I am known
for using strong words
like fuck
to carry my message.
And
I am known
for holding the Word
of God
in the highest esteem.
So
you should know
when I use the word
Jesus
to curse what is awful,
no,
I do not
take the Lord’s name in vain;
it is
the strongest word I know.
***
For the past two months, Lisa Colón DeLay has been hosting The Spiritual Guidance for Bloggers Series, and today it’s my honor to close out the event. But my post isn’t just for bloggers– it’s for everyone who’s ever wondered where they might find a place to serve God and His people.
Please join me at Lisa’s place to continue reading The Simple Work of Your Hands!
Posted in faith, life, writing
Tagged bloggers, blogging, Christianity, faith, God, life, Lisa Colon DeLay, ministry, Spiritual Guidance for Bloggers Series, writing
Today I have the pleasure of hosting one of my dearest online friends, the incomparable Leanne Shirtliffe of Ironic Mom. Between her killer wit and her beautiful heart, I was smitten as soon as I met her, and of course I love a gal who’s handy with an innuendo (if you know what I mean). And, like me, she knows that the best way to handle life with twins is to laugh at every opportunity. –Tamara
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There is nothing quite like suppressing a laugh in church. I do this often with my seven-year-old twins, who expend more energy and provide more entertainment than Cirque du Soleil on speed.
Here are ten churchy things Vivian and William have done that have made me want to crawl under a pew, curl up into the fetal position, and pray that the Second Coming is imminent –like in the next thirty seconds.
10. During the sermon, William started playing a loud version of I Spy. He started with “I spy something gray.” It’s an aging congregation.
9. When the choir started singing, William put both hands over his ears and kept them that way for the length of a cantata.
8. When I led the children’s craft before the service, Vivian asked if she could have more fairies for her cross. “They’re angels,” I said. I looked at William, who was holding up his stickers. “I know those are dolphins,” I said. “I couldn’t find fish stickers.”
7. Vivian and William had a hockey brawl, fighting over who got to put our money into the collection plate. I got hit with an upper cut.
6. When the pastor asked the children what God looked like, Vivian’s hand shot up. “Half man, half woman,” she said.
5. After partaking in bread and juice for the first time in communion, William loudly asked, “What was that all about?”
4. On another Sunday, Vivian returned to our pew after having communion and announced, “Jesus tastes yummy.”
3. The next week, Vivian was first up to the communion rail, knelt, and tumbled off in a sideways somersault.
2. While watching a baptism, William backed up and rear-ended a taller-than-him candle. It was set upright before the entire congregation had to stop, drop and roll.
1. Immediately after saying the Apostles’ Creed, Vivian turned to me and asked, “What’s a virgin, Mom?”
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Leanne Shirtliffe is the mother of seven-year-old twins. She blogs at IronicMom where her motto is “If you can’t laugh at yourself, laugh at your kids.” To escape from her kids, Leanne teaches junior high and finds that dealing with ninety-seven teenagers is often easier than being trapped in a house with her own spawn. Leanne is currently finishing revising her first manuscript, tentatively titled Get That Train off Your Penis: Things I Never Thought I’d Say As a Parent.
Tagged children, Christianity, church, guest posts, humor, Ironic Mom, Leanne Shirtliffe, life, parenting, religion, twins
I went straight from the Killer Tribes Conference to spring break with my family, so it’s been a little quiet around here lately. But I think this poem, shared here two years ago, is a fitting whisper into the spiritual quiet that precedes Easter Day. I hope it will bless you in some small way and that your Easter will be joy-filled. –Tamara
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Still,
In the stillness
Waiting,
Waiting still.
Not yet joy,
Just the darkness,
Waiting,
Waiting still.
Hope
In the quiet,
Through the darkness,
But still
Waiting, hoping
Still,
Still,
Still.
Tagged Christianity, Day Before Easter, Easter, faith, hope, Jesus, life, poetry, TOL Treasure
Today’s guest post comes from Eva Leppard of The Aspirational Agnostic. I’m excited to share her post about her search for faith because, no matter what our religion or where we are with it, I think a lot of us have doubts and questions, and it’s important to me that this be a place where we can be honest about them and thoughtfully discuss them. Enjoy! –Tamara
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Being raised as an insistent, dyed-in-the-wool, no-holds-barred atheist does set one up for some personal angst when one (ok, me) realises that she wants to discover God.
A road to Damascus moment would have been the ideal scenario, naturally, and I could have been loud and proud in my conversion and with my new and absolute understanding of the entire scope of Christian understanding. A nagging, uneasy feeling that I needed to begin a search and I wasn’t going to be able to relax until I’d discovered “something” is a whole lot less easy to explain or indeed to begin a conversation with.
I was raised to tolerate and respect all beliefs. Except Christians. Here, I understood that the best policy was to back away, smiling. Any interaction would instantly cause an infusion of bigotry, a passionate defence of biblical literalism and an instantaneous decrease in IQ points.
So deciding that I wanted to believe in God was a bit of a shock. And, to be brutally honest, a bit of an embarrassment. The first words that I said to the minister when I arrived at church on the first day were, “Hi, I’m Eva and I don’t think that I believe in God.” He was surprisingly fine with that, and I soon found out that I could continue to say “fuck” and drink wine and know that evolution isn’t a myth (seriously, don’t mess with me on that one), so things were definitely looking up.
