a new home for t.a.m.

We've moved over to a new home: http://theresalwaysmonday.com

Hope to see you over there, the door is always open!

worship and sweet city nashville

My sister left for Belmont this Friday. She is now a Tennessee resident. She forewent the deep dish and baseball caps of Chicago for the southern drawls and cowboy boots of sweet-city Nashville. I got the chance to talk to her tonight and I beamed as she gave me the ‘I got there and…” story of her first few days at school. There's something ironic knowing that as I prepared a stovetop dinner for Austin and me, my little sister was venturing into the wonderful world of cafeteria-style dining. How good it is to have her in my life. As often as it may seem that I am a few steps ahead, Katie, in her twenty-one years, lives and operates in such gentle-joyous-wonder, that I often am forced to take notice. And learn. A lot.

One thing I did love about having my sister close by was the randomness of our hangout slots. My most favorite came when Katie received about twelve hours notice of the road trip that she was accompanying me on. We got in the white Honda, dressed, without question in Lululemon, and headed towards St. Louis. We paused only for things worth stopping for: Panera salads, soft-serve ice cream and ravishing sunsets. Once we got there, I became absolutely awed by the lessons I learned from watching my sister. She gives of herself in ways I am afraid to. She has patience with people that I would be guarded with. And she worships her creator in ways I wish I knew how.

Worship for Katie is the natural outpouring of her life. All you have to do is spend a few minutes with her to be convinced of that. She embodies a radiating, abiding joy that comes only from intimately knowing the One whom made her. Worship in her life means more than the songs that start and end a church service. Her worship is the surrendered posture and response to that which truly gives LIFE to her life. It is an acknowledgement of the one behind the wheel. A tipping of the hat to the glue of her well-being. And a fascination with the soul-satisfaction she gains from worshipping this God. 

I’ve worshipped several things in my life. When I was little I worshipped my parents because of the ways they provided for me and loved me.  When I was a bit older I worshipped my friends’ comments and put all my chips of self worth into the pot of their opinions. When I was a teenager I worshipped being noticed by guys, and their thumbs up/thumbs down approval determined whether my day was a good one. And when I was in college I worshiped my body’s ability to play volleyball and the recognition it brought me. But, wouldn’t you know it, my parents were human, my friends tore me down, guys’ approval was lost in the ways they cared only for themselves, and my body was broken time and time again because of the sport I loved to play.

It wasn’t until these shortcomings of my worship were removed that I was able to see my God, my creator, as the sole being worthy of my worship and incapable of failing me.

We’re all worshipping something. Our abilities, our productivity, others' applause, a form of technology, what we see in the mirror, or maybe a relationship. But one steadfast truth remains. This God. This Creator is the one and only thing that can not, and more importantly will not ever fail. He can’t. It’s not in his character of perfection. So, the next time I’m unusually distraught by the let down of a relationship or circumstance, I will remember who it is that I worship and why he deserves my praise. For unlike this sandy world of false idols, the foundation of my soul is built on the rock. He never, ever, ever fails.

Like EVER.

(For you, Katie and your likeness and ‘non-worship’ of T. Swift. Love you and the ways you worship God daily.)

Zephaniah 3:5

beautiful and real

Sometimes life makes perfect sense.  Your best friend visits from Chicago.  A baby is born healthy and happy.  Two friends get married on a perfect summer evening.  You stay up late talking about life and faith around the fire with your friends and mentor. A beautiful little girl is adopted and brought home.  A one year anniversary.  Seventy-five degrees at 7:00pm.  A pumpkin muffin and chai latte at the bakery.  A baby kick so strong you can see your shirt moving.  Life is sweet here in these places that make sense, these places that make you a better person than you were before they happened.  But life can’t stay here.  It moves on to the realities we all live with—whether that is sickness or longing that there is no cure for yet, or money we just do not have, or a relationship that we once fought hard for and have now relegated to a category not worth fighting at all for. 

Life bounces between the walls of hope and apathy so quickly.  One moment can feel like all is well and the next like nothing will ever be the same.  Some seasons our lives feel like one long facebook status roll of highlights, and other seasons we feel like if that person posts one more picture or one more brag-status about her perfect life and perfect home and perfect baby I am de-friending her (not that I have ever, ever felt that way).  Some days we feel so, so good about the work we are doing and we wouldn’t want any other job in the world, and other days we feel like—no matter what the work is—there are no children being freed from slavery and in that case, it is not nearly noble enough to give your heart to.

We are up then down, left then right, confident then lonely, secure then anxious, sometimes all in the same day.  This is life, and the beauty is not always in what is perfect or makes sense; the beauty is in what is real and true and what faith sustains in you.  If your relationships are real, then even when they are hard, they are beautiful.  If your desire for healing or for answers is real, even if it is long-coming, it is beautiful, not to mention inspiring.  And if your faith sustains hope in your heart and the knowledge that your life is being orchestrated by a God who is able to keep us from falling, then it is beautiful. 

