Laura Crosby

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What are you giving up for Lent? Or are you giving up Lent?

February 24, 2012 /

As I mentioned the other day, we’re on vacation in Florida and the other morning we decided to attend an Ash Wednesday service at a lovely little Episcopal Chapel near where we’re staying.

I was on high alert from the moment we entered because I’m not Episcopalian and I was sure I was going to mess up and kneel at the wrong time, or not know the secret handshake that would get me communion, or ask forgiveness for my “debts” instead of my “trespasses”.

I took my cues from a girl across the aisle who clearly knew the liturgical ropes, bowing to the Bible when it went by and making the sign of the cross on her forehead, lips, and heart.  I was fascinated.

Like I said, I’m not Episcopalian and I’m not Catholic either, but by turns throughout my life I have been disdainful towards, curious about, and, in the past five years, enriched by many of  their practices.

When I was growing up all I knew was that the Catholic kids went to St. Petronille for church (named after a guy who must have been on the JV team of saints because I’ve never heard of him since and neither has my husband who did grow up Catholic).  They got to get out of school early on Wednesday to go to Catechism and got to eat fish on Friday.  We never had fish in my family.  So they were special and kind of mysterious to me.

On Wednesday, while I still struggled to own the words of liturgy in a way that was meaningful, I deeply appreciated the silence, the reverence, and the simplicity of a worship gathering full of Scripture.  These guys really do repentance big time!

Anyway, all this has got me thinking about Lent and the question many people ask, “What are you giving up for Lent?”

Confession:  As far as I can remember I’ve never given up anything for Lent.

It’s just not been a part of my spiritual tradition.  And frankly, when I have considered it I’ve always thought “Well I could give up Starbucks if I wanted to, but I don’t have to so I won’t.”  I am so not into sacrifice.  I realize this exposes one of the idols I daily pray to relinquish – the idol of comfort.  Ugh!

I know it’s easy to abuse this practice…make it a badge of honor, a “work of righteousness”, an end instead of a means.  But, I’ve been reading about it and I’m wondering if it might be a good spiritual practice for me, identifying with Jesus in some small way, this voluntary sacrifice stuff.  I’m cringing even as I write this.  I find myself thinking, “Could I pick something I like, but don’t like too much?  Kind of ease into this maybe?”

I know we’re past the kick-off time, but Jesus is all about grace, right?  So even though it wouldn’t be neat and tidy and legal, I could still start something I think.

I want to know… What has your experience been with giving up something for Lent?  Was it a meaningful discipline?

Couple quotes on Lent…

“Lenten disciplines help us to abstain from the daily distractions that prevent us from seeing and naming reality correctly. As we allow some of the external trappings of our lives to be stripped away, we can return to a truer sense of ourselves and a deeper pursuit of God.” Ruth Haley Barton

“Like going with Jesus into the wilderness for forty days, that we might come face to ugly face with our enemy.  Our sacrificing that we might become more like Christ in His sacrifice.”  Ann Voskamp

You’ve got this. Kind of.

February 22, 2012 /

A few weeks ago some gifted young women who live in another part of the country, asked me to sort of mentor them.  I haven’t heard from them recently so I think they may have come to their senses and realized this request was kind of like inviting Zacchaeus onto their basketball team.  But anyway, what went through my mind is exactly what has gone through my mind when others have graciously approached me with an invitation:

Wow.  I LOVE them!

I must be special!

Holy Buckets!  What do I have to give them?

What if they expect, you know, wise words whenever I open my mouth and I’ve got, like…NOTHING!?

What if I say I’ll do this and then they’re disappointed in me?  What if they decide I’m a Loser Mentor?

And then God whispers…

You’ve got this.  

Because really…you don’t.

But I do.

And that’s all that matters.

Listen to them.  Listen to Me.  Listen to them with Me and that will be enough.

Because I’m always more than enough.

