Andrea Lucado's Blog, page 2

Jesus the Idea, Jesus in the Flesh

I feel like I can go long stretches of time where my faith is based on this idea of Jesus, but not really the person of Jesus. As if who he was was this wonderful collection of love and peace and wisdom. A formless mass of goodness. And then, someone will say something or I’ll read something or I’ll get a really vivid picture of a story in scripture and suddenly, Jesus is real. He is still love and wisdom and peace, but he is also flesh and bones and particles and molecules. He is human.

Today our pastor talked about Matthew 16. In Matthew 16:21, Jesus begins telling the disciples what would happen to him, that he would have to go to Jerusalem. That he would be crucified. Our pastor explained that the disciples would understand the implications of crucifixion much more than we are able to. They had seen it done. They had seen what happened to bodies subjected to the cross.

This is why, he explained, Peter was so upset when Jesus began describing his fate. “This shall not happen to you!” Peter cried (Matt. 16:21). Something about Peter’s response, the desperation, the determination, humanized this passage for me for the first time.

Imagine meeting someone who quickly became your best friend, and not only that, but someone you greatly admired. A mentor, but on steroids. Someone whom you so completely trusted that you believed every word he said. Your gut, heart, mind and soul—they all told you this person was goodness through and through. You could trust him with your most precious pain, with your most secret secret. If he told you he was moving cities, you would move too because you could not imagine your life apart from him. He changed you.

This is how I imagine the disciples felt about Jesus. I am sometimes frustrated that scripture doesn’t explain how everybody was feeling about everything. It can feel very emotionless to me, but I suppose scripture does what all good writers are supposed to do—show and not tell. This is what Peter’s exclamation does. This shall not happen to you!

If a friend told you, “I know how I’m going to die and this is how,” would you not say the same? Especially if it was the type of person who had had such an impact on you that you could not imagine your life without him?

It is moments like today—when Jesus moves from idea to flesh—that I am so astounded by the story of this faith I believe in. Jesus was a person, with friends. This group of people with whom he spent the better part of three years. And he had to tell them, “I’m going to die, and this is how.” How impossibly difficult. How very heartbreaking.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Flesh Jesus versus idea Jesus. Concepts of love, wisdom and peace versus a man who shared his love, wisdom and peace with actual people.

This Thursday night I’m going to be teaching on the topic of Immanuel. God with us. I get to use my favorite verse in all of scripture, Matthew 28:20: “And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

These are the last recorded words Jesus said to his disciples. In light of this human Jesus I’ve been thinking about, I realized it is in this moment that the disciples had to say goodbye to their friend.

Have you ever said goodbye to someone who you knew, deep down, you would probably never see again? Those are the hardest goodbyes. Really, nothing is harder than when you can’t say when you’ll see somebody next. When you both know it will be a good long time, if ever.

I think it may have felt this way for the eleven that day, on the mountain in Galilee. We’ve been through a lot together, Jesus tells them. You are my dearest friends. And it will be a long time before you see me again, but I am with you always, until the very end.

Only he could promise such a thing. Only he could say it and mean it. He couldn’t say, “See you next week…month…or year.” But he could say, “I’ll be with you always.” A moment of such sadness and such hope for the disciples. Saying goodbye forever, but also being promised their friend was forever with them.

I’ve felt so grateful today for this Christian story I’ve been invited to be a part of, a story that’s about an actual human flesh person named Jesus, who had friends, who had hard conversations, who had to say goodbye. When Jesus is all ethereal, he’s a good idea I like to think about. But when Jesus is an actual person, that’s when I can feel him with me. That’s when I can really believe what he said, that surely he is with me always, even to the end of the age.

The post Jesus the Idea, Jesus in the Flesh appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

Announcing A New Project: Breathing Room

This is how my ideas come to fruition:

I have an idea. I think about that idea for a long time. I say the idea out loud, but only to myself.

One day, I say the idea out loud to a trusted friend. Then, I say it to more friends. I practice speaking the idea. Maybe it’s to gauge others’ responses. Maybe it’s to gauge my own. Am I really serious about this? Do I really want to do it? Or, do I just like thinking about it?

I go one of two ways:

1. I decide it’s just something I like saying out loud but will never actually do. I let the idea die.

2. I decide this is something I actually want to try. I take practical steps toward birthing the idea.

For example, before I moved back to Texas, I told a bunch of people at a friend’s wedding that I was thinking about moving back to Texas. I really wasn’t planning on doing it. I was just practicing saying it out loud. And voile! About a year and a half later, I was packing boxes and heading south.

Another example. Once, I told a bunch of people I was going to run a full marathon. The more I said it, the more I realized this was a great idea in theory, but not in practice. I didn’t have time to devote my life to that type of training. So, I settled for a half marathon and let the full marathon idea die.

