The Road in Front of Me

I have always been fascinated by roads. Not in the design, build, or types of roads, but just simply the road.

When I was in college, I initially fell in love with the road because my college boyfriend and I would take drives through the country in Putnam, Smith and Overton county. We often found ourselves there when we just needed time to talk or even just to drive quietly holding hands, because a dorm was definitely not the place to be able to do those things, it’s never quiet! We would drive for hours, getting lost just so we could find our way home. I used to say “All roads lead back to Cookeville.” It really did feel that way. But we always found our way back and we rarely had to turn around, maybe all roads do lead to Cookeville?

We laughed on our travels, cried, got frustrated, likely yelled a couple of times, got scared one time on one particularly creepy road (yea, we turned around that time!), and just really began to understand one another better. We always knew that taking a drive would give us the time to work through whatever we needed to work through. I began to really see the true man, his passions, his hopes, his dreams. While I had fallen in love with him rather quickly, I inadvertently fell in love with the road in the process. 

You see, I didn't drive until I went to college. In fact, I got my license at 18, and the only reason I got it then was because I didn't want my younger sister to have her license before me. She was a bit more motivated than I was apparently. My sophomore year of college, I took my car with me to school because I had an off-campus job. Those first few months, I was terrified. I was afraid that I wouldn't figure this out, but I did, and I never realized how much I would love the freedom to be on the open road with the windows down, air in my face, heat on my feet and the music to sing along to.

After I broke up with my college boyfriend, I began to take those drives by myself (don't worry, I always made someone aware of where I was headed or I would take someone with me). I would take those old familiar routes, but then I began to try new routes, just to see where it would take me. Again, causing me to fall more in love with the road than I ever knew possible.

When I decided to go to seminary, I chose Asbury, for several reasons. One, it allowed me to remain in Cookeville working as a youth minister, and taking classes online. Two, it was an easy drive from Cookeville for those classes on campus. Over the years that I was in Seminary, I began to appreciate the drives to Asbury because it gave me a complete 4 hour drive to think, pray, be. That was until one of my final semesters where I had to go every Thursday for a class. That drive got old real quick, 8 hours in a car every Thursday. I didn't always like the road at that point. But interestingly enough when I needed to clear my mind, I would still find myself driving down that old familiar road headed often towards Waterloo.

When I moved to Murfreesboro, I quickly learned where everything was because taking a drive was always a good way for me to unwind and take a deep breath. The road has always been a place of peace for me. In fact, I have a friend who understands when I need a moment of peace because I will say "I am going for a drive." She doesn't question, she just knows. 

To be real, the road hasn't always been kind, as I have had car accidents, driven in snow and ice and dealt with the elements, and you know how much fun that is! I have experienced foggy days where you can't go any faster than 20mph on the interstate. Yet, I always find my way back to the road. 

This love affair that I have for the road still holds true today. When I find myself on a road going somewhere in particular or even going no where but where the car takes me, I find myself. I find myself here after I see a thought provoking movie, or when I have a sermon to write and just can’t find it. I find myself here when I have a hard day, sad day, bad day, great day, or even days filled with epiphanies. The road has often become my place of refuge. And often it has become the place where God meets me. 

Throughout my 14 years of driving, I have taken many of drives:

Some with people that I initiated, ( it’s a great place to talk about life and honestly a great place to get people talking), some I didn’t. 

Some I have experienced great adventures or terrifying moments, like the time my friend Adrianne and I encountered a massive dog on a country road in the middle of Overton County at night and thought it was a Yeti. Yea, that scared me to death!

Some I laughed until I cried. 

Some I just cried. 

Some I sang at the top of my lungs as the music came over the speakers. 

Some I drove in complete silence because I had nothing to say. 

Some I listened, some I spoke. 

Some I got angry, and some I sat humbly. 

Some I felt a sense of awe and wonder as I saw the mountains unfold in front of me or that moment when I come over that hill in Fairfield Glade, and see that steeple of the church that I call home. And I think, it’s so good to be home.

Today, on this Good Friday. A day that has culminated in remembering the suffering and death of Jesus, in the midst of the life around me that continues to move and change with each new moment. I find myself longing for the road. Longing for the place of refuge. The place of peace. The place to breathe. So I go. Not for long, just long enough.

