As I write this I am 30,000 feet in the air, headed to Haiti with a handful of Project 7 teammates. We are going to plant fruit trees as our Save the Earth campaign culminates. And truth be known, I am a little nervous. Okay, I’m a lot nervous.

Nervous because while I have experienced poverty, I haven’t experienced the darkness one hears about when discussing Haiti. Nervous because I have heard first hand Dan Woolley’s stories of surviving in an elevator shaft for days after the 2010 earthquake. Nervous because diseases like Cholera and Malaria are still real threats to Haitians and travelers alike. And nervous because Haiti feels dangerous, and as lame as it is to admit, I like feeling, being, living safe.

Last night as I climbed into bed and allowed my thoughts to spin, I started whispering to myself…

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I wasn’t quite sure where the familiar words came from {a quick google search told me that it was from St. Patrick’s Breastplate and is said invoke protection on a journey} but they are the words that I will take with me to Haiti and will holdfast to on all the journeys laid before me.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, his shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan’s spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart’s idolatry,
Against the wizard’s evil craft,
Against the death-wound and the burning
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

Friends, will you pray for our journey? And in the comments let us know how I can be praying for you?

Before Christmas, Jimmy Kimmel did something some might call cruel. He asked parents to give their children ‘terrible’ Christmas presents and to capture  their reaction, their disappointment, and occasionally their anger, on video. Personally, I think that the videos that ensued were hilarious. (But then again I’m not going to be the one paying for these kid’s therapy down the road.) And…there is something beautiful about these kid’s raw and honest reactions. They haven’t learned to feign gratitude. They call a spade, a spade. They call a half-eaten sandwich, a half-eaten sandwich. (Warning: One of the boys borders on inappropriate.)

I see myself in those kids. Especially the little girl who is trying to get to the bottom of why her mother would wrap up a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich and call it a gift. She isn’t trying to be high maintenance or particular. She doesn’t want to be disrespectful. She doesn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings. But clearly she just doesn’t get it and she can’t hide her questions, her disappointment, and her frustration.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I don’t want my disappointment to be misconstrued for lack of love, faith, or even trust. I don’t want to want what I don’t have.

I know that I have received gifts many people would die for. A great job. A welcoming community. A beautiful place to live. An opportunity to speak into the lives of others. But while they are more than I deserve, they aren’t what my heart so primally desires. And some days what my heart desires feels farther away than ever. To be known. To find a person to share my life with. To raise kids. To leave a legacy of love.

So here I sit, wrestling, negotiating, pleading. Wondering why He is withholding ‘the good stuff’? Wondering why the desire lies in waiting? And wondering why I can’t continue to feign gratitude about my ‘half-eaten sandwich’?

 What are you feigning gratitude about? What are you wrestling over? 

In an effort to begin checking things off my insanely long California bucket list, Saturday night I ventured out with some friends to the LA Galaxy game. It was my first soccer game since I saw “Tatu” play with the Dallas Sidekicks. {I know. I am probably dating myself. But there is no hiding it anyway. I am 35. Or at least I will be Wednesday. Ugh. Pardon my digression, I’m pretty sure it is just another symptom of my old age.}

Back to the soccer game. Or actually back to what my ears bleed during the soccer game.

Two male contemporaries sat directly behind us. And for an hour or so they grated on each of our nerves as they loud-talked about marathoning. One of the men had completed several races. And the other was just beginning his training.

It wasn’t ONLY the deafening decibal at which they spoke that made them annoying. It was also the way in which they conversed with each other.

One spoke without listening. One spoke dropping big words and accomplishments so that he appeared uber-knowledgable. One spoke overstating his meager skills so he might fit in. One gave half-hearted yet wholly-unconvincing assurances. One spoke with an air of superiority. One spoke with a hint of insecurity. And they both took themselves, and their running, way too seriously.

The unease during their exchange was so apparent, it united me and my friends in a mix of agitation and hilarity. But as I reflected back on it this morning, I wondered if someone, anyone, might overhear some of my conversations and observe the same lame conversation skills.

Yep. I fear they might.

And so this is the song I sing, the prayer I pray,

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. Psalm 19:14

And may I not sound like the foolish idiot I regretfully am time and time again.

Have you witnessed, or displayed, any lame conversation skills in recent memory? 

Gosh, sorry I haven’t written since the big news. I meant to, but time has sort of escaped me.

How have I been doing???

Well, I have been a tad overwhelmed.

The logistics of moving to California are far more complicated than I imagined.  Figuring out where to live and how to get my self, my belongings and my car from Nashville to Orange County has been pretty much all consuming. Not to mention the plotting of a lot difficult goodbyes.

And, for the better part of last week I was gripped with fear.

Can I really do this? What was I thinking? Moving to Southern California…the land of earthquakes and Real Housewives?  Who am I? Without Nashville, my friends, my church, and my dog? {Yeah, I came to the brutal decision to send Molly to reside in Texas with my parents than force her to accompany me as I get settled. Brutal.}

But…things are looking up.

I am feeling more cool, calm, and collected as the plan begins coming together. And I know this sounds corny and perhaps a little hyper-spiritual but Sunday as I sat in church I couldn’t miss the little confirmations, the gifts of reassurance, from God that this is the right move. And that I am not taking this leap alone.

From the gripping lyrics of Healer, “Nothing is impossible with You. You hold my world in Your hands.” To Pete Wilson’s poignant message about what being radically devoted to Christ looks like. To watching the waves crash on a rocky beach as Merlyn Catron sang, “Where you go, I’ll go. Where you stay, I’ll stay. When you move, I’ll move. I will follow you.” To the perfectly timed text message from Tyler Merrick nudging the Project 7 team to, “Look for His details in the tapestry of your life today and this week.”

