life. faithful.

Tolerance. It seems to be something of a buzz word lately, with everybody demanding tolerance and accusing the opposition--whoever that happens to be at the time--of being intolerant. My original plan for this post was a call to tolerance for both sides, but as I've been looking into it more deeply I've come to a conclusion some people might find alarming: Christianity is and must be inherently intolerant. Now, hopefully you'll stick with me for a bit and hear me out--I know that probably sounds strange, but I promise I'm going somewhere with it. tolerate: allow the existence, occurrence, or practice of (something that one does not necessarily like or agree with) without interference Society tells Christians (and so do some preachers and teachers in the church) to be tolerant, that we should respect the beliefs of others as being equally valid. Many today try to say that loving others--which is what Christ stressed above all commandments other than loving Go

*Today is a link-up (well, actually Thursday was supposed to be...this whole writing late thing is starting to become a habit it seems!) with the Faith Barista.   The question she asked for this week was, "Who in the Christmas story do you identify with most deeply?"  *****    Can you imagine what it would have been like? Put yourself there for a minute: out in the fields one night, everything business as usual. You're watching the sheep, probably half asleep. You're listening for anything out of the ordinary, but really not expecting anything to happen. Everything's peaceful out in the fields. I've sat out on the hills many times myself, at Pop and Mom's.   Day or night, the pasture is a good place to think. The herd I got to watch was a bit different than the flock the shepherds were watching, but I imagine the peacefulness would have been the same--    --away from the hustle and noise and general busy-ness of town, just t

I've stared at that title for a while now, trying to figure out what to write. It's part of a link up with the Faith Barista, so it is actually an assignment of sorts that was "due" Thursday...   For some reason, though, I just don't know what to write. What do I need to give myself permission to do, or to be? It really doesn't seem like it should be such a hard concept. Maybe the problem, then, comes from the fact that I don't really know what I want to be when I grow up. "Wait, what?" you may ask. "But you're in grad school and you're writing--not to mention you're almost 30! You're kind of already in that 'grown up' part of life, you know." I hear you, I promise. But you see, there's still this nagging feeling inside that I really don't know what to do with the rest of my life. I think it's an inheritable trait--I got it from Pop (that's my dad, for those of you who may not know).

I saw a welcome home sign this morning on my drive in to class, and I almost started crying. It's strange to me that even now, close to 10 years since I last saw my brother, little things can get to me. This morning it was the banner in a front yard welcoming home a Marine. A couple days ago it was a picture I found tucked away of Michael in Iraq--made even harder when Raiden walked in and saw it in my hands. She said, "Uncle Michael," then went on to say, "I'm really sorry for you, Mommy." Friday is Michael's birthday, when he would have turned 33. Sometimes, I'm overwhelmed by the thought of how young 23 really was and how much life he has missed out on. I know they say it isn't the years in someone's life that matters, but the life in someone's years. To be honest, though, sometimes I wish "they" would just keep quiet. I'll be 30 next summer, and I can't imagine anyone who would have teased me more about th

"Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind." Those are bold words, spoken by a man who wasn't afraid to stir things up a bit--Albert Einstein. And though it may go against my better judgment (or maybe it just makes me nervous) I'm going to take a chance at stirring things up a bit myself... I still find it hard to believe at times, but I'm in the world of science. I still hesitate to call myself a scientist and don't know if I'll ever really feel like I can call myself a physicist, but after all life's twists and turns I've found myself right in the middle of a world that somehow seems both disconnected and intricately blended with the world of faith in which I grew up. Some people, it seems, think those two worlds--one of science and one of faith--should never collide. I'm not sure what chaos they think might come about as a result, but surely it would be something terrifying and life shattering. You know wha

There's a Faith Hill song called, "Someone Else's Dream." The chorus says this: She was daddy's little girl Momma's little angel Teacher's pet, pageant queen She said "All my life I've been pleasin' everyone but me, Waking up in someone else's dream" Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever looked around and realized that you were living the life other people expected you to live, but you really don't know how it happened? Or am I the only one who has ever felt that way? On the off chance that I'm not alone, I'm going to keep writing. Gulp. Believe me, I would rather just let this particular subject slip quietly away. It hits a bit close to home and reveals a bit more than I would willingly show people. However, way back in January I chose the word " follow " for 2013, and right now that's what I'm doing. Following. Dragging my feet a bit to be honest, but still following. So, in

Sometimes life gets to be too much. Maybe I'm the only one to ever feel this way, but some days it is all too easy to get overwhelmed. Surely I'm not alone in this, right? I'm not talking about the big, important, life-changing events here. No, I mean the incredibly unimportant, miniscule things that shouldn't have any sort of real impact on your day. Yesterday was one of those days for me. Well, I guess technically it started the night before. Nathan and I watched a movie after the kids went to bed and I fell asleep part way through. That's a pretty common occurrence in our house...and by "pretty common" I actually mean "pretty much every night." So for some reason, I woke up at 11 pm cranky. No real reason, just plain not happy. I was ready to go to bed, but Conan had spilled something on my phone yesterday morning (again) and so my phone was in pieces drying out (again). That left me without an alarm. Yes, there was probably an ac

