Dog

Jesus called her a dog.

The Syrophoenician mother in Mark 7

Was desperate for her daughter to be healed

So she went to Jesus and fell at his feet

And he called her a dog!

 

Scripture tells us that

Jesus hadn’t wanted anyone to know that he was in Gentile territory,

So maybe Jesus wanted a break.

But the mother didn’t give him one.

Instead, she begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter.

In response, Jesus did what absolutely no one expected.

He said, “Let the children (the Jews) be fed first.

For it is not fair to take the children’s food and

Throw it to the dogs (the Gentiles).”

He called her a dog.

 

Maybe Jesus was tired.

And grumpy.

And he had a tongue slip.

As a Jew, he’d probably heard racial slurs for the Gentiles

And had them floating around in his head

Like annoying song lyrics that we wish we could forget.

And in this moment,

Maybe one of those slurs slipped out of his mouth.

 

Don’t fret. I’m not doubting Jesus’s perfection.

On the contrary,

I think that Jesus was perfect because he was perfectly human and

Perfectly divine.

We all have days when we’re tired.

And grumpy.

And have tongue slips.

Because we’re human.

But what Jesus didn’t do that so many of us simple humans do

Was stay in that negative space.

Because the woman answered with deep humility by saying,

“Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs”

Jesus changed his mind and employed his full divinity to  

Heal her daughter.

Maybe Jesus realized that he had been quietly called out

And responded by doing the right thing.

 

I don’t know.

All that I know is that Jesus called the Syrophoenician woman a dog.

And that it’s strange.

Yet, somehow, I love him all the more.

 

Amen.

Les Mis and Mozzarella Sticks

 Yesterday morning, one of my friends went to Sheetz for biscuits.

“I didn’t know they had biscuits at Sheetz,” I said.

“Have you been to a Sheetz?” she replied.

“Yes. One time after going to see Les Mis with some friends.

We got mozzarella sticks and something else.

Why I remember that event with such details is beyond me,” I answered.

“Well. It’s basically like a fast food restaurant,” she stated.

And that was the end of the conversation.

 

But as I drove to get to lunch and thought about a litany of friends

As I passed various places along the way,

I realized that I am constantly thinking of and remembering

People who have impacted my life in some way.

Sometimes I pick up my phone and write.

Most of the time, I do not.

But I can pretty much guarantee that if we made memories together,

Then at least one of those memories is stored away in my brain

And will come back into consciousness

Whenever I see or experience something that reminds me of you.

For instance, every time I drive by a particular intersection,

I think of a friend with whom I had a conversation at that intersection while waiting for traffic to dissipate one day.

I drive by almost every day.

Or when I pass a local neighborhood sign, I think of a friend who lived there in high school.

Or when I pass CrossFit, I think of a friend who trains there.

Or when I hear “We Built This City on Rock ‘N Roll,” I think of a friend who loves the song.

Or when I go to Dollar Gentrald, I think of a friend whose grandmother named the store such, and I laugh.

Or when…

And the list could go on.

 

Sometimes, I imagine my prayer list as a post-movie credit reel.
I start from childhood and list everyone I can think of.

I continue this until I fall asleep or my brain wanders elsewhere.

 

It’s all the time,

Everywhere,

A constant reality,

I think of people,

I think of you,

And I offer the thoughts as prayers when I do.

 

May we be a connected people,

In thought and in action,

And may we hold one another in light and love,

Each time we remember going to see Les Mis and eating mozzarella sticks.

Amen.  

The World When Jesus Was Alive

And I keep having this one thought: There were Native American persons living, breathing, and tending the land that became the United States of America…while Jesus was living, breathing, and tending the souls of people across the world.

I can’t explain why. But this thought has hijacked my mind and it’s pretty much all I can think about this Advent season.

It fascinates me.

It puts new perspective on the Great Commission—on the call to go into all the world and share the gospel of Jesus Christ.

What WAS all the world in the disciple’s minds? Jesus never went beyond 200 miles from home. We know from Paul’s journeys that people knew about Rome…and we know from other stories that Ethiopia and Egypt were on the map…so we can guess that there was a general understanding of European, Asian, and African lands. But just how much of the rest of the world was even imagined when Jesus was alive? Australia? South America? North America?

And to think that persons on those continents had NO IDEA that a man named Jesus existed…and yet, now, all these years later, Jesus is known around the world…one man, one young life, one sacrifice, known by most of humankind.

It blows my mind.

What is something that has blown your mind recently? What is something that you’ve learned? What is something on your mind today? I’d love to hear.

This Is The Educational Me

Well, folks. If for some odd reason you’ve ever wondered about the educational beliefs that drive me, wonder no more. Here they are...

But before I post, I must say this: I’ve spent a lot of time over the past couple of weeks hammering out this “Leadership Framework.” I completed the assignment for a graduate school class, but I found myself struggling to focus solely on my work in the schools because church life is so important to me. In fact, Christian Education was my focus during my years in divinity school. And that’s where the tension lies. When I was in divinity school, I struggled to focus solely on my work in church because school life is so important to me. In both graduate degree programs, I have found my heart split...and trying to apply my learning to more than just what the courses are supposed to prepare me for.

Several people have asked me recently what I plan to do when I finish my current graduate degree. I find myself honestly responding, “I have no idea. I know I’m supposed to be doing the program, but I have no idea what I’m going to do with the degree.” And I don’t. But I’m hashing out my passions and beliefs and praying that God will reveal the way. I’m not overly concerned. But I am glad to be finished with this assignment :-).

Philosophy of Education
I believe that education begins when we are born and ends when we die. Whether the learning is ours or the persons’ around us, and whether it is mental, physical, spiritual, or emotional, education is what happens each time we are exposed to something new and forced to do something with or about it. I believe that education is a process. It is continuous. It does not always begin and end with concept introduction, rather it is more often grown with time, intention, and experience. Education is formal in schools and churches. Education is informal in homes and relationships. I believe that education is trying, falling down, getting up, and trying again. Education is learning to walk and then acquiring the stamina to use the skill for good.

