The Danger of Success

It's been an incredible six months for me as a writer.

• Bearing God's Name is on its 5th printing in under 6 months. (And while the average print size is only 1000 copies, the need for multiple printings clearly indicates that it has repeatedly exceeded the publisher's expectations.) 
• It's received rave reviews and generated a spate of podcast interviews. 
• This week InterVarsity Press offered me a second book contract. 
• I've been invited to write for Cambridge University Press as well as Bloomsbury.
• Two other essays and two book projects are in various stages of preparation for printing. 

Most importantly, I hear from grateful readers almost every day. It's been fun and really gratifying to see people respond so positively to my work. I'll be honest -- sales stats and accolades can be intoxicating! How do I stay grounded?

A couple of months ago I listened to an episode of the Disrupters podcast in which Esau McCaulley interviewed his doctoral advisor, N. T. Wright. One moment in their conversation grabbed my attention. Wright was speaking of a semester he spent in Jerusalem on Sabbatical in which he was working on his massive book Jesus and the Victory of God. He explains, "I was trying to write the introduction to the Jesus book . . . and I remember one day as I was saying my prayers, kneeling down at the prayer desk in my little room in Jerusalem and prayed 'Oh, dear Lord, am I really supposed to be doing one volume of introduction, and then a book about Jesus, and another volume about Paul?'" Although he does not regularly hear the audible voice of God, Wright received an unmistakable reply: "Well, yes, except it won't just be three."

I love this. Academics so rarely talk about the spiritual side of their work. I treasure this window into Tom Wright's prayer life as it relates to his writing. I have always seen writing as an act of worship, alongside teaching and mentoring and leading. On the front end, prayer fuels my brainstorming, proposing, and beginning. As I write, I pray all the more -- for clarity, insight, and clear communication. As the work is published, I pray that others will find benefit in it. When God answers these prayers and I begin to see fruit from it -- that is, when the work meets success -- it is essential that I continue to see it as an act of worship.

This weekend I re-read a classic: C. S. Lewis' The Great Divorce. It's helping me recalibrate my heart in the midst of these heady days. Lewis' warning comes by way of an imaginative story in which people from hell visit heaven and decide whether or not they want to stay. Many of the characters in his story are so committed to their illusions of a meaningful life that they literally choose to go back to hell rather than give them up to live in heaven.

Some refuse heaven because it would mean forgiving people who hurt them. Others are so preoccupied with themselves that they cannot imagine a world that does not revolve around them. One man is utterly horrified to learn that in the few years since his death his artistic genius has been wholly forgotten. He sets out to return to hell straightaway so that he can drum up more interest in his work.

How could someone who produced such great works of art or music or literature on earth be so sadly uninterested in heaven? I found the mentor's words a sober warning:

Ink and catgut and paint . . . are dangerous stimulants. Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about him. For it doesn't stop at being interested in paint, you know. They sink lower--become interested in their own personalities and then in nothing but their own reputations. - C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce, 81

Contrasting this, in Lewis' vision of heaven, people are utterly uninterested in themselves and instead deeply interested in others. They are so captivated by knowing Christ that they have let go of every accolade and ambition of their own.

The mentor tells of a fountain higher in the hills which "when you have drunk of it you forget forever all proprietorship in your own works. You enjoy them just as if they were someone else's: without pride and without modesty" (82). No one is distinguished. "The glory flows into everyone."

This thought gripped me. I was compelled to write Bearing God's Name because I believed with all my heart that the church at large needed to rediscover the value of the Old Testament and meet the God of Grace in its pages. But the success of this book presents the very real danger that I'd begin to enjoy the writing more than the reality to which it points, becoming fixated on sales and reviews and accolades to the extent that I lose sight of the message. If my "ownership" of this book will be lost in the the new creation, can I begin even now to let go of it? Can I view it without pride or modesty, but just as if it belongs to someone else? I must at least try.

The alternative is terrifying.

Author Interview: Kristen Padilla, "Now That I'm Called"

Today I had the privilege of interviewing Kristen Padilla about her book entitled Now That I'm Called: A Guide for Women Discerning a Call for Ministry (IVP 2018). I have already recommended her book to students multiple times, so it was great to hear the backstory of the book.

Since the particular roles open to women differ from one denomination to another, Kristen explores ways that women from all kinds of churches can walk in obedience to God's call to participate in his mission. In her book, she says, "I want people, especially women, to understand that receiving this kind of call does not mean that they must hold a church office -- the role of a pastor, elder, or deacon, for example. The Holy Spirit gives gifts to the people of God, and these gifts can be exercised outside of a particular office in the church" (13). Her approach makes this book suitable for women from churches across the theological spectrum.

What inspired you to write this book? I was inspired to write this book for several reasons. First, I wrote this book because I saw a need for it. When I was a young woman sensing a call to vocational ministry, I had no one and no resource to guide me through the discernment process, the questions pertaining to being a woman in ministry, and next steps. As I say in my book, I felt like I was in a dark room with my arms outstretched trying to find my way to the door. By the time I was in seminary and had conversations with other women my age or younger called to ministry, I realized my story was not unique—it was the story of many women called to ministry. Thus, God put the idea and passion for this book in my heart, and ten years later it finally came to fruition. Second, I wrote this book out of a deeply held biblical conviction that God calls women to gospel ministry and that the Church of Jesus Christ needs women who are called by God to engage in gospel ministry in the church and world. I wanted to write a book that would encourage and aid these women in the journeys of discernment for the purpose of equipping future generations of female ministers of the gospel.

What was the most difficult aspect of the project? The most difficult aspect of writing was perhaps the most obvious one: writing a chapter on 1 Timothy 2:11-15. As many know, this passage has been used to silence and forbid women from many avenues of gospel ministry. It is the battleground where most of the fighting regarding women in ministry takes place. In my mind, I could not write a book for women called to ministry without addressing this passage of Scripture. However, I wanted to demonstrate a fidelity to the authority of Scripture and a humble and generous interpretative posture and tone. I also wanted to address head-on problematic and false interpretations that have held many women from pursuing ministry, namely that the female gender is by nature more easily deceived and that a certain “creation order” is a fail-proof guard against false teaching.

