Cleaning Up

My life, it seems, is actually a span of many seasons.

I got to spend almost a week with her in her beautiful, clean, and organized home. The time was refreshing on many levels, and just what I needed. 

While I was away, when he wasn't at work, my amazing husband dedicated much of his time to painting our walls (to cover up the artwork my children had decided to display in just about every room and corner of our home). It was great to come home to clean walls...but it pushed every bit of our clutter right out into the center of our house. 

The contrast to the pristine, organized environment I'd just left was staggering and overwhelming. What this means, unfortunately, is that I spent much of my first day home crying instead of enjoying my people.

But God...His timing is always so perfect. While I was in Florida, I'd also finished the book I'd been reading (The Search for Significance, by Robert S. McGee), and had finally claimed freedom from the shame I'd been dragging around with me for years (you can read more about that in my last post, Rekindled). 

For as long as I could remember, I'd been bearing the weight of that shame and hopelessness, telling myself (in many areas of my life) that I just didn't have the ability to be any different: this was just how things were, attempts to change were futile. Of course, those weren't always my conscious thoughts, but the feelings lurked way down deep, lying in wait to sabotage any attempts I might make at actually being different.

But now, having claimed freedom, I came home to a place where I had to do something about it. I'm starting to sense a pattern in the way God works: He's all about the object lesson. He's not going to teach you anything without immediately giving you a way to practice what you've just learned.

And so, I came home to chaos, and I knew it was time to handle it.

At first, it seemed kind of easy. Despite much evidence to the contrary, I thoroughly enjoy organizing and employing organizational systems. Slowly, I started bringing order to places: the linen closet, the pantry, the food storage containers, the medicine cabinet and bathroom shelves, and that one section of cabinets in the kitchen things just sort of get tossed into.

However, I became deeply discouraged because, while I was making great progress in purging and organization, the parts of the house that are actually in view were still a wreck! Finally, I threw myself face-down before the Lord and just cried out: "God, this is so hard! I am trying to follow You diligently, but I gotta tell ya, it doesn't look like it's making a bit of difference! I'm getting so frustrated. It doesn't feel like this is EVER going to come together!"

God answered me quickly and succinctly: "Alissa, changes that last rarely come quick or easy."

When I related that back to Josiah, he just laughed and said, "Because, 'If it was easy, we wouldn't need Jesus,' right?" Man, I hate it when my own words come back to bite me in the butt, but at least they're accurate. (For any new readers, that's a phrase I've used time and again, both in writing and in person. My man knows me so well.)

God also keeps bringing this scripture to mind:

So let us not get tired of doing what is good.

At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing

if we don't give up.

Galatians 6:9 (NLT, emphasis added)

Thus, the efforts continue, day by day, piece by piece...slow and steady may just win the race after all.

But even as I wrote this, God showed me something else about my story (He's so cool like that). I had expressed to a couple friends that progress looked so slow because I had to purge and organize the hidden places first - places like closets and pantries - because otherwise, when I went through the larger, everyday places, I wouldn't have places to put things. There would be no order and the cycle would just continue.

The same thing has been happening in my heart in recent months. God removed me from just about anything that looked like progress and performance on the outside, so he could do some much-needed purging and healing on the inside, deep down in the hidden places. Now, slowly, that work is coming out, changing things in my home first, and then gradually working its way outward.

Change can't be real or lasting if it doesn't first occur inside, in the deep, hidden places - either in our hearts or our homes.

That's the plan for now: to continue to make slow, steady progress from the inside out, knowing if I just keep at it, depending on God for direction and strength, I'll eventually reap a harvest of blessing, in my life and in my home. 

It's hard, ya'll. Sometimes it's intensely painful, and at times, I'm discouraged, but man...in the end, it's definitely worth it. 

The Tie that Binds

Earlier this week, I wrote An Open Letter regarding the recent events in Charlottesville, racial tension, and what I feel we do from here.

One of my suggestions (which came from people far wiser than me) was for us to seek out "the other:" find someone who looks and thinks differently than ourselves and listen very openly to their feelings and try to come to a place of understanding.

