privacy, authenticity, and living publicly

Lately I seem to have better luck "accidentally" writing blog-post-length comments than writing actual posts. So I'm gonna stick with my new trend of just turning the comment into a post. My friend Sarah wrote an amazing post about privacy and authenticity in the online world. You need to make sure you read it. Like right now. Then come back and read my thoughts.

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I’m a pretty private person, so my choice a few years ago to share about what was going on in my life/ministry was huge. I was very scared of doing it wrong — in a way that would bring more hurt and dishonor — than anything else, so I went about it with great trepidation. I painted with broad strokes, leaving out the bests, worsts, and a lot in between. And I still do. Not just in the ongoing journey of all that (and the many layers it entails) but also in my day-to-day life.

It’s easier to step back now than it was a few years ago. I often go days without being on twitter, weeks without blogging. I don’t analyze my sharing as much, debating on if this should or shouldn’t be shared. Those decisions come much easier than they used to.

Sometimes I have to fight the feeling that I’m missing out on great connections and opportunities (because of watching people quote-unquote “get ahead” with their @replies and intentional online shoulder-rubbing) and that I’m just missing out on all the fun — like everyone else is at the cool kids table and they’re all having this amazing time I’m excluded from. Sometimes I still have to fight all that and sometimes I just don’t even care anymore.

But the bottom line is this:

I value honesty in whatever is shared (by myself or others) rather than the amount/depth of it. I don’t think I — or anyone else — should divulge everything, but wisely withholding doesn’t mean one is being dishonest, disingenuous, or inauthentic. Be truly and honestly you in whatever it is you choose to share, and THAT is all the authenticity I need.

{Seth Haines also wrote a poignant post about authenticity and Sarah Markley unpacked more of her thoughts in a follow-up post. You're not gonna wanna miss these ones.}

Would love to hear your thoughts about privacy, authenticity, and living publicly. Let's talk!

grace in the south tower

Like the rest of you, I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news 11 years ago today. I was an ocean away in Africa. And all I wanted was to get back home to New York. We lost a family friend that day. Michael had dreamed of being an FDNY fireman since he was a toddler. Nine months after he aced his exams and joined, his company—Ladder 132—was one of the first to reach the scene on September 11th.

He chased his dream right into the South Tower.

Today, I pause again to remember. With chills. With tears. With a lump in my throat. I remember.

And with burning eyes clenched shut, I am forced again to wrestle with the goodness of God.

I can't acknowledge His goodness and grace only in those situations that work out well. So today—with trembling hands, a shaky voice, and mustard seed faith—I also acknowledge that the same grace that was present with the survivors, was present with those who passed.

Grace was right there in the Twin Towers.

It filled the streets. It permeated the buildings more thickly than the smoke. It sunk to the depths of the rubble. It surrounded, upheld, and carried all those who lived, all those who died, all those who lost loved ones.

The passage from Ecclesiastes keeps going through my mind. "For everything there is a season..." And I can't help but also think: For every season there is a grace.

Grace reigned that day 11 years ago, despite the atrocities and the loss and the fear and the heartache.

And grace reigns still.

i am (not) third

Jesus.Others. You.

I was raised—rightly—to put others first. But somewhere along the way, that distorted into putting myself last.

Which isn't good. I know. And it needs to change. But it's a struggle.

Maybe you can relate?

I'm unpacking my thoughts on (not) being third over at the new-and-improved Deeper Story today. Come check out the new digs and join the conversation...

God was in both

The summer I turned 16, I spent two full months in rural Botswana, a landlocked country in Southern Africa. I was this city girl from Long Island who usually opted to pass a gorgeous day reading or watching TV. I had never been camping, and, quite honestly, I avoided the outdoors as much as possible. But there I was, spending eight weeks living in a tent, cooking over a campfire, and dealing with unimaginable amounts of dirt and insects—and I loved it. I remember sitting on the dirt floor of a hut constructed with mud, dung, and thatch, having a conversation with the Motswana woman who lived there.

The lines on her weathered face and hands told stories of a long and hard life.

younger-me-in-Africa

Her clothes were tattered, her shoes peppered with holes, and her simple home bare except for a few essentials. She welcomed us in warmly and apologized for not having chairs to offer us. After she served us tea, I watched her make her own using one of our already-used tea bags.

She joined us on the floor and, with the aid of a translator, we talked about following Christ. As she spoke, her smile lit up the dark, windowless home. Her face radiated joy and hope from a source deep within her, far below the surface of her outward circumstances.

This beautiful Motswana woman’s steadfast faith challenged and inspired me. I wanted my life to be marked with that same kind of unswerving trust.

I had gone to Africa with the hope of making a difference, and yet God was using Africa to make a difference in me.

So I kept going back, returning two more summers in a row. I knew that missions would be more than a short-term endeavor for me and felt God drawing me back long-term. Not because I thought I had something to offer, or wanted to do something courageous, but simply because I was convinced it was where I belonged. It felt like home. So at 19, I decided to just go and see what would happen. Because more clearly than I’d known anything in my entire life, I knew that God was calling me to live in Africa.

And regardless of how things ended 13 years later, with marriage and ministry dissolved, I still know that I followed God to Africa. Just as I know I followed Him through the painful choices to close and move back to the States.

I may be unable to reconcile God leading me to life and ministry in Africa with Him taking it all away, but—even if it's with tear-filled eyes and trembling hands—I can't deny that He was in both.

Unlike me, God was not surprised or caught off guard by the circumstances of my life. He didn't have to scramble to come up with a new plan and purpose for me. What feels to me like a “Plan B” is still the original story God is writing with my life.

While some days it’s easier to believe than others, I know that the Author and Finisher is still writing. He never needs an eraser or a backspace. He needs no editor, no second draft. He writes it perfectly the first time. And He finishes what He starts. No abandoned stories. No half-hearted attempts. He is writing my story completely. Thoroughly.

All the way to the end.

love and respect {now}

I'm sure you've heard of the marriage ministry (and book) called Love and Respect, by Emerson and Sarah Eggerichs. They're amazing, and I believe in their message. But it took me a while to get there. That'll happen when you have their book thrown at you. Literally.

I read it begrudgingly, and in the context of my life at the time I couldn't really even hear the message of the book over the cacophony of pain in my heart.

Fast forward a few years to when I realized my new friend, Joy Eggerichs was that Eggerichs. (As in the daughter of the couple who wrote and run Love and Respect.) Joy pioneered Love and Respect (Now), an incredible online resource and community that helps facilitate conversations about relationships. Her focus is on helping us figure it out NOW instead of someday saying, “I wish I had known then…”

Well, I'm guest posting for Joy today.

Come read about our unexpected friendship, my experience with her parents' book, and the time respect was thrown in my face.

Link over to read my post HERE >