Author Kristen Padilla

What do you want readers to take away from your book? I want readers to walk away with a theological and biblical vision for women in ministry. I want them to see in Scripture that God’s plan has always included women and that women play an equally vital and important role in gospel ministry. My prayer is that women who read the book walk away with confidence grounded in Scripture and theology to follow God’s call to serve him in whatever role he has called them in obedience and humility.

Your book occupies the unpopular middle ground between the debate over women in ministry–not progressive enough to satisfy those who ordain women and too progressive for those who don't. What was your heart behind writing for those in this middle space? This is a great question. One of the first responses I received from the book was told to a friend of mine, “I wasn’t sure if she was complementarian or egalitarian.” A compliment or a criticism? I made the decision early on to write a book from that neither-complementarian-nor-egalitarian space or the in-between space for two reasons. First, I wanted the book to meet women in churches and traditions on both sides of this interpretive divide. My goal is to address the beginning of one’s call to vocational ministry—to lay the groundwork, if you will. Therefore, secondly, I did not see the need to talk from a strictly complementarian or egalitarian perspective, whatever that means today, since my goal wasn’t to talk about ordination or roles per se. I believe these two approaches have more in common than is often acknowledged. Most women in these so-called camps are tired of the debate and want to focus on the question: does God call women like me to serve him in ministry? I actually believe that this “in-between” space includes many women. This does not mean I do not have a particular interpretation of 1 Timothy 2:11-15 nor does it mean I am somehow theologically neutral when it comes to the roles of women in ministry. However, I did not believe it would be helpful to advocate from one perspective or another given the purpose of this book. Some will “blacklist” books if they are written from the other “side.” Even though I tried to stay in that middle space, I knew that for some my book would not be complementarian or egalitarian enough and would therefore be censored. This is indeed what has happened. In spite of this, I strongly believe that there is a strong middle and ecumenical ground where conversations about women in ministry can and should take place. I pray the posture and position I take in the book draws people together rather than exclude them.

In the year since your book has released, you've undoubtedly heard from many readers. What would you like to say to those who haven't read it yet? Or what would you want to add to what you've said in the book? Yes, I have been very fortunate and blessed to have heard from readers around the world, namely women for whom the book came at a time in their life when they needed biblical encouragement and guidance concerning the next steps in ministry. Hearing personal testimonies from readers is an author’s great reward. To those who haven’t read the book yet, I would of course say, “Read it!” On a more serious note, I try to bring out from Scripture stories of women called by God to proclaim the word of God for the people of God. There are many examples of women in Scripture doing just that—proclaiming a message from God to edify people in their day, and, by God’s design as Holy Scripture, edifying us today! In my book, I put the stories of these women next to stories of well-known men in Scripture to show a common pattern in how he calls and uses both men and women for his purposes. It would be a shame if the discussion about women’s place in God’s kingdom was limited to a few verses from the New Testament and did not take into account all of Scripture. If I could revise the book today, I would add more examples of women God uses in Scripture whose words are included for our edification today, such as the wise woman of 2 Samuel 20 and the Queen of Sheba. I want to continue to shine a light on the ways in which God is using women in his kingdom, which is why I am glad to say that I am writing a second book with Dr. Timothy George on women of the Reformation. My prayer is that the Church would be filled with God-called, theologically trained spiritual mothers who, alongside spiritual fathers, are equipping the saints for the work of ministry.

Thanks, Kristen, for writing this book and giving us a glimpse of your journey!

A Foot in Two Worlds

Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don't be impressed with yourself. Don't compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.  —Galatians 6:4-5, The Message

Recently our entire campus participated in the Global Connections Conference, an opportunity to hear about some of the greatest needs in the world and consider how God might be calling us to contribute. It was at a conference just like this that Danny and I first explored the possibility of mission work, initiating what would become 15 years of service with SIM. Ironically, we resigned from SIM in order for me to pursue a full-time faculty position teaching Bible. I say "ironically" because now more than ever my work is leaning in to the ministry for which we long prepared and for which I'm best suited. By opening up the Scriptures with my students, I'm addressing the acute need of this generation to understand and encounter the Living Word.

But finding our identity and calling as a believer is not a one-time-fits-all experience. With every changing season of our lives or changing circumstance, we may find ourselves asking again: Who am I? How is God calling me to invest my time and training? I was back in that space during the conference, needing clarity about my role, prayerfully considering the path ahead. A barrage of opportunities had me feeling muddled. 

Foot in Two Worlds (Photo: C Imes)

Bishop Dr. Joseph D'Souza began by challenging us to see what God sees and to commit ourselves to doing something about it. In the course of sharing his own story, D'Souza said one thing that especially piqued my interest:  "I am called to have one foot firmly planted in the church and the other firmly planted in the world." His point was not prescriptive; he was not trying to impose his calling on anyone else. But his words brought my own calling more clearly into focus:

I work at the intersection between the church and the academy in the field of biblical studies. I am called to have one foot firmly planted in the church and the other firmly planted in the academy, with my work forming a bridge between these worlds. My aim in the church is to be and invite others to be lovers of God -- loving God with our minds as well as our actions. My aim in the academy is to produce quality scholarship, representing Christ well. I write and speak across this spectrum -- for laypeople, college and seminary students, pastors, and fellow academics -- showing the relevance of academic inquiry to those in the church and modeling respectful but discerning engagement with the academy.

Having this kind of clarity frees me to respond to invitations to speak, teach, write, endorse, edit, and consult without guilt. Rather than asking, 'What would my colleague do?' or 'What would my peer do at another institution?' or 'How will this look on my CV?' I can ask, 'Does this fit with my mission?' or 'Is this the work to which I've been called?'

I'm standing on the cusp of summer now. My grading is finished. In a few hours my students will have graduated and/or headed home. I have a whole slate of projects lined up for the summer that I am eager to begin! These projects align with my mission. A lot of no's and the occasional strategic yes has put me in a joyful place. Having made the careful exploration Paul describes, I'm eager to sink right in!

Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. --Galatians 6:4, The Message

Have you taken the time lately to prayerfully reconsider your involvements in light of how God wired you? The clarity of a personal mission statement can bring so much freedom. Instead of feeling pulled in multiple directions by every request for your time, you can develop a confident "no" that will make room for the right "yes." 