In every moment that I find myself there, the road has met me again like an old friend. It’s like it says to me, “Here we are again. Take a deep breath. Take in what is around you. Look in the rear view mirror once in a while when you are changing lanes. Otherwise, look forward. Keep going. and when you stop, I will be here when you need me again.”

As I travel down these roads, it's almost as if God has said to me, "I am here. Take a deep breath, I have you. Step away from it all for just a moment, and hear these words that have been spoken over and over again, "My peace I leave you. My peace I give you..." 

May it be so, O God, in each of our lives. May it be so. 

Mister Rogers Still Surprises Me!

I picked up my iPad tonight to read for the first time in a while. I opened it up and the first book that opened was The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers. Most people may not know this but I am fascinated by this man. I watched him growing up every day and I still watch him at times today. Most recently, a couple of movies have come out that reminds me why I look up to this man. He makes me want to be a better person. He makes me want to look at my life and work on my relationships with people and my relationship with God. He challenges the way I think, the way I interact with people, and even the way that I respond to my anger that dwells up within me.

Tonight as I read, I found myself again drawn to him in a new way. The author was writing about how she and Fred exchanged letters that contained different ways that’s they could pray for one another, and it would eventually move to praying for their friends, I must admit, I am a little jealous that she got to have these interactions with him and I didn’t, but I won’t hold that against her. 😉 As she finishes this chapter that was about prayer, she writes: “And so with that Fred was handing down another toast stick: Prayer is not only a daily discipline that deepens our relationship with God; it also provides a way for us to be together in our aloneness.” 

In the midst of this isolation, I find this to be a very profound and comforting thought... definitely something to think on and maybe expand my thoughts on in the future but for now, I think I want to sit with it. See where it takes me. Where does it take you?

Do Not Be Afraid

There are days when the only thing that I can do is write… so tonight, I write. 

For the last several weeks, my heart has been heavy. 

It holds within it people who are hurting because of loss or illness and a town that I love and people that I care about so deeply who have experienced a great deal of pain, loss, and heartache. When I heard about the tornado, I began texting the people that I knew were in the path. I had learned early in the day that the people that I knew were safe, some lost things, but their families were ok. While I worked that day, my heart was with them, because I knew that other families were not so lucky, and many of the families that I knew were connected to those that were lost. That week was a hard week for so many, and many there are still trying to figure out what comes next. But if I learned anything about Cookeville, it is that it IS a place that is strong and will rebuild.

Then this week, this virus, this COVID-19, that has been coming upon us, came quicker than we would have liked. When I began to hear about a quarantine, I immediately responded in anger- which is really a response that is fear, just appearing as anger. I was angry because I knew it could hurt a lot of people. I was angry because it was scary. There was a part of me that wanted to deny it. But reading the CDC reports, hearing reports from doctors and political leaders, I have come to realize that we must take this seriously, and that yes, it can be scary. It is scary. When I heard that we should be practicing “social distancing” and avoiding touch, my anger doubled, because that is about as appealing as a banana is to me, meaning not appealing at all. 

As I have had time to think about all of this, to read, to research, to talk through and now to work through what it means to move worship services to completely online with amazing pastors and staff, my heart has softened, my mind has cleared, and my anger has dissipated. I realized that this isn’t about me. This quarantine is not meant to hurt us; it’s meant to help us in the long run. This is about protecting other people, specifically those who are older, or whose immune systems are compromised. This is about taking care of our nurses and doctors so that the hospital doesn’t become overwhelmed. This is really about loving one another. It just looks a little different that it normally would, but its love none the less.

This is about community. This is about unity. In fact, in the midst of the fear that seems so present, it is community that has always come through in the worst moments. And I have a feeling it will be community that will get us through this hard moment.

Over the last two weeks, I have watched the communities that I love: Cookeville, Nashville, Murfreesboro, come together and be embraced. I watched as people gathered to clean up and to love people by offering their hands, bobcats, and compassionate hearts. I have taken part in conversations about how to best serve and love our community when we can’t actually see each other face to face. I have experienced great moments of joy and peace. I have watched these communities show the world just how strong they are together. I have listened to sermons, prayers, and worship services where the word isn’t just about what has happened, but about the HOPE that still exists in the midst of the chaos and even in the midst of the quiet.

