Showing posts from June, 2013


Lookout - it's one of those nights. I have arrived home from another Zion Wednesday exhausted, but too overwhelmed by joy and grace to keep it to myself. I'll back up a bit.

I am a 3/4 time solo pastor. That means, in order to do anything creative | outside the box | risky | new | growth-focused, I spend even more weekend and evening hours away from my family. It means I stretch myself a little thinner and have to put down things that others view as essential to my role. It means feeling like I'm a little crappier at life because there are more spinning plates in the air.

But Zion is all about trying new things and so am I, so we're constantly weighing and balancing this dilemma. It's messy and it's so, so fun. I am moved by our mistakes and our victories. I begin experiments convinced that I am crucial and, in the end, am overwhelmed with gratitude for the Village.

The Lyndale Community Dinner is a good thing. We feed 50 people every week. Most of them are re…

truest self.

I've had a few pastoral care conversations this month
that echo one another.
I don't think God hears every prayer 
and I don't think God necessarily cares.
I feel bad because I'm usually asking for stuff when I pray 
and I don't like to be needy.
What's the point of praying, anyway?

Anne Lamott has three prayers: help, thanks, and wow. I have three prayers, too: ugh, why, and yahoo. Prayer can sometimes feel too casual or too awkward. It can be used sparingly or you can sound like a broken record. You might feel like a crazy person talking to yourself or a selfish brat for making it all about you.
Sometimes I try to list a bunch of stuff about other people before I get to the crap about me because I feel bad for only praying for what I want and need.
When people confide in me about this stuff, I get (what my mom calls) diarrhea of the mouth. I have a billion mediocre metaphors and ideas waiting to erupt and I have to remember to slow down and listen. And in listeni…


Be still (and leave your not-so-still child in able hands while you get out of Dodge) and know that I am God.
I spent 8 days away from Jasper and it was hard. Without that daily text or picture or update, my heart started to ache. 
I spent 8 days alone with my husband on a boat. And by alone, I mean we were on a Carnival Cruise with 3,000 of our closest friends. 
We did not participate in the poolside "hairy chest contest" or buy the unlimited drinks passes, mostly because we're not hairy enough and rather frugal. But Coronas flowed, we overate, and the water slide made me squeal out loud. Our snug room on Deck One did not have windows or a clock, so it was pitch black until we stirred each morning. As the boat rocked us to sleep one night, Matt purred, "I feel like I'm sleeping in a big Baby Bjorn."
It was good to get away. With work covered and our phones off, my biggest decision each day was pizza v. reuben for an afternoon snack. (Regrets? Easy to recti…