Brandon

Brandon took us to a carnival he used to go to when he was a kid. There was a little kid about seven or eight in front of us. The carnival ride operator wouldn’t let him get on without an adult. I offered to ride with him. He told me no and told the kid to go find an adult to ride with him. I started to follow the boy and then turned back. I kept watching him walk and walk and not an adult in sight. Dang it. I should have grabbed him and rode with.

The guy was rambling on and on about how these parents don’t take care of their kids.

“with human trafficking and people’s kids getting stolen, serves them parents right for not taking care of them.”

I was biting my tongue. I knew he was rambling about nothing he really cared about. Part of me wanted to punch him and part of me wanted to jump off the ride and find that little boy.

“Brandon, did you ever come here like that when you were a kid?”

“yeah”

“That little?”

“yeah”

“Brandon what did you do?”

“I just got on rides like that little boy. Then I’d walk towards the river and watch the fireworks behind Meuellers”

“By yourself?”

“yeah”

“My heart can’t handle that. You won’t ever ride a ride alone again.’

Pull it together, Christi, you are at a carnival and trying not to cry.

Anything. I read that book last year. I blogged about it. It’s been the simple word I have uttered in the last year when I don’t understand what is happening or why God is allowing it to.

My best Anything is 17 years old. He’s the scariest Anything I’ve prayed about and the best Anything I could ask for.

A year ago my oldest daughter, Lauren, said she had a boyfried. She was 14 and couldn’t date, but she wanted to hang out with him which meant Youth Group, school events, and Church. I needed to know more about him.

He’s 17 (ouch a little old). Homeschooled (thinking he probably has strict awesome parents too ;). He’s in Foster Care. I just hung there for a moment. You did too. I’ll come back to that.

We picked Brandon up for youth group. At the time I was helping there and  I could monitor the situation.  He lives down the road with my old high school teacher on a sheep farm.

First thing I noticed was Brandon was shy, but extremely polite.

I watched him every week at youth group. I watched his eyes never leave the youth pastor when he spoke. One Wednesday Lauren was sick and couldn’t go. I told her to tell Brandon she wasn’t going.

He still wanted to come with me. He didn’t care that it was just him and I.

I asked him everything and told he didn’t have to answer anything. He did.

We let Lauren invite him over for dinner one night. “Mom, he’s nervous. He’s never eaten dinner at a table like a family.”

Then he started coming to Church on Sundays. Same thing, eyes never left the pastor. He showed up at our house an hour before we had to leave. He was excited. He decided to follow Jesus not long after that. Then the bomb dropped. I live in small town America and have a lot of people that love me and care about us. They thought we should know.

“Brandon was that boy that ran away with that girl in the news last summer.”

“Brandon got kicked out of school, that’s why he’s home schooled.”

“You need to be careful and protect Lauren.”

“You know he has ran with a rough crowd where drugs and alcohol have been around.”

I think the room spun out of control. I remember getting in my car with tears running down my face. I had grown to love this kid, but was I setting Lauren up for failure. I drove and drove. I prayed and prayed.

“God I need to know now whether to shut this door or keep walking. Anything, Lord. I am praying Anything.”

Peace. I just had peace. Keep walking. We are going to keep walking. That means some voices were going to have to be listened to and loved, but we were going to keep walking with Brandon.

I had nothing guiding me, but this pull in my heart.

One night someone asked Barney if he knew Brandon had a “past”. Barney said, “anything Brandon did before Jesus doesn’t matter to me.”

Amen.

Wednesdays and Sundays became weekends until bedtime and now every day. If Brandon is not here, we are all asking where he’s at.

Brandon has the keys to our truck. I can sign a check and he can go to the grocery store and get gas with it. Brandon’s in. He’s one of us. If you asked me how many kids I have, I answer five. I just ask Lauren to not hold his hand because that looks weird after I say that.

I wasn’t looking for Brandon and he wasn’t looking for us. We happened. It’s a beautiful collide.

I get a lot messages from people from that have known Brandon. They share with me how sweet of a boy he was. How they always knew with the right people Brandon would do well. I know they mean well.