The project I’m announcing today is something I’ve thought about for a long time. Then, in the form of a blog post, I said it out loud to a few of you. Then, I started taking practical steps. I wrote a piece. I talked to a graphic designer. I talked to my website designer about process. And today, I’m pleased to say the idea has come to fruition.

It’s exactly what it says. It’s a newsletter I’m going to send out on occasional Fridays, and my hope is that it will encourage you to stay unplugged over the weekend and rest. A few words to give you room to breathe.

The first issue is going out tomorrow morning to anyone who is currently subscribed to my blog or anyone who subscribes to the newsletter in the box below. If you subscribe to Breathing Room, you will also get a free chapter of my book English Lessons. (Current subscribers of my blog, check your inbox. I sent you something in regards to this yesterday.)

Why am I starting a newsletter about rest?

When I wrote that blog post a while back about why I get off social media on the weekends, I noticed it resonated with many of you. Your souls feel weary. You are craving balance in the real world and in your social media world. You are asking the same questions I am about the value of watching others’ lives unfold online versus watching yours, in real life.

What I’ve found in my social-media free weekends is that I rest better. My mind and heart slow down when I can’t scroll myself to sleep. I am able to focus better, pay attention to nature, sounds, smells, tastes. I feel more alive and I feel more at rest.

But the topic of rest runs much deeper than a 48-hour social-media fast. Rest has been a theme for me this past year, as I’ve mentioned before. What I’ve found in my explorations of rest—and I explain this more in the first issue of the newsletter—is that rest and identity are inextricably tethered. I can only rest when I am confident in my identity. And I cannot be confident in my identity apart from my knowledge of Christ. Christ’s sacrifice, who I am because of it, how this gives me confidence to rest. It is all braided together in this beautiful, and sometimes very difficult, way.

There is so much more to say here, hence, the newsletter.

Per usual, I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. I don’t know how often I will write these. I would like to feature others’ writing. Particularly those who are not like me and come at rest from a different perspective. (Please, send people like that my way!)

The newsletter will be slightly longer than my blog posts. But they won’t always be long form content. I may include links, poems, ideas—anything that I think will encourage you in your pursuit of rest and, in that, your pursuit of Christ. And if you come across anything you think I should include in the letters, send those my way as well. I only have two eyes and only so much time, but together, I bet we can dig up some pretty great stuff.

Again, if you’re subscribed to my blog, you will get the newsletter automatically (you can always unsubscribe!). If you’re not subscribed to my blog, sign up for the newsletter below. You will only receive the newsletter. (You can sign up for my blog in the column on the right. Also, let’s see how many parenthesis I can use in one post.)

Thank you, friends. Here’s to yet another journey, one that I hope will lead to deeper rest for us all.

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The post Announcing A New Project: Breathing Room appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

I Am Not Good at Being Me, Except When I Write

I am not very good at being myself. But I am very good at being who people want me to be. I can walk into a room, read the situation and take on a persona. (I would probably be a great spy.)

A room of academics? I’ll try and act smart.

A room of Christians? I’ll talk about the Bible study I’m doing.

A room of not Christians? I’ll show all of my cynical-about-church cards.

A friend once told me that one of the reasons I do this might be because I am an INFJ (introvert-intuitive-feeling-judging) on Myers Briggs. INFJs are intuitive feelers and can’t help but sense what people need from us. Does this person need me to laugh at his jokes? Does this person need me to listen? Do I need to smile, nod, be quiet, be loud, have an opinion, not have one…?

If I don’t check myself first, I can find myself bowing to a slew of expectations and sacrificing my true self at the altar of pleasing others and also, blending in.

I cringe when someone isn’t reading a situation like I am and are just being themselves, however contrary to the environment her true self is. But I am also jealous of those of you who can do this, who can just be you no matter where you are and who you are with. How do you do it?

My chameleon tendency is probably the thing I like least about myself. I only became aware of it a few years ago, after doing some counseling. Until then, I just thought I was one of those people who got along with everybody.

Once I get to know people, I settle in. I reveal more of my true self and feel more at ease. Having moved to a new city this year, however, I have felt chameleon Andrea trying to come out in full force. In any new social situation, I ask myself the same old questions: What do these people want from me? What do they expect? How can I give them that person?

It’s where I go when I am insecure and unsure. And it truly slows down the friend-making process. After all, how can you get to know people when you are not letting them get to know you, the real you?

Now that I’ve grown a little more self-aware, I’m better than I once was, but it is still my greatest temptation. To not be me in hopes of filling the insatiable desire of others’ approval.

There is one place in this world where I have always been able to be myself: in my writing. Maybe this is why I’ve always loved it so much. Writing is my safe place. It is where who I am is free to roam. When I’m writing, like really writing, I do not ask, what does someone need to hear? What do they expect from? Who do they need me to be right now? I write what is in me. I write what I need to say, how I need to say it.

