Laura Crosby

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Sheep and the most Important Word

March 19, 2012 /

My family says I’m sheep-obsessed.

I’ve always been a sheep girl.  I love the image of God as our shepherd in the Bible – patiently, gently taking care of us clumsy, clueless, grace-dependent, but usually well-meaning lumpy messes.

My family gives me a hard time because I’ve been known to chase sheep on several continents trying to get a good picture of, say “British sheep” as opposed to “Guatemalan sheep”.  Last week outside Bethlehem I got this picture of what I called “Christmas sheep”.

Although the land is all built up with Israeli settlements, as I looked over the hills surrounding Bethlehem, it was easy to picture THE real shepherds two thousand years ago on Christmas eve in the quiet night, looking up at the same stars that blanket us today.

It made me think of a sermon I heard years ago on the Twenty-third Psalm.  It really stuck with me, which is the mark of a good sermon, isn’t it?

Actually it was only on the first 5 words of the Psalm.  The speaker, Max Lucado challenged listeners to choose which one of these words was their favorite…which was most important to them.

The (not “Some”, not “A”, not “one of many” )

Lord (The word used here is a verb – ACTIVE!  The same word for Lord used with Moses – I AM)

is (present tense, not just “was” or “will be”)

my (personal!! not just “David’s” or “Paul’s” or “Billy Graham’s”)

shepherd (present, caring, and responsible for sheep 24/7.  Sheep are totally dependent)

So, this morning, jet-lagged and just home from a long, intense trip, I’m thankful for a Shepherd-God who gently carries me.

What’s the most important word for you?

Which word would you choose as your favorite today?

How to Run with the Unforced Rhythm of Grace

March 16, 2012 /

When I started this blog we instituted “Spirit Stretch Fridays” (thanks to daughter Maggie) with the idea that the post on Fridays would be about potential spiritual practices.  Thinking outside the box a bit.  I usually imagine most people are way down the road on this, but last fall I helped facilitate an online class for people in ministry called Soul Care.  At the end we took a poll and asked, “Before this class, did you regularly incorporate spiritual practices into your everyday life?”  Only 20% responded “Yes”.  And that was people in the ministry!  All that to say that recently I was asked to write an article on this topic for our church magazine and thought maybe it was worth posting here too. Sorry it’s a bit longer than usual.  

Our daughter Katy has been training to run a half-marathon.  This should really be illegal in our family because although we’re athletic, we don’t run.  It’s kind of been a rule of family solidarity.  She’s totally breaking it.

The biggest part of me is feeling proud and impressed, but a small corner of me also feels more inadequate than ever.  This is something I just don’t think I can do.  I’m not a RUNNER.  Or even a runner.

But Katy wasn’t either.  Til one day she tied up her shoes and put one foot in front of the other.  For two blocks.  And then a mile.  And then three….and then 13.1 miles.

And in the process she’s learned that to be a runner, you have to run.  You have to make it a part of your everyday life.

She learned that there are benefits to running by yourself, but it’s also helpful to have the company and accountability of others, so a couple of days a week she runs with a group of friends who are training for the same race and they tell each other their goals, and their successes and complain about sore muscles.  And that helps.

She’s found routes she really liked to run, and times of the day that were better than others.  And that helps too.

If, five months ago, someone had shown up on Katy’s doorstep and told her they had signed her up to run a marathon, she would have said “You’re crazy.”  She couldn’t achieve that by just trying.  She had to go into training.  No one drifts into becoming a marathoner.

And no one just drifts into spiritual maturity.  Enter the integrated life of training with Jesus.  Enter spiritual practices.

Twenty years ago I was a Christian.  I had a “quiet time” set aside during the day to pray and read my Bible, but that was about it.  Nice and neat and compartmentalized.         Boom. Done.

But then I read John Ortberg’s book The Life You’ve Always Wanted and a whole new way of viewing my relationship with Jesus opened up to me.  Like someone discovering a runner’s high, I found that as I thought outside the box and integrated training practices into my everyday life, my relationship with Jesus deepened.

And everything “counted”.  Even little things made a difference.  Not just the dramatic “burning bush” experiences, and not just the half hour set aside for devotions, and not just the times I seemed to get it “right” for a second or two.  Every moment of the day became a chance to live more of the “with Jesus” life.

