i'm still not sure about this one

I meet new people all the time. And there's often a point in the conversation that goes something like this:

OPTION A Them: Where are you from? Me: New York. Them: How'd you end up in Atlanta? Me: Well...

OPTION B Them: What do you do? Me: I'm the founder of a ministry in Africa. Them: Oh wow. What are you doing in Atlanta? Me: Well...

OPTION C A variation of A or B.

And then I have to try to follow the "Well..." with some sort of explanation.

It's got me thinking about the words I use to sum up my current life situation.

I'm short and sweet and to the point. I certainly don't unload my two-and-a-half-year heartache on them.

I don't answer with bitterness or anger or resentment. There is sadness in my words, for sure. There's grief in my eyes.

And I simply state the facts.

But now I'm wondering if I still say more than I actually should.

My six-sentence answer usually includes:

1. I've been married for 9 years.
2. My husband and I ran a ministry in Africa.
3. He had an affair.
4. He decided he wants a divorce.
5. I'm living in Georgia for a season of restoration.
6. I'll be going back to Africa.

And all of that is true.

But I wonder if I'm hiding behind #s 3 and 4. Because I feel like I have to mention the affair and point out that he left me.

But I wonder what my motive is.

My unconscious thought in that moment is that simply saying I'm going through a divorce leaves the question of why. And they might think I cheated. Or assume I'm the one who chose to leave.

So I seemingly take on a defensive position right from the get-go. I fight to maintain my image right from the start.

And maybe I shouldn't.

Isn't that just plain ol' ugly arrogance? Or at the very least, insecurity?

The fact that I am the head of a ministry adds to the complexity of this for me. I don't want people to wonder who left who when I'm asking them to trust me to lead Thrive.

But maybe I need to let truth speak for itself.

And let God defend me.

Right from the get-go.

I don't know. I'm still trying to figure this one out.

coffee talk: authenticity & faith

As I wrestle with the risk of being more authentic, I'm struggling to find the line between authenticity and faith. I grew up in churches filled with happy, plastic Christians.

They answer "How are you?" with "I'm blessed!"

They don't admit to being sick even when they are, saying instead that they are "healed in Jesus' Name!"

And though I can't judge their hearts, it always seems more fake than faith.

It seems like denial.

And hypocrisy.

The implication is that if things aren't going well with you, it's because your faith just isn't strong enough.

And that's crap.

But things can get out of balance the other way as well.

Under the banner of authenticity, a lot of people are just plain negative.

They complain. A lot.

They're always responding to "How are you?" with far too much information. They let it all hang out, even at times when they "shouldn't".

And they just chalk it up to being real.

So how do we balance faith and authenticity?

When is it time to be honest about where you're at and when is it time to speak words of faith?

Talk amongst yourselves.

authenticity isn't found in the rearview mirror

I’ve often prided myself in my ability to share openly about things I've gone through, things I've struggled with. But then I realized it was only because they were past tense. I am being open and honest, but about my then, not my now.

It's easier to share my weaknesses after I've strengthened them. It's safer to talk about my failures once I've bounced back from them.

But it's not really authenticity if it's after the fact.

Genuine authenticity is transparent and unguarded and vulnerable.

And while there is some level of that in sharing about past struggles, nothing is quite as authentic as sharing about current struggles.

No matter what else I do in this year of risking more, nothing will be as hard as the risks I take with my heart.

But they are risks I want to take.

I desire the intimacy and closeness that comes with true authenticity. I crave the matchless relational connection that's borne out of putting my heart on the line.

Even though it leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I'm learning that with those I trust, I can be naked and unashamed.

So I'm stripping down and working on being more authentic in the moment.

And hoping the "unashamed" part will follow.

risky business

I'm not the most daring person. I tend to lean toward comfortable and familiar rather than new and exciting. I usually order the same favorite meal anywhere I eat. I even describe myself as an "indoor girl".

