Jo Saxton

It was Martin Luther King Day yesterday, a day that has become a special day in our lives in the years since we moved to the US nearly 8 years ago.  Its with a particular poignancy that I reflect on a man and the movement that blazed a humble trail toward racial equality and integration in the US.  They suffered greatly, beatings, verbal abuse, injustice upon injustice, death. I think of our family; shades of ebony, caramel and peachy tan. Warm rich colors that blend and be and belong in our community. Our park blossoms in colors and cultures.  Our school mom prayer meetings are infused with a range of cultures, Korean, Taiwanese, Mexican, me. We walk the streets and play with ease and freedom because men and women of every color fought for  carefree fun-filled afternoons like ours.

This year the person I thought of most was Coretta Scott King. Coretta was the wife of Dr. King, mother of their four children, an accomplished musician and fully engaged civil rights activist before she met and married King. I wondered at the price she paid, the endless sacrifices for the sake of the movement. The demands and the energy this movement required. Yes it would change the course of history, but what did that mean for her in the every day? Threats and the fears for her own family, the responsibility she may have felt  for others? What was  it like to watch her man loved and honored, or vilified and  abused? King’s biographers have written of King’s weaknesses & rumored infidelities. Like so many heroes, Martin Luther King was flawed. What would it have been like for Coretta to walk alongside her man, the hero, her man, so flawed? What did it cost her daily, to walk in forgiveness and love? Then when widowed at only 41, she raised a family and she led a grieving movement forward. She served for the rest of her life.

King wrote of Coretta in his autobiography:

We can only imagine  the depth  with which he wrote behind those words. Sometimes the heroes are the ones in the shadows.

So yesterday and today, I’ve been thinking about Coretta. I couldn’t possibly know her full story or where complex reality meets legendary stories. Still, she’s made me think about the strength that lies within a woman, that well of deep resource that helps a woman endure, the roots that undergird a woman’s life.

I was profoundly moved after spending a few days in Atlanta last week. I landed hearing  amazing testimonies about Passion 2012. I’d soon discover there were many treasures in that city:

A faithful Army who won’t stop fighting.

I was in Atlanta to lead some workshops at the Salvation Army  Reeffect Conference, where the Salvation Army leaders convened to grapple with issues of their day and receive training, and minister on the city streets when even the party people had gone to bed. The Salvation Army has a rich heritage of evangelism and justice marching side by side, of beleivers living as disciples – transforming wherever they were based. On Sunday it was so powerful to see so many uniformed Salvation Army officers walking through the streets of the city. There was no doubt who there were or who they represented. Their every word and action would now be connected with and attributed to the One they represented. May my life be clothed with words and actions that do the same.

Loving thy Neigborhood.

Some friends of mine have moved into a tough part of town, an area long forgotten by many and feared by many more. They’re gathering a missional community who are steadily moving into the neighborhood and loving it back to life in the name of Jesus. They’ve moved in with open hearts, savvy minds and a living call. They’re seeking gospel restoration, not mere gentrification. My friends know their dreams will take years to turn into saplings. They have a simple yet exquisitely beautiful home. The children from the house next door  play on my friend porch and want to read their books . There was something exquisitely beautiful about that too.

Influential Women

I spent hours over breakfast, lunch, dinner, coffee and  car rides with female leaders. There was no archetype; they had different gifts, and skills and passions. It was life giving and inspiring talking with every single one of them. Listening to their ideas, admiring their strategic minds, working through stuff. Processing disappointment. Searching for mentors, seeking out other women to connect with, clinging to their visions and dreams. Seeing their humble determination to pursue God’s call upon their life. Moving.

Sweet Things on Skype.

My beautiful girls. And my love. That is all.

A Missional Movement in (Grace) Midtown

On Sunday night I got to hang out with the awesome crowd at Grace Midtown.  It was surreal because it reminded me so much of St. Thomas’ Church Sheffield back in the day. The Roxy, the early days at Philly… It wasn’t some nostalgic yearning for my twenties. There was something prophetic about them. It was like watching the early days of a missional movement. I can’t wait to see what they get up to in the years to come.

I left Atlanta early Monday morning before the dawn broke through. I felt tired and humbled, in awe of the goodness and greatness of God.

For greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this city…

What do you see when you look at these images?Maybe you see the answer to your political prayers. Or maybe you see the reason for them. You might see a cause, an achievement, a movie? Perhaps you see clothing and skin tones, gender and status.

Or perhaps like me you see women like these and see possibility? The potential to be women who are single, married, mothers, grandmothers, sisters, friends – but also leaders, influencers, culture shapers in their field, communities, their nations? I’m not talking about women who have it all. I don’t see women who have it all. I see women who indicate and illustrate what a woman can be.   We need to see them.

Where I grew up, you didn’t see many women of color leading. We may have been entertainers, athletes (which was great to some degree) but apparently we were not leaders. One friend I met in my 20’s told me that in her youth, she was advised to go into music.  Her teacher seemed unable to comprehend that this beautiful woman of color was not especially musical, not an athlete, but was an academic, an intellectual, blessed with passionate ideas and vision. I was fortunate enough to have teachers who sought to cultivate all that lay within all their pupils – regardless of color, gender or class.

Still, my overriding challenge remained. If I couldn’t see it around me, could I be it? Could a girl like me become what I wanted to be, or was it predetermined by my color, my gender, my circumstance? I sought images, examples who would reveal and remind me that there were options. I watched Oprah because of what she’d achieved. I loved Claire Huxtable in the Cosby Show because even though she was fictional – I knew that art was imitating someone’s life. I longed to see someone whose very existence and example would validate my talents and dreams, my call.

Besides, the voices telling me I was worthless were so loud. The voices whining its not fair debilitated me.The voices saying there’s no point in trying were relentless. The voices saying you’re dark, too dark... Saying a woman shouldn’t be strong, a woman, shouldn’t lead… couldn’t influence. Shouldn’t want to change the world and make it a better place… What? Who in hell was I listening to?

I was also listening to what I saw. It was hard to believe that my sapling sized sense of vocation of potential wasn’t all in my head, a delusion of grandeur when I didn’t see it outside my head all that often. It was lonely at times to think that way… to live that way, lonelier still.

You can’t be what you can’t see says Marian Wright Edelman, Founder & President Children’s Defense Fund.

Missrepresentation (a documentary that I’m waiting to see) talks of how the images and the portrayal of women in today’s media are limiting young women’s perspectives on their leadership potential. As a woman, but also as an aunt, a godmother and a mother of two girls – the trailer alone arrested my attention. I want don’t want the girls in my life to settle for the lies that their worth and value and potential is found in their looks alone. I want them to know that their whole life is worth cultivating. Their gifts, their talents , their minds, their character.

I want them to see other women who are healthy and whole and free. Women whose lives are worth imitating, whether they’re a stay at home mom, a teacher, a president, or activist in the local community.

And whoever they decide to be or whatever they decide to do – let it be because they want to. Because they can see what they can be.

We need to see, to be, women who know that their whole lives are worth cultivating. Our gifts, our talents, our character.

Who or what do you need to see to help you become all  who you’re designed to be?

A few years ago,we gathered in the desert at night with some dear friends. These were relationships forged through years of shared experiences and adventure, years of laughter and life. Now, quite unexpectedly, our lives would go in new directions, onto new adventures.  Before we said goodbye, we met in the desert to worship and we built our own Ebenezer.   We gave thanks for our children, our marriages, our friendships, for the breakthroughs we’d seen, for His provision and protection. For His overarching love, His unrelenting grace, His steadfast faithfulness. With every thanksgiving, a rock was added to the pile. I’m sure our monument looked unimpressive in the morning. But that evening it was a mountain of praise that soared from the depths of our valleys, and pierced the darkness of night.

I love the fact that we give a day to being thankful, to reflect over smiles and laughter, parades and food and fun. I’m thankful for good times with newer friends who’ve become family. I’m grateful for a day to be grateful, because I’m reminded again that the path of my life is littered with rocks, signposted with monuments, countless reasons to be thankful.

There are some seasons in life when its easy to build an Ebenezer. The answered prayers, the dreams that come true, the life that works beyond the way you’d hoped it would. The sun is perpetually shining on your life. In those seasons, I’ve learned to  note the landmarks of God’s faithfulness that line my way. Instead of rushing by, I’ve learned, am still learning to not take them for granted. But to stop and look, even stare. Then place a rock or two on my Ebenezer.

