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The doors were finally opened to return to the behavioral health center after the COVID-19 pandemic shuttered things. It was so good to be back—in person!—sharing the Good News with evidence. On this day, I was running late. It was only a half hour session on Mondays, so even running a few minutes behind would cramp my time with the adolescents. My “preparation” was a few fervent prayers, sent up as I ran from the car to the building. There was a shorter lesson that I usually tacked on to something else, but I chose to use it as a stand-alone this time since we were running short of time. I hadn’t presented this one in quite a while and I had had no time to review. So, I was harried and breathless as the kids were coming in. I was feeling very unprepared. For many months, even after the doors were reopened, masks were still required. It was challenging to speak (and breathe!) through the mask. And, even more so, it was difficult to convey the message effectively because I normally use a lot of facial expressions to help make certain points. But, as spread rates were slowing and vaccination rates were increasing, mask mandates had begun to loosen in our community. So, when I began to speak, I looked to the chaplain to see if I might remove my mask for this presentation. He nodded that it would be fine, and so I slipped the elastic from my ears and laid it to the side. To my absolute surprise, not one but two of the girls almost simultaneously said—out loud— “You are beautiful!” I was flattered and a bit flustered! While I didn’t consider myself ugly, I certainly didn’t consider myself a raving beauty either. So, their exclamations were unexpected and, frankly, unprecedented. I may have muttered an almost embarrassed quick thank you, but then I just charged into the introduction and the content of my presentation. Yet, even as my mouth was moving, my mind was pondering . . . what might have moved them to make such a comment?! Today, of all days? I proceeded to move through the evidence for how a global flood—of biblical proportions—would provide a perfect explanation for the onset of an ice age. As I have noticed before, sometimes when I am the least prepared, my presentations are the most passionate and Spirit-led. Rather than the frazzled feeling I had upon entering, I was making eye contact, driving home points, inserting things I had never planned to say. They seemed captivated, all eyes on me, answers even coming from the young man whose eyes I couldn’t see—the one who had shaggy hair, dyed blonde and black, that completely covered his eyes like an unkempt sheep dog. Another young man, front and center, seemed to be particularly engaged. Pondering. Nodding. Agreeing. Contributing. I was blessed to see a genuine a-ha moment. This was registering with him. Somewhere inside, the disconnect between his heart and his brain—his faith and his intellect—was weaving itself together and making absolute sense. Maybe for the first time. I left feeling exhilarated rather than frazzled. I had been privileged to see the Holy Spirit move in that place. Somehow, I had effortlessly flowed from the geological and meteorological evidence for an ice age to the saving grace of Jesus Christ! Helping these kids to see that they were not some cosmic accident, but created—in the image of God—on purpose and for a purpose. In looking back, I couldn’t help but wonder if those girls had seen, not my beauty but, the beauty of the One who lives in me? Could they have somehow seen his light, his grace, his love, emanating from me as I slipped that mask off . . .? One gal from the jail referred to Christians as “shiny faces.” The Bible talks about how Moses’ face shone when he came down from the mountain after being in the presence of the Lord. The Psalms talk about how we will be radiant—no more shame! There is a little children’s song that says “this little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” While, I have to admit, I was flattered by the compliment when I thought it was actually me . . . way more flattered if it might be him! “After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly.” Acts 4:31 NIV “So he reasoned in the synagogue with both Jews and God-fearing Greeks, as well as in the marketplace day by day with those who happened to be there.” Acts 17:17 NIV “Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.” Psalm 34:5 NIV

We had been walking together for a while, probably six years or so. We had been through a lot. Through it all, I had the great joy of watching her fall in love with God. Even if her world may not have been all that different . . . she was different. Although technically she may have been homeless again, she could now see the good in her current situation. She had been staying in a camper in a rural campground. But she had a place to sleep. They had to move every five days and there wasn’t a lot of room for her cat who just had a litter of five kittens. But they were by a stream with a little waterfall. There wasn’t any air conditioning, and the camper could heat up like a tin can. But there were beautiful, mature trees that offered that deep, rich kind of shade. The kind of cool that only God could offer on a hot summer day. While it would be easy to see all the hard in her situation, God had given her eyes to see the blessing. This time spent in the country had given her time to think. Her time in the shade had given her time to be still, with God. What we see as trials can often be the very things that get us to stop a minute and hear him a bit more clearly. I always say, God is good at giving time-outs to his willful children! As we drove together across town one day, I was blessed with the fruits of this most recent time-out. She shared a couple of really insightful comments. A bit out of the blue, she says, “You know, I think God was trying to get my attention for a while before I really started to hear him.” Before thinking much, I tossed out there, “Ya think?! God is always there, saying, ‘Hello . . . it’s me, God . . . over here!’” Waving my hands like I was trying to get someone’s attention. She laughed and said, “I know, right?! But then there’s this whole carnival over here . . .” Gesturing to the opposite side. “I was so distracted by the “carnival” I didn’t even notice him . . .” Wow! She had nailed it. The evil one is so good at putting on, what seems to be, a great carnival. Something bright and shiny to distract us, lure us away. We all have our own “carnivals.” Whether it is drugs and partying . . . or a career and advancement—the carnival seems so fun. It is so alluring . . . so distracting. Silently, subtly, keeping us from seeing God—over there waving at us, trying to get our attention. As we neared our destination, she once again began to thoughtfully share . . . “Sometimes I wonder what God thinks of us down here. You know, billions of people, living on this planet, for such a very long time. So busy dreaming up all these great technologies, creating gadgets to make our lives better, trying to figure out how we can get to Mars . . . Sometimes I just wonder what if people spent that much time trying to get to know God? Trying to figure out what the Bible really says about him and about how we should live our lives…? What would the world be like then?” Again, wow! What if . . .? What if more of us carved out the time to be still and know that he is God? What if we tuned out the calliope music of the carnival to hear that still small voice? To grow in our relationship with him, igniting our desire to fully surrender. To be at his beck and call, an obedient servant of the Master. What would the world be like then? Such deep thoughts. Such profound insights. All because she was homeless, in a camper, in a park, by a stream. Present with the Creator . . . not distracted by a carnival. She might not be the “disadvantaged” one . . . she might be the lucky one. “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NIV “The great dragon was hurled down— that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.” Revelation 12:9 NIV “He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”” Psalm 46:10 NIV