I have done some things in my life that were adventurous. I whitewater-rafted the Zambezi. I zip-lined through an Alaskan rain forest. I pulled the cord on a bungee swing in Cape Town. I ate grub worms. (Okay, maybe that's not exactly adventurous. But it is pretty wild!)

And my bucket list includes a few more daring things I'd like to someday accomplish. But in general, I don't think many would describe me as a thrill-seeker.

So choosing to focus on risk this year feels, well, risky. Which, I suppose, was the whole point.

My choice to risk is all about active trust. I'm being intentional to trust God, others, and myself more.

I've already told you that I doubt myself more than I ever have before. But I have the Holy Spirit who guides me into all truth living inside me. I want to live like I actually believe that's true. I will get it wrong sometimes, this I know for sure. But I choose to trust the power of Christ in me and the discernment God's given me. And that can't happen without risk.

I know that trustworthy people will still, at times, betray my trust. Even the best of friends will hurt me. But I still want to risk more in trusting them. I desire to know others intimately and be known by them in that same way. And that can't happen without risk.

Trusting God more means exercising my mustard-seed-sized dollop of faith more than I have been. I want to actively rely on Him for strength and wisdom. I want to see Him work through me in greater ways than He has before. I want to trust Him to answer the silent prayers of my heart for the changes I desire in my own life. And none of that can happen without risk.

So I've decided to risk this year.

It's definitely gonna kick me in the pants in my relationships. And it's going to carry a lot of weight whenever I'm faced with a decision. And I've started praying for it, which is a risk in itself.

Trust is the Achilles' heel of my life, my very own thorn in the flesh. But I'm stepping into the ring by making the decision to risk more.

It's gonna make this year a whole different kind of hard.

But, once again, I choose the hard.

'Cause I'm risky like that.

Why did you choose your word for 2010? What are you doing to focus on it?

...and it scares the crap out of me

If you've been around the Grit for any length of time, you know that trust has always been a struggle for me. A struggle I've continued to wrestle with, though, because I know it's worth the fight. Now throw my husband's unfaithfulness into the mix and give it a good shake. Trust is really hard for me right now, at a very core and basic level.

I'm finding it harder than ever to trust others and even God. But the uncertainty runs deeper than that.

I no longer trust myself.

For a year and a half, I was told that my gut instinct was wrong.  It was said over and over and over again that what I knew to be true, wasn't.

Eventually truth was exposed. And even though I had been right all along, any final remnants of confidence had already been evicted from my heart and self-doubt had set up camp.

And now I'm left doubting my intuition. I distrust my ability to perceive what's going on beneath the surface.

The line between discernment and paranoia is blurry. When I sense something is wrong or just "off", I make myself sick wondering if what I'm feeling is valid or if I'm just being hypersensitive.

And I'm not quite sure what to do with that.

I need to learn to trust myself again.

But I don't know how.

happy blogiversary to us!

Yesterday was my four-year blogiversary. I started blogging as a "let's see how this goes" way to keep a handful of friends and family updated on my life in Africa. But the opportunity to write personally in addition to all the writing I do for ministry made it quickly become a passion.

Then about two years ago, the Grit took on a life of its own.

It became the welcome mat that invited people into my life. I began developing real friendships. Conversations progressed from comments to emails. Then there were phone calls, and webcam chats, and even hugs.

Nobody was more surprised than I was.

And it surprises me still.

I have more friendships now than I ever have---real, raw, authentic friendships---and that blows me away. The sense of community that's been fostered here is one of the most unexpected blessings of my entire life.

My eyes fill with tears just thinking about how God's used you to carry me through this difficult year. I'm humbled and honored to call you friends.

I no longer blog simply to keep people updated on my life. And I certainly don't write just to throw words at you. Or to hear myself speak.

I come to the Grit for strength, support, encouragement, and community.

And I've never been disappointed.

