Page 73 of 99

What to do When You Don’t Have X-Ray Vision

I played a tennis match awhile ago against an amazon-like woman who wore her anger like the too-tight tennis dress she had on.

I tried to talk friendly. “Wow it looks like you’ve been somewhere warm!” I said admiring her tan.

She glared at me. “No.  No place,” she said emphatically.  “I just do this for tennis.” indicating a self-tanner.

“Have you played long?”

“Awhile.” Scowl.

We played.  She scowled more.  Gave terse answers to my attempts to get to know her.  Told me I was flat-out wrong on a line call.  She got mean.

She scared me.  Honestly!

I started praying while I played “Lord what is going on with this woman?”  This is crazy.  This is stupid soccer mom tennis, not Wimbledon.”

“Hurting people hurt people.” I heard in my head.  Then I realized it wasn’t anger she was wearing, but shame.  And sadness.

After the match I tried once again.  It turned out she was just back after maternity leave.  I’m sure she had been up with a baby and was sleep-deprived.  It became clear she was feeling fat and ugly and not at all “herself”.

I remember those hard-to-feel-beloved-when-you’re-so-cross-eyed-tired-and-barely-have-time-to-shower days.

It made me wonder how often we mistake shame for anger. We see the battle fatigues someone is wearing and miss the tattered t-shirt of pain hiding beneath.

Continue reading

Bumper Sticker Theology on Fearless Friday

For most of my life I’ve been devoted to black and white.  Terrified of opening myself to the gray and listening to those with other perspectives.  As terrified as I am of snakes.  Like I might lose control and get bitten and die.

But I’ve learned that black and white people often speak in sound bites which aren’t super conducive to community.  Or growth.

More and more I see Facebook updates, tweets, buttons, and bumper stickers that try to sum up a conversation in 140 characters.  Pithy sayings.

Some of this is cute.

9ae06c2bb1941c4056d1b2eabb5046ad

1c7221c014f0bc9f4e56aae705d86766

Some of it makes me cringe.

5dd1bd45a7246263dc40956dacafdee7

l love black and white.  Right and Wrong.  Winners and Losers.  Problem solved.  Clear solutions.  Definite closure.  Move on.

My husband?  He’s more gray.  His refrain is “It’s complicated…”

Continue reading

Where are You Going Today?

There is a lonely, socially awkward gentleman at my Starbucks every morning.  My preference would be to bury my head in my computer and headphones instead of talking to him.  My struggle with the discipline to care for him brought to mind a post  from last year…

Tomorrow John and I are leaving to go to Sri Lanka, off the coast of India (yes, I had to check).  He for a World Vision Board meeting.  Me, to support him in his Board-dom and see more of God’s world and work.

The amount of travel I get to do is a privilege I don’t take lightly.  I’m blessed, but I told the girls it doesn’t bode well for me that one of the first things I read about Sri Lanka is that they have 84 different kinds of snakes, but not to worry because not that many are poisonous.

hate snakes.  I mean really.  Me and Indiana Jones.

So, Sri Lanka has that against it.  And it’s like a million hours on three flights to get there which I could live without.

But, I’ve been thinking.  Discomfort and snakes aside, in many ways it’s easier for me to go across the world and build relational bridges to folks in Sri Lanka, than it is for me to go across the street and build a bridge to my neighbors who smoke and have loud parties and yell at their kids.

Continue reading

Persevering through Partway to Somewhere

This is not a post about running.  Not exactly.

But it starts there, so bear with me.

The hardest point in my runs (read: slow slog) these days is between mile 2.5 and 3.  After the newness of the run has worn off and before I’m in any kind of comfortable (read: muscle numbing) rhythm.  Way before the end is in sight.  And let’s not even talk about the possibility of the “runner’s high”.  That’s a cruel myth perpetuated by sadistic marathoners to make the rest of us feel like failures.

IMG_4179

This is the point that is the most uncomfortable.  When I most want to stop.  When the voices taunting “This is STUPID!” are the loudest.

Instead of “I-think-I-can-I-think-I-can” on repeat in my brain it’s “I’m-gonna-die-I’m-gonna-die”.

Continue reading

What do you do with Jesus on the Corner, part 2

I think we’ve been getting better these days at being honest about the ugliness and selfishness and failures in our lives.  We call it authenticity and we put a high value on it.

In the past we’ve been better at just showing our shiny side and talking a good game.  So now we make a big deal about how much we fall short.  And it’s really good that we know that we’re all in this screw up boat together.

I’m comfortable sharing my failures.  There’s a lot of material there!  But I think we also need to be honest about those tiny moments of grace and small wins.  We need to say “Look!  With God’s help we can do this!”

Wednesday I shared my recent experience driving by a homeless woman and the fears that went through my head as I did.  I didn’t stop.  I want to be honest about the many times I’ve let Jesus down.

But last winter there was a different Jesus on the corner.  I was in Florida and it was early morning.  I was riding my bike to Starbucks as the sun came up pink over the palms and the boats moored in the harbor.

Continue reading

What do you do with Jesus on the Corner?

I caught just a glimpse of Jesus as I turned right from the exit ramp off the highway and onto Excelsior Boulevard Sunday afternoon.

But He looked like a she.  She was young and round and sweating in the hot summer sun; holding a sign that said “Pregnant and Homeless”.

Only, apparently she hadn’t taken “Homelessness 101” because she wasn’t standing in the “right” spot where homeless  folks camp – the spot where cars have to stop and it’s easy to hand something out the window.

Continue reading

Holding my Breath

It’s summertime, which for me conjures up memories of being at the Lake House with my cousins, perpetually in a wet swim suit, rarely out of the lake.  One of the many games we would play was “who-can-hold-their-breath-longest-without-dying”.

