The Greater...

I remember this morning six years ago vividly. Up early to prepare for the delivery of our daughter whose heart had stopped in the womb. The drive to the hospital that afternoon, the wait in the hospital bed, the nurse (Glenda) who wheeled me back (alone) to the delivery room, the sound of a newly born infant crying in the delivery room connected to mine, the touch of Glenda's hand on my mine as she squeezed it reassuringly. These are all things that I remember and think of often. I remember the recovery room and Glenda's voice telling us about footprints and birth certificates. I remember leaving the hospital in a wheelchair, footprints in hand, baby left behind.

It may seem that my loss was great that day six years ago. For me, it is the greatest loss I've experienced, but even as I type, I know others (some whom I love dearly) who are walking through even deeper, even greater losses. What six years have taught me is that I really know very little about loss, death, and that deep, deep valley in the shadow of death.

I could remain focused on my lack, that I don't have a dark-haired freckled girl in kindergarten this year, that I don't iron dresses that twirl, or paint fingernails, or put bows in hair. I could...

But God did something six years ago, something that is far greater than anything I had experienced before or since.

Yes, He took my daughter, a little girl with a big birth defect that He could have healed. This knowledge has always been with me. My God is not impotent. He is mighty and powerful and the Creator of All things. Even the moment Glenda wheeled me into delivery, I knew that in that moment, He could have made all right with her, He could have breathed life into her lifeless body, He could have made her heart beat again. He could...

But God took from me to give to me. Today, I reflect upon the gift He gave six years ago.

John 1:14 "And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth."

I wish I could explain to you the way in which God stepped between me and my circumstances and eclipsed my pain. Every time I remember the shock and pain of hearing she would die, I immediately remember the way in which Jesus bore that sorrow for me. I remember the inexplicable joy I felt during my pregnancy. Joy that didn't match my circumstance, but matched my Savior. I don't know why He chose to show me His glory in that way, but I do know that He did.

I asked Him---I begged Him to help me. I cried out that I was weak and could not carry a baby that was going to die. He came down to me. He knelt with me. He took up the weight of my burden and He carried it for me. And as He was there in that place with me, His incredible, indescribable glory overwhelmed me, filled me with uncontainable joy and delight. It was odd to feel so incredibly happy when you are pregnant with a baby who is going to die.

I wish I could show you what I knew to be true about Him and what I continue to know even now. I wish I could tell you what He told me as I clung to His Word and listened with ears to hear.

He could have saved her. He could have given her back to me.

But God had something greater for me...Himself.

Today, I celebrate the life of Ella Grace Thurman--though she lived only momentarily in this life, she lives forever in the next. Today, I celebrate the gift that I received through her death---a knowledge of the Holy One that has no price for it carries me through every day and everything that I face. It solidified my faith, it firmed up my foundation, it was the Word Becoming Flesh in my life. It is the greater because He is the greater.

Today, I am reminded of my lack in this life, but reassured of my plenty in the life to come.
Today, I am overwhelmed, brought to tears remembering the greatest gift my Savior has ever given me.
Who am I that He would do this? May I always be found faithful to Him in all circumstances.

Happy Birthday Ella Grace Thurman. My heart overflows with joy knowing you are in the presence of your Creator experiencing the full glory of our Lord. May you dance today in His presence in a dress that twirls with bows in your hair. May you know that I love you, but He loves you perfectly.