Brandon made us better. Brandon made us slow down and enjoy the little things like eating dinner as a family. Brandon made us realize what we truly had.

 

Brandon added peace to this house. Brandon brought us together as a family. Instead of noses in the phones and electronics, they were playing cards in the living room, he takes the girls to the pool, they go shoot baskets at the park, they play the board games that collected dust, and they miss him when they leave.

Sometimes after those messages, I cry. I get angry. I wonder how in the world a kid like Brandon just bounced from place to place. I wondered why nobody grabbed that incredibly sweet kid and latched onto him. I realize it doesn’t matter. Our paths were headed down the path to cross and I am thankful for all the people that recognize the purpose that he has.  I I thank God, because he landed here with us. So, really I am selfish because I wouldn’t really want to share him anyway.

I asked Brandon one day why he was always so polite. He told me that in “the system” you learn to be nice so you are treated well.

I am thankful that God’s system doesn’t work that way, because he finds us, deep in the mess we are in and He loves us.

While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us- Romans 5:8  

That night we went to Good Friday service at church and they were asking for people to share. I felt like I should but didn’t want to be in the front. I walked up to Brandon and asked him to go with me.

I introduced us and told them how we met. I shared that Brandon told me he needed to be good to be treated well in the “system”. As we sat there on Good Friday, the symbolic night Jesus laid down his life for us,  I was reminded in our lives that his death brings us together as family. Our blood, our papers, our family doesn’t qualify us. We become family because of His great Love. We don’t have to prove ourselves to belong, we just need to believe in the One that calls us to belong.

When I cried last year that I would do Anything as I finished that book by Jennie Allen, I had no idea what that would look like.

I had no idea that one night Brandon would call me and tell me that he had to call the cops at the park because some guy strung out on drugs would pull a knife on his friends kid over eight dollars. Brandon got my girls into a car and called police.

When I got there it was dark around 9:00. Several kids were standing in the parking lot. As Brandon finished filling out the police report, four young boys came up to tell us what they saw. There wasn’t an adult around for any of them. All of their faces were little Brandon’s and my heart broke.

I prayed, “God how many Brandon’s are out there, because my heart cannot handle it?"

The next day at the pool, one boy came up to Brandon and asked him why he had to call the cops on his friend’s dad.

Brandon said, “because my little sisters were traumatized.”

Little sisters. My heart melted.

Brandon and I say we were brought together for a purpose. We know it’s bigger than family dinners and hanging out. I know there are a lot of kids out there waiting to belong unconditionally. I know my ears burn and my anger flares when I hear a kid being called a “foster”. I used to use those words, but I want you to know Brandon.  I want people to want to know their names and their stories. I want us to be less scared and more opened in our hearts, homes, and lives.

When I prayed Anything, I wanted it to be a clean job description. It’s not. God calls us to come walk with him. He then adds people to the path. He wants us to trust him.

I wrestled a lot. I told God this makes me look like a hypocrite. He knows we signed our rights away. He knows the depth of failure and heartache we have felt at not watching a little girl grow up. The condemnation was like an arrow piercing my heart. I know where it comes from, but some days it’s hard to shut out.

One Sunday, our pastor read Joel 2:25-26 “I will repay you for the years the locust ate..you will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my  people be shamed.

He was saying that to us and to Brandon. Because Brandon walked into our lives at 17 and I have learned it’s never too late. As we pray for his family, we pray also for the brokenness in our own.

It wasn’t the ideal year. I wasn’t ready, I lost my job, had lots of medical issues, personal issues, family issues, and church issues and God still said, Now. Sometimes God’s interruptions are the glue that holds it all together.

 Today we celebrated his 18th Birthday. He will be 18 this week. I wish he was only eight.

 

For the Love

A few years ago I went to Women of Faith in Kansas City. I remember seeing this lady on stage that didn’t seem like she fit the “mold” I was used to at WOF. Then, I heard her speak. It was tearing down the barrier between us and them and really reaching people for Jesus. I had tears rolling down my face. Her message was what I needed to hear. I hadn’t heard of her before. During the break I went to check out her book. I grabbed the book Seven. The lady behind the table said she was coming up to sign and I could jump in line to meet her and be one of the first. I said, “it’s ok, I don’t really know who she is.” Then I thought, what the heck and jumped in line.