Because I know that there are seasons when the sun isn’t shining. Its just a grey day. Boredom and distractions sedate my passion, dilute my focus, and I drift… Then there are the seasons that are a long dark desperate night. I can just about think, I can definitely feel, but I cannot see.

In those seasons I’ve learned to feel the Rock beneath my feet. I’m reminded that my life rests on One more solid than my wandering mind and divided heart. In the dark, when all I can do I feel my way around, I feel the familiar contours of a Rock that has always been, has never moved, is here and will never leave. There I rest. Or lean. Or cling.

So here at my kitchen table I’ve started counting my blessings tonight. I’ll continue tomorrow, naming them one by one, building an Ebenezer. And when the official day is done, I’ll keep going as a discipline. I’ll keep counting my blessings until that discipline becomes a habit. Until that habit becomes my rhythm. Because that rhythm sets the pace of my heart and my life.

For He has been my Help. And day or night, I will always have a reason to be thankful.

Are you successful?

It  was an ordinary day on Facebook when this picture appeared in my feed and grabbed my attention. Amid the regular rhythms (school run, work, cooking dinner) and the irregular rhythms (Pinterest, new outfit) of my day, this image won’t stop flashing through my mind. If the response to my posting the picture on my Facebook wall is anything to go by, I’m not the only one.

This little image as produced something of a kairos in me, a time standing still moment, presenting an opportunity for God to move in my life:

I thought of the times when I’ve seen  and indeed spiritualized the idea that success is about going from strength to stronger strength, one degree of greatness to another.  I think we’ve often  over invested our hearts and minds in the idea that success is found in fame, popularity, wealth. We’ve overcommitted our energies into producing perfect bodies, perfect homes, perfect marriages, perfect children. We’ve overplayed the view that the most successful church or ministry is the biggest one,  producing conference invites and book deals.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be successful. There’s nothing wrong with wanting healthy strong relationships, a fulfilling career, or wanting healthy strong churches and ministries that change the world for good. Its just that if we think that the way we get there is by soaring in our own strength, or  on our terms… we’ll  soon reach beyond the end of ourselves. Our relationships become strained, our churches, our careers aren’t anymore successful or effective, even though we’ve driven ourselves to work twice as hard.

God has a different way for us.

My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.

(2 Corinthians 12:9 The Message)

There’s something in that squiggly arrow that looks and feels plain wrong, and  misdirected and frustrating… and weak. We’re not doing, being, getting to where where want to be. Yet it appears that when we realise we can’t succeed or make it happen , we might just be on the brink of the success that truly matters.

The twisted arrow  reminds me that we are people on a pilgrimage. The answers aren’t always clear; and yet you find that its how you handle life’s questions, not finding tidy answers that seems to make the difference.  Life is littered with setbacks; and yet we can reflect that times of great pressure has often produced incredible creativity. Its opened up new doors and directions that you would never have discovered if life had gone your way.

Guidance doesn’t guarantee good times and calling doesn’t always mean that you don’t find life and relationships confusing. Yet I wonder if you too have found there was something so powerful in seeking God that produced genuine strength and maturity in you? You felt like you were going in circles,  yet you were completely unaware of the progress being made. You were growing, healing, learning in the silence.

Then there’s the lessons lived and learned in failure that have seared your heart. Whilst you’d rather not experience that kind of humbling again, you’re quietly grateful for the way that failure saved you from much greater pain in later years.

The apostle Paul responds  to God’s reminder of grace by saying

Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.(2 Cor. 12:10 The Message)

So what could this mean for our lives? How do we learn to not only accept the squiggly arrow, but  embrace and engage with a journey to success which encompasses weakness ?

I believe that for many of us, the first step begins with surrender to God. Its impossible to embrace weakness (and so His power), if we are still clinging tightly to our cultural definitions of our  success in our own strength. They are incompatible attitudes.

If we want to be successful in a way that actually matters, then its worth exploring how we surrender our attitudes and our lives to Him. What could it mean to surrender to God, not as an altar call, but as a life? How would it shape how we  handle our money, dreams, passions, strengths, weaknesses, relationships, if they were surrendered to His will, His terms, His influence?

