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Sometimes I wonder what this Easter-eve was like for Jesus' disciples. But, then I think the text doesn't need to spell it out for us- we already know. We all know the pain and confusion of when God's plans don't unfold in the simple and tidy way we imagined them. We know the strange numbness of grief when it seems as though time has stood still. And also the disorienting feeling of needing to carry on with life. They prepared spices and ointments- the only way they knew to show honor to their Jesus. And they rested on the Sabbath. It was the only thing they knew to do. What do we do when we find ourself in the still and quiet grief of Saturday- when the impossible has happened, and we don't see how God could possibly work this out for His glory and our good? We honor Jesus. We worship. We rest in Him. And we get ready for Him to do a new thing.  The new thing might not be tomorrow. Or next year. Or ten years from now. But we are the resurrection people. We have alr...

Thoughts from my car as I run errands. (Don’t worry. I’m parked.) Ladies, there’s been something on my mind for a long long time that has been simmering. It bubbles up in me every time I get an email from Christian book companies. Every time my work mailbox has yet another flyer about yet another new Bible study or yet another simulcast with the current Christian celebrity. Every time someone te lls me that they just “want to get their book into the hands of the women of our church.” (In other words- they want me as a women’s ministry director to use my influence to sell their book.) We are a huge market. We, Christian women who want to follow God, are the source of BIG MONEY. Books. Bible studies. Simulcasts. Conferences. Yet another study Bible edition with pretty flowers on the cover. I wonder how many millions of dollars get spent every year on these things. They aren’t bad things. God has used particular Bible studies and conferences to deeply impact certain points of my life....

Wandering through the science museum I catch my reflection. I’m surrounded by spinning spheres and flashing lights and sound experiments and I remember the mirror reflection of this exact week last year. In this exact place. Evidently we have a predictable pattern just like this mirror on the wall. I stood in this spot and talked to our social worker. I told her we were angry. Frustrated. Feelin g used. Baby Bear had been moved from our home with less than 2 hours notice the week before- I fought for that 2 hours. Bear’s worker had wanted to come in 30 minutes. I remember pacing through this dizzying place telling our worker how tired we were of this pattern of feeling used and overlooked by the county. OUR biological children were vulnerable too. OUR children were accumulating trauma and loss from the county’s repeated disregard. And I wanted to be done. Looking in this reflection I think of how broken and used my heart felt. And now I think of the story God is weaving one year la...