However, in giving counsel to the world, you place yourself in a very precarious position. You either learn to take your own advice or risk becoming the worst kind of hypocrite. I know I don't want to ever be considered hypocritical, so I decided to be brave and reach out.

But in all honesty, I totally cheated.

I reached out to Raniesa, my new friend from church. She certainly looks differently than I do, her skin a lovely, rich, dark shade of brown, but our personalities are so similar that it hardly felt unsafe to approach her.

As a matter of fact, I quite literally told her I wanted to talk to her because I trusted her enough to be honest with me if I said something dumb, knowing she would love me regardless. As I said, that seems to be cheating, but maybe we'll just call it baby steps.

We plopped down on her bed last night right around 7:30, and before we knew it, more than 3 hours had passed. Those 3 hours impacted me more than I ever could have imagined; I think they impacted us both.

I already knew our minds worked similarly and have joked that we're really the same person
in different bodies. What we didn't see, though, was that it was the combination of some remarkably similar and some vastly different life experiences that led us to that point.

And as much as I think we both thought we knew, we were shocked by certain revelations.

For example, we both attended Denbigh High School (and barely missed attending with one another), but where my experience was one of relative racial integration and harmony, hers was a much more segregated experience. With few exceptions, her friends were black, and she rarely saw people "cross the lines" into other groups.

We also have some similar family structures and issues, but many of the conversations in our families were vastly different, and led us, early on, to have contrasting assumptions about people of other races.

One thing, though, was very much the same: coming to Freedom Life Church changed us. Both of us encountered grace and truth in a way we hadn't up until that point, but also, because of its very eclectic congregation, it challenged and changed many of our racial assumptions.

Last night I confessed that, before coming to FLC, I felt like most black women tolerated me but really didn't like me. I really had no problem with them, I've just always felt like I annoy them. There were obviously exceptions to this, but generally, that was my perception.

FLC introduced me to amazing, beautiful, spiritually deep women who love me, listen to me, and value me...and a good portion of those women are black. Perception changed.

For Raniesa, growing up in church meant growing up in a "black church." For the most part, races worshiping together was unheard of for her, and she remembers vividly being hugged by Carrie when she first visited, a very southern white woman. She said she froze in that moment, wondering if Carrie was confused and if she knew that she was black; until that moment she had never been hugged by a white woman.

I don't know how it's possible to laugh and have your heart break at the same time, but hearing that caused both reactions in me - so close and yet so far. But now? Perception Changed.

We talked about so many things last night: her deep fear for her son as a black man, my fear for my sons' futures as white men (believe it or not, that's a thing); the term "white privilege" and our perceptions of it; church; experiences with racism. It was deep and personal and beautiful and so much fun.

On the way home, the words our youth pastor, James Wilson, Jr., posted on facebook earlier this week struck me in an entirely new way:

When you love someone you realize their story is a part of yours and what they experience effects you. Because you love them you are willing to be vulnerable with and for them, you are willing to use your platform to stand up for them, your are willing to lose your reputation for them, you are willing to give your life and its comfort for them.

Before last night, I liked Raniesa a lot as a person and loved her as a sister in Christ. When I left, knowing her much more intimately, I loved her. Why does that make a difference? Because I fight for people I love. 

She has claimed a piece of my heart, and once someone truly has real estate in your heart, there is an undeniable shift: I would fight to the death for the people I love, any hour of any day. Love is the tie that binds.

This realization energized me to my core. I started trying to think of all the people I wanted to know on a deeper level. It brought to mind so many individuals I've always thought I've known, but have probably only scratched the surface. It made me want to get in contact with and truly know people who not only don't look like me, but who don't think at all like me.

I'm not in any way under the assumption that all encounters will end like last night - I'm not that "sunshine and rainbows." However, I sincerely believe that even if I come away from an encounter still in disagreement, if I listen to understand their experience, I will still come away with an empathy and respect that I wouldn't have had otherwise, and that is always a worthy endeavor.

I hope reading this has touched you. I hope it's opened your eyes at least a little. But more than anything, I desperately hope and pray it moves you to action because the only way we know we belong to the truth is if our love is not just in speech and words, but if it moves us to action (1 John 3:18-19).

