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This is a quote I just posted on Facebook and Twitter. It comes from p.151 of my book. What it means haunts me.

With Isis still ravaging the Middle East and scores of uncounted children maimed for declaring their faith, I find myself rooting “Get those guys.” No grace. Put them down. They need to be stopped. The fury of innocents dying in brutal beheadings is beyond our comprehension. And we wonder…Where do these perpetrators come from? Did they grow up dreaming of violence and destruction? Or at some impressionable time in their young lives were they too victims? Captured and brainwashed by the generation before them who were captured and brainwashed and on it goes…. Evil that swirls on the other side of the world while we comfortably hold our children and put them to bed. And it appears no matter how many military dents we make, we can’t stop it. And yet, should we not try? “Get those guys.”

And then I get up on Sunday and go to church. And my heart is conflicted. Where in the world does grace come in? Or is there a point where we say “This is where grace ends?” And if so, where is that point?

And then in the silence we hear from the cross “Never ends.” But….HOW? In the global story we find ourselves in- of unspeakable acts of violence. How do we STOP THIS with grace?

Maybe we should we start smaller. In our individual stories of abuse and divorce and addiction and betrayal and brokenness. Grace. Before little damages create bigger damages which create global damages.

But how does one “do grace” in an often graceless world? No answer. Just a death. Of a Son who gave us resurrection and new life, and with it Grace. Which mysteriously grants us the power to start over each day. Each minute if necessary. And love. In whatever shape or form we can. No matter what we get back.

Because the experience of grace is what breeds it. Grace is given so that it can be lived.

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Last Friday I was on my sixth radio show. It was called “Live the Promise.” http://ift.tt/1qVLFnP This glib beginning makes me sound like a pro, but the truth is, I have never been on the radio before. Until seven weeks ago when Finding Faith in the Dark came out. No one wanted to interview me about “Help I’m a Small Group Leader” or “Studies on the Go in John.” But faith in the dark strikes a nerve that makes people want to talk. Most of my interviews have been taped, so they’ve essentially been conversations I’ve had with the radio host, with anywhere from 1-10,000 people listening in. (Maybe a few more if you count the podcasts). But this one was live. It lasted an hour and people actually called in. The host was lovely; her name was Susie Larson, and she was articulate, perceptive, comforting, and (best of all) a fan of my book. What I wasn’t prepared for was the way my heart was broken as I talked live to real people in pain. I wrote about pain in my book. I’ve been interviewed on pain. But as people called in and shared their stories, I realized how many people are living pain on any given day. These are people you see in the grocery store. In line at the post office. On the elliptical next to you in the gym. You just never know how much pain is inside the person next to you.

I know this because there were a handful of people who were doing their every day stuff in their every day lives until they decided to call in to the show.They all apologized for their tears. And all of them had tears. (Interesting how we feel compelled to apologize when we are sad).

One was waiting for a doctor to call with a possible diagnosis of bone marrow cancer. The other had gone through a divorce, and had several adult children (not to mention her whole life experience) with her ex husband who realized he was gay. A third was single in her forties and trying to be brave and do life alone when all she really wanted was someone to love her. Pain. We prayed and sighed and felt heavy in our hearts and then we closed the show.

Later that same night I spoke at a women’s event at a church where the pastor who planted it recently had an incident that left the church without him. Pain. There were more stories of pain as I stayed after to talk, and it struck me that pretty much everyone around us lives with some form of pain. It just comes in different packages.

We see each other on Facebook and everyone looks thinner, happier, prettier and in a better relationship than they really are so we all assume that everyone else’s life must be better than ours. The truth is, others look at you the same way.

Until we get out from behind our Facebook photos and let people into our hurts and questions. Or write about them in a book and then start to see that underneath happy, pretty, thin, well loved people is always some place of pain.

Because pain is a part of life.

There is a God who knows that. But it takes faith to see His presence when the valley we are in is dark. He knows that valley. He lived it in the form of His son. But pain is never the end of the story. And in some mysterious way, pain helps us grow deeper, love better and live fuller lives, which is more of what God intends for us while we are here.

Tomorrow I have a radio show airing that actually was taped. Not live. No call ins. But I sure do like the title. It’s called “Keep the Faith”.

And that, so often is what we’re called to do.

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I just got back from Universal studios in Orlando. I spent my birthday there with 1800 strangers and one close friend. Here’s a shot of my birthday party And if you’re concerned, here’s a shot of my after birthday party: (Yes that’s a soufflé and yes, it was amazing.)

But in between the speaking and the soufflé, my friend and I had some time at Universal so we decided to go on some rides. I’m proud to say I’m 5$%# years old and I still do rides. (Maybe I just went on some to prove that). But who in the world would have thought the Simpsons would be the most awesome ride at Universal studios? At least it was of the three we went on. And it did have some tough competition with the Transformers. Simpsons won hands down. And here’s the crazy thing about this ride:

You stay in one room and go no where

Your car goes up and down but never actually moves.

