So here goes…

You are 38 today. Late 30’s. Nearly 40. Honey, you are not young anymore! Only clothes stores get to be Forever 21. And that’s both a good and an important reality. You have lived more than half the years your father did, less than half the years that your Grandmother has lived thus far. Just over a third of the complete years of a special woman named May. I think because your birthday is always in Lent you’ve always wanted reflection, searching for a day rich in meaning and significance. Frankly, it makes you a pain sometimes, but this year there’s lots to share.

Your 30’s have been full of adventure. You’ve emigrated, had two children, written books, preached and led, taught and coached. You’ve travelled all over the US. You’ve lived in 122 F heat, and -37 F cold, with oceans, lakes and mountains for views. There have also been tough times. Remember Seven? Still, you’ve also made new friends, had new experiences and you’ve learned and laughed. A lot. As usual you have changed your hair repeatedly. So as you step in to all that it means to be thirty –late (Thanks Enuma), there are things I’d like you to think about….

 Invest in the next generation.

If you’ll embrace this season, you’re poised to enjoy a stage of life ripe with significance.  There’s a generation looking and longing for people to disciple them.  Take time to prayerfully consider how you’ll invest in the next generation. How will you make room in your life to share what you’ve learned, what you’re still learning – not just about how to know your theology, but what it practically looks like to live theology? It’s one thing to share your story, but discipling people means you invite people to see your story daily unfold before their eyes as you do life together. It can be a vulnerable feeling, because you know you’re not as together as you’d like to be. Still, discipleship is not about being the perfect example of being a Christian. It’s about being a living example of someone seeking to follow Jesus in every area of life. Go for it. Who will you disciple in this season?

Get your kitchen table ready.

You’ll find yourself at the kitchen table again, talking for hours just like you did in your late teens and into your twenties. Sometimes you will talk late into the night. The fun (ny) thing is now you’re the one giving advice, investing in lives. It might be strange to hear the questions you asked Mike and Sally years ago come back to you. When did you become a spiritual mom? The peaks and valleys of life have taught you some things worth sharing, whether you felt it or not. The kitchen table will give you pause; makes you ponder and pray, dig deeper in the word. Let it make you dig into ancient disciplines to carve out space for God. You’ll ask your mentors different questions now… So keep your Bibles in the kitchen, as well as a box of Kleenex and snacks (And when you get the snacks in – you might want to buy grapes. Cos with the whole not- young- anymore thing: Your metabolism isn’t that young anymore either).

Be a ridiculous forgiver.

You know life isn’t fair, but it’s never stopped you wanting justice. That’s not a bad thing when it motivates you to sponsor children in war torn areas, invest in micro financing to ignite the entrepreneurs of the ‘developing world’ but it’s a quality that has its limitations on the issues of the heart. There have been some rough days, months and years. Then there was 2008 which left you gasping.  Sound wounds lingered, diving into the soil of your heart, taking root, and growing into bitter fruit. It’s taste seared your soul.  Only His Grace could heal you… You know that I can’t promise you a painless year; there will be sadness, disappointment, pain. But I offer you some advice worth more than gold: Be a Ridiculous forgiver.  Not just kind, not just generous, but ridiculous one. Let people go, don’t need the last word, tear up every IOU. And forgive. I’m not saying deny the pain, I’m not saying avoid Matthew 18; I’m not saying you should be best friends with everyone who wounds you. And sure, sometimes forgiveness involves a process. But choose the ridiculous – and choose to forgive. Its a choice that sets you free and keeps you free.

Become a gold digger.

Not in the Kanye/Jamie Foxx sense!  You know that in the most erosive times of your past you’ve found that you’ve grown and learned and matured. It’s still true. Mine for the gold she told you… There is gold to be mined from the tough times, but also from the every day. The lessons from married life, from raising kids, from handling money, building friendships, being a Jesus follower in every area of life.  Because He is there. When you were younger, you were in a community of hundreds of young adults where it wasn’t hard to see God move in power on a Sunday night. Jesus is the same, yesterday, today and forever and a world away in the ordinary and mundane He is there. In this very different, very full season of life – keep seeking Him. Ask what He’s doing, listen to what He’s saying. Obey His leading and when His voice isn’t not clear – stay faithful. Mine for gold she said…

Enjoy…

Your life. Be passionate and compassionate. Look after your health, enjoy your relationships. Your hobbies?  Rediscover them and find new ones. Relax. Read a book, watch a movie. Have fun. You’re a visionary woman, who loves change and progress. You even like the angst that motivates transformation. Just remember life is today too. Want the life you have. Choose the life you have.