He won’t let me endeavor to think I am taking this leap alone.

Praise. The. Lord.

Enough about me. Has He sent you any gifts of reassurance lately?

Monday afternoon around 5 PM, I jumped. Monday afternoon around 5 PM, I took that giant leap of faith, or some might say insanity, that turns a comfortable existence right on its side. Monday afternoon around 5 PM, I accepted a job as Director of Community for Project 7.

If you are not familiar with Project 7, it is a cause-related company founded by “social-capitalist” Tyler Merrick that makes every day consumer goods, like bio-bottled water, gum, mints and coffee. And with every purchase of a Project 7 product, tangible good is done in 7 areas of need: Feed the Hungry, Heal the Sick, Hope for Peace, House the Homeless, Quench the Thirsty, Teach them Well and Save the Earth.

Gnarly, huh? {Yeah, I don’t imagine I will ever be able to pull off that word. I better stick with cool.}

Cool, huh?

And my job is even cooler. As Director of Community, I’ll be overseeing all strategic partnerships, relationships and sponsorships in faith-based channels. If someone could craft a position just for me, I believe this is it. It will allow me to utilize the various marketing, merchandising, and communications skills and the relationships that I have honed over the last decade at Thomas Nelson and Books-A-Million.

I know what you are thinking, none of this sounds so crazy.

Well, the kicker is that the job will be based in Southern California. I am still in the process of working out logistics of how to close up a home, and a life, in Nashville and begin anew in Orange County, CALIFORNIA, but imagine I’ll be west coast bound in early September.

So truth be known, I am feeling excited, scared, sad, and a tad bit overwhelmed. But most importantly, I feel a gentle peace about the decision. I know it is the right thing and I am ready to start this new adventure. I hope you will join me on this journey. And I am sure there a lot more to come {read: weepy posts} in the next few weeks as I begin to process this big change.

Appreciate you all!

I imagine if you grew up around churches, or Christian summer camps, you probably are all too familiar with the song “I’ve Got the Joy.”  I can still hear it echoing through the church gymnasium sung by voices too innocent to realize they are off key. In my personal experience, way off key.

“I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy…”

A couple verses in we’d sing,

“I’ve got the peace that passes understanding…”

I had never given much thought to that term, the peace that passes understanding, until recently.

Until recently when I discovered a peace that didn’t make any sense. Until recently when I discovered a peace that was unfathomable in light of my current circumstances.

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7 (King James Version)

Until recently when I discovered a peace that had to be from something, Someone more powerful than me, or my worries de jour.

A peace. A peace that is of God. A peace that is keeping my heart in tact and my mind sane. A peace that is washing over me, eliminating fears and anxieties, and replacing them with a fresh cleansing hope.

A peace that passes my very-limited-and-oh-so-human understanding.

My peace I give in times of deepest grief, Imparting calm and trust and My relief.

My peace I give when prayer seems lost, unheard; Know that My promises are ever in My Word.

My peace I give when thou art left alone, The nightingale at night has sweetest tone.

My peace I give in time of utter loss, The way of glory leads right to the cross.

My peace I give when enemies will blame, Thy fellowship is sweet through cruel shame.

My peace I give in agony and sweat, For mine own brow with bloody drops was wet.

My peace I give when nearest friend betrays, Peace that is merged in love, and for them prays.

My peace I give when there’s but death for thee, The gateway is the cross to get to Me. – L. S. P. (Streams in the Desert)

When was the last time you felt a peace that you didn’t quite understand?

And did you know that according to Wikipedia there is a verse that goes “I’ve got the far out faith that freaks out farmers…”?

Because I had no idea.

Today, like many Sundays, I was struck with an incredible sense of thankfulness for my church. I know that there are hundreds, thousands, millions, of great churches out there, but for now, Cross Point is the right fit for me.

I know that you probably feel the same way, and that’s why I would love to hear what you appreciate most about your church. One of the things I love most about the Christian Church at large is how we all have different traditions, different methods, and different pastors, but  worship the same great big God.

Well, anyway, here is what I appreciate most about Cross Point:

We have an unusual pastor in Pete Wilson. Every time he shares a message, it is evident that he is still fighting the good fight. He doesn’t have it all figured out. (Praise the Lord.) He is actively struggling to be the man God created him to be. He is learning and battling with the rest of us. He is real, approachable, and graceful. Under his leadership, a staff, and a congregation, model “going first” so that others can see the powerful ways that God redeems our stories and our brokenness.

There are other things I love…The community. The friendships. The support. The coffee. The creative energy. The worship (except when they make us “roar” like lions). But if I had to say what I appreciate the most, it’s how Pete fosters an environment of authenticity.

Where do you go to church? And what do you appreciate most about it?

Do you ever look at your faith and wonder? Wonder if it would be strong if you didn’t “live a pretty little life.” Wonder if it will survive the really hard times. Wonder if it is wrongly based on the assumption that your life, as a Christian, will only get better, it certainly can’t get worse.

I guess it goes without saying that I do. I struggle with this. A lot.

Because my faith has not truly been tested. Sure, my life hasn’t been perfect. I have been through terrible break-ups. I have been betrayed by some of my best friends. I have had to bury three grandparents, two dogs, and several friends. I have been sick. And at thirty years old, I have to sit and wait for biopsy results knowing that my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was thirty-one.

I have experienced loss. I have experienced fear. I have felt alone.

But I look at the trials and tribulations of others. And I remember that I have no idea. (more…)