The scariest character is a baby

I can’t really explain it. You just have to experience it. The whole ride basically happens inside your mind. It made me realize just what our minds are capable of creating. Yes there was simulation (that’s without the T). Yes there were screens and sounds and jolts. But our minds tricked us into thinking we were experiencing a real ride, rather than a virtual one. Our minds made something out of nothing. And we can do that with other things too. Take fear, for instance. Fears are real, but they often start a lot smaller than they end up. We grow them with our minds. We get help from our circumstances and more help from past experiences and sometimes, like the spies in Numbers 11*, we let our fears take on a life of their own. But how much of fear is really just like a Simpson ride? Everything inside of us is telling us the fear is bigger than it is. And then we face that fear with faith. And we discover it’s not as big as we thought after all . On the Simpson ride, getting on and getting off are the two times when reality is clearly seen. The rest of the experience hinges on the way you see.

Sounds like life.

  *Numbers 11 is the story of the 12 spies who went into Canaan and let their fear hijack their mission.For more on fear and faith, check out Finding Faith in the Dark (http://ift.tt/1iKrPn1

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It’s that time again. Lunches are packed, carpools have begun and it’s the beginning of the year where we mark that next step of growth in our child’s life. (Some of us have a marked up wall in our home to prove it). And whether you’re involved in potty training, packing for college, or any of the multiple rites of passage in between, most of us can say without hesitation that our greatest desire is to see our children grow. So what will that mean for us?

Depending on what stage of parenting we’re in, more than likely it means we’ll have to say a few no’s. Maybe even a tiny bit more than a few. Like the first time they run into the street. Or stumble on the computer to Grand Theft Auto to refine their skills at stealing cars and shooting people. When they get invited to their first keg party with no parents. Or when your daughter gets asked out for her first date by a guy who’s five years older, sports several tattoos, and drives a motorcycle.

Some no’s are easy. Others are more painful. When we know our no will make our child feel we don’t love him, it’s a painful no. We may muster up the strength to stand by it. But we carry our child’s ache.

Perhaps it’s a small window to the way God feels about us.

The longer we go on our faith journey, the more we realize that God allows discomfort for a purpose, and often orchestrates life in a way that is different from what we wanted or planned. Yet when we look back, we see that the “God of the rear view mirror” had more wisdom than we originally thought. Sounds a bit like parenting.

I still remember as a teenager rolling my eyes and thinking how little my mom knew about life. I was surprised how much she learned when I got to college. I grew up. And our son will too. Along the way he may not understand why we say no, or withhold certain things, or do things the way we do. But we’re banking on the perspective he’ll have when he looks back.

As we enter sixth grade in the Short household, I’m terrified to say I’ve already seen a girl’s name written on my “little” boy’s hand, and have officially graduated from kissing him goodbye in the carpool line to kissing him goodbye in the garage before we leave for school. But I’ll take those kisses any way they come.

I’m fully prepared that there may be seasons when there are no kisses. When my husband and I will need to trade the affection he feels for us in the moment, for the growth he’ll experience for his future.

My prayer is that we’ll love him enough to do it. And turn to the way God loves us to show us how.

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He had me at “Nanu Nanu”. And he was brilliant right up to his tragic end. I realize I am a week late weighing in on this very sad death, but sometimes waiting is good. You have a better idea what to say. And what not to. From loveable alien to cross dressing nanny, brilliant therapist to deejay soldier, Robin Williams had more than a brilliant sense of humor. He had depth. And complexity. Which we all know usually comes packaged with pain. We saw that most profoundly in the teacher he played that stirred our souls. But the gift comes with the burden. I won’t comment on his psychology or depression or why suicide is wrong or how God takes away depression if you pray- many have already written on those things which (depending on your frame of reference) you can find something to agree with or get angry about. What I will comment on is how faith can be lost in the dark. Oddly, it can be found there too. The dark carries you where you do not want to go. And you feel desperately alone- maybe not geographically, but emotionally. Spiritually. God feels absent. You feel absent. Sometimes even from yourself. Those are the themes I wrestle with in my book. (http://ift.tt/1iKrPn1) I’m not sure where Robin stood in terms of his faith, but I do believe the line between brilliance and craziness is very thin and brilliant people are often forced to walk that tightrope. Over and over. Maybe he just got tired. Somehow he couldn’t see a way out. The distant knocking of the One who created him got drowned out. And the moment came where he gave up. But God never did. He never does. Such is the mystery of grace. A seminary professor I greatly revered wrote a book that got him into a bit of trouble. The title was “Judas come home all is forgiven.” Evangelical skin crawled. We already decided where Judas was at the end of the story. But not many were prepared to stand up against this professor and say “This is where God’s grace ends.” So the book sold a few copies to feisty seminary students. And quietly went out of print. But time and again the question of what grace covers re-emerges in all kinds of discussions and debates, sometimes taking us away from the pain of the one in the debate. Pain that led him to make a desperate choice. And I don’t really know how to judge it all except to say: Thank you Robin, for the gifts you gave us while you were here. Especially for the word you delivered in Dead Poet’s society that moved us out of our mediocre lives. Whispered in front of a cabinet of faces who had long since died and called out to us Seize the day. I wish you hadn’t left us so intentionally and so soon. Wish we could have heard you- and helped. Grace and peace to you, and all others who have exited the way you did. We long for the world to come where by faith we know Death does not win. John 11:26

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So last week was a big week. My step son came home from his annual two month visit-his-bio-mom-in-Australia trip, my book was released August 5th, and I was on TV for a book interview for the first time. (Ok, it was just a small network in So. Bend, but it was still exciting.) Here’s the link if you’re interested… (the interview starts at 14:07): http://ift.tt/1szqGo6

So what am I doing this week? Heading to the Mountains with my family for a week long retreat.