I am most me when I write.

The reactions to English Lessons from people I know have been interesting. A couple of friends have said things like, “Oh, this was so you. I could just hear you saying all of this.” And some people have been surprised, saying things like, “This wasn’t what I was expecting.” Some have even said it was better than what they were expecting. (Thank you?)

The former category of commenters knows me. The latter knows the me I’ve presented to them, the person I thought they wanted me to be. So when reading my true self in a book, they were surprised, and for the ones who said it was better than they expected, that’s probably because it was honest and real—something they perhaps haven’t seen in me.

This is why releasing English Lessons has been the best and most difficult experience of my life to date. The best because I was so totally me while writing it, and that’s freeing for someone who is not always herself. The most difficult because releasing it as a book, for the public, to read and review—publicly—on the internet was like releasing the real me to be read and reviewed, publicly.

I wonder if there is a place in your life where you have found yourself default to the chameleon. Your work or your art. Your friends or even your family. And I wonder if there is a place where you never have to switch on that mode. Where are you your best you? Your most full and true you? Where the real you is free. If so, I hope you go there often.

Some writers write for an audience. I do that in my freelance work all the time. It’s important if I’m going to reach my client’s market. But for my own work, work like English Lessons, I do not write for an audience. Perhaps I should. Perhaps this is what real, list-making authors do. But honestly, I don’t think I would know how to do that if I tried. Writing, my writing, is the one place I am completely myself. I will not take that away from me.

The post I Am Not Good at Being Me, Except When I Write appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

Between Home

I just returned from my first visit back to Nashville since I moved to Austin in January. I haven’t really written about this move since then. I got here and immediately I finished up edits on the book, got the launch team going, went to Israel for a couple of weeks, came back, geared up for release time. Etc. Etc.

Now that it’s done, I’ve had a chance to step back, take a breath and think about it.

It was strange. When my plane was landing in Nashville, I teared up a little. I had missed the city that had been my home for seven years. But by the time I had exited the concourse and was walking through the airport I’ve walked through dozens of times, I forgot I didn’t live there anymore. I switched into “I’m home” mode and had to remind myself as I waited for my luggage, “Wait, I don’t live here anymore.”

At the same time, it doesn’t really feel like I live in Austin either. I forget how long it takes to settle into a city. To be there long enough to get familiar with the highways and back roads, what areas to avoid during rush hour. (In Austin, that’s every area, and rush hour is all hours.)

Getting to know the rhythm of a city takes time and discovering your place in it takes even longer. Friends, where your favorite happy hour spot it, favorite pizza place, favorite running trail. All of those things are still question marks for me. Austin, to me, is only a wee seven months old.

Being in Nashville last week made me realize that yes, there’s no place like home, but also, sometimes no place feels like home. And what do we do in the in between? When we are post-home and pre-home, somehow, in between home?

It’s such an uncomfortable place, when you are landing but have not yet landed. I think the Andrea in her twenties would have found her way by forcing it. Getting involved in every little thing, volunteering, joining a small group and a women’s Bible study. Setting coffee and lunch dates whenever possible. Going to an event or party she didn’t actually want to go to but felt like she had to.

This isn’t how 31-year-old Andrea is. I’ve been taking this move at a glacial pace compared to my others. I haven’t “joined” anything. I haven’t gone out a whole lot. I haven’t even hung curtains in my room, though this has more to do with the age of my drywall than it does my lack of desire to nest.

I guess I’m doing what I said I would, but it’s still been uncomfortable at times. This knowing I am not supposed to be in my former city yet still wondering why I am in my current one.

This feeling does not only occur when we move, does it? The between feeling is usually occurring in one area of life or another: between jobs, between dreams, between relationships, between hopes.

Perhaps the worst part of feeling between home is also the best part. I cannot make a place home; it can only happen with time. In this, I have had to release—almost daily—a lot of the control that makes me feel good, comfortable and accomplished. Every time I get lost. Every time I find myself feeling a little bit lonely. Every time somebody tells me what neighborhood she lives in and I have no idea where it is. These are all reminders that this isn’t home yet, and I can’t make it be so overnight.

This is prime ground for God to work in, the ground that we have no tools or means to work in ourselves, the ground that we cannot force to futility. I have felt him here in the between home in a way I haven’t felt him elsewhere. I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s like, he’s just here. This steady presence, not speaking very loudly or doing any big amazing things, but somehow I feel that he is at work, digging, planting, sowing. In a way that only he can do.

Have you felt this?

There has been more peace in this between home season than I have felt for a long, long time. That doesn’t make sense, which is how I know I have finally left my field to the one who should be working it.