An ongoing conversation with God, or praying for strangers I encounter through the day seems to grow compassion a smidge in my selfish soul and make me aware of grace.

Journaling or looking back over my day, noticing the times when I turned towards and when I turned away from God is a spiritual habit that’s like looking in a mirror and noticing my hair needs combing or I have a smudge of mascara that needs a little cleanup.

And purposely getting in the longest line or slowest lane is a spiritual practice that I’m still hoping is forming patience in my hurried heart.

I pray that engaging in secret acts of service helps me let go of my need for approval from anyone other than God.

Celebration.  Rest.  Silence.  A life lived more like Jesus.  Step by tiny step.  I stumble a lot.

I am not a  natural runner.  And I’m not setting any speed records.  And my gait is a little awkward.  There are “ugly run” days.  But the race of faith is a marathon and I want to cross the finish line finally with the “unforced rhythm of grace.”  And that’s only going to happen if I tie my shoes and put one foot in front of the other today.

What’s your training experience been like?

The Secret to being a Missionary Like Paul

March 13, 2012 /

I’m sitting in an apartment in Amman Jordan at 11:00 at night, a stuffed-up-sneezy-coughy-achy-in-my-chest-I-want-to-be-home-cranky-pants.  I’m on information overload, and if it’s possible for an extrovert, I’m peopled out.  I can’t take one more new foreign name or story or one more explanation of why this people group hates that people group.  I am feeling like the worst missionary ever.

And I’m wondering…did Paul ever feel like this?

Of course he did! (And he didn’t have running water.  Not to mention a few stonings and a shipwreck or two)

I’m thinking if Paul was in my place he would be reminding himself of what he wrote to the Philippians.  “…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”

And if he was me, one of the people who would come to mind would be Daoud, a Palestinian Christian whose family has owned the land on top of this hill for generations.

Fortunately he has the deeds to prove it. Israelis have taken the land on all the hills surrounding him and have made five settlements there, doing everything they can to squeeze him out.  Pulling up his olive trees, putting boulders across his road…

And I’m sure Daoud struggles with the injustice, but instead of asking “Why?” he asks “How?”

How would Jesus have me respond?

And this is his answer.

They refuse to be enemies.  They will welcome anyone.  They will abide by the law.  They will pray for peace.

Whatever is admirable, excellent, or praiseworthy…think about these things.

Drawing lines…and crossing them

March 12, 2012 /

When I was growing up we took a cross-country family vacation every year.  Mom and Dad in the front seat with Mom in charge of snacks and Dad in charge of car games.  Like Alphabet and Twenty Questions.

In the back seat were me and my two brothers, Cris and David and we were in charge of…Well, let’s just say we were in charge of surviving the road trip without killing each other.  We were kids, so to that end we would draw imaginary lines across which the sibling sitting next to us couldn’t cross.  With a toe or an elbow or a pinky.  We each had our own 3’x3′ “kingdom”.  Only kids would do that, right?

Not so much.

We’re still traveling in the Middle East and a theme seems to be line drawing.

Thursday night, John and I had Turkish coffee with a Muslim refugee family who have been living since 1948 in the U.N. refugee camp next to our hotel.  Their home looks much like a simple apartment except for the fact that they still have the key to the home they had to flee.  After coffee the father walked us through the darkened streets, showing us the different places where friends and family had been killed, one shot by a sniper shooting from the roof of the hotel where we were staying just a block away.  A line has been drawn between refugees and Israeli settlers.

Saturday night we celebrated a Shabbat service with a Jewish community to welcome in the Sabbath.  The women had to sit separate from the men, a line and a partition down the middle of the worship space.  On the other side the men recited prayers and danced and sang while we women felt a bit like marginalized on-lookers.  A line between men and women.

Yesterday morning we visited the Old City of Jerusalem, again divided by lines – the Muslim Quarter, the Jewish Quarter, the Armenian Quarter, the Christian Quarter.

