Sacred Mundane: The Blog

I walked another loop inside that gate and thought, I don’t want to live this way.

See, it’s just getting far enough away to see daily life from a different perspective.

That’s really the value of a vacation, at least for us.

Often though, isn’t it true, when you’re in the middle of an intense situation, the flood of emotions and feelings about that situation don’t surface until you’re a few steps away. Like calmly walking through an emergency, but then bursting into tears as soon you’re safely away.

I think that’s a bit of how I’ve felt during this time away. 

Nothing bad at all, just wrestling. Truly, I love our life. LOVE. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The joy and privilege of church-planting and homeschooling and speaking and writing and having many people in our lives — it is a JOY.

But, like anything, there are costs.

And Jesus makes it clear when we sign-up for this following-Him gig that we’re wise to stop and evaluate: Do I really want to do this? Am I willing?

And so, in our journey of faith, we’re faced with this question periodically. We think we’re up for it. We say we’re up for it. And then He throws us a curve ball and says, “Foxes have dens to live in, and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place even to lay his head” (Matt. 8:20).

Ooooh. Yeah, that’s not what I had in mind, Jesus.

And so, it has been with me.

Added opportunities bring added costs.

And we must count them.

Not in a martyr-mentality sort of way. Just an honest sort of way. And so with tears I wrestle. Truly wrestle. And I let honest words flow. Really God, if you’d like to know, I’d like THIS thank you very much, and not THAT.

And so Wednesday morning, when Jeff suggested I go for a walk, I was ready.  We were a week into vacation and I’d had a cold, we’d been traveling, staying in 3 different places, eating random meals, and my body felt terrible. Exercise. I just needed some exercise.  So I walked out the door in Jeff’s sweatpants and huge t-shirt, headed who-knows-where, just happy to be moving and happy to be alone. But as I began to walk it dawned on me, Oh that’s right, this place is gated.

See, the little house we’re renting is in a gated community. Even the walkway is gated. And so there is a crystal-clear pool and no trash on the streets and not a sound to be heard. But outside these gates, on the other side of the street, is a sad, dumpy block of tarped-roofs and tin-can mobile homes and trash-strewn streets and loud traffic and you can’t even walk out there without a key or a code. 

Well I hadn’t brought a key. So I decided just to walk within my little gated community. But the entire loop only took 7 minutes, so around I went. Around and around I briskly walked, and while I was glad for a bit of exercise, I didn’t actually get anywhere. I didn’t see anything new. I didn’t learn anything. I didn’t have to navigate or think or interact with another human being besides one well-manicured lady with a poodle. I was walking in circles for crying out loud. And then I was struck …

I don’t want a gated life.

Really, all the things I’m wrestling with are just choices, simple ones: Do I want the gated, controlled life of comfort and ease, or am I willing to let things get messy? Am I willing to let messy people into my life. REALLY into my life? So that their messes mess with me? Am I willing to walk out there, live out there, beyond the gate, and let the trash and noise and questionable folks come close enough to touch?

Of course I know the answer. I don’t want a gated life. A safe life. A clean, perfect, climate-controlled life. But the wrestling is real, and it must be done.

And so goes this trip. 

I pray for you, as you consider what kind of life you want to lead, that you will wrestle too. The gated life is safer.

I don’t want to live safe. I want to live well.

For the glory of God. I think you probably do too.

{May you wrestle well and LIVE well, outside the gates. Thanks for reading.} 

Yesterday morning I curled up in bed, overwhelmed, fighting back tears. Yes, we’re on vacation. Yes, the sun is shining. Yes, this is fun. But life is still real and there is so much going on and many things loom ahead on the horizon and when I think of all the responsibilities and commitments I feel they will crush me and when Jeff walked in and sat beside me, I said it just like this: “I just don’t know if we can handle all that God’s called us to.”

And then, I was reminded afresh of this … 

I’m standing at the stove, smashing the toasted cheese sandwich with the flat of a metal spatula. It sizzles as I push it down, cheese melting, oozing out into the pan. Jeff is talking in a low voice. I slice apples in silence. We’re both discouraged.

This church thing—it’s hard. This parenting thing—it’s hard. This finance thing, this marriage thing, this faith thing, this life thing—it’s hard.

We both shake our heads. Why did God entrust us with so many things when we’re so pathetically ill-prepared? Why did He think we could handle all this?

Heidi patters into the kitchen, smiling. She can smell the toasted cheese and is ready for lunch. She wears a ratty yellow Hello Kitty t-shirt pulled over the top of a red velvet Christmas dress. Her hair is a wild tangle. I can’t help but gather her up in my arms and kiss her smiling mouth just to inhale her ridiculous sweetness.

“Here, Heidi,” I say as I set her back down, “You carry your lunch plate to the table.” She raises her arms enthusiastically, eager to help. As I lower the plate into her hands, I already know what will happen.

