Author: Heather Lea Campbell

Willow Creek Leadership Summit, Day 1!

christianity, church, Conference, WCLS

I’m very excited to join the Willow Creek Leadership Summit at the Grace Community Church satellite site in Indianapolis for the first time!  My church brings almost 100 people to this summit, and I love being able to do this with almost our entire staff team, as well as many of our dedicated volunteers.

Here are some of the highlights of the day that will stick with me:

One theme that was talked about was the idea of “visions” as part of being a “legacy leader.” If you want to leave your mark on an organization and leave a legacy, then Bill Hybels said:

  • What God treasures most are people…even more than visions.
  • Nobody drifts into being a legacy leader
  • The grander the vision, greater the price tag.
  • Legacy leaders will ride out the rough patches because they are working for the grandeur vision.

Another thing I loved is that the conference on our campus was full of young people.  Older leaders were inspired to give younger emerging leaders a chance, and by increasing the realms of responsibility, we can entrust emerging leaders with more.  One of our volunteers, who is active throughout the church and is an empty nester, pulled me aside and said, “The whole time I was thinking of you.” Mmm. So powerful.

None of us are “born” leaders, but have a passion and a vision and put it into action.  Carly Fiorina said, ” The highest calling of leadership is to unlock the potential in others.” This means that one of the greatest parts of being a leader is being able to groom new leaders. Leadership doesn’t happen top-down, but bottom-up–you can’t change an organization by changing the heads, but by getting the “grunts” on board. She said, “Jesus didn’t go to the poor because they needed help. He went to the poor because he knew the potential they had.” Yes yes yes.

Susan Cain’s talk on introverts was very inspiring. I’m a pretty middle-of-the-line kind of gal, who is extremely outgoing, but gets drained and needs pajamas and her cat. I loved that she was willing to challenge the status quo of organizations run by extroverts, and explain that we need to give space so that every person can work within the stimulation they’re capable of handling. We live in a world where everything is so loud, that we forget the beauty of quiet; therefore we forget the beauty of introverts.  She also pointed out that we need to think of “networking in terms of service.” Instead of sweet-talking, I could prove myself through my actions (a model I’m way better at).

The idea of self-sacrifice as a leader was important to Patrick Lencioni; “I’m tired of hearing about servant leadership because I don’t think there’s any other kind of leadership. . .A true leader sacrifices themselves for the well-being of others without a guarantee of a return on investment.”

There’s much more than I can write here, but day one was inspiring!

I’m going to stock my bookshelf tomorrow…

(PS–I LOVE conferences, but I cannot sit still to save my life…Millennial problems.)

This is MY Ferguson

america, social activism

My hometown is a national headline, and for reasons that feels surreal, yet admittedly it’s representative of a problem that has been there my entire life.

Ferguson, a suburb of St. Louis, MO, has been headlining news the past few days. Michael Brown, a recently graduated senior from Normandy High School, was killed by a police officer. There are multiple accounts of the story going around; however, one thing is clear: Mike was walking away. He had his hands up. He was unarmed. He was shot multiple times.

Words cannot express the tragedy.

I grew up in Ferguson and the cities that surround it. St. Louis County is made up of a bunch of tiny little cities that are practically on top of each other. We call Ferguson and the cities that surround it (Florissant, Berkeley, Calverton Park, Jennings, Normandy, Hazelwood, Dellwood, Riverview, Kinloch, and so on) North County.  North County has had a terrible reputation for a very long time. One of the most segregated cities in the country, you can see it here. North County has a lot of low-income housing made up of primarily minorities, especially blacks. However, there are little pockets of white communities, far nicer than the hoods, that are in the midst of it. Put that together, and you have a ghetto right next to nice suburban neighborhoods.

Because of the socioeconomic difference between whites and everyone else, this caused extreme segregation. People mostly stuck to their race.  The first school I went to was in Normandy, and I was beat up almost every day because I was the only white person. Even though we were young, we were all taught the differences between “us” and “them” in a very ugly way.  My house was tagged by gangs with spray paint. There were drug dealers on my street. Then I turned 8 and moved to the edge of Florissant, which is Ferguson’s sister.