Bridging the Gap between Academy and Church

A bridge is a powerful metaphor for the ministry of teaching.

Suspension Bridge at Bowl &
Pitcher State Park, Spokane, WA
(photo: C Imes)

I'm no civil engineer, but I'm certain that a stable suspension bridge must have a firm foundation on both sides of whatever chasm it's designed to cross. For me, that means having a solid grasp of the material I'm teaching from a rigorous, scholarly perspective but being able to explain what I've discovered in ordinary language.

Getting a PhD helped me to drill down deep into bedrock. I left no stone unturned in my quest to understand my central passage. I also thought about implications for a range of other issues.

But my Freshman students would glaze over if I waxed eloquent about the obscure sources I consulted in doing my work. They need to hear how the Scriptures matter for their own lives using words they (mostly) already know. They need something more accessible.

And so I build a bridge. Using stories, I tell them what I've learned and why it matters, bringing scholarship across to the shore where they live. Using their questions, I lead them back over the bridge to access scholarly sources for themselves.

Crossing Bridges
Bowl & Pitcher State Park
(photo: C Imes)

Being a "popularizer" doesn't usually earn one points in academia. Sometimes it undermines credibility or arouses suspicion. Thankfully, that's not the case at my institution.

I feel a strong passion to communicate with those who want to understand the Bible but will never enroll in seminary. It's why I'm writing a book with InterVarsity Press that will tell the big, wide world what I learned in grad school. It's also why I keep blogging.

I once heard Lauren Winner speak at an academic conference on writing for general audiences. She recommended that academics publish their scholarly work first and then produce down-to-earth books. This ensures that they are taken seriously by the academy, while remaining helpful to the wider culture. I'm following her advice. My dissertation came out in print in March. Another scholarly essay is nearing publication. Most of my attention this summer has been on my new down-to-earth book.

I don't think every academic is called to build bridges. Some are uniquely wired to spend longer hours in their "ivory towers," away from the tyranny of the urgent, producing good work that will benefit other academics over the long haul. This, too, is an important calling. (See Jen Pollock Michel's great article on this topic in Christianity Today). We must carefully discern our own gifts and our own limits, investing our time where it makes the most sense.

We need ivory towers. Each generation must wrestle anew with truth and beauty and meaning.
But we also need bridges, lest the insights of careful study fail to meet people where they live.

My Tribute: Snapshots of Billy Graham

At Billy Graham's funeral yesterday, his daughter Ruth said this: "One thing I've learned this week is that everyone has a Billy Graham story."

I am no exception. Mine is a series of snapshots that double as a memoir.

Billy Graham at Mile High Stadium
(Photo: AP/Aaron E. Tomlinson)

5th grade. Mile High Stadium, Denver, 1987. I sat beside my Dad in the choir section and listened to Graham preach to thousands. I remember that I wanted to go forward in response to the altar call and Dad wouldn't let me. It's true, I had already been a Christian for more than a handful of years, and I had prayed the sinner's prayer with regularity. Dad said the altar call was for those who were responding for the first time. I remember thinking that by responding, we'd be letting the world know that this Jesus was worth following publicly, that this Jesus made it worth getting lost in a stadium. I wanted those going forward to know it was a decision worth making, and that they were not alone.

High school. Babysitting. I was totally absorbed in a televised crusade. In the corner of the screen was a woman interpreting Graham's message into sign language. By this point I knew some sign language, and I was trying to follow along. Trying, that is, until the little boy I was supposed to be watching said, "Carmen, look!" While I was absorbed in the crusade he had become a pirate, complete with a permanent-black-marker patch colored in around his eye. I gasped, but soon learned that permanent marker can be scrubbed off skin if you do it right away. After that I focused on what I was being paid to do.

College. Dating. I will never forget my shock when my boyfriend (not Danny) said, "Who's Billy Graham?" Was it possible to come into adulthood in the 90's without knowing him? It was, apparently, though I couldn't imagine how.

Billy Graham Library, 2008

Missions Training. We flew into Charlotte, NC from Portland, OR, stunned to see Bible verses adorning the concourses. Stunned again to see that the main street leaving the airport was Billy Graham Parkway. Welcome to the Bible Belt! Later, after 2 1/2 years of ministry in the Philippines with SIM, we were transferred to Charlotte. It felt odd to be missionaries in a city with a street named Billy Graham. In 2007, the Billy Graham Library opened, a museum where one could experience his years of ministry and hear the gospel message. If you watched Graham's funeral, you saw its iconic barn in the background. We visited several times, but I most remember going with my grandparents, because after the tour we scoured the archives to find evidence that Graham had preached in the Netherlands when my Oma was a young woman, just after WW2. We found no record, but she remembers.

Seminary. Gordon-Conwell. Billy Graham co-founded my school -- the same Graham who said if he had it all to do over again, he'd study more. He spoke so frequently that there was little time for learning. I wonder which impact will prove greater in the long run -- the millions who "met Jesus" after hearing his simple gospel message or the thousands who have been and are still being deeply trained for pastoral and academic ministries in the seminary he started? Deep and wide, deep and wide, there's a fountain flowing deep and wide . . .

Billy Graham Center, Wheaton College (Photo: C Imes)

Graduate School. Wheaton College. My classes were held in the Billy Graham Center, just a few floors above the Billy Graham Museum. I defended my dissertation on the fourth floor. Graham and I are both alumni of this flagship of evangelicalism. He once said, "The years that Ruth and I spent at Wheaton College were among the most important of our lives." Mine, too.

Publishing. The magazine I find most consistently thoughtful and substantive for a general audience is Christianity Today, a magazine founded by Billy Graham. Within hours of his death, a special commemorative issue went to press. While his preaching was simple, the magazine is not. Deep and wide . . .

Prairie College. Our school President and his wife were invited to attend the funeral yesterday. My colleague, Ron Nickel, Professor of Digital Media, was head photographer for the event, which was also live-streamed on our campus. Graham's influence reaches even to our little school on the Alberta prairies. We are linked by a common purpose: the ministry of the gospel.