Because A Black Boy Calls Me Mama: Part Two

That there is a part two to this blog post is saddening to me. Sometimes, I'm dangerously close to being disheartened, but the truth that God is bigger and mightier than all, including things like racism, prejudice, agism, classism, poverty, and so on and so on rings clear in my mind and on my heart. My words will not end these things. Truthfully, I think until our broken world is made new by our risen Savior, no sin will end.
At the start of this post, two more black males have died at the hands of white police officers. I know little facts about either case. I can make no judgment and won't. I can speak to the emotions that these stories evoke in me. Being a black boy's mama requires that I lean upon Jesus daily. I have NO idea what it's like growing up black in America where blacks and other minorities have been systematically oppressed. I find everyday that there are things I don't even consider that black mothers do consider when raising their young sons.
For example, I bought my boys cap guns yesterday. I thought nothing of it except that my brother and I had cap guns when we were growing up and we had great fun with them. They were over the moon about them and opened them immediately when we returned home. It wasn't until I saw them chasing each other around our large back yard, firing their cap guns at each other, that I thought, "Is this a good idea?" We teach our children gun safety from a young age and keep our guns locked away, but they have always been allowed to play with toy guns---usually nerf guns or water pistols. These cap guns look nothing like real guns really. They are big and fat and made from clear plastic, but something inside my heart quaked a little. The question: "Would this cost James his life one day?" Would my allowing them the freedom to imagine and pretend that they were police officers ("the good guys") chasing down criminals, one day mean that my son is thought a criminal?
Truthfully, I dismissed my thoughts as silly and said, "No. I don't think this will happen to us." And that's where I'm separate from black mothers. It's never happened in my family. I have no personal experience from which to draw. This is my white privilege.
I've thought a lot about James 1:19 these past few days. "Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger." I've realized in my meditating on this verse that maybe African Americans don't need another white person defining their experience or trying to explain their situation. Maybe they need to be allowed a voice, a chance to speak for themselves to people who are willing to really hear them.
I am left to wonder though, have their voices been muted too long, have their cries fallen on deaf ears too long? I sincerely hope not. I'm here to hear, to listen, to offer only my ear and my prayer.

We Are The Evil

We Are The Evil
There is a narrative that began the moment Adam and Eve believed the lie of Satan and disobeyed God by eating the fruit of the forbidden tree. The fruit they ate did not make them unrighteous. The disobedience was sin and sin entered their hearts and thus the heart of every person after them. Their natures changed when they made that choice and thus the nature of every person after them. 

We are the Evil.

Skin color is not the evil.

A uniform and badge are not the evil.

Money is not the evil.

A raised fist is not the evil.

A movement is not the evil.

We are the evil. Jeremiah 17:9 reminds us that the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately sick. Who can understand it? 

Every. single. person has a heart set on sin and wickedness. It is only the blood of Jesus Christ that offers forgiveness and washes this heart clean. It is only by turning away from this sin and believing in Jesus that we are afforded the luxury of Jesus' righteousness being counted as our own. If then, we have received this luxury, will we not afford grace and peace to others, especially to those created in the image of the Creator---which is every person ever created?

Because I know that my heart is deceitful above all things, I know that on any given day, I can give in to the sinful desires of my heart which include, but are not limited to, prejudice, covetousness, bitterness, envy, quarreling, selfishness, etc. My profession and position do not remove these things from my heart. The blood of Jesus overcomes them. I battle them daily, except for when I don't and then they show their ugly face in my impatience, haughtiness, snippety attitude, sullen expression, and lack of compassion.

I am the evil.
But I am redeemed and I do not have to live in the evil. My days can be more than giving myself over to my flesh. But I must remember as I experience my life in this America that others like me are fighting the same battle with their flesh and sometimes, like me, they lose. For them, I must have grace. Still others are not like me and aren't fighting their flesh at all or even acknowledging it exists. For them, I must have grace and the Word of Truth ready.

No, a badge does not make one evil.
The color of one's skin does make one evil.
But a badge does not mean an absence of a sin nature and oppression does not equal righteousness.

Romans 12:20-21: "On the contrary, 'If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him a drink. For in so doing, you will heap burning coals on his head.' Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." 

