control for once! She didn’t want anybody telling her what she could do or couldn’t do or how she should act—including God. She wanted to have fun !    Recalling her account of her sufferings, I found myself gently asking her, “How has that worked out for you so far?” I went on to share what I had learned—if from the opposite end of the spectrum. I have learned that you don’t know what you don’t know. As I lived a very pious, religious life and enjoyed a nice home and a loving family, I thought I had it all! I thought what I had was "fun." And then God broke me to the point of surrender. I gave up control and let him in the driver’s seat of my life. At times I still try to grab the wheel! But I know now that life is far more exciting and rewarding with God in control. While I had been satisfied with "bread," God then let me taste "cake." I shared with that gal that her idea of "fun" was merely bread . . . God wanted to give her cake! I think so many have settled for "bread"—the things of the world that bring us temporary satisfaction, the best we know in our worldly striving. But once we have experienced what God truly has to offer—peace, joy, hope…in us and in others—that’s when we don’t want to settle for what we  thought was good, but rather for what God has called good. And as we give up our control, as we take that step of obedience, submit to his authority, we get to experience God in ways we never imagined possible. And that in itself can be addictive! We seek more and more of him, and we can’t help but tell others what we have seen and heard.   The Gentle Leading of the Holy Spirit   Sometimes I wonder why in the world God leads me where he does during these times of study, why that  scripture would come to mind, and this was one of those times. At first it seemed there was no way we could get from the suffering these women had experienced to finding hope through it! But God is good to provide all we need and as the women peppered me with questions I had verse after verse come to mind. We jumped throughout scripture, God’s word itself providing answers I never would have had on my own.   At one point, the same woman shared that she wanted desperately to be moved back into the dorms. She said she just couldn’t take being in "max"—where each individual got locked up in their own rooms at night. Downstairs in the dorms there was always noise, light, activity—at all hours of the day or night. There were always things to keep her mind busy, to keep her from dwelling on her sufferings. Why would God make her sit in a quiet, dark cell—alone with her thoughts? Immediately, the story of Elijah and his time in the cave came to mind. We went on to read the story in 1 Kings chapter 19. Elijah, a mighty prophet and a man of God, was running from those who wanted to kill him when he found himself hiding in a cave, all alone, mired in self-pity, confused and angry with God. God wanted to speak to Elijah and he wasn’t in the roaring wind or the mighty earthquake or the fire . . . he was just a still small voice. I said to her, “Could God possibly be telling you to stop running from those thoughts? That he wants to sit with you and tackle those issues . . . together? To deal with them and put them behind you?”    As we were wrapping up, the one with all the questions apologized for making us jump all over, but then I was able to point out that that is exactly how the Bible works! Every question we have can be answered in scripture. We need only to seek and we shall find, ask and it shall be given, knock and the door shall be opened unto us. They all nodded in agreement, marveling at the way their questions had been answered—through scripture, from Genesis to Revelation.    Sweet Surrender   The girl who struggled with cutting had been largely silent throughout all of this. She had come several times now and I had learned she had never believed in God, never really even opened a Bible. She had always appeared kind of quiet and reflective. She pointed out that normally she would be the loud, brash, know-it-all in the group (which I found hard to believe!). But then she said that she just loved listening to me talk. She was just soaking it all in! I assured her that I prayed they were not my own words, but those of the Spirit in me. That I was nowhere near wise enough to come up with the answers God’s word provided. She began slowly nodding and said, “I never wanted to be a believer. I never could see the need for it. But now I am starting to see that it is good. I think I am ready. I think I want to go all in! I think I want to let God be in control of my life!” We prayed, amongst many other things, that she might indeed surrender her life to Christ. That all of us would allow him to be in control. That he would not just be our Savior, but our Lord . As they went to leave, the air was lighter, the heaviness was lifted. There was light shining into their darkness. They left not only feeling heard and satisfied . . . but hopeful —even in the midst of such sufferings. Only by the grace of God!   “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” Romans 5:3-4 NIV   “Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind. Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.” 1 Peter 2:1-3 NIV   “But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.”  John 14:26 NIV ". . . for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that time what you should say.” Luke 12:12