I realize in the publishing world this may be bad timing. But it’s exactly where my family needs to be. The “real world” of my life is being a step mom and co parent of a precious boy who has to negotiate two worlds in his life. And it’s always a big transition when he gets back. I’ve been hopping on planes and interviewing on phones and burning up social media and it’s time to hunker in and do my biggest job. The job I don’t get paid for, but was graciously given by God to do.

To be the second mother in my little boys life. He needs me right now. 

Let’s be clear, he doesn’t always articulate that now that he’s eleven. Rolled eyes and “can you really be that stupid” looks are coming much more frequently than I would prefer. But last night after a whirlwind week he silently slipped his arms around my waste and snuggled into my shoulder while we were watching a movie.

And I knew next week was exactly what our family needed.

So we are off to Mt Hermon in the Santa Cruz mountains. It’s been a long time since I’ve paid for a conference instead of speaking at one. But we need this. To get away and help our boy get a bigger glimpse of the One who is at work in his story. For my husband and me to be reminded of this truth ourselves. Each of us with our broken road past. And our patched-together-with-grace future. And the boy God gave us to raise.

So books can wait. And busyness can wait. We’ll be fuller and better when we get back.

And in the meantime, if you have read the book and want to review it, I’d love to hear from you on Amazon: http://ift.tt/1iKrPn1

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I am taking liberties with the title of this blog, because I have never actually birthed a baby. And unless God is up for another Sarah type miracle, I don’t plan to. My step son Jordan is God’s perfect gift of a child for me. However on Tuesday August 5th, I WILL be birthing a book. And from what I hear, the experience is quite similar. Of course I did hear it from a male author, so I’m not completely sure how reliable the source was. But I can say it feels like there are some similarities.

First there’s the joy of conception. While a bit different from the physical kind (that’s awkward to even think about), the book kind does have its own delirious ecstasy.  I remember it well when I received my contract.

But then I actually had to write the darn thing.

Like pregnancy, time may fly by for those watching, but for those living it, there are many endless months. Especially getting through those last chapters when you have nothing left in you to push. But push you do. And FINALLY you get it out. You turn it in to your editor. And you celebrate.

And then you discover there’s another year’s worth of labor at the publisher’s before anyone sees what you’ve given birth to. Because instead of one doctor involved, you’ve got a content editor, a production editor, a marketing director, a social media expert, a publicist, and a partridge in a pear… you get the point.

Lots of hands on this baby. And back and forth you go, giving here, taking there, trying not to make too many demands, but realizing at the end of the day it’s YOUR NAME on that book. (All other names are strategically hidden in a long list done in 9 point font so no one can actually see them if things go bad.)

And then- the time comes. The book slips off the press and into your hands. And suddenly the release date is only a few days away. And you are terrified. You know some have already gotten a glimpse of your book because a picture of it is posted on Amazon, (http://ift.tt/1iKrPn1) and you recently got your first review from “Vine” people you’ve never met.  You tell yourself that four stars is pretty good. (“But why not five?” the lame part of you asks)

You realize you better gear up for a whole lot of opinions you may not want to hear, and maybe some you will. It’s out of your hands now– and into the vortex of the Internet. The baby is here and there IS no putting it back. And your name is indelibly attached to this creation, no matter how good or bad it turns out to be.

The thing you notice right away is that you have absolutely no objectivity with it, because you have shaped and reshaped and molded and edited it so much you can’t possibly see it the way others will. So you pray…. that it will be the blessing you intended it to be when you conceived it.

Because this is the miracle you’ve prayed for and labored over and wished into being.

And now all that is left is to watch while God makes it whatever it is meant to be.

  To order (or review) Finding Faith in the Dark, you can do so August 5th at http://ift.tt/1iKrPn1,

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This quote is from Finding Faith in the Dark, which I am tempted to rename Finally Faith in the Dark, because it’s been a year since I turned it in. But I have learned that birthing stories takes time.

Not just the ones we write. The ones we live.

In our current society we have little patience for letting things unfold. It’s all about the instant click, the immediate result, the overnight shipping- which leads to a cliff notes version of life comprised of tweets and postings. But the best stories require simmering. In a sound bite life, there is no time for waiting. Or suffering. Or the richness that happens when you let the story unfold. But God’s stories require time to reach the fullness of what they’re destined to become.

In Finding Faith, I have a chapter on God’s timing, and I open with a tongue-in-cheek commentary of the way God works.

One day a man was trying to outsmart God. He said, “God, is it true that a thousand years are like a second to you?” “Yes, that’s true,” God replied. The man continued, “Well, then, does it follow that a thousand dollars are like a penny?” “I guess so,” God said. The man said, “Then can I have a penny?” And God replied “Sure, just a second.”

I don’t know how it’s been for you, but God and I have never been on the same schedule. And I can count on one hand, if not one finger, the times when He is moving faster than me. Much of my life has been spent in waits that seemed to take too long. Until I look back and see what those waits produced.

The other thing I’ve noticed is the best stories almost always get bad before they get good. But since we don’t have the time, tolerance or (often the) theology for the bad, we try to skip it. Or fake it. Or post the edited version. And we miss out on the texture those difficulties bring.