Here is your call to action: contact someone today. Don't put it off until tomorrow. Tell them you want to know more about their experience and who they are. Ask to be part of their world. 

After all...

The world is changed by your example,

not your opinion.

Paulo Coelho

Regarding Charlottesville: An Open Letter

Once upon a time, long, long a few years ago, when significant world or national events occurred, I would jump into the fray, quick to let the world know my viewpoint, absolutely positive that I was right. I just knew lives would be changed. I was in for disappointment.

Instead, I rapidly became thoroughly convinced that just about NO people's minds are changed by a social media post, and the only thing gained was a mixture of angry or supportive comments and maybe a few "likes."

The outcome was nowhere near worth the energy it took to navigate the resulting calamity, nor the wear and tear on my thumbs. 

Since then, I've spent most of my time sitting back and watching the world burn, which is certainly what it feels like. Every now and then, I have forgotten myself and waded into someone's comments section. It didn't take long to remember why I'd kicked the habit.

I like to think I've gained some perspective since then, just from listening - a little bit of listening goes a long way. But I haven't really considered jumping back in. The water looked cold and crowded, and I could see the sharks circling.

Then, over the weekend, in Charlottesville, VA, armed,white supremacists and counter protesters clashed at the removal of a statue of Confederate General Robert E. Lee, with tragic consequences: three people lost their lives and several others were badly injured.

Many of the subsequent responses that passed through my news feed saddened, angered, and perplexed me...but I still wasn't wading in. Everyone else had plenty to say, and I saw no need for me to add my two cents to the already deafening din.

I watched with pride and sorrow as my pastors managed their social media accounts in the aftermath. As leaders of a very intentionally multi-racial and multi-ethnic church, they were obviously and understandably hurt, grieved, and outraged by the events. Nevertheless, for the most part, they spoke words of strength, solidarity, and unity into what otherwise could be a very polarizing situation.

Still, for the last two nights, instead of sleeping, I have wrestled with internal questions over how we, as Christians, should respond, and whether we might be missing something. The Bible definitely calls us to seek justice for those oppressed, but it also calls us to seek peace, speak with wisdom that is pure and gentle, and to love our enemies.

At times, it seems impossible to pursue each avenue equally: on which side should we err?

I knew the answer I felt pressing into my spirit ALL NIGHT LONG, and today, I sought to share that with one of my pastors. When I walked out, I had gained some insight into his heart and philosophy and he into mine, but where we agreed when I walked in, we still agreed, and where we differed...well, that hadn't changed remarkably either. 

However, there was one thing he said that resounded in my heart like a gong: I have a voice, too, and it's my responsibility to use it.

I am overwhelmed and convicted by the fact that I am more than aware of my calling to speak the words I feel God has put on my heart, but until now, I've been too scared and fearful to address racial tension, and instead, generally stuck to what was safe: my all too often realizations that I have jacked something up and the lessons God has taught me in the mess.

Today is no exception.

I have felt for some time that I had no right to speak about racial tension: after all, I'm the whitest of the white. But today, Pastor Kyle taught me that to withhold my voice from the dialogue is wrong because only when we share our hearts with love and humility can we truly make a difference.

So, without further delay, here are a few of my thoughts and feelings regarding our current racial climate:

To my friends and family of color...

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry to see you hurting, and I'm so sorry for what you have endured, what you are enduring, and what you almost inevitably will endure in the future. I am praying for peace and love. I am hoping beyond hope that you will not allow roots of bitterness to strangle your hearts, but will instead, throw yourself  into the arms of Jesus and grow your roots deep into Him. It's a tall order, I know, but a worthy pursuit nonetheless. If I can help you in any way, I will -- but you'll probably have to let me know how to do that because I don't always understand fully. I try, but I'm pretty sure I get it wrong. I love you.

To my fellow white folks with noble hearts and pure intentions...

