The Church Sign Worked (And Thoughts on Worship)

For the past few years, my friend Kay and I have kept a look out for somewhat ridiculous church signs. Whenever we see a worthy sign, we send the text to one another and either shake our heads and/or laugh at the exchange. Such is the reason that I was paying attention to a church sign that read, “Taize Lent Service. Sunday at 7pm,” as I passed it on Saturday. Instead of sending Kay a ridiculous text, I filed away the information and thought to myself, “That church sign actually did what it was supposed to do. It drew me in.”

As I sat in the silence of the service last night—a service that I felt compelled to attend because of my soul’s hunger both for peace and quiet, sacred space—I felt tears forming in my eyes as they gazed upon a stained-glass window of Jesus with open arms. In those moments, I wanted nothing more than to walk toward those arms and feel them wrap around me in warm embrace. I wanted to say, “I’m sorry, Jesus. We’ve gotten it so wrong. We’ve messed it up so bad.” Not wanting to make any noise, though, I decided not to find a ladder, set it up, climb it, and attempt to embrace the stained-glass Jesus. Instead, I simply sat in the pew, hands postured to signal an opening, and whispered my words to God.

Contrary to many in my generation and generations younger, I don’t worship most fully and freely with loud rock-style music, projected words and images, and a master teacher seeking to teach me how to live. While I know that this style of worship is desired by many, I find myself desiring its opposite. I am surrounded by noise, chaos, movement, competition, information-bombardment, consumerism, experts, choices, and passing fads every day. My body and mind are saturated to overflowing with the fast-paced, “now” of modern American culture.

What my soul desires, therefore, is to slow down—to meet God in silence—to feel grounded to words and acts of worship that have carried God’s people for thousands of generations—to be challenged to encounter God in God’s mystery and fullness, though murky and mind-boggling they may be. So much of life has been stripped down to certainty and explanation. I need permission to let God be God and to let Christ’s words and actions speak for themselves as they come alive through the presence of the Holy Spirit today.

When I look at Jesus’ life, I see a man who surrounded himself with community—who upheld the faith traditions of his family and his historical people even while he transformed those traditions into life-giving reality for all of us. I see a man who, when weary from ministry, sought refuge from the crowds and went to a mountain to pray or a safe place to rest. I see a man who valued silence as much as noise, tears as much as power, and parable as much as check-lists of morality. This is the balance of worship that my soul needs. And this is the balance that I found last night after a very discouraging week of noise.

Church signs sometimes present somewhat ridiculous information. But thank you, God, for that simple church-sign invitation that drew me in.

Why I Choose Jesus

I choose you not just for raising Lazarus from the dead but for crying when he died.

I choose you not just for sending the rich man away but for leaving the door open for another chance.

I choose you not just for feeding the 5,000 but for having compassion on their needs.

I choose you not just for welcoming children but for once being a child yourself.

I choose you not just for speaking to and forgiving the woman at the well but for valuing the lives, work, and witness of women.

I choose you not just for calling Zacchaeus down from the tree but for seeing him in the tree in the first place.

I choose you not just for standing against hypocrisy and legalism but for eating with, communing with, laughing with, and valuing the outcast and those who believed they were unlovable.

I choose you not just for dying a cruel death but for living into, though sometimes struggling with, your call.

I choose you not just for teaching us to pray but for praying for us through agonizing tears.

I choose you not just for being fully God and fully human but for living your humanity in the context of community.

I choose you not just for speaking straightforward truth but for leaving us with story, parable, and thoughts that are sometimes hard to understand.

I choose you not just for breaking bread and drinking wine but for cursing the fig tree when you were hungry and it did not have fruit for you to eat.

I choose you not just for words but for silence.

I choose you not just for the sacrifice of your blood but for the breath of your creation.

I choose you not just for your death but for your life.

I choose you not just for eternity but for right now.

Jesus, I choose you not for judgment but for redemption.

I choose you not for showing up but for being all-present.

I choose you not for comfortable assurance but for hope.

Jesus, I choose you not for condemnation but for love.

I choose you not for condemnation but for love.