A good story requires time and pain. That’s true in publishing and in life. You have to let the parts of the story come together. The good, the bad, the ugly, the confusing, and all the un-postable sound bites that eventually get edited and woven together to make the story what it is.

So good stories need to be waited on. And the jewels come from how they are lived.

For more quotes from Finding Faith in the Dark, check this link: http://ift.tt/1nLe0rk

To pre- order Finding Faith in the Dark, go to http://ift.tt/1iKrPn1

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Most of us know what makes life worthwhile usually involves risk. The same is true about faith. Nevertheless, when push comes to shove, most of us lean toward playing it safe. Taking risks is too darn… risky. It’s fun watching other people take risks: http://ift.tt/1jtKOrY But doing it ourselves? There’s just too much at stake. Have you ever thought there might be too much at stake not to?

There seem to be 3 general reasons why we don’t risk. (There may be more, but since I preached on this, three points are all you’re going to get.) The first reason we avoid risk is when we can’t see what’s ahead. Since we never really see what’s coming, this turns out to be all the time. We are always tempted to hold back, play it safe. But believe it or not, there is a Bible verse that says we should do just the opposite. “Cast your bread upon the water… after many days you will find it again. Give portions to seven, yes to eight for you do not know what disasters will fall upon the land.” (If you are confused, it took me a few times reading it before I understood, and I preached on it.) Solomon is essentially saying Because you don’t know what’s going to happen, give as much as you can. Wait, what? Most of us would expect it to say, Because you don’t know what’s going to happen, hold on to what you’ve got. But Solomon says Because you don’t know what the future holds, do what you can today. We may think what we have is not enough. Or we are not where we want to be. (Welcome to life). But we can trust that God has us where we are for a reason- and He wants to use us right where we are. Even if it’s not where we would choose to be.

The second reason we avoid risk is when our circumstances are not lined up. We want assurance before we step out. Moses felt that way too. In Exodus 3, when God told Moses to go rescue the Israelites, Moses wanted a sign from God that he could do it. So God said “This will be your sign–when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship me on this mountain.” Excuse me? I thought signs were supposed to come before you did something, not after. But how then would we get the chance to live by faith? “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1)    Remember Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom? Leap of faith? Come on baby boomers… (and those who heard about it from their parents)… Indy had to step out before the bridge appeared. Perhaps Solomon says it best when he says “Whoever watches the wind will not plant; whoever looks at the clouds will not reap.” (Ecc.11:4) In other words, Keep watching and waiting and you will never move. So MOVE.

But if you’re anything like me, that word “Move” leads to the third- and probably biggest- reason we are afraid to step out. We’re afraid that we might fail. And here’s the thing- we might. But what starts out as failure doesn’t always end as failure. In fact, sometimes the path to success IS failure. Check this out and see how: http://ift.tt/AhGKjW Life is risk. And faith is risk. And personally, I’ve never heard of anyone who got to the end of their life and said “I wish I hadn’t trusted God so much” But I’m willing to bet that Heaven is lined up with people who say the exact opposite.

So what might God be calling you to do? What’s stopping you?

For info on Finding Faith in the Dark (my big risk), check out this link: http://ift.tt/1gYsp26

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Louie Zamperini just died. He was 97 years old. Soon we will all know his name because a film based on his life will be released at the end of this year. (With none other than Angelina Pitt Jolie directing it). But for us Laura Hillenbrand fans, Louie’s name has been etched in our minds for some time. And I can’t think of a better week for his candle to go out. Unbroken was the second book that Hillenbrand released. The first was Seabiscuit. Her books are few. But they are mighty. So mighty that when I got my book contract to write Finding Faith in the Dark, my editor said there is one author you need to read before you start writing. You can guess her name. He wanted me to read Unbroken so I would learn the fine art of telling a story. The fact that my husband, who is not a reader, got up at 5 am every day to read this book should tell you that she is indeed a master. But some of it was the material she was given in Louie’s life.

Each of us is given one life, and we do our best to make it memorable. Louie Zamperini lived three lives, and each chapter was nothing short of heroic. Raised by Italian immigrants, at 19 years old, Louie was the youngest American runner in the 1936 Olympics, held in Germany. He was called “speedy” by Adolph Hitler, who asked to meet him after the race. Zamperini was a prime candidate for stardom in the 1940 Olympic Games. The games were cancelled as World War 2 broke out, and Louie enlisted as a pilot instead. His plane was shot down in a matter of months, and Louie was left stranded on a raft in the Pacific Ocean for 47 days. Battling shark attacks, heat stroke and starvation, finally Louie was rescued. By the Japanese. From that point on, Louie survived the unsurvivable. From a masochistic prison guard who regularly beat him just short of death, to weeks spent in starvation and isolation, Louie somehow outlived all of his friends. He was reported “killed in action” to his wife and family.

Eventually (and shockingly) he made his way home.

After a rough transition into normal life, Louie had a brush with Billy Graham, and lived his third chapter as a person of faith. One suspects by looking at his life that God held him long before that. Universal Studios released this statement about Zamperini, shortly after his death: “Confronting challenges that would cause most of us to surrender, Louie persevered and prevailed; and he spent the better part of his life sharing the message that you could do the same. His example of grace, dignity and resilience inspired all of us lucky enough to know him, and the millions who got to know him from the pages of Laura’s book.” http://ift.tt/1rnURB2

For those who have suffered and feel forgotten, Louie’s life is an example of what God can do when we persevere in our faith. His story inspired me as I wrote about others who suffered and persevered in my upcoming book.