Hope can be found when someone helps you dig through the rubble to help you find those pictures from your wedding day, or someone who will bring you groceries or a meal, because you don’t cook anymore. Sometimes hope comes directly from scripture reminding us of the radical hospitality, mercy, forgiveness and grace of a God who loves us, and sometimes it’s a child who puts a smile on your face with a video that he made about how to put Legos together to make a car. 

HOPE can be found, if we will just look for it. 

The problem is that sometimes we miss hope, because we live in fear. It seems often times, fear really shows its ugly and lying ways when there is a change, when something comes up that we have yet to face that causes our foundation to be rocked. And sometimes rather than facing that fear head on, it’s easier to just buckle under the pressure and give in to the fear. To live in fear and forget to hope. 

Over the last several weeks, fear has been ever present. Fear that weather will come again, fear of a virus that seems inevitable in this moment. Fear of people because they may give us this virus. Fear of what we do not understand and do not know how to stop. Fear is rampant. I know that because in my own bones these last several weeks, I have lived it more times than I care to admit. I have been afraid and truthfully there have been moments when I have buckled under the pressure that fear causes and given in to that fear. Yet, I was reminded this week as I sat in worship on Thursday night that there is HOPE. Fear does not have the last word, even when our whole being has given into fear, it’s not the end. There is still God who is speaking to our hearts, “do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” While the circumstances for Joshua were different, I believe God is saying that to us now. Do not be afraid. Take precaution, do what you have to do to be safe. But know that this quarantine will only last for a while, though we don’t know what that means or even how long. There will come a time when hugs, handshakes, and visits will be ok again, but for now, keep your distance. Call people rather than visiting in person. Facetime. Sit on your front porch talking across the lawn to your neighbors. Cook a meal. Take time to be. Take time to love.

I realize that it’s easy to say these words, and its much harder to live them. I guarantee you over the next little bit, I will have my own moments where I forget to live in hope because of everything going on. Because it can be heavy. It will be hard. 

As I laid down in my bed last night, I found these words from Bread for the Journey written by Henri Nouwen, “Sometimes it’s good to say, “You don’t have to talk. Just close your eyes. I am here with you, thinking of you, praying for you, loving you.” All I could think of were the people that God has placed in my life for the moments when it is heavy, who may not have said these exact words of Nouwen’s but who have said words like these.

So my prayer for you in the coming days and weeks is that in the moments when we hit our walls, when we begin to fear more than hope, or when being isolated gets the best of us may we have courage to reach out to the people that God has gifted us with. Even though we may not be able to see one another face to face, may you hear and know these words: “You don’t have to talk. Just close your eyes. I am here with you, thinking of you, praying for you, loving you.” And know that even in moments when we feel most alone, God is there saying, “Do not be afraid… for I am with you.”

Winter

I recently moved. 

I moved into this beautiful post-World War 2 home. Much of this home has been renovated, it still has the amazing character that it was built with, but the bathroom seems to have remained untouched. You see it’s blue. When I say it’s blue, I mean, its BLUE. The tile is blue and white, the toilet is blue, the sink is blue, and the tub is blue. Honestly, it was the blue bathroom and the beautiful arch going into the dining room that sold me on this home (and the fact that I get to have a room dedicated to my books- thank you Beauty and the Beast for giving me the dream of having a Library in my home). I rented it in early July and moved in the middle of July. It has taken me a month to find the right shower curtain for this very blue bathroom, but finally...

I found it. It is an image of a tree, and all around the tree, you find a colorful representation of each season. Tonight, as I got ready for bed and washed my face, I couldn’t help but just look at this tree, and the seasons that are represented, and I felt like the tree.

A friend of mine has a favorite phrase, “this is just a season, it won’t always be like this.” And while I hate it when she uses that phrase because she is usually saying, “I know it’s hard, but you will get through this, I promise,” she is also saying, “I know it’s hard. But you will get through this, I promise.”