Books and Movies for Review

Since the events of last week, I've seen a lot of my African-American friends talking about starting conversations, keeping dialogue alive. I hear them and think it's important to keep the conversation alive and to constantly seek pro-active things we can do to bridge the gap. Part of breaking through barriers is understanding why the barrier is there to begin with. Aren't we better armed with knowledge and some understanding than none at all? I think so. As the weekend is upon us, I have some suggestions for movies that you could watch. Remember they are movies, produced by Hollywood, but I've found these movies to be helpful in my quest for understanding these past two years.

12 Years A Slave
http://www.12yearsaslave.com
This story is a hard one. It is based on the true events of Solomon Northrup, a free black man who was stolen from his home and family and enslaved in the South for 12 years. I've read the book written by Northrup and found that the movie closely followed the book (something that's rare in Hollywood).
DISCLAIMER: This isn't a movie for kids or even teenagers really. There is nudity, violence and harsh scenes (all of which are recorded in the book). I probably won't show this movie to my sons until they are in college and I'll watch it with them because there will need to be lots of discussion.

Selma
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1020072/
This story is not as intense as 12 Years A Slave, but there are some intense moments and if you're like me, you might find yourself yelling at the screen. It tells the story of King's march in Selma and chronicles part of the Civil Rights Movement.

If you're interested in some books to read, here are some that I've found helpful to me:

Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In The Cafeteria
https://www.amazon.com/Black-Kids-Sitting-Together-Cafeteria/dp/0465083617
This is a book written from a secular perspective, so keep that in mind if you are a believer. There is some great stuff in here that was difficult for me to read because of my black son. She presents some interesting ideas about racism and redefines some things that I think are helpful. I don't agree with everything she says, but I did learn a lot and my perspective was broadened.

Bloodlines by John Piper
http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/download-bloodlines-for-free
This is a great book written by John Piper. It's from a Biblical perspective and provides a Biblical foundation for understanding the sin of racism. I've included the link to download the book for free if you have an eReader or you can read it on your computer. It is heady and not an easy read, but worth getting through.

The Color of Water
http://www.jamesmcbride.com/the-color-of-water.html
This is a memoir by James McBride that tells the story of his Jewish mother and her life as a white woman married to a black man in the midst of the Civil Rights movement and her conversion to Christianity. When I was a high school English teacher, I taught this book to my students. I recently had a student tell me that he still remembered the book and the effect it had on his life. It's an easy read and offers insight into her story and what it was like for her raising her children in New York City during the fifties and sixties. It's an excellent read and one of my favorite books.

Thanks for going along on this journey with me. Thanks for being willing to put into action the thoughts and conversations because the talk is meaningless without the action. You all encourage me!

The First Step Is To Consider

Today marks the start to a new week, a new day, a new opportunity. As a new week begins and the news stories begin to shift to the "next breaking" thing, we can be tempted to move on from the events of last week and the weekend. We can be tempted to stop the conversation, end the dialogue about the issues of race in America, but this can't happen . If we do that, we become reactionary and not pro-active. In order to truly make a difference, to really begin to see change, we have to move from reacting to tragedy to seeking out change and making sure that type of tragedy isn't commonplace. I want to continue the conversation. I can't explain what it's like to be black in America. I can only write from the perspective of a white mother raising two sons, one white, one black.
I'm going to ask a few things of you today and this week. They won't require you to do anything really other than reflect, think, consider, and maybe ask a few questions.

I'm asking you to consider the world you live in today. Not the big world, but the little world that is your community. Just take stock of it. Take a look around, maybe pause and reflect upon what it looks like and who it involves.
What is your job like? Are there people of color there? Who are your supervisors?
Who are your friends? When you go to church what does it look like? Are there people of color in your church? Are there people of color in leadership at your church? Have you ever had a person of color in a supervisor role over you?
Who is your child's ball, cheerleading, gymnastics coach? Who are your child's teachers? Are there people of color with whom your children interact? What does your world look like? That's all I'm asking you to consider this week.
Not because I want to point out that you're racist or a segregationist. Not at all, please trust my heart. I'm asking you this because I wonder if you do this, if you'll discover the same thing that I did about my own world...it's very vanilla and America is still really segregated, not legally, but socially, personally. I know that when I began to consider my own answers to these questions, I realized just how segregated we are. I don't think there is an easy fix necessarily; it will require time and constant effort, but for today, I just ask you to consider your own world. The first step of considering your own life will maybe help in realizing that we really do have a problem in America. We really aren't as integrated as we like to think we are. We really aren't as unified as we'd like to think we are. Maybe you'll be like me and you'll begin to ask "Why?" things are the way they are and perhaps this will lead to a desire to understand and hopefully to more conversations that lead to action.