Keep trying. You might jack it up, but some effort is always better than no effort at all. It's confusing for us, I know. For me, there's some level of shame and guilt, particularly as a southern, white girl because I'm no stranger to our history, but at the same time, I'm proud of my heritage, too -- a daughter to the home of bluegrass, hard work, and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps until you make it work. I like that about my roots. Added to that, while each of us of every color have inborn biases, I try to be as nice as I can to everyone, no matter their race, and sometimes it feels like getting lumped into one giant, white clump is unfair because, after all, I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING! 

Also, can we just lay it out on the table that we've experienced racism, too. I know it. You know it. It feels good to say it, right?! Holding it in forever has felt like being the kid who has to pee really bad, but is too intimidated to ask the teacher to go to the bathroom until, finally, it leaks out at the MOST inopportune moment (I'm not going to say how I know what that feels like, but let's just say...that was one time I was really grateful we moved). However, like that unfortunate lack of bladder control, if we don't just go ahead and address it, it's going to leak out at the worst possible moment, like when our friends are already hurting. 

One of the things I tried to convey to Pastor Kyle today is this: I believe, our inability to express that we, too, have been harmed by racism is feeding an undercurrent of bitterness. It feels, sometimes, like our hurts and experiences don't matter, and while we understand the deep hurt felt by our friends, understanding their hurt doesn't negate ours...it doesn't make it go away...in the same way that knowing other people are starving to death can never satiate the roar of a stomach that hasn't eaten for two days. 

But here's the key: we wouldn't turn around to the starving person and complain about our grumbling tummies. It would be an insult. It would hurt. I'm really hoping this metaphor drives it home to you like it does me because, frankly, while I'm glad it's been discussed, I don't want to discuss it further here. 

Instead of nursing our own wounds, I think it's high time we put more time and attention into healing others. That means having some hard, transparent, awkward conversations with the intent to learn about those who are different than us...and I DO NOT mean on facebook. Forget social media. Treat someone to coffee. Take a walk. Have lunch. I don't care what you do, but listen to learn and understand, not to respond. Ask questions. 

That's how we learn, and that's how we heal.

 Finally, to the men and women who call yourselves the Alt-Right/Neo Nazis/whatever you're calling yourselves these days...

I know most people are calling you monsters. I know they say they hate you. However, this is probably where I will depart from others and, were this little diatribe in person, I'd probably get a rotten tomato to the face. 

I don't hate you. I feel for you very deeply. Broken people seek to break people, and healed people seek to heal people, and you are so obviously hurt, broken, and fearful. I don't know if it's a fear of losing your voices or your power. I don't know if it's a fear of what you don't understand, but somewhere in you there is so much hurt and fear, and somehow, it has manifested itself in rage and hardened hearts. I am praying for you, too. For you, it seems the root of bitterness has already strangled any roots you had to Christ, or even human kindness. Nevertheless, I am more than certain that no one is beyond the reach of my Savior. No one is beyond the reach of love. No one is beyond the reach of hope. 

And therefore, I love you. I hope for you. I pray for you, not with half-hearted words, but with the DEEP conviction that like the one sheep who strays from the ninety-nine, your heart, too, is worthy of pursuit. 

Inevitably, that last section will anger some people. I know that, and I accept it. I firmly believe deeply that it may be anger and indignation that change social policies, but it is only through love and patience that we will change hearts...and the latter can do far more to heal our nation than the former ever could.

Therefore I, the prisoner for the Lord,

urge you to walk worthy of the calling you have received,

with all humility and gentleness,

with patience,

accepting one another in love,

diligently keeping the unity of the Spirit

with the peace that binds us.

Ephesians 4:1-3

Perspective Changes Everything

Were you aware that until the 13th century, artists didn't know anything about how to create true perspective? They just made whatever they thought was important bigger than the other objects in the painting. Sometimes they would put things in the foreground or background, but not in a regular or accurate way. It was always skewed and inaccurate.*

I'm on a journey to become a better me, a healthier me, and as part of that journey, I bought a scale. I hadn't weighed myself since November, and I figured it was high time.

Last night, I put the batteries in the new scale, set it down, stepped on it...and reeled.

The number was NOT what I expected and NOT in a good way. 