I have had many seasons in my life so far, seasons where I was in school, seasons where I was tired, seasons where I have been heartbroken, seasons where the beauty of new beginnings was exciting and on the horizon. As I looked at this tree, the question came to my mind, “what season are you in?” 

If you were to ask anyone that knows me, my favorite season is Winter. There is a calm that comes over me as the weather gets cold and the clouds seem to be around a lot more, and the sunshine seems to be hidden. Oddly enough, that is when I am at my best. I love the cold. I love the gloomy weather. I love the smell of the possibility of snow. With that being said, as I looked at this tree, I found that the tree is most vulnerable, in the midst of the winter. It has no leaves to protect it, and it seems that it’s just saying “here I am, every visible part of me, I have nothing to hide, and I have nothing to hide the parts that I don’t like. This is me.” So, my answer to the question was, I find myself feeling like the tree in the midst of winter. 

Over the past several months, I have been going pretty non-stop, often not even taking the time to notice the trees outside and the changes that have been happening, and August just came out of nowhere. The seasons went from Winter to Spring, to Summer (my least favorite sort of weather), almost not even noticing, 

but now… I notice. 

I not only notice that the literal seasons have changed, but I also notice the seasons of my life, that are changing. The leaves that are turning, the people who come and go. The joy that I am finding, and the loss that I am experiencing. Change is hard. Change is good. Change is inevitable.

As I sit here now, in the midst of the summer, I long for winter. I long for the cold. I long for the promise of snow. I don’t always long to be vulnerable, nor do I long for my life to always be in a state of change. But thankfully, in this moment, winter teaches me, that vulnerability is a gift. And being able to say, “This is all of me. You can take me for what I am, and I am enough.” That is a gift as well. But it also reminds me that with every change in season something new grows, and sometimes it dies, but then soon enough it will grow again, maybe in ways that you never could have seen coming.

I anticipate that moment when the leaves begin to turn, but while I wait, I will be thankful for the season that I am moving through and the lessons I have learned and I am excited about the season and the changes to come. 

Come on Winter! Come a little sooner than everyone expects, surprise us, invite us into your gloomy clouds and cold air… I will sure be glad to see you and thank you for the reminder of the gift that only winter when everything else is stripped away, offers us.

The Place Where the Lost Things Go...

It might not surprise you, but I have seen Mary Poppins Returns 2 times, with two different groups of people, and plan to see it a third time tomorrow with friends. Each time as the movie ends, I can’t help but be in awe of the magic, and the way that Mary Poppins makes you think everything is possible, even the impossible. This movie is moving and inspiring. It makes you smile, laugh, and cry all within about a 2-hour span. To see the way that Mary can help children find their imagination and find their childhood again. To watch her as she is one of the most empathetic people, who truly asks for nothing in return, she just wants to help and every time that the camera pans to her face, you see that she feels so deeply for the Banks family. This movie invites us to approach difficult topics with children, topics like death. Death often makes us uncomfortable and it often causes sadness, both of which make us not want to talk about it, sometimes not allowing the space for questions, thoughts, or memories to be talked about. The other part of this is that death often begs the question (especially for children), "what if I forget?" There is no easy answer, but I feel like Mary Poppins responds in a beautiful and simple way in the song, The Place Where the Lost Things Go.

The words go like this:

Do you ever lie awake at night?

Just between the dark and the morning light

Searching for the things you used to know

Looking for the place where the lost things go

Do you ever dream or reminisce? 

Wondering where to find what you truly miss

Well maybe all those things that you love so

Are waiting in the place where the lost things go

Memories you've shared gone for good you feared 

They're all around you still though they've disappeared

Nothing's really left or lost without a trace

Nothing's gone forever only out of place

So maybe now the dish and my best spoon

Are playing hide and seek just behind the moon

Waiting there until it's time to show

Spring is like that now far beneath the snow

Hiding in the place where the lost things go

Time to close your eyes so sleep can come around

For when you dream you'll find all that's lost is found

Maybe on the moon or maybe somewhere new

Maybe all you're missing lives inside of you

So when you need her touch and loving gaze

Gone but not forgotten is the perfect phrase

Smiling from a star that she makes glow

Trust she's always there watching as you grow

Find her in the place where the lost things go

Every time that I see this film and hear this song, I automatically think of those in my life that I have lost, and right now, I am really thinking about my Meme.