And within the old city there’s the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, commemorating where Jesus  was crucified.  It too is divided and certain religions can only worship at certain times.  There were so many crowds of people, shoulder to shoulder, shuffling along, jostling for a place to get close to a “holy site”.  And I kept thinking of Isaiah 53:6 – “We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us to his own way…”

But then after all these lines, there was Nadia, who we met after driving to the border of Jordan.  A border with six distinct lines, each with a different requirement we had to fulfill before we could move to the next one.  I half expected them to say “Now do the Hokey Pokey and turn yourself around, cuz that’s what it’s all about!!”, but these guys definitely weren’t playing games when a guard raised his gun to John who tried to walk where he shouldn’t.

Nadia is a Muslim Israeli from Nazareth who spends one whole day every week traveling and crossing the border so she can attend school the following day in Jordan, working towards her doctorate.  She crossed every line – religious, cultural, language, and nationality to reach out to us and gently guide us through each step of the crossing, including paying for the cab we were required to take the last 100 yards.

Nadia got me to thinking about the lines we drew as kids and those we draw as adults.  Or just miss seeing.  Invisible lines I may be neglecting to cross, even out of apathy.

Am I actively watching with Jesus, for the foreigner, or the outcast so that I can cross lines like He did instead of drawing them?  What about you?

Love Wins

March 10, 2012 /

I’ve already admitted what an idiot I am when it comes to having any concept of the problems in the Middle East and honestly, if I read the words “Middle East” in a blog post a month ago my eyes would probably have glazed over with boredom and I would have moved on to something more interesting…like Downton Abbey or Anne Lammott’s new book.  But in talking to some of the folks traveling with me, I’m relieved to discover I wouldn’t have been the only one.

There are so many basics that I (and many others) just did not comprehend.  I needed a coach to say “This is a football.”  You know… get that simple.  So maybe you’re like me a month ago and you’ve already stopped reading, but in case you haven’t, I want to tell you one thing.

There are walls everywhere here, separating Jews from Palestinians…people who say they love God.

I’d love to tell some stories of people who have been impacted by the walls, but today, I thought I’d just share some pictures and let them tell the stories.

And then, this is what I read this morning…

“For He Himself is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by abolishing in His flesh the law with its commandments and regulations.  His purpose was to create in Himself one new man out of the two, thus making peace and in His one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross by which He put to death their hostility.  He came and preached peace to you who are far away and peace to those who were near.  For through Him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit.” Ephesians 3:14-18

Why Christ is at the Checkpoint

March 8, 2012 /

As I write this I’m sitting in Bethlehem, as in “Oh little town of…” in Palestine.

My husband John and I are here for a conference called Christ at the Checkpoint, a gathering of Palestinian and Israeli Christians trying to pursue peace.

Confession:  I am an idiot when it comes to the politics of the Middle East.  I’m just trying to keep my head down, my ears open, and my mouth closed.  I want to learn all I can and I figure it will be a win if I don’t inadvertently cause an international crisis.

There are people from all over the world here.

In our devotional time yesterday the speaker asked us to turn to the person next to us and guess how many churches are represented.  I guessed 50.

The answer?  One.

And one of the most powerful experiences for me?  Singing How Great Thou Art.

In English.  In Arabic.  In harmony.  Simultaneously.

It’s one thing to sing together.

But here in Israel it’s something very different to actually live together in a place where there is deep pain and misunderstanding and anger and injustice between Palestinians and Israelis.

Both literally and figuratively this is represented by walls and checkpoints separating people who say they love God.

Let me tell you about a new friend I met the other day.  Charlie and his wife have two children, and are expecting their third child next month.  You would think that would be a great thing.  And it is!

But…  It’s also complicated, and very hard for me to understand.

You see Charlie is a Palestinian Christian living with his family in Bethlehem.  So that his child can have the privilege of Israeli citizenship, Charlie’s wife needs to deliver their baby in Jerusalem, just a few miles away.  But for that to happen, Charlie and his wife will have to wait at the checkpoint at the wall that separates  Bethlehem from Jerusalem.  Separates Palestinians from Israelis. Jews and Christians and Muslims, separated by one of many walls and checkpoints dividing the land.

The guards at the wall have been known to keep women who are in labor waiting until they deliver their baby at the checkpoint (some stillborn with out a doctor).  Because they can.  They are the ones with power at this point in history and they can.