  

Real is simply beautiful.  Sometimes it means you are happy and other times it means you are broken, but it always means you’re authentic.  For me, the most life-giving people around me are the truth-tellers, the real ones.  The most deep and formative experiences have been ones I would not have chosen to go through, but they did their job in my life because they were real.  In a world full of false praise, dishonest critics, and let’s be honest, a whole lot of never-going-below-the-surface friendships, real is more needed than ever.  Being real is the only stabilizer in life’s tennis match of emotions and circumstances, and it is the only thing that allows us to truly leave our gifts with the world.

In the days that make sense or in the days that leave me without words, I want people around who will celebrate like crazy over the smallest things, and who will cry an understanding tear when the news is bad.  And I want to be that person to others, because I have found that even in the worst times, when I’m around the truth-tellers, things always make a little more sense. 

Beauty is honest, and the world needs more of it.  We don’t need one more person trying to be someone they are clearly not, or portray a life that doesn’t exist.  We just need more of what is real, because that is what is really, really sweet about life.   

the 'group' recipe

As of late I have fallen head-over-heels in love with the Food Network.  Any timeslot, any show, I’m glued.  This is a very new development, but slowly I am beginning to experiment with how certain ingredients play off of each other,  how to finely mince garlic, and marveling in the new-found knowledge of what exactly a shallot is. My dad works effortlessly and joyfully in the kitchen, and I am crossing my fingers that those chef-tastic genes are among some other late-blooming traits passed down from my parents.

One of the catapults into cooking more consistently came from the group that Luke and Jess dreamed up that meets on a mostly-steady, at times-irregular basis.  We started by calling it Bible study. Then small group. Now we’re close enough to the idea and each other that we just call it group.  I love group. I love this group, but mostly I love the ways this group does ‘group.’

 Before we made the move up to Chicago, Austin and I were blessed to be part of the most wonderfully random and refreshingly honest group of young adults back in Arizona.  Every Thursday night our 3958 Cat Balue door would fling open and we would be greeted by a plethora of lifelong friends, sweet new acquaintances, and complete strangers, each somehow invited by another member of the ever-growing and ever-different group. I don’t think there was a single repeat of the same crowd, and yet miraculously, we never lost steam.  These were brave and passionate men and women of God that came to lay their hearts on the line, ask questions that would forever matter, and take part in 30-minute long prayers, as each person prayed for the person on their left (or wait, was it the person on the right? Wait… J)  We would pop popcorn, eat dark chocolate M&M’s and laugh uncontrollably whenever Allie would bust into an impromtu yoga pose, when Lad would fall asleep in the middle of prayer, or when Max ‘showed off’ his new tattoo.  God moved in mighty ways and found great pleasure in those hours that we met because,

“All who believed were together and had all things in common,” Acts 2:44. 

We didn’t know each other well. We had many nights of ‘nice to meet yous,’ and yet, each unique member had nearly all things in common. Some were in school, some working, some graduating, some looking for a job, but nevertheless, we were united in our phase of life, in whom we believed, and in the fact that we were together, and when all who believe get together, miracles happen.

Our group now is similar in many ways, but also different. The chief difference came naturally and beautifully as Austin and I shuffled into a new phase of life. Now, we meet on Friday nights, and consider it our social lives in action instead of a social life buzz-kill. We cook for each other, do dishes together and always have about 3 options for dessert.  We watch lessons, pause for clarification, ask deep-rooted questions of each other and demand honest answers. The funny ones of the group silence the room with their profound reflections and the quiet ones make us roar with the pitch-perfect side-comments. Jess always asks the best questions, Lauren never misses the chance to join another by saying ‘me too!’ And I think Dan laughs the hardest when Luke’s wit fills the rare, silent moments. We look to Austin for theology definitions, to Katie for heartfelt prayer, and to Melissa for the perfect sum-up. Molly brings story-telling to a new hilarious level, Kyle asks questions that we’re all thinking but don’t end up saying, and newbies like Zach and Allison come with their armor down and heart open to all the crazy our group has to offer. I love how we do group because we are devoted to truth and unapologetic of whom we know Jesus to be. Yet, we acknowledge how little we have figured out, we’re floored by the grace God showers on us, and we lock arms in an effort to be such solid disciples that we could’ve blended in with the twelve originals (okay, eleven). 

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” Acts 2:42

If there is a true ‘group recipe’ it has equal parts of these descriptions in Acts. We long to be like the early church because of the awe that came upon every soul (vs 43). This man, this Christ is the real deal. And sometimes all you need is your well-seasoned, God-fearing group around you to be convinced of that.

‘…And he added to their number day by day those who were being saved.’   Acts 2:47b