The third of three boys, my youngest grandson is always trying to keep up with his big brothers, and he has more try than anybody I know. It started at a very early age, evident even as he began to learn to walk. Before his legs could keep up with his brain, he would trip and stumble and fall . . . repeatedly! But it never kept him down. Back up he would climb, trying again . . . and again . . . and again. The goose egg on his head was testament to his encounter with the corner of the coffee table. The bruise on his cheek came from the tile flooring by the patio door. Yet, despite all the failed attempts, the frustrations, the injuries, he kept on trying.   It was at this very time, as he was learning to walk, that I began my jail ministry. I had had a particularly rough week, feeling as though I was completely inadequate. I didn’t know how to answer their questions, I didn’t know enough Scripture, I still failed to love them unconditionally, I found myself judging . . . again. There was a voice in my head telling me to just give up! I was probably doing more harm than good. They would be better off without my visits to the jail. I was listening to that voice as I watched my tenacious grandson take a particularly tough spill and crack his forehead on the coffee table . . . again. As I watched him determinedly get back up, I heard another voice. It was saying,  “Get back up! Go back in. Just as he keeps getting better, you will get better too. Someday he will be running! So will you. Get up, my daughter.”  I’m not saying it was an audible voice. It was a whisper of the Spirit to my wounded soul. And with it came this dawning realization that I wanted to run!   I thought about what would happen if my grandson just gave up. I had this ridiculous image in my head of a 15-year-old crawling around the living room. Too timid to get up and try to walk. Too afraid of failure. Too afraid of getting hurt. What would he miss?! No tag, no baseball, no football. Can you just imagine him crawling down the aisle on his wedding day?! It seemed so silly, but without a little try—without persistence—that’s where he would end up.   Another dawning realization was that, for these many years in my spiritual walk, I had actually been crawling. I am so grateful for my little grandson’s unintentional witness. I resolved to keep trying. I would get better. I might fail. I might “crack my head on the coffee table.” But I would just get up and try again. I didn’t want to miss out on what God had planned for me. I wanted to run!   “You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.” Hebrews 10:36 NIV    “ Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” Hebrews 12:1-2a NIV   “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”  Romans 5:3-4 NIV   “Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of people in their deceitful scheming. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.” Ephesians 4:14-15 NIV

I don’t have a green thumb . . . I don’t even pretend to have a green thumb! Gardening is not something I enjoy, and it certainly isn’t something I am good at. However, I do love flowers. I love the color they bring to my porch and deck, and the joy they bring to my heart. So, I have settled on potted annuals to brighten up our outdoor space. With a little advice from others and a lot of help from my husband, I manage to keep hearty petunias and marigolds alive in various pots staged here and there on the deck—strategically positioned so I can enjoy them from my favorite chair in the family room, as well.   The scorching heat of a South Dakota summer day has been an unlikely teacher in my foray into horticulture. While it seems like a good idea to give the flowers a little drink every day, in the long run you are setting yourself up for failure. With constant, small doses of water, the roots are never encouraged to grow deep. They stay happily near the surface drinking in the water you give them every day. But what about the weekends you head out of town? Or the days you simply forget? (I’m just saying, it may have happened a time or two!) The surface water quickly evaporates, and the poor plants are set to wilt and scorch in the heat of the day.   If you give a bigger drink of water once or twice a week, the little roots are challenged to stretch down to the moist depths for the water they need. This moisture doesn’t dry out so quickly and deep roots mean the plant can make it through a stretch of drought due to your absence . . . or forgetfulness. Better yet, water fortified with a fertilizer like Miracle Gro® will really help your plants thrive. And a process known as “deadheading,” where you cut off all the dead flower heads, will encourage the plant to focus on flower production rather than using energy for seed production. This kind of nurturing will really give you a profuse array of flowers, with vibrant colors and rich greenery.   As I walk this journey, discipling and being discipled, I am learning there are some great spiritual truths we can learn from some of these basic gardening principles. I fear that as I have walked with some, I may be guilty of overwatering. My intentions are always good. I intend to help them, whether with a financial need or tasks at hand—and there are indeed times when those are good things. However, sometimes God uses those hard times to stretch their faith—helping them to grow deeper roots. If I am always “watering,” I can impede that growth. Worse yet, they may even come to depend on me , rather than God!    