Here's to you! Happy four years, friends!

cliff notes

Cliff notes of my week: I spent time in DC with my sweet friend Tracee. The morning after I arrived, I ended up in a pediatric (don't ask) dentist's office on an emergency visit . What I thought was possibly a filling that fell out was actually half my tooth. Yikes.

We ate at one of my favorite restaurants from back home in South Africa---in downtown DC. (Holla if you've ever eaten at Nando's on either side of the ocean!) I was disappointed they didn't have Castle Lager, but the peri-peri chicken made my nose run and my heart happy.

I volunteered at Catalyst One Day in Baltimore, and got to sit in on pretty much the entire event. God's good like that. (I love me some leadership development!)

I wasn't sure what to expect from my Meet Me at Starbucks shout-out, and was blown away that 17 people showed up. It was interesting to see corners of my world collide as ministry supporters, old friends, and bloggers intersected in one spot.

It felt a little blind-date-esque to finally meet Tonggu Momma, The Gypsy Mama, Stranger, and my lurking "I'll never comment" reader from Oklahoma. (Hi Karen!)

I didn't realize the implications when I announced on twitter and Facebook that "my 'blind date' at Starbucks was so great!" One friend told me with a raised eyebrow that he wanted to hear my crazy blind date story.  Another called his wife to see if she knew anything about this date I went on. Oops.

At the last minute, I booked a ticket to Detroit. Since I arrived two nights ago, I've shot a promo video, met with some pastors, spent time with a friend who works at Thrive, and hung out with my Yeller. Good times in Michigan. I'm ready to get home to the HTL though.

What are some cliff notes from your week?

denying myself

Jesus said, "Deny yourself and follow Me." But instead, I've denied myself for everybody but Him.

I've sacrificed myself to follow my husband. To lead my ministry. For the sake of my family. For the love of my friends.

I've gotten really good at self-sacrifice. So good, that I readily throw myself under the bus to keep peace. I take responsibility for others' wrongdoing when they're not willing to own it themselves.

My life has been marked by the belief that I am third, which translates into putting myself last---always. I've spent my entire life apologizing for being me.

I've been denying myself.

But I haven't been denying myself to follow Christ.

I've been denying myself to follow others. To simply be seen, rather than invisible. To receive love. To avoid rejection.

And in doing so, I handed the reins of my life over to everyone around me. I surrendered the control of my life to others.

I'm tired of denying myself for all the wrong reasons.

I want to live surrendered. But I want only to surrender to God.

He is the only One worth denying myself for.

i wish i'd known

I wish I'd known it would be our last hug.Kiss. Snuggle. Hand-hold.

I wish I'd known it would be our last stroll. Vacation. Sunset. Laugh.

I wish I'd known it would be our last everything.

But then again, maybe it's better that I didn't.

i wish it was just about the sex

"It didn't mean anything. I didn't really love her. It was just about the sex!" Hollywood's portrayal of adultery always includes that explanation. But when my husband's infidelity came to light, he didn't say that.

In fact, he said the exact opposite.

He told me he loved her differently, more deeply than he had loved me. That their relationship was special and intimate in a way we'd never experienced. He said he doesn't love me anymore.

And that he isn't sure he ever really loved me at all.

I wish it had just been an affair that "meant nothing". Sheer, unadulterated (!) lust would've been easier on my heart. But my story didn't come from a Hollywood script.

And even if it had, I know adultery never means nothing.

But what caused the deepest ache inside me is this: My husband chose to share the intimacy of his heart with a woman other than me.

I wish it had just been about the sex.

But it wasn't.

i want to get this right

I have wrestled through each of these posts as I've begun telling my story. I've spent hours writing and rewriting. I've had a friend look them over and make changes. I've slept on them and come back to make more edits the next morning. It's been hard to write them because it's forced me to sit in the hurts all over again. It's been difficult because of the responsibility I feel to the ministry I love, and my desire to represent her well. And it's been impossibly hard because of the weight I feel in how I speak about Niel.