Fortunately, my experience in Elementary school didn’t stick.  I went to McCluer High School, which is in the Ferguson-Florissant School District.  We had a lot of different races, including a nice population of exchange students and immigrants.  I didn’t really fit into the “white crowd,” because my family was extremely poor and full of addiction, very like most of the black communities in the area. Truthfully, I didn’t really fit into any crowd.  I found myself starting “Club International,” a school-sponsored organization that was to unite people, no matter their race, socioeconomic background, or religion. My inner circle of friendship consisted of all kinds of different races and skin tones. It was beautiful.

This was what Ferguson had to offer me: a thorough education of the different cultures and customs of our world. It’s what inspired some of my friends to pursue degrees in international business, foreign languages, and missions work.

Even though most  who are impoverished find themselves stuck in a place of poverty, Ferguson was a place where a person could gain redemption through education.  I was able to take the ACT twice, not needing to pay either time. My high school offered free prom tickets to those who scored a 21 or higher on the ACT, and I wouldn’t have been able to go to my senior prom if not for that. I had teachers work with me on my writing skills, my grammar, and my attitude.

This was my Ferguson; my North County. It wasn’t perfect.  But it had something to offer me.  The difference is that, as a white female, I had an advantage. Everyone expects you to get out–after all, there was a major White Flight from North County many decades ago. However, if you are black, and especially a black man, there are little expectations, especially because the majority of the city is run by white people.

As I watch my friends from high school and church back home in the midst of these riots, my heart aches. I wish I could do something.  I wish I could go home and remind them of the Black History classes we took every year, about how it was those who stood for PEACE that we celebrated in class, not those who caused riots. Those who stood their ground, who didn’t back down, yet did it without the added violence.

And as I think about Ferguson, my home… I think about all the beauty that’s there, things that were added to add life.  I think about Whistle Stop, and how at Ferguson Middle School we would walk there as a class field trip every year for ice cream.  I think about Street Fest. I think about live music in the summers.  I think about having home-field advantage there as outfielder on my winning softball team, the Ferguson Fire. I think about Girl Scout parades through the town.  I think about the new bicycle path put there in just the last few years.  I think about all the little family-owned restaurants and bars. I think about how I want to avoid Marley’s, a bar that consists 90% of people from my high school.  I think about January Wabash Park, how we’d watch fireworks every Independence Day, and how we did the mile run there in school…with the terrible hills. I think about the church I grew up in, which is right across the street from the looted shopping center on West Florissant Rd. I think about all the times I told my mom I was staying after school, but really roaming the streets with my friends.

And I think about the injustices that never seem to end. Racist white leadership. Black-on-black violence. A struggling economy.

So this is MY Ferguson: Complex. Yet it has beauty. Ferguson was a city really fighting for something to give its residents…and it infuriates me that people (who, are PS, mostly not even from Ferguson) are looting, burning, and causing violence.

But if you ask me the truth, I have to wonder: The things put in Ferguson to give it beauty and life–who are they reaching? If we have 2/3 black and 1/3 white, why are there country music concerts in the summer time? Why are there bike paths–not for commuting to work, but for exercise?  The beautification isn’t for the poor, but for the middle class to have something nice to look at, widening a gap and making blacks even more disenfranchised. “MY” Ferguson is in most cases, the white Ferguson.  Even though I’ve seen the poverty, I’ve also had interests catered to my Caucasian culture. Because again: I am white and therefore have a privilege in that area, whether I’m poor or not.

Despite not having the automatic white privilege I have, Mike Brown was making better for himself. He graduated high school from Normandy High, a school that is one of the roughest around. He was to begin college this week at Vatterott, a trade school with a great reputation. Mike could have made a great life for himself. Whether he did anything “wrong” in this situation, he didn’t deserve to lose his life. He was no threat. He was a kid achieving things that most don’t get to do.