So thank you Louie, for a life well lived. Our country was blessed to have you in it. And your life helped make our country what it is.

  For more info on my upcoming book, Finding Faith in the Dark, check out my author page: http://ift.tt/1nLe0rk To view a 3 minute video interview on the book, follow this link: http://ift.tt/1gYsp26

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A couple of years ago Time magazine ran an article on “attachment parenting” which had a cover shot of a mom dressed in workout clothes, breastfeeding her three-year-old boy. Going for the shock value, Time succeeded, and I’m pretty sure it led to a few discussions around the watercooler concerning the “right” time to wean a child. From my own point of view, it seems the more articulately a child can ask for a breast, the more likely it is time for the mother to withhold it. (The whole teeth thing is another conversation altogether.) Nevertheless, no matter what we believe about the right time to wean a child, I personally have never witnessed an adult breastfeeding. I am hoping you haven’t either. So I conclude that at one time or another, we have all been withheld from something we want by someone who loves us.

In Finding Faith in the Dark, I offer the possibility that this may be one way to understand how it works with God. When we feel that God is withholding, pulling back, or staying silent, we are tempted to cry out, “You don’t love me!”, when in fact, just the opposite may be true.

I can remember during a dark time of my life, lying on my bed looking at the ceiling, and whispering a halfhearted prayer. “Why have you done this to me?” I felt abandoned, uncared for, and alone. It never occurred to me to think about what God might be feeling.

When a mother withholds something from her child, it pains her when her child believes she doesn’t love him. Nevertheless because she does love her child, her greatest desire is for him to grow. So she is willing to deny her child and sacrifice his temporary affection for the growth he’ll experience for his future.

Could this be a microcosm of how God feels about us?

Author Philip Yancey says there are three questions we struggle with when we feel God’s distance and need him to be close. The questions are: Why is God hidden? Why is God silent? Why is God unfair? At the root of our doubts, usually one of these three questions lurks.

Because God desires to wean our faith, we are sometimes permitted to live in these questions for months and years at a time. Some handle it by embracing a lukewarm faith, relegating God to the category of Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. You don’t want to give him up altogether, but you no longer expect anything from him. However, you still visit him on holidays and in times of need. Others divorce him altogether. And then there is a third choice, which leads to the weaning of our faith. It’s the willingness to live in the disappointment and silence, waiting to see how God shows up. It may not happen the way we think it should or want it to. But it may be our first glimpse of the God who truly is.

This is the God who watched his beloved Son cry out “My God My God why have you forsaken me?” That cry was met with silence. And Jesus’ response to that silence became his prayer. “Yet not my will but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) Jesus accepted God’s no so the world could experience God’s yes. Could he have done this partly so we would follow his lead?

With so many pointing to answered prayer as a sign of God’s favor, it may seem strange to say that unanswered prayer could be a sign of greater favor still. Yet the evidence is there. Sometimes God withholds what we want so He can give us what others’ need. And we are the better for it. Our lives become bigger than just us.

And as we grow into the faith God dreams for us to have, instead of standing on a stepping stool grasping for our own milk, we are able to go to the fridge, and pour some for others. And I can only imagine what wells up in God’s heart when we do that.

To view a 3 minute clip about Finding Faith in the Dark, follow this link: http://ift.tt/1gYsp26 To stay updated on the release of Finding Faith in the Dark, visit my author page http://ift.tt/1nLe0rk

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I got some news last week. Zondervan told me that the license for my book (which comes out August 5th) was bought by a publishing company to translate it into another language. Immediately the wheels started turning… could it be Spanish? Maybe French? I had visions of a Parisian book tour (accompanied by croissants, soufflés and lazy walks by the Seine) already running through my head. But I was interrupted in my thoughts when I saw the language my book was going to be in. Portuguese. Portuguese? Up until last week, the only connection I had with that language was the movie “Rio” which (if you don’t have children) was a film about a couple of Brazilian birds, a pack of crazy monkeys and some weird looking dogs. It was cute. But the movie was in English. Then, this last week, something happened that changed everything. The US soccer team pulled out a World Cup victory against Ghana that suddenly put Brazil front and center on EVERYONE’s map. (not to mention their Twitter feed, Facebook posts and You tube links)./http://ift.tt/1qZYREN Now Portuguese is EXACTLY the language I want my book to be in.                                             I find this to be a parable of the way God works. Bad news can sometimes turn to good news when we allow the passage of time. We have to let the story unfold. If your mind is anything like mine (God help you), I tend to interpret an event immediately after it happens. I draw my conclusions about it and move on. But life has taught me that those conclusions often need to be redrawn with time. What’s bad can sometimes turn out to be good. And what we thought was good can turn out to be not what we wanted at all.