Meme, my grandmother would have been 85 years old on January 2. Meme was my heart. She understood me, she made me laugh when I was sad, she calmed me when I was mad at my mom, her daughter, eventually helping me understand that my mom was right. She gave me my love for musicals by watching them with me. She would stand by the door waiting for me as I came home from a date, and the first question was always, "How did it go? Did he kiss you?" She was always interested in what was going on in any of her grandkids or children's lives. She wanted what was best for them and would do anything to make it happen. 

She loved people, especially her people, and she among others taught me how to love people. She had the same hairdresser that she went to see every Friday morning and whom she followed around for years. They genuinely cared about each other, and when Meme was too frail to go to her hairdresser, she came to Meme. When Meme lost her hair because of the chemo, she painted her nails. Meme loved her, and she loved Meme. Meme was the kind of person that others wanted to love, as well. 

She had the oddest first name, and truth be told I don't think she liked it much. But to us, she was our Meme and that’s all that mattered. She had a way of lighting up a room when she walked in it. She taught me many things: the joy of cooking and watching people eat the meal you made; she taught me how to listen (though often towards the end, she would fall asleep on me); she and my mom taught me how to love by giving thoughtful and meaningful gifts; She taught me how to love by letting me sit in her floor below her bed when I couldn't sleep, and eventually she would wake up and play with my hair and talk until I got tired. 

When I was in middle school and high school, meme lived with us, and one of her favorite things to do was to get out of the house and go for a drive every day, and often on that drive she would buy white chocolate Reese's and put them in the fridge when she got home. Inevitably I would find my way to the fridge after school for a drink or a snack, and there they were sitting in the door waiting for me to eat one. Her favorite snack, however, was sugar and salt. She used to hide different foods in her nightstand, so mom couldn't find them, she was diabetic and was on a low sodium diet. I always kept her secret! Though if I had known how dangerous those foods were for her, I might not have. But then maybe she wouldn't have shared her pringles at 2am. Lol!

The other thing that really reminds me of Meme is the cross that I often wear around my neck. That was the last gift she ever gave me. I was 16 years old, and she gave this cross that she used to wear around her neck every day for as long as I could remember, and promised me when I was about 5 years old (walking around with this long chain and a gold cross at the end) that I would get it when I turned 16. She held that promise, even though I had long forgotten it. 

You never know how much you’re going to miss those people that mean the absolute most to you until you lose them. Meme never saw me graduate. She never saw me wear that dress to Prom. She'll never hear me preach and do what I am called to do. She'll never meet my future husband or her great-grandchildren. She'll never meet her two great-grandchildren that exist right now, and she'll never see her children grow old. 

I can't lie, even now I miss my Meme. I miss her love of the Chicago Bulls (even though this was really because Micahel Jordan played for the Bulls), I miss her laugh and I miss her. I wish I could have one more day and tell her how much I love her. I never got to tell her because the last time I saw her, I struggled through a psalm as I read it to her, and I couldn't put two words together to tell her how much I loved her. I just kissed her on the forehead and said I would be back. I thought I had more time. But I didn't. 

I know she knew how much I loved her. Just like I know how much she loved me. But I still miss her. 

I think one of the things that I have learned about grief, not just by living my own grief but by watching others grieve, is that grief doesn’t ever go away. In some ways, it’s always there. But it changes over time. The memories become bittersweet, sometimes you think of them and smile, and there will always be triggers, some you learn to deal with because you see them coming and some come out of nowhere. Nothing ever goes back to the same after you lose someone, you simply find a new normal. And the hardest part is that the new normal only include them in your heart and memories. 

Then my mind goes back to the lyrics from Mary Poppins Returns:

So, when you need her touch and loving gaze
Gone but not forgotten is the perfect phrase
Smiling from a star that she makes glow
Trust she's always there watching as you grow
Find her in the place where the lost things go

Meme has been gone now for 15 years. It’s hard to believe that it’s been that long, yet there are still moments when I see something that reminds me of her, especially when I look in the mirror and take the time to really see the cross around my neck or anytime I see those white chocolate Reese’s Cups; it brings a smile to my face, a flashback to my mind, and often a tear in my eye.