Graham's passing prompts all of us to look back and remember. What is your Billy Graham story? It also prompts us to consider how we can carry on his legacy. Yesterday his daughter Ann Graham Lotz so eloquently pledged to devote herself to the work of sharing the good news of Jesus.

Billy Graham Center at Night (Photo: C Imes)

Graham is most known for his preaching to millions. He took the simple gospel message far and wide. But these snapshots point to another dimension of his ministry: the founding of institutions that will have a lasting impact by going deep. I carry on his legacy by teaching Bible classes in a Christian college, training others to serve wherever the need is greatest, and by investing in the institutional health of my school. I carry on his legacy when I have occasion to preach. I carry on his legacy by writing for Christian publishers. I carry on his legacy by investing financially in mission work. By teaching, speaking, writing, and giving, I hope to carry on what Graham started: a ministry of the gospel that is both deep and wide.

Trust Without Borders

Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders. 
Let me walk upon the water wherever you would call me. 
(Hillsong, "Oceans")

If your church is like ours, you've sung this song innumerable times. Did you mean it? How did God answer your prayer?

He has answered ours in a very surprising way.

In March we announced to our financial supporters that we were taking a step of faith by resigning from SIM, the mission we've served with since 2002. After 15 wonderful years of ministry with SIM, we felt God moving us into full-time teaching ministry. We hoped that a full-time job would materialize for me, but even if it didn't, we knew what we were called to do: Danny would focus on keeping our household running smoothly so that I could devote my energy to teaching. Lots of people step out in faith to become missionaries; our step of faith meant no longer raising financial support. Danny moved down to part-time with SIM while we explored possibilities.

We knew what we wanted -- to stay planted in Oregon and keep teaching (preferably with a full-time salary), to keep investing in these students and these relationships. But when no doors opened in Oregon for a full-time job, we began checking job postings in other locations. We knew this year could be a roller-coaster. Most schools post academic jobs around the beginning of the fall semester to begin the following academic year. That makes for a long season of uncertainty about what's next. How much energy would we spend imagining life in different locations, waiting for an interview?

But God had a surprise in store.

The Maxwell Center, Prairie's Main Administration Bldg

At the tail end of May, when hope in Oregon had dried up and we were buckling in for the long roller-coaster ahead, a job was posted at Prairie College in Three Hills, Alberta. Their need was urgent. They wanted to have an Old Testament professor in place by July 1st. Gulp.

They say that if you're the least bit open to taking a job, you should apply for it. I remembered having a good impression of Prairie when I was in high school, looking for a college. It's a small school well off the beaten trail with a long history of sending missionaries all over the world. Crazy as it sounded, I applied.

I figured there was little chance of an American being hired. Canadians would be given priority. But applying was a matter of due diligence. The up side was that there would be no long roller coaster with this one.

The next couple of weeks were a flurry of research. When I emerged less than 2 weeks later as the top candidate for the position, we felt the weight of the decision. We wanted to go in with our eyes wide open. This would be a major transition for the entire family -- not something to be taken lightly.

We scrambled to talk with mentors, read about the school, and explore the area online. I made a long list of questions and concerns. Danny started working on a budget. And we prayed. If we said 'yes,' we would be crossing an international border, with a complicated and expensive immigration process ahead.

Danny and Carmen, Alberta Bound

In late June, Danny and I flew up to Calgary where we were greeted by a friendly colleague and a vibrant landscape of rolling green prairie with a stunning sunset. During the 75-minute drive to Three Hills, we started in on our long list of questions. We had a number of concerns about the job, and we had asked friends to pray for confirmation and clarity. Over the next 48 hours, we were surprised as our concerns melted away one by one. We loved the little town of Three Hills. The houses were nicer. The schools were stronger. The area was more beautiful. The salary was higher than we thought. My course load was less than we thought. We thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the faculty, staff, and students on campus. In the end, we wanted the job.

Imagine my surprise to discover that God had been making arrangements for this job since birth.

Scenic View not far from Three Hills

On our final morning there, I received a text from my Dad that still floors me whenever I think of it. He was born in Canada, which I knew, but none of us had ever wondered what this meant for me and my brother. I assumed that he became a US citizen when he married my mom and that his Canadian citizenship was a thing of the past by the time I was born. But it wasn't. He waited until I was four years old to become a US Citizen. Chances are high that he is still a dual citizen, though he didn't realize it then. And the clincher: it's almost certain that my brother and I are dual citizens. We were born outside Canada to a Canadian citizen. That's all it takes. In fact, my children are likely dual citizens as well, since they were born to a dual citizen prior to 2009 (when the laws about the second generation changed).

Carmen with Mark (President) and Elaine (CFO) Maxwell

This will make the process of immigrating to Canada far less complicated and expensive. We simply need to pay a fee to have our records checked and a certificate issued that proves our citizenship.

When my official job offer came, there was another surprise -- a part-time job for Danny that fits his skill set beautifully.

So we said "yes"!  

We're in the throes of packing, selling our house, writing syllabi for fall classes, ordering passports for the kids, and saying our goodbyes.

Parable Place, where Carmen's Torah class will meet

Our God is full of surprises. We didn't expect to cross an international border again, but we're eager to see what God has in store for us in Canada. As I said in my sample lecture at Prairie, God has lessons to teach us that can only be learned in a state of dislocation. No doubt we'll have challenges ahead. But we're confident that the same God who has called us out upon the waters will be right there with us.

Amazon's Call for Sabbath

"Sundays should come with a pause button." 

So said Amazon in the email we just received.

Was Amazon trying to make a profoundly theological statement? Probably not. (They actually wanted us to "pause" what we were doing and go shopping.) But they capitalized on our collective longing for a break from a to-do list that never seems to end. And in so doing, they pointed to the wisdom of Yahweh's command at Sinai: "Remember the Sabbath."*

The fact is that we all need a break. A rhythmic time of rest. A chance to recharge so we can re-engage our work with fresh energy.

Sabbath is less about attending a worship service (this is important for other reasons) and more about recognizing that we are not machines. We all need to hit the "pause button" or we will quickly reach burnout.

