Selling Books, Not My Soul

People who know me well know I grapple with this whole promotional Christian artist/writer/speaker world I find myself enveloped in. It seems I spend a lot of brain space wondering how to be and do what God has {dually} put breath in me to do and burned inside my heart…without getting caught up in the whole “author getting famous” deal that people claim has to go with it.

Trust me when I say: I hate anything that seems contrived, and often, that includes my view of ministry.

I was thinking about this today upon receiving an email from an old and dear friend. Her words touched my heart. They also jolted me back to a bit of spiritual reality, and caused me to remember something I find key in this whole ministry thing…

We can’t forget about people.

I know that some of you will be annoyed that I simplify it this way. It’s a repugnant thing to suggest to our fragile egos that we might (gasp!) possibly forget about anyone. But the very real risk in the rat race of self-promotion is that somewhere along the way, it could be the one thing that causes us to lose touch with our core mission. Not only can it happen, but often, it does.

Trust me, I get what has to be done to sell books. I’m just rebel enough to not want to sell my soul doing it.

Not everyone is contrived in this process. I’ve seen more than one ministry leader who has a healthy view of who they are and what they are called to spend their life doing. As a result, their authenticity is felt. The truth is, God doesn’t give a flying flip how many Twitter followers we have. (Even though I’m not too proud to admit that I’d like to have a few more, if I’m being completely honest.) What He wants to know is: have you helped me change someone’s life today by representing me well?

The results of the pursuit of spiritual authenticity are far richer than the pursuit of personal acknowledgment. May that thought be our compass and guide in the mad days of social media gone wild. If necessary, may we go back to the place we started, when our one core desire was simply to show the world Jesus. May we never forget about people, who are infinitely more than just a number to God.

May we help change someone’s life today by representing Him well.

Lips May Lie

I’ve been reading Psalm 78 this morning.

It’s talking about the children of Israel and how they treated God – the One who saved them from enslavement and their self-produced problems, stemming from their stubbornness and lack of remembrance for all He’d done to rescue them.

How familiar this is to me.

Verse 36 is where it really hurts, when it says:

“…they followed him only with their words…”

Often, I speak to women about how it is very possible to say things with our lips that we don’t really mean in our heart. We do this because many of us have been so programmed to speak Christian lingo that we forget when we’re talking to God that He sees right through it. He’s far more interested in the condition of our heart than hearing cheap talk that doesn’t last any longer than the moment it leaves our lips.

Yet still, we continue to try to say the right things to prove we are one of His. Others may believe it. But He knows the heart from where it comes.

Maybe our prayer today (and everyday) should be: “God, help me not say anything today I don’t mean. Close my mouth if what comes out will not be true and honest, especially when it comes to You.”

And if we wind up saying nothing at all, at least we will know that our words didn’t guide us into insincerity. I dare say a few fewer words won’t hurt any of us…especially when the ones that do come out will be ones that we really mean.

The awesome God of truth we say we follow deserves nothing less.

the Bubble

This story (click for link) is a hot one right now, in the Christian community. If you haven’t been living under a rock you may have heard about it.

I’ve been asked to weigh in on this subject, and I do so with a deep understanding that not everyone will love my response. Good thing I have busted out of my own churchy bubble just in time not to care.

Which brings me to what I believe the issue is at hand: the bubble many believers live in.

It’s what causes us not to see how we are coming across to others…and maybe not even worry about it. Of course, we would say that we do, because churchy people don’t admit to things like that. But actions always tell the true story.

I’m not here to debate what specific beefs Anne Rice has with the church. What I am here to do is to weigh in on my thoughts about her “ditching Christianity” as a whole.

Ironically, this is something I tackle in my new book with George Barna, out next year. In it, I ask women to do something many of them have ever considered: to separate their religion and tradition from Jesus, Himself. My theory (which has been proven true, many times over) is that if you don’t, when the church lets you down (and they will), you will begin to ask questions about God that you don’t need to. If He has been equated with all of your rituals and practices and you associate Him with the pastor who preaches love but practices something else, you will eventually want to ditch the whole gamut. In other words, God loses out because people don’t represent Him well. It happens all the time. Got scores of emails of personal stories in my inbox right now to prove it.

In addition to these testimonials, I’m a recovering church-aholic, myself…so I get it. I’ve seen it. Been on both sides. Lived in the bubble and watched it burst around me. Survived it and love Jesus more than I ever have. But that doesn’t mean I love the way believers hurt each other.