Hurting people hurt people as they say.  Those who have been the most oppressed are often the worst oppressors.

And I keep thinking of my friend Sherrie, whose baby shower I went to the day before I flew here.  Sherrie, who is due at the same time as my new friend, will zip down the Crosstown with her husband to Southdale Hospital in about 10 minutes.

No walls.  No checkpoints.  No guns. 

Two pregnant women in different worlds.  This is a very small example of a huge reality of walls and division.

In this different world, Palestinians who have to go to work in Jerusalem line up every morning at many checkpoints, sometimes coming as early as 3 a.m. to wait for hours, and hours, enduring humiliation, treated as second-class citizens.  Trying to get to work to support their families.  It’s not fair.  But then nothing much seems fair for anyone here.

Here’s what my small brain can take in:

It’s about us’s and them’s.  Power and weakness.  Gain and loss.  History and violence and land.

The Palestinians have been mistreated by the Israelis.

The Jews have been mistreated by the Arabs.

Muslims, Christians, and Jews have ALL behaved badly.

At the end of the devotional study the other morning, John Ortberg made this observation:  Jesus’ categories weren’t “us” vs. “them”.  They were “holy” vs. “sinful” and we’re all sinful so He “crossed over” to our side to save us.  All of us.

And as true as that is, it’s still not nice or neat or in any way “easy.”  I really don’t understand so much of this.  And even those who do understand a little more than me recognize this is a God-sized problem.

When I asked Charlie if his NGO had hired any Israeli Christians his face registered pain and he said, “No, not yet.  But someday.”  Christians working through pain towards reconciliation…a God-sized problem.

Shane Claiborne had a great line in his talk the other day:  When injustice has a name, it comes with responsibility.  Now you know Charlie’s name.

Will you please pray with me for God’s peace in this place and in all the places where you are experiencing walls of division and injustice?

What Dentures and Buses may have to do with Hospitality

March 5, 2012 /

People say I have the gift of hospitality, but I once put a cup of salt, instead of teaspoon of salt, into a batch of boiling noodles for lasagna so clearly it can’t be about gourmet cooking.  I also once totally forgot that we had invited six people for dinner, so hospitality apparently doesn’t hinge on attention to details.  Instead, I would agree with someone I heard recently who said, “Hospitality is inviting heaven into the house”.

Actually I’d expand that to say, “Hospitality is inviting heaven into the house…the bus, the office…the coffee shop…the airplane…the parking lot.”  And I know many people who do that much better than I do.

Awhile back, John told a story in a sermon about a mentor of ours.  For a season, Gordon and Gail MacDonald were pastoring in New York City.  They befriended some city bus drivers who were Christ-followers, but felt they didn’t have an environment for ministry.  Gordon pushed back and suggested:

“Why don’t you start up your buses each morning and, while the engine is warming, walk down the aisle of the bus and shout, ‘In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, I declare this bus to be a sanctuary where passengers will experience something of the love of Christ through me.’ You can be a pastor in your own sanctuary.”

The bus drivers took his suggestion and experienced a transformation of perspective on their everyday life.  Suddenly their buses were a safe place where they were aware God was present and welcoming.

The next morning, Monday, when John and I walked into Starbucks, Libby, our friend and barista smiled big and said “Welcome to my sanctuary!!”  And it IS, because Libby welcomes people with the eyes of Jesus.

A few weeks ago I was on a flight, sitting next to a man with Dementia who lost his upper dentures during the flight and insisted that they were in one of the seat pockets.  I believe the flight attendant who patiently, calmly searched each seat pocket for this confused guy’s dentures had the gift of hospitality.  Jesus would have done that.  She brought a bit of heaven into a long flight.  This elderly gentleman felt welcomed and cared for, teeth or no teeth.

A friend of ours for years has directed traffic at our church.  Rain, snow, sun.  He’s the most welcoming guy I know.  Smiling, gracious, the first face people see when they enter our parking lot.  A slice of heaven in the parking lot.

Then there’s my friend who recently gutted her condo and remodeled.  When the walls were stripped, before new paneling and paint she took colored markers and wrote scripture and prayers all over the walls along with encouraging notes to the workmen.  She was saying, “Welcome to my sanctuary.”