For the Israelites, just rescued from slavery to Pharaoh in Egypt, the Sabbath was a weekly reminder of their freedom (see Deuteronomy 5:12–15). Yahweh was their provider. They no longer had a harsh taskmaster who required ceaseless labor. Six days of work was sufficient. Every member of the household, even the animals, were afforded a day of rest. The very architecture of God's creative work recognized the delightful rhythm of work and rest (see Genesis 2:1–3). As a nation, Israel was to model their work week after God's (see Exodus 20:8–11).

Our problem is that we often fall to one extreme or the other. On one side are those of us living a lifestyle of laziness, doing as little work as possible and prioritizing entertainment -- social media, TV, Netflix, and computer games absorb our attention hour after hour. On the other side are those of us who never unplug from work. Task-oriented emails, income generating activity, and household chores permeate our evenings and weekends until our days are indistinguishable from one another. We never stop because if we do, we're afraid we'll be snowed under. We can't rest because we'll fall behind. We must keep pushing or we'll lose our competitive edge.

For those of us in this latter category, Sabbath saves us from ourselves. We are our own most ruthless taskmaster. For us, Sabbath signals our surrender. Jesus is Lord. Not me. God is in control. Not me. The Almighty is my provider. Not me. I can rest in his tender care.

Sabbath is more than a schedule change. It involves a radical reorientation of our perspective. 

Sundays do come with a pause button. We just have to have the discipline to push it. When we do, we'll find that it is one of God's wisest and best gifts.

Did you hit the pause button today? If so, what life-giving and restorative activity took the place of the work you set aside?

-------

*I'm aware the Sabbath falls on Saturday, not Sunday. But in keeping with the rhythm of the early church to meet for worship on Sunday, I'm thinking of that day as the Christian "Sabbath."

compelled to create: art and faith

What must you do?
I'm not referring to your to-do list.
What are you compelled to do?
(besides eat chocolate)
What can you not help doing?

Asher Lev could not help but draw. His eyes would follow the contours of windows, of trees, of faces and their bodies. His fingers would trace shapes over and over, practicing. He filled reams of paper and acres of canvas. He dulled pencils and emptied tubes of paint. When he should have been studying Torah or mathematics, Asher drew. When he should have been listening, he absorbed himself in shadow and light, wondering how the effect could be achieved on paper.

What is it for you?
What were you born to do?

Asher's poor father could not understand him. He called drawing "foolishness" and chided his son repeatedly, angered by his distraction. But Asher could not shut off his fount of creativity. He even drew in his sleep (on the wall! with red crayon!). Asher's Hasidic Jewish community could not understand him. His classmates jeered at him, calling him "Picasso."

A dear friend of mine is an artist. After years of chronic pain, she's made a profound discovery—art is a form of praise. Pain has become the crucible for some of the best art she's ever birthed, more original and more meaningful, and therefore a part of her healing journey. Somehow her finger-gripped pencil bypasses the toxic cesspool of her own complaints, words that only drag her down. It liberates the praise-filled perspective she longs to have. She reminded me that the same has been true of my writing.

Enter the Rabbi—the most powerful figure in Asher's world. As his father's boss, the Rabbi's word was canon. He was never disobeyed. I expected him to come crashing down on the young artist, to forbid him to draw or paint. But in a remarkable plot twist, he doesn't. I won't spoil the rest of the story. If you haven't read the book yourself, put it on your list right now: My Name is Asher Lev, by Chaim Potok.

The friend I mentioned took a risk yesterday, showing her drawings to her parents. One brusque comment could have destroyed her, but by the magnificent grace of God, they gushed, awed by what she had created.

Providentially, after finishing the novel, I picked up the summer magazine of Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, my alma mater. The theme? "Arts in the Church"—page after page of beautiful reflections on the place of art in our faith journey. Truly refreshing.

One article in particular struck me as appropriate: "Made by a Maker to be a Maker," by Bruce Herman, an artist and professor of art at Gordon College in Massachusetts. Herman's reflections mimic Asher's journey as an artist into adulthood. He says, "the child creates art from a place of fearlessness and natural freedom. Art and fear are not good bedfellows." (Fear makes a lousy bedfellow for dissertations, too, by the way.)

Night by Bruce Herman (1991)
www.bruceherman.com

According to Herman, "The artistic act is one that can only be wholehearted."As soon as Asher Lev discovers this, when he gives himself fully to the artistic process, he creates his greatest masterpiece. But it may cost him everything. Art is not easy. It is a massive risk.

In some cases, so is a blog post. Or a meal for honored guests. Or an academic paper. Or a remodeled kitchen. Or a counseling session. Or a sermon.

Quoting Tolkien, Herman says, "we put the thought of all that we love into all that we make." As I contemplate my next major writing project, I hesitate, but only for a moment. Just as Asher must paint, so I must write. I have no other option. All that I love will find expression on the pages of my next book. Fear has no place, only a complete devotion to the craft of writing until the project is birthed.

Herman insists, "The kind of makers we are to become involves echoing God's own character in our creative process." That involves self-sacrifice and risk, the possibility that it won't be well-received, or that we'll be misunderstood. But we were created to create. And so I must. And so must you. Let's make something good.

the refugee risk

It was missions Sunday, so naturally I issued a challenge to extend God's love to those outside the reach of the gospel. In this case, refugees.

What made this challenge a risk was its timing:

• Less than three months after Muslim extremists carried out a series of coordinated terror attacks in Paris.
• Less than two months after Muslim sympathizers of ISIS opened fire in San Bernadino, CA.
• Just one month after refugees so generously welcomed by Germany returned the favor by allegedly sexually assaulting hundreds of German women.
• Just one day before Iowa's caucuses and the start of the Presidential Primary election season, with its polarized and publicized debate on this issue, and Donald Trump's pronouncement still ringing in our ears (like it or not) amid the cheers of thousands. 

Let's face it. The refugee crisis will not be solved overnight.
As a nation, we do not see eye to eye on this issue.

And yet, I felt compelled to speak. Politics aside, the church is called to welcome the stranger.

As I sat waiting for my turn with the microphone, Sarah stood up with an announcement. Her arms were full of towels and she carried a plastic grocery bag laden with toothbrushes, soap, and combs. She issued a challenge of her own, calling for the collection of funds and supplies such as these . . . to be given to refugees.