This was a nice invitation.  However, there are many times when I question my adequacy because there hasn‘t been an invitation.  I don’t feel called, or challenged, or included in anything “significant”  But in those moments God whispers…

You’ve got this.  You’re chosen.  But not because you’re adequate, or even asked by others, but just available.  And I am with you.

And He brings to mind the story of the widow at Zaraphath in 1st Kings who had only a handful of flour and a little oil, preparing a last meal for herself and her son when the prophet Elijah showed up asking for one meal.  And then another, and another.

God’s word to her through Elijah is His word to me and you.  “…make a small loaf of bread from what you have…” And there was food for every day.

Just use what you have.  And I will make it so much more.  

Just respond to the small things I’ve put in your hands.  In front of you.  In your family.  In your neighborhood.  In your workplace.

You’ve got this when you realize that you don’t, because I do.

Where do you feel inadequate?  Where are you afraid you won’t have what is needed?

EGR People

February 20, 2012 /

We’ve been vacationing in Florida and I’ve come to a conclusion.  You’ve heard the the acronym, EGR?  Well, I’ve concluded that old people are EGR people.

Extra. Grace. Required.

They walk slowly.  And they walk slowly in the bike lane.  And they walk slowly in the bike lane going the wrong direction!  And the other day “they” were walking across a street in front of a line of cars trying to turn, and me on my bike waiting for them in the middle of an intersection and I smiled and said “Go ahead” cheerily as all of us waited and they tottered, oblivious to the traffic jam.

But here’s the thing… Even though I was all “no problem” smiley, I’m sure there must have been the tiniest edge to my voice because how I really felt was impatient and inconvenienced.  And, you know…”Out of the heart the mouth speaks…”  Ugh.  There, now you know what a truly horrible, small-minded person I am.

And then at different points during my day I thought, “Boy, kids require a lot of grace!”

And “Drivers require a lot of grace!”

And “John requires a lot of grace!”

And finally… “I require a lot of grace.”

I’m someone’s EGR person!

I wonder what tone of voice God has with all us EGR people?  What tone of voice does love have?  What tone does grace have?

How do I purify my heart so not only the words and actions are there, but the tone is the tone of Jesus’ voice too?  Lord have mercy.

I was doing a Bible study this week that reminded me “We love because He first loved us.”  And then we were asked to fill in the blank.  “I love __________  because God first loved me.”

I can be gracious only because God was first gracious to me.  When I made a wrong turn.  Or held up traffic.  Or cut someone off.  Or mowed someone down.  Or broke the law in a million ways.  When I turned to Him, He said, “Go ahead now” and the tone of His voice was pure love.

Today I’m trying to be patient and not mow down old people, thanking God for His infinite patience with me.

What’s your experience with the EGR people in your life?

A Blog, a Bomb, and a Book

February 17, 2012 /

As I write this we’re on vacation in my happiest place.  A place of fresh cut grass and warm breezes and colorful flowers and sand-between-my-toes that we’ve been blessed to enjoy for years thanks to some hospitable and gracious friends.

Anyway, vacation is a great time for me to catch up on podcasts and reading along with the fun of activity with great friends.  It’s Spirit Stretch Friday so I thought I’d share a few resources I’ve enjoyed this week.  Actually, maybe “enjoyed” isn’t entirely accurate.  In some cases “convicted” might be more accurate.  As I look at them they’re all kind of about coming up short. Maybe you’ll be able to relate.

The first is a fantastic blog post from Steven Furtick.  If you struggle with insecurity and doubts about yourself (and I think if you’re breathing you probably do), take a look at this and finish the devil’s sermons.

Along those same lines, Andy Stanley preached a great sermon titled, The Comparison Trap.  He talks 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.  Toward the end he asked a question that shook me to my core (That was the “bomb” of the post title.  More on that later).  Take a listen.