I don’t love the way we get angry when someone tells us the truth about who we often are. Or the way we respond to people when they don’t think like us. Or the way we tag people unfairly when they step a little too close to things we cling to like spiritual security blankets.

I find Jesus in none of that.

I’m no Anne Rice: a woman who probably lived many years without the tradition I was born into. I’m a former churchy girl who grew up in a very churchy world and in many ways, haven’t left. But do I want to be associated with those who speak His name but don’t bear His fruit? Absolutely no way.

I want to associate with the Jesus who loved, gave away, inspired, influenced, healed, and drew people in by His character. I want to associate with the Jesus who was who He said He was, all the time – not just from the stage or on camera. I can’t be Him. But I want to be like Him. It’s quite a lofty goal, but I’m working on it.

And for those of my churchy friends who will want me to address His righteousness and holiness and the mandate to live by Scripture, on that we can agree. I wouldn’t forget about those things and feel compelled to want to achieve them, as well.

I’m just glad that I can do that outside of my churchy bubble.

Really glad.

Confession of a Happy Misfit

If I told you that I don’t usually do what people tell me to do, that wouldn’t be a shocking confession. Most of you who follow my writing know that already.

But other things may come as a surprise to you. Like the fact that I am not as confident as you may think. And I rarely feel like I fit in, most anywhere.

I can play well with others (I’m a former pastor’s daughter, remember?), but I really don’t thrive inside circles you might expect. I don’t like to conform. I like to surprise people who assume I’m one way and find out I’m another. I always root for the underdog because usually, it’s me. If you tell me I can’t do something, I will die trying to prove you wrong.

I won’t tell you that there haven’t been moments that I saw this personality thing of mine as a huge hindrance. Believe me when I admit that I spent multiple years of my life wishing I could just be like everyone else: keep my mouth shut and play along. But somewhere along the way I figured out that my best option was to continue to be myself, even if that meant that I would often find myself in places I didn’t quite fit.

The thing is, it’s often better not to.

Fitting in many times means to say yes to things you really should reject. It can mean that you may walk away from group settings or packaged conversations with people whose main purpose is to just fit in, feeling compromised in some way. It's those times that you find yourself laughing about things you don't think are very funny...talking about things you don't really care about...hoping no one will notice that you are about to jump out of your very own skin.

The truth is: people that fit in may become more popular, but they never become more effective.

The happy misfits are the ones that have a shot at really making a difference, no matter what the popular crowd may say.

Join the team. If Jesus went against popular thought, so can you.

She's alive!

Don’t fall over. Yes, I’m {finally} updating my blog. I didn’t exactly intend to take a blogging break for the past several months, but apparently, that is what I’ve done.

I can assure you, it’s not because I have taken a break from life. That, my friends, has continued functioning at a rapid pace, and I have been running after it, trying to keep up.

It’s no secret to those of you who know me {as more than just a face on a page} that this past year has been among the greatest and most difficult of my life. It has brought with it many hard moments and many rich insights. People I have loved have come and gone out of my life. Unexpected new relationships have emerged. Lasting friendships have…lasted.

Many of you already know this, but for the few who don’t: my husband and I started a church and closed it, all in one year. We pulled together when the stress of our undertaking could have pulled us apart. All the things we feared happening to us in the process came true, except for one: we never lost our family. I cannot tell you how much joy it brings me to be able to type that last sentence and to be able to honestly say we are "better than ever."

If I were wanting to sound super spiritual, I would assert here that through the challenging past year, my relationship with God never changed. It is true that He never changed, though I can’t say the same for our relationship. It changed in many ways…ways it needed to for many years. When one has been a believer for as long as I have, sometimes a great change needs to occur, even when we don’t run after it. For me, it was far and away the greatest benefit to come out of the difficult year I experienced. Therefore, I can’t regret one minute of my bumpy 12-month journey.

There is so much in my head that I can’t get all of it out in this blog or it will be longer than you care to read. Many of the insights that came out of this year I have included in my new book, while many I have kept out for now, as things experienced are not always healthy to immediately share. But to say I am grateful to get to share my heart in book form, once again, is an understatement. Especially the message I get to share, as I know it is the message I was put on this earth to speak.

So you can see what has been keeping me busy over the past several months, as every bit of passionate thought as been directed toward this new Tyndale project, due for release in May of 2011.