Let us start this week considering...and praying for God to facilitate change in our hearts and lives.

What Is White Privilege Really?

I am the first to confess and admit that I do not have all the answers. I don't know that I have any of them really. I only have the Word of God and the experiences of black men and women whom I respect and trust. I must also confess that my desire to begin a dialogue among people, my reason for posting anything about race is that the stakes are high for me. I have a black boy who calls me mama and I feel as if I fail him if I do not use my voice to be a part of the solution.

Part of stepping across the dividing line and seeking to understand our black brothers and sisters is admitting that white people have privilege in this country. I think the term "white privilege" is grossly misunderstood and misconstrued. I don't think I have all the answers about it, but I do want to clarify what I mean by it and how I understand it. I welcome any civil and open dialogue about it. 

White Privilege Does Not Equal Guilt. When I think of white privilege I don't think of guilt. It's not a cause and effect statement---to a degree. I do think there are instances where the white privilege of some Americans has inadvertently oppressed African-Americans. Hear me out on this one. I am a white woman. I'm also an American by birth. I did not choose to be an American. It was ordained by God that I would be born in America. Because I am an American by birth, I have privilege over people born in third world countries. I have had an easier life and have been able to accomplish a lot of things a lot easier than my brothers and sisters in third world countries.

I should not apologize for being born in America, nor should I feel guilty. Doing so would imply that God made a mistake and He does not make mistakes. Being an American by birth also doesn't imply that I am the reason the people living in third world countries are dying of hunger, struggle to find clean water, suffer from curable diseases. My American citizenship did not and does not cause this.

BUT, I do have privilege over them. I have not struggled as they have and do.
The question I must answer is what will I do with my privilege. I can continue to keep it to myself, live my simple life, or I can use it to better the lives of others. I choose the latter.

White Privilege Does Not Mean I Must Feel Guilty For Being White. I did not choose to have white skin. I have white parents and I was born of them, so I am white. Just like I didn't choose to be born in America, I didn't choose to be born white. I don't have to feel guilty for being white. Doing so would imply that God doesn't have a clue about what He's doing and I don't believe that to be true. I believe that He creates every person in His image and in some wonderful way that my finite mind cannot understand, we're all different on this planet and yet we all reflect God.
BUT because I didn't choose to be white doesn't mean my whiteness hasn't afforded me privilege or that it doesn't come with responsibility.

It comes with responsibility and an Ability to do something, to make a difference. But first I must admit it exists.

Because A Black Boy Calls Me "Mama"

Since the death of Trayvon Martin in 2012, I have written blog post after blog post about race only to delete each one out of fear of the opinions of the people I interact with daily and weekly. I've felt the swell of "something" continue to grow inside of me. I can continue to be quiet and seek to live simply and quietly, but I am the mother of a black boy and that puts me in the middle of the racial divide in this country. I am not black so I do not have firsthand knowledge or understanding of what it means to be black in this country. I only have history lessons, books, friends, and the experiences of black people to enlighten me and help me on my journey of understanding. I've spent the last few years reading what I can, listening, thinking, praying, attending conferences on racial reconciliation and I have arrived at a few thoughts. Know that the lens through which I view the world is a Biblical lens. My worldview is determined by God's Word. I won't elaborate on all the thoughts I've had or the conclusions I've drawn in this blog post, but I do hope to begin dialogue. I do hope that people will become interested and begin to ask questions, begin to seek to understand, too.