Philosophy of Leadership
I believe that leadership is the person or group of persons who lead whatever or whomever is being led. I believe that strong leadership is the person or persons willing to lead by humble, active example. I believe that leaders should lead with purpose and integrity, out of a sense of personal calling, and that leadership’s purpose should not be personal gain but organizational, group, and individual progress. I believe that strong leadership fosters success through relevant feedback, timely encouragement, wise decisions, difficult conversations, and a growth mindset for both itself and those being led. As a result, strong leadership creates thriving, healthy, positive, and growing organizations, groups, or individuals.

Vision for Learners
Learners learn in a variety of ways (musical-rhythmic, visual-spatial, verbal-linguistic, logical-mathematical, bodily-kinesthetic, interpersonal, intrapersonal, naturalistic, and existential) and at varying speeds and will be given the time, space, and opportunity to do so. Furthermore, learners will gain relevant, practical skills and knowledge to help them live as healthy individuals who make positive contributions to society.

Vision for Teachers
Teachers are experts in educational and developmental theory, practice, and learning. Life-long learners themselves, teachers will be knowledgeable of their content area and how to relate it to learners’ lives. Teachers will enjoy working with students and peers and be both leaders and team players as needed to foster a positive, safe, and healthy learning environment.

Vision for the Organization
The educational organization makes formal education possible. The educational organization will:
• Provide not only a safe, well-maintained building and recreational space but also a safe, orderly learning environment;
• Seek to be sustainable and environmentally responsible whenever possible;
• Supply both the technological and non-technological tools needed for learning and make those tools available and accessible to students and teachers alike;
• Create a positive organizational culture and climate by planning and investing in ongoing community partnerships and promoting healthy lifestyles by providing physical and emotional support systems for students, parents, and teachers;
• Center all actions and activities on shared goals and values;
• Celebrate accomplishments both big and small.

Vision for the Professional Growth
Professional growth is the cornerstone for professional success. Professional growth will:
• Be ongoing and provide opportunities not only for strengthening content knowledge and work effectiveness but also for strengthening self-awareness and intra- and inter-personal communication and understanding;
• Be relevant and meaningful and lead to proactive change in thought and/or action;
• Be a combination of what all stakeholders need to know to be on the same page and what individual stakeholders desire to know to be stronger and more effective in areas identified as strengths and/or weaknesses;
• Occur in the regular work environment and at special trainings.

Method of Vision Attainment
Attaining any vision or goal takes time, determination, focus, and patience. Vision attainment is a journey filled with ups and downs, successes and failures, bumps and bruises, efficient pathways and unexpected detours, and long hours of listening and allowing others to help navigate and lead. I plan to attain my visions by bunkering down for the journey, enjoying the ride with whomever I meet along the way, and doing everything I can to leave the wake of my path better than it was before I walked it.

From A Tired Brain

Traffic jam of thought
So much to say yet nothing
Words at a stand-still

And that’s all I’ve got. Except for this:

I’ve got good people
Strong, resilient, determined
Diverse, beautiful

Land of Plenty

We live in a land of plenty. If one ever doubts this fact, then all she has to do is turn on HGTV and watch its programming for a couple of hours. Granted, our plenty is not equally distributed and too many of us take for granted the backs on which our plenty stands, but that is a note for another night.

A few weeks ago, during my Saturday Sabbath, my mom and I stumbled onto a Tiny House Marathon. Ever since that day, I’ve been turning on HGTV to try to find another Tiny House Marathon. In the process, I’ve found myself watching a plethora of different shows—and talking to the TV quite a bit, almost always making the wrong decision when given a choice between house 1, 2, or 3.

Last night during a few of the rare moments that I’ve been awake this Memorial Day Weekend—I’ve been trying to beat a chest cold that settled in at the end of last week—I found myself watching a beachfront property show where the couple was looking for a new home for their family. The husband and wife were both lawyers and their budget was between two and three million dollars. Yes, million. When talking about their children, the couple said that the kids were, “energetic, especially the boy.” When interacting with the kids, the couple was very awkward. And when talking about how happy they were with their new home, the couple was playing tennis, marveling about how much less stress they feel with their new life, and how happy they are to have made the move—and their children were nowhere to be seen.

Evidently, this show bothered me so much that I dreamed about it. In my dream, I met the nanny who quite clearly was the person raising the children and said, “I knew it. I knew that they had a nanny. I knew that they were hands-off parents and that those segments were staged.” In my dream, too, the boy was identified autistic, which I would wager money that he, in real life, should be but that he will not be because his parents will not want the diagnosis.

I know. I’m sounding very judgmental and investing a lot of emotional energy into something far beyond my reality. But I can’t seem to get it off my mind. Maybe I’m jealous of the money and properties and wishing that I could have three million dollars to invest in a tropical island home. But I don’t think that’s it. I think I’m bothered by how expendable the children seemed in that segment—and in other segments as well. Today, for instance, a couple opted to spend their “nanny budget” on a beachfront property and to push back their efficiency date of having a child exactly one year and nine months.

Another thing I’ve been quietly reflecting on is the fact that no one—on any of the shows that I’ve seen—ever—has spoken about finding a home—huge or tiny—permanent or vacation—that is close to any kind of place of worship. Space for entertaining, amazing views, making the most of life, de-stressing, being within walking distance of shops and bars, granite countertops and open floor plans, living environmentally friends—I’ve heard a lot about those. But having somewhere to do yoga is the closest I’ve come to hearing anything about faith—and this may have had less to do with faith and spirituality and more to do with flexibility and good health. Maybe it’s a network editing rule. I don’t know. But faith and faith communities seem a non-priority on these shows. And this, too, bothers me.

We live in a land of plenty. We have so very, very much. Even our tiny houses are bigger and nicer than many homes around the world. Yet when our plenty causes us to lose site of our children and to live life to our present fullest with little to no thought of leaving the world a better place, is our plenty worth it?

Dear God, we come to you tonight aware of the many good things that life has given—and the many people who have died to make these good things possible. Help us to turn our plenty into so much more than we can imagine and to devote our lives—our time, devotion, talents, and resources—not just to living our lives to the fullest but to helping others live their lives to the fullest as well. Children, teenagers, adults. Body, soul, mind, spirit, and strength.--Amen.

If I Were Independently Wealthy

Yesterday during Nana Camp 2015’s afternoon of water games—after the sprinkler, water pistols, and water balloons—my across-the-street neighbor came over and asked if the kids and I wanted to go swimming in their pool. Naturally, we accepted the invitation.