The internet is both a blessing and a curse for the aspiring Christian; I have been in equal parts freaked out by the sheer amount of opinionated, bigoted claptrap promulgated in the name of Jesus and thrilled and inspired by the wonderful people seeking to do good in the world, trying to bring the message of Jesus to life. I’ve been able to find myself a neat little comfort zone where I can read about what people are doing and how people are changing the world, and where I can sit on the sofa and go, “Wow, that’s amazing! If I really believed in God, then I would TOTALLY do that.”
Because I haven’t had that road to Damascus moment, have I? I haven’t had that supernatural experience which would force me out of my (very, very small) comfort zone and make me get out there with the poor and the needy. Until that happens, I don’t really have to force myself, do I? If God truly wanted me, he would make it abundantly clear. No room for misinterpretation.
Wouldn’t he?
But then, there’s that little voice. That still, quiet voice that won’t shut. the. heck. up. That won’t let me close the book on this experiment that hasn’t ended in certainty, or proof, or absolute conviction.
The voice of God wouldn’t be a still, quiet little whisper, would it?
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Eva blogs at The Aspirational Agnostic. She is currently spending a disproportionately large time asleep, given that she is pregnant with son number four and also works as a high school teacher. She spends her remaining free time looking for God. He’s being very difficult to pin down.
(Editorial note: I didn’t Americanize Eva’s spellings because I think they’re fantastic.)
Tagged agnosticism, atheism, Christianity, Eva Leppard, faith, God, guest posts, life, religion, seeking God, The Aspirational Agnostic
Today’s guest post comes from Shanda Sargent of The Upside Down Pastor’s Wife. Shanda is an all-around beautiful woman, always offering encouragement and love. Her raw honesty and humble words here make an exquisite gift that I’m honored to share. –Tamara
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Stones.
Stones in the dirt.
Words in the sand.
I am the girl on the ground. Earth dirt is on my forehead, my lips, in my hair. Bits of grit are in my teeth, and my heart is filled with sludge. Sludge and darkness.
Stones.
Stones in hands more worthy than mine.
Stones that should be hurled. Without mercy.
I brace myself. I protect my head with filthy hands. I hear disgusted mumbles around me. I am scandal. I am stained. Shame wells up spilling into tears that leave muddy streaks on my cheeks and small puddles beneath my face. A ragged stick scratches mere words in the earth.
Stones.
Stones fall.
One by one.
HE touches me. I quake. Like shards of glass, HIS LIGHT pierces through my deadened soul. I am undone. HE removes my scarlet garment. I am FREE.
Whispers.
Whispers of unworthiness labor to sever me from freedom new. I scratch and claw my way to protect the remembrance of HIS touch.
I cannot.
My heart is cloudy. My head is blurred. I am in disbelief. I am lost. HE tenderly comes. HE never tires.
Whispers.
HIS whispers serenade me.
You matter.
You are seen.
You are loved.
You are worthy.
You are mine.
I cling to HIS TRUTH like air. I believe. I trust. I matter. I am seen. I am loved. I am worthy.
I am HIS.
I am grateful.
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Shanda Sargent belongs to her beloved, Matt, and homeschools their four very cool kids near the foothills of the Rockies. After almost 20 years of pastoral ministry, their family is “ruthlessly trusting” God in the midst of plan B.
You can follow her blog, The Upside Down Pastor’s Wife, where she rambles her heart’s stirrings once every couple of weeks, follow her on Twitter, or friend/subscribe to her Facebook.
Tagged Christianity, faith, forgiveness, guest posts, Jesus, life, love, redemption, Shanda Sargent, sin, The Upside Down Pastor's Wife
“Here is the church,” I laced my fingers together and hid them between closed palms. “Here is the steeple,” I shot my pointer fingers up and touched the tips together. “Open the door and see all the people,” I swung apart my thumbs and wiggled my entwined fingers. And this last was always my favorite part, the funny church members all wobbly and stuck together.
My fingers have grown since those days, but I still like to use them to remind myself of what makes up the Church. For all the division and frustration, for all the disillusionment and hurt, for all the damage that by rights should have razed the building long ago, still here is the Church. And still my favorite part is the people.
So often we find it necessary to speak of the Church’s hard and hurtful parts. Today it’s my joy to take part in my friend Preston Yancey’s astounding, uplifting project, At the Lord’s Table: A Conversation, “a series of over 50 posts from varying authors about the beautiful, mangled Church.”
Tagged acceptance, At the Lord's Table, ATLT, Christianity, church, community, faith, grace, Preston Yancey, religion, See Preston Blog
I write monthly for A Deeper Story, where the group of us is blessed to tell stories of Christ and culture, given space both to wrestle hard and to weave soft. We tell the small stories so we might better know the Grand Story, and we sit in a virtual circle beside that space’s dear readers, shoulder to shoulder but for computer screens and miles, a community built on words and the Word.
But we remember that the Word became flesh.
And this Word-become-flesh brought light to our dark world, not in virtual community but in dwelling among us. And so if we are gifted to use our words in that space of Christ and culture, it cannot be because we were meant to leave them at only words.
Our words must become flesh.
And the One who was gracious to speak life into form knows this and wants this and works this into being. And, having glimpsed how small the world is in God’s hands, I cannot help but tell the story…
Please continue reading today’s post at A Deeper Story!
Posted in faith, life, writing
Tagged A Deeper Story, Christianity, church, community, faith, Jesus, John 1:14, life, relationships, story, the Word became flesh, writing
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