And it does.

She turns quickly—as children do, with no concept of centrifugal force—and the sandwiches and apple slices slide right off and onto the floor.

Her shoulders slump.

Of course I kneel down, right beside her, and together we pick up the slices and sandwich together. And while we’re both down there I kiss her again, assure her it’s ok, and tell her to run along and enjoy her lunch.

No harm done.

Seconds later Dutch runs in, asks for his, and I lower his plate into his outstretched arms. Of course he’s older, and just a little wiser (barely), so he slowly turns and walks carefully to the table, lunch intact.

I turn to Jeff. He smiles back. We’re both thinking the same thing.

God’s so gracious. He entrusts us with the plate, even though He knows we will let the whole lunch slide out onto the floor. And then He’ll stoop down low, right beside us, and help us pick it up. He’ll kiss us in the process, assure us it’s ok, then send us off to keep learning, growing. And when we’re just a little wiser (barely), down the road, we’ll know how to navigate the turns just a little bit better.

At least a little less of our lunch will wind up on the floor.

 {I am clinging to this right now. The plate seems too big, too tricky. Surely I will drop it all and make a mess. But we must know this truth. For whatever God has called you to carry–REST in this. Thank you so much for reading.}

Courage has never been my strong point.

As a little girl, I was so shy I would hide under my mom’s skirt every Sunday at church. I still remember the one time I got crazy-brave and rode in a small inflatable raft, pulled behind my dad’s boat. It got pulled under water and I was absolutely convinced I would drown. That pretty much put an end to my risk-taking ventures.

We have home videos of me recording one of my commonplace childhood tricks. I can still remember doing this:

I would stand in the middle of the living room, in front of my parents (the “audience”) and say,“You want to see something really hard for me?” And then I would throw myself around in strange contortions and gyrations, limbs flinging and head waving around. Then I would pull myself back together, standing tall with wide eyes and panting as if out of breath, and say,“That was really hard for me.” 

Now I look back at my 4-year-old self and just shake my head. Oh baby-girl…

Of course now it’s just a joke, and Jeff loves to tease me about it. But the truth is, that silly bit reveals a lot about who I was–and who I am.

I know that I really wanted to be brave. From 4-years-old I wanted to do hard things. I wanted to risk, to try, to do something courageous.

But I really struggled to be brave. 

On the one hand, it kept me out of trouble. I never did crazy things. I never got in trouble. I didn’t smoke or drink or party.  I never jumped off bridges. I’ve never even broken a bone. It certainly kept me safe.

But I don’t know that “safe” is the word I want to describe my life when all is said and done. I do know I don’t want the “hard things” I did in life to be nothing more than a lot of hopping up and down and throwing myself around in strange gyrations and contortions.

But sometimes it is.

Sometimes, if I’m really honest, the “hard things” I attempt are just a lot of ridiculous gyrations and not a lot of actual risk. I haven’t done much except jump up and down and ask people to watch. 

Ouch. 

So I sit here, right now, away from the busyness, in Arizona, and I ask God what that means for me right now. What does the real “hard for me” look like? The real stuff of risk? Things like selling our home, living on 1/3 of our last income, starting a church, those were precious baby steps–like me no longer hiding under my mom’s skirt–but deep down I know they didn’t take that much courage. In other words, I’m still standing in front of my mom and dad gyrating ridiculously and pretending to be brave.

So I asked Him what it meant. His answer surprised me.

Dream.

Why is it that as I type that word I begin to cry? Is it because I feel like my life has been so peppered with failure that I’m terrified to dream again? Because the enemy seems to spin every situation so that it reads failure?

But here’s what gets me. I see that same cycle in my kids. I see their caution. Their fear of failure. And I see that if I do not break the cycle, its stranglehold will keep them living the same cautious existence. So how do I break it? How do we break it?

By ditching the “something hard for me” bit.

As long as pursue merely the appearance of courage, we will not become courageous. Appearing brave and being brave are two entirely different things. So it means asking the Father, every day, What is true courage in this situation?

It will be different for each of us.

Honestly, I don’t know what it looks like yet. I just know I’m supposed to give up the “something hard for me” bit and begin to dream instead.

{I wrote this last year, and as I sit here again in the Arizona sun, I’m asking God to show me how He wants me to dream, for His glory, and be brave. May your week too be filled with God-led, sacred dreaming, for the glory of God. Be brave. Thanks for reading.}

I can’t believe I’m going to post this.

Here goes.

I understand getting hate-mail isn’t that big of a deal. I also understand the obvious reality that not everyone likes me. (smile) However, I received my first full-fledged piece of hate-mail last week, and it was such a good opportunity to consider how Jesus wants us to respond to those who hate us. I also just “happened” to be teaching through 1 John 3, and we were focusing on the passage surrounding v. 13:

“Do not be surprised, my brothers and sisters, if the world hates you.”