As the kids swam and floated and played water-basketball, I talked with my neighbors and discussed life and ministry and how there are usually lots of people at their house. My neighbors commented that when they built the pool, they built it so that people would use it. They wanted their blessings to bless others. I commented that if I had a pool, then I would want the same.

Yesterday’s conversation caused my “What would I do if I were independently wealthy?” dream-list to resurface. I’m not even 100% sure that having a pool is on that list, yet if it were then I would definitely invite friends, family, and church members to use the pool frequently.

Here are the things that are definitely on my “What would I do if I were independently wealthy” list. There are others on the maybe list:

• Purchase a beach house (ocean-side), mountain house (next to a stream or waterfall), and lake house (lake-side) to be used as a retreat for ministers and their families, church women’s groups, and small-group school faculty/staff retreats when my family and friends aren’t using it. Include hot tubs, hammocks, swings, rocking chairs, rafts, kayaks, paddle boards, noodles, and all other necessary retreat equipment. Also include living space for permanent caretakers to tend the properties.

• Retire. Continue working part-time at a church or some type of ministry organization and volunteer as a chaplain in the public schools. I have no idea how the latter would happen; I have found no precedent for it. But it is my heart and passion, and I would do it in a heartbeat if I didn’t have to worry about “making a living.” I would most likely do more units of CPE or a residency while making this happen.

• Do something for my family members. I haven’t decided exactly what. Open savings accounts, travel, go on more cruises, pay off cars, homes, and/or college bills are ideas that I have thrown around.

• Visit major zoos and conservation centers around the world. Guests are encouraged and welcomed.

• Establish a scholarship fund. Or two. Or three. Or five.

• Give. A lot.

What about you, friends? What things are on your “What would I do if I were independently wealthy?” list. It may not ever happen, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to dream…and then go swimming.

A Bad Feeling

Going back to work today wasn’t too bad. Tomorrow will likely be more difficult because I’ll have less adrenaline. But today was okay…except that I carried an underlying sense of anxiety all day—because of the book that I’m reading.

I’ve read the book before—a clearance book from the Books-A-Million in Columbia—but I don’t remember anything about it. The basic plot is of a twenty-something going home for her brother’s wedding, only her brother is uncertain as to whether or not he should go through with the wedding because he has fallen in love with another woman. He must figure out what to do and she must face her past.

The book is fine. Decently written. Decently read. But I’ve been so worried about the fiancé that I’ve been anxious for the entire four hours that I’ve been reading (with my ears)—and evidently in the hours when I’ve not been listening in my car—that I haven’t really been able to enjoy it.

The writer doesn’t share the fiancé’s point of view. The only things we know about her come from the narrator’s perspective. So we don’t know what she’s thinking—how she’s feeling—if she has any clue that her wedding is likely going to be cancelled and that a ten year relationship is likely going to end—or if she’s going to have a huge bomb dropped on her. Regardless, she’s in a really bad situation…and no matter what happens, she’s going to be really hurt. She’s either going to be marrying a man who loves another woman or she’s going to be forced to walk away from the man she thought she’d be with forever—and neither are really fair to her—nor are the lies she’s been told—or the information that’s been kept secret—or the choices that have not been given to her to make.

I know. You may be thinking. This is a fictional character, Rev. Dee. But is it really? Isn’t this the story of so many people? Maybe not the possibility of a cancelled wedding on the wedding weekend—although I know that that happens more often than any of us want to admit—but the unfairness, the lies and half-truths, the secret information, the choices not offered, the imbalance of power, the not-knowing how to have a really difficult conversation. Might this be your story, too?

I remember struggling with similar thoughts as I walked up and down the halls of the hospital where I served as chaplain. On so many occasions, I felt horrible knowing that I knew difficult information that families did not know—yet I couldn’t say a word. I held an unfair power advantage in the situation—and sometimes I had to have conversations with people, trying to remain present and non-anxious, knowing that their loved-one was dying—knowing that their hearts were going to break momentarily—when all information was made known. I hated the knowing. And I hated imagining how I’d feel if I were on the other side of myself.

So I guess that’s what this book has done to me—made me imagine how it would feel to be the fiancé unknowingly waiting for life-changing information to be shared with her—and it’s a bad feeling. The blind ignorance. The shock. The feeling of being second-best—of somehow not being good enough. It’s just…a bad feeling.

So for everyone who may be remembering and/or feeling any of those feelings tonight—
For whatever reason—
I offer prayers for peace and comfort right now.
And for everyone who is in any type of relationship—
For however long—
I offer prayers for honesty and respect;
for ears to hear and hearts to listen; and
for healthy wisdom and endurance to do the hard work of love—
wherever that work may lead.
Amen.

Don't You Remember?

In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the [angels] said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ ” Then they remembered his words.

“Do not fear,” is the phrase that the angels usually spoke to those whom they visited. But as Patrick pointed out at the sunrise service yesterday morning, “Do not fear,” is not what Mary and her friends heard when they arrived at the tomb on Easter morning. Instead, they almost received a reprimand—“Don’t you remember?” they said. “Don’t you remember that Jesus told you that he would be killed but that in three days he would rise again? Don’t you remember that he told you not to fear—not to worry? Don’t you remember that today is the third day? Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember?”

“Of course they didn’t remember,” I said to myself as Patrick finished asking those questions. “Of course they didn’t remember.”

I didn’t remember that a student had promised to bring me a sandwich until he pulled the sandwich out of his book-bag the next day.

On Thursday, I had a sandwich conversation with one of my 4th graders. I have no idea why we were talking about sandwiches, but he asked what I liked on my sandwiches. I said, “Not onions.” He said, “Do you like ham?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “Do you like cheese?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “Then I’ll make you a ham and cheese sandwich.” I said, “Okay!”

Then I thought nothing more of the conversation. I even forgot that we’d had it…until the next morning when he said, “Oh! I have your sandwich for you.” Then I remembered.

Figuring that he’d pull out a squished sandwich in a sandwich bag, I had to fight back tears when he pulled out a full lunch box. “I packed a little dessert for you, too. And a napkin. And a bottle of water. And I put one of those little lemonade packets in there so that you can mix it with the water and have lemonade.”