And sometimes meeting those material needs isn’t even the kind of help they really need. It may bring relief for a time, but it isn’t helping them to learn how to endure the “droughts” or hard times they may have yet to face. While “water” is essential to life, there is a distinct difference between physical water and spiritual water. What we really need is living  water! The gospel and the teachings of God’s Word are the Miracle Gro® of our faith. This is the nourishment we really need to blossom and thrive. And while we never like the process of “deadheading,” sometimes we need to let God remove those things which are draining our energy rather than producing life. Removing the people and things that aren’t bringing us closer to God will result in our energy being focused on the things of God rather than the things of this world! The truth is, God generously offers both abundant life and eternal life as we yield our lives to the skilled hands of the Master Gardener.    So, I find myself praying for wisdom regarding when and how much to water into the lives of others. God implores that we “help the poor and the needy.” We are certainly called to “go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” Yet, we must also take care not to “overwater.” I pray for discernment between helping and hurting, empowering and enabling.  Oswald Chambers, a man after God’s own heart, put it this way:   “One of the most difficult lessons we ever learn is that we must not interfere in other people’s lives. It takes us a long time to learn this lesson. We stubbornly refuse to realize the danger of playing the amateur providence by interfering with God’s plans for others. We see someone suffering, and we say, “That person will not suffer. I’ll make sure of it.” In order to prevent their suffering, we raise a hand against God’s permissive will. How does God answer? He says, “What is that to you? You must follow me.””     - Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest (Modern Classic version)   We want to be loving, we want to be kind, we want to be nice. But the truth is, we live in a culture that is making it increasingly difficult to understand the difference between “loving” and “nice.” I’m afraid the reality of it is that sometimes love doesn’t look too nice—it looks more like deadheading or outright pruning, which can be painful. Sometimes love is not helping, so that God can finish the work he is doing in that person’s life. Lord, help me, that I would not be an “amateur providence.”   Chambers points to the passage we find in John 21:21-22 where Peter asked of Jesus what his plans were for John, “ When Peter saw him, he asked, “Lord, what about him?” Jesus answered . . . “What is that to you? You must follow me.”” Perhaps we need to spend more time worrying about our own walk with the Lord. And on that intimate, side-by-side, hand-in-hand walk with the Lord, he will tell us when it is time to water, and when we may need to allow life’s circumstances to help them grow deeper roots. We should all have a watering can at the ready, filled to the brim with godly generosity—of our time, our talents, and our treasure. We just need to walk closely enough with the Lord to know when we should use it. And let’s never forget to use living water—not only meeting physical needs, which offers temporary relief, but lavishly pouring out love and truth, which offers eternal life!    “The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away.” Matthew 13:20-21    "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful." John 15:1-2   “On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” John 7:37-38   “Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?” 2 Corinthians 6:14   “Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.” John 15:4

As my friend and I began our women’s ministry at the county jail, I began noticing that many of these women would talk about their "mom" or their "daughter," yet I was realizing they weren’t their real mom or daughter.  At first, I thought it may just be one of those blended family issues, with steps and exes, etc.  But then I began realizing there was no formal relationship at all.  These were simply broken women, finding family in each other.  Often, they were women who had been taken from their moms and placed in foster care, and then had borne children that were taken from them  and placed in foster care.  Younger women and older women who found each other—on the streets or in the jail—and bonded in a special way.  It made me realize how strong the desire is to be nurtured and to nurture.  Even in the chaos of their worlds, where the God-given family structure was nowhere to be found and even their version of family had been annihilated by their circumstances and their choices, these women longed to be mothers and longed to be daughters.  And so, I would see these 40 somethings taking the 20 somethings under their wings, to console, to mentor, to teach.  It was beautiful in a sad way.  Strong testament to the God-given urge to give and receive love in the bonds of family, heart-breaking to see how far removed it was from what God had originally intended.   One day, only two came out for Bible study.  It may have been one of those "mother"/"daughter" relationships.  The 40 something had been coming regularly, and it was clear that she had a lot of clout in the block.  Even as she attended Bible study and was truly making strides in her faith walk, it was pretty clear that only certain gals came out when she came and others would stay back, even if they may have liked to come.  (Justification may come quickly, sanctification is most certainly a process!)  Regardless, this day just the two of them came to Bible study.  It didn’t take long to realize that the 40 something had a bit of an agenda, and it seemed to be an attempt to create a place for the 20 something to share her story and seek the help she needed.  God could use even the "clout" and the "screening" for his good!   The young woman began to just pour her heart out.  In the times that I had met her previously, it was clear that she had little to no education.  She had made it sound like she was in trouble for stealing at Walmart.  She had had questions about whether it was okay to lie in order to protect people she cared about or to try to minimize her sentence.  Yet on that day, as her story poured out, so much became clear.  No wonder she did not have an education, she had already been in the sex industry for years.  She had been  arrested at Walmart, but it was for trying to "recruit" other young girls into the trade.  She was wondering about lying because she was looking at some serious charges and a lengthy sentence for her role in the sex trafficking circles.    And yet, as I listened to her and watched her, I couldn’t help but wonder . . . who was the victim here?  This was the same girl that had naively asked what would happen if a woman had sex with a horse. We had been studying how kinds reproduced after their own kinds in Genesis, and her question certainly caught me off guard.  I had taught a lot of Sunday school classes and not one child had ever asked me that question! She went on to explain that when she was like 5, she and her cousin were watching a porn movie where a woman was having sex with a horse.  (She did offer a brief comment that she realized she shouldn’t have been watching that.  You think?!)  Her older and wiser cousin—age 7—had informed her that the baby would be half human and half horse.  This 20 something still did not know that this was not how it really was!  I had an innocent, five-year-old grandson at the time.  I tried to keep my jaw from hitting the table as she shared this story from her childhood.  What kind of life could a child hope to lead if they were exposed to bestiality at 5!!!  Little did I know at the time, but this is a common way in which traffickers "groom" young children for the sex industry.   I can still remember her just sobbing.  The feds wanted to meet with her.  They expected her to rat on the others in the racket—her "cousins," which I would come to learn were more likely fellow gang members than her aunt and uncle’s children.  In exchange they would give her some leniency in her sentencing.  The sobs racked her body as she cried out, “Who is going to look out for me!  The feds expect me to help them out, but who will help me!  Sure, I might get out or get out earlier, but to what?  I’ll just get sucked right back into the same lifestyle, the same awful things, the same running and hiding.  Who is going to help me!”  My friend and I just looked at each other.  We hadn’t been coming to the jail very long.  We were green, we were naïve, we were shocked to our core as we caught glimpses of a life we knew absolutely nothing of.   A life that we wanted to pretend didn’t really happen, not in the real world.  But the hard truth was that it did.  And this 20 something was just one of so many.    My friend and I had come wanting to make a difference.  We had been convicted that we were to move beyond the walls of the church.  Jesus had left the synagogue in Jerusalem to care for the lepers and the outcasts . . . where was our mission field?  Well, this was it.  The jail would teach us so many things, hard truths, helpful responses, not-so-helpful responses.  The light of Christ certainly shines brightly in such darkness, and that was something that we could bring in with us—past all the security guards, the metal detectors, through the heavy doors that slammed shut behind us.  But what about when these women walked out those heavy, slamming doors?  What would they be returning to?  And what was God asking us to do about it?   As a part of my work at the Christian camp God had pointed me towards, I had recently visited a horse ministry for young girls in Minnesota.  One that was specifically for young women caught up in trafficking.  We shared that bit of hope with her.  Maybe she could find a place like that to help her start a new life.   My friend had been learning all about trauma-informed care because of struggles she had faced with her adopted son, who had experienced trauma at a young age.  She had shared of her desire to start, what she called, The Brain House.  A place where people understood how trauma impacted the brain and, thus, behaviors.  At one of our first coffees, we had agreed, maybe we were to combine our visions.  Horses are a really powerful tool in the battle against trauma.  As we stood in the hub area at the jail, waiting for the next block to come out, she just looked at me and said, “We need to build The Brain House.”   Little did we know that these little steps of obedience would lead us to the founding of a nonprofit we would call Chrysalis . . . and, ultimately, to unveiling truths of what brings genuine transformation.   “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” Ephesians 5:25 NIV   “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord.” Ephesians 5:22 NIV   “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” Ephesians 6:1 NIV   “Just as a nursing mother cares for her children,   so we cared for you.” 1 Thessalonians 2:7b-8a NIV