When I went back to Nashville last week and drove on the familiar highways and back roads, it felt good to be there, but I also knew that God had moved my story somewhere else. It was time to look out the car window and say goodbye, and when I landed back “home” in Austin, I felt like, for the first time, I could really say hello.

The post Between Home appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

Why I Get Off Social Media on the Weekends

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Every Friday at 5 p.m. I get off social media. I delete my apps from my phone and try my hardest to resist logging in on my laptop for the rest of the night and all day Saturday and Sunday. Then on Monday morning, around 8, I get back on. I reload the apps on my phone and scroll and stalk at will.

I am not perfect at it and there are definitely weekends—especially when the book was coming out—that I remain online, but for the most part, I am social media free on the weekends and have been for about a year now.

I can’t remember the exact catalyst for deciding to do this, but I think it started with an interview I read with The Lumineers. In it, front man Wesley Schultz said the band has started to ask its audiences to put their phones away during shows.

“I’m tired of all the Facebook and now Instagram posts,” Shultz said, “these dopamine hits of how great our lives are. It’s like you start running a PR campaign for your life, you start having a distance from it…We’ve been making a deal with the audience, saying, ‘We’re all here now, and this is getting in the way. It’s distracting me – and probably a lot of you. So let’s take a few moments and really be together and really enjoy this.’”

That fact that social media is a false, curated, happy-memories-only collection of your life is not news to any of us. We’ve been sending up the warning flare about this for years. But I gave this quote a double take because I used to work in PR. I ran PR campaigns for authors’ books. So his comparison highlighted this dark side of social media for me in a new way.

I do not want my life to become a PR campaign. I know how much work that takes, but social media is indeed the place where I can control my image. It’s impossible to be on social media and not curate your life through it.

Even the “real” or “vulnerable” posts are curated. I still think about what I will say and how. How others will receive it. What it will look like to those who follow me.

Posting about your experience on social media is not, and never will be, the same as simply having an experience.

As Shultz said, this all creates a distance between us and our lives. This isn’t good for anybody, especially a writer.

A writer’s job is to observe the world around her and communicate the truth that she sees. How can I do this when my face is more often than not in my phone, and I’m spending more time curating an experience than having one? What experience can I write about? And if social media puts my career at risk, is it really worth it?

All of this got me wondering about the time I spend on social media and what it’s really doing to me. What is it adding? What is it taking away? If social media is creating a barrier between me and my real life, how can I justify its presence?

These are all questions I’m still wrestling with. The end of the road could be a social media fast for an extended period of time or getting off altogether one day. I don’t know, but for now, being social media free on the weekends is a good baby step.

Other than not wanting to be the publicist for my own life, here are three reasons why I keep signing off on Fridays:

FOMO

My FOMO (fear of missing out) is at its worst on the weekends. If I don’t have anything fun to do on a Friday night and I see on Instagram that seemingly everyone else has something fun to do, I immediately feel less than. I feel ashamed that I’m binging Friday Night Lights and drinking red wine by myself.

However, if I am on my couch on a Friday night binging Friday Night Lights and drinking red wine by myself and I can’t see what everybody else is doing because I’m not on social media…boom, no FOMO.

Ignorance is not only bliss but also the solution to FOMO.

Rest

Sometimes during the week I take a “break” from work by scrolling through my social media feeds for a while. However, when I turn back to my work I never feel rested or refreshed. That’s because, I have learned, scrolling social media is not restful.

I’m sure there are studies to prove this but I don’t even need them because I’ve experienced it myself. Social media makes me feel more anxious than rested. I think this is because it so consistently makes feel like I’m not enough:

I’m not doing enough work.

I’m not posting enough styled images of my book on Instagram.

I’m not doing enough exercise.

I’m not making enough paleo recipes.

I’m not taking enough trips.

Being off of this hamster wheel of “not enough” for 48 hours makes me forget about everything I am not doing and every way that I am not enough of a woman, worker, writer, Christian—and it allows me to just be. And that, my friends, is true rest.

Sitting still, reading, journaling, walking outside. These activities never make me feel more anxious, and they never make me feel like I’m falling short.

I’ve realized that I cannot truly rest in front of a screen observing others’ lives. I must look away and experience the five senses in my real physical world.

See: read a book, watch a bird hop around on a branch

Touch: make a craft, fold laundry, bake cookies

Taste: eat a meal without checking my phone, eat one of those cookies I baked

Hear: listen to music while staring out the window or at the ceiling (not at my phone)

Smell: hang out by the oven where my cookies are baking, light a candle

These are the things that put me back in touch with reality and, therefore, bring true rest to my life.

Attention Span

I mentioned how social media can affect the writer because we can’t observe life if we’re not actually living it, but there’s another reason social media has been detrimental to my career: It is messing with my attention span on a dire level. It’s probably messing with yours too.