Did I say that I was fighting back tears?

I’ve told this story quite a few times since Friday. I even announced the student’s kindness on the morning announcements that day. Yet if I had remembered the student’s words from the day before, then I wouldn’t have been so surprised…not that being surprised is a bad thing…but…

If I couldn’t remember a simple sandwich promise from the day before, then of course Mary and her friends didn’t remember Jesus’ promise of resurrection from weeks before.

And if I can be moved to tears and be led to share a simple sandwich story with the world, then how much more should I not be moved to tears and led to share the amazing story of life that comes through Jesus Christ.

Jesus is risen. He is risen indeed.

And I bet he’d bring each of us a sandwich.

Making A Difference

Making A Difference…3.12.15

Tuesday night in counseling, Joe asked me why I do the work that I do. I thought for a moment and then said, "This is going to sound so stereotypical, but I guess it’s because I want to make a difference."

I then went on to say that I often doubt how much of a difference I am really making as an elementary music teacher. I said, "I know I can love the kids while I have them, but then they go to middle school and high school and have so much to deal with, and, really, how much is elementary music going to influence those?"

Joe said, "If I'd have had an elementary music teacher like you, then I probably wouldn't carry the scar that I carry. My music teacher's name was Mr. C and he used to throw chalk at us when we played our notes wrong. I was afraid of him. He made a mark on me--a lasting impression--something that I've had to undo. If I'd have had a teacher like you, then that wouldn't have happened."

I said, "So I can have a positive influence on someone by not doing something negative? I've never thought about it like that."

I've been thinking about it for the past couple of days. Making a positive difference by not doing something negative. Doing something good by not doing something bad. Offering a safe space to grow that isn't necessarily memorable but that is real--that holds kids as they grow and allows them to grow even if they don't remember the growing--that doesn't cut them down or stifle them in any way.

My best friend once asked me if I remembered learning to read. I said no. She said, "Me either. We must not have had trouble learning to read. I remember learning math because I struggled with it. But I never struggled with reading. It's just something I learned to do."

Maybe that's what making a difference looks like for me. Providing experiences for kids to learn even when they don't remember the learning. Providing time for kids to be kids even when they don't look back on their lives and remember me or elementary music.

I guess part of me has always wanted to be that teacher that people look back and say was their favorite. There's pride for you. But I guess maybe that's not what it's about. I guess maybe making a difference doesn't mean being remembered but providing love that helps a kid get through the day...moment by moment...step by step…until they meet other people who will do the same. I guess maybe making a difference is walking a kid to the front of the breakfast line when he is in tears and all he can say is, “I’m just so hungry,” because the last meal he had was school lunch the day before.

Don't get me wrong. I know that for some kids elementary music is very influential. Some of my former students have gone on to have careers in music and others remember specific experiences they had in class.

But for most--for the thousands rather than the handful--my class will just be part of their existence. Likely not identifiably life-changing. Which, I'm learning to believe, is okay.

God knows that I know how difficult it is to undo the wrongs done to us in the past. Maybe you know of those difficulties, too? So I will seek not to wrong my students--not to tell them that they cannot sing or play or make music--no matter how bad they are--not to scar them--not to leave them with anything they must undo in the future...and leave them only with love.

We've been singing, "When I Survey The Wondrous Cross" at church during lent. One of the lyrics that's been going through my mind all week is, "Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my God. All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood...Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."

It sounds so simple here. Love: amazing, divine. Love: my soul, my life, my all.

Love: really is what makes a difference.
And what I want to do.
Day in and day out.
Quiet. Steady. Stubborn. Positive. True…

Those Darn Doors

A few months ago, I wrote these words:

Sometimes, dear friends,
when everything seems
frustratingly hopeless,
maybe we are wrong.
Not deliberately or intentionally
or even stubbornly.
But narrowly and exhaustingly.
So sometimes, dear friends,
maybe we need to step back and
reexamine things with
a fresh set of eyes and ears.

I followed these words by the lyrics of this song:

So many thoughts inside my mind
So many doubts inside my heart
I want to believe
But I don't understand your plan
I ask but it's not given to me
I seek but I do not find
The answer that I'm looking for
Must be behind the closed door
With my heart's desire
But maybe I'm wrong
Maybe I'm looking at the wrong door
Maybe I'm wrong
Maybe your will is not mine

Today on my way home, I found myself singing this song. I found myself wondering:

When are closed doors truly closed doors?
When is having a door slammed in one’s face a sign that one needs to move on?
When are closed doors obstacles that need to be opened and walked through?
When is having a door slammed in one’s face the pushback of doing something right?

I tend to be someone who faces life like this:

Cut off my ear, throw it away.
Then
Stab me in the heart and rip out its broken pieces.
Regret your words, eat them, drink them
Hate that you opened the door so
Slam it in my face.
Cut, throw, stab, rip, regret, hate, slam
The door
in my face.
It’s brown, wood.
I’m looking at it while waiting
wounded
For you to open it back up and do it again.
Cut off my other ear.

But is this right? Is this seventy times seven? Or is this not practical after both ears are gone?

Thinking. Thinking. I’m doing some thinking…
And wondering about those darn doors.

What May Be A Defining Moment In The Making: Sunday Morning’s Visitor

Discerning the difference between defining moments and poignant moments has been interesting over the past few weeks. Honestly, I’ve wondered if I’ve gotten some the moments wrong, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter to anyone but me. So today’s moment—which is a story still in the making—could quite possibly be a defining moment for me…or it could just be a poignant moment. We’ll see as I sort through the thoughts and feelings that have been brewing ever since receiving the following text on Tuesday morning:

Oh, Deanna. I think our visitor from church on Sunday morning was arrested yesterday. Or if it wasn’t him, then it was his twin.

As I was finishing worship set-up for Sunday morning, I noticed a visitor coming into the church. The ushers greeted him and gave him a bulletin. He happily spoke back. Then he walked into the church, did the sign of the cross as he entered, and found a seat midway up the right side of the church. The couple in front of him welcomed him and engaged him in conversation. I went to say welcome and found myself quickly engaged in a conversation about whether or not Crocs hurt my feet. Mine do not; our visitor’s do. I pointed out our visitor to Patrick. Patrick greeted him as well. He seemed very happy to be with us on Sunday, observing everyone who walked by him, smiling at everyone who smiled back.