In addition, the amazing ministry of She Seeks {a Proverbs 31 ministry for 20-somethings} that I am privileged to coordinate has really taken off. Ironically, it started nearly a year ago, as well, and our team is seeing the fruit of our labor as people are not only spreading the word about us, but they are recognizing our desire to be authentic and honest about the real life struggles we all face…and the answer we have found that supersedes them all, Jesus Christ. I couldn’t be more excited about what God is doing through us in this ministry, and I find no greater endorsement than to have said that we are making a dent in what some people think about Christians. I’m afraid we’ve been in need of some better PR for a long time, due to our own actions.

And now, I emerge from my non-intended blogging break to blog, once again. I pray I have something to say after leaving 50,000 words on the page of my new project. By the looks of this blog and its length, that shouldn’t be a problem. ☺

Be looking for my new website and blog to roll out in the next few weeks. It’s another one of those things that has been pushed aside for the greater good, but I’m past being ok with how lame it looks. My genius graphics guy has been working on it, and I’ll unveil it soon.

I’ve missed you, my friends. Thank you for letting me speak into your life every week through writing. I had no idea how much I missed it until this very moment.

My friend, Kris.

I wrote about my friend, Kris, for the first time over two years ago. You can read more about him HERE. With the family representative's permission, I share my thoughts about Kris upon his passing.

My friend, Kris, is being remembered today, as his 2-year struggle with cancer came to an end on Wednesday. It was a well-fought, difficult journey, and he finished the race with his family by his side. With the news being so fresh on my mind, I find it one of my toughest writing assignments yet to put something meaningful down on paper…yet I feel compelled to share my heart.

Kris’s battle with cancer touched me in a way I didn’t expect. For one thing, when the diagnosis first happened, I didn’t know him all that well. He had been my husband’s friend for years, and that was our strongest connection. But we had never had dinner together or vacationed as couples or even, had more than a few brief meetings with firm handshakes and smiles. But when I heard about his diagnosis, it had immediate impact. Thankfully, we were able to spend a small bit of time together in the months to follow, which my husband and I both hold dear.

Since that time I have asked myself why his story has had such an effect on me. I have literally stayed up some nights, praying for Kris and thinking of his family ahead of my own. Through this experience, I have learned how to pray for something consistently, and how the ties of prayer bind hearts and lives together in a unique way. Certainly, this has been a huge factor in my heart’s investment in Kris and his journey.

But in evaluating why Kris’s journey has had such great impact on me over the past 24 months, I think I have come to some type of conclusion besides the obvious one. I believe it is because I have seen how one day he was a strong, vibrant working family man with a bigger-than-life personality… and the next day he was forced into the role of patient -- thrust into a world of doctors, treatments, and numbered days he never expected. His journey has reminded me of not only the brevity of life, but also the cruel realities sometimes life carries. Kris never stopped being strong, even though his body did. In my world, that strength should have allowed Kris to live, as it is certainly how he will be remembered. But that is not something anyone but God can control.

Several weeks ago I was sitting in a Dallas hotel room, preparing for a women’s event that night. I sat on the bed and tried to look over my notes, yet my mind was inexplicably consumed with thoughts of Kris and his family. I tried to push them aside for the moment, but they wouldn’t budge. I felt compelled to not only pray for Kris, but to write down some thoughts that were on my heart and mind. As I thought about the injustice of how his physical body was failing him, Jesus reminded me of the very temporary state all of us on this earth really live in.

Before I share these thoughts, I need you to know that I never stopped praying for Kris to be healed, even right to the final moments. For if sheer will were to determine the outcome, his death never would have been so. I hoped the words I penned in that Dallas hotel room would never have relevance to be shared. But I share them now, praying that they will touch someone’s heart and honor Kris’s life in some small way. His family will undoubtedly share the personal reflections they were privileged to enjoy with Kris; I can only share the things his journey helped me remember.


It was a temporary body he lived in. One day it was strong. The next day, it wasn’t.

One day it saw beauty and love. Smiles and tears. Laughter and rain. The next day, it didn’t.

One day it saw grass and trees, mountains and the sandy beach. The next day, it didn’t.

One day it saw joy and it saw pain. It saw life and it saw death. The next day, it didn’t.

That day, it saw something different.

Streets of gold. Crystal sea. A chorus of angels. Nail-scarred hands, eagerly outstretched and waiting.

Complete peace. Fulfilled purpose. Sacred love. Death to life. Earth to heaven.

And in his new body, he rested. Welcomed by the arms of a Savior. Never again to struggle. Free, full, whole and forever.

Eternally, home.