But you know what... I am ok with that. I want to remember those moments, even the ones that weren’t life-altering because it’s in those fleeting moments that I can hear or see her once more. And while I don’t live only in those moments, every once in a while, it’s nice to remember and smile because I know that she is watching me grow and that Meme is the place where the lost things go. 

Presence

The day was August 26, 2007. It was the Sunday before the beginning of my Junior year of college. I was walking into that year having changed my major… again, and not really knowing what I was going to do with my life. Back in May of that year, I remember telling everyone that was on the choir tour that I was going into ministry, but to be quite honest, that terrified me. I went home for the summer and came back to school convinced that God was not calling me into ministry, that I had simply misheard. I wanted to help people. I didn’t know what it meant, but that was what I wanted to do. So I majored in sociology. 

As per usual on the Sunday before classes, I went to Wesley. My home. As I sat in that room, that sacred space, the space that even now when I walk into it, I feel the presence of God. That space that when I sit down on one of the couches (they are different couches now thankfully), I can see the room lit only by the candle in the middle of the room as each person would go to take communion and prayer at the alter on any given Wednesday evening. That space that when I walk through the door I still expect to see those people who loved me and whom I loved, and who to this day I know if I needed something they would be there. That space that I can still hear “We are one in the Spirit” being sung a capella as we close worship each Wednesday night. That space, that sacred space. On that particular evening, I sat in the back of the room on the couch, I can/t remember who was sitting next to me, but it could have been Amanda Dennis (Harrell), but don’t quote me on that. We sang a few songs and then we sat down and we awaited a sermon from Bud. I love a good Bud sermon. Bud has this gift where he can take anything, even the most obscure object or film and bring light and God out of it. I had missed his preaching over the summer so I waited anxiously to hear what he had to say. He began to preach and I honestly don’t remember what he said, but he wouldn’t stop looking at me as he spoke. At first, it didn’t bother me because I figured he would look somewhere else soon, but I realized that he just kept talking and looking directly at me,. Later in the evening, I asked Bud why he kept looking at me, he said, “it felt right so I kept doing it.” Bud didn’t know that I had decided to walk away from whatever call I had. And Bud didn’t know what those words were doing, whatever he was saying was changing my heart and opening my heart to where God had called me to be. It was a Sunday that would begin to unravel even more where I would end up.

 I have told this story many times, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what he preached on that evening that began turning my plans upside down until tonight…

I have been going through my guest room closet, you know the closet. The one where you hide everything and there are things all the way up to the ceiling with no organization in sight. Well, I was tired of it so I rearranged my guest room and cleaned out my closet. I went through every picture that was present, some bringing back some great memories, some causing a great amount of pain, some that made me laugh out loud and some that simply made me reminiscence about “the good ole days.” But then, I also emptied 4 boxes of books that needed to be put on the shelves, and several of them were journals from the past. I opened the green one first and as I read through I was surprised to come across an entry from August 26, 2007, it read: 

“It’s the night before classes begin again. I am not really nervous but I am. I am nervous about the online classes. Lord, tonight Bud talked about being the presence of Christ. What does that mean? I mean to me personally? What am I supposed to be? I really feel like I am going where I do feel led to go, but while he was talking tonight it was like he was speaking directly to me. I don’t know what to do! I am at a dead end, I don’t know if I should turn right or left. I feel lost. I need your help.”

What I didn’t know is that God had answered that prayer. God had already shown me the way, I just hadn’t found it yet. I would spend that semester trying to figure out what to do with my life and trying to figure out why adults think that a college student should make a decision that would determine the rest of her life while she is in college. I mean, seriously! It was during this semester that I would join the UMC, taking all that I had learned growing up and spreading my wings. It was that semester that I would find a new church home in a retirement community 40 minutes away from Cookeville because they felt like home. It was that semester that I would wrestle with this idea of being a pastor and I would go back and forth and spend numerous hours talking to Bud, Lanita, Max, and so many others and trying to convince myself that I was wrong or that I misheard.

God began something in me a long time ago, something that I didn’t even know existed inside of me. A love for God and a love for people and God showed me that the best way to combine those two loves was to be a pastor. I would never have been prepared to listen to God if God hadn't begun calling me through other people who allowed God to move through them.