1. White Privilege Is Real And Every White Person Has It. In my experience this is one of the more difficult things for white people to admit, accept, acknowledge. I never grew up with the idea that I had privilege over anyone. I was the first person in my family to graduate from a four year college. But I equated privilege with money, material things, and prestige. I had none of that.
As I began to seek to understand the racial divide in this country, I began to understand that the fact that I'm white has afforded me privilege in this country. I have never been profiled or considered a thief or thug, or targeted in anyway by law enforcement or other authorities. College was available to me, even though no one in my family had gone before me. I have traversed an easier road in life just because my skin is white. The authorities have always been on my side and I've never had to fear unjust treatment by them.
Admitting white privilege is not an admission of guilt in the sense that it's my fault Alton Sterling is dead or that I have even personally oppressed black people. It's an admission that I have walked an easier road, though not without its own bumps, than my black brothers and sisters. I have never faced discrimination for the color of my skin. For my gender, yes, for my skin color, no.
Further, my black son will most likely not experience the degree of discrimination or profiling that other black boys will because my son is being raised by white people and somehow that makes him "different." I'm not exaggerating or being dramatic in this. There are people who have commented to me that he's being raised "white". In a sense, he is because he does get to benefit from the white privilege that my husband and I have. This makes me incredibly sad for the mamas and daddies whose sons do not get this. It breaks my heart that my whiteness somehow gives my black son a leg up over his counterparts and thus further proves the existence of white privilege. It should not be so.

2. We Can't Use The Gospel As Our Excuse To Do Nothing. I've often heard from my friends who are willing to acknowledge the race problem in America that the gospel is the fix for it. I wholeheartedly agree that the Gospel is the answer to everything, but often these people use "the gospel is the answer" as an excuse to just do nothing. Saying this about race and the issue of continued segregation, especially in our Christian churches, is like saying the gospel is the answer to the number of unreached people groups in the world, yet never going to those countries to share the gospel with them. Or saying the gospel is the answer to poverty in America, yet we never give to others in need, or saying the gospel is the answer to the orphan problem in the world, yet we never open our pocketbooks or our homes to the orphan. We just stay home in our comfortable lives all the while talking about how the gospel is the answer, but really living out the gospel and changing the way we live and think is how the gospel is the answer.
In order for the gospel to truly be the answer to our race issues in America, we, and by we, I mean white Christians, must extend our arms to our black brothers and sisters and say we want to understand, we are listening, we want to join the fight, we want to help. In order for our churches to look more like the Kingdom of God, we have to set aside our traditions, our cultural preferences, our worship styles, our service styles and embrace each other. Personally, I believe white believers should take the initiative in this, but that's an entirely different blog post.

3. Humans Are Not On A Sliding Value Scale. I can mourn the loss of someone even if that someone was involved in criminal activity when it happened. If my sons drive their car too fast and die, am I not allowed to mourn because they got what they deserved? Absolutely not! Black people are upset! I'm upset! They have a right to be upset. They have a right to demand change. Deciding that the death of someone does not merit mourning because you think that person was doing something they shouldn't have been is like saying we are on a sliding scale of value. If we're doing right things, we are valuable. If we're doing bad things, we are not valuable. First, this is not how God operates. His love is unconditional. He proved it was when He sent His Son to die for our sins while we were STILL sinners. We were doing bad things, had wicked hearts, and He said, "You Are Valuable!"