I’ve found these words of John Wesley, (known as the Methodist Covenant prayer) a helpful prayer to return to. I first discovered it growing up in a Methodist Church as part of our annual Covenant Service. I was reintroduced to it years later, as the missionary movement  that emerged from our church in Sheffield, affectionately known as TOM, began. But this prayer is best when its not expressed in my history; but when its prayed and lived as an integral part of my daily life. Perhaps this could be your prayer today?

I am no longer my own but yours. Put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will; put me to doing, put me to suffering; let me be employed for you or laid aside for you, exalted for you or brought low for you; let me be full, let me be empty,let me have all things, let me have nothing; I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal.

Glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, you are mine and I am yours. So be it. Let this covenant now made on earth be fulfilled in heaven. Amen.

My cycling apprenticeship involves 3 disciplers.

First there’s my too-cool- for-preschool girlie. She’s learning too, and she is totally committed. She’s determined, refuses to be underestimated.  So even though she wipes out in the dust and cries twice, it doesn’t steal her enjoyment or her goal. She rides with a broad smile and a giggly laugh, free of inhibition, free of pride, free of the need to look good in the eyes of anyone watching. As far as she is concerned, no one is watching, no one that matters. I want her freedom.

Then there’s my fabulous first grader. She’s decided to stick close by my side, ride where I ride. She’s full of warmth, praise, and encouragement and eager to show her unconditional support. When I  get off the bike, she pats me on the back and whispers in my ear “Good job, Mom.”

Finally there is my husband Chris, an avid mountain biker. He’s been riding  forever. He taught the girls how to ride their bikes, now he’s teaching me. He knows how badly I want to learn and knows what I need to do to get there. He also knows what lies beneath the surface holding me back; the fears, the pride, the pain. He doesn’t waver. He won’t make a truce with my past. He’ll lead me through the pain barrier to the future.

Glancing over my shoulder at my family gave me a fresh glance at what we need to be if we are going to be effective disciplers.  You see, anyone can talk a good game, especially about discipleship. Its another thing  for us to life the life. We can’t lead others to where we haven’t been. A few thoughts came to mind as I wobbled around the park:

We’ll need to keep on the bike, keep our skin in the game. Yes we may have hit the dust a few times, and wept our own tears, after all, that’s life isn’t it? But who are we today? Are we trapped in life’s disappointments or are we on the bike with a smile on our face riding with freedom? The ones are still on the bike, with stories on yesterday as well as yesteryear – those lives are worth watching, lives worth imitating.

If we’re serious about discipleship we need to be willing to be present. Apprenticeship,  discipleship cannot be contained in a matter of hour long  didactic teaching sessions. Discipleship is life on life with people who are willing to be tangible, accessible examples of humbly walking through everyday life with God. It’s where we learn the how of what this Christian life means for our money, our relationships, our values, our gifts and passions, our calling . So people need to see our lives, experience our lives. We also need to stay close enough for people to hear our encouragement and affirmation. It can be hard to live and learn alone, because life and faith were never designed to be lived that way. So if we’re serious about discipleship – then we need to think through ways that people can see and hear our love, and see and experience our love.

Finally disciplers need to be ones who are solid and secure enough to tell it like it is. It can be tough to say the difficult things that people need to hear. And on one level, I think it should be.  Surely the words we say we should be willing to bring under the microscopic lens of our own lives. Maybe bringing a challenge can help us grow in humility and compassion for a brother or a sister in need of God’s loving hand. Still there are times that the challenging conversation though uncomfortable, is absolutely essential to growth and healing. Tempting  though it may be – it’s not worth making a truce with personal comfort, or  with the past when we can have the difficult conversation that brings someone to the foot of the cross where true freedom awaits.

I’m definitely a learner as a disciple, but I’m learning so much as a discipler too.

What lessons have you learned about discipleship recently?

And yes, in the end, I rode my bike.  I rode along the bike path looking at the Pacific Ocean on a sunny SoCal day. It felt just as good as I had imagined. It felt free.

It was the 22nd June 2004 when we arrived in the “concrete jungle where dreams are made” ready for a new missionary adventure. After plans and prayers, dreams and details we’d finally made it to the USA. Standing in Times Square I looked up at the huge billboards with nervous excitement wondering what the future held, wondering what our lives would look like, what it would feel to call this country my home. After a few days in NYC, we boarded a plane and a few hours ( and a lot of turbulence) later, we landed in the desert that would be our home, joining with our missionary tribe.

