We all want to change the world...

I'm currently working on the Big Idea discussion guide for our January series called Revolutionaries, and it's stirring up a lot of interesting dust in my brain.

When you hear the word revolutionary, what do you think of? I think of all the famous role models I look up to, whose achievements seem impossibly beyond my reach. I will never be a Mother Teresa, a Rosa Parks, a Martin Luther King...I always hope that eventually I will reach the aspirations I had as a child; I forget (often) that this is when I should be doing that--it slips my mind that I reside in the world of adults now. That seems so surreal sometimes.

As I was writing about revolutionary celebration, I was reminded that although I think that it's the massively life-changing people who revolutionize the world...the small things are just as important. Starting with the little things can revolutionize how I view my relationship with God and how I celebrate His constant presence in my life. Changing the world starts with revolutionizing my own way of celebrating my faith.

I don't know that I will ever be a revolutionary in my own mind, or that anyone will really take notice of my life in the vast scheme of the universe. But I do know that I can celebrate each day, even the really cold, windy, and ugly days of winter that have come upon us...I can celebrate the stray sunbeams that escape the blankets of clouds...I can celebrate the people I love...I can celebrate the wonder of this marvelous season of sparkling promise. Christmas always fills me with hope, despite the brutal weather, the materialism, the crowds...it's still a beautiful season. so maybe the revolution has already started...

and the angels danced...

I love in the Bible that it says that heaven rejoices when someone comes to God. I think there was a LOT of rejoicing this weekend. In fact, I know there was a lot of rejoicing this weekend...I was there.

Baptism has become my favorite expression of faith; it is so public that you can't deny the decision, you can't be ashamed of your faith, you can't ignore the community of Christ followers cheering you on in that moment. The excitement of sharing that with people always overwhelms me.

This was one of those weekends. It's so powerful to see people make decisions to be baptized...it's so powerful when that decision happens in a heartbeat--because you can't deny the work of the Holy Spirit in those moments. Not only did we have 3 people baptized during service Saturday night, 3 more decided in the moment after service to make that commitment.

One of those 3 people was one of my leaders. He has been a dedicated leader for a long time now...and he played guitar this weekend. It was a whirlwind after service, and next thing I knew he was in the baptistry--in all his clothes, not even bothering to change, throwing things out of his pockets to his kids, his wife with tears running down her face (and she wasn't the only one)...it was one of the more beautiful moments I've seen. We celebrated loud and hard for him. And the angels danced, I'm sure of it.

This morning Jenn came in and said that her daughter Avery decided last night she wanted to be baptized. It was clear on Jenn's face how much that decision meant. My friend Heather told me that when her sons decided to get baptized it was the biggest moment of her life as a parent--that even though you think about the day when they'll leave home and get married and become parents themselves, the most important moment in a parent's life is seeing their children give their lives to Christ. It was so incredible to see our whole church celebrating with Jenn and Carter as they baptized their daughter this morning. And the angels danced.

They dance for each of us, every time we find our way back to God. No one is too unimportant. I like to think we each get our own individual dance, and that maybe when I get to heaven I can have a patented dance move the angels did when I made that decision. And when we're all there together, I can teach you The Charissa.

And the angels will dance. Forever and ever.

there are moments...

...when being a woman in ministry feels a little bit like trying to get into the Boys' Club. They are all sitting around drinking beer and eating potato chips and I walk in with a martini...I'm at the party but not really partying.

I don't think this is ever the intention. I don't believe for a second that the guys I work with even think about the fact that they are guys and I am not. But I have the overwhelming urge sometimes to prove that I can do everything they can do, and I can do it better.

Is it wrong to be competitive in ministry? I always say that I'm not a competitive person...and relatively speaking, that is true. At least in comparison with certain parties....particularly the Pruntys....I am very non-competitive. But I think the truth is that I only compete when I think I can. When I think I am equal to the challenge and there is a chance that I might "win." It comes back to my fear of looking stupid in front of people. If I know I'm going to make a fool of myself, I will either not do something or I will make fun of how bad I am at that something. (I am trying to overcome this...Lucas is helping by making me do things like play Guitar Hero and go skiing.) But when it comes to ministry, I want my ministry to be the best. I want to prove that I can hack it, that being a girl doesn't put me at a disadvantage.

But I don't think I will ever like beer, so maybe the Boys' Club isn't for me after all...





*the author would like to thank Julie and a random bartender for inspiring this conversation*

Jesus On Demand

So here's an interesting idea, right? Jesus On Demand, kind of like Comcast On Demand? Wouldn't it be nice sometimes to be able to have that kind of immediate response...just flip on the Jesus switch and get the answers you need?

It seems a little flippant, sure, but I have moments when I just need insta-Jesus. For example...my roommates and I (I guess I should say former roommates) have been having a really hard time talking to our former landlord in an attempt to retrieve our security deposit. I called him last week with every intention of being civil, and not only did he rant at me for a good five minutes without stopping, at the end of the conversation he swore at me and hung up on me.