I feel an undeniable tension between wanting to remain honoring of my husband and sharing authentically about what happened and how it's affected me.

I'm laboring over every word I write because I need to get this right. I want to get this right.

And yet I know that without me dressing it up at all, the truth is ugly. It's shocking. It's devastating. Even in the simple telling of facts in the most tactful and respectful way possible, it can seem like I'm being malicious.

But that certainly isn't my intention.

I hope my true heart shines through my words even as I share about the worst season of my life. I pray that in my transparency, you can see more than just my pain. I hope you can also see the love I still have for my husband and my unshakable desire to honor him even in this.

It's been a scary thing for me to feel so vulnerable and exposed by putting my raw heart out there for the masses to see and give their two cents on. But while it frightens me, I crave authenticity. It's been the single greatest intentionality of my blog---to foster authentic community. To share transparently and in doing so, make others feel safe, free, and comfortable to be transparent in return.

So I am committed to continue writing honestly and authentically about my story, while remaining mindful of how my words affect and reflect my ministry and my husband.

And I will continue to choose to honor him.

Because ultimately I desire to honor Him.

pageantry

I bet you didn't know I've been in a pageant. But not the kind you're probably thinking of. I've never strut around in a bikini and heels, or shown off some obscure talent, or publicly declared my desire for world peace.  No, I've never been in that kind of pageant.

My life has been a pageant of a different kind. One in which I've been crowned all sorts of things other than Miss America. I've worn banners draped across my chest that read:

Or how about:

I've walked around wearing those banners for far too long. They've shaped how others see me and, more importantly, how I see myself.

It's time to take them off and replace them with truth.

His banner over me is love.

my own personal black hole

I've been breathing in deeply for the past two weeks, and not just because of the crisp air of the Pacific Northwest. God's been breathing new life into my dry bones as I learn to depend on Him more and allow Him to love me through His people. Even though my crap sneaks into my luggage and unavoidably travels with me wherever I go, the time away still gave my heart a bit of a reprieve.

The rolling waves on the pebbly beach resounded His faithfulness. Whispers of love and syllables of support spoke His heart to mine. I felt His compassion in long, tight hugs and gentle touches. The city lights reminded me that He cares about even the little things.

I saw Him and heard Him and felt Him. And I was made aware again that He sees and knows and cares.

While I hate this place I find myself in---my own personal black hole that seems to render me invisible, slow my heartbeat, and make it impossible to see a way out---I know He's in it with me. Sometimes it's so dark I can't see Him. Sometimes it's so quiet, I can't hear Him. Sometimes it's so hollow and lonely, I can't feel Him. In those moments, I know it will be a miracle if I come out the other side of this.

And I know that if I do, I definitely won't come out standing.

Because I'll be in His arms.

face time

Have you seen Dentyne's current ad campaign?

I think it's sheer creative genius. Mostly because it deeply resonates with people. And while it doesn't make me want to blow bubbles with Dentyne gum, it does make me want to put down my laptop and enjoy some face time.

Living in Africa for over a decade, the internet has been my life source for connections. Most of my friendships have never been sustained with phone calls, coffee dates, lunches, or visits. Instead, they've been cultivated with emails, instant messages, blogging, and video chats.

Lately I've heard a lot of dialogue about whether or not community can be found online. This much I know is true: It can. I'm grateful for the rich, genuine friendships that I've fostered over the internet.

But while I appreciate the value of "technologically advanced" friendships, I also recognize the significance of what I've missed in actual face time. A text message communicates far less than a long, tight hug. A phone call pales in comparison with the unspoken expressions of a glance or a touch. An online chat is merely a shadow of a chai-in-hand conversation on a coffee shop couch.

I'll always be grateful for whatever form of connection and affection I'm blessed to have. But whenever possible, please can I have some face time?