Right now, we are traveling in the Middle East – a place known for both hospitality and violence.  What if Arab and Israeli, Muslim and Jew alike could look each other in the eye and, with open arms, say “Welcome to my sanctuary”?

Welcome, Jesus.  May each place we set our feet today be a sanctuary, a piece of heaven on earth.

Where is your sanctuary today?

One thing Jesus never did?

March 2, 2012 /
Last year we had a fantastic guest speaker at our church.
According to an informal survey he took, most people don’t like journaling.  And they are relieved when they are assured that Jesus never journalled.

We want to be like Jesus, and Jesus didn’t journal so that’s one less thing we need to feel guilty about.

But as someone who likes to journal, I want to say “Hey!  Wait a minute!  How do we KNOW He didn’t journal?  After all, the Bible never says “Jesus sang.”  Or danced.  But maybe He did!

Maybe He was a CLOSET JOURNALLER !!  Maybe He LOVED journaling!

Honestly, does it really matter if He did or He didn’t?                                                               I think what matters is the value beneath it.

Journaling is just a tool like other things that help us lead an examined life…help us pay attention the work of God in our lives…Help us ask “Lord what do you want to show me about Yourself and myself?”

Journaling may not be necessary for an examined life, but what is?                              Space?  Attention?

Maybe Jesus never journalled, but I look at the time He had walking or boating with the disciples from one town to another…

the time for reflection,

conversations,

questions,

the time carved out to be alone and pray…

That makes me think that even IF He didn’t journal, making time to process life with His Father and others was still a priority.

Maybe some days I need to put away my journal in order to be less self- absorbed, and maybe some days I need to force myself to pick up a pen and examine some of the not-so-lovely truths God wants me to see.

Do you like to journal or hate it?  Or are there other practices you use to pay attention to the work of God in your life?

Psalm 26:2,3.  Test me Lord and try me, examine my heart and my mind.  For I have been mindful of your unfailing love and have lived in reliance on your faithfulness.

Three Ideas for Dealing with Mice, Comparison, and Ugly Thoughts

February 29, 2012 /

I see myself as a pretty darn adventurous person.  I love a challenge.  I’ll go anywhere in the world and I’ve eaten fried catipillars.  Daughter Maggie and I were finalists to compete in the Amazing Race last year.  And I want my second career to be as a spy, for which I’ve already prepared by spending hours at the Spy Museum in D.C. and doing a simulation bomb location exercise.  Learning to hot wire a car is on my bucket list.  I’m just sayin’…I think I’ve got some game.

But, there are two things I don’t do.

Snakes and mice.

I’d jump out of an airplane if I had to, but look at, much less empty, a mouse trap?  No way.  Fortunately this has not been an issue as we have not had mice to deal with.  Until we got home from vacation this week and discovered evidence of one in a kitchen drawer.  Nowhere else (and believe me I went over the house with a magnifying glass, inspecting any tiny piece of lint to make sure it wasn’t a mouse dropping).

Anyway, we set out multiple traps in the kitchen around and in said drawer.  The next morning I left John a bazillion notes reminding him to check and deal with any corpse that might have appeared and I carefully skirted around the kitchen with my eyes averted from anything close to the killing field.

It’s not like I wasn’t aware there might be carnage.  I just didn’t want to face it.  To deal with the ugliness.

Recently I referred to a message I had listened to about comparison that Andy Stanley preached and I was forced to face a mouse corpse.  He talked about the land of “er” and “est” where when we compare and don’t measure up we either hate the other person or hate ourselves.  Near the end, he asked a question :

“Is there anyone you would secretly be glad to see fail?”

It totally rocked me because immediately two people from different parts of my life, who I haven’t thought about in awhile came to mind!  No, no one reading this (honest).  And before you get sidetracked and all judgmental, ask yourself that question.

It freaked me out. “Why?” I asked myself.  “Is this born out of comparison?  Competition?  Insecurity?” And “What do I do with this? (Besides confess it and ask God to change my heart).  It was a very ugly mouse corpse I couldn’t avert my eyes from.

The first step for us in catching the mice was facing the evidence.  Acknowledging they were there.  I was ticked at Andy for asking the question that made me even admit the sin in me, but once I realized the truth I couldn’t just leave a drawer full of “mouse poop.”