"Deep Awareness Of The Suffering Of Another Coupled With The Wish To Relieve It"

I believe that when we begin to understand compassion, then we begin to fully understand Jesus’ command to love God and to love our neighbor as our selves. When we begin to understand compassion, we begin to understand that God has called us to have compassion on people, not just circumstances, and when we have compassion on people then we want people to live as healthy, whole, free, God-loving, Christ-serving individuals. I believe that when we begin to understand compassion, then we stop seeing the world as us-against-them but instead as us—we—common humanity—created in God’s image and called good. And when we believe that each of us was created in God’s image and loved by God, then we begin to see all persons as those worthy of dignity and respect…and human exploitation does not treat people with dignity and respect. Therefore, we must stop it—not because we feel sorry for people—but because it is our call as compassionate followers of Christ.

Now…while I believe we should be compassionate toward people because they are people, I don’t believe that we all have to become involved in every cause known to humankind. I believe that God gives us passions and desires and that those passions and desires, coupled with life experience, guide us to where we can most effectively serve. For instance, in our office, we realized that the subject of human exploitation was too much for one person to tackle, so we broke up the areas into manageable chunks. One person focuses on sex trafficking; another on labor; another on bullying; another on pornography; and another on media and natural resource exploitation. It’s actually kind neat. When we asked everyone what they’d be most interested in working with, everyone chose something different based off of where they were in life, what they had experienced, and what they knew they could handle.

So today, some of you may be feeling an extreme amount of compassion toward people who have been bullied because you have been bullied. Some of you may feel compassion toward those who have a pornography addiction because you have one, too. Some of you may have extreme compassion for persons being hurt by land or media exploitation because you have felt the effects. And some of you may have compassion for persons involved in trafficking…because you understand the root issues and don’t ever want anyone to be held by force, fraud, or coercion. It’s okay if you’re not drawn to all of these issues. It’s okay if you’re not drawn to any! You could have extreme compassion for persons affected by poverty, those in prison, widows, the homeless, those suffering from mental illness…the list could go on. The thing is…we must do something about the compassion we feel because compassion without action is just empathy. And empathy may be fine for some things…but for others, we must act. We must act where we feel most passionate. We must act with passion. We must live with compassion.

What are some ways you can show compassion to those affected by human exploitation? Not ways you can feel sorry for people…or ways that you can feel good about helping people…but real, honest to goodness things that you can DO because you see persons as persons created in God’s image—because you want to do everything you can to redeem God’s creation and give people the chance to live wholly and freely in and with Christ?

[Blogger's Note: Two weeks ago today, I posted, “From Hyper-Functioning to Compassion.” Last Thursday, I posted, “Me and Valentine’s Day.” Both were excerpts from a talk that I gave to collegiate students on February 4th. My assignment for that talk was to talk about compassion (definition and biblical examples) and to tie it to my work with human exploitation. This excerpt was my attempt to put it all together.]

Me and Valentine's Day

I didn’t realize how much I disliked myself until my world began to unravel around Valentine’s Day 2007. I remember the date because Valentine’s Day is supposed to be a time of joy, but for me it was the beginning of a long period of darkness. Along with the depression that had been lurking for years, feelings of intense self-hate, -doubt, and -insecurity had been lingering for quite some time, but I had stuffed them deep inside and tried to cover them with work and relationships. I knew that something was wrong when I had to begin taking blood pressure medicine at age 25, but even then, though I was able to restructure some of my work habits, I didn’t stop to consider the deeper issues of why I felt the need to work so hard. The bottom line? I was ashamed of myself; therefore, I tried to hide myself by focusing on what I could do instead of who I was.

I grew up in Smalltown, USA, the youngest daughter of the preacher of the most prominent church in town. I lived in a fish bowl where all of my actions were watched, so I felt the need to be perfect. I saw how people talked about anyone who transgressed in any way and I heard how important it was to be holy, blameless, and pure. No one ever said it in so many words, yet I knew: being different and having my own thoughts was bad—it was wrong—hence I, as the good little preacher’s daughter, grew to believe that I had to do everything “right” lest I became bad and wrong as well.

