All posts tagged: #jesus

Legion

[featured on Perissos, 5/18/16] The story of Legion gives me nightmares. It’s about a naked, bleeding, demon-possessed man with super-human strength, who lives in a cemetery, intentionally cuts himself with stones, and haunts the region with his screams. I think Legion looks like Sasquatch, the Hulk, and Satan all mixed together. In my dreams I walk toward the hillside at night, and I want to help him. I want to take him to a homeless shelter where he can get a shower, a meal, and a bed. I want to drive him to the ER and have someone look at his open wounds. I want him to get transferred to the Psych Ward. I want to give him a fresh start. I walk up the hill in the moonlight driven to find him. When he jumps out from behind a stone my adrenaline surges. I see his crazed eyes, long, matted hair, and gray teeth. I see his naked skin smeared with months of dirt and blood. I see deep scars from all his self-harm, …

World Changer Wednesday – Jesus

I can’t count how many times I’ve begged God for Rescue in my small life. Chronic pain keeps kicking me. Infertility taunted me. Kids test me. I say and do so many things I regret. And even when I’ve done everything right, I sometimes get lost or mistreated anyway. I can’t fix any of it on my own. I call out for “Help!” and I want a Rescuer to come running. When I call out to God for “Help!” I’m usually wanting Magic. I want the people I’ve hurt to get acute amnesia about our last conversation. I want the drunk driver to swerve a different direction and miss my car. I want my kids to be 100% compliant. Other times when I want God to “Help!” I’m asking for Power. I want to be Right and influence others to agree and act. I want to Perfect and avoid all mistakes. I want pain and suffering to end for me and everyone else. I want “Help!” right in the moment. I want a concierge and team of experts …

Bullies

I was bullied mercilessly as a kid. It started in 3rd grade, when I suddenly didn’t understand the fast multiplication in blue pen on the overhead projector. I got moved from smart math to regular math. My bully taunted, “Ha! You thought you were smart and you’re NOT! You are STUPID.” I walked through the halls with my head down. On the bus my bully would point and laugh when I moved my book bag over for a neighbor to sit down and she’d walk past ignoring me. “You have NO FRIENDS! You are LAME!” she shouted. I would sink in my seat, cross my arms, and try not to cry. We moved away after 6th grade. My new school in California was totally different. I was offered drugs on the bus and jr highers were having sex under the trailers instead of going to class. It didn’t take long for a bully to find me. “You don’t smoke POT?! You’re such a goody goody. NERD! LOSER!” I don’t think a boy talked to me once and my …

A Little Note About Worrying

Today I’m flying home from Haiti with Greta. I can’t wait to share stories of what we saw and heard. In the meantime, here is a little note about Worrying, because as I packed for the trip, worry was sneaking and swirling all around me.  Most of the time sleep comes easily for me. I am so ready to crash after 18 hours of busy life every day. The thing that keeps me awake some nights, though, is pain. A few years ago complications from a hospital procedure left me bedridden in massive pain for 11 days. I couldn’t sleep. I saw my pain, my inability to handle it, and the brokeness that required the procedure as failings. This led to a long rabbit trail of shame and shoulds, long into the early morning hours. I tried to conquer those thoughts with a list of things I could control, like a to-do list. But then Jesus interrupted me. Me: Tomorrow I need to write that email to the moms. I need to call the doctor for the refill. …

Don’t Touch My Face (Ash Wednesday)

One of my favorite childhood memories happened on Ash Wednesday. My mom took us to mass at St. Joes, we got ashes on our foreheads, and then went out to breakfast even though school had already started. I don’t remember the church service or any conversation. I only remember my pretty mom across the booth from me in the diner with the smudged cross on her forehead, and imagined mine looked exactly the same. I felt loved and proud. I belonged, to my mom and to my church. I was set and solid inside. A few years later we moved across the country and no longer went to the Catholic church. We didn’t celebrate Ash Wednesday. I felt relieved. By this point I had a Problem. And there was no way I could go to Ash Wednesday with it. The thought of a priest looking right at me, seeing my Problem, and maybe touching it made me shudder. My Problem was that I had bumps on my face. Blemishes, acne, zits, whatever. They were my greatest shame. I …

Called to Compassion – Since the Earthquake in Haiti

[Part Three of a three-part story about what happened when my kids decided we should “Help Haiti” in 2010.]  Recap of the previous two posts about Compassion and the Earthquake in Haiti:   Five years ago a catastrophic 7.0 quake struck Haiti.  My five year old twins heard about it and wanted to help.  This was new.  We tried to listen and equip them to try something.  We did a little bake and craft sale with a $500 goal.  Our friends, neighbors, school, church, and facebook community responded with lavish generosity.  We became a bridge for sending $33,000 to Haiti that year.  It was completely unexpected.  [For the full scoop read “Compassion Catapult – The Earthquake in Haiti” and “Contagious Compassion – The Earthquake in Haiti.”]   Whenever people hear this crazy story they have lots of great questions: Why do you think this happened? Why did your kids want to do something? Why did the school want to help?  Why did you keep saying Yes? Why was it so contagious? Why did it get so big? I have the same questions. I think these are deep Soul questions.  Based in …