The second step has been figuring out how it got in.  For my “mouse” I’ve been asking the questions above and have realized they definitely squeezed in through the door of pride and comparison, but it’s also complicated by the pain that comes when someone succeeds at your expense or hurts you personally while getting what they want.  Perhaps this mouse snuck in in the moments when I wasn’t vigilant about living out of the security of God’s lavish love and delight in me…confidence in His win/win power to bring about good no matter what.

The third step has been killing the mice and, most importantly getting rid of the dead corpses.  I’m fine with steps one and two, but this one….?  Could I please just jump out of an airplane?

Instead I picture both of the people who came to mind.  This morning I read, “Have mercy on me, my God, have mercy on me, for in you I take refuge.  I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings.”

I picture the three of us, together, huddled beneath God’s wings.  His beloved children, all three of us dependent…taking refuge in His mercy.  I am truly moved by this image as I sit with it.  It helps me.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”

Is there anyone you would secretly be glad to see fail?                                            

Are there ways that have been helpful to you in facing and dealing with the mouse corpses in your life?

Three Challenges of Authenticity and Grace

February 27, 2012 /

The other day I made a confession here on the blog and then wrote, “There, now you know what a truly horrible, small-minded person I am.”  I meant it.  It was something I was embarrassed to admit.  And I truly want to change…but not always.

Authenticity.  It’s a high value these days.  It’s one of the core values of this blog.  And that’s a good thing mostly, I think.  For awhile, we as Christians were trained to pretend to “Look like Jesus” no matter how much we weren’t.  But then came a rash of young leaders who called us on it and it became cool to be authentic.  To be honest and specific about the ways we are a broken hot mess.

That in itself is a good thing, right?  But there are also some challenges at the intersection of grace and authenticity I think.

1.  Authenticity.  For some of us it’s hard to get to the starting line.  The challenge is finding relationships…community, if you will, where we can truly be honest about who we are…the good, the bad, the ugly.  It’s the risky challenge of just being willing to say, “Here’s my mess.”

2.  Grace.  For others, we can be brutally honest about our weaknesses, our failures, but the challenge is really knowing God’s grace to the core of our being…Knowing that nothing we do can ever make God love us more or less than He does right now.  The hard thing is owning our sin, but not wallowing in our worminess.

3.  Change.  This is one that I fear I have to be aware of.  It’s wearing our authenticity as a badge of honor and stopping there.  Awhile ago I heard a preacher speak and he was very vulnerable.  You could almost hear the inaudible admiration from the people listening…”Oooh he’s so authentic!“  But here’s the thing…He didn’t go any further.  He expressed mild embarrassment, but is that repentance?  He told us what he had done, but not what he was doing to change.  

It was like what he was doing was what I often do: image management.  “Confess” something safe, but make it so common that it falls in the category of “acceptable sin” that no one would really expect us to change.

Yesterday morning in church we did a spiritual inventory that we take every year, kind of like a physical check up but you don’t have to get into one of those white paper gowns and no one gets to see your weight (or the answers on your inventory).

At the end there were two areas where I was noticeably weaker than the others.   The thing is, I looked at these two areas and it didn’t bother me all that much.  Is it possible to be too comfortable with being honest, and too secure in God’s love of me?

Psalm 52:1 says, “Why do you boast of evil…?  Why do you boast all day long, you who are a disgrace in the eyes of God?”  The other day, I read this verse and I thought “Aha!  Is this what we’re doing sometimes?”

Our righteousness IS as filthy rags, BUT God throws our sins as far as the east is from the west when we come to Him AND calls us to be holy as He is holy.  All of this in the same Bible!  How can we get this straight?  That we are both broken and beloved at the same time.  And God loves us too much to want us to remain the way we are.

I believe we are to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep, but not just over things like our dog dying or our mother-in-law’s car wreck.  I think we’re to be truly honest about the darkness in our lives, but truly sorry too, and truly committed to doing better and finding ways to help each other together.

The good news, as always, is that we’re not in it alone and we can’t do it alone.  “He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.”

Which of the three challenges above do you struggle with the most? Authenticity, grace, change?  Or other thoughts? 

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