Honestly, it was only about 5 lbs. different. However, between my 6 week postpartum appointment (when I was actually lower than my pre-pregnancy weight) and my newfound resolve, my complete abandonment of all things related to reasonable eating had done more harm than I thought. Praise God for great supplements or I'd probably be looking at an even bigger challenge.

I hopped off the scale, looked at Josiah, and grappled. "I will not cry." I said. "This is just a number, just a starting point. I will not cry. I will not let this stupid number defeat me."

And then, I did something that, at some points in my life, would have been emotional suicide: I had Josiah take a couple before pictures of me...in just a sports bra and underwear.

I said a quick prayer for strength and then I looked at them...and do you know what I saw??

A body.

That's all.

A body.

I saw an overweight body and an out of shape body, but just a body. It just didn't have the power it once would have, and for that I am GRATEFUL.

This morning, my Bible reading led me to Romans, and this Scripture popped out at me:

For though they knew God,

they did not glorify Him as God or show gratitude.

Instead, their thinking became nonsense,

and their senseless minds were darkened.

Claiming to be wise,

they became fools

and exchanged the glory of the immortal God

for images resembling mortal man,

birds, four-footed animals, and reptiles.

Romans 1:22-23

Most of the time, I think we have a tendency to look at this scripture as a "them" verse. THOSE PEOPLE who don't love God think they're wise, but THEY are just foolish.

Or maybe, we're wise enough to see that it applies to us (because really, the first part of Romans is just there to show us we're ALL jacked up and need Jesus), but we still kind of skim over it.

Because we're not worshiping idols, right? No golden calves for us!

But then, as I looked at the Greek, one word stuck out to me: fools.

It's the word "moraino," and it's pronounced mo-RAH-ee-no...and obviously, it's where we get the word "moron."

Hehe...God called us morons, I thought.

And then I saw the other meaning of the word: to make flat and tasteless, of salt that has lost its strength and flavor.

OUCH. Can you feel that? The sword that is God's word cutting deep into your heart? I know I did.

This verse then BROKE OPEN for me, and it looked something like this:

They know Me, and they say they love Me,but they don't treat Me like they love Me,putting Me in my rightful place,and they certainly aren't grateful for all they've been given. No.Instead, their thoughts are clouded by a bunch of nonsense and are darkened.They have ceased being salt and light.They claim my wisdom, but they act no different than the people around them:hopeless, worrisome, grumbling, and lost.They have stopped seeing me, and instead,see only the idols they've set up for themselves:physical beauty, success, earthly comforts, and self-loathing.

And in that, I see me...or the me that HAS been. I am convicted, but also, set free!! I see how God has been working to change my perspective and I am so incredibly grateful.

There were certain areas of my life I had raised up as idols and certain areas I had just laid down in defeat.

But let me ask you something: can you physically lie down and walk at the same time? 

No. Not possible.

You cannot walk in the victory of Christ and lie down in defeat at the same time. It's just not possible.

How do you see yourself? Are you claiming the identity of a child of the living God, but also consider yourself:

• just a person with no self-control?
• just an alcoholic?
• just a worrywart?
• just an addict?
• just a failure?

You are "just" lying to yourself. You are "just" keeping yourself in chains that Jesus has already unlatched, and you're holding onto them for dear life.

And what does that say to the people around you? Do your words and actions reflect a close walk with Christ or your acceptance of defeat.

It cannot reflect both.

I'm not saying you need to be fake. I'm not saying you won't go through things, HARD things. But might I suggest, if you're constantly stuck in a place of defeat, you've chosen the wrong perspective. 

Like artists before the renaissance, we paint the pictures of our lives with skewed inaccurate perspectives, as though our lives are not enlightened by the light of Christ at all.

Instead of placing ourselves at the feet of God, and seeing only Him - His goodness, love, kindness, grace, mercy, and wisdom - we've placed ourselves on the throne, and we're looking only at the obstacles, discomforts, successes, and failures.

And if that's the case, if that's they place we're operating from, we're no different. We're saved, yes, but our lives are no different. They have no light, and our salt has lost its flavor...and we sit around wondering why the world is falling apart.

The world is no different because WE are no different.

But that's not what I'm claiming today for us, friends. NO.