I figured that if no one knew how I felt inside—that if I made perfect grades, was a leader at church, excelled in academics and music, demonstrated wisdom beyond my years—then no one would know that I felt bad and wrong. I would be accepted. I would be adequate. I would be celebrated and applauded and people would think that I was great. No one had to know that I was starving inside. No one had to know that I was miserable and desperate for companionship. No one had to know that I feared rejection and failure. No one had to know my real thoughts and beliefs.

And so I did my best to live, but I basically lived two lives—a public life and a private one. Over time, I got tired of hiding my thoughts and beliefs—which really weren’t bad, if you want to know the truth—and desired just to be me. And yet, I was afraid. I was afraid of being me. I carried such a deep sense of shame for being me that I felt bad and wrong. If anything bad happened to me, I deserved it. If anything good happened to me, it was just a fluke because…“if they only knew who I really was.” If only they knew, then they would reject me. They would think I was weird or radical. They might turn their backs on me or stab me in the back. They might not be able to see Jesus in me. If only they knew…

Around the time life began spinning out of control, I started counseling, and in counseling, I realized:

There is a disconnect between what I know to be true and what I actually live out in my life. I know that God loves me. I know that God wants me to love myself so that I can be most fully self and love people. But there’s just something inside of me that won’t allow me to fully love myself and fully embrace myself.

(struggling through tears) I am an authentic being…and a whole self. And I have to recognize what I’m feeling and how things affect me…and when I’m hurt and when I’m angry…and not always just try to feel for other people and try to make them better.



This struggle to love myself has been life-long, and it has been hard. It has led me to make many poor choices. My inability to love and have compassion for myself has caused me to question both God’s and humanity’s ability to and reason for loving me and it has profoundly affected my work and ministry—often causing me to work and act not out of a sense of call but out of a sense of the need to be wanted or needed. Yet, my inability to love myself, I believe, has given me a direct point of understanding between so much of humanity. I dare say that many people struggle to love and have compassion for themselves. Like me, they may not realize the struggle for what it is because it may lurk in the shadows of hyper-functioning. But I believe it’s there in the eyes of so many people—people who are running from themselves for whatever reason—for fear of rejection, hatred of sexuality, pain of abuse, grief of loss, heartache of confession, guilt of mistakes, yearning of acceptance, for uncertainty of call.

Somehow, in the midst of loathing myself, I developed a theology that believes that God created each one of us wonderfully and uniquely—that before we were born, God whispered into our ears who we were supposed to be and that it is our quest to live into that design while we are on this earth. I believe that the world (including parents, friends, schools, partners, and the church) tries to make us into its image but that our challenge is to live into the fullness of who God alone created us to be—just as Christ alone lived into the fullness of his being.

As a result of my journey, my desire in life is to support people on their journeys by helping them discover who they are and encouraging them to live into their gifts and passions. Just as my counselor created a safe place for me to be fully myself, I want to create a safe place for others to be fully themselves. I want to be a healthy presence at all times, in joy and in hardship, but especially when someone stops running from himself and/or God. In those moments, I want to show the love and grace and compassion that I know, now, are life-transforming. I want to hold a light in darkness, yet when light is too bright and my companion is unable to embrace its presence, I want to wait patiently until she can allow it to illuminate her life.

Valentine’s Day is marketed as a joyous day of love, but for five years, Valentine’s Season has been the marker of my spiral into darkness. Today, though, I am humbly proud to say that I can finally celebrate the Hallmark Season again without re-spiraling into darkness (I’m a Hallmark Platinum member, after all) and that I can celebrate life and love and live with the courage, strength, purpose, and compassion to help others build their lives on the Love that never fails. What an amazing journey of grace…

Finish Strong

Some people go to concerts to hear music and music only. Other people go to concerts to hear the music and the stories that go with the songs. I fall into the latter category.

Such is the reason that I thoroughly enjoyed Sara Groves’ concert on Saturday night. Not only did she sing, play, and make awesome music, but she also talked with the audience about the songs—the people and events that led her to write them—and in so doing opened her heart and soul to each of us there.

The first time I heard Sara Groves’ music was in my car going to and from work. Either my first or second year of teaching, I remember hearing this awesome song on the Christian music station and wondering who had written it. That song was “Conversations,” the title track of Sara Groves’ second album, and it led me to buy both of Sara’s CDs—which was all she had released at that point.