Jen Hatmaker was so nice and genuine.

 

I read that book and then ordered her other book  Interrupted. I realized there’s a lot more people that are like me out there than I thought. I am weird but not as weird as I struggled with. I don’t want to be a pretty church ornament. I just want to be messy about his business. It doesn’t always look like clean buildings and organized Sunday School rooms. It doesn’t mean you have to volunteer for everything at the church either. Sometimes we just need to be the church. It might be the only church people ever see. (I am not saying don’t volunteer or be involved in your church)

Seems in every story I read in the Bible it looked messy to those looking in, but God always had a plan.

So, back in March I registered to be on her launch team with 5000 other Jen Hatmaker fans. It was a shot in the dark. Then after a particularly rough week I got an email that I made it in the “500” to be on her launch team. I got her book the day before I left for Nicaragua. It was my plane read. I laughed, I cried, I fist pumped, I cried and laughed some more.

It’s about fighting for grace in a world with impossible standards. Right out of the gate she says take some things off the beam. It’s ok. You know what? I hate being a room mom. I did it. I hated it. I can supply some snacks. The end. I’ll put my energy in things I am good at. Trying to get twenty-eight kids to throw Cheetos at a shaving cream head while cringing about the mess we just made for the janitor ain’t it.

I really enjoyed the turning 40 chapter. I am quickly approaching that time in my life. I am actually looking forward to it and she makes forty sound appealing. I am ok with mom hands and a few wrinkles. I am ready to love on the younger generation and tell them it will be ok. My friend, Janet, did that for me. My friends with kids in college and married daughters they breathe life into me. They give me hope that this all comes out in the wash when we keep our eyes focused on Him. I am ready to keep running this relay while handing batons off to the next mom of littles and saying, “you are gonna make it and you will like these people you made, they’ll tie their own shoes and you can read a book at the pool.”

I made it through Chapters one and two with some fist pumps and misty eyes and Chapter three let those tears fall. “If it isn’t also true for a poor single Christian mom in Haiti, it isn’t true.” There isn’t a status or place we enter that says we’ve arrived whether we are single or married, poor or rich, because God’s calling us to reach people. God just wants us to be faithful with what we have whether it’s thousands or mites, but really he said Go into all the world and make disciples.

Chapter 5 – Leggings aren’t pants and no one wants to see you nether parts. Manpri’s are a don’t.  Barney doesn’t have to worry that they’ll be under the tree for him this Christmas.

Ahhh.. It was sooo good to laugh after a cry.

Chapter Six – We can run our race, ladies. It’s ok to be good at things. It’s ok to have gifts and talents and use them. Hiding them does no good and it’s not arrogant to use them. Jesus gave us a lane. Run.

After I fist pumped and got excited I was in for more laughing. She talks about commercialism and the need to buy the next wonder thing. This makes me laugh as one who has done that. Tonight I sit drinking my apple cider vinegar water and ignore the ten thousand commercials and social media posts about the next energy boost. I’ve done that. I’ve bought the miracle cream and awesome hair stuff and I still look the same. Not buying.

The truth sets us free. It really does. I held a secret for over a decade that nearly destroyed everything and the moment I let it be truth I was free. I said it out loud in a room full of scary Christian women that at any time can label or judge me, but I am free. Because of my freedom my inbox is full of women saying it empowered them to be honest, to let the power of their testimony be a shout out to the one that makes it powerful, Jesus.

Jen says, “With every I am here, and I’ve been there and You aren’t alone and God has this, your scary truth gets less terrifying, less overwhelming, less paralyzing. It becomes fully exposed with no secrets left to threaten you.”

 We get to be 2 Corinthians 4 because darkness presses us but it cannot crush us. Amen.