The little canvases were about 3 x 5 inches and each contained original artwork. My grown son had undertaken an art project with my grandsons and each of them had worked diligently on a painting. A little Bob Ross moment, creating masterpieces. My son’s painting was quite good, actually, with sun highlighting the tree trunks, creating dimension; and a shimmer on the placid lake, hinting at depth. Even the nine-year-old’s painting was pretty realistic. The seven-year-old had deviated from the landscape theme and gone with some kind of animal, and it, too, was good—in a seven-year-old kind of way. And then there was the little man’s. My four-year-old grandson’s painting was . . . abstract, shall we say. A few blurry blobs of various colors, smeared, washed-out . . . yet beautiful in its own way.    As we got to this last one, my son had to share the story of how this masterpiece came to be. My little grandson had painted all kinds of color onto the canvas, with complete abandon. Joyously adding this, then that. No apparent pattern or plan. So much so, that in time the colors blended and it got pretty messy and then, finally, basically black. Displeased with this outcome, little man had taken it into the bathroom and simply washed the canvas off under the running water . . . rings of color swirling around the sink and then down the drain. And so, there you had it, his masterpiece—vestiges of the underlying color clinging as residual, creating its own sort of abstract art with a unique appeal and a beauty all its own.   The very next day, I was doing some morning prayer time with a dear friend. A bit out of the blue, somewhere in the middle of her prayer, I heard her saying . . .  “Lord, so often we want to do what is right in your eyes. We want to do it perfectly. It’s like we want to paint a Picasso or a Rembrandt, yet our attempts are so imperfect. And we can be so hard on ourselves. Help us to be more like children. Help us find joy in the process—even if it’s not perfect! It’s like if Kaia’s grandchildren were to paint a picture, having so much fun doing it, even though it wasn’t perfect."     I don’t know exactly how she finished that prayer, but my mind quickly went to the little 3 x 5 canvases. Especially, little man’s. He had so much fun doing it! Yet it was far from perfect. And I’m sure that his uncle did not rebuke him for his imperfection, but rather I bet he marveled at it and oohed and aahed over it. Encouraging him to keep painting, to keep trying. To enjoy the process and discover that, over time, he would just get better. Lord, help us to see that you are the same.  A good Father who will rejoice in our efforts, even though our results may miss the mark. A loving Father who marvels at it and oohs and aahs over it, encouraging us to keep trying. Help us to find joy in the trying!     The funny thing is, I had mentioned absolutely nothing to my friend about my recent visit with my son or the paintings. Yet, how perfect. Her prayer and my son’s story were weaving together into a beautiful tapestry of God’s love for us! Not even just the lesson I was to learn—to find joy in the trying as we stumble along on this journey of faith. But more than that—that he is a living God. That his Spirit dwells within us and we can know things that he knows. We can speak into others’ lives, prompted by the Holy Spirit, in a way we could never do on our own. This friend has a tendency to do that—to pray for things I have not mentioned, to use analogies that hit so close to home . . . I get goosebumps. She lives hundreds of miles away—she has no other link to my world but what I choose to disclose—and yet, there are times where she prays with an insight that leaves me in awe. The Spirit dwells within her. What scripture teaches and what I observe come into unison. God becomes greater, I become less. He is a big God.   I think my favorite part, in all of this, is that when my grandson’s painting became so messy, so dark . . . he simply washed it off. And behind that messy darkness, there was beauty. I am reminded, once again, that that is what Jesus did for us. He took our messy darkness, washed us, and made us beautiful! Like the paint, swirling around the sink and down the drain, God cleanses us from our sin and removes it . . . taking it far away . . . as far as the east is from the west. Even the vestiges that remain can be made beautiful . . . in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him. Trusting in that, I have the confidence to keep painting. Hopefully with a little more joy!   “Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do.” Ecclesiastes 9:7 NIV   “This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit, explaining spiritual realities with Spirit-taught words.” 1 Corinthians 2:13 NIV   “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols.” Ezekiel 36:25 NIV   “…as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.” Psalm 103:12 NIV   “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28 NIV

I met her when I was making video visits to the jail—after they quit letting us go in due to the COVID-19 pandemic. This girl was on fire! Honestly, I think she did more ministry to me in our 25-minute video calls than I was doing for her. Once again, I was blessed to see what God will do in a surrendered heart. She had been “gang-affiliated” and had gone down some very dark roads. The last charge was serious. She could be looking at life. But, somewhere in there, God whispered to her that he still loved her. That he forgave her. That he had more for her. And, this time, she heard him! The freedom she found in her soul overcame any of the bars or locks in the jail, and her joy was simply infectious. Even if she was looking at “life” . . . she had finally found life .   “Adulting”   We stayed close as she was released from jail to a local halfway house. She found a good job with good pay and overtime, and we did ministry together almost every morning. After about four months, she completed her time at the halfway house, inspiring many along the way with her commitment to sobriety, her hard work, and her love for others. She moved into an affordable room at the Hope House where, at the time, she was the only tenant. Her newfound spiritual freedom was now facing physical freedom. The realities of life on the outside were coming home to roost. She was “adulting,” as she would say . . . or at least trying.   It was the first time in her life, in her thirties, that she was trying to actually work (at legitimate work) for a living. As a girl, her dad had taken care of her. As an adult on the outside, money was readily available—a drug deal could solve her money problems in a quick minute. When her “fundraising” landed her in jail or prison, all her needs were met. So, to get up and work hard all day . . . every day . . . well, that was new. And the money she earned just seemed to disappear so quickly! She was learning the hard way that you can’t just get what you want when you want it—even if you have worked hard for it.   “Wrestling”   So, the second month at the Hope House rolled around and rent was due. And she didn’t have it. The lease she had signed was clear: if she didn’t have the money by the third of the month, she would be served eviction papers. The world was closing in, gripping tighter, strangling her newfound freedom . . . stealing her joy.   I know she didn’t want to tell me; it was nearly the third of the month before she finally admitted where she was financially. Broke. As we sat in the car, I witnessed a very real wrestling—old man vs. new man. Paul’s letter to the Romans, in chapter 7, describes this wrestle—in words. I was seeing  this wrestle—in the flesh. She was clearly tormented. “It would be so easy,” she whispered. To just make a quick deal. She could have the money she needed in no time. Romans 7:21 , “Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me.” I watched her wrestle her demons in the seat right next to me.   Getting a Little Crazy   I was raised, thankfully, with tough love. Healthy boundaries were set, consequences were laid out and metered out if I crossed the boundaries. It was helpful in my formative years, shaping me into the (mostly) responsible woman I am today. And so, my natural inclination was to throw down the tough love card. You blew the money. You pay the consequences.    But thankfully, God had been doing quite a lot of work on my heart. Teaching me so much about crazy  love. Unconditional love. Love that wasn’t deserved. (Just like God’s love for us.) This woman wrestling next to me had not been taught about hard work and financial stewardship when she was a child. Her options in this moment were to be evicted—leaving her homeless—or to try to come up with the money herself. Her most likely options were selling drugs—or herself—or borrowing money from someone who could hold it over her, possible trouble down the road. I just felt so strongly that what she needed in this moment was not tough love, but crazy love. Some might call it bailing her out, but I think Jesus would call it . . . grace.    Her paycheck would be coming soon. She assured me that she could repay the $300 once it went into her account. I believed her, but I also knew that the odds were great that I would never see that $300 again. The Bible says, never a borrower nor a lender be. So, I gave her the money, telling her that while I could sure use it back, I would never hold it over her if she didn’t. I would never want it to get in the way of our relationship. Turns out, child support took out a lot more than she expected. I would never see that $300 again.   Germinating Generosity   Some may think that is the end of the story, but that is where they would be wrong. You see, my husband and I had been saving to buy a different car. The one we had was nearly 20 years old with more than 250,000 miles on it. We had been keeping our eyes open for a while and, right after I dipped into our car fund to give her the rent money, we found a great deal. We would be $300 short. Part of the plan was to sell the old car for what we could get for it—hoping to get maybe $500, if we were lucky. Our ad read (hitting the highlights), “High mileage . . . rust over the wheel wells . . . transmission needs work” . . .  That oughta really bring 'em in!   Well, the first guy to respond to our ad showed up, started the car (never did drive it), asked a few questions, and handed my husband $1,100 in cash. $600 more than what we had hoped to get. Twice what I had given, at God’s prompting, to my friend in need. Double portion. The concept is biblical: the firstborn sons got a double portion of their father’s inheritance, Elisha received a double portion of Elijah’s spirit, Israel was promised a double portion of joy and blessing, Hannah’s husband gave her a double portion . . . because he loved her. I don’t think I was as tickled about getting the money back, or even the extra money, as I was that I felt that God approved of my decision to help my friend in need. He gave a double portion . . . because he loves me. I pray that he continues to work on my spirit of generosity. May I hold the things of this world more loosely and cling to him more tightly. It’s amazing to see him at work!   “One person gives freely, yet gains even more; another withholds unduly, but comes to poverty. A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.” Proverbs 11:24-25 NIV   “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8 NIV   “Instead of your shame you will receive a double portion, and instead of disgrace you will rejoice in your inheritance. And so you will inherit a double portion in your land, and everlasting joy will be yours.” Isaiah 61:7 NIV

Sunday nights were usually our Freedom Ministries at church—recovery groups and a service for those with “hurts, habits, and hang-ups.” From grief counseling, to divorce care, to addiction recovery, the group was truly there to find hope and healing and their gatherings were some of the most genuine “church” I have ever been a part of. On this evening, it was a church-wide praise and worship service, but many of the usual Sunday night attenders were there. The first person I saw as we approached the church was a friend of mine, who I met at the jail. She ran to give me the biggest hug ever! As we entered, I spotted another friend who had been working on recovery for the past eight years—mentored extensively by a friend of mine who, like me, had not struggled with addiction herself. I went to get a hug from her, but I could tell as I approached that not all was well. When I asked her how she was doing, she admitted—not well. And then the tears began to fall, and a litany of her struggles began to pour out. I just gave her another big hug and asked if we could grab a coffee the next day, to which she quickly agreed.   The next day, we had about a half-hour window between when she got off work and when she had to pick up her daughter from daycare. We indulged in the sweetness of some decadent cupcakes as we jumped right to the heart of matters. We quickly made our way through a couple items from her litany before landing on that thing which God had made plans for. She shared how she and her long-time mentor and friend had just been struggling lately. There were so many times where her mentor said things that, although well-intentioned, cut deeply. Things that were probably truth, but how they were said . . . when they were said . . . wounded her to the very core. Her AA sponsor had suggested she should “put up healthy boundaries” and maybe even end the “toxic relationship.”   As so often is the case, even as I came to bring wisdom and counsel, I found myself the recipient of wisdom and counsel. I needed to hear her words—perhaps more than she may have needed to hear mine. She helped me see myself through the eyes of those whom I go to serve. I was able to help her see her mentor through my eyes—another one who didn’t really understand addiction, who stepped on toes without ever meaning to. I gained insights into how to love better. She gained insights into why her mentor may do things the way she does. At one point, I asked her if she knew how much her mentor loved her. She began to weep. Oh, yes, she knew how much she loved her.    