For the past many months, so much of what Patrick has preached has been about the importance of sharing the love of Christ with everyone—even, and maybe especially even, those who are different—those from the community—those who did not grow up in our faith culture. And our visitor was different. I knew by his sign of the cross. I knew by his ragged shirt and shorts. I knew by how he made little noises during the service. I knew by the plastic grocery bag in which he carried his stuff.

After the service, I asked our visitor if he needed a sturdier bag for his stuff. He said that would be great, especially since some other members of the church were taking him to the food pantry. I went to my car to get two of the reusable shopping bags that I keep in my trunk, then I set out to find him. He was walking toward the exit at the far end of the parking lot when I spotted him again. I walked as quickly as I could to catch up with him, and as I helped him put his, now, two plastic bags in the sturdier bags, he was so grateful. He asked my name. I told him. I asked his name. He told me. We shook hands. We parted ways. I stopped to talk to a church member who asked our visitor’s name. I’m pretty sure the church member offered him a ride home even though he said he lived just down the road.

I was standing in the rain the entire time.

So when I received my friend’s text on Tuesday morning, I was somewhat shocked. Our visitor from church on Sunday morning was arrested on Monday for felony hit and run. I later found out that he’s been arrested for before for driving under the influence.

Yesterday, another of my friends sent me a statement that she’d seen on a church sign: You never know what’s going on behind closed doors. I read the statement as one of skepticism and judgment. She read it as a call to pray for those around us because we don’t know what people are experiencing behind closed doors. I like her interpretation much, much better.

I told her the story of our visitor on Sunday morning. She said, “Oh wow. I think it’s touching that a man in desperate need of help was actually seeking it at church. Maybe he was seeking a shelter of love.” I agreed with her. And she agreed with me that our little church actually did what a church should do. And yet…our visitor was arrested for felony hit and run the next day.

Like I wrote at the beginning of this note, this story is still unfolding. I haven’t yet been able to name why it is affecting me so much. But it is. I keep thinking about it a lot—wondering if there was more we could have done for Russell—that’s our Sunday morning visitor’s name—if there is more we can do—if having an AA group in the church/community would be viable—wondering about the people walk into church completely broken—both visitors and members alike—wondering what is going on behind closed doors—behind the eyes that we see—and wondering how we can affect change when sometimes we are presented with just one moment.

This is going to sound ridiculous, but I find myself wanting to find Russell and give him a hug. I find myself wanting to know his story and what led to him to where he is. Addiction is a terrible monster. It is not something easily controlled and it is littered sometimes with more failure than success. But I believe it is possible to overcome. And somehow, more than anything this week, I want our Sunday morning visitor to know that it’s possible, too.

So was that text a defining moment in my my life? Will it somehow influence or change the course of my existence? I don’t know. But either way, it is sitting heavy with me now and is something that I likely will never forget.

Peter Warmed Himself

“What is your biggest regret?”

I had pondered this question before yesterday, but the impact of the question during Patrick’s sermon was greater than it had ever been yesterday morning. I found myself crying through most of the first service, naming, for the first time, a definitive answer to the question; feeling the full weight of my regret; realizing that, while I live in God’s grace and freedom, I have not figured out how to unlock the stifling cage of regret in which I have placed myself.

Peter figured it out, though.

Not mentioning the ups and downs of Peter’s actions during the majority of his time with Jesus,
Looking only at the final days of Jesus’ life:
Peter denied Christ three times.
Then he ate fish served to him by Jesus, walked with him, talked with him, confirmed his love for him and was confirmed in his love from him three times.
Then he boldly lived his life for and declared his faith in Jesus way more than three times…

“But Peter and John replied, “Which is right in God’s eyes: to listen to you, or to him? You be the judges! As for us, we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.” (Acts 4:19-20)

…

As Patrick read yesterday’s scripture passages, before my tears fully set in, I heard something that struck me as odd:

Peter followed [Jesus] at a distance, right into the courtyard of the high priest. There he sat with the guards and warmed himself at the fire…While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she looked closely at him.

Having never before noticed this warming detail, I found myself wondering: Was it cold the night the Jesus was betrayed and on the day that he was crucified? I didn’t think it was because of Passover being in Spring.

But if it was cold, then praying in the garden, receiving lashes outside Pilot’s house, and hanging on the cross in the crossroads must have been that much harder for Jesus…and that’s hard to think about.

Yet if it was not, then why does the text make such a point of saying that Peter warmed himself?

…

Have you ever received shocking news? Had something profound happen that you didn’t expect? Have you ever felt that punch in the gut? Had that sickening, shivering, back-quivering feeling leave you uncertain of anyone or anything—and crazily, unnaturally cold?

If you have, then you know that someone asking you questions that you’re not ready to answer is not a welcome experience—and those questions can be as simple as what you want for supper.

There are times when one wants to be alone with his thoughts. There are moments when, even when surrounded by people, one wants not to be seen but to stand in the shadows with his own demons.

I’m thinking that Peter was having one of those nights.

And I wondering if maybe he wasn’t so much afraid of being arrested or so in fear of being associated with Jesus as he was just in really bad space—numb—wanting to be alone—annoyed by people’s questions—cold from the shock of Jesus’ betrayal, healing of Malchus’s ear, arrest, and pending trial—and then brought back to harsh, present reality by the third crow of the rooster—when he realized all too late what he had done.

…

I don’t know. This is just my wondering. And I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Except…

If Peter overcame his prison of regret—
regardless of what led to it—
passionately and joyfully jumped off of a boat to get to Jesus
(an act that probably left him to warm himself by a fire again),
and lived the rest of his life in
forward, bold freedom:

Then surely I can, too.

And so can you.

One Statement Three Ways

My dad is a very sentimental man. So when I came downstairs on Friday morning and found him crying at the kitchen table, I wasn’t surprised. He was doing his morning devotion and had just read something that deeply moved him. In typical dad fashion, he read aloud what had touched him and I listened in typical Deanna-to-Dad fashion—which meant that I continued making my breakfast and not appearing terribly interested in what he was reading but really taking in his every word and inwardly smiling at his impromptu theological discourse.