'Cause, seriously... What I wouldn't give for a hug like this today---

meet dwayne

There's a certain Starbucks I visit fairly often, usually for hours on end with my laptop, journal, or Bible coming along for company. And there's a certain older gentleman who visits there just as regularly as I do. Dwayne's guaranteed to be found reading a newspaper, playing sudoku, or taking a nap in the middle of either. The other day I pit-stopped in a Starbucks on the complete other side of town. As I pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a familiar face enjoying a smoke outside. What was Dwayne doing here?!

"I feel like I've been caught cheating on my wife," he said when he saw me. He chuckled; I looked away and smiled.

In a strange city where I know practically no one, I was caught off guard by running into someone I "know". Made me realize just how long I've actually been here, and the fact that three months is a pretty long temporary.

I'm back in my usual Bux today after a bit of a hiatus. And Dwayne's not here. I wonder where he is, and if he's okay.

And I wonder if he's wondered the same about me.

time to talk about it

Depression is a sign of weak faith. I don't know that I was ever told those exact words, but growing up, it was certainly conveyed to me that a depressed Christian is a bad Christian. A depressed Christian obviously lacks a strong relationship with God. A depressed Christian just needs to pray more, speak words of faith, and spend more time in the Bible. A depressed Christian gives Jesus---and the Church---a bad name.

That kind of thinking kept me bound in a prison. Forced me to suffer quietly. Because... Well...

I'm depressed. And I have been for a while.

My life is rich in many, many ways. I love God; I've followed Him my whole life; I've served Him passionately on the mission field for over a decade. I have people in my life who love me deeply and whom I love deeply in return.

But I'm also facing the hardest thing I've ever had to endure. And it's left me struggling with depression for almost two years.

Do I have weak faith? Sometimes. (So thankfully all I need is a mustard seed sized dollop of it.) But I know now that my depression isn't a reflection of my faith.

And I'm so sorry for ever thinking anyone else's was a reflection of theirs.

thoughts from the quiet girl

Those who know me best know I'm not always quiet. But I often am. Especially in a crowd.

And even more especially with a group of strangers I'm supposed to suddenly connect with on some deep level.

Then I'm definitely the quiet one.

There are a lot of reasons why---some I'm aware of and some I'm not able to see clearly just yet. I know underlying most of them is the trust factor.

I strongly value trust and trustworthiness. So situations where I'm supposed to open up to people I don't yet trust---forced sharing, if you will---make me largely uncomfortable.

I was in a situation like that a few days ago. People all around me were sharing freely, and I just kept thinking, "I'm not built that way." I didn't say very much, and while I was okay with my reservedness, I found myself wondering what it made the others think.

I fear that my quietness makes people assume things about me which are not only unintended but also inaccurate. I'm afraid I might come across as arrogant, stuffy, or annoyed.

(Feeling misunderstood is one of the worst things for me.)

So I'd love your honest input:

What assumptions do you make about the quiet person in a group?

[Feel free to comment anonymously if you can be more honest that way.]

housekeeping!

I've been on vacation for almost a week. Well, kind of. Being with my sweet friend Tracee felt like a vacation; the fact that we were in Ohio did not. (No offense, Ohioans. I'm guessing that even you'd prefer to vacate out of state!)

We talked about everything and nothing, and anything in between. And we set the bar high on doing absolutely nothing and enjoying every minute of it.

This much I know is true: Tracee is good for me.

And now I miss her. (Again.)

Vacation is over. Back to real life...

What's been the highlight of the past week for you?

meeting a need

A phrase I keep hearing lately is this--- "Meeting a legitimate need illegitimately..."

In what ways might you be doing that?

four-minute friday: he held both

Go. I can't shake this thought, even though it's really hard for me to dwell on right now:

Jesus hung on that cross to take more than my own sins. He also hung there to carry the sins of others that hurt me deeply. And in that same instant, He hung there to carry the pain and sorrow I feel because of those sins against me.

In the very same moment, He held both. Wept for both. Bore the eternal burden of both.

So that both of us could be free.

Done.