John 14:21 has become somewhat of a life verse for me. You see, I always thought that keeping his commands meant: following the rules —you know, commands , like the ten commandments. Somehow, I made that into me trying to be good enough. Oh, I knew all the scriptures about how we aren’t saved by works, but rather by grace. And yet, I found myself striving . . .  for perfection. I also found myself comparing myself to others to see how I was doing, which led to being self-righteous and judgmental. I fear I more often brought the Bad  News to people.    Without realizing it, I had ascribed to "checkbox Christianity." I thought that going to church regularly, serving on committees, singing in the choir, teaching Sunday School, and serving at potlucks would surely show my love for him! And while it did, I fear I had been missing the whole point. 1 Corinthians 13 reminds us of the importance of love. Without it, even the most profound words sound like the annoying clang of a cymbal and the deepest knowledge and faith mean nothing. Matthew 23 warns of hypocrisy and scolds the religious leaders of the day. Despite their attention to the details of religious traditions and rituals, they had failed to love . . .  to show compassion and mercy. Had I fallen prey to the same misled convictions?   Now, as I follow my trail of "bread crumbs," I realize that I am  following His commands . . .  that are specifically for me  for today ! When I claim Christ as my Lord, he becomes my Master. Therefore, I need to follow his commands—for I am his servant. And in doing so, he is pleased and promises to show himself to me. And, indeed, he has! I have been blessed by this revelation. He has become more real than I had ever thought possible. And I have become consumed by the desire to share these realizations with others. I believe that is called . . .  sharing the Good  News!   “Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them.”   John 14:21 NIV   “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith— and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9 NIV   “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3 NIV   “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices— mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law— justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.” Matthew 23:23 NIV

When I first started going to the jail, the sights and sounds and smells were unfamiliar and intimidating. The stark halls, the masses of concrete and metal, the slamming doors. It became familiar and less intimidating, but for the longest time there was one thing that was just so frustrating. The wait. You would approach a door, push a button and wait. Get to the next door, maybe only four feet ahead of you, push a button and . . . waaaiiiitttt.    I remember waiting at one door in a tiny little vestibule, for what seemed an interminably long time. In the early days, I was still in my "efficient," "productive" mode—you know what they say, "time is money." So, this waiting was for the birds! Absolutely nothing was going on in the halls in front of or behind me—to the right or to the left. Why in the world couldn’t someone simply push the button that made this door open?! I became more accustomed to it and I think that I also began to just be a little more laid back in general but, still, I would find myself wondering, “What is the hold up here?” I could see no reason for the wait.   In the weeks and months that passed, I came and went from the jail and one thing I observed was that behind the front desk there was a room. This room had darkened windows where shadowy figures moved silently about and the faint glow from so many screens found its way past the heavy tint. Over time, it registered that these screens monitored every part of the jail, all the hallways, all the activity. It was like the "all-seeing eye." The power to open and shut all the doors resided in that room.    The other thing I observed over the weeks and months was that, at times, long lines of inmates—many in shackles and chains—would make their way from the jail to the courtroom. At times, the sound of pounding feet and the sight of guards running down the hallway would be the only indication of some skirmish or uproar somewhere in the bowels of the jail. At times, a gurney and medical staff—attending to one of the inmates suffering from sickness . . . injury . . . overdose . . . suicide attempt—would rush past the door and round the corner.    Over the weeks and months, glimpses of these incidences birthed an awareness and an understanding of just why there were periods of . . . waaaiiiitttt. And from this awareness and understanding came an epiphany, of sorts. Isn’t that just like our walk with God? We are ready—or at least we think we are. We see no reason to wait. Why won’t the doors of opportunity open already?! But then, God is the ultimate "all-seeing eye." He knows what obstacles lie ahead, what danger lurks around the corner, what needs to be prepared before we move ahead. He sees the past, the present, and the future . . . and his timing is perfect.    I now wait for the doors in the jail with a lot more patience. I pray that I will grow in my patience as I wait upon the Lord, as well. I now trust that the guards know what they are doing and when it is safe for me to advance to the next door. How much more should I put my trust in the God of the universe?! After all, scripture promises that those who wait upon the Lord will soar on wings like eagles.  I long to soar! So . . . I will wait. Imperfectly and impatiently at times, but I will wait.   “The eyes of the Lord are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good.” Proverbs 15:3 NIV   “Tell us, you idols, what is going to happen. Tell us what the former things were, so that we may consider them and know their final outcome. Or declare to us the things to come, tell us what the future holds, so we may know that you are g ods. Do something, whether good or bad, so that we will be dismayed and filled with fear. But you are less than nothing and your works are utterly worthless; whoever chooses you is detestable.” Isaiah 41:22-24 NIV   “…Grace and peace to you from him who is, and who was, and who is to come,…” Revelation 1:4 NIV