And now it is seven years and I’m looking back.

The desert was an appropriate landscape for these years.  Our first home in the US was under the vast expanse of the blue Arizona skies. There’s nothing like it and it spoke of vision and opportunity and space above the difficult land. The land itself was arid and dusty and the heat of the sun was relentless. It was tough and in some ways you had to learn to be tough. You had to find water and keep finding water to stay healthy. In the end we knew that life giving water was all we had to share …Then there was a winter, that winter in Minnesota where I learned that other people would bury the people I loved. Where we experienced many other losses.The nights were long and lonely that winter. I remembered that missionaries once travelled to other countries with their belongings in a coffin, expecting to lay down their lives for the gospel. And we laid our lives down again, discovering that with Jesus death is just the beginning.

Yet in every landscape, in every season, under every sky we have seen wonder. The wonder of lives changed, healed bodies, people set free. The wonder of the kindness of strangers, the constancy of our missional family. The wonder of our children, born in the desert who amaze me daily. They are our precious desert flowers, strong and beautiful.  Who says the desert only brings pain? Look again, my friends. I’ve learned  the desert is the place of the God encounter, of worship and surrender. The place where the battles are determined. And in the winter, though the land is deathly silent, God is not asleep and He is watching. So yes I’ve known wonder – the wonder of walking with a God who knows my name and calls my friend. He has washed my dusty, cracked feet. In the coldest, darkest times He is my song that brings warmth in the night.

Seven years. It has been bitter and it has been sweet.We carried losses, we carry victories in our hearts.  We carry scars, we carry memories.

We carry on.

Father’s Day has always been a reflective time for me over the years, a wondering what might have been, thoughts of gratitude for fathering moment from far flung sources, and a smile for the One who has always been. Bittersweet.

This Father’s day was much more sweet than bitter. The worship leader sang The Father’s Song at church. It was the song I walked down the aisle to, my brothers on either side, to marry the man who’d be the father of my children. It was a reminder of redemption and faithfulness.

Today we played in the pool, and read books and sang and ate and played and did nothing.  I watched two girls crawl on and off their father’s lap, secure in his love, enjoying simply being with him and being enjoyed. Sweet redemption indeed.

I recently listened to great podcast where Brad Lomenick from Catalyst interviewed Malcolm Gladwell. Lomenick asked Gladwell if he would add any new observations on success to those he captured in his fantastic book Outliers. Gladwell said that  upon reflection, he wished he’d given more time  and attention to the role adversity plays in shaping successful people. He’d observed that many successful people have often encountered significant struggles in their lives, some for many years. Noting that society often  values advantages in a person’s life, he pondered how disadvantage could actually help a person.  If given the right tools...would a child at school with a huge class of other children, be better prepared for the competitiveness of life and work than a child in the school with the small intimate class sizes, for example…

What are the lessons we can learn through adversity? It might be the struggle of unemployment, a house foreclosure, a broken heart, a failure. It might be through relationships stained by betrayal, or competition. The searing indignity of injustice.  How can these experiences shape us for the good, even make a contribution to our success in life?

I don’t mean that we somehow play a mind game that bad things that happen are good; denial doesn’t help anyone, and delivers stinging payback when it finally breaks down. Nor do I mean a passive “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” view; after all what doesn’t kill might maim you,  paralyze you, torment you  and cast a shadow over your life for years to come.

No I mean if given the right tools, what would become of our lives? What would be adversity’s legacy in our lives –  bitterness out of  defeat or beauty out of ashes?

I can’t get away from the picture  of  the school child in the huge class . The automatic thought is that the class size is too big and so will limit a child’s potential and success. But with the right tools,  perhaps the child is not defined by her environment after all?

Adversity comes to us all, and  naturally we’ d like it to move on as quickly as possible, because surely that’s a sign that life is better. But if we had tools, perhaps under God’s grace we forge a better life. Perhaps the struggles sow seeds that in time produce greater fruitfulness in our lives.

What lessons have you learned in adversity?

What the tools do you use to work your way through?

What seeds have been sown in your life in times of adversity?