Ok, it wasn’t a real active game, but you know…simple pleasures.  And nobody actually died so our parents considered it a win.

Sometimes without even thinking about it, we play life like this  “who-can-hold-their-breath-longest-without-dying” game.

I don’t write much about Sabbath.  And I’ve never written about Selah.  But as I’ve started running, I’ve become much more aware of the importance of rhythm and rest, and basics. Like breathing.  And not holding our breath til we pass out.

Selah is a term used mostly in the Psalms and a few times in Habbakuk that is a bit of a mystery.  Scholars aren’t positive what it means, but they think it means “rest” or “pause”.

Mark Batterson says, like in music, if Sabbath is a full rest, maybe Selah is a sixteenth rest.  A chance to catch your breath.

Or maybe Selah is the life jacket that helps us pop up above the water of everyday stress.

lake2

If, as Eugene Peterson says, Sabbath is a day of “shutting down and shutting up.” maybe Selah moments are those in your day where you stop to think about breathing.  Reorient, and remember that you’re not in control, but you know the One who is.

Through history, some have been intentional about this by “praying the hours”.

But even if you don’t pray the hours, maybe Selah is a chance to

  • Let go.  Unclench your hands and surrender to the one who is God since we are not.  I have to pray the Welcoming Prayer as a reminder to myself:  “Holy Spirit, I let go of my need for approval.  Welcome.  I let go of my need for power and control.  Welcome.  I let go of my need to change any person, circumstance or emotion.  Welcome.”
  • Look. “Look at the birds of the air…” Pay attention to the miracles all around.   I’m trying to be disciplined in stopping, standing still outside and looking around, praying:  “Creator God, thank you for…”

556272_10150907827373701_692168700_9784065_117105065_n

  • Listen.  Our speaking comes out of our listening.  What we say comes out of what we hear.  We can pray: “Lord, what do you have to say to me about Yourself and myself today?”  Listen to words about God’s character in Psalm 46 where Selah is written in the margin in most translations after verse 3.

Mark Buchanan put it this way: When we don’t rest we’re in danger of letting ourselves be “consumed by the things that feed the ego but starve the soul.

Stopping to breathe in the goodness and sufficiency of God gives oxygen to our souls.

Selah.

You don’t have to hold your breath all day.  Consider setting an alarm on your phone to remind you to stop and breathe.

What does Selah look like for you?

IMG_3910IMG_4186IMG_2307IMG_1025IMG_0845

The Fear of Saying “No”

About a year ago I received an invitation to do something new and scary that would be an adventure. Teaching pastors in rural Africa.  Stretching.  Hard.  Solo.

I had been asking God for invitations, so my first thought was “I need to say ‘yes’.  Jesus followers always say “yes” to invitations to serve those in need, right?

But several details about this ask caused me to pause and ask for time to pray about  it before answering.

I prayed honestly and intensely about this offer for over six months.  I felt torn.  There were specific reasons God brought to mind that led me to believe I should say “no”, but along the way I kept asking, “If I say ‘no’ is it You, or is it really because I’m afraid of taking this risk?”

And “Isn’t God’s will always the hardest thing?”

It was difficult to send the final email saying “Thank you, but no”.

I was afraid of letting down people who needed help.

I was afraid of letting God down.

I was afraid of making a decision that would close all future doors.

If I turned this down maybe I’d discover how dispensable I really am.

As counter as it was to my initial reaction, and as hard as it was, I felt led to say “no” for now.

And then, last night, as I walked into our quiet house alone, out of “nowhere” as clear as everything real, God whispered, “You don’t need to go to Kitale.  I love you.  Period.”

You don’t need to be afraid.

What scares you most about saying “no”?

OneWord2013_Fearless

Praying (“real quick”)

Before a sermon.  At the end of a sermon.  At the end of a worship service.  At the beginning of a meeting.  Before a meal.

I hear it all the time.

It happened twice last night at the worship service I attended. The pastor said,  “Before we dive in/close/eat/you-fill-in-the-blank/ let me pray real quick.”

Why do you think that’s gotten to be a thing?

Continue reading

A Birthday, a Wedding, and Who You Really Are

May 18th my mom turned 80.  May 26th our daughter Maggie got married.

Two milestones for two amazing women within eight days.

DSC00133

You would never know my mom is 80.  It’s a little demoralizing when we’re out together and people think we’re friends instead of mother and daughter.  She classy and spunky and fun and fashionable.  In short, she is remarkable.  And she has a remarkable relationship with both our daughters.

She just finished making 407 cake pops for Maggie’s wedding, ordering flowers,  overseeing a team creating 60 flower arrangements, and creating centerpieces.

That, and Maggie’s been known to borrow her shoes.  Yeah, she’s got game.

But the two things that are most inspiring about her are that she’s always available and she loves me unconditionally.  I know, I know, she’s my mom, and it’s part of her job, but wow, she does it better than anyone I know.

We were disciplined as kids, but I don’t ever remember her criticizing us. Her trust in us and her belief that we would choose well was powerful.

She always believes the best.  I don’t mean she is blind to our faults.  But if I was convicted of bank robbery I’m sure she’d visit me every day with her famous brownies.

She wouldn’t talk about how wrong I was to rob the bank.  Instead she’d talk about how great I looked in my orange jump suit, and how she was sure I would be the friendliest person in the clink.  She would be confident that I’d be the next Chuck Colson, turning it all around for good.

You would think with all this good lovin’ I’d be super secure in my identity as a beloved child of God – the truest thing about me and you.  The one thing that can never change.  In spite of this, a million people and circumstances every day try to tell me and you differently.

Continue reading

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2026 Laura Crosby

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