I ask that you partner with me in prayer for my hometown. It shaped a lot of who I am, and although I’m in a different city now, I miss it. I wish there were easy answers.

I also ask that you pray for Mike’s family. I can’t even fathom what they’re going through right now, watching Mike’s legacy being “honored” by riots full of vandalism and violence.

Lastly, I ask that you join me in prayer for prejudism to be removed from our hearts. That we’ll learn to give respect to one another, no matter their color, their gender, their religion, their sexual orientation, their background, their socioeconomic status, their waist size, etc.  I pray that the Kingdom of Heaven will slowly be revealed more and more on earth, and that we can be restored…and quick.

Building a Healthy Ministry-Esteem

leadership, Ministry

This post originally appeared here: http://youthmin.org/building-a-healthy-ministry-esteem/

I think there’s a dichotomy of the way youth pastors, or honestly anyone in general, tends to view themself: Either we are incredibly full of ourselves, or incredibly unsure of ourselves. Put another way: Either we think we’re the “poop”, or a piece of “poop.” Either way, it stinks and funks up our ministry.

Prideful people push others away. There are plenty of posts out there on pride, so I want to focus on the opposite.

Humility is great. Humility is Godly. But listen: Humility is not thinking of yourself as lowly and unworthy of love or even praise. Humility is putting God’s agenda above our own and praising Him in successes.

How Low Ministry-Esteem Hurts

Humility is not low self-esteem. Low self-esteem hurts ministry because the minister second guesses himself. It hurts because the minister isn’t confident in the choices he makes, the lessons he teaches, or the students he lead.  In other words, it is:

  • Lack of confidence in decision-making abilities, so he often second-guesses them and loses respect of those who watch him make the decisions.
  • Lack of confidence in ability to bring the Gospel, so he downplays it and doesn’t deliver the Gospel message aggressive enough or convicting enough.
  • Lack of confidence in ability to draw students with Jesus, so he has trouble developing events and programming.
  • Lack of confidence in the students’ ability to reach others for Jesus, so he doesn’t put in place the appropriate programming providing missional opportunities.
  • Any others? Put them in the comments.

Building Balance

We are depraved, there’s no doubt about it. Yes, we are helpless (Romans 5:6). Yes, we shouldn’t think we are better than we really are (Romans 12:3). And yes, we are not to boast or be arrogant (1 Corinthians 13:4). And of course, we are to think of others as more highly than ourselves, for even Christ emptied himself and humbled himself to being a man dying on a cross…for us (Philippians 2).

But look at that: Christ saw us worthy enough to die for us. God loved us so much that he sent his son to die for us (John 3:16).

So even if we are nothing compared to Christ, that doesn’t mean that we are nothing to Christ. We were made in God’s image (Genesis 1). We were fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139). God gave us a spirit, “not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Timothy 1:7). God gave us each a very personal gift from his Spirit to use for his Kingdom, and he expects us to use it. Paul says to the Thessalonians (2:4-5):

“And we have confidence in the Lord about you, that you are doing and will do all the things that we command. May the Lord direct your hearts to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ.”

Humility is denying personal sin, regarding others as God sees them, and knowing that we are loved.  And you are loved, dear friend and minister of young people.

Live a redeeming and affirming life knowing this.

Providing Perfection to Students

girls ministry, junior high ministry, youth ministry

During our Local Missions Trip, some of my precious junior high girls and I somehow found ourselves chilling in my office (how we fit so many of us in there kills me–we must have really been trying to escape those boys!).  We were playing board games, when one of them found my memory box. I was going through it, sharing funny stories about  the moments from past churches.

One of the girls then asked me, “Are you going to be here very long?”

Dang.

Youth pastors in general have a problem with not sticking around very long. Add in the Millennial factor, and we’re flightier than migrating geese.  Our students in my church have especially been victims of youth leaders who were only around 2-3 years, with exception of our head director.