Again, she lets us catch our breath after the heavy stuff because Chapter 8 is thank you notes. Like, Thank you maxi skirts for basically being crotchless yoga pants. You must read this book if just for the Thank You Notes! My thank you note would be:

Thank you Just Go Girl for ensuring I can burpee, squat jump, and do jumping jacks while wearing a diaper strip capable of holding ½ cup of liquid after having four small children tarzan their way out of my body. However, they make bear crawls appear that I Fooped. I hate bear crawls, anyway.

 

 

That leads right into being a Spicy Family. We are spicy. We are not quiet or sweet or reserved. I’ve tried and nearly combusted. If you’ve seen me on social media, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. There’s no secrets here and no shame. You ask me and I’ll answer because I don’t want sister Susie at school giving you false information. When my kid comes home in fourth grade and says, “so if I want to have a baby, I just need someone to reach up there and crack my eggs” we first calm Barney down because he’s yelling about worrying about your own stuff before letting someone touch it and I am  trying to out yell him to calm him down while making throat cutting gestures like a mime. Poor kid didn’t know what was going on, but yes, one day I’ll explain how to crack those eggs.

You get to laugh and you get to cry and then you get to say Amen. I won’t break down every chapter but I am telling you, you need to read this.

One of my favorite chapters is “Dear Christians, Please Stop Being Crappy”. Ok,  your version says lame. I liked crappy.

I love social media and the power of it. I do. I love seeing kids rescued and people helped. I love seeing old friends and connecting with new ones. What makes my heart hurt is how fast we will jump on something to show everyone what we are against. We tear each other down. We tear unbelievers apart before ever inviting them in.  The Gospel is good news folks. It’s good news. It’s Grace wrapped in flesh meeting the woman at the well, stopping the stoning of the adulteress woman, it’s eating lunch at the sinner’s house, it’s setting captives free. It’s good news people. Jesus died for sins. Come on. There’s a better way. They need to know us by our love. Loving sinners isn’t condoning sin. It doesn’t give a pass to atrocities happening every day to innocent victims. His kindness brings us to repentance. It’s Him, not your picket signs. We can meet them where they are. We have a  Gospel of beautiful examples.

Please stop being resounding gongs. We love  1 Corinthians 13 for weddings but not for everyday life, not for the people closest to us that are capable of ripping our hearts out, not for those living a life we don’t condone. People complained that Jesus hung out with sinners, was a glutton, a friend of tax collector’s and sinners (Matthew 11:19). I guess if being a friend of sinners was good for Jesus, it must be good for me.  

I saw how mean Christians can be to our own when they fall this summer. It was like a horrific train wreck that went on for hours on social media. We can do better church. I believe in us.

I have never had someone come to church with me because I said, “hey, you are a sinner, and you need to come.” I said, “I was a wreck, a mess, and Jesus found me, You want to come, friend?”

That’s a whole blog in and of itself. Go get the book. In September I am going to do a book club. There’s recipes we can cook together.  There's  more chapters and honest things we need to look at to really grow community, to grow with each other. There's laughter to be had and tears to be shed. There's conversations and friendships ready to be built as we tear down walls and masks.  
 
 

 

 

In a few weeks I am headed to Jen’s house for the launch party. Since March I’ve been in a community of people on facebook that have not just catapulted a book into #1 but loved each other through some really tough dark times, rejoiced in some pretty amazing days, and laughed together while being scattered across the world. I am going to meet some of these ladies in person, thank them for the beautiful community they created, and pray that somehow right here in my little neck of the woods we can create a community that says For the Love of Jesus, I am walking with you.

 Go Get it! Comment on this blog and I am picking one lucky winner next week to get a book from me.

Have I Wasted All This Time

I wrote this poem (at the bottom) eight years ago when I really thought life was falling apart. We were very close to our pastor and his family. They were our family. We loved them. The church is no longer here and they don’t live close anymore. It was heart wrenching. It was also in the midst of a massive financial crisis. Everything we owned decided to fall apart. The ceiling collapsed from broken pipes during a -17 degree night. If one car was running the other was not. If Molly didn’t have pneumonia it was coming.  