Next time you’re reading a book, do a little test. How many pages do you read before you reach for your phone? The results will probably alarm you. I sometimes don’t make it a full page before feeling the urge to pick up my phone and see how many likes I’ve gotten on a photo I posted 45 seconds ago.

I noticed this with my writing, too. I would write two sentences and then before I knew it I was opening an app on my phone to do who knows what. It’s like my brain can’t do sustained work anymore, and this is not good for my writing. Not good at all.

I’ve done my best work when I’ve let myself get lost in a deep hole of words, returning to the surface for air unsure of how long I’ve been under. My best work is certainly not done when I’m typing two words here, checking Insta, one paragraph there, checking Facebook.

Ernest Hemingway didn’t write like this. We shouldn’t either.

So, how many times did you check your phone while reading this post? I won’t be offended. I’d rather not tell you how many times I checked mine while writing it.

I’ve gotten to the point where I actually look forward to Fridays at 5 p.m. It’s like I’m giving myself a little vacation from the hustle and scramble and the comparison. I feel like I’m doing something good for my brain and something good for my soul. I feel like I actually have a weekend of rest. And yes, it feels a little odd when everyone else in the room is checking their phones and laughing at things and I’m just standing there, but I think there was a time when groups of people in rooms all functioned perfectly well, phoneless and looking at each other.

Maybe we’ll get there again one day.

The post Why I Get Off Social Media on the Weekends appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

I Want to Come to Your Book Club and Give You Presents!

Attention all book clubs,

Are you considering reading English Lessons in July or August? If so, I would love to know! For two reasons:

1. I would like to mail your group some custom made stationary as a gift. Isn’t it beautiful?

2. I would like to Skype (or FaceTime) into one your gatherings for a Q&A! Seriously. Just tell me when to be there and I’ll answer any questions you had about the book or the writing of the book. This is me waving at you from Skype…

(Yes, I got bangs. This is what happens when your hair appointment is the day after your birthday and you are coping with the reality of age.)

Let me know if you’re in by contacting me here or even leaving a comment below with your email address. If you’re not in a book club but you know a friend who is, feel free to forward this post to them to let them in on the news.

Yay for summer! Yay for reading!

The post I Want to Come to Your Book Club and Give You Presents! appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

What Happens When We Love Others First, And God Second

by Alyssa DeLosSantos

Dear Younger Me,

I see you caving under the weight of all you are trying to get “right.” You are worn out and discouraged from trying to earn your worth. You may bristle at what I’m about to say because these words might feel like an ill-fitting garment, but I’m begging you to lean in and listen carefully so you can experience freedom from the grip of striving and unbelief.

It’s not all up to you. That’s a lie you have believed far too long. You don’t have to prove you are smart, capable, or worthy. When you accepted the love of Christ, you were immediately justified. All your past failures and regrets were canceled. I know that’s more than you can comprehend, but you were acquitted.

Because your acquittal is hard for you to receive, you have been seduced into believing your works are the bedrock of your worth. That exhaustion you feel is from carrying an invisible burden into every arena of your life. All the striving to make yourself presentable is leading you to look more like other people, and what you think is acceptable in church culture, rather than reflect your Creator. This has left you burned out and discouraged.

You have worked diligently to conform to the norm, but that unsettled feeling you can’t shake is begging for your attention. The discomfort that nags at you is a combination of your gifting and the leading of the Holy Spirit. Follow your instinct to chase God outside the lines. Don’t worry about the side-eye from others, you weren’t made to conform to their expectations. You were created with a unique gifting and you are the best version of you when you are walking in that endowment.

Please back away from your inclination to satisfy others. People pleasing leads to dead ends and heartaches. Choose to let the voice of God be the loudest in your life. Lean into the Word and then exercise your yes as it pleases God. You will avoid painful breaks and disappointments if you value your obedience to Him over the comfort of the temporary approval of others.

I give you permission to sit down when others stand up, or stand up when others are seated. Go outside your comfort zone, love the unlovable, dip your toes into the rushing waters and trust God’s provision over your own understanding. Don’t wait for a cheering section. Don’t fashion yourself in the reflection of any man or woman. Be encouraged by others, but don’t make others your god.

Sweet one-your God delights in you. He quiets you with His love and he rejoices over you with joy. He is the shield about you, the lifter of your head, and the lover of your soul. Linger in his love for you. Once you’ve been filled up with the immeasurable, unfailing love of Jesus, walk confidently in your calling. Love God. Love others. Don’t get that order reversed.

You are worth the cost Jesus paid on the cross. It was enough. Rest in his provision. Trust the reliability of Calvary. It will keep you from the crash and burn that awaits a life filled with the temporary buzz of people pleasing.