Of all the people who were at that service that evening, I was just the one that could help her see that, in spite of the misunderstanding, the hurtful words, and the stepped-on toes, this relationship was founded on love. It wasn’t “toxic.” It may be messy—most relationships are! But it was most certainly worth fighting for. I assured her that her mentor needed her just as much as she needed her mentor. That her mentor was in need of as much grace and forgiveness as she may be. We need each other. There are so few who dare to cross the bridge across societal and cultural divides. To go there often enough and stay there long enough to truly get to know those on the other side. To dally in the middle where we can learn so much from each other and bring the best from both worlds. Iron sharpens iron. Sometimes we can get wounded in the process. But the battle is worth it, for when our wounds heal we are braver and stronger and wiser . . . and we love so much more deeply. En garde!   “Whoever would foster love covers over an offense, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends.” Proverbs 17:9 NIV   “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” Ephesians 4:2 NIV   “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Ephesians 4:32 NIV   “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” Proverbs 27:17 NIV

She calls them “shame bumps.”  Those things that keep us from drawing near to others—or to God.  It’s as old as time, really . . . shame bumps.  From the very first sin in the Garden of Eden, we see Adam and Eve hide in the bushes when they hear God walking in the garden.  What they had done—their act of rebellion—sent them running from the presence of God.   My friend went on to explain that she refused to call them anything more than bumps, because we can get over them.  Shame is not some insurmountable obstacle that irrevocably keeps us from God’s presence.  However, the evil one would love for us to believe otherwise.  How often does shame keep people from those they love—from getting together, answering their calls, or returning their texts?  People who they may have hurt in their act of rebellion . . .   How many times has shame kept people from going to church?  Left them feeling too unworthy to be in the house of God . . .   How many lies has shame had people believing about themselves?  A web of deceit that keeps them from seeing themselves through the eyes of God . . .   Even as my friend was sharing her theory on shame bumps, I had other friends who had failed to respond to my calls or texts—ashamed of a recent relapse.  I had friends who weren’t coming to church—ashamed of lifestyle choices.  I began to consider the concept of “shame bumps.”  It occurred to me that we, as friends and fellow believers, are put in a very powerful position.  We have the power to add to the shame, making the bump even higher and harder to get over . . . or the power to carve a little off the top.  Judgment, condemnation, self-righteousness: fruits of the flesh that are sure to add to their shame, making it next to impossible to overcome.  Grace, forgiveness, unconditional love: gifts from God that can lower the shame, making it just a little easier to get over.    Sometimes I feel that my very presence—as the “church lady” or “Christian mentor”—can add to that shame.  Sometimes, I feel that they run from me like Adam and Eve ran from God.  I just wish they knew, I’m not God . . . I’m just another sinner with my own shame bumps.  Maybe I could use still more humility and vulnerability if I am ever going to be good at carving off the tops of shame bumps.  Maybe that’s one of the mountains I have yet to scale.  Maybe others will extend some grace that might shave a little off the top . . .   “Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden.” Genesis 3:8 NIV   “Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord,” Acts 3:19 NIV   “For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.” Hebrews 8:12 NIV   “…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God…” Romans 3:23 NIV

She didn’t make much eye contact and her hands fidgeted with the Bible on her lap as she sat in the front passenger seat. I had just picked her up from a counseling session with a biblical counselor. She made small conversation and still had her sweet smile, but I could tell that there was lot going on in her mind. In a lapse in the conversation, she said, “I didn’t really think I needed that, but I guess I did.” Not making the leap with her, I had to ask, “Needed what?” “Counseling . . . someone to talk through all these things with,” she replied. “Not that I can’t talk with you . . .,” she quickly added. But I was just as quick to reassure her that it was okay to want to dig deep with someone else—someone who would know better than I how to sort it all out. I shared how I thought it was so important to get all that stuff that we keep way down deep inside and bring it up into the light, sift through it, take inventory of it. Sometimes, it loses power when it is brought out in the open rather than left in the dark. I remembered a sermon my pastor gave once. It was about a trunk in the basement with damp things that were molding and rotting. Left there, the mold would only spread to other things and the damage would become even greater than it was, destroying the very trunk that held the moldy items. But, brought up out of the basement and spread out across the yard, things would dry out. The mold could no longer grow or spread. The damage was minimized. So it is with our “junk.” Left in the dark, it has the power to destroy us. Brought to the light, we can find resolution, reconciliation . . . redemption. It was a sermon that has really stuck with me, and I think of it often as some of these women share with me some of the things that have been molding and rotting in their core. These things that lie at the root of so many of the surface issues in their lives. And apparently that’s what the counselor had said . . . they would get to the root of her issues. And I could tell from her expression, that was a daunting prospect, indeed. After another pause, she said, “It’s like I have made these boxes to keep those things in.” Using her hands to indicate these small, tight boxes. “Not only boxes, but walls around the boxes.” Again, the hands, indicating the walls around her imaginary boxes. I silently wondered what dark secrets she needed to work so hard to keep secret, from others . . . perhaps even from herself. Another thoughtful pause and she began to share more of what was on her mind. “I need to create a safe place to live while we deconstruct those boxes.” Wow! “Because I want my new place to be strong and secure. I want a solid foundation, no drafts.” The depth and insight of these words were slowly sinking in as I listened, marveling at her wisdom, at her courage. You see, this woman had been struggling with sin she didn’t even know was sin . . . before she came to know God. But now that she knew him—knew how he would have her live her life—the awareness of this sin and the battle to defeat it was rocking her world! But she was standing at this crossroads wanting to build a new life, on solid rock. On Christ! She wanted to build her life on the truths of scripture, she didn’t want the drafty winds of the culture to sway her from this newfound source of joy, and peace, and hope. If only more Christians were so