Something that he read that morning made its way into my mind and became the source of my own theological ponderings for the past week. Quite simply, he read, “I love you regardless of how well you are performing.”

Sarah Young, the writer, wrote this statement from the perspective of Jesus talking to the reader. She wanted her readers to know that they were loved regardless of their actions and that even though we are to strive to live holy lives we are not going to be disowned when we fall short. I get that. And it is a comforting thought and a wonderful message for the “recovering perfectionist” that is me. But it’s totally not what I heard when my dad read the statement on Friday morning.

What I heard was this:

If God loves me regardless of how well I’m performing and I am supposed to love with the love of God, then I, likewise, must be able to look at people in my life and say, “I love you regardless of how well you’re performing.”

I love you when you don’t act like I think you should act.
I love you when you don’t write when I think you should you should write.
I love you when you don’t show up when I think you should show up.
I love you when you forget about something that’s important to me.
I love you when you take your frustrations out on me or hurt me.
I love you when you need to take space from me.
I love you when you’re absolutely ridiculous and refuse to believe that I am right .

I don’t mean to put expectations on the people in my life. But I do. And I therefore accidently set myself up to feel resentment…

So all week I’ve been telling myself, “I love you regardless of how well you’re performing,” and all week I’ve found my heart opening toward content grace.

Then, yesterday, while listening to a book about Rwandan genocide and the atrocities that led countless people to question God’s presence in the killing of 1,000,000 people in just 100 days, I suddenly found myself flipping that statement on its head again by saying aloud to God, “I love you regardless of how well you’re performing.”

There is a lot about God that I do not understand. I don’t understand how or when God chooses to intervene in the natural world order and when God allows God’s created world—including human beings—to do its thing. I especially don’t understand why some people are miraculously healed while others are not—even when prayers for healing are being prayed by hundreds of people each day. Don’t get me wrong. I get that good can come from all things and that little sparks of light can be seen even in darkness. But that doesn’t mean that I always understand God…and yet…I can—and do—still love God…regardless of my understanding of God’s “performance.”

“I love you regardless of how well you’re performing.”

Thanks, Dad, for sharing this thought through your morning devotional tears. I know you weren’t really talking to me when you read this statement, but…I know you mean it...and...I love you, too.

Love Heals A Frozen Heart

Monday’s word of the day was ruminate. Ruminate is a verb that means: 1) to go over in the mind repeatedly and often casually or slowly or 2) to chew repeatedly for an extended period. I have been ruminating the movie Frozen ever since seeing it Sunday.

I don’t want to spoil the movie for those of you who haven’t seen it, so I’ll just say this: Sometimes we declare our truths before we’re able fully to embrace them.

Now…I have a feeling that I may be the only person in the world who has written this statement in response to this film, but I’ve spent a lot of time ruminating why Frozen didn’t immediately become my all-time favorite Disney movie and the above statement is why.

Case in point, I started learning a new life-vocabulary at the beginning of March 2007. This vocabulary eventually helped me reframe everything I’d ever known and literally changed my life and worldview.

On March 28, 2007, I wrote my own personal “power ballad” – my own statement of who I am regardless of who the world wants me to be.

Do I believe the words of this song? Absolutely.
But had I fully arrived at living its words? No.
In fact, there are still days when I have trouble living them.
Yet I know they needed to be said when they were said—
Truths declared before I was able fully to embrace them—
Because I know, now, that simply speaking these truths released them into being
And ultimately allowed Love to heal a frozen heart.

Whole
3/28/07

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing sheets of white—cold
Nature has been waiting for this yellow on my soul
Agonizing in the pains of death

Tender, warm, new buds they bloom and yellow floods my soul
Bitter, stale the old passes away
My throat is scratchy from the yellow on my soul
My words are hoarse from the dark night

But listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

Three short months extended into countless draining years
Deceiving lies leading astray
Destructive screaming from this world created chaos here
Whispers of the truth could not be heard

But listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

I’m not perfect—I will fail
But I believe in God’s grace
I am gifted and unique
I am worthy of God’s grace
I’m authentic—I’m okay
And I stand upon God’s grace
I’m on a journey—not alone
I’m a member of God’s grace

So listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

Yes, listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing broken sheets—whole…

Horse Breeding and Well Vodka

Did you know that there are people who make a living out of collecting semen samples from horses? And did you know that well vodka—or any well liquor for that matter—is the cheap liquor served at bars—often kept in a well near the bar and used in mixed drinks—rather than the more expensive kinds of liquor kept in bottles on shelves behind the bar—and that whatever the well liquor is can change depending on the bar tender’s choice? These are just two of the fascinating pieces of information that I garnered from my weekend in Charleston with my bowling team, “The Force.” [FYI. None of us knew what "well vodka" was when we saw it advertised on a sign that we drove by. So I suppose I should thank yahoo answers for enlightening us!]

If you followed the Stanley Chronicles and my other posts on Facebook over the weekend, then you followed a somewhat complete map of my weekend journey. What you could not follow, however, were the many interesting conversations, moments of laughter, odd high fives of triumph, noises of frustration...or the silent pep talks that I gave myself throughout the weekend.

By now, I think we all know that The Thinker tends to work overtime. This reality, coupled with my N-ness on the Myers Briggs Personality Type Indicator, means that even when I don’t try, I think and remember thoughts and moments that span the entirety of my life. Let me give you an example of my brain activity over the weekend in Charleston:

• At the first bowling alley, seeing a woman whose face I recognized: “We’ve bowled her before. She was helping at one our tournaments. We bowled beside her and she was really good and she intimidated me but she was really nice. I should go speak to her.” So I went and spoke to her and she hugged me and I hugged her and then she only bowled a 208. She was below her average for the day.
• Upon going to downtown Charleston: “Where’s the hotel that the youth group and I stayed in when we came on a mission trip to Charleston? Are they tearing it down? I wonder where the teams stay now. Do teams still come during the summer? We went to the beach and handed out water and I had to drive the church van and driving the church van in Charleston isn’t very fun because it’s so big and there’s a lot of traffic and narrow roads and finding parking was tricky. And we went on a horse and buggy ride and horse poop stinks and I’m afraid of horses.”
• While eating lunch at a little Italian place: “This looks like the Italian place that we ate at in NYC. That was the best Italian food I’ve ever had. That was a fun trip. I miss Angela.”
• While walking around downtown Charleston: “One of my best friends from childhood lives in Charleston. I wish I had her number. We used to sit at the piano and play ‘Up From The Grave He Arose.’ I really need to get her number into my phone.”
• While watching an “artist” perform as a human mannequin: “Rachel Elizabeth Dare was a gold human mannequin in one of the Percy Jackson books. I wonder if there are ghosts and spirits all around us but that we can’t see because of the mist.”
• While standing at The Battery looking at the water: “I wish I could go down and pick up the trash that I see. Human exploitation. Sigh. I went on a Harbor Tour with the women from FBC Erwin. We had a lot of good times down here—staying at the Isle of Palms—going on retreats together. I miss those retreats. And those women. But if I went on a Harbor Ride now I’d have to take motion sickness medicine. The first time I got motion sick was in the car going to Connecticut for Liz’s wedding and then we went to NYC where we had that good Italian food and saw Wicked. That’s such a good show. I’d like to see it again.”
• While walking back to the car: “I meant to visit Charleston with some of my friends. I hope I still get to do it. But I don’t know that I will since we’re not as close anymore. I know that growing apart is normal, but I still hate it. And missing people. Oh God, I miss so many people. But...you’re having fun now, Deanna. You’re with friends now. Laughing and having a good time and making new memories. Be present. Right here. Right now. Breathe...”
• While bowling on Sunday: “Relax. Just because you placed in the overall standings in the city tournament doesn’t mean that you’re going to do that here. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself. Just relax. Have fun. Do your best. It’s okay. You’re not a failure.”

And...that was just a sampling...and many of those thoughts included other memories and details and feelings that are too complicated to write down. What’s even more complicated is the reality that I often have all of these thoughts at once. Sometimes I catch myself thinking about thinking about thinking about what I’m thinking.

As I’ve watched the rain fall outside today and reflected on my weekend—which was really a lovely weekend—I’ve been reminded of a song that I wrote many years ago. I’ll close today with some of the lyrics to that song (which I’m pretty sure I’ve posted before) and the prayer that each of us—including me with my N-driven Thinker—will slow down and see what’s right in front of us rather than always looking behind or ahead or before...

Tomorrow is today in this crazy world I live
Yesterday rings on right now
One eye focused on the future,
One eye focused on the past
I’m blinded to this present life I live

Lord slow me down
And help me see clearly
What I need to see the morning I wake up
Lord slow me down
And help me hear the rain fall
Instead of looking for the sun to come up
Lord slow me down

Is It Really Like Falling In Love?

The other morning as I stumbled around my apartment in the zombie-like state into which I awaken almost every day, I caught myself singing along to the song on the radio.

When I first moved to Columbia, the radio at Mary’s house (where I first lived) was set to the Christian music station. Even though they play the same songs over and over again, I got used to the morning show and have listened to it ever since—subconsciously learning the words to a whole bunch of songs that I otherwise would not know.

So there I was singing, “It’s more like falling in love than something to believe in. More like losing my heart than giving my allegiance. Caught up, called out, come take a look at me now. It's like I'm falling, oh, It's like I'm falling in love,” when I suddenly thought, “Wait a minute. No it’s not. Let me listen to more words.” So I did. And I thought, “I don’t really agree with the words to this song…” but I kept singing anyway because the chorus is catchy.

I think the point of the song is that religion alone does not sustain us—that we must have a relationship with God in order to live a life devoted to God and God’s redemptive work through Christ—and I can agree with that point. We will fail religious doctrine—we will cross inappropriate lines, misuse words, break obligations, abandon creeds, and just flat out goof. If doing everything right by doing nothing wrong is our ultimate goal, then we’ll never achieve our goal. However, if feeling as if we’re in love with God and on an emotional and spiritual high all the time is our ultimate goal, then we’ll never achieve that goal either. God does move in powerful ways at various times in our lives, but mostly, I think, God is just quietly with us, day in and day out, guiding us and working with us as we seek to live into our understanding of who God has made us to be and how we can best share and live God’s message of love and redemption in this world.

There have been many times when I haven’t been able to feel God. I knew God was with me. I knew God loved me. But I couldn’t understand God. I couldn’t understand life. And I couldn’t feel anything other than the hurt and sadness that surrounded my heart. I don’t know about you, but if I don’t feel something when I’m falling in love—if I don’t understand it and coast on it in a state of elated bliss—then I think twice about how I’m falling. If, after long enough, I don’t feel anything in return, then I begin to walk away and toward another love. If, however, I believe in the love—if I believe in where it’s been and where it’s going and I’ve committed to seeing it through and there’s nothing fundamentally wrong or unhealthy about the love—then I will stay—because I believe in something more than the warm fuzzy feelings and elated laughter and tears of joy that I feel in that initial period of falling in love.

In those times when I can’t feel God, it’s not because I’m not trying. It’s not because my life is racked with sin. It’s not because I’m doing anything wrong. I pray. I read. I write. I keep seek. I try to stay grounded by Christian community. I ask for spiritual direction. I sit in silence. I talk to God all day, every day—sometimes even praying for characters in books I’m reading!—and I know that God is with me. I know that I am loved. But it’s not because of a feeling. It’s because of a quiet, gentle presence that is steadily living, moving, and breathing into my life… even when I cannot see or hear or feel or understand.

Yesterday, a friend of mine posted one simple word: Balance. I jokingly responded with the word: Beam. But in all actuality, I thought, “Yes. Balance. Balance is what we need so desperately in this world.” And balance is what we need in faith, too. Like I said, I agree that religion cannot sustain us. But I also believe that relationship based off of feeling alone cannot sustain us either…and I fear that too many of us are relying on our emotions these days—on our feelings—and that we’re doing the body of Christ damage to the body of Christ. As I finish my Cookie Mocha Frappuccino lite, I liken feeling-based relationship to living solely off of caffeine and sugar. It’s really good while it lasts…but what happens when it wears off? What happens is that we must keep eating vegetables and fruits and proteins to sustain us every day and allow Starbucks to be a special treat.

