In The Name Of Love

The sun was asleep as the moon began to retire beneath the horizon at 5:15am. Streets were empty with the exception of a few cars at red lights. I yawned and thought about the dreaded workout I was about to face and mentally listed the things urging to be completed.

I was startled as I saw a Hispanic man in light colored jeans and a flannel work shirt sprint across the intersection as he held onto his baseball cap with his right hand held to his head. He waved his left arm wildly and yelled out words I couldn’t hear as I sat in my black leather seat with my car windows rolled up.

He chased his bus frantically trying to stop the driver from pulling away.

I watched the bus brake lights come on as the man in the flannel work shirt and light jeans jumped through the double doors. The light turned green and we each pulled away driving in opposite directions.

My mind flashed back to watching my dad chase his bus on mornings we made him late because of extra kisses, extra coffee sips, or extra stories. He trekked into downtown every morning to work for his family. A family who didn’t have a car. A family who didn’t own a home. A family who lived on hopes, dreams, and divine aspirations.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and silently prayed for the man who chased his bus. I prayed for his family who hopefully gave him extra kisses, extra coffee, and extra stories as he promised them a hope of a better life. I sat in my black leather seat with rolled up car windows and asked God to never let me forget.

God, never let me forget the moments when we held onto the belief that you were our faster than buses, sweeter than kisses, and more extraordinary than stories told by fathers. Amen.

When we fail…
When we faulter…
When we quit…
When we feel like we’re not enough…
When life is falling apart…
When we break down…
When we can’t fight another day…
When we utterly and completely fail…

…there are two words which provide the ability to go on: But God.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ— by grace you have been saved..     —Ephesians 2:4-5

Seated in a wooden desk in a dark room, we analyzed Renaissance masterpieces in Art History 350. Voluptuous women, passionate men, and biblical themes frozen in painted time depicted exaggerated themes of times long ago. Sucked into the the narrative of art, worlds ages removed came alive as my favorite professor explained iconography, spacial planes, and contrapposto.

She taught melodically and her voice lured in students much like a siren lures sailors. I wanted so desperately to please her and prove that I too loved what she loved.

When questions were asked, I was the first to answer. When readings were assigned, I didn’t sigh like the Philistines in the room. No, not me. I was ready to win her affection and garnish the crown of laurel much like the Roman-Greco athletes won in the art I copiously studied.

Each time she flashed a biblical art piece from her outdated slide projector onto the screen, I would be the one to explain the context. She knew I had a biblical upbringing because I could provide a wide context for the piece, so she let me casually discuss each work for a brief Biblical minute.

But one day in the dark room as we analyzed slides, she said something I’d never heard. And that is by huge problem with Paul the Apostle and Christianity, she said in a posh and educated New England accent. Jesus was a feminist, but Paul, oh no, he was misogynistic.

I didn’t know what misogynistic meant, so I remained quiet as she delivered a passionate Feminist sermon on the Biblical oppression of women. I left class confused, intrigued, unnerved, and questioning everything I had been taught in Sunday school.

During her office hours, I sheepishly asked her to explain what she meant in class. For the next two hours she and another female professor from the Art History department gave me a crash course in Feminism and the Bible. With each raised arm and unshaven armpit they brazenly bashed the New Testament and I—well, I sat there and listened.

I share this memory with you because we all have dealt with the topic of Feminism… and if you’re anything like me, I’m sure you were intrigued or unnerved. I won’t share the aftermath of this experience quite yet. I want to hear from YOU. Dialogue freely yet respectfully. Above all, let our filter be a Biblical one.

• Whether you’re a female or male, churched or unchurched, what are your thoughts on Feminism, neo-Feminism, or biblical Feminism?
• If you’re a man, in what ways do you like or dislike what the Feminist movement of the 1960s brought about?
• I’m researching some history and your insights are greatly appreciated

I don’t know how to ask for help.
I don’t know how to admit I can’t do things alone.
I don’t know how to say I’m better with you than without you.