With love,

The Older You

***

I love Alyssa. A lot. That’s her on the left. I’ve known her for a long time as one of my mom’s friends, but now she is my friend too. Whenever I would go back to my home church while I was visiting my parents and saw Alyssa in the foyer, I would make a bee line in her direction. Alyssa doesn’t do fake small talk. She is one of the most real women I know. That’s why I bee line it in her direction wherever she is. Because I know she’ll be a reprieve from any surface level conversation I might be having. Alyssa is also a really good writer and speaker. You can learn more about her on her blog here. She is also giving away copies of English Lessons this week so be sure to enter to win on her site!

 

The post What Happens When We Love Others First, And God Second appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

Look Past the Clearance Jesus

by Sarah Brooks

***

If you were to Google stock photos of Good Christian Teenagers, my high school yearbook picture would show up. I was the World’s Best.

Someone needs a volunteer for the mission trip? Camp? Retreat? Bible study? Prayer team? Small group? Sign me up.

There’s a new ministry? It’s called Ignite? Elevate? Revolution? Engage? Impact? I’ll be there.

I grew up in a church culture unlike my parents’.

My parents’ generation was all about the do-do-do. They had to do enough to be saved (or not do enough to stay saved). They studied the Bible to keep all the rules.

My generation, on the other hand, swung whole-heartedly to the it’s-been-done, come-as-you-are culture. The rules weren’t important, so we didn’t study the Bible.

And – first off – is there not some middle ground here?

Secondly, can you really swing too much in the direction of grace? No.

H o w e v e r . (And this is a big however.)

The grace I knew and learned was cheap. It didn’t cost me anything.

To clarify, grace really is free. To anyone, any time. That’s the scandal of the Christian faith.

But our response to grace is not.

Following Jesus is quite costly.

True discipleship costs us our pride. And reputation. And control. And security. And comfort.

All of which I hadn’t given up and didn’t realize until I got to college.

Combine the newfound freedom of adulthood, the different religions and worldviews I was encountering, an alarm that didn’t set itself on Sundays, and…well…my comfortably shallow faith didn’t hold up well. Like a $2 umbrella in a monsoon.

I was flipped inside out and sideways, unable to right myself. I didn’t know how to bend the spokes of my foundation back into position; it felt permanently distorted.

What I did know was that my “Jesus is my buddy” meme-like faith wasn’t cutting it anymore.

I eventually walked away, too overwhelmed and unmotivated to figure it out.

By the time I graduated, I was in a rough place spiritually and I. didn’t. care.

Apathy is such an effective tool for Satan. He throws meaningless periphery at us until we become passionate in the distractions, providing the cover he needs to sneak in and steal our motivation to fight for what really matters.

This was me. Far more passionate about finding the perfect apartment than rebuilding my own foundation.

Also me, though, was a new bride moving to her husband’s hometown.

So – as all Good Southern People do – I started going back to church. I didn’t want to; I wanted to save face.

And yet.

Slowly, week after week, I began to see Jesus clearly. Feel his presence tangibly.

I saw him in people whose lives were different because of their faith. People who were refreshingly weird.

People whose authentic imperfection revealed an identity in something bigger than themselves.

People who asked hard questions. Who loved me both as I was and enough not to leave me there.

People who spoke and loved and spent and grieved and hoped differently because of Jesus.

The thing is, I heard about Jesus my whole life. I liked what he offered, too. Free grace! I’m all about a good bargain.

But unlike a bargain sweater, bargain faith sucks. It doesn’t satisfy. (And do we want it too, really? Do we want to devote our lives to a small, off-brand God?)

No, the freedom and hope and newness that Christ offers comes only when grace takes root.

When the cross becomes less like a charm on a necklace, more like the sacrifice we pattern our lives after.

If I could go back and tell myself – or anyone in that season – anything, I would say:

KEEP LOOKING.

Look for the real Jesus.

Not the nice one who gives us nice, big, holy goosebumps once a week; the powerful one who defeated death. The one who was brutally tortured and murdered for you and for me. The one whose sacrifice demands a response.

It is this Jesus that I have chosen to follow, and it was the crumbling of my faith that led me to him.

It wasn’t until I let go of his cheap substitute – the one that allowed me to be me, wholly unscathed and comfortably selfish – that I began to see what true, redemptive, transformative, gospel power was.

(And I can assure you: transformed me is WAY more charming than regular me. Regular me is insufferable.)

If you are done with the cultish fluffiness of church, same.

If you are done with Christian hypocrisy, same.

You can be done with those, but don’t be done with Jesus. (Funny how the two don’t always go hand in hand.)

Don’t stop looking for him. He’s there. Working in and through people all around you.

And he has never stopped looking for you.