In Finding Faith in the Dark, I reference a Chinese fable about a man and a horse in my chapter called “The Middle of the Story”. Here’s how the fable goes:

 There was an old man who had a beautiful horse. This horse was not only his family’s pride and joy; it was also a means to an income for the family. One day, the horse ran away. Fellow villagers visited the old man to offer their condolences for such a stroke of bad luck. “It could be good; it could be bad. Who can tell?” replied the old man. “It is as it is. My horse is gone.” Perplexed at the man’s nonchalance, the villagers went about their business. A few days later, the horse returned with a pack of twelve wild horses in tow. Again the villagers gathered, this time to offer their congratulations at such a stroke of good luck. Now he had twelve more horses with which to make twelve times the income! “What a godsend!” they said. “It could be good; it could be bad. Who can tell?” replied the old man again. “All I see is that twelve more horses have appeared.” The next week, while breaking in one of the wild horses, the old man’s son fell and broke both of his legs. “What bad luck!” the villagers exclaimed. “Your son has broken both of his legs. That’s terrible. How will you get your work done? You are too old to do it yourself.” “It could be good; it could be bad: Who can tell?” the old man answered in his predictable and frustrating way. “My son has broken his legs. That is all I know.” Shortly thereafter, the government forcibly removed all the able-bodied men from the village, as the country had gone to war. The old man’s son, however, was spared since his legs were broken. The wisdom of the man’s words was clearly visible — as what seemed to be bad was, of course, very good. Only time could tell.

On that note, I am off to Paris Rio to sell my book. But not till next year. Until then, you can find the book (in English) on Amazon in 6 weeks: http://ift.tt/1iKrPn1

And I’d LOVE it if you stay posted by liking my Facebook Author Page (how’s that for subtlety?) and spreading the word: http://ift.tt/1oKzkCx You will find a quote on there from my book that pairs very nicely with this blog.

http://ift.tt/UtQyXy

Looking up at the news during my workout this morning, I saw a ticker tape flash across the screen that froze my gaze. …with this week’s latest shooting, that makes 74 school shootings since Sandy Hook… Let that sink in a little. Something is happening to our kids. Whether it’s gun control or video games, broken homes or social media, I think we can all agree with our president’s words this morning: This is unacceptable. http://ift.tt/1oQWjrd So what can we do? As parents, we need to figure out our part. Then have the courage to do our part. (Even if “everyone else is playing shooting games and has a cell phone and a computer in their room you are the ONLY PARENT who is doing this”) Finally, we need to pray for (and trust) that God is in charge of our children’s lives. They say it takes a village, but most of us have parts of our children’s “village” that’s out of our control. And this makes discerning our part (and Gods part) even more important.

Our eleven year old just left for his annual two month trek to Australia, where he goes each Summer to visit his mom. We skyped him a week after he got there, and an image of a strange boy with a three inch front Mohawk bearing a slight resemblance to our son came up on the screen. “Can we please speak to Jordan?“(We thought but did not say). Instead we made it through the conversation with comments like “Oh your hair!  Wow. Huh, look at that!” and other fillers while we inwardly wondered where the boy was who left. Then we took a deep breath and prayed and realized he was still there. His hairstyle is merely a symbol of the values he is navigating as he comes to find his own. As parents, our greatest challenge is raising a child whose exposed to two different views, two different values, two different parenting styles, and for now, two different heads of hair. But looking at “74 school shootings” it appears your child (even if there are no other parents involved) is probably doing the same. We can pour into our children, and pray for our children, but ultimately we can’t protect them from all that will beg their influence. But there is a God who will navigate that with them. And we can solicit the help of others who will mentor our children toward that end.

Ultimately there will be one set of values our child will adopt. But he may have to go through a few other values to get there. And hair in the grand scheme of things, is the least important. (She says, mourning those golden locks). What IS important for us is how we love and guide and pray for the boy under that hair, whose navigating his way between two worlds. And how much we trust that the big picture is ultimately in Gods hands. And therein lies the secret. We are in charge of the small. God is in charge of the big. And no matter how bad things may look, we don’t always see the big picture of what God is doing. That’s not just true about parenting. It’s true about life. I recently told a story at a conference I was speaking at that illustrated this truth:

During the last months of World War II, the British conducted daily bombing raids over Berlin. One night, after a successful bombing raid, as the bombers were heading back to England, when they were attacked by a large group of German fighter planes. One bomber found itself flying alone with no protection, and at the same time a German fighter plane appeared out of nowhere. The crew watched as the German plane moved closer and closer, until it was in shooting range.  Five bullets bullets slammed into the plane in the location of the gas tank. The crew braced itself for an explosion, but miraculously, nothing happened. They saw fuel pouring from the holes the bullets made, but they were able to fly back to their base and get safely off the plane. After they had landed one of the mechanics handed the bullets to the pilots and they carefully opened each shell, and to their amazement found them empty, except for one. Inside that shell they found a note wrapped into a tiny wad which read, “We are Polish POW’s –forced to make bullets in factory. When guards do not look we do not fill with powder. Is not much, but is best we can do.”

When tragedies occur like the recent school shooting, so many of us ask: “Where in the world was God? It may take some time to pull back and see Him… perhaps in the bullets that weren’t fired, the comfort people gave, the faith that will rise out of brokenness. But loss will always be part of the story. However we can take notes from the Polish POWs, and the cross of Jesus Christ, that things may look one way for a time, but end up to be something else altogether.

And in the meantime, we keep doing our small part– and trusting the big picture into God’s hands.