determined. Later, as I was processing this conversation, I was thinking of her “safe place.” Her descriptive gestures had indicated it was a temporary place—a place between. Between the sealed boxes and her new home, which wasn’t quite yet finished. Between who she had been and who she was to become. I thought once again of the concept of the chrysalis. The cocoon that shelters the caterpillar as it makes its transformation to a butterfly. This temporary place between the world amongst the milkweed fronds and the world of fragrant blooms, dripping with rich nectar. In my rush to respond to what I thought God wanted to do with my latest breadcrumb, I had rushed ahead, past the closed doors on the million-dollar properties, to renting houses where these women could be transformed. I was beginning to realize that perhaps this temporary shelter was more likely to be found in relationships, in community. That, more than just a house, I was perhaps a part of this “safe place”—me, fellow believers, healthy relationships, Christian community . . . infused with unconditional love. I was becoming more and more convinced that this, indeed, was the true chrysalis, where shelter would be offered as she deconstructed her old life and got her wings. What an honor . . . what a responsibility. Lord, give me strength. Give me wisdom and courage to match hers as she builds her new home . . . with you. “There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.” Luke 12:2 NIV “He said to them, “Do you bring in a lamp to put it under a bowl or a bed? Instead, don’t you put it on its stand? For whatever is hidden is meant to be disclosed, and whatever is concealed is meant to be brought out into the open.”” Mark 4:21-22 NIV “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:24-25 NIV

I was raised Lutheran. It makes me kind of sad to even say that. It feels like I should say that I was raised Christian—and I was—but I had always gone to a Lutheran church. Once my husband and I were married, we also chose to go to a Lutheran church. So, the doctrines were familiar, the teachings similar, even from church to church. We did Bible study with people who had also been raised Lutheran. We sat in circles, mostly agreeing, seldom really questioning—more often firming up the shores of our long-held traditions and beliefs, lest anyone think of becoming Baptist or something! So, when I quit my job to follow Jesus, one of the first things he did was lead me to a Baptist church. When I couldn’t make it to the ladies’ study at my little country—very Lutheran—church, I found myself attending a Bible study at a Baptist church that was very inter-denominational. There were Baptists, Reformers, and Lutherans, among others. We still sat in circles, but we didn’t always agree. I found myself questioning. They brought up passages we never really addressed, and they interpreted things in ways that I had never heard. I was being stretched. The best thing was that all this questioning drove me straight to the source I should have been searching diligently from the start—the Bible! Imagine that . . . a Bible study that actually got me studying the Bible! And study it, I did. I began to be so hungry for what God’s word actually said. Not just what I had been told, or what Lutherans have deemed right—but what did it really say. Our little debates weren’t always comfortable, but we were growing in our knowledge and in our faith. We dubbed ourselves Scripture Sisters—we even had t-shirts made! I have come to realize that is true in so many areas of life, really. I hung out with family and friends who were raised much like I was, saw the world much like I did. We sat in circles, too, around tables, in lawn chairs, floating in pods at the lake, mostly agreeing, seldom really questioning—repairing the slats on the picket fence that kept us in . . . and others out. So, now, as God has me stepping way out of the bounds of my picket fence, I find myself being stretched once again. Things I thought I knew were right or true are in the line of fire. Long-held beliefs, “wisdom” that I was certain of, are now being challenged by new information, new perspectives . . . new people. From parenting, to working, to leisure—my worldview was taking some hits. For someone who needs to be “right”—who always thinks she is “right”! —this was stretching me, to be sure. Conversations are often not as comfortable. I find myself once again being challenged. Do I stand firm on my position or consider assuming the position someone else is taking? Is there some truth in each position? What is “right”?! The answer is no different than it was before. The answer comes from God’s word. Biblical doctrine seeps inevitably into every opinion, every value, every stance we take—on anything . . . or at least it should. From parenting, to working, to leisure. If I want to be “right,” I better stay hungry for the Word. Because I don’t want to just win the debate . . . I want to be right . And if I am taking the light into this dark world, I surely want to bring truth. Not some worldly-influenced, indoctrinated “truth.” The Truth. “One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cepha”; still another, “I follow Christ.” Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?” 1 Corinthians 1:12-13 NIV “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.” 2 Timothy 3:16-17 NIV “Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6 NIV

I have a friend who would always say, “Knowledge isn’t wisdom until you’ve walked it out.” I may not be quoting her quite right, but it’s something like that. In the season of Chrysalis, we started each morning with Bible study and one day, as we were gathered around the table, we got to talking about that. Her stance was that you would only have head knowledge until you had actually experienced it. That you couldn’t come to full understanding without having walked it out. I tended to disagree (surprise, surprise!) and was making the argument that you could understand and have wisdom on something just from reading it or talking to others about it. That you could be wise even if you hadn’t necessarily experienced it. Our conversation wasn’t too contentious, but I don’t think either one of us was going to be swayed. We sort of, nonverbally, agreed to disagree and the conversation moved on. After our times of Bible study, we were trying to establish a social enterprise venture that would provide the women with gainful employment while remaining in a safe and nurturing environment . . . thus, the chrysalis concept. I had seen a video of this acrylic pour technique that looked quite easy and made the most amazing butterfly painting. Other than actually mixing the paints, the video showed virtually the entire process—the video was 8 minutes and 12 seconds long. Using squeeze bottles, like those you use for ketchup and mustard, you drew the basic outline of a butterfly in black. Then, using orange and yellow and blue, you made alternating lines of color within the butterfly outline. A piece of cellophane was placed over the entire canvas, it was flipped over and gently pulled off and . . . voila! . . . a beautiful butterfly. Surely, we could be producing profitable works of art in no time. So, we gathered the supplies, mixed the paints, prepared the canvases, and set about producing our first butterflies. Well, as it turns out, it was not quite as easy as the video made it look. Our work consisted of the quality of preschool