***

Sarah is another ACU alumnus who I am so glad contributed to this series! I’ve been following Sarah’s writing for a while. In fact, I realized as I was reading her post that our paths didn’t seem to cross much in college and I’ve really gotten to know her through her writing, in our post-college years. She is funny and smart and engaging and keeps it real–something I appreciate so so much. Sarah, we’ve should’ve hung out more in our ACU days. Check out Sarah’s blog today where she is hosting a giveaway for English Lessons!

Sarah Brooks is a mom of three young boys by day and blogger, speaker, and social media advocate by night and at nap time. She is passionate about faith, raising tiny humans, and mentoring teenagers, all of which she writes about – in no particular order – at lifeasoflate.com. She, her husband, and their brood of gentlemen call Fort Worth, TX home.

The post Look Past the Clearance Jesus appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

When Doing Everything Right Is No Longer…Right

by Devi Duerrmeier

***

It was a solid concrete mass of a highway that got you there. Straight on Highway 412, a right onto Holly Street and then a slight left on West University Avenue. On the left across from the cathedral is a graveyard. Concrete tombstones dotted the green field, there were trees and a gravel path that wove between the plots. You went there to run and to think, brown and red leaves crunching under your feet in the autumn and frozen air burning up your lungs in the winter. It was a quiet place for your thoughts. No one would know about the fear, the anxieties, the despair. The graveyard was almost always empty.

University started when you were 19, a Sri Lankan missionary kid from the Philippines. Your mother hugged you goodbye on the concrete pavement in front of the women’s dorm, and you walked inside, into an American life on a small, Christian campus. There were daily classes, the all-you-can drink soda machines in the cafeteria, shopping at Wal-Mart and chapel services twice a week.

It has taken us 12 years since graduation to begin unraveling the space between the days.

Your life was going to be a mistake-free, dead straight road, heading in one direction. Jesus, heaven, peace. Was that the destination? There were visible off ramps and some detour signs, but you couldn’t possibly take a break from the straight road. If you did, you were lost with no way back. Your certainty was your security.

I see your fears, the ones that keep you inside the four walls of your dorm room. You’re afraid of making a mistake, of failing, you’re afraid of sin. Earning your way into belonging and love is the only way to satisfy your fears, but you can’t cope with the work it involves. So you wait through it. There is an unknown world of culture and calling right outside the door, and you don’t know how to navigate it. You think that by living less, by limiting your decisions, by staying safe you will keep yourself away from the unknown towns on the side of the highway.

One day you get off the straight Arkansas road, fly to the far side of the sea, travel around the world. You get married, you have children, and as the days tick over, you fight to live.

But I need you to know that there are so many mistakes, so many failures, and sin that so easily entangles, and I’m sorry, but this is life.

It is full of darkness.

You learned to fear the things that seemed big, so you stayed away from a second drink and didn’t date, but no one told you that selfishness breeds loneliness and pride only leads to destruction and your years can waste away in bitterness. You have no idea how much you will struggle to be truly honest with the man you love, how easy it is to lie about the small things, how easy it will be to not keep your word. You will not always be honest with friends, you will play a role you were not supposed to fill, and when you can’t take it anymore, you will run away from expectations you cannot meet. You will fail so many people.

Darkness will wrestle with you. It will not win, but it will be there. It has to be there. You cannot know the light until you’ve sat in the darkness.

There is a life waiting outside the highway. It will often look like a wilderness, but someone else is there. Did God grab hold of you? Did you grab hold of him? Theologians spend centuries debating how it works, and all you know is that you don’t know, but you are not in the wilderness alone.

His love and his truth remake you away from the straight road, in your mistakes and failures and sins, he is working.

It looks like asking for forgiveness. Often. You will have to learn how to belong to friends, community, husband and family, and learning how to belong to people when you make mistakes is a painful, beautiful lesson in grace. You learn that you don’t have to trust everyone, that building a friendship takes time. Endings become comfortable, you know now that not all things, not all people, not all relationships last forever.

I need you to know that the mistakes and failures lead to redemption and hope – this is the long road of wisdom and experience that you cannot see in a fall and spring semester. But when you turn around and look at the decades, you see the dead things made new, the ashes turning into beauty. It takes time for the spirit of despair to become a garment of praise.

So go ahead and live. Take the back roads and the tree-lined boulevards. Skip on gravel paths, fly down the autobahn, you cannot get lost because you don’t travel alone. He is leading you home.

***

I met Devi where I met Sharon, in Alaska at the writers’ workshop. We were roommates for the week and by the end of the trip, I had a new friend. Devi is funny and smart and thoughtful and kind. Her writing style just puts me in this trance, in a good way. I am so so grateful she could contribute to this series. Be sure to check out her blog where she is hosting an English Lessons giveaway today!