The last resource is a book I’ve been reading called Flunking Sainthood (A year of Breaking the Sabbath, Forgetting to Pray, and Still Loving my Neighbor).  This is a memoir by Jana Riess who writes about her year-long experiment of trying twelve spiritual practices – one a month.  I’m still in the middle of this and am not sure what I think about it as a whole, but Riess writes with delightful humor and some interesting insights.  While experimenting with Lectio Divina she reads all of the book of Mark all month because she doesn’t want to turn “Eat This Book  [Eugene Peterson’s book on Bible reading] into Eat This, Not That, picking and choosing only the loveliest passages that fit with my existing understanding of faith.”

Hope you find some good reminder from God in one of these and have a delightful weekend!

The one John wanted me to title “The Love Banker”

February 15, 2012 /

Friday morning John and I had a fight. A big fight. Well, not exactly a fight.

In case you didn’t know, John’s very competitive. (I am too. I’m the one telling the story so I don’t have to mention that, but I’m trying to be fair).

We were on the golf course and I thought John acted like a jerk and hurt my feelings and I got teary and after arguing about it we didn’t speak.

Towards the end of our round he said, “Do you have any ideas about how to get on the solution side of this?”

I said “No.” and that was that.

Ok, maybe it wasn’t my finest hour.

We went our separate ways and I talked to two of my best friends, both of whom said they didn’t know what the issue was, but they were on my side.

Totally. They were sure I was completely right and justified in my feelings and John deserved the worst punishment imaginable.

They are good friends.

I told them we were supposed to speak to engaged couples about how to have a happy marriage at a marriage mentor dinner at 6:00. Ugh.

My one friend said “You guys have the best marriage of anyone I know so I’m sure you’ll get it figured out by 6:00.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to get it figured out. What I really wanted to do was tell John he was on his own and he could go talk about marriage without me. (Again, not my finest hour)

John and I both ended up at home for lunch. I was silent. (my family’s way of dealing with conflict). He tried again. He apologized.

I said it was fine, but I still didn’t like him very much.

Later in the afternoon I was laying down on the couch in our living room staring at the ceiling and I started thinking about John, and our marriage, and a gift he got last Christmas.

 

. 

I thought of this bank that Katy and Maggie gave him. You push a coin through the slot in the top and there’s a digital counter that adds up the amount in the jar. John and the girls spent a chunk of Christmas day putting in coins and seeing the amount grow. Now it sits on a stand at our back door where John can add his change when he comes in. It’s about 3/4 full and registers $83.50

We’ve been married 34 years and John’s done a LOT to make deposits in our relationship.

I thought of all the ways he honors me, affirming me both publicly and privately. And more than that how he honors me by what he doesn’t say.

Example: He has never said “Gee, do you really think you should eat that ginormous 983 calorie dessert with 52 grams of fat?” (for which I’m eternally grateful)

Then I thought of how he serves me in so many little ways, like covering me with a blanket when we’re watching TV., or calling every day when he’s on his way home from work to see if I need anything at the store.

Over the years John has been a jerk once or twice. And I’ve been a jerk more often than that. Each time we’ve made withdrawals from our relational bank.

I’m thankful for the deposits we’ve made and the reserve that’s there. It all adds up…makes sense, and that’s the truth and it’s ok, but what about when it doesn’t?

In many relationships the withdrawals are greater than the deposits and God calls it grace.

Grace doesn’t add up. Doesn’t make sense. Grace doesn’t keep track of wrongs…or withdrawals.

God doesn’t keep track when John is thoughtless or I am selfish. His mercies are new every morning and the bank is always full.  There’s the math that counts and the math that doesn’t and in marriage, although the deposits that build trust are important, we’re dependent on the math that doesn’t count.

For that I am profoundly grateful.

So today, what mercies are you thanking God for?  How are you making deposits of loving service in the lives of those around you?

@$#&;;;!

