I Would Have Been a Pharisee – Musings on Good Friday

When I imagine the picture of Jesus dying, I can’t help but believe I would have been a pharisee. I see him wounded and in pain, making effort after effort to breathe – literally suffocating – on the cross. And then I see myself to the side, mocking him and believing he got what he deserved. I see myself denying his identity, convinced in my heart he wasn’t the messiah. This may be a dismal portrait, but it definitely displays the human condition without Christ. If not for his grace, I would be a pharisee today. Reflecting on Passover and
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Patience and Temper Tantrums

Patience is like a bad visit to the dentist. Just hearing the word makes people cringe or roll their eyes. Here we go again, the same spiel about patience…we watch the minute hand on the clock move slowly, hoping it’s over quickly. Honestly, I’m even dreading typing this post. The problem with patience is it’s a heart issue. Or rather impatience stems from a heart of expectation, pride, and obsession. It’s easiest to see impatience in a toddler – A favorite toy disappears into a drawer or the bowl of oatmeal is empty more quickly than he’d like. This moment
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Compare to Despair

Have you ever given a friend advice or responded to complaints with words much later you wish you hadn’t used? While it’s certainly not the only time this has happened, one particular instance is stuck in my head. Even today, weeks later, I found myself sitting on the floor in the den, playing with Martin, still thinking of what I should have said and what I would go back and say if we shared the same conversation again. It wasn’t even a really important or life-changing moment, but my faulty advice has stayed with me and plagued me. My friend
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Gospel of God

I notice more and more the religion so many churches preach is the gospel of me. God loves me. God is all about me. God is committed to me. God creates his will and commands around me. God wants me to be happy. God wants me to be free. The risk in holding fast to these statements is that we forget the basics of who God is, himself. While God does love us, we tend to focus the gospel solely on ourselves, and somewhere along the line start to believe this idea – God exists to love and please me. While many of us
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2015 – The List

Since I posted my “Hopes for 2015” post, I’ve had at least three people ask me if I would be willing to post the whole list. Initially, I refused. It’s too personal. While I do put myself out there a lot on my blog, posting a list like this names things I hope will happen. What if they don’t, what happens? Will people think I’m a failure if I don’t succeed in all of my aspirations? Will I feel like naming them aloud, making them public, will change them from hopes to resolutions? These are the types of questions I
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Broken Words and Weeks

My words are spent. I am speechless and empty. At least that’s how I often feel. I’m realizing that in this season of life, I often have no words. I don’t mean words in the everyday kind of sense. I don’t have a hard time saying, “Please clean up your room,” or “How was your day?” I don’t have a hard time jabbering without really saying anything. I apologize if I’ve done that to you. I can’t think. I can’t write. I methodically put one foot in front of the other day by day. I have plenty of ideas, but
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Governed by the Memoir

I love a good memoir. They’re raw, funny, sad, and real-ish. I say real-ish because memoirs are given more creative liberty than autobiographies. No one actually remembers all of those conversations, and sometimes what we remember isn’t exactly what happened. However, memoirs are based on truth, or at least the truth according to the individual writing it or according to how the individual perceived it as truth. Sounds vague, right? But the thing I love about a memoir, not only me but we as Americans love, is that the memoir is the embodiment of experience. Here in America, we worship
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Let’s Be Honest – False Necessities

Every day, I feel as though I need a cup of coffee to survive. If I don’t have my cup of coffee, I have a pretty killer headache around lunchtime. I also pretty much compulsively check my Instagram feed daily. Sometimes, three times a day, but sometimes only once. I get really absorbed in reading a book, and I love either a dessert or a glass of wine after dinner (lately it’s been the glass of wine or some cheese). But these things won’t literally sustain me. They may make my day better, and I may rely on them for
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