There are questions that need to be asked and answered. There are deeper issues that need to be addressed and it's time to address them. We can no longer be satisfied with soft answers that ask nothing of us. We must stand firm and strong and demand that our fellow image-bearers, our black brothers and sisters be afforded the same privilege that we receive. We must decry any form of bigotry and mistreatment towards them and call it what it is---sin! We must seek to broaden our friend groups and remove ourselves from our white bubbles.
I have a black boy who calls me "mama" and I don't want to tell him that people will treat him differently than his white brother. I don't want to teach him to keep his hands out of his pockets and to never wear his hood on his head in public. I don't want to! But I have to because if I don't, he would not know that there is danger ahead.

The Value of a Soul

On this Good Friday, as I reflect upon the cross and the crucifixion, I'm left to wonder what is the value of a soul. I learned five and half years ago, when my husband and I lost our baby girl, Ella Grace, that in order to arrive at some place of sanity as I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I had to reconcile what I knew to be true about God with my present circumstances. This is a reality for all of life's journey, I think, not just when we enter our darkest hours. Since that day five and half years ago, I've experienced other things, that before her death, I would have labeled "hard", but since, I've discovered are really just uncomfortable. I know hard things will come again. It is one of our resurrected Savior's promises to us.

The Why's in His Ways
There aren't enough pages or enough time for me to record all that I've learned and continue to learn about who God is and what God does and how HE connects to my circumstances, as every-changing as they are. But one thing I've learned and continue to learn is the value of a soul. Very soon after I learned that my daughter would die, I had an understanding that God had chosen this road for me. There was a stirring in my spirit, if you will, a settling of something that left me with the sense that God was not absent in this. He had chosen it for me. My heart struggled to understand why a loving God would create a little girl just to have her die. I know there is so much of my daughter's short life and her death that I don't understand and may never understand. God's ways are indeed higher than what my mind can understand, but what I do know is that her life and death reveal something about the value of a soul.
Perhaps, He created her to teach me about His grace, which is really more than sufficient for every need I may have. Or perhaps, He created her to teach me about His faithfulness or how He really is close to the brokenhearted. I could name every characteristic of God and tell of how I learned these things to be so very true during her short life. But one of the greatest things I've learned and continue to learn is the value of a soul.
James is no liar when he writes that life is a vapor. As the years tick away, as I watch my sons grow into young boys and then young men, I gain a greater sense of eternity. It is coming...soon. As I continue my life journey, I don't so easily pass people by without considering their soul. Sometimes, as I'm caught up in the workings of my life, as I stand in the grocery check-out, wrangling two boys, wishing for a moment of silence for this introvert's heart, that same stirring I heard during my daughter's early diagnosis, reminds me of the soul that is ringing up my groceries, driving my son's bus, living in the house next to me.

The Value of a Soul

The value of a soul is greater than I can understand, but what I do know is that it was for the souls of men that God sent His Son to be crucified, to die a death He did not deserve, to pay a debt He did not owe. As I consider the cross on this Good Friday, I must reconcile this truth with my circumstances. Christ died a death He did not deserve because the value of my soul was of greater value to Him than His own innocence. What I discover is that, if I'm to be like Christ, I have to value the souls of those with whom I interact daily, momentarily, or sparingly more than I value any of my self-perceived rights or freedoms. I even have to allow wrongs to go un-righted, or show mercy to those who do not deserve mercy. I learned the value of souls when God took away the life of my daughter. I know many would have been touched by a miracle if He had chosen to heal her. We could have told the story to many people. But the story might have grown dim as the minutes turned into hours, the hours into days, the days into years and we would have told the story no more or only sparingly. When she died, the weight of her loss was placed upon my heart. I have carried it everyday since her passing. It is part of who I am, purposefully given to me by a God who is loving, faithful, kind, and true, because if I have it with me everyday, it will not grow dim, nor will I stop telling the story of how God created a little girl to die that I might remember just how near eternity is. That I might never forget just how valuable a soul is. That I might not stop telling, not her story, but HIS story. It has always been His story. Today, as I consider the cross and the crucifixion, on this Good Friday, I consider the value of a soul, of the souls of many who cross my path every day. I must not stop telling because Sunday is coming. Eternity is near. And she lives because He lives.