Through the years, I have purchased all of Sara’s ten albums. In their own way, each of the albums has influenced my life and theology—sometimes challenging me, sometimes comforting me, sometimes producing a song that parallels my faith journey so much that I wish I had written it. I have written three retreats based off of Sara’s work, purchased her CDs as gifts more times than once, and included at least one of her songs in almost every Mix Tape (yes I’m old), CD, or playlist that I’ve made since being introduced to her work.

So…to say that I was a little star struck when I had the chance to meet Sara Groves after a concert Saturday night is an understatement. While I knew she was a real person and that she was as genuine in person as she was on stage and in her recordings, I was still extremely shy about speaking to her. I was afraid that I would sound like a rambling buffoon and look like a staggering idiot when all I really wanted to do was tell her thank you for being authentic in expressing her faith journey and for sharing music that has helped me through many dark nights.

I’m pretty sure I sounded like a buffoon and looked like an idiot, but I accomplished my goal and told her thanks (along with lots of other extraneous talk that I could kick myself for spewing). She was kind and gracious—strikingly beautiful—and she kissed Stanley on his head without any prompting to do so. She signed my copy of “Add To The Beauty”—the album I chose to have autographed because of its message and my desire to add to the beauty of this world by loving this earth and the people in it—and she told me that she had written “It’s Going To Be Alright” for herself—for no one else—for her—because she needed to be reminded that things would soon be alright when they weren’t alright in that moment of her life.

After posing for a picture with Sara Groves and Stanley, I found the courage to ask Sara if I could hug her. She said, “Of course,” and hugged me…and didn’t pat my back…but held on in a strong embrace that I doubt I will ever forget. In that one moment, I felt the physical presence of words that have surrounded and upheld me on more occasions that I can count. I said to her, “Finish strong, Sara Groves. I have no doubt that you will.” And she said something like, “I will do my best. And you press on.” I said, “I will press on.” And then Stanley and I walked away singing “It’s gonna be alright…”

From Hyper-Functioning to Compassion

Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to teach college students about compassion. Five years in the making, what I shared in two one hour break-out sessions was information that has literally changed my life.

One of the key teachings and practices that have changed my life over the past few years is the teaching of self compassion. Self-compassion is extending compassion to one’s self in instances of perceived inadequacy, failure, or general suffering. There are three basic components to self-compassion: self-kindness, common humanity, and mindfulness:

Self-kindness: Being warm towards oneself when encountering pain and personal shortcomings rather than ignoring them or hurting oneself with self-criticism.

Common humanity: Recognizing that suffering and personal failure is part of the shared human experience. In short, you are not the only person who has ever felt what you are feeling. You are not alone.

Mindfulness: Taking a balanced approach to one's negative emotions so that feelings are neither suppressed nor exaggerated. Negative thoughts and emotions are observed with openness so that they are held in mindful awareness. Mindfulness is a non-judgmental, receptive mind state in which individuals observe their thoughts and feelings as they are, without trying to suppress or deny them. Conversely, mindfulness requires that one not be over-identified with mental or emotional phenomena, so that one suffers aversive reactions. This latter type of response involves narrowly focusing and ruminating on one's negative emotions.

Practicing self-compassion is a daily practice in my life, but it’s a practice that I know is part of an ever-deepening relationship with God and has allowed me to make great strides toward having a healthy view of and love for myself as one of God’s beloved creations. The following reflection more adequately speaks of this practice’s impact on my life and ministry:

The struggle to love myself as one of God’s beloved children has been life-long, and it has been hard. My natural inability to be patient with and have compassion for myself has caused me to question both God’s and humanity’s ability to and reason for loving me and it has profoundly affected my work and ministry—often causing me to work and act not out of a sense of call but out of a sense of the need to be wanted or needed. Yet, my inability to love myself, I believe, has given me a direct point of understanding between so much of humanity. I dare say that many people struggle to love and have compassion for themselves. Like me, they may not realize the struggle for what it is because it may lurk in the shadows of hyper-functioning. But I believe it’s there in the eyes of so many people—people who are running from themselves for whatever reason—for fear of rejection, hatred of sexuality, pain of abuse, grief of loss, heartache of confession, guilt of mistakes, yearning of acceptance, for uncertainty of call.