Because we ARE children of the living God, and we DO have victory through Christ the Son, and we DO have the power of the Holy Spirit living inside of us.

And therefore, according to the riches of God's great love and mercy, I declare we will be empowered, not through ourselves, but through the Spirit of God that lives in us. I declare that we who love Christ would place Him on the throne of our hearts, and we would grow our strength in Him. (Ephesians 3:16-17, highly paraphrased).

I pray we choose a godly perspective in that, we trade being our own gods for seeing ourselves and our circumstances through the eyes of the One true God.

Because perspective is truly everything.

*https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/perspective

Metamorphosis

I have a secret for you.

Shhhhhh...come in really close so I can whisper. Closer.

Change is hard.

Actually, that's not a huge revelation, but at least I have your attention.

Change is hard. Anytime you're dealing with change, there's going to be difficulty, but transforming the way we think can be the most trying.

For though we live in the body, 

we do not wage war in an unspiritual way,

since the weapons of our warfare are not worldly,

but are powerful through God for the demolition of strongholds.

We demolish arguments and every high-minded thing

that is raised up against the knowledge of God,

taking every thought captive.

2 Corinthians 10:3-5

Recently, I wrote about a moment in a dressing room, and the resulting realization that I had given up hope of ever being at a semi-healthy weight. I was depending upon my own strength, forgetting that my God is El Gibbor, the Mighty Warrior. 

If I'll get out of His way, He will fight with me and for me, going before me in battle. In order to do this, though, I'm going to have to be transformed by the renewing of my mind, taking every thought captive.

God's word says our weapons of warfare are spiritual and powerful through God for the demolition of strongholds. I looked up the exact definition of stronghold:

1. a place that has been fortified so as to protect it from attack 

2. a place where a particular word or belief is strongly defended or upheld.

Throughout our lives, Satan and our own sinful natures have created strongholds in our minds: fortresses built with steel beams of intense hurt and the bricks of repetition. These are places where our beliefs about ourselves are strongly defended and upheld.

But if these beliefs are counter to God's word and His will for us, they must come down.

Winning wars is about demolishing strongholds again and again.

But how exactly do we take every thought captive? How do we know if it's against God's will? 

Through the transformation that comes from the renewal of our minds.

Therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God,

I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice

 holy and pleasing to God;

this is your spiritual worship.

Do not be conformed to this age,

but be transformed by the renewing of your mind,

so that you may discern what is the

good, pleasing and perfect will of God.

Romans 12:1-2

These are the verses I think about anytime I think about my body because it talks about presenting our bodies as living sacrifices. However, through study and a lot of prayer, God opened this verse up even more, and printed it in a brand new way on my heart.

I was not only made BY God, I was made FOR God, and for His purposes. He wants me to lay my entire being - my love for food, my imperfections, my abusive mind - down at his feet. He wants me to give it to Him, so He can transform me, so HE can renew my mind and show me His will for me. He wants to demonstrate how, though His great compassion and mercy, He can provide, when I lay myself down as a sacrifice.

In the Greek, the word for transformed is metamorphoo (with a thing over the last o that I don't know how to type). It is where we get the word metamorphosis.

The Greek word for renewing is anakainosis, and it means renovation, a complete change for the better.

Metamorphosis into the women and men God wants us to become can only happen with a complete renovation of our minds - our thoughts, feelings, and desires - so that God's good, pleasing, and perfect desire for our lives can be discerned.

And renovation can't happen without demolition...the strongholds must come down.

A caterpillar has the makings of a butterfly within him in a drastically simplified form. He can eat and eat and eat, and grow and grow and grow. But he can't just change into a butterfly. He doesn't just sprout wings and begin to fly.

He has to be transformed.

Within the chrysalis, his body literally demolishes itself so that the old can be used to give life to the new. All the energy that was once used to sustain the caterpillar is now used to compound what was within all along. Only by doing this can he grow wings, emerge, and take flight.

Metamorphosis.

It's time, my friends. It's time to give it over to God, let him demolish and destroy the bad, so the energy that was formerly used to keep us crawling on the ground can be diverted into developing those things He placed in us so long ago. It's time to sprout wings, and eventually, we will fly.