It was my very first time in the jail. I was just shadowing, in fact. I would be doing a Bible study on Wednesday afternoons, but I had gone with the ladies who did the church service on Sundays. I would learn the ropes—figure out where I needed to go and how to navigate the locked doors and corridors. I would be a fly on the wall, just there to watch. They had given me one rule: no hugs.   We meandered through the maze, and I was thinking this had been a really good idea—I would have been totally lost coming alone! I quietly tagged along as we made our way to our destination. As the women gathered at the sliding door and spilled out once it opened, there was quite a bit of talking and even laughing, but one woman caught my eye. She looked so sad! She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. The story that poured out of her to another woman was disjointed and almost incoherent. I couldn’t help but overhear. Something about her car being towed, somebody stealing a bunch of her stuff, the reality of her losing the apartment if she didn’t come up with rent, her son being sent to the juvenile detention center. Many of the details were lost in sobs and sniffles, but the main gist was pretty clear: when she got out, she would have nothing.   No hugs.  That one rule, which had seemed easy enough to follow, kept running through my head.  No hugs.  Even though I didn’t know this woman at all—and I had absolutely no idea what she was in jail for—the raw pain I saw in her face was  begging  me to console her, to bring comfort.  No hugs.   The group wandered down the hall and made their way into the room where we would hold the service. As the other volunteers got the TV set up and the praise and worship music started, I sat quietly in the background, watching. A fly on the wall. I was supposed to be watching how they got everything set up—but I couldn’t take my eyes off that woman. The others began to sing and praise. A devotional was shared, and the videotaped sermon was started. I just kept looking over at that woman. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. They had told me no hugs. They never said anything about offering a tissue. So I grabbed a few from the bag we had brought in with us and made my way over to the woman. She looked up with tear-filled eyes and tear-streaked cheeks and wordlessly accepted the tissues. I gave what I hoped was an encouraging smile and made my way back to my spot. A fly on the wall.   The service ended, and we retraced our steps, returning the women to their block and making our way out of the maze of corridors. It was my first time in the jail. I left feeling completely inadequate.   Months later, someone from the church shared a letter with me. The return address was for a federal prison in Texas. It was from that woman in the jail. She proceeded to thank the church for sending people into the jail, sharing how much it meant to her. You see, that day she had given up all hope. Raised by a father who was a pastor, she went to that church service to make amends with the God of her youth. A God that had seemed absent as she had struggled with so much, for so long. And having made amends, she had planned to return to her cell and end her life.   At least, that was what she had planned . . . until a woman handed her a tissue! That one simple act had restored her faith that there was still hope! She went on to share how God had been working in her life since that day. Even though she would spend a few years in federal prison, she was attending church and every Bible study group they offered. She was taking self-help classes and even working on her GED. She was filled with hope and plans for her future! She asked if they would share her letter with that woman who shared the tissue . . .   I had my own tears streaming down my cheeks as I read her letter. They were partly for this woman, tears of joy. But they were partly in awe of the God we serve. He knew me, his daughter. He knew my feelings of inadequacy. He knew well that I would go in worrying about if I would know the right thing to do, the right words to say, the right scriptures to share. He made sure that I knew that as I went into the jail, I didn’t necessarily need to share all kinds of wisdom or advice or assistance in order to help these women. I just needed love—a crazy, radical, undeserved, and unconditional love.  His  love, overflowing from the place where he dwelled, within my heart. And maybe a tissue!   “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?     Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death, and my enemy will say, I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall.” Psalm 13:1-4 NIV   “…I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. …My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.” 1 Corinthians 2:1b, 4-5 NIV   “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.” Psalm 13:5-6 NIV