This morning in worship, I had the honor of baptizing a beautiful little girl. As I read questions to her parents and baptized her and prayed over her “The Holy Spirit work within you, that having been born through water and the Spirit, you may live as a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ,” I couldn’t help but wonder how will God use her over all of the years of her life. And how now I can't help but wonder how many people would God use to speak to her and how many times would God use her to speak to other people.

I don't tell this story so that you can tell me if I made the right choice or even as any praise to me. I tell this story because we need to be reminded that God uses people every day to change the trajectory of our lives by speaking through a person. I tell this story also to remind us that one day, there will be another little girl or boy who will grow up and God will speak to them through you, just as there will be people in the congregation this morning that God will use to speak to that little girl. Please don’t be afraid to allow God to use you to speak to another. God will use you, be open to it.

I’m Not Ready...

This afternoon, I got home and just wanted to watch something silly. So I turned on Netflix and was flipping through the available movies, and settled on Dr. Strange. I realize that Dr. Strange isn’t silly, and I found that it was actually very stressful (but so good!!), and so profound on so many levels, but there was one scene that took me by surprise (shocker, I know)):

Dr. Stephen Strange: I’m not ready.
The Ancient One: No one ever is. We don’t get to choose our time. Death is what gives life meaning. To know your days are numbered. Your time is short.
[she holds Strange’s hand]
The Ancient One: You’d think after all this time I’d be ready, but look at me. Stretching one moment out into a thousand just so that I can watch the snow.

While the Ancient One was talking about death, and Dr. Strange was talking about fighting the powerful Dormammu, I believe that that the phrase, “I’m not ready” could be said about so many things in life, not just about death or in a fight. Over my 30 years, I don’t know how many times I have found myself saying that same statement, “I’m not ready,” nor do I know how many times I have heard it from other people. To be fully ready for anything takes preparation. Some preparation is easy, but some is difficult and hard. Some preparation can bring you to tears and some can bring you to laughter. There is this idea that for us to accomplish anything or be anything means that we have to be ready. At this point in the film, Dr. Strange had gone through so much preparation, but never felt like it was enough. Is there ever enough time to prepare? Will you ever be ready for that exam that you studied like crazy for? Will you ever be ready for something new? Or will we will always be wanting more time to prepare, more time to be ready?

One of the profound time that I remember saying “I am not ready” was when I told the pastor at the church that I was serving in, that I did not want to to become the youth director after it suddenly became available. He came to me a few days later and asked me to consider taking the role. By the end of the day, I had agreed to become the new Youth director at the church. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I was Terrified! There were many moments in that role that I had no idea what I was doing, but what I learned was that each time I found myself not knowing what to do, God placed people in my life to help me learn. In fact, looking back, God has consistently placed people in my life to help me find my way when I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I will forever be thankful to that Pastor because in many ways he was allowing God to use him so that I could find my way, just as God has used so many others.

This doesn’t mean that one should never prepare, nor does it mean that I want to just be thrown into something without the preparation that I actually need for whatever is ahead. It also doesn’t mean that I will never use the words “I am not ready” again, because the reality is there will be many moments when I don’t feel ready. But what this scene reminds me of is that even in the moments when I don’t feel ready, I know that I am not alone in feeling unprepared (no matter how prepared I really am). But I also see how even when we think we aren’t ready, we are still put in the game, and somehow we survive, even if we fail, we survive and we try again. 

So maybe one will never be ready no matter how prepared you are... or maybe we are more ready than we think we are, we just have to take the leap. 

For me, in those moments in the past and those moments that will be in the future where I will find myself feeling not ready, it’s often taking a leap of faith knowing that no matter where I land, God has me, that can be hard. The thing is, no matter how young or old you are, no matter how much life you have lived, no matter how many times God has brought you through those moments sometimes having faith to take the leap is scary... but in the end is so worth it. 

So, Here’s to us all taking a leap even in, especially in, the moments when we are so NOT ready!e

P.S. If you are reading this terrified of what is in front of you... know that you aren’t alone, we all have our moments! Your allowed to have your moment.