to, maybe, third grade artwork! The more attention that was paid to the details of the process and the more times the video was watched directly correlated to the quality of the work. But none of us came close to achieving what the artist in the video was able to create. With a few self-deprecating comments, some light-hearted mocking, and gentle encouragement being murmured around the table amidst a good share of laughing, we set out to try again. Based on what had worked and not worked, we each made another attempt incorporating what we had learned. Without exception, each of our butterflies turned out better the second time. Yet, still nowhere near as good as the amazing butterfly in the eight-minute video. With repeated efforts, we continued to improve and even as I was gently pulling the painting from the cellophane—this time being sure to draw it up uniformly—it dawned on me. Knowledge isn’t wisdom until you’ve walked it out! I had watched the video so many times and paid close attention to every detail in the video, or so I thought. And yet, without actually going through the process I was far from accomplished in the technique. I had been so confident that we could just watch this video clip and be able to do what the artist in the video had done. I couldn’t help but feel a slight admonishment from the Lord. He was convicting me, not about YouTube art but about biblical wisdom . . . life. The proximity of our conversation to this teachable moment was not lost on me. I admitted to my friend, she was probably right. Farther down the road on this crazy journey, I think of her and of that day often. There are so many things I had studied and read . . . things I was sure I knew . . . things I felt I was wise about, and yet . . . it was merely knowledge. I had lots of doctrines and theology in my head, verses memorized, “wisdom” to impart. And then I started walking. It was preschool to third-grade level, at best. My spiritual maturity was far from where I believed it to be. I had so much walking out to do. There is a reason God has told us to “go therefore, and make disciples of all nations.” You see, that’s the walking out part. We are supposed to go to church, study scripture, spend time in prayer, for sure. But then, we are to “go therefore.” Because it isn’t enough to know it, we’ve got to walk it out. I used to think that verse was for the benefit of the people we would take the message to. God was teaching me, it was just as much about moving knowledge . . . to wisdom. “Join together in following my example, brothers and sisters, and just as you have us as a model, keep your eyes on those who live as we do.” Philippians 3:17 NIV “Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” Philippians 4:9 NIV “But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.” Hebrews 5:14 NIV

I remember the first time I met her, and I won’t forget it soon. It was in the women’s county jail—the key word being women’s . However, she was clearly masculine—or attempting to appear masculine. Her hair was longish, but shaved on the sides so that when it was drawn up it looked like a man’s. Her frame was slight, but her gait and mannerisms were clearly masculine. It was her first time attending my study, I would find out later it was her first time attending any Bible study. She was friendly and helpful, stepping right up to help grab chairs off the stack to set around the table where we would gather. As I took the chairs from her, I heard myself saying, “Thank you, sir!” As quickly as I said it, I realized my mistake—it was, after all, the women’s jail! So, I quickly corrected myself, saying, “I mean ma’am!” “That’s okay,” was her casual reply. “I get that all the time.” We proceeded with our study and I was sharing with evidence as I often did. She was so intrigued and listened with rapt attention—soaking up the conversation, asking lots of questions. She would share later that she had never heard anyone talk about the Bible this way—using scientific evidence to validate the people, places, and events of the Bible. I was so excited that she was excited. Perhaps she would come to believe in this amazing God we love and serve! I was sure she would come again and I was eager to teach her more. But then, it happened. She threw it right out there, with no warning and very little left of our time together. “So, you probably guessed it, but I am homosexual. What does the Bible say about that?” Oh, man, the bombshell was laying out there and the room went silent. Everybody was waiting to hear what I would say. Truth in love. Truth in love. The phrase kept running through my mind. You see, I did love her! But I knew she wouldn’t want to hear the truth. Seriously, God? I thought to myself. The first day? Couldn’t we have had time to build a relationship? Lay some more groundwork? But there it was, out on the table. So, I answered as I had come to answer that most delicate of questions. I told her, “You know, I don’t come to share my opinion, but rather I want you to know that God is real and that this book is truth—his word to us. I want you to come to know God and to read his word, then he will speak to you about his thoughts on homosexuality. As for how I interpret what scripture says, I believe God designed us—one man, for one woman, for life.” There. I had said it. Pretty sure she wouldn’t be back the next week. But then, you never do know . . . She did come back. Each week during that stay at the county jail . . . and the next . . . and the next. She kept coming and, it was interesting, because while I never really brought the topic up again, she would from time to time. And it was clear that God was working on her. She said so herself. As it would turn out, God did give us time to build a relationship, to lay some groundwork. She began attending my Bible studies on the “outside,” as they would say. We developed a great friendship and ended up spending quite a bit of time together. I remember there were four of us at the table, where we sipped coffee and dug into God’s word. And she started seeking relational advice about her ex-wife and her most recent girlfriend. It was a little uncomfortable for the group and one wandered to the kitchen and the other to the front porch for a smoke break. And while the shock factor of this had worn off considerably for me, it was still a topic that was uncomfortable. But at least now, I was realizing, it wasn’t as much because it was homosexuality . . . but because it was sin. And we are all sinners and struggle with our own things. While I clearly remembered the dramatic story of Sodom and Gomorrah from my childhood years in Sunday school, and how the sort of whispered acts of sodomy had become more vivid as I came to realize just what this act was, I don’t remember the teaching of Ezekiel 16:49. Yet, somehow on this journey, God highlighted this particular passage for me. Not just as words my ears heard and my head stored . . . but words my heart heard . And I stood convicted. The true sin of Sodom and Gomorrah was not just the sexual sin that was rampant in the cities—but that the people were “arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.” Harsh words . . . that describe so many in our churches today. Harsh words that described me, before God really got ahold of me. So, yes, while homosexuality may be wrong in God’s eyes, we are not one to cast stones. We should pull the plank out of our own eyes before we point out the speck of dust in