There is so much h more to say. about marriage, friendship, children, family, about grey hair and life as a grown up Gen Xer… but this is rapidly turning into the longest birthday letter of your life. I’ll have to write to you again sometime. In the meantime enjoy today.

So Happy Birthday! I’d like to tell you it’s a weird thing to wish yourself a happy birthday, except we both know you’ve (we’ve?) done that every year. First time you’ve written yourself a letter though. Well done…

“I just wish there more coming through, but there don’t seem to be any anywhere”

“What’s happening?”

Ever been part of a conversation like this? It’s a conversation that I’ve had with men and women across the US, around Europe, across the generations. It happens over coffee, online, on a conference call, in a hangout and in print. Sometimes the conversation is tinged with angst and longing, sometimes hurt, something incredulity, like something simply doesn’t add up.

It’s not that women in the church have disappeared (at least not yet!). In reality women are shaping and influencing their world in a  broad  range of ways. They’re engaging with the imbalances & injustices of the world, advocating, fundraising, adopting, fostering, making dresses for children who go without, knitting quilts for women in shelters, writing letters to troops and sponsoring children. Some are investing their gifts and talents and as they establish their homes and raise their children. Their gifts are predominantly expressed at the school gate, on the PTA,   with girl scouts and sports teams, in the local neighborhood. It’s a high calling, being salt and light in the local community – world changing in fact. Some women are leading and loving it in the workplace; they’ve been equipped, empowered and their leadership gifts have come alive. It’s an incredible opportunity. Like Esther they’re called for such a time as this, like Joseph and Daniel this is where their ministry unfolds. Other women are realizing their potential as they support others – their bosses, their spouse, their friends, their teams. Its not a subjugation thing, nor a lack of confidence. These women know who they are and where they are called to be, and they thrive.

Perhaps on one level, our definition of leadership and influence has been too narrow, too one dimensional. These stories are different from the ones we often hear; maybe they seem a little ordinary. But in the hands of an extraordinary God, these women do amazing things.  Their stories in all their glorious diversity should be told and heard, seen and valued. They help us see what we can be. They must be invested in and equipped in order to realize their potential in the place God’s already placed them.

Still there is another group of women, different ages, life stages, colors and cultures. Same conversation.

“Where are the women leaders?”

I wish there were more out there…”

“I just wish there more coming through, but there don’t seem to be any anywhere”

“What’s happening?”

Like their sisters they feel called to serve,  but as leaders within the church. To lead churches, to exegete the Scriptures, to lead teams, to preach, to lead worship, to train leaders, to lead prayer movements,  to share strategic insights, to pioneer ministries, plant churches, to pursue missional frontiers. Sometimes it’s like a quiet persistent hum in the background, sometimes its like a raging fire in their bones. There’s a conviction, a passion, a calling.  They’re just not sure what this calling looks like beyond their passions and their dreams…

“Where are the women leaders?”

They’re asking because they can’t be what they can’t see. They’re asking because they need to see whom they could be.  There’s been so much controversy, so much debate, that at times its cut deep into their sense of identity and relationship with God.  They’ve questioned repeatedly whether they are just too proud, just ambitious, not feminine enough. They’ve prayed, wept and  walked away, only to find that  the restless nagging sense of call won’t leave them alone. Oh, they’ve tried to not be called, because that would be so much easier, far less costly.  But they’ve flown away on the wings of the morning, settled on the far side of the sea, dug themselves into the dark shadows  - and He was there. Loving, affirming, but still commissioning. Calling.  And when they’ve dared to respond, dared to whisper yes… they felt alive.

Seeing helps. Seeing the lives of the women of the Scriptures –  Miriam, Deborah, Huldah, Junia, Priscilla, Lydia, Mary, Phoebe, Elizabeth. Hearing their names, understanding their lives helps. Seeing Christian women through the ages helps. The martyrs of the early churches like Perpetua and Felicity.  Leaders in the Celtic Church like Hilda of Whitby. The women through the ages Susanna Wesley, Phoebe Palmer, Catherine Booth, Sojourner Truth, Mother Theresa, Jackie Pullinger.  As mentioned in a previous post, you cannot underestimate the power of what you can’t see. What we see (or don’t see) speaks incredibly loudly about what is possible.  Seeing inspires from afar, seeing ignites possibility.  But I believe that to equip and empower women who sense a call to leadership they’ll need some things that are much, much closer.

They need leaders who can show them how to explore and engage with their call to leadership. Leaders who will assure and reassure them it’s OK to be called, that its more than OK and though it may be difficult at times, it is possible. They need leaders who can show them through the illustration of their lives, through their testimonies, and their presence out there.