I relaxed. Clearly the Spirit was already at work.

At the close of my message (an abbreviated version of which is here), Pastor Kevin stood and addressed the congregation, thanking me for my message and sharing that he had already offered to have refugees move in with his own family.

Beautiful. Already the congregation was mobilizing to help refugees far and near, refusing to allow campaign rhetoric define or limit their faithful obedience to God's call. I merely reinforced what the Spirit was stirring in their midst.

The hands and feet of the gospel cannot be bound.

leaning in

I had heard about the book a while back. All good things. It seemed like the kind of book that could illuminate my journey as a woman in academia. But the dissertation didn't leave much time for extra reading, so I tucked away the idea for a rainy day.

Months elapsed. A year or two, maybe.

In December, after turning in another revised draft of my dissertation, I decided it was time. Thanks to its popularity, it was easy to find Lean In at the public library. Some of you will chuckle that I found time to read a book by the COO of Facebook before I found time to actually join Facebook. I know. That's so like me. (However, I did finally join Facebook last week, so feel free to send me a friend request if you'd like!)

It's not supposed to be a self-help book, but I found it tremendously helpful. It's not exactly Sandberg's autobiography either, but she opens up the windows of her life and lets us all look in. How does a woman lead well? How can she balance family and career? How can she navigate a man's world without losing her femininity? (It turns out that Evangelicals are not the only ones wondering about this!) Sandberg's big idea, the one she comes back to again and again, is that women need to lean in to the opportunities in front of them. Yes, sometimes women are overlooked, at a disadvantage because of our gender, hitting glass ceilings. But Sandberg says women often sabotage our own success by holding back. We are hesitant to walk through an open door because we aren't sure how we'll manage everything on the other side. Women regularly turn down opportunities well before it's necessary (e.g., a single woman avoiding a promotion because she imagines it will interfere with her future role as wife and mother). At Google and Facebook, Sandberg has observed this time and again.

There is certainly a time for "no." But saying "no" enables us to say "yes" when the time is right.

That time came for me sooner than we expected. I was ready to lean in. Actively praying about how God would have me serve now that I'm coming to the end of my PhD. Circling that topic in prayer. But my spring semester was still relatively open. On a fluke, Multnomah didn't need me. Aside from putting the finishing touches on my dissertation and defending it, I thought I might try to publish an article or two. Maybe paint some interior trim or catch up on the family scrapbook.

Then the phone rang.

The department chair from George Fox. Wondering if I could possibly teach a class . . . immediately. One of their adjunct instructors had backed out at the last minute, leaving him with a slot to fill. School starts next week. It's not an accident that he thought of me. I've been in touch with him for over 2 years, hoping that someday something like this would develop. It didn't take us long to decide. Danny and I had both been feeling that now was the time for "yes." I was eager to lean in. For four long days I crafted a syllabus, putting on the finishing touches yesterday.

Then, this morning in church, we sang a song that harnessed Sandberg's thesis in service of our ultimate purpose as believers: worship. The lyrics jumped off the screen. Written just for me. Exquisitely timed.

Spirit of the Living God

Spirit of the Living God

We only want to hear your voice

We're hanging on every word. 

Spirit of the Living God

Spirit of the Living God

We're leaning in to who you are

Everything else can wait.

After all, it's possible to lean in to the wrong thing, at the wrong time, for the wrong reasons. Leaning in will only bring life when our deepest desires are shaped by worship.

Yes, lean in. But not just in any direction. Lean in to HIM. Let him transform your desires until the thing you want is the thing He wants.

"Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:4)

The song continues . . .

When you come in the room

When you do what only you can do

It changes what we see and what we seek.*

This week I'm soaking in the grace of fulfilled desires. The "thing" itself pales in comparison to the presence of the Living God who has acted, and continues to act, on my behalf. 

May 2016 be a year of leaning in. Not to earthly success. But leaning in to the presence of God and embracing all He has planned. Everything else can wait.

*Vertical Church Band c.2015

a beautiful thing

Photo: Aviva by Kameel

The line wound its way out of the Mediterranean restaurant and wrapped around the corner. We took it as a good sign, and so we attached ourselves to the end and waited along with everyone else. The clientele were not just conference attendees, but locals, and no one seemed the least bit disturbed about the wait. Another good sign. Soon we found out why. A smiling hostess with a tray of samples worked her way down the line. "Lentil soup," she offered. "Try it. You'll see. It's good." The lilt of her accent told me that she would know, and her obvious joy in working there boded well. It was good.

Kameel Srouji (Photo: Aviva by Kameel)

Still, nothing could have prepared me for the personna behind the counter. A tastefully decorated wall had shielded our view of the food line until we rounded a corner just steps away. "Hello! Welcome to Aviva. How can I make you happy?" His booming voice filled the atmosphere with life, enthusiasm. His tall frame matched his voice. His sweeping movements made food service an art form. "Excellent choice. It's natural. It's fresh. It's delicious." The customer two ahead of us smiled his thanks and moved down the line. Again the voice boomed, "Welcome to Aviva. You're beautiful. I love you. I need a hug."

A hug? Doesn't that break some kind of food service code? Nevertheless, the businessman in front of us in line ducked around the counter into the kitchen area to hug the man who was larger than life. The chef's eyes twinkled. He lost no time in filling another plate. "Thank you. God bless you. Have a beautiful weekend."

I'm afraid I was a bit thrown, wondering if this was for real. (Is he saying "God bless you" because he heard that the Evangelical Theological Society is meeting next door? Did some study show that enthusiasm is good for business?) When I got to the cashier, I asked, "Is he always like this?" A big smile spread across her face. "Every day!"

Photo: Aviva by Kameel

The energy was palpable.
The food was delectable.

And so the next day, with another friend, I did my time in line again. Brittany had her kids along with her at the conference, and her mom came to watch them. So the five of us waited, tasted falafel, and rounded the corner.

The booming voice. "You came back! How can I make you happy today?" (How can he possibly remember me when he serves hundreds of customers every day? Is it because he looks every one of us in the eye and recognizes that we are made in the image of God?) I suspect so.