In this fruitful season of waiting, I continued to wonder what God had in store at that Christian camp. I decided to go speak to someone there—you know, to give them a heads up on God’s plans! With no director on staff yet, I ended up speaking with the administrative assistant who greeted me with a bright smile and a welcoming presence.   We sat at some tables next to a big bank of windows overlooking the beautiful rolling hills and trees. As we settled in with some introductions and small talk, she told me about how you can often see eagles there (God wink!). And then, I began to pour my heart out. She listened intently as I shared all that God had been up to—well, I couldn’t share everything that God had done, but even the highlights provided enough evidence that something far beyond "coincidence" was going on here. I shared that I had not sought out this position, but rather that it would seem God had brought me to it! How God had been working and pointing me to the camp. How it seemed that I was to perhaps help with the horse ministry, if not more. That even though I had not been considered for the director position, it would seem clear that I was to be involved with their ministry in some way . . .     When I wrapped up, she leaned back and said, “Well, I have so many things going on in my head right now. First of all, as I listen to you speak, it occurs to me that you should be a speaker of some sort! Your story is so inspiring! I hear so often that people don’t hear from God, they don’t see him in their life, they find themselves wondering where he is. It is so refreshing and inspiring to hear from someone who sees God so clearly in their everyday!”    She went on to say, “And it’s funny that you should come today . . .” (This always smelled like breadcrumbs!) “We just offered the position to an individual yesterday, so I can share his name with you.” He had been pastoring a small church in Iowa and his denomination was currently considering his resignation. She went on to say that perhaps I could meet with him to see what his thoughts were on the matter.    I set about to do some research and tracked this man down on the internet. I found the website for the church he served and a link took me to the church newsletters. I opened the most recent one, wondering if perhaps there would be an announcement that he had accepted the position at the camp. Scrolling to the Letter from the Pastor  page, I began to read. What would I learn about this man who had been called to be the director? This man whom I felt sure that I would be working with. . .  The letter shared of a trip that he and his wife had been making across the state, when they got a call that his father was doing poorly. Unsure of whether they should continue on or return home, he writes about the moment he looked up to see an eagle soaring in the sky!  He went on to share the passage from Isaiah about soaring on wings like eagles—the same verse God had put on my heart. Coincidence? I think not.   I did end up arranging a meeting with this man (indeed, I had become quite accustomed to acquainting myself with strangers!) and came to learn that he loved horses, too! That his family had been instrumental in establishing an arena for their local riding club. That he had a heart for the broken and that he believed that horses could be an amazing tool to bring hope and healing for those who need it most. Coincidence? I think not.    While l wouldn’t be the director, I did begin to work with the camp. Initially, I was hired as a consultant to share vision about how the horse ministry could be expanded and serve even more people. I was then brought on as a part-time employee—initially working 10 hours a week, eventually up to 20 hours a week.   I think there are many who wondered what my role really was there . . . perhaps the director and other employees included! Some thought I had come to raise funds, others to develop the horse ministry, yet others had absolutely no idea. I was a strange camp employee. I spent most of my time off site—doing jail ministry, going to various institutions that served people from hard places, attending conferences on trauma, developing collaborations with other ministries. In my defense, the job description the director and I came up with had started with: Follow the leading of the Holy Spirit. So, from my base at the camp—my office in a janitor’s closet! (I guess the Lord was still trying to peel my pride from clenched fists !) —I went wherever the Spirit led. Getting used to the idea of not having people’s approval or acceptance. Getting used to having people look at me like I was crazy. Getting used to seeing God move in the most amazing ways! Even as I wandered on my Spirit-led sojourn, as people wondered when I would begin "working": . . . God showed up with a half a million-dollar pledge  for the horse ministry! I hadn’t asked anybody for it.  But I had been  praying about it!   “Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.” Galatians 1:10 NIV   “Very truly I tell you, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.” John 16:23b-24 NIV   “He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all – how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” Romans 8:32 NIV   “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” John 15:7 NIV