I like keeping personal things behind a sheer veneer—you can see the outline of things, but not the full image. I’m very open with many aspects of my life, but certain things I like to remain private. My wedding is a sensitive topic because there are so many people we’d want to invite, yet for a number of reasons we cannot. So I don’t discuss it because I feel like I’m flashing my Willy Wonka golden ticket like Violet Beauregard while crewing gum and needed a spanking!

However, after an email exchange with a sweet blog reader who wrote out a prayer for me and the wedding, I realized I need to solicit prayer. But I don’t know how to ask for help. I don’t know how to admit I can’t do things alone. I don’t know how to say I’m better with you than without you. But I need to, I can’t, and I am.

With the current US divorce rate at a stunning 52%, I’m terrified I’ll fail at marriage. Fail at the mutual submission thing. Fail at respecting my mate. Fail at doing laundry. Fail at remembering to be a good wife. Fail at remembering to not let this kids play with toxic liquids under the sink. Yes, I’m just afraid of failing.

The veneer is stripped and I’m raw and unfinished. I’m shamelessly asking to please pray for me. If you’ve been a blog reader for a minute or a month, you’re part of this community… and I’m better with you than without you. Can I ask for the biggest favor from you? Can you please pray for the next nine days for our pending marriage? I’m including some prayer requests and hope you please think of me

• Pray Matthew loves me unconditionally [even if I don't know how to load the dishwasher or make espresso]
• Pray I lovingly respect my husband and give him the best of me
• Pray our wedding is a reflection of divine love and perfection
• Pray I take time out of the day to enjoy the small things like laughter and tears and nervousness and joy
• Pray I don’t sob like a baby while I recite my vows to the man I passionately love
• Pray for moments of divine favor from God as we commit our lives together until the day we die
• Pray for peace, harmony, and [for Matt's sake] punctuality
• Pray for finances to be met, bills to be paid, and debt-free living
• Pray our marriage to further the kingdom of God  and bring glory to His name
• And because I’m totally vain just like every other woman in America, pray I take Matt’s breath away when he see me!

Live in love…
B

Today I asked Matt if I could steal his blog post. He did a really good job of posting the essence of our relationship the past eight months, so I hope you don’t mind reading his perspective on the process of being one Enjoy!

We were sitting at the table, side by side, with our laptops open and it was a month into the wedding process at this point.  The discussion had been about who was going to do what.  Of course it was her day, so I did the best I could to surrender all opinions and control to her. But that didn’t work so well.

I tried to be helpful the best way I knew how. This included:

• An excel spreadsheet with addresses of all of our guests
• A comprehensive budget
• And a 72-point checklist and deadlines to prepare for the wedding

I literally thought I would win the Fiancé of the Year award!

So as I prepared to win the award, I started to design the spreadsheet.  I don’t know what she was working on (something about succulents I’m sure), but she was focused and intense.  I did the best to enter in all the information into the spreadsheet but there was some information only she had.

Occasionally I would have to ask for it.  Each time I did, I began to notice that she was becoming more and more irritated.  I wondered why she was so irritated as I was doing this amazing thing by putting together all the information for the guest list.  This continued for a little while until finally she stopped whatever it was she was doing and barked back with, “Why are you doing this?!”

I had never seen this look on Bianca’s face.  It was if Satan himself entered her body, created the nastiest, gnarled look possible and made her do it.  My jaw dropped—I had no idea what to say at this point but I am sure my response didn’t help the situation.

In our own minds we were setting priorities and planning out what we individually thought were the most important things.  She was annoyed that I wasn’t doing what she thought was important and I was hurt because my work wasn’t valued.  And vice versa.  We realized quickly we needed to learn to work better as a team or suffer satanic breakdowns in our pending future.

This brings me to another learning from the wedding planning process: surrender.  Not surrendering our rights, although biblically that is part of it, but realizing that alone we are good, but together we were great!

We both have learned to survive and thrive alone.  Not only that but we did it using different strengths.  But now we’re getting married and choosing to spend the rest of our lives together because of the greatness of what will happen when we become one.  She will make me a better person, leader and father.  But this comes with surrendering things that are good in order to become great.