Brittany asked if there was something less spicy for her kids. "Ah! For the little ones. This one is on me. No charge. Tell me -- what do they like to eat?" He proceeded to pile a plate with falafel, shwarma, grilled vegetables, and hummus. "Your children are beautiful. Thank you for feeding them real food!"

Kameel's passion for food is obvious!
Photo: Aviva by Kameel

It is not every day that you meet someone who is happy at work, someone energized by their labor who does it with excellence. Kameel is one of those. And the entire restaurant pulsed with this life. It occurred to me then that people come to his restaurant for more than just calories. They pay for lunch and get love, kindness, affirmation. His passion for eating well and living well is contagious.

When I arrived home from Atlanta I was still thinking about Kameel. We found him online, smiling just the way I remembered. I also learned the source of his joy. Kameel is a Catholic believer from Nazareth, eager to share God's love with everyone he meets.

When we have the privilege of meeting someone who has "found their calling" in life it's a beautiful thing. In that moment we get a glimpse of God's creative and redeeming power at work in our midst. Kameel's passion rekindled my own passion to serve God wholeheartedly in my own corner of the world. Whether restaurant or classroom, office or farm, retail outlet or machine shop, when we're doing what we were born to do, and doing it well, He gets the glory.

"And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." (Colossians 3:17)

when you don't (think you) have what it takes

A friend said it so beautifully, I couldn't help but share. She is beyond busy, faced with overwhelming needs and not enough hours in the day to respond. Myrto writes,

"It is always a sling and a few stones. It is always trumpets and a few ram horns. Let's face it, you have to get a bit ridiculous, a bit pitiful, a bit pathetic to fight the Lord's battles. Chariots, armors, weapons, anything that screams 'success' won't do. Only 'losers' recruited."
"The ministry is always small, weak, unpromising, always standing in the desert before the great giants in the land. Every year we have to take hold of our slings, pick up a few stones."

In ourselves, we lack. Whether time or money or education or creativity or courage, when we measure ourselves against the task that must be done, the deficit is painfully obvious.

But into this vacuum, the Spirit of God shows up, ready to work. He delights in our weakness, so he can demonstrate his strength. But still we must act. The stone doesn't sling itself, the wall doesn't build itself, the dissertation doesn't write itself, the children don't raise themselves...

Our part is to simply obey. To give our best. And then to watch as God transforms our feeble offering so that it becomes more than enough.

With Him you do have what it takes. You can count on that.

-------

p.s. I wrote this post weeks ago, before my NIV series was finished, and so I scheduled it to appear later. Now, on the night before it's set to go "live," I'm re-reading it . . . absolutely delighted at how God has done it again. He took my feeble offering, the fully revised dissertation that I submitted two weeks ago, and made something beautiful of it. I had given my best effort, honestly not knowing if it would be good enough. In the words of Dr. Block, "Congratulations on getting it to this stage. You have worked very hard, and it has paid off magnificently. Go out and celebrate." Needless to say, WE DID!

life in the middle of nowhere

Does life have you doing circles in the desert?

If so, you're not alone. And God hasn't given up on you.

Last week, the summer edition of the Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary Alumni Magazine, Contact, was released. It includes the devotional I gave at the Gordon-Conwell Alumni Breakfast at SBL last November, as well as a write-up of Anne Doll's phone interview with me, where we talked about how to make it in grad school as a family of five.

For those of you who are "in between," waiting to step into a season of fulfillment, this devotional is my gift to you, the fruit of my own desert wanderings. Here's a snippet:

In those "in-between" places, we are faced with many questions. We are no longer certain about who we are. We are not sure how God is leading, or even if he's leading. In our desperation to restore a sense of order to our lives, we're always in danger of adopting the wrong narrative. But God has us right where He wants us. He has lessons to teach us that can only be learned in a state of dislocation. Lessons about who we are. About who He is. And how He's calling us to be in the world. 

Read the rest here. You can find my contribution on pages 30–33.

a scholar's prayer

My Desk (Photo: C Imes)

For those whose desks, like mine, have been swallowed by dissertation research . . .
For those in the throes of writing a book or an essay . . .
For those laboring over a new language or a new discipline . . .
For students just starting out in academia . . .

I invite you to pray this prayer with me. You can find it in full at InterVarsity's blog for Women in the Academy and Professions, but it applies just as well to men.

May He be glorified by the works of our minds!

Lord, 

as a new day dawns,

I offer thanks for the privilege of learning —

For the time, the mental acuity, and the resources at my disposal. 

Thank you for the delight of discovery. 

These are precious gifts... 

Let me love the truth 

more than I love what I have thought or said or written. 

Grant me the courage to confront falsehood, even in myself, 

to defend an unpopular position, 

or to surrender a cherished opinion found wanting...

For the rest, click here.

on being finite

As a child, life stretched out interminably before me, holding an endless array of choices and possibilities. What do you want to be when you grow up? was the question that punctuated a long and happy childhood. No career was out of the question. My dreams held no bounds. My pint-sized mind was pregnant with possibility. Missionary-scientist-teacher? Bible translator-orphanage director? At one point I decided to become a missionary-astronaut-famous singer. I had my schedule all worked out in advance: I would spend several years overseas doing mission work, and then during furlough I would squeeze in a space mission and a concert tour before resuming my work in Africa.

How could I have anticipated the exhausting pace of what is erroneously called "furlough," or the rigorous preparation required for a trip to outer space, or the endless hours of practice and coordination to schedule a road show? My dreams were good ones, but I had yet to discover my own finitude.

We are given only so many hours, only so many days, and only so many years. Chances are that we will not be able to pursue every hobby that tickles our fancy, or learn every skill that would be handy to know, or volunteer for every worthwhile activity. Even as an adult, I have far more visionary ideas than I do energy to carry out those ideas. (I should bring a meal to so-and-so, or help with such-and-such, or start making my own this-and-that.) That leads to overpromising, overcommittment, pressure, guilt, and stress. Just because I can do something (in theory), does not mean that I should, even if it's commendable or I would be good at it.