They need leaders who can tell them their stories, their whole stories, their successes and failures, their devotional lives. They need leaders who can open their time and hearts and help them understand what it means for God to work on your character. Who can share their stories of stress, suffering and struggle  and also faith, hope and love.

They need to experience leaders who will train them. Who will sharpen their skills, cultivate  their gifts and  give them regular tangible opportunities, walking them through success but also failure. These women need people who will apprentice them. They need leaders who are secure enough to open doors for them to go through, willing to launch these women into a future that might be even greater than their own…Now obviously male leaders can and have trained female leaders. My hope and prayer is that more would, because we need to see healthy teams of men and women who’ve worked out before God how to work alongside one another. We’ve got to commit to the vehicles that help that process.

They also need to be in  community. They need to have an extended family. Because we’re not one dimensional beings whose lives have to revolve around a job or  a task.  We are also friends, sisters, daughters, mothers,aunties, wives. So we need people to do life with, because when your immersed in a community, its easier to be grounded. Its easier to be normal and not take ourselves to seriously. It’s easier to find support and encouragement to keep going. It’s easier to cultivate relationships with people we can confide in or trust to ask the difficult questions.

Can a fresh generation of female leaders come through without it? Are they?

In truth they are – but it’s more difficult, it’s lonelier, and women are not realizing their potential. That’s a challenging enough thought in itself. But let’s think beyond these leaders and think of the places where God’s sending them. Think about the communities and cities, the people groups yet to be transformed by the love of Jesus Christ, yet to see the Light of the Gospel.  What potential lay unrealized there because we’ve not raised up the next generation?

This is not a clarion call for every woman to be a leader, though I hope that every Christian man and woman would have a vision for being salt and light wherever they are, and leading someone to Christ. We’ve all been called to make disciples, all been called to play our role in the Great Commission. But it is a call to those of us who do feel called to leadership, who have wrestled and agonized, who have run away from God’s call or toned things down to be more acceptable – to reengage with the call of God on our lives.

What do you need to see to be all that God’s called you to be?

I’ve been reflecting on the lives of  some early church leaders: Peter, Paul, Philip and his fabulous prophetic daughters. Stephen, Chloe, Epaphras, Priscilla. Aquila. Junia, Sosthenes, Phoebe, Rufus, Lydia, Timothy. A diverse range of men and women, different economic backgrounds, different nationalities, different age group, different gifts. God chose, equipped and anointed them all, along with many others whose names we don’t know.  Its incredible what was achieved in the early years of the movement. The audacious scope of the missionary journeys culminating in new frontiers taken. The churches planted and centers of mission birthed in the vibrant eclectic cities of the day. The way that Ephesus was changed as the gospel  was preached and signs and wonders followed.  The extraordinary miracles that demonstrated that God was In. The. House. Incredible. Their stories remind us that our extraordinary God does amazing things in and through our very ordinary lives.

Those same stories chaIlenge me.

For these leaders, their call was to serve God’s purposes in their day. Paul was an up-and coming-high-flying religious leader when Jesus turned his world upside down and set him on  a path marked by kingdom breakthrough, but also stress, struggle and suffering. For Paul and his contemporaries on The Way, their lives were not their own. There have been times in my life when its been a wonderful encouragement  to reflect on my passions, and discover my gifts, and respond to a sense of personal calling. However, in this moment I look at these leaders and their example refines my  notion of calling. I’m reminded that in every season of life,  its His vision for my life that matters. My gifts don’t entitle me to any position, role or opportunity; my dreams and vision aren’t my rights.  My call is obedience.

When I think of those men and women, I also consider their capacity.

What it must have been like to live through those times, to lead through those times? What must it have been like to share the gospel in the face of opposition, to make disciples in the shadow of persecution? Did they ever wrestle with the desire  or need to be liked and approved of like we may do? I love reading the stories how the believers had everything in common, selling their fields and resources , giving sacrificially for other believer, other churches. But I also wonder what that cost them internally, to not be owned by their money and possessions? I wonder what they had to get past in themselves to live that way. Did possessions and money have the same grip on  their hearts that they so often have on ours? What sacrifices did they have to make to plant churches in their homes, to share a common life? How did it feel for them to allow themselves to be known, for people to see their lives, their relationships, their strengths and their weaknesses? To build a strong missional family? What was it like to invest in new believers from such a vast range of backgrounds, model what it looked like to know and follow Jesus? Did they ever think Hey wait a minute, I’ve not got this figured out yet and I’m leading you? How were they able to invest and time and energy into discipling everyone whilst still having jobs and families and lives? How did that work?