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Everyone who is even slightly acquainted with me knows that if I had to choose one kind of food to eat for the rest of my life, it would be bread. (And if I was allowed, I’d throw in a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar.) I try to believe it’s very spiritual, since it’s the only food group mentioned in the Last Supper. And it’s what churches all over the world eat to remember the Body of Christ. But the truth is, my love for bread is much bigger than a piece of a Communion cracker or a nibble of crusty bread. It is responsible for at least half the calories that equip me for the gym.

So today, I am happy to finish off the Lord’s Prayer beginning with the food I love.  You may want to drop back here and read last weeks entry to get the full impact of where we are going: http://ift.tt/1kmcmib Because we pick up the prayer half way through– with a line about my favorite food.

“Give us this day our daily bread” For the record, if I was writing this prayer, I would have preferred it to say “Give us this day our yearly bread”. As a first born planner, that would have been a much more comfortable prayer for me. But Jesus includes THIS DAY and DAILY on purpose to emphasize the fact that we are only invited to ask for what we need today. This isn’t a prayer for tomorrow’s bread. Or for more bread than we need. Shucks. Furthermore, when we begin with “Give us” rather than “Give me,” it uncomfortably nudges us to consider if we might actually be part of the answer to this prayer. Could my extra bread for tomorrow be the bread someone else needs today? (She meekly writes). Implicit in that consideration is whether or not I can actually trust that tomorrow’s bread will be re-supplied. This line beckons us to live in the present. God lives there, and apparently He wants us to be there with Him. He is after all, the great I AM. So He doesn’t want to give us right now what we need for tomorrow. He’ll give us that when we need it. He wants us rest in what we are given for today. Forgive us our Debts as we forgive our debtors Let’s be clear that Jesus is not saying “Lord forgive us the way we have forgiven our debtors” as if our forgiveness is the well to draw from. Instead He’s telling us to draw from his well. A paraphrase might be: “Lord as we experience your forgiveness, let it spill over in the way we treat others.” It’s the experience of grace that inspires us to extend grace. Some of us live (and forgive) as if grace runs on a point system “If you do this, you get this”, but as the prodigal discovered, that’s just not how God works. God’s love is free for the taking, kept only from those who keep themselves away. So this line says because it comes that way to us, it has to go that way through us. Lead us not into temptation At first glance this line puzzles us, as if we are pleading with God not to lead us into temptation. But John Stott helps us by giving a loose translation of what Jesus is actually praying: “Lead is not into perils too great for us to bear.” We all know temptation is permitted by God, because he does not take away our freedom of choice. So this is a prayer of stewardship- asking God to help us make good choices with the freedom we have. Good things like food and wine and sex become temptations when we give them too much weight in our lives. We move from enjoying them, to needing them, which means we are asking more of them than they are designed to give. So we ask God to help us keep things in perspective- and not use them to fill a hole that only He can fill. “Deliver us from evil” is what we pray when a temptation is pursued to the point of destruction. Temptation is the co-worker who looks better than your spouse; Evil is the suffering your family endures as you pursue that co-worker, leaving them behind. Temptation is the internet sex site you stumble upon; Evil is the sex addiction that gulps you up as you return to that site- again and again. There is a line between temptation and evil. The first still includes your freedom; the other takes your freedom away. That is why evil needs to be battled by a force greater than us. So here’s the big question after my last two blogs…What would the Lord’s prayer look like if we prayed it with words we understood? Perhaps something like this: Father of all, who sees more than we can see You are God, and we are not. May your presence be with us, so we want what you desire. Make the stage here like it is in Heaven. Give us only what we need today- so we will trust you tomorrow Help us draw from your forgiveness so we can extend forgiveness to others Guide us through temptation And rescue us from evil. For yours is the kingdom, and the power and the glory Amen

Little did I understand the power of this memorized prayer. Now if I could move from praying it, to living it.

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Permit me to indulge in a little of my faith history.

I grew up in the Serbian Orthodox church, which means a rich heritage of “religious traditions” (aka big parties) that involved massive amounts of eating, drinking and kissing. The kissing included big wet ones delivered by distant aunts, as well as man-to-man ones that had a tendency to shock newcomers. The first man kiss my husband ever received was from a Serbian named Mischa; it was repeated three times and accompanied by an abundance of facial hair. (Now he knows how I feel when he doesn’t shave).

The church we grew up in had stained glass windows, clouds of incense, hardly any English, and an open bar in the reception hall. As a child I observed that a few of the adults always left the service early, and only later understood why.

When I was baptized as a baby, my mom thought the priest might have tipped a few before the service began, because I was in that holy water for quite a while. When I came up I looked like a fish gasping for air, with big bulging eyes and a look on my face that was only slightly less panicked than my mom’s. (I secretly wonder if getting drenched in all that holy water had an effect on the path I ultimately chose).

Somewhere in the midst of this semi-religious (yet meaningful) upbringing, there was one prayer I memorized, and took with me the rest of my life. I didn’t learn the prayer in Serbian, however I did memorize it in the King James version, which should count for something. To this day I have a hard time reciting it without saying my “thees” and “thous.”

It’s a prayer that is recited in church services, funerals, weddings, and bedtime rituals– often by people who are half asleep or half aware of what they are actually saying. But this week I preached on it. (If you are interested, here’s the link:  http://ift.tt/1onYbbF) Working my way through the words of this prayer made me realize that if we take the time to understand it, we may think twice before we pray it. Because The Lord’s prayer is dangerous. It calls us to a bigger life.