February 13, 2012 /

I’m really nervous about posting this.  I’m afraid it may sound judgmental and may make people feel really cranky.  Others may be offended.  And it may not even be a relevant post to those of you reading this!  But I read an article in USA Today about a month ago that addresses something I’ve been pondering for awhile.  It talks about the trend in publishing (books, music, plays) to use profanity in the title.  The article says, “What used to be profane is becoming prevalent – and very profitable.”  Turns out that naming something “S— My Dad Says” makes the book sell more.  Go figure.

Not so surprising in secular culture I guess, but what about Christians?  As I’ve been reflecting on this,  it seems like even we as Christians can fall into several categories…

1.  The Hipster Christian.  Profanity is THE badge of cool.  The thing that says, “I can follow Jesus, but I’m just like you on the hip-o-meter.  I’m down with the f-word so don’t exclude me from your conversation.”  It’s more an intentional part of their persona than an occasional slip when they stub their toe.

2.  The Anti-Pharisee.  I am not a legalist.  Only the Pharisees would bother with language as an expression of devotion to Jesus.  It’s all about grace and I’m leaning into it.

3.  The Exceptional Christian.  Occasional crude language, like driving the speed limit, is my exception to the rules.  You have your exceptions, I have mine.

4.  The I’m a Jesus-follower.  I love Jesus, but not uptight Christians.  I care about what He cares about and that’s social justice.  Evangelist Tony Campolo told many audiences in the 1980s, “I have three things I’d like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don’t give a damn. Third, and worse is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said a swear word than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night.”

5. The Real World Christian. “This isn’t a big deal.  Let’s major on the majors and let this one go.” We have a good friend who came to Christ and designated himself our “S— F—- Guy”  He said he saw it as his job to loosen us up and keep us in touch with the “real” world.

I think people (like me!) are afraid to even bring this up for fear of being labeled a prude.  I grew up in a sheltered environment where we never heard any language considered even remotely objectionable.  As a result, it’s not what I think to say, except somehow on the golf course or tennis court (where it is always justified 🙂 ) which probably puts me in the “Exceptional Christian” category.  In any other context I’m probably more sensitive to crude language than most.

This issue came to mind in a different way the other day when I read an article about how our more and more casual dress in church is an indication that we don’t revere or have the awe and respect for God that we once did.  Dress.  Language.  Are these related?  Do they say something about our view of God?

I’m really interested in what you think about this!  Chime in in the comments!


The Spiritual Discipline of Plan B

February 10, 2012 /

Ice cubes.  6 small potatoes.  A get-well card.

Sometimes in line at the grocery store don’t you feel like the check-out folks are wondering, “What’s she really up to??”

In this case, each item represented “Plan B” on a day that screamed “I live a PLAN B LIFE!” in big and small ways.

  • The ice cubes were for our broken ice maker.
  • The potatoes for a recipe gone wrong.
  • The card for a friend having a double mastectomy.

But this was just a small glimpse of bigger realities of disappointments and losses that got me asking questions like:

  • Lord, why is everyone else always in control and why do I never get my way?  (Clearly no Theresa of Avila here!)
  • Where are You in this and what are You trying to teach me?  Submission?  Humility?  Trust in your redemptive power? (Could I have Door 2 instead please?)
  • Is there anyone not living a “Plan B” life?  (Hard for me to think of anyone, but then I didn’t really want to think about anyone else cuz this was all about ME!)
  • How did Your Bible guys handle Plan B’s?  (Moses, David, Abraham, Paul…wow, a lot of Plan B’s)

Somehow, the most important Plan B discipline for the Bible guys seemed to be leaning in.  Not understanding necessarily.  Not having 1-2-3 answers.  But having the faith to say, “I choose to believe in you, God, more than this disappointment.”

Perhaps the spiritual discipline of Plan B involves giving up the illusion of control…giving up trying to write our own story and letting God write His story through us.