I don’t want to be one of those people who leaves when things get tough–and I’ve certainly had a boot camp in my first 8 months here! I want to remember, when I’m burned out from mission trips and kickoffs and spending so much time away from my one-eyed cat, that the reason I do this is to give my precious students some sort of consistency in their life. I may not be perfect, but what I can provide for them is exactly what they need.

So then, my girls and I sprinkled wish dust and painted our nails. And then played “Fodgeball” with the boys, fog machines, and strobe lights. A perfect night in junior high ministry.

What can you do to make sure that you stick with it? What can your church do?

Stop Sharing Your Stories With Your Students!

youth ministry

I’ve got to be honest–I’ve never been a cool kid. I’m okay with that.

And because of that fact, I’ve struggled to gain rapport with students.  This is why I love Junior High students–for the most part, they think that I’m cool just because I’m hanging out with them. We play games, we eat pizza, and we are best friends. High school is much more difficult.

I used to think that I just had to force rapport–I’d:

  • Tell them they can “ask five questions they want about me”–but it usually ends up in an awkard conversation about my lack of a love life, or an even more awkward reveal about my crazy family.
  • Go ahead and “share my testimony” with them so they know up-front about my crazy family.  But this actually has created walls.  My life is pretty unique, and unless I’m talking to a certain group of students, all it says to students is “I come from a completely different background than you.”  I received feedback in my internship four years ago this from the group of suburban high school girls I worked with. They felt like they couldn’t relate to me off the back.
  • Interrupt a conversation to share a random story about my sister, my cat, my first car, my high school days, etc.

And so I’ve realized something…

Students don’t care about my life.

Now, that isn’t completely true.  But there’s one important truth:

Students care when I care about their life.

Want to build rapport? Quit talking about your embarrassing high school moments out of the blue. Ask them questions!  Ask them about their family, their school, and more! Learn to be more of a by-standard and absorb conversations, and when there’s a natural moment, ask a question that opens the floor and creates rapport.

Here’s an example–on our mission trip, someone brought up a scar story or something like that, so a leader asked: What is the stupidest way you’ve ever gotten injured? Soon, students are laughing and sharing their stories with one another. Then I get to share how I once sucked a cup to my face so hard, it wouldn’t come off…and when it did, I had a huge circle bruise. Yes, I essentially gave myself a hickey gotee around my mouth.  But had I been like, “Guess what guys? One time…” they would have laughed and gone “Wow she’s weird for sharing that out of the blue” and then Snapchatted to their friends about the weirdo adults on their trip.

It’s kind of like that basic dating rule (you know, since I’m such a guru): Listen more than you talk. If you talk too much about yourself, then that person is going to think that you only care about yourself.  Teenagers want to talk about themselves to people who want to listen.

Committing.

millennials

Hi, my name is Heather, and I’m a failure at commitment.

No, this post is not about my love life. Although it historically applies.

At 24 years old, I guess you can’t ask a whole lot of me. Most people my age still haven’t had their first full-time job; in fact, they are finishing up their 4-year degrees after 6 years. Ha.

I haven’t had the same job for more than 18 months…which is sad. When things got tough, I moved to the next thing. This is true in friendships, relationships with guys, and even family relationships.

I had to do this for a while–learn how to make healthy cuts in life. I’m so afraid of falling into a pattern of addiction (like 95% of my family) that I refuse to be tied to something.  Two months ago, I quit coffee cold-turkey to prove that I wasn’t addicted–the thought of even caffeine addiction repulses me.

But a year ago, I decided to make some changes.

So, I tried to date (fail. fail. fail). I figured I should probably try commitment in some different ways before I made that one.

I moved to Indianapolis, a huge commitment–moving to a city where I knew nobody. You can’t just run away from that.

I took a full-time ministry position, deciding to commit for the first time to just one job, with no “side jobs.”

I even quit a youth ministry website that I loved, knowing that I had to put all my time in one place and quit running around trying to balance 2973 things on my plate at once.

I then stopped sub-leasing and leasing with roommates and got my own place.  I’m not the type of person that would break a contracted lease–ain’t nobody got money for that.