The prayer begins with “Our Father in Heaven” and we become aware right away that this is not MY God I am praying to, but Ours. He is the God of the child who sleeps comfortably in my home, and the God of the girls who were kidnapped in Nigeria. He is the God of people who live in Santa Barbara, and the God of people who live in Port Au Prince. He is the God of my friends who have their health, and the God of my friends who have cancer. He is Our God- and His eyes are on us all. His care for others helps me understand what His dreams are for me.

When we say “Hallowed be your name”  we are acknowledging there is Someone we bow to who is greater than us. A paraphrase might be: “You are God, and I am not.” This is a good reminder on the days when we feel we are the center of the universe. All it takes is a diagnosis, a catastrophe or tragic loss to cause us to realize how not the center of the universe we really are. The world does not revolve around us. It revolves around Someone a lot bigger than us. Someone far more capable of being at the helm.

Your kingdom Come- scholars agree that this is not a specific territory you are praying for, but God’s presence in whatever territory you are in. “Bring your presence into this place” is what you are praying here- which likely means you are the one called to bring God’s presence into where you are. Be ready to be it before you pray for it.

And then we get to the line that stops me in my tracks.

“Your will be done.”

This just might be the scariest line in the whole prayer- and I can’t think of a more perfect line to pause on as we celebrate Memorial Day weekend. The time set apart to honor our soldiers who have given their lives for our country- who daily obey their commanding officers with these very words.

Most of us live “Your kingdom come, My will be done”, but saying this prayer as it is written invites the Great Editor to adjust your will to match His. “Your will be done” means I am acknowledging  that there is a bigger story going on than just me- and I am submitting my story to be part of it.  It means trusting that if God alters my plan, He’s doing it is because of all the things He wants to do through me. And in me. Our circumstances produce our character. And I’ve noticed that it’s not usually the good ones that do the trick. So we are only half way through the Lord’s prayer. And we haven’t even gotten to the request part yet. But I’m going to stop, because there are some big thoughts here. and I don’t know about you, but I need to pause and think about them.

I’ll do the second half in another blog.

In the meantime, I want to take some time to think about how many times I’ve gone through the motions of this prayer, said my thee’s and thou’s, and had no idea what I was actually saying.

I need to see if I can pray even the first half of this prayer.

And mean it.

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It happened last weekend. My husband and our eleven year old boy had “the talk.” You know, the S-E-X one. It was the perfect timing, because I was away speaking and they had a couple days all to themselves. And with the help of some CDs by Dr. Dobson, our boy knows a lot more now than when I left. Some may think eleven is little premature to have “the talk”, however given the latest stats for when a child first views pornography(accidentally or otherwise), we decided we’d rather err on “a little too early” than “a little too late.” (http://ift.tt/1mv5b6D )  It didn’t hurt that the table was set a month ago when our boy came into the kitchen and announced that he was going through puberty. Since we had never actually said that word, we knew we better batten down the hatches and get on board. Turns out some peach fuzz was appearing, and he was certain a beard and a voice change was not far behind. (Have I said lately how much I love that boy?) So we took this little sound bite as our cue and started planning. We thought it would be better to hear it from us before he saw it on one of his friends’ cell phones (God forbid). This is the culture we live in. And like it or not, we better enter it before it devours our kids.

So now he knows. Everything. At least as much as 4 CD’s could pack in that pre-adolescent brain. I asked my husband if they lit up a cigarette after they listened to CD #4. Since there are no cigarettes in our household, they just sat in thoughtful silence instead. The one question my boy did have after his induction into manhood was whether rubbing his arm would give him that feeling the CD talked about. After all at his age, one body part is just like any other. (Can we just stop the clock for a while longer?)

No we can’t. This gorgeous specimen of a boy (completely unprejudiced opinion) is rapidly turning into a gorgeous specimen of a man. But girls, take note: You will have to go through me to get to him.

In the meantime, I am enjoying the last few weeks of cuddles and kisses, knowing that full blown adolescence, complete with it’s temporary yet agonizing distance, is not far off. And I am so glad that for now “CD #4″ is something  “he doesn’t even want to even think about until he’s married.” (a direct quote from a conversation in our car). I am praying he bucks the culture and stays with this eleven year old decision.

At least he knows now what a huge decision it is. Babies are made, hearts are bonded (or broken), and bigger things happen than our culture tells us when two people come together in this God given way. For that reason, my husband and I decided to share this personal soundbite in our parenting process.

It’s never too late to have this conversation with your kids. And it’s probably not too early.

http://ift.tt/1imJB2O

Last week I wrote about it. This week I decided to let you see it with your own eyes. If you missed what I posted last week, you may want to follow this link: http://ift.tt/QFhHo9 But to get the full impact of the story, you probably need to go there with me. And thanks to the videographer who accompanied our trip, you can actually go there with me. The only difference is how much time it will take you to get there. You are going to see in three and a half minutes what took me three plane flights and a boat ride to get to: Not to mention fifteen years to live.

So grab a cup of coffee, follow the link below, and enjoy.

This is one blog you don’t have to read.

http://ift.tt/1imJBj7