The Idolatry of Self and How Kanye is a God

Kanye's public antics and seemingly inflated sense of self have long been a subject of mirth and incredulity for me. I've followed his career off and on since he emerged on the scene as a producer for Rock-A-Fella records. I have a love of hip-hop that dates back to the nineties and Kanye is a part of that. No doubt Kanye has contributed an incredible amount to hip hop and rap. He has produced music for some of the greatest.  Jay-Z and Alicia Keyes to name two.

Kanye West is considered one of the greatest rappers of all time. He has won 27 Grammy's, sold millions of albums, yet I woke up this morning to see him begging for money on Twitter. I was left wondering how he got to this point. There's no denying Kanye's contribution to the music industry. But his career and personal life are clouded with controversy. His declaration of himself as a god has long brought him criticism by some and applause by others. 

This morning as I read his many tweets asking anyone and everyone to support his dreams because he's in debt to the tune of $53 million dollars, I wondered at first how it happened. He answered the "how" himself in later tweets. I find it hard sometimes to not be incredibly critical and even condemning of Kanye. How dare he call himself a god or say he's Jesus?

But the truth is we are all guilty of the idolatry of self. I want to be critical of Kanye. I even typed out a sarcastic tweet about him and his begging for more millions, but first I must get the plank out of my own eye before I condemn another.

No, Kanye and I aren't really that different. I don't declare I'm a god---not aloud anyway. But in my heart I feel the tension, I fight the battle daily, sometimes hourly to put away the idol of self. This struggle is evident every time I feel entitled to this or that, I spend more than minutes with wounded feelings over some slight, I put my own plans before the plans my Creator has for me. How often do I think, "I can't do that for God, I'd have to give up this or that?" How often do I feel jealousy when someone else's article is liked more than mine, or worse, when my article gets lots of praise and I think, "I know, I'm a great writer."

The idolatry of self is blinding. We need only look at the life of someone like Kanye who has achieved so much and has contributed even more, yet it has not been enough. I dare say the same is true of me. I may think if I get so many likes or achieve so many things, I'll arrive at some place of contentment or happiness, but the truth is I need only remove the idol of myself and instead focus on the one, true God. Then, I can be content no matter the circumstance, no matter the unrealized dream, or the difficult task. 

Happy Gotcha Day, James Melaku Thurman!

February 13, 2013---The day we got to pick James up from the orphanage. This is his "gotcha" moment. In this moment, he is ours forever. Where we go, he will go. Where we stay, he will stay. He is no longer under the care of the orphanage, even though we are standing in the orphanage. He is no longer under the rule of the Ethiopian government because he belongs to us.

Adoption is not without great loss, great pain.  For me to be this child's mother, a woman is without her son. A father, a grandmother, an aunt, perhaps a sibling. I can never think of this day without thinking of "them". I don't know why they chose to give him up. I will most likely never know, but I do know that God ordained that James Melaku would be our son. Of all the little boys in that orphanage, God chose James' paperwork to the paperwork that was completed, allowing him to be adoptable. God writes our stories. His the author of all life. He does not stop authoring our stories at birth. He continues to write them and He wrote this boy's story.

This is one of the nannies who took care of James while he was at the Tikuret orphanage. He loved her very much; he was greatly attached to her and would cry for her while we were at the orphanage.

He has no memory of her now. I show him these pictures and he understands that it is a picture of him, but she is a stranger to him now.

. 

The Tikuret orphanage where James lived while in Addis Ababa.

Saying good-bye to the orphanage and his nanny.
If you were to measure the time since we left the orphanage in days, 1, 095 days have past since that day. Three years today.

1,095 days of being a little brother, the best helper, the youngest Thurman boy, the baby SOT, a Son of Thunder, a friend to many, loved by so many.

To know him is to know energy, joy, big eyes and an even bigger smile. Three years ago, God chose Melaku and we are forever grateful.
Happy Third Gotcha Day!