Perhaps in days gone by one could aspire to be a 'renaissance man,' mastering knowledge in a wide range of subjects. That age has expired, and with it my dreams of being an astronaut or scientist or Bible translator or famous singer or counselor or midwife. I've given up on quilting and canning (at least for now), writing children's books, learning to paint, or taking an active role in the PTSO of my children's school or our neighborhood association. I cannot do everything. I have limits. For the time being, I study and write. When time allows, I read fiction and go camping and play games and take pictures. Once a year I even work on the family photo album. But mostly I dissertate. When that is done I will teach. And that will leave precious little time for anything else.

Almost-38-years old seems a strange time in life to start slashing my list of ambitions. I am interested in more things than ever before -- languages, geology, travel, world economics, traditional arts, gardening -- but I'm also more aware of my limitations. I am not a machine, I am a human being. That means I need balance, margins, rest. I can't do everything. Neither can you.

It's freeing to know that although God invites our active participation in his work, he does not expect us (in particular) to do it all. We invest what we can, when we can, as he provides the means. The rest is up to him. Our finitude drives us to depend on the infinite God for the strength to do what he has called us to do -- nothing more, nothing less.

why bother writing a dissertation?

Who even cares? And what difference does it make, really?

Pacific City, Oregon (Photo: C Imes)

Sometimes when I come face to face with an awe-inspiring panorama of natural beauty, I get to feeling very, very small. And I think about the hours I spend every day fiddling with footnotes, massaging sentences until they sound exactly right, poking my theories from every angle to make sure they stand up under scrutiny . . . In those moments my work seems so pedantic. 

Does any of this actually matter?

But when I turn back from a breathtaking view and stand squarely facing the church, I remember why this work must be done. I don't mean the church historic, anchored by creed, weathering the test of time. I mean the church in its messiest and most particular forms—the local church, my local church. Individuals of various ages and backgrounds and careers who share geographic proximity and have chosen to worship together on Sunday mornings at 9:00 or 10:45, coffee in hand, trying to shake off the spiritual lethargy of their week and tune in to what really matters. This church, my church, needs steady footing in the shifting sands of cliché and trend and platitude; they need to be guided to what is real and true and rock solid, what is profoundly biblical and yet fresh and relevant. People are weary of what they've already heard and tried and found wanting. They are tired of getting nowhere.

To speak with authority into the malaise of superficiality that confronts any local church, I must do my homework. I must wrestle each word to the ground, refusing to let it go until I understand, refusing to quit until I have clearly expressed what I see.

On any given day I consult books written by patient scholars who have done exactly this. Their insights have stood the test of time, like the majestic cliffs on the Oregon coast. I am grateful for their work—glad they didn't give up when things took longer than they planned—and inspired to contribute in some small way. 

And so I press on. 

Stay tuned. The best is yet to come.

leap of faith

"Leap of Faith" by Jasmine May

This is the third of three watercolors that Jasmine May shared with me — and I'm delighted to have permission to share it with you. It grapples with another dimension of faith. "Falling Into His Hands" portrayed the strong hands of God that are ready to catch us whenever we let go of control. This painting — "Leap of Faith" — depicts the empowerment of the Holy Spirit to do what is far beyond our natural abilities. In this phase of Jasmine's walk with Jesus he was asking her not to sit back and watch Him work on her behalf, but to step out and take action on others' behalf with no guarantee of success. Jasmine explains,

"When we sensed God telling us to start an aftercare home for sex-trafficking survivors, it seemed impossible. God was saying, 'Jump off that cliff.' I asked Him, " ... so are You going to catch me?' But He answered, 'No. I gave you everything you need to fly. The wings are the Holy Spirit. The only way to experience how to fly by My Spirit is to jump!'"

The rhythm of our life with God includes both kinds of trust -- both quiet waiting and taking action. Is God prompting you to take a leap of faith? Is there an impossible task that awaits you? If God is asking you to do it, He has already supplied you with everything you need.

new author spotlight

Several of our missionary colleagues have recently published their first books. It's my joy to share their work with you here. While I have not yet read all their books, these authors have lived authentically the stories they share here. Each of them have been an inspiration to me, and I'm excited to see their stories published. If you decide to read any of them, I'd be interested in hearing what you think!

Miracle Beans and the Golden Book: From a Snowstorm in Ohio to the Blazing Sun of Africa, One Family's True Stories Following the Call of the Gospel 

We've enjoyed this book as a fun read-aloud with our kids. Each of the short chapters is a snapshot of life in Africa. For us, the best part is knowing the authors and their kids and grandkids (our kids' good buddies from Charlotte), but we think you'll like it, too, if you want to instill in your kids a willingness to follow God's call anywhere. Don and Barb were mentors to us when we began our journey into missions with SIM. All the proceeds from the sale of this book actually go to support the ministry of SIM we joined almost 9 years ago: Sports Friends.

Growing Down: God's Grace in Spite of Myself

Sarah Wetzel and her husband, Jake, served with Sports Friends in Ethiopia at Camp Langano. They brought to Langano decades of experience in camping ministry in Bolivia with SIM, helping to build the infrastructure so that the camp could accommodate dozens of young people and their coaches each week. Sarah is a wonderful writer. Here she shares her own journey of spiritual growth. I think you'll find it encouraging!

God and Elephants: A Worshipper's Guide to Raising Support

Heather Ricks and her husband, Jason, joined our Sports Friends team just a handful of years ago after first serving in Ghana, and before that, planting a church in the U.S. Heather has not only watched God provide for their own financial needs as missionaries, but she has helped to orient others to the support-raising process. She's passionate about writing, about missions, and about seeing God glorified in all things. We've just ordered our copy of her book and we can't wait to see what she has to say!

Deep Waters: a journey of healing from sexual abuse

This book promises to be a fruitful resource for counselors as well as victims of sexual abuse. Our friend, Jasmine, shares openly about her own experiences in hopes that others who have suffered similar horror will find hope in Christ as well as practical help. She says, "This is my story of how God met me in the place of deepest pain and shame." If someone you know could benefit from this book, consider buying them a copy.


While I'm writing, do you know about Amazon Smile? If you begin shopping at smile.amazon.com, you can select a charity to receive a portion of the proceeds from your purchase. It doesn't cost you anything extra. I picked Compassion International. What will you choose?