I got a cat. Okay, don’t laugh at me, but this is huge–I’m the type of person that is so independent, dependence annoys me. So, part of being a woman that commits means committing to having a creature depend on me. Huge deal.

I guess you could say that in 8 short months, I’ve made a lot of big commitments. I’m sure that some people read this and go “big whoop, you’re growing up.” As one of my co-workers used to tell our teenagers, every day is about “growing up a little bit more.” I recognize that this is true at 14, 24, 54, and beyond.

So I write this to encourage you–are you truly committed?  Or are you “subleasing” life?

Being Vulnerable

Uncategorized

I haven’t posted in a while, and that’s because I’m in a stage of transformation. As we all are and should be.

7 months ago, I moved my entire life to Indianapolis in the pursuit of being full-time at one thing. I’m really good at committing to multiple things and over-booking life, and I wanted to centralize things and commit to one big thing. More on that in the next post.

I’ve always been labeled by friends as two things: Hilarious and Transparent. Incredibly and to a fault self-aware, I know that I’m extremely vulnerable. I cannot hide it. Even PlayBuzz detects that every thing I do comes from a place of vulnerability.

image

I believe Creator God created each of us with individual attributes that strongly reflect an image of him. Because none of us are perfectly sanctified, we each bear glimpses of God that together make up his image. Beautiful to think about. And because we haven’t reached perfection, those attributes come with Earthy flaws–

My attribute is my vulnerability and consequently empathy. Which is beautiful as a minister, and frustrating as a human being. My emotions are always on my forehead and they get me in trouble, but also inspire people to love what I love.

That said, I want to explain how this led to a break in blogging.

In February, I began loathing the voice I had taken as a blogger. I gained feedback that I had become arrogant and ignorant, two things I disdain.

I removed myself as the editor and a  contributor at the youth ministry website I was working at, understanding that I had taken on the voices of other contributors with little success at translating that to my own unique voice, therefore rubbing readers wrongly.

And as I explored my journey individually, I realized that I am no expert, no guru. When I began blogging, it was an outlet.  But as I became more known, there was a pressure to fit into a mold, especially in the blogging circle I ran with.  As an editor, blogging became: meeting deadlines. Editing blogs that I don’t really agree with. Trying to have the conversation of “what is our purpose as a site?” I struggled to cope with the fact that my purpose as a blogger was different than those I worked with; and truthfully I loved those guys as friends deeply, but wasn’t on the same page in terms of blogging philosophy. Those things made me unhappy and caused me to resent the youth ministry blogosphere as a whole, and I needed a break.

So my break begged the question : if I am to blog, which I love, what is my purpose?

I get emails all the time from people who appreciate that most beautiful and damning thing about me: the fact that my emotions are on the table.  And that’s who I am on my personal blog : Vulnerable, hilarious, hot mess, educating myself and others as I write, Heather.  Whose purpose is to empower others to just… Be themselves. Which is a reflection of Creator God.

***I’m so grateful to those who’ve walked with me through life over the last year, because who I am is constantly changing. I also know that because I process with anxiety, I’ve hurt dear friends as I’ve made impulsive decisions. I’m learning. I apologize.

#SelfieSunday Scavenger Hunt

games, Resources, youth ministry

We played a game yesterday that was OFF THE CHARTS FUN.

#SelfieSunday Scavenger Hunt

The vibe: We didn’t have normal programming in our youth Lodge, but because we already graduated 5th grade to the Lodge, and they did have programming, we decided they could have The Lodge all to themselves. Since it was their 3rd week in, the leaders thought a scavenger hunt would be awesome. Well, if you know me, then you know I’m not just gonna hand a kid a checklist.