Our Posture is Our Response: Why Women Must Speak Up About Women Being Drafted

Our Posture Is Our Response:Why Women Must Speak Up About Women Being Drafted

One Destination Is Reached By Leaving Another

We have not arrived at this new destination by accident or happenstance.  We began this journey many decades ago when women bought the idea that they were being oppressed. In reality, they were being oppressed in many ways. They did not have the right to vote or own property. They were thought of as not as intelligent or not as valuable---all ideas and realities that still exist for many women in other parts of the world today. But two wrongs never make a right. The response was a swinging of the pendulum so far to the extreme that we are now left with the over-sexualization of women, the systemic killing of female babies, the transformation of the woman into a feminine version of a man and now, the proposed threat of our daughters and grand-daughters being drafted into military service.

Perhaps somewhere, we, as women, began to believe that we were being mistreated or belittled or held back. Perhaps we felt the desire to be as good if not better than our counterparts rise up inside of us and we gave in to it instead of resisting it. Perhaps, somewhere along the way, we've allowed what it means to be a Godly woman get distorted and muddled and I think we have. We've allowed an ever-changing culture define who we are instead of the Word of God.

In The Beginning...

In the beginning, God created man and then He created woman. His creation of our lives was not haphazard and without design. David writes in Psalm 139:13-16 of the intricate ways in which God formed him. If we apply this idea to all of creation, and I do, then each of us was created in a unique and intricate way. The creation of woman was not an afterthought on God's part. When God finished His creation, He found it all to be good, and He found man and woman to be very good. Somewhere along the way we've allowed the lie that this secondary creation somehow means women are less important or of less value, as if we've fought all these years to prove that we are what we are already seen as in the eyes of our Father---very good.

But our first error is finding what God sees as very good lacking or not good at all. When God created man and woman, He created them with purpose, a unique purpose. His design is best. Since the first sin in the Garden of Eden and the subsequent curse of woman desiring her husband's place, we have warred against the created order established by the Creator, God. We began from this destination and arrived at the first wave of feminism in the nineteenth century with the second wave hot on its heels.

Many things have transpired since the first rumblings of feminism in this country. Many wars have been fought in this country and the woman's place in the U.S. military has evolved until we have arrived at this place, this destination. But where we go from here is of the utmost importance, most especially to women.

Our Posture Is Our Response

Our posture cannot be one of apathy or disregard. Our posture cannot be one of focusing on a single issue that is at the forefront presently. We cannot just fight against women being drafted, we must fight against women being so transformed and morphed that they no longer resemble God's original design. We, this generation of women, must have a posture of submission to God's created order. 

We must know the truth and understand that we are created of equal value but for different roles. Each role is of great value and seen as very good to our Creator. 

Our posture must be one of submission to God recognizing that being what God created us to be is not a blanket statement saying we aren't as good, we aren't as strong, we aren't as smart. There are jobs that I can do better than a man, that perhaps I'm better qualified for, but does that job help me fulfill my created role is a questions I must always ask. There are jobs that aren't ours for the doing and there are roles that aren't ours for the taking. God's design is always best. And our primary purpose is to glorify Him and enjoy Him forever. We glorify Him when we are obedient to His Word and we enjoy Him when we embrace who He created us to be instead of railing against it.

I am most fulfilled when I am most satisfied with my Creator, with my Lord. I am most dissatisfied when that relationship is out of kilter. We will always battle the desire inside of us to rule over our husbands, to be the boss, but we must take up the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God and we must fight and fight hard. We must fight for ourselves. We must fight for our sons to be allowed to fulfill the role they were created to fulfill. We must fight for our daughters to be who God created them to be in the roles that best help them do that. We must fight, armed with the truth of God's Word and we must so do daily by embracing who we are in Christ. We must fight to arrive at a different destination than the one our culture is propelling us toward.