Or this…One line stood out in my Bible reading yesterday morning…”Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?…How much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him?” (Mt.7)  I wonder how often God’s bread just looks like a stone to me because I think I know better than Him how my good gift should appear.  Part of the discipline of Plan B seems to be trusting in God’s goodness...His identity even when we can’t see or understand His activity.

Clearly I don’t have this figured out.  This is just me, wrestling with God after a Plan B day in a Plan B life.

I like to have a plan for everything.  And like all people, I like the plan to go my way.  Plan B is not my strong suit, but maybe it is actually my sweet spot (and yours), because it puts me where God wants me, needing to lean into Him.  For His grace.  His presence.  His power.  His understanding.

What’s your Plan B situation?  What are you learning in it about spiritual discipline?

A resource you might want to pick up if you’re struggling with this is Pete Wilson’s book titled Plan B!

Bubble Wrap and Three Responses to Criticism

February 8, 2012 /

This was a text I received from daughter Maggie awhile ago:

“This afternoon a man from the DC Legislature and Regulatory Services in the office next door reprimanded me for playing with bubble wrap too loudly.

BTW, You raised me.” 

Hmmm…Really.

This text raises so many questions.

The Jesus-y way people used to say this back in the day was “I rebuke thee!”  And it came with flames of fire, and lightning bolts.  Like Jason Bourne, Bruce Lee, and 007 doing their super hero moves in a whirlwind smack down of high kicks, karate chops, back flips and flying tackles.

Rebuking seems like the biblical free clobber card although these days it often comes under the guise of “doing a Matthew 18:15”.  If we’re honest, sometimes I think we can enjoy being the clobberer (or imagining it), but as the clobberee we usually we feel like we’re picking ourselves up off the matt, bruised and bloody after being called out.

A few weeks ago I was corrected loudly and publicly for a mistake I made.  Then later in the day I was scolded for something I wrote.  It felt like Simon Cowell had told me he had never heard anyone with less talent.  On national t.v.  Want-to-crawl-in-a-hole-pain-full.

We Christians don’t like making mistakes.  It’s so, you know…ungodly.

Once in awhile critique comes wrapped in love from those close to us, like Mr. Rogers putting his arm around us and gently saying “You messed up, but it’s ok.  We all do.  You’re still a part of the neighborhood.”

But more often it comes from a stranger and it feels like Mark Driscoll has put us on his “Jesus hates you” hit list.

All this bubble wrap stuff has made me think about the ways we usually respond to criticism or correction.

1.  We hold hoard it like an 80 year old grandma saving plastic baggies to reuse.  We let it define us.  Maggie could see herself forever as the “Bubble Wrap Bimbo.”  Let it drown out any affirmation.  Research shows that it typically takes 4 positive interactions with someone to offset one negative one.  We’re giving reprimands a lot of power!  Maggie might so focus on the rebuke that she’d miss the three other compliments on her creative bubble dance moves, her cat-like reflexes, and her innovative use of trash.

2.  We rebuke the rebuker.  Replay the conversation in our heads complete with witty original comebacks.  In these scenarios we always emerge righteous and are able to do an end-zone victory dance with moves like Victor Cruz in the Super Bowl while the other person begs forgiveness for being  SO wrong about us.  Victim turned Victor.

3.  We look for the truth, learn from it, and move on.  Borrrrring, you say?  Yeah, and it’s about as easy for me as competitors on the Amazing Race, sifting through the mud to come up with the prized Japanese frog.  But I’ve seen it done so I know it’s possible.

What might a frog from the mud text from Maggie to Regulatory Guy look like?

RG, Sorry the noise bothered u.  It was thoughtless of me not 2 tone it down, but bubble wrap is joy in plastic!  Next time I’ll invite u 2 join us in the dance.  Have a great day! 😉

Just recently Mark Batterson tweeted, “Criticism, even unfair criticism, can be a blessing in disguise. It keeps you humble.”                                                                              Great.  Thanks.  Yea for humility.