In this scenario, I need Jesus On Demand to tell me 1) how to contain my anger, 2) how to act toward my landlord, and 3)remind me that he cares about my landlord as a person, even though I don't. But at the time, I didn't know that I needed all those things--I just knew I was mad. This post is several days removed from the incident, so I have had some time to compose myself, but honestly I can't remember ever being so angry in my entire life. How do you be Christ-like in such a scenario?

I don't know the answer. The problem is that I have a tendency to be highly impatient, and it's difficult to wait on God's responses to my cries...because that's what they are for the most part--cries for direction or attention or whatever the case may be. I am also a bad listener. I envy people who have the ability to really listen to God...I hear him mainly when it's the last thing I want to hear because I have been so stubborn that he has no choice but to shout at me. That's the way it goes.

So my Jesus On Demand idea would be incredibly convenient. For me.

a picture is worth a thousand words

It's really true. A good photograph can make me think, laugh, cry, wonder, remember, admire, ponder, question. A good photograph can break my heart....from pain or beauty.

My friend Jer is an amazing photographer. I thought you should see some of his pictures. They are breathtaking and heartbreaking and spectacular.

legacies

This morning's Leadership Community featured the commissioning of our team launching a new church in Kansas City (check out their blog--link to the left). There is something that stirs inside me every time we do this--when we start a new church or new campus, we bring up the team and pray over them, and then acknowledge the fact that they are doing something lasting for the Kingdom of God. I know that we all do lasting things for the Kingdom, myself included, but sometimes I want to be part of something bigger than my everyday life....

I want to leave a legacy. (Cue over-played, slightly-cheesy Nichole Nordeman song here....it should be playing in your head right about...now.)

Some people do this without even trying. At the end of LC, Perry Martin (also on the blog list to the left) got up to do reminders, but before that he shared how much Troy (leader of KC team) had impacted his life--he called it leaving a thumbprint. And then he asked everyone who felt that Troy had left a thumbprint on their lives to raise their hands...and it must have been at least about 75% of the room. It was something of an overwhelming moment....I can't imagine how that felt for Troy. The enormity of one person leaving a "thumbprint" on that many lives staggers me.

On a related note, I am currently back home in Springfield because my family is celebrating my grandpa's 80th birthday tomorrow. My grandpa is another person whose legacy will live on....I think half the city of Springfield is indebted to him in some form or another. My grandparents moved to Springfield in the 50s when my grandpa opened his medical practice. He eventually became the medical director of one of our local hospitals, and now is "retired", which means that instead of being medical director, he works at the hospice. (I think a real retirement would be hazardous to his health.) I am always proud of my grandpa. I am proud that he is MY grandpa. That he is well-known in his community as someone who puts others first, who has had a lifetime of selflessness, who lives humbly and loves his family unconditionally. I can't begin to express everything that my grandparents mean to me. I don't know who I would be without their influence.

When I look at all the people who have influenced (and continue to influence) my life, only a few have remained throughout the years as a constant source of inspiration. The biggest one is my grandpa. He has every right to live in a half-million dollar home, enjoying his retirement and squandering his money after the work he has done for the last fifty+ years....but instead he gives of himself all the time. And it shows in the way other people respect him. He has shown me how to live a blessed life, and I hope that when I am 80 years old I am halfway to the point he is now.

We leave legacies long before we die. The legacy lives in earnest with each day. I see people all around me seizing their dreams, their visions, and leaving in their wake a trail of inspiration. I count myself lucky to work with people whose vision is contagious, whose legacies follow behind them like their shadows--visible and present-- in a church that is never stagnant.

one of those days....

So yesterday I had what can only be described as a retarded day. I know, I know, what an ugly word choice, but seriously....

On Thursdays I go to DePaul for class...in Lincoln Park. On Thursdays I also teach ONE piano lesson in Romeoville. And I live in Aurora (not just on Thursdays but every day). So typically I drive to Romeoville to do my piano lesson and since I'm right by the interstate I go ahead and head into DePaul. Yesterday, though, I forgot my wallet. This is significant for 2 reasons: I needed gas, and I needed my student ID. Generally I don't freak out if I forget my license...it's usually fine. But there was no way I was making it to the city unless I got gas. So I had to drive all the way back to Aurora, which put me way behind schedule, and also had me leaving at a bad traffic time.

Prior to all this, however, I walked into a window.
That was the low point of my day.
I'm serious. It's hard to envision without seeing it, but I went to open a door, found it locked, turned to go into another room (this was all right before I had to teach a piano lesson) and walked smack into the door-height window. I thought I broke my nose. I mean, I hit the window full force, with my nose. And I don't know about you, but I have found that I have a highly sensitive nose--in matters of pain. Any time I get hit in the nose (which, let me tell you, is more frequent than you might think) it hurts more than I think it should. So the dull throbbing that sustained through the rest of the day yesterday across the bridge of my nose and cheekbones did not help as I sat in traffic.

It was really one of those days. A retarded day. And yes, my nose is still feeling a little sore. I wouldn't be surprised if it bruises...it would be just my luck.