Somehow, in the midst of my darkest period of loathing myself, I developed a theology that believes that God created each one of us wonderfully and uniquely—that before we were born, God whispered into our ears who we were supposed to be and that it is our quest to live into that design while we are on this earth. I believe that the world (including parents, friends, schools, partners, and the church) tries to make us into its image—however lovely that image might be—but that our challenge is to live into the fullness of who God alone created us to be—just as Christ alone lived into the fullness of his being.

As a result of my journey, my deepest desire in life is to support people on their journeys by helping them discover who they are and encouraging them to live into their gifts and passions. Just as my counselor once created a safe place for me to be fully myself, I want to create a safe place for others to be fully themselves. I want to be a healthy presence at all times, in joy and in hardship, but especially when someone stops running from herself and/or God. In those moments, I want to show the love and grace and compassion that I know are life-transforming. I want to hold a light in darkness, yet when light is too bright and my companion is unable to embrace its presence, I want to wait patiently until she can allow it to illuminate her life. I know that I cannot magically save someone who is hurting. But I can be a child of grace, and I can only love other people until, and regardless of if ever, they learn to have Compassion for themselves.

What is one of the most profound and life-changing teachings and practices of your faith? What are some ways you experience self-compassion? And what is your deepest desire in this life?

Deanna Plant and Spirit Waterer Asks For Help

Today I became the official plant waterer of the office. Despite my historically non-green thumb, I’m excited about this new responsibility and the learning possibilities it holds. For instance, did you know that ever so often, you should remove your lucky bamboo plant from its pot, straighten out the roots, wash them, and give them a root cut (just like you would give yourself a haircut)? And did you know that you must do this lest the lucky bamboo roots strangle one another and kill each other off, causing the lucky bamboo plant to yellow and die? I learned this fascinating fact at the doctor’s office yesterday. I had to get some of my meds adjusted. In essence, I had to have my roots pruned so that my fears, worries, and anxieties would stop trying to strangle out my thoughts and emotions and kill my spirit…

As Office Plant Waterer, I will have to be diligent to tend to the livelihood of our office plants. I will need to schedule times for feeding, watering, pruning, and replanting when plants become too large for their pots.

As Deanna Spirit Waterer, I need to be diligent to tend to the livelihood of self. I need to schedule times for feeding, watering, thinking, reading, writing, counseling, music-making, forgiving, letting go, adjusting, moving, and changing when life becomes too uncomfortable where it is…

While my thumb has been non-green in the past, I’m afraid that my whole being has been less green in taking care of my whole self. Five years ago this month, after a lifetime of unintentionally neglecting my spirit, I reached rock bottom and was forced to make a decision: ask for help or slowly suffocate. I chose help.

The decision to ask for help was surprisingly more difficult than it seems it would have been. I didn’t want to appear weak. I didn’t want the truth of non-perfection to be so obvious. I didn’t want the attention of not being okay. For, though my spirit was wasting away, my appearance didn’t show outward signs of danger like the green leaves turned brown on our plants.

Asking for help is not easy. It confirms human limitation, inability, ignorance, and/or brokenness and indicates that we are not as strong as we think we are. Yet I now believe that asking for help is the single most courageous thing that any person can do. It humbles us. It puts us on an equal playing field with those around us. It reminds us that we are but one piece of the world’s puzzle. And it allows us the opportunity not to give but to receive—and for some of us this reminder of balance is crucial.

Yesterday, I learned about lucky bamboo because Tuesday I asked for help again. Just as it was five years ago, asking for help was hard. I cried brave tears of embarrassment, stupidity, shame, and relief as I finally spoke of the anxiety that had been holding me hostage for too long. But soon, Deanna Plant and Spirit Waterer will put my lucky bamboo knowledge into practice with a calmness of spirit that has eluded me as of late. My lucky bamboo will then say thanks and encourage me to ask someone with excellent plant knowledge to coach me with the other plants. For, while failure is one of my biggest fears, the biggest failure of my life would be never asking for help. And, well, I do not want to fail. The plants need me. And my Spirit needs me too.