Searching for Sacred

“Amazing grace that saved a wretch like me.” How many of us are willing to look at our own wretchedness? It is easy to point the finger at another’s obvious shortcomings rather than take a good, honest look at ourselves. Some of us are rather lucky – we can cover up our wretchedness and hide it from the scrutiny of society. Others are not so fortunate. Over the last several months, I have had a few encounters that have left me pondering the idea of sin, judgment, and grace. A family friend became pregnant out of wedlock and a cloud of shame followed her. She lost her job because she could not hide her “mistake.” Her family thanked me for being so kind and understanding as if harsh criticism was the anticipated response. I had a second encounter with a woman who has struggled with obesity her entire life. She cannot hide her coping mechanisms – her body announces to the world that she finds comfort through food. Lately, I find myself thinking of these encounters and wondering how my lif...

A few years ago, there was a tragic accident involving Taylor University students. Two girls, one who died and one who was severely injured were misidentified. For months, one family grieved the loss of their daughter while the other sat hopefully by the bedside awaiting healing and recovery. It was only after several months of mourning and waiting that the two families learned the identities were mistaken. In an instant, one family “got their daughter back from the dead” while the other sadly buried their daughter. In national interviews following the breaking news of the tragedy surrounding the mistaken identity, the mother of the child who died was asked “Did you ever ask God why he would allow this to happen to you?” Her response surprised me as she answered with great wisdom, “No. Why should I be exempt from tragedy.” As a mother, I cannot imagine anything worse than losing a child. I do not know if I would have the same maturity to not give a regular shout out of “Why me!” While ...

For years I assumed that to value woman’s rights and equality meant that men and women should be treated equal. Equality meant that differences among the sexes were to be ignored. As a feminist, I fought for the right to be able to do all that a man can do, both in the workplace, the home, and within the religious realm. I fought hard battles . . . and mostly came out wounded and feeling misunderstood. My first “real” job was as a youth minister in a large evangelical church. I had entered a boys club – from church leadership to fellow colleagues, I was surrounded by men with few exceptions. I believed that my role was to be just one of the guys. This was not too difficult for me as I played guitar, loved sports, and had a general disdain towards nail polish and dresses. By silencing the woman within me, I short-changed the ministry. It was not until my late twenties that I began to respect my feminine side. It was not until I entered motherhood that I began to see it as a blessing and...