Well that’s funny because that’s exactly how I felt when I opened that email and read those words. Surprised. Like, Wow, this person REALLY hates me. But I soon realized it was not really me, but rather the idea of me. 

Now, you may question the wisdom of this (or perhaps a lot of the things I do) but I believe that part of what God has called me to do with my life is to live as Exhibit A. That is, offer up my most real self–the good parts, the growing parts, the really ugly parts–and give you one example of a daugher of the King giving her best shot at living for Jesus.

You will see failure, you will see triumph …

… you will see hatemail. 

So here it is. Then we’ll talk about it:

Your hair is so beautiful and blonde. Your message is so soothing. I’m wondering why you’re not living the life of Jesus? He gave his life to help the poor (do you vote according to your right-wing hubbie e.g., cut food stamps; anti ACA that finally gives health care to children w/”pre-existing conditions” etc.) and stay at home baking cookies while non-right-wing mothers just like you WORK and have meaningful careers while raising wonderful GOD’s children.

You are sooooooooooooooooooo PRETTY!!!! And your Driscoll-esqu manly man no doubt loves using you instead of someone he would have to pay for. Oh, that’s right, he does pay for you because you don’t stand up for yourself EVER for ANY REASON WHATSOEVER.

Thanks for helping more men think that they own us. THEY DO NOT.

Wowza! There’s a lot going on here, but after spending the day in prayer, before responding, a few things came to mind:

• Speak the truth in love. If someone wrongly attacks or accuses us, there is a time to remain silent, but there is also a time to speak the truth in love correcting those who accuse. Paul does exactly this in 1 Corinthians 9.

• Use every opportunity to talk about Jesus. I figure if someone thinks about me enough to write me a letter or criticize, they are listening! Well then, let’s take the opportunity to talk about Jesus. It’s no big surprise that I’m full of faults, but Jesus isn’t—let’s focus on Him. The way the gospel spread in the book of Acts was through persecution. Whenever the apostles were attacked, they used it as a chance to talk about Jesus. That’s how the Philippian jailer got saved (Acts 16)!

• Pray. Matthew 5:44 is clear—pray for those who persecute you.  I believe that if God allows someone across my path, there’s a reason. So, pray! “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places (Eph 6:12). Our fight is not against the people who hate us, but against the powers who hate Jesus. I have been praying daily for the gal who wrote this letter, although we have never met.

So, without further ado, my letter:

Hi xxxxx,

Wow, your letter makes me sad.  Do you know, love, and follow Jesus? Every day I fail in my attempts to love and follow Him, but that is my greatest desire, and I see His life most characterized by love. Do you find yourself growing in your ability to love others?

I couldn’t write back right away because I spent the day with a homeless gal … (I go on to share some specific ways that we ARE serving the poor and tangibly following Jesus. Ya’ll don’t need to know all those details. 🙂

Then, of course, there’s all the ways that I fail. I lose my temper with my children. I get jealous and critical of others. Some days I get so tired of being with people that I just want to run away and live in the mountains where no one knows me. Every fall season I’m really tempted to buy new boots. I have tons of acne scars from some rough teen years. I have thick ankles.

I share all this, not to promote myself or deprecate myself, but to let you know a little more of who I am, and let you know I am a real women, doing my best, just like you. I certainly fail every single day, as you do, but we must encourage and cheer for each other instead of pushing each other down, yes?  My husband (who is not Driscoll-esque in any way other than his facial hair.  Perhaps you would have a more accurate assessment if you had ever met him.), champions and supports me. He does all my social media, stays home with the kids many weekends as I travel to speak, and humbly serves me to no end.  I am so sorry that you have so misjudged my family, but I am mostly sorry for you, sister, because your heart is full of hate and bitterness, and there is no hope and life and joy in that place.

With all my heart I pray that you find joy and peace, instead of bitterness. I am sorry you find me so offensive.  Gratefully, I am loved with a crazy love from a Beautiful Savior which enables me to walk in peace and confidence despite all my failings and despite the praise or criticisms of others. Before Him and Him alone I stand or fall. I pray you come to know Jesus’ love that transforms our hearts and gives us life.

With His love,

Kari

I may come to regret sharing this; it’s way beyond my comfort zone. But let me tell you something, Jesus-following sisters and brothers:

When you are walking with Jesus you have nothing to be ashamed of. You can walk in humble confidence because JESUS is your confidence. You don’t have to share your resume but when you walk in obedience and selfless service to others, you don’t have to second guess yourself or smart under every criticism. You can stand secure.

If you are following Jesus, stand tall. He is your judge. He is your master. He is your lover. There is peace, rest and confidence there.

I pray you do follow Him with all your heart. And may His confidence and peace be with you this weekend, no matter what mail you receive…

Thank you so much for reading. I truly value your love, care, and partnership in this life of faith.