These leaders had (or had learned to develop) capacity. Its no surprise that Paul uses the imagery of a soldier, an athlete, a farmer when describing the life of leadership to his young disciple Timothy. Not just a leader’s devotional life,  but their entire life.  They are all images that speak of capacity. When I think of the soldier, I think of a courageous disciplined servant, with 100% commitment to and perspective on their mission. Ready and equipped to respond immediately to their leader’s direction. The athlete makes me consider the mental and physical fitness required to run and win a race, produced by consistent holistic training. The farmer make me think of hard work, sweat, patience, even boredom, but also a harvest. Then the discipline to sow again.  We need a large capacity for this missional life; mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. For the challenges and opportunities, the demands and the disappointments that all come with leadership.

Like many of us, I’d love to see today’s church in the West especially look more like the early church, at least in its effectiveness. As look at their leaders, I’m considering the price, they paid, an expression of sacrificial love in response to His Sacrificial Love. My prayer is that in view of His Mercy, I too would live in surrender, and grow in my capacity, ready for His call.

This weekend some women from the 3DM Family spoke at Chosen, a conference hosted by Seacoast Church in Charleston, South Carolina.  On Thursday Night, about 1000 women gathered together, ready to meet with God and hang out with one another. The experience did not disappoint.

There were many wonderful things about Chosen.  I loved the natural and comfortable diversity both in the room, and on the main stage.  There were women of different backgrounds and ethnicities sharing from the Bible, sharing from their lives. I loved the collective sound of women’s voices as they worshipped together. Hearts were open and hungry for more of God, and chosen was a safe place for hearts to be made whole and dreams to be born. I also loved the reality check that A21 gave us about human trafficking globally, but here in the US, in our day, on our watch. In response, the sisterhood took a stand, rolled up their sleeves got on their knees and began to wash the world’s feet…  with love and healing.

There were a sprinkling of  great men in room. Members of the production team, the worship band… serving, supporting their sisters. There were also some campus pastors, senior leaders and the senior pastor attending every session,  celebrating all that God was doing,  cheering for all the dreams and visions that God was releasing, encouraging women to be restored and empowered at the foot of the cross.

Alongside the wonderful opportunity to teach and share at Seacoast, it was great to spend a little time with some of my 3dm sisters.  There were car journeys, silly fast food, fun, Starbucks and shopping. At the end of each evening there were conversations.  Just woman to woman. Life on life, truth, faith, hope into the early hours of the morning.

Soon its Sunday lunchtime. I’m back in Torrance, seated in a restaurant with 3 wonderful women from my huddle. These women are leaders; they are the Josephs, or Daniels of our time, living out their call and ministry in the workplace. They’re influencers like Esther, positioned for such a time as this. But even calling gets complicated and tiring. It takes sacrifice and tenacity, because within our calling there’s the rest of life, marriage, kids, finances all with their own demands. These were women used to being there for everyone else, at work and at home. Who would be there for them? We needed to hear each other’s hearts, speak into each other’s lives, help one another carve a path of God filled simplicity through our complex lives.

This weekend reminded me of the sheer power of a sisterhood.  Of relationships that can grow beyond comparisons and competition and surface conversation. The sisterhood are humble enough not just to support one another,  but need one another, learn and be led by one another. They strengthen each other in God, they are a conduit for His healing hands. They share His wisdom, speak his love, comfort and truth.  They make a woman strong.

You need a sisterhood in your life. Fight for them, invest in them, sacrifice for them, make time for them. Open your heart to receive them. Because when you feel weak, worried or weary, your sisters help you carry on.

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.

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…

2011 has been washed away in time. Now its time to say hello!

I thought of all the hellos that have shaped my life. At 18, on the first day at my summer job I shook hands with a girl who loved Prince as much as I did. I didn’t realise that God had given me another sister. At 20, I introduced myself to a couple in a chip shop. She was wearing this jacket that I’d heard him talk about at church. I had no idea that these people would become family, that our friendship would take us around the world.

I sat next to a guy on a plane. He was a part of our church community, but we weren’t friends. We were part of a mission team for a week, so I thought I’d make an effort and say hello. I had no idea how close we’d become, our hearts and lives entwined. I say hello to him every morning. And our babies, our beautiful babies. What a privilege to say hello to each one as they entered the world.  The sweat, the tiredness, and frankly the pain, swallowed up in wonder and gratitude as I greeted the baby in my arms.

There have been many hellos that have shaped my life.