Devi Duerrmeier is a writer, thinker, photographer, wife and mother. After a lifetime of moving, she now lives in Melbourne, Australia with her two boys and husband. She writes about food, family and faith at the table at mydailybreadandbutter.com, and you can connect with her on Facebook or Instagram. 

The post When Doing Everything Right Is No Longer…Right appeared first on Andrea Lucado.

The Difference Between Worshiping God and Worshiping Comfort

 

by Jordan Harrell

***

Dear 19-Year-Old Me,

You’re probably wearing a t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, a ponytail wagging back-and-forth as you bee-bop around your Christian university in between chapel and the campus center. The whole concept of “college” as an educational experience is beyond you, but you sincerely enjoy it nonetheless. Yours is a good place full of good people. A safe place. You are good at being safe.

What you lack in social skills you make up for in kindness and wit. You have enough of a wild streak to make you fun but an equal amount of self-righteousness to make you just a bit stuck up, even if you hide it well. You resent the fact that you inherited your mother’s guilty conscience and crave the freedom to make terrible decisions. You are keenly aware of your weaknesses (still are) and paranoid that others might find them out, too. Life tip: it’s okay if they do. They might even like you more. People don’t appreciate perfection nearly as much as you think.

You haven’t felt God much in your life yet. You’ve heard countless sermons and been to boat-loads of Christian camps. You’ve gone on a couple of mission trips that involved you and your giggling friends passing buckets of mud to boys you had crushes on in the mornings and playing soccer with the locals in the evenings. You’ve even cautiously raised your hands up in the air while worshiping once or twice.

But if I asked you to pinpoint one time in your life in which you genuinely felt God’s presence, a moment that proved his real-ness to you, well, trust me… You’ve got nothin’.

Remember how good you are at being safe? Caution often impedes the miraculous. It’s hard to spot God if you never need him.

Somewhere between 18 and 31, you figure a few things out about faith and how to get it. If you’d like a head-start, here are a few things you should know:

Use it or lose it. Faith, that is. You’re in the best physical shape of your life right now. But soon, you will know what happens to muscles when they are not used. Ever. They get squishy and puny. They get lost. Like, literally, you won’t be able to find them. Faith is no different. You want your faith to grow? You have to do things that require it. You have to work it out. Your cushy life right now does not require faith. When was the last time you prayed fervently for God to intervene in miraculous ways? When was the last time you NEEDED Him? When was the last time you cried out to your Father and saw Him SHOW UP? You will. But not until you …

Stop trying to be so Christian and start trying to be more like Christ. Hang out with the outcasts instead of the in-crowd. Be proud of your unpopular opinions instead of worrying about fitting in. Be more concerned with saving souls than saving seats on Sundays. Stop judging people for their decisions and start walking alongside them and urging them on. Your goal is not to be the best Christian in the crowd but to show the crowd more of Christ (Spoiler Alert: You are not him).

Get uncomfortable. Holy comfort zones, girlfriend. You are the reigning queen of comfort. Have you ever noticed growth doesn’t occur on the peaks? You never see vegetation up there on the snow-caps. All the good stuff, the green and hearty stuff, happens down in the valleys. Lean into the uncomfortable. Let God undo you. And if you start feeling comfortable again, find a way out. Comfort is the Enemy’s home for you. Don’t let him steal your growth.

Trust the hard. Sometimes you completely bypass the uncomfortable and head straight into the hard. All those doubts you have about your faith will be answered in the hard. When the only explanation is God’s hand coming down from the heavens and injecting his goodness into such badness, the hard becomes a breeding ground for trust, depth, submission, vulnerability, and surprisingly, joy. You will not become You until you’ve hit the hard. God will not really become your God until the hard.

Before I go, because I know your 19-year-old heart, let me leave you with a little bit of love. You don’t right now, but I want you to know in your bones that you are exactly as you should be. Don’t insult your creator by wishing he’d made you any differently. Trust him. You are beautifully and wonderfully made for a specific purpose in his kingdom. Pursue that purpose passionately.

Oh, and watch out for leeches in the Frio River this summer. Not a good look.

Your Older, Wiser, More Boring Self,

Jordan

***

Jordan and I went to that same Christian university. That’s how I know her. I remember we had a journalism class together and for some reason we were all reading our writing out loud. I don’t remember what we were writing about but when Jordan read hers, I remember thinking, “Wow, she’s a good writer.” I’ve loved following her writing over the years. She is one of those writers who can write about motherhood and still relate to those of us who don’t have kids. That’s skill. Be sure to check out her blog today where she is hosting an English Lessons giveaway!

Jordan and her husband, Clark, live in Sealy, Texas, with their three kids, ages 5, 4, and 2. She is a math teacher turned stay-at-home-mom and blogs about faith, family, and where the two intertwine at jordanharrell.com.

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