I’m trying.  End zone victory dance fantasies aside, my prayer this morning was, “Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.  Help me to hear the words of truth in each criticism aimed at me.  Let my words of correction always be few and seasoned with grace.”

What’s your most common reaction to criticism?  How do you handle it?

Me and Joe and the President

February 6, 2012 /

Do you ever feel like you’ve accidentally put on Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak?

A few months ago a couple of people made an appointment with me.  I didn’t know what their agenda was.  When we met all they did was ask me questions about a painful experience.

And then they listened.

And asked more questions.  And listened some more.

They asked, “and then what happened?” and “how did you feel?” and “oh no!” and “what can we do?” like it really made a difference to them.

And here’s the thing.  Yes, what was asked and answered was important, but the most transformative thing for our relationship was that when I walked away I didn’t feel invisible anymore.  It felt like I mattered.   What I thought, what I felt, the pain I had experienced made a difference to them.  Have you had an experience like this?

A few years ago my husband and I had the opportunity to spend some time with former President Clinton in a couple different contexts (no he would not remember my name!).  Regardless of what you think about his politics or his morals, here’s a man who makes people feel like they matter.

We were wrapping up an interview with him when he saw an African American guy with a saxophone that was about 189 years old in a back hallway.  Clinton got so excited asking this guy about the brand of sax he played, and the type he used to play, and the music he liked.  He laughed and they swapped sax stories and he asked questions and really listened.

Clinton was so present it was hard for his handlers to tear him away.  One of the most powerful men in the world.  And he was saying to this man, “I may be the president of the United States, but you matter too.”

This is Joe.

He’s a guy with Down’s Syndrome who has a great smile and a can-do spirit.  He’s the guy who sweeps the stairs at exactly the same time every morning at my health club.  When I first asked his name he looked scared, like he had done something wrong.

When I thank him each day for his great work he always looks a little surprised.  Today I took another step and asked him, “Joe, how long have you worked here?  Do you like your job?”

I’ve noticed Joe.  I’ve tried to let him know he matters.  But how many others do I miss during the day who are longing to be noticed?  Feeling like they’re accidentally wearing and invisibility cloak?

What if Jesus hadn’t looked up to see Zaccheus?  What if He hadn’t taken time to talk to the woman who touched the hem of His robe?

When is a time when someone made you feel like you mattered?  Who are the people you tend to overlook?  Who would feel affirmed if you asked a question and listened?

That Person

February 3, 2012 /

I’ve thought a lot about this.

If I ever become an actress (Don’t laugh.  It could happen!), and I have a scene where I have to cry on cue, no sweat.  I’ve got this one covered.  Not because I’m particularly weepy (I’m really not at all, you know).  But because all I’ll have to do is think of “that person.”

You know.  “That person”.

I’m betting you have one too.  The person who won’t forgive you.

Or the one you thought loved you, but then betrayed, or rejected, or ignored, or walked away from you.  Or the one who pronounced a judgment that you’ve let define you.

Or the child you love who is making destructive choices, far from Jesus and you can’t control them or fix it and your heart is breaking.

And all it takes is for you to hear a certain song that brings back memories, or drive by a place where you used to feel welcome, or to accidentally see them.  Or not at all.

Broken, broken, broken.

If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.  Romans 12:18

You’ve tried the Elmer’s glue of apologies, and prayer, and grace to mend things but they’re still unmoved.  Unresponsive.  They still don’t like you.  Or they don’t like Jesus.  Or they don’t like either of you.

Here’s my advice.  To myself.  And you if you want to try it.  A spiritual practice if you will.

Give up.  Give them up.  Give yourself up.

Hand them over.

Let go.

And breathe.

Breathe in.  “Abba Father.”

Breathe out.  “Do what only You can do…”

Heal.  Restore.  Illumine.  Woo.  Correct.

Give up.  Over and over again.

Who’s “that person” for you?  Who do you need to hand over?

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