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose...What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:28 & 31) These two verses seem to be favorites for a lot of people, and understandably so. Taken together, it seems people take these two verses to mean that everything will go smoothly for Christians. The flip side of that, then, is that if life is hard-- if things are going wrong or falling apart or disintegrating right before their eyes-- for someone who claims to be a Christian, then there must be something wrong in that person's spiritual life. After all, here in Romans we're told that God works things out for those who love Him, and that nobody can go against us if God is for us. Right? It would be really great if that were the case. I imagine it would be pretty easy to persuade others to become Christians then, too. If God'

September is blog month for Compassion, and in "true Mandy fashion" I've procrastinated. Despite me putting it off, though, I hope you can still see the importance of hopping over to the Compassion website . Their goal this month is to see 3,160 kids sponsored, but that's not all they do. I hope you'll take a minute to check out what they do and see how you can be involved in changing someone's life. Who knows--you might even change yours in the process! That said, the first assignment for blog month was to write a letter to my childhood self. I was challenged to do something similar to this a while back, except it was to the teenaged me. If you want to check that one out you can read it over here . Okay, so I've stalled long enough... *** To the little girl who has so much going for her, yet is still terribly unsure of herself-- First of all, I'm not going to tell you who this is from because you would never believe me. You're way too grou

Follow. Back in January, I wrote about how that was my "one word" for 2013. I have to admit, there are certain connotations to the word follow, not the least of which is the idea that if you are going to be following someone you're going somewhere. You're moving forward, making progress--    or at least just plain moving . What happens, though, when you are standing still? Or more than that, how do you follow when you've been knocked flat on your face? Everyone talks about the "Christian walk." I don't know about you, but when I hear that phrase it makes me think of an evening stroll down a well-beaten path. You know, one of those walks where there's plenty of time to look around and soak in the sights and sounds, to feel the gentle breeze against your face as you catch the beauty of a sunset. Maybe even throw in some woodland creatures scampering nearby--you know, Snow White style. (c) Disney I've found, though, that that phra

Nine years ago today, I was in the middle of all this:   I would say it was a typical August day in northwest Arkansas, but according to weather underground it was a much cooler than normal 75-degree day. Evil doesn't rest, though, and tragedy strikes even in the midst of joy and beauty. Around 7,000 miles away on the other side of the world, my brother was killed. Look over here if you want to read that story, because this one takes a little different turn. Fast forward a few weeks, to when the shock was starting to wear off. My brother was gone, and I was mad. Not at the war or at the man who killed him--war brings death as part of its natural order, and the man who shot my brother was, to me anyway, like him in the fact that he was a soldier--albeit the enemy--fighting for his beliefs. I wasn't mad at God, not really. Pop was. He had made a promise that he would never talk to God again if He ever took one of us kids, and for a while that was the case.

It's easy to get too busy--believe me, I know! With a husband and kids and school and laundry and cooking and writing and...everything else, sometimes life is just plain crazy. I look at everything I have to get done, and I know I could never fit a single thing extra into the day. For that matter, not all the stuff that has to get done gets done, either. Life is crazy and overwhelming at times (or if you're like me, maybe you feel more like it is only calm and peaceful at times and crazy the rest of the time!). It's easy to get distracted by all the stuff going on, and wander away from what's really important: "After the Feast was over, while His parents were returning home, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but they were unaware of it. Thinking He was in their company, they traveled on for a day." (Luke 2:43 & 44a) Just like Mary and Joseph, we very easily find ourselves walking off and leaving the Savior behind. And also like them,

" But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers. " (Luke 22:32) So often, we are given the impression that a true Christian has a faith that is never shaken. To be a true believer , someone God can use for great things, you have to be someone who is walking forward on the right path at all times, never distracted or sidetracked or a bit lost. It seems tied in to the same train of thought that says a Christian should never question God, something I've come to disagree with (you can read my thoughts on that over here ). There's this guy in the Bible, though, who seems to go against just about every description of a Christian that we cling to so faithfully. In the Scriptures he comes across as impulsive, hotheaded, and a bit short-fused. At the end of the Last Supper, we see him arguing with Jesus. In the garden, he cuts a guy's ear off. While Jesus us being questioned by Caiaphas, this

"Try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value." ~Albert Einstein One of the definitions of success is, "the gaining of fame or prosperity." Value has a lot of definitions, but there are 2 that stand out to me: 1~ "utility or merit" 2~ "a principle, standard, or quality considered worthwhile or desirable" The world, it seems, holds success high above value. Too often people--and probably men especially--are judged on how famous they are or how much money they have managed to accumulate. By those standards, Pop wouldn't rate very highly. His name isn't known around the world; there aren't thousands of people who would recognize his picture. His bank account has never been one of those at risk o not being covered by the FDIC--the paycheck flows back out to pay the bills pretty quickly. By the world's standards, he probably wouldn't be considered a success. But a man of value? That's a v

I haven't written here in a while, and for that I have to say sorry. I've gotten wrapped up in other things the past couple of weeks, namely the release of a book that has been a long time in coming and which now sits on my shelf--an actual book, in print, with my name on the cover. I am beyond excited to see it, though to be honest it still doesn't really seem true even when I look up at the bookshelf across the room from my chair in the living room. It fits with the other paperbacks there, but at the same time it doesn't. Because inside is me. It's fiction, a fantasy, but it is me just as much as if I had been telling my life story in its pages. Other people may not see it, but every word has a little piece of me hidden inside. Every line is a glimpse into my soul. I'm on every page, my strengths, weaknesses, flaws, and beliefs there for everybody to see. There's a quote from E.L. Doctorow that says, " Writers are not just people who sit down