I pray these words serve as a reminder to all of us that we are not here forever, but only for a brief moment in time. I do not presume to know what is in the hearts of Kris’s family right now, but I can only suppose that the message of making the most of every moment you are given is something they would support. May all of us live with the understanding that our temporary selves are meant to represent something much richer, much better, and much more…eternal.

Thank you, Kris, for this reminder. Rest well, my friend, in your new eternal home.

love, give and be challenged: {my week in el salvador}

You may know that I just returned from an amazing week in El Salvador with Compassion, International. As I struggle to organize my thoughts into a blog, my mind wanders to a verse I came across this morning in Psalm 48:10, “As your name deserves, O God, you will be praised to the ends of the earth.” I watched that verse come alive last week, right before my very eyes. Really, I could end this blog right there, and part of me wants to.

Forgive me. I want to tell you so much more, but I find my head and heart in a jumble.

I could tell you about the first time I saw the children of the Compassion project and how from that moment on, I rarely stopped weeping. I could tell you what it felt like to see a young lady in her Sunday best, standing in the hot sun with a sign bearing my name, welcoming me in a way I didn’t deserve. I could tell you what it sounded like to hear American praise songs sung in words I didn’t recognize. Or what it meant to feel the sweet hand of a child on my head, petitioning my same Savior on my behalf.

I could tell you about the hospitality of people who have mud permanently tattooed into the cracks of their feet, seeing more pain in one day than my mind is able to adequately compute. I could tell you about the giving spirit of a little boy who may only eat a snack-sized meal a day, yet gleefully gifted me with a bag of his favorite tortilla chips.

I could tell you about the humility of people who don’t carry around feelings of entitlement. I could tell you about believers who don’t use filters, politically correct phrases or Christian lingo to convey how they feel. I guess they’ve found that those things aren’t needed to communicate gratitude, love or Jesus. Who knew?

I could tell you about a ministry organization that exudes the Great Commission. I could tell you about some of the finest people I have ever met in my life, starting with the staff and stretching to the ones they most effect. I could tell you about the local pastors who aren’t celebrities, don’t sell thousands of books, and couldn’t care less. I could tell you about the local translators who felt like long-lost siblings within the first 24 hours of our meeting – people I loved so much I wanted to throw in my suitcase and bring home with me to insert into my daily life. If I were allowed to be as selfish as I wanted to be, I would have.

I could tell you about a young man named Nixon, a product of the Compassion project, who preached one of the best sermons I ever heard. Or a drama put on by a group of unashamed teenagers about the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, without the flash of American church passion plays but I dare say with greater effectiveness.

I could tell you about the beautiful girl in the white shirt/black skirt uniform who prayed in a way that stirred my bones to a place of sweet revival. When I told her how her prayer moved me she answered simply, “Thank you. Jesus put it in my heart.” Well, now. Is that how that thing works?

I could tell you this and more, but the stories are too many and too much. I’m quite certain I wouldn’t do them justice until I can unpack them a little more in my own mind. But of this you can be sure: what I saw last week was real. Real faces. Real lives. Real needs. The children I saw are not just images on cardboard cards. They exist. I know, because I met them.

So as I continue to process my week, thank you for your patience. But today, there is something I long for you to know.

This week was a week of personal challenges for me – to test what I thought with a potential to experience something more authentic. To some, this test might seem small. To others, it may seem enormous. I don’t care about the judgments on either side – all I know is that I went toe to toe with my fears and ignorance, and I didn’t back down. I met a personal challenge, and I won.

Which leads me to my exhortation.

Don’t be afraid of your challenge in life, whatever it is. Look it in the face and defy it. Embrace it. Own it. Live it, and let it move you to a new place of personal and spiritual discovery. Love it or hate it, you can either challenge it or it will challenge you. Challenge it, and you will win…no matter what the outcome. Because in the process, you will see with eyes of purpose and feel with new waves of passion.

You can wait, sit and wish. You can wonder what it feels like to regain a spiritual pulse. You can watch while someone else comes to a place of understanding that could be yours, if only you were willing to stop being afraid of what you don’t know.

I can’t tell you what to do, and I know you don’t want me to. All I can say is that it is my strongest belief that you find yourself in the midst of your greatest challenge.

The people of the Compassion project in El Salvador taught me that this week. If I already knew it, they made it more real. Though sheer existence is their greatest challenge, in some ways, that may just be their greatest gift. Certainly, their souls are richer than most.

Because of this I wholeheartedly say: may we follow their example and live to love, give, and be challenged.

To find out more about sponsoring a child or the Compassion project, click on THIS LINK.