theirs. And so, sitting at that table with her, I would not judge her, but neither would I be party to the sin. Instead, I gently said, “First of all . . . you know I love you. But you also know how I feel about this. I am not comfortable giving relational advice on something that I see as wrong in the eyes of God. And it is not just on the homosexuality, but that I see marriage as a life-long covenant—a commitment to one partner. And that sex before marriage is a sin. So, you see, putting the gender issues aside, there are so many other behaviors that I just don’t see as right. So, I just don’t feel comfortable weighing in at all on this issue. We can look at what scripture has to say about it, but I won’t give my opinion on what you should do.” I was surprised by her response. Rather than taking offense, she embraced my unintentional offer. “Really? I think we should. Could we look at what scripture says on this? Together? I have been reading about it, but I would really like to dig into it with you.” And then, she said something that I have thought back on so many times since. “You were the first one to come to me without an agenda . . . just Jesus. Everyone else has an opinion on how I should look, how I should dress, how I should live my life. You just brought me Jesus.” I almost cried. Had he brought me this far? This “recovering Pharisee,” full of self-righteousness and judgment. Had he finally brought me to a place where the first thing I wanted to give people was Jesus . . . rather than my opinion?! Perhaps it was true! And my heart rejoiced! We would have many more conversations to follow, hard conversations. Truth in love. Truth in love. The jury is still out on whether she will ever be free from her struggle, or if she will choose to refrain from a homosexual lifestyle. I am trusting that, with Jesus in her life, she will be set free. But one thing I have learned, for certain, is that it is far better when I don’t come with an agenda . . . just Jesus. “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 4:15 NIV “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.” Matthew 7:1 NIV “You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” Matthew 7:4 NIV “Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral.” Hebrews 13:4 NIV “I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery.” Matthew 19:9 NIV

The call came at something like 11:30pm. She was upset and sounded a little desperate. My sleepy brain was trying to process all she was telling me . . .   A week or so earlier, she had moved from one of the local homeless shelters to live with a friend who had just recently gotten an apartment. The friend had offered for both her and her husband, who had been staying in the men’s housing at the same shelter, to come and stay with her and her girls. I had advised against it. I liked her friend, but I was so worried about what all might happen at that apartment. My friend and her husband were doing so well at the shelter . . . they were working towards getting their kids back out of foster care . . . things were looking good . . . this didn’t seem good . . . my mama bear was rising up, and I wished I could just put them in a bubble! She went anyway.   So now, at this late hour, I was receiving the call I had feared. People were there, people were using drugs, accusations were being tossed back and forth. The truth was as hard to see as the breeze that makes the waves toss to and fro. It was not on my agenda and certainly not convenient, but I felt I must go—and my husband agreed. This couple had been doing so well, working so hard for sobriety and for their little family. This could be the end of all of it. And so, off into the night I went, to pick them up and bring them to our house for the night. They would go back to the shelter in the morning.   It wasn’t until several days later that I got downstairs to wash the bedding and tidy up the room where they had stayed. It was not until then that I saw the red stain. On the carpet next to the guest bed, one of them must have spilled a Gatorade or something. It was right there for all to see, dried now, probably next to impossible to remove. I found my frustration just welling up inside me! Why were they drinking Gatorade in the middle of the night?! How did it get spilled?! Why didn’t they try to clean it up—or at least tell me?!?! Of course, it was impossible to remove at this point. The red stain is still there, for all to see. A reminder, of sorts, every time I see it. But a reminder of what . . .?   “Inconvenient” Hospitality   I found myself really thinking about that red stain. Indeed, my house bore several marks that were reminders of “inconvenient” hospitality. There were missing knick-knacks, broken during the temper tantrums of a hurting child venting frustration and buried pain, that had to be thrown away. The carvings on the dining room table. And the hole in the closet door of the guest room, where the door handle had punched through when it was slammed open in a fit of rage.   I found it interesting, that these material things were almost the hardest for me to deal with. It wasn’t the late hour calls, the tantrums themselves, the scathing words that were spoken in the fits of rage. It wasn’t even the boisterous, sometimes obnoxious, behavior of the children we brought into our home while their families worked to get things in order. It wasn’t the incessant chatter and a volume level that was decibels louder than usual for my normally quiet, empty-nester house. It was when my “stuff” got messy, or stained, or broken. Why did it frustrate me so much? Was my tidy house and my carpet and my “stuff” really more important than a couple’s sobriety and their family’s reunion? Or the safety and well-being of children from hard places? I don’t know exactly why that is the worst of it for me, but I have come to realize that if that is the worst of it . . . is it much of a sacrifice after all?   The Ultimate “Inconvenience”   As I said, I have found myself really thinking about that red stain. The irony of it isn’t lost on me . . . a red stain. I am reminded of the “inconvenient” sacrifice that Christ made, shedding his blood—for  my  sins! My “inconvenience” suddenly pales in comparison. Whenever I go into the guest room and see the unsightly stain, I am reminded that it is another red stain, Christ’s spilt blood, that has washed me clean! And now, because of it, the same power that raised Christ from the dead lives  in me . It is that very same Spirit that has prompted us to open our home to “inconvenient” hospitality. Surely, I can offer the same grace and forgiveness—for a broken knick-knack or a spilled Gatorade! Indeed, may I grow in my love for others that I would not even notice or care about such trivial things. But rather, that I would see the broken hearts and the broken lives in need of Christ’s redeeming love. May I spend more time mending hearts, even if it means scrubbing a few carpets.   “And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.” Hebrews 13:6 NIV   “Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.” 1 Peter 4:9 NIV   “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.” 1 John 1:7 NIV