I found myself wondering if I had not heard God right. Was I supposed to be there? Why was I so naïve and dumb to not see the fall sooner.

Eight years later, I sit in a similar place. I’ve sat under the teaching of a man I greatly admired and respected. I believed in the “even unto death” sermons. I hung on every word of the “set the captives free” sermons. I worked out twice a week in his boot camp class. I was part of his “we can build a wheelchair in under five minutes” team in Nicaragua this summer where we all felt close like a family. I loved his passion to get wheelchairs third world countries because “no one should have to crawl”. I became a Big Sister in the Big Brothers Big Sister program because he told us the plight of the community with fatherlessness, broken homes, and drugs. I wanted to do my part. I believed like he said that churches are “made of circles and not rows”. I wanted to love people like he said because “the cross plus anything is nothing.” The recent, “don’t get distracted” message hit home. I had been utterly distracted and my heart was not in a good place. I was struggling.

He said, “people rarely just walk away from the faith the devil gets you out in to the weeds”. My kids took notes and Brandon got saved under his teaching. My friends started coming and inviting their family. I shared his sermons on my facebook page for all of my friends and so many said they looked forward to that each week. They weren’t getting that kind of teaching. I went to baptisms where so many people said they stumbled in to this church and God grabbed a hold of them. My good friend, Rachel, said “its like God keeps drawing me back.”

He walked away from his church, his family, and said he hasn’t even believed for the last two years. He has a new relationship.

Sucker punched. In the gut. A whole church reeling and in shock.

I have been here before. It hurts terribly. If it hurts this bad for us, the families affected are feeling it even deeper.

I was cleaning out my dresser and I found this poem. It’s when I thought we were losing everything, when I was told I was out of God’s blessing and he couldn’t hear me, when I begged him to just take my life, when every day was a struggle to get dressed, and little kids were at my feet.

I thought of Peter and the disciples. Heartbreak is not new to us as Christians. Disappointment is not foreign. Doubt and embarrassment is not a new concept.

I told my kids as they cried all the way home from church, Haley so broken she said, “but I l earned so much from him”, God’s word does not return void. Fallen teachers and pastors can’t cancel God’s word because of sin. Even the best of us fall down. God used a donkey to speak. He says the rocks will cry out.

The disciples listened as Jesus said he was going to be killed. Peter was going to bravely defend him, even cutting off an ear of a soldier. Yet he died anyway. It’s not what they had planned. It’s not how it was supposed to end.

I have been there, when the world comes crashing down. I am left standing there screaming “Have I wasted all this time?”

No. He gives us the years the locusts eat. He builds from our ruins. He gives beauty for our ashes.

Today, so many of my friends are staring at the bare tree, in a pile of rubble, holding onto the ashes asking God, “Have I wasted all this time? Will my life go back the same? Am I part of some God forsaken game?”

No, friends. It’s not how the story ends. We will, like Seth said, Hold Fast to the promises because He is Faithful.

He makes crooked paths straight. We win. We make it. We are being cheered on by a great cloud of witnesses that know our pain, know our struggle, and they say “keep running, friends”. It’s worth it.

We are not alone. Like our friends in the book of Nehemiah, we have to build now. We will work shoulder to shoulder, young to old, neighbor to neighbor.

We can rebuild this place and each other. Our broken pieces make the beautiful stained glass windows the world looks through.

 

Have I Wasted All This Time

What have I been doing? What did this all mean?

Can’t you fight back these men and set yourself free?

You healed the sick, voiced the mute, and lifted up the lame.

You brought hope and beauty to lives engulfed in shame.

You displayed your power and left this world in awe

Open up your mouth, Jesus, and bring this crowd down, show them who you are!

It’s not too late. I see another breath.

Get down from there and end this crazy mess.

I tried to watch, but hid, as they laid you in a tomb

I am hurt angry, Jesus, and so madly confused.

I have been walking through these hills replaying all you said, but I watched them tear your body down and lay you with the dead.

 

Have I wasted all this time? Will my life go back the same? Am I part of some God forsaken game?

Can you hear me? Where are you now? God, I know that you are out there, but I don’t understand.

Give