The crazy ladies over at (in)courage are at it again! Free giveaways, tons of gifts, and loads of encouragement… I mean, incouragement For 30 days we are celebrating readers during our one-year anniversary of (in)courage! Bring out the cake and sprinkles, it’s time to party!

I’m posting over there as part of my monthly honor of being a contributor. Check it out, join the fun, and be (in)couraged!

Here’s a snippet. You can click on the link or simply click on the fancy schmancy button [those girls think of EVERYTHING!]

…when we can’t see the full scope of God’s work from beginning to end, He will make all things beautiful in His time.

Within the confines of church ministry, I’m young. The crown of grey hair and invisible badges of honor many tout after years of ministry pale in comparison to my four grey hairs and self-inflicted battle wounds. But I’m there. I’m serving. I’m doing my best to give back to God’s people the best way I know how.

However, sometimes we are let down and marred by the very ones we are trying to serve.

After six full years of leading in a particular ministry, I climbed into my car and sobbed after finishing up a midweek service. I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t make sense of my surroundings, and I most definitely shouldn’t have been driving.

On the 5 freeway at 10:32pm I cried because of betrayal. I cried because of sadness. I cried because I had given the very essence of my life to leaders and students and left with nothing more than shadows of affected lives and years of fruitless toil.

Then anger set in. I was angry with ministry. I was angry with God’s people and if there was a rock around, I would’ve beat it just like Moses did! But there wasn’t. So I struck my steering wheel repeatedly with my palm of my hand as I waited at a red light regretting the past six years.

But the balm of forgiveness heals wounds in a way time cannot. And ministry isn’t a means to fulfill your calling in life, but to glorify the Giver of Life.

I had a desire to see instantaneous fruit in the lives of those I served with and ministered to. I wanted a team of people who were smart like Paul, brave like David, and compassionate like Jesus. But we were more like the 12 disciples. A motley crew of marginalized people following a man who gave us real life. To expect perfection, miraculous interaction, and faultless living was futile.

The core of serving is to persevere in ministry even when the fruit is futile, the rewards are ransomed, and the work seemingly worthless. As Paul says, Stand firm! Let nothing move you. Always give yourself fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor is not in vain. Ministry is hard. But our labor is not in vain. Stand firm.

I had a super deep and theologically challenging blog planned for today. A blog about something serious… like sin or purgatory or immaculate conception or why worship leaders wear v-necks so deep I can see their chest hair.

Buuuuuut, I got word this morning on facebook that the music video we produced in Kenya is complete and rockin’ MTV Kenya at numero uno [that means number one for all the non-Spanish speakers out there]!

God used a 16 teens, 5 dancers, 2 music stars, and 1 producer to create a music video that would penetrate media in Kenya, the continent of Africa, and now the America. Ok, so we won’t be nominated for music video of the year at the MTV Awards show or anything, but it’s served it’s purpose and being used to glorify the Creator of All Things Rad.

Asante to all the beautiful Kenyan crew who made this video possible and thank you to all who supported in sending me to Africa

Benjamin Franklin said, I haven’t failed, I’ve had 10,000 ideas that didn’t work. Thomas Edison said, Of the 200 light bulbs that didn’t work, every failure told me something that I was able to incorporate into the next attempt. Theater director John Littlewood said, If we don’t get lost, we’ll never find a new route.

All of them understood that failures and false starts are a precondition of success.

I’m sure if we were to ask Moses, Abraham, and Jacob, they would say the same thing. Getting lost for 40 years in a desert? Total failure. Finding the Promise Land? Major success. Speaking with a stutter and being a murderer? Not the leader anyone would assume. Being the patriarch of a people in existence still today? Success in spite of multiple failures.

Failures and false starts are a precondition of success.

We are given divine room for error. Though failure is painful and disillusioning, we are truly blessed to see those who have failed miserably get back up and successfully fight. Those who let failure dictate ambition will never find the courage to press forward.

Press forward. Failures and false starts are a precondition of success.