The phone call woke me from a sound sleep. I was a bit disoriented and I had no idea what time it was. A call in the night is never good, so my heart was racing a bit. The caller ID and the voice didn’t match and it took just another moment for my brain to figure out it was my friend’s husband, calling from her phone. This couple happens to be homeless and they were currently living, separately, at the Mission downtown—she in the women’s unit, he in the men’s. Why would he be calling? From her phone? He started to speak and then interrupted himself, “I guess I should start with good morning.” Good morning? What time was it?! “Do you happen to be in Sioux Falls?” he continued. Sharper than I intended, I responded, “What time is it?” “Six o’clock,” was his response. Half laughing, half irritated, I shot back, “It’s six o’clock on a Saturday morning . . . No, I am not in Sioux Falls. I am sleeping!” What he said next cleared some of the sleepy haze from my mind. He went on to say that my friend had been in the emergency room, and she had been diagnosed with strep and pneumonia. They had been discharged from the ER around three in the morning, and they had slept in a drainage ditch behind the Sanford Hospital bus. As so many times before, their predicaments seemed almost unbelievable, beyond my comprehension. A remnant of the old me was creeping in, wondering if they had just been drinking? If they had gotten themselves into some kind of trouble? Kicked out of the Mission . . . again? I mean, do strep and pneumonia even go together?! And what was I to do about it? In my groggy state, the new me wrestled for control. How many times had I made quick judgments, only to discover that the crazy predicaments were absolutely real—and often completely out of their control. Compassion entered into my voice. “What can I do to help? Do you need a ride? Does she need a place to stay?” I agreed to drive to Sioux Falls to see what I could do. As I informed my still groggy husband, we agreed (with some lingering skepticism) that I would go assess what was “really going on” and then make a decision about what to do next. What was “really going on” was exactly what my friend’s husband had described. I found them near 19th and Walts. The husband was waving me down from a retaining wall, my friend was asleep . . . in a drainage ditch. He gently roused her and she rose unsteadily to her feet, literally staggering to my car. As she crawled in, I could see the cotton ball peeking out from under the band aid on her forearm. I could see the hospital ID bracelet around her wrist. I later would see the discharge papers: strep . . . AND pneumonia! As we gathered a few of her things at the Mission, the lady in charge commented, “Well at least they didn’t discharge you in the middle of the night!” To which my friend responded, “They did.” “They always do that!” was this seasoned shelter worker’s response. Everything I had heard in that early morning call was true. And I learned even more, later, from my friend. Her husband had been working at his new job at Popeye’s when he got a call from his wife’s phone, from someone who wasn’t his wife. A call from one of her friends at the Mission, informing him his wife was being taken by ambulance to the ER. He had told his boss he had to go and, not having a car, he RAN from the southeast corner of Sioux Falls to the hospital in the heart of the city—nearly four miles! When they were discharged in the middle of the night, she had not had the strength—or the lung capacity!—to walk to the Mission. No buses were running until 8:45am on a Saturday morning. So, as they slept on a concrete slab, he lay next to her as a human blanket to try and keep her warm as she shivered in a feverish state. She had told him he couldn’t “bother me” in the middle of the night. But by 6am, as she lay sleeping, he used her phone to reach out to the only person he could think of who might be willing to help. And, I am ashamed to admit, that person had almost written their “crazy predicament” off as a story, a ploy to help him get his intoxicated wife back to the shelter. That person had almost let her judgmental, old self miss out on getting to be “Jesus in the skin” to a couple who needs a hand up…not more judgment. Luckily, my new self realized that what God had planned for my day was far better than the boating outing my husband and I had planned . . . for our anniversary. I realized that if my daughter had strep and was sleeping in a drainage ditch, I would hope someone would bring her home, put her in a comfortable bed, and feed her chicken soup. And so, the comfortable plans I had for the day were quickly replaced with something far less “comfortable.” And yet, I feel as I brought her chicken soup in bed, she wasn’t the only one who was healing. So, if you see people sleeping in a ditch in the wee hours of the morning . . . don’t just assume they’re passed out, drunk. They might be! But they might not . . . If you have an employee, who is “rough around the edges” and runs out early on a Friday night shift with some cockamamie story about his wife being taken to the hospital . . . don’t just assume he got a better offer, had a party he needed to get to. He might have! But maybe not . . . In walking with people through the hardest seasons of their lives, I am learning that so much of what I thought I knew—so many judgments I can so quickly make—aren’t even close to the truth. My friend’s husband has had to “run off” or miss work more than once because of the “crazy predicaments” that come up in their world. A world I realize now that I have denied and tried to seal myself off from. A world that I had known little to nothing about. This man may lose his job because he has had to respond to situations that we may simply never be able to really understand. Rather than being lazy or irresponsible or selfish, he may actually be a hardworking, devoted, sacrificial husband whose world just looks a little different than yours or mine. So next time you think to yourself, “Why don’t they just get a job?!” maybe there are parts of the story you just don’t know about. I know this couple—not everything about them, for sure—but I do know them. And I see two scenarios unfolding . . . A boss, a society, that fires him because of assumptions and lack of understanding. He loses his job. Fails to earn the money they need to get their own apartment. And, the part I haven’t told you yet, they have three children—who they LOVE —that are in the custody of CPS. Three children they stand to lose if they don’t get their own apartment. In this scenario, the stereotype, and perhaps even his own image of himself, is reinforced. He is a screw-up, worthless, irredeemable. Or . . . A boss, a society, that gives him one more chance . Maybe even an “undeserved” chance. He keeps his job. Earns the money to get their own apartment. Those three beautiful children—who they LOVE —return to the home God intended for them in the first place. A scenario where the stereotype, and perhaps even his own image of himself, is replaced with a new identity . . . in Christ . He is loved, he is precious, he is worthy—he is redeemed ! So, which scenario will we choose to be a player in? As Christians, I hope we choose the latter. Because, after all, isn’t that what Christ has done for us? Given us one more chance . Maybe even an “undeserved” chance. That is unconditional love and grace. If Christ lives in us, we will find ourselves offering more and more of that. And what kind of world could that be . . . ? “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.” James 2:12-13 NIV “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” Matthew 5:7 NIV “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.” 1 John 3:16 NIV