life. faithful.

So, I did something hard yesterday--I visited the Pea Ridge Battlefield. from encyclopediaofarkansas.net That may not sound hard to you, but for me it made my heart ache. Not just for the soldiers who fought and died on those grounds, though that in itself was enough to make my heart hurt. No, it was hard for a whole other reason. You see, my brother was a Civil War scholar. He studied the Civil War--reading books, taking part in reenactments, watching movies--basically anything he could get his hands on. I remember going to the Pea Ridge Battlefield when we were little. I remember going to reenactments, where Michael was adamant that his hardtack be authentic, where his haversack was hand-sewn, and where everyone was thrilled when someone mashed a finger in the cannon because that meant they could have real blood on their bandages. Yeah, I know. Craziness. I'm in Bentonville right now, wrapping up the last of my 3 weeks of teacher training. I spent the first 2 weeks

"I still remember the way you clung to Me in your youth; in the early days of our union. Like a young bride, you loved the vows you made." ~Jeremiah 2:2b Newlyweds. Everything they find out about each other is exciting and new. They can even be annoying with all the crazy things they point out about each other, the things that would drive any sane person up the wall but that are somehow "so cute" in the early days. They want nothing more than being together--the rest of the world could fade away and they wouldn't mind. In fact, they would just about prefer it if that would happen. All they need is their love for each other. And then they start spending less time focusing on that love. Life starts getting in the way--the kids, the jobs, the money issues, the dreams they wanted to pursue but aren't realistic now--and, though it happens without conscious thought, they drift apart. It's not that the relationship becomes unimportant--it's j

"But Mom..." How many time have you either said or heard those words? They're usually only partially decipherable, stretched out and masked with a whine. Typically, they come about because the Mom in question didn't give the speaker what he or she wanted, holding her ground about something. If we're honest, it's usually something Mom's right about--though when you're the one asking, that's hard to see and admit. How often do our prayers sound like that? How often do we plead with God to just do what we want Him to do? We may not use the words, but I wonder if God hears our prayers sometimes start off with "But God..." poured out in a whine? Of course, the words probably sound different. We tend to fill our prayers with pretty words, as if our choice of words will be the deciding factor in whether or not we talk God into answering our prayers the way we want Him to. Do you think that sometimes we just sound like little kids tryi

I'm praying one of the hardest prayers for a control freak like me to pray. I say praying, because it's not a “one and done” kind of prayer. It's one of those prayers that I'll have to repeat time and time again—not because I think I need to repeat it for God's sake, but because it will take repetition to get it through my own thick skull and heavily guarded heart. God, let my pride take a backseat to Your purpose. Since I was little, I've wanted God to use me. I listened to missionaries talk about their time in exotic countries; I worked VBS on a regular basis; I went on mission trips with the KS-NE Acteens to Wyoming and Tennessee. I dreamed of being the one in the field, of living in a grass hut somewhere far away, of having a Story (with a capital S) and doing the Hard Things. I wanted--still want--the adventures. The thing is, not everyone does the big things. Sometimes, the hard thing is to be right here in the middle of your own story (l

I've gotten the opportunity to listen to just Christian music every day while I've been in Bentonville, and it has been wonderful. It may sound odd, but I've found that I've been more optimistic (not all the time—I'm human), less stressed, and more settled. Okay, I know I'm sounding a little bit like I'm trying to sell snake oil...but there's a purpose to my story. The station I've been listening to is holding a contest right now called “Dear Younger Me,” based on the song with the same name. The idea is to write a letter to yourself, and the winner of their contest gets concert tickets to a show at the AMP in July. I've decided to hold my own contest. In the comments, submit your own letter to your younger self. It can be written out in the comment, it can be a link, or you can send me an email—it's entirely up to you. I'll leave the contest open through the weekend. Then, the winner will get to pick a couple of my books for

I didn't want to write this blog post. Well, that's not entirely true. At first when I read the verse, I knew it needed to be a post. But when I started thinking about why it needed to be a post, I didn't want to write it anymore. It hit a little too close to home—honestly, it stepped on my toes and I just didn't want to have to admit it. I started reading Revelation again. I've tried it before, and it's just plain hard to muddle through. There's so much stuffed in that book, and a lot of it goes over my head or seems to be just out of my grasp. There's this crazy thing that happens when you read the Scriptures, though. Even the stuff that's so dense that you just can't understand has some little nugget hidden in there that can hit you in the gut. Can you tell I'm procrastinating? I really don't want to have to write this. I even changed what I was writing in my notebook and started writing my thoughts as a prayer instea

I don't know about you, but for me suffering makes me draw away from everyone and retreat into myself. I've spent a lot of years trying to “be strong” for those around me, and as a result I tend to try to deal with heartache on my own. Or more accurately, I don't deal with it—but I do it on my own. When it comes to dealing with heartache and suffering, we have the ultimate example to follow: Jesus. As the oldest son of a carpenter, I doubt anyone would say Jesus was weak. And even when He knew the cross was coming, He didn't walk away. His heartache was so intense that night in the garden that He sweat drops of blood. No matter what I've faced, it's never been that intense. Jesus stood on “trial” where He was mocked and beaten. The flesh on His back would have been ripped apart by the whip, the thorns on the “crown” shoved into His scalp and forehead. Through all of it—the nails being driven through His hands and feet, the excruciating pai

“At our church, we believe...” “Our stance on xyz is...” “ You should do this , but never do that .” “A good Christian would never...” “You can't be a Christian and vote for...” I don't know about you, but I'm getting pretty tired of hearing things that start like that. It seems those kinds of comments are especially prevalent right now, pouring in from both sides of very issue. Every time you turn around, somebody new is weighing in on the issues. We're bombarded by people telling us what our stance should be, what we should be offended by, and how we're being offensive to other people. Sometimes, it's enough to make me want to close out the world. If you've ever been around me, you've very likely heard me say that I don't like people. While that's not exactly true (I just don't like incompetence and ignorance), it is true that sometimes I wouldn't mind becoming a bit of a hermit. As followers of Christ, t