So how will I say hello to 2012? Not every hello opened a door of opportunity. Some opened up  conflict and heartbreak. Others were ignored and rejected. And sometimes the goodbye came way too soon.  So at times my hellos have been suspicious, cynical, distant, subdued, non committal. I’ve called it wisdom  or waiting of course. Its been a rare moment of vulnerability that I’ve had the courage to call it fear or disappointment.

Today at the dawn of a New Year, I’d like my hello to be as open as it used to be. As I used to be. I’m greeting the year with a broad smile and a firm handshake (we don’t do limp). I’m not waiting in the shadows, I’m taking initiative and greeting the year with boldness and light and excitement in my eyes. I’ll let my voice be loud even if my heart shows through. I’ll step into uncertainty if needed, because why not? Ordinary life produces the unexpected, I’m going to engage with it. I will cradle this year with wonder and gratitude, knowing that sometimes even the best things in life  are birthed in sweat and tiredness and pain. I’m saying hello to 2012 with my voice, expressing my choice.

I have no idea how this year will go. I know that hello is just the beginning – it shapes my perspective but doesn’t predict or protect. I’ve learned to entrust those responsibilities into the strong Hand of Another. He rises with healing in his wings, He restores the years that the locusts have eaten. He is the Savior, Covenant partner, King. He hold my hand and leads me forward.

Hello 2012, I’m pleased to meet you.

How will you say hello to 2012?

The Christmas decorations are fading into the background at our house; they feel a bit like clutter. We’ll pack them away tomorrow. The girls gave away their old toys without out a flicker of sentiment (Even Charlie and Lola. Could it be that I actually love their toys more than they do?). They play with their new toys for hours as though these toys are old friends. My hubby is immersed in a new book. Christmas may have 12 days, but for us, this bit looks remarkably like the rest of our lives… Yet amid the Christmas presents, the great meals, the fun times, there’s a bubbling excitement inside of me, almost to be point of giddy. We’re on the cusp of a New Year.

I love New Year’s Eve; I love New Year’s Day.

A New Year has always given me Hope. The past is now the past. Time has led my life to a new beginning, where things could be different. Things would be different.  I would never have to repeat that day, that month, that experience, because I couldn’t ever go back to that exact moment in time. I’d been given another chance, and I was determined to take it. My perspective has been tempered over the years . There are moments I’d love to go back and repeat, final conversations that I’d love to continue. Those memories make me wistful. But the Hope remains.

This year I’m aware of a Hope stealer; something that can pollute a new beginning. I’ve realized that to truly step into all that  2012 has in store, I’ve had to say goodbye to 2011. Yes, the past is in the past, unless you allow it to live on in your heart, unless you relive it in your mind. Yes, you have a new start. Unless the past casts a shadow that transcends time, distorting the beauty of a new day. Sometimes our best intentions for running into the future are tripped up because we run from facing our past. We’ll need to turn face some things in order to say goodbye.

The things we need to say goodbye to aren’t always hurts and wounds. It might be a habit, a comfort zone. They might be good things that we’ve simply outgrown.  How can I walk into the unknown with God whilst seated, no, embedded in the familiar? Time to say goodbye.

I drove to the beach the other day, ready to do business with God. Its funny how, standing on this beautiful beach, looking out onto the vast Pacific Ocean, I still find ways to argue with my Creator, but anyway. The praying began; the wrestle until the surrender. I drew a line in the sand, and the other side of the line waited for me to arrive. I know it sounds formal, and perhaps a little weird. But…I needed to say goodbye. It had to be my voice, expressing my choice. I know the outworking of our decisions can be a process – but what kind of life was I going to choose?

Would I choose bitterness, or would I choose grace? Would I choose hurt or would I choose wholeness? Would I choose comfort or would I choose calling? Would I choose fears or faith? Would my old habits hold me back, even the good ones, or would I let the Lord lead me forward? Is my life open still open to His guidance, His leading? There are many things in life that are much bigger than me, way beyond my control. Yet I do have responsibility for how I respond  to the opportunities and challenges that come my way. And I’d like to keep choosing life in all its fullness. I choose Him.

I stepped over the line, washed my feet in the ocean and said Goodbye to 2011. Walking back to the car there’s this bubbling excitement inside of me, almost to the point of giddy. Hope is back. Because it’s time to say hello to a New Year.

What do you need to say goodbye to as you enter a New Year?

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?

 Samuel took a single rock and set it upright between Mizpah and Shen. He named it “Ebenezer” (Rock of Help), saying, “This marks the place where God helped us.”

1 Samuel 7:12 MSG

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.