Chances are good that I’ll sing along the next time I hear, “It’s More Like Falling In Love.” Thanks to the Christian music station, the lyrics and melody are firmly planted in my mind. But chances are good, too, that I’ll think twice about what I’m singing and possibly even change the words to more accurately reflect my belief.

What about you? What do you believe? And have you heard a song lately that made you stop and question the words—Christian or not?

[What is Christian music anyway? If being a Christian means being a conscious follower of Christ, then how can music itself consciously choose to follow Christ since it doesn’t have a brain? Shouldn’t it be music written by Christians instead of Christian music? And can’t music written by Christians be music that doesn’t make it to the Christian radio station? And how did the radio station become Christian if it doesn’t have a brain? Isn’t it a radio station managed by Christians? Isn’t Christian a noun instead of an adjective? But that…that’s another note…thanks to another friend who posted a blog by Derek Webb :-).]

Homeless Hotspots and Other Things On My Mind Today

I joked with one of my friends this weekend that I’m often tired because I think so much and feel so deeply. For example. Here are the things that have been on my mind today, in addition to work and the never-ending to-do list:

Using homeless men and woman as wireless hotspots: Getting a decent data connection at SXSW (Annual music, film, and interactive conference and festival held in Austin, TX) can be a challenge, given that it attracts what may be the most data-hungry crowd in the world. With a project called Homeless Hotspots, a marketing company is helping out with this, while helping the homeless and promoting itself. Homeless people have been enlisted to roam the streets wearing T-shirts that say “I am a 4G hotspot.” Passersby can pay what they wish to get online via the 4G-to-Wi-Fi device that the person is carrying. It is a neat idea on a practical level, but also a little dystopian. When the infrastructure fails us… we turn human beings into infrastructure? — David Gallagher

Hormone modified corn and soybeans and big business running today’s economy and how consumer change takes a long time but how I’m slowly making changes in my life.

Community gardening and how I really want to be part of a community garden but have no knowledge of gardening and no place to plant one.

Bringing Herbert the Happy Plant back to life and feeling successful with that.

Getting new dirt for the office plants.

Learning how to repot things.

Being thrown off by the time change.

Commitment and divorce and when it’s okay to call it quits.

Boundaries. Forgiveness. And letting go.

Over-sexualized commercials and advertising for products that have nothing to do with sex. They make me mad.

Winning Scrabble.

Worth, value, fear of abandonment, and the purpose of life.

Those are just some of the things on my mind today.

What’s on yours?

Just Some Thursday Thoughts

Ever wondered what goes through my mind on an average day? Here’s a sampling. Feel free to comment at any time :-).

So much of ministry is being with people where they are--not doing what one feels is good or "right"...

I know we can't always put weight on what people say; however, when more than one or two people say the same things then I think we must stop and consider what truth might be in their words and consider how God can begin to work with us to mold and transform our rough edges into the smooth, polished ones they can be...

We tend to think in extremes. I often wonder what would happen if we did not. Maybe life is not a matter of being “bad” or "good” or "right" or "wrong." Maybe it’s a matter of being present in the journey. We tend to focus on outcome--output--getting from one place to the other--finishing our tasks—getting things done--DOING. What would happen if we instead took intentional steps to BEING? What if we started trying to enjoy the journey—the process—realizing that right can go to wrong and wrong go to right in the blink of an eye. Actually, right to one person can be wrong to another. So maybe we should think less about judging right and wrong, good and bad, and focus on experiencing what is—focus on doing our best to live in healthy relationship and community with God and the world around us...

When does positive self-esteem/self-identity turn to arrogance and pride?...

Yes, there are always things that can be grown and strengthened and refined in us—like our understanding of people and situations and actions and group dynamics—and the acceptance that we cannot single-handedly change the world or fix everything that's wrong—and the practice of remembering that we’re not the center of the universe—and the ability to rest in God. But I don’t think room to grow should be seen as despicable current reality...

When we mess up, I think it’s important to recognize and name that we’ve goofed and then ask ourselves the hard question of what we could do differently next time. I don’t think it’s important to harshly punish or blame ourselves or deem ourselves unworthy. Our time is better spent learning and moving on...

So much of being a leader is coaching. So much is modeling and guiding and letting people develop their own strengths and talents--not doing things for them. That’s really hard for those of us who are perfectionistic doers...

I’m thinking that life is just one big circle and that we're presented with the same types of situations over and over and over again--just in different forms. I think it’s been this way throughout all of humanity. If I’m not careful, then, I’ll start to wonder what’s the point of it all...

What does it mean to be "honest"? Is honesty telling the truth? And should it be spoken at all times, even if it will do no good and/or actually hurt the person hearing it? Are there times when omitting elements of truth is better than raw truth? Actually, what is truth? Is it absolute? Is it changeable? Does that make it opinion? What’s the difference between truth and opinion? Doesn’t it all come down to belief?...

I think that’s about it for now.
Well, those things and bowling.
I’m thinking that I hope I bowl average or above :-).

I Don't Want To Think

The other night, I told one of my friends that I didn’t want to think.

Her response? “Hahahahaha! You don’t want to think?!”

Yes, friends, it’s true: there are times when I don’t want to think.

It’s rare that those times actually occur—because I can turn even a pointless, silly movie or activity into something serious and life-impacting—because I have such vivid dreams that I wake up tired from working all night long—but there are times that I do, indeed, desire not to think.

Right now is one of those moments.

However, I’ve been working on a human exploitation presentation all day, and my mind is, unfortunately, so bombarded with thoughts that it can’t sort through any of them to make enough sense to write a profound note…much less to have a moment of non-thinking.

And so…I will soon leave the office to drive to a fall training event, head full of thoughts, body in a rental Mazda that has a key with a button to make the metal part pop out, and to-do list marked off: Deanna Note (done).

Writing every Monday and Thursday is both a blessing and a curse. Yet it is a discipline that I am glad to have started. And even though I’m not a man, or an elder, or an overseer, I find comfort in these words today…and a challenge to be so much more than I am:


Since an overseer manages God’s household, he must be blameless—not overbearing, not quick-tempered, not given to drunkenness, not violent, not pursuing dishonest gain. Rather, he must be hospitable, one who loves what is good, who is self-controlled, upright, holy and disciplined. He must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that he can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it. Titus 1:7-9