The directions:  

  1. I asked students with Instagram and their cell phones on them (I ended up letting a group use mine……whoops) to be group leaders. I told them to take their accounts off private just for a little while.
  2. I counted off the group to split off. We had about 20 5th graders, so we had 5 groups. Having more than 4 or 5 per group makes cramped selfies.
  3. I told them to come up with a group name and use it in every photo that they hashtag, as well as “selfiesundayJH.”
  4. Then I gave them a list of selfies to make and 20 minutes. The energy was WILD.
  5. On the screen I had InstafeedLive. Every time they used our hashtag, the photo would show up on the screen. Again, accounts need to be off private in order for this to work.
  6. When they came back, they looked at the pictures on the screen while I counted up the votes. Honestly, they loved looking at them so I could take my time. #TeamSwagalicious won.

The List of Selfies: Here’s my list!

Because the purpose was to introduce them to The Lodge and let them truly own it for a day, I put some Lodge-specific activities on there. I also put some things for them to “find,” like my St. Louis Cardinals hat that a volunteer was wearing the entire time.

I also let them venture out slightly into the parking lot–a selfie by the Basketball hoop, a selfie in the Recycling Dumpster, a yellow car that they couldn’t find because apparently the people at my church don’t drive those, and more!

Then there’s the “generic selfies”–the photobomb (“sneak selfie”), hair mustaches, a stranger, and of course a most creative selfie.

If you did this with older students or had more time, you could have adults drive them and do fun selfies off-campus. Because of the vibe I was trying to create, I wanted to keep them close.

The product: Amazingness. Our adult leaders were obsessed. Our students were excited. Even when selfies weren’t coming on the screen “fast enough,” they were still eating it up. I received an email from a parent saying it was the best part of her daughter’s day (Happy Mother’s Day!). Kids were commenting on the students’ photos asking what “JH” stood for (one asked if it meant “just hanging”–to which I responded that they could “just hang” with us ANYTIME. I may have embarrassed my student). It was a fun vibe and the students couldn’t stop talking about it. I got approximately 23048 hugs before they left.

Basically–DO IT. IT’S SO MUCH FUN. I CAN’T EVEN.

“Jesus Feminist” and the Why We Need Women Theologians

church, Evangelicalism, theology, women

Although John Piper and I would disagree on how this plays out, a quote of his has stood out to me:

Wimpy theology makes wimpy women. Wimpy theology simply does not give a woman a God that is big enough, strong enough, wise enough, and good enough to handle the realities of life in a way that magnifies the infinite worth of Jesus Christ.”

A few months back I read the book “Jesus Feminist” by Sarah Bessey. The book is simply marvelous. A lot of female theologians tend to bullhorn their theology in a way that is counteractive.  Bessey writes in a way that is empathetic and has a way of saying, “You may disagree, but we both love the Lord the same. Neither of us is more right than the other.”

Her book reminds me why we need female theologians:   We need people to express God’s Word in ways that are sensitive, nurturing, and that narrate the stories of our lives. Bessey’s book does that.

Here are some of my favorite quotes:

So may there be grace and kindness, gentleness and love in our hearts, especially for the ones who we believe are profoundly wrong. The Good News is proclaimed when we love each other. I pray for unity beyond conformity, because loving-kindness preaches the gospel more beautifully and truthfully than any satirical blog post or point-by-point dismantling of another disciple’s reputation and teaching. (p5)

Years ago, I practiced anger and cynicism, like a pianist practices scales, over and over. I practiced being defensive —about my choices and my mothering, my theology and my politics. And then I went on the offense. I repeated outrage and anger. I jumped, Pavlovian, to right every wrong and defend every truth, refute every inflammatory blog post, pontificate about every question. Any sniff of disagreement was a dinner bell clanging to my anger: Come and get it! Rally the troops! Like many of us, I called it critical thinking to hide my bitter and critical heart, and I wondered why I had no real joy in this ongoing search for truth. . . I won’t desecrate beauty with cynicism anymore. I won’t confuse critical thinking with a critical spirit, and I will practice, painfully, over and over, patience and peace until my gentle answers turn away even my own wrath (pp. 5-6).

We can choose to move with God, further into justice and wholeness, or we can choose to prop up the world’s dead systems, baptizing injustice and power in sacred language.  (p. 14).

I’m pretty sure my purpose here on earth isn’t to win arguments or perform hermeneutical gymnastics to impress the wealthiest 2 percent of the world. (p. 16).

Throughout the records of the Gospels, I saw how Jesus didn’t treat women any differently than men, and I liked that. We weren’t too precious for words, dainty like fine china . We received no free pass or delicate worries about our ability to understand or contribute or work. Women were not too sweet or weak for the conviction of the Holy Spirit, or too manipulative and prone to jealousy, insecurity, and deception to push back the kingdom of darkness. Jesus did not patronize, and he did not condescend. (pp. 17-18).

“God bless your mother— the womb from which you came, and the breasts that nursed you!” Yet Jesus replied to this common blessing with “But even more blessed are all who hear the word of God and put it into practice.”  Women aren’t simply or only blessed by giving birth to greatness; no, we are all blessed when we hear the Word of God—Jesus— and put it into practice. We don’t rely on secondhand blessings in Jesus.  (pp. 20-21).

I stopped expecting everyone to experience God or church or life like I thought it should be done. In fact , I stopped using the word should about God altogether, I sought God, and he was faithful to answer me. I came to know him as “Abba”— a Daddy. He set me free from crippling approval addiction, from my Evangelical Hero Complex, from the fear of man. He bathed my feet, bound my wounds, gave rest to my soul, restored the joy of church and community to our lives. I learned the difference between critical thinking and being just plain critical. And I found out that he is more than enough, always will be more than enough— yesterday, today, forever. (pp. 49-50).

Stay there in the questions, in the doubts, in the wonderings and loneliness, the tension of living in the Now and the Not Yet of the Kingdom of God, your wounds and hurts and aches, until you are satisfied that Abba is there too. You will not find your answers by ignoring the cry of your heart or by living a life of intellectual and spiritual dishonesty. (p. 52).

People want black-and-white answers, but Scripture is rainbow arch across a stormy sky. Our sacred book is not an indexed answer book or life manual; it is also a grand story, mystery, invitation, truth and wisdom, and a passionate love letter. (pp. 56-57).

It’s dangerous to cherry-pick a few stand-alone verses, particularly when they are used as a weapon to silence and intimidate, effectively benching half the church in the midst of holy harvest season when the harvest is plentiful and the workers are few. But it is equally dangerous to simply get on with doing what we “feel” is right. We cannot ignore any portions of Scripture simply because they make our (post) modern selves uncomfortable. We can’t simply dismiss the parts of the Bible we don’t like— not if we call ourselves followers of The (whole) Way. Nor should we weigh the desires or practices of our own culture and personal experiences to the exclusion of Scripture or tradition  or reason. Theologian N. T. Wright believes that to affirm the “authority of Scripture” is precisely “not to say, ‘We know what scripture means and don’t need to raise anymore questions.’ It is always a way of saying that the church in each generation must make fresh and rejuvenated efforts to understand scripture more fully and live by it more thoroughly, even if that means cutting across cherished traditions.” (pp. 58-59)

But then who is the spiritual head of your home? Only Jesus. Only ever our Jesus. (p. 74).

No, I am a biblical woman because I live and move and have my being in the daily reality of being a follower of Jesus, living in the reality of being loved, in full trust of my Abba. I am a biblical woman because I follow in the footsteps of all the biblical women who came before me.  (pp. 97-98).

Stop waiting for someone else to say that you count, that you matter, that you have worth, that you have a voice, a place, that you are called. Didn’t you know, darling? The One who knit you together in your mother’s womb is the one singing these words over you, you are chosen. Stop waiting for someone else to validate your created self: that is done. Stop holding your breath, working to earn through your apologetics and memorized arguments, through your quietness, your submission, your home, your children, and your “correct” doctrine that God has already freely given to you. Because, darling , you are valuable. You have worth, not because of your gender or your vocation or your marital status. Not because of your labels or your underlined approved-by-the-gatekeepers books or your accomplishments or your checked-off tick boxes next to the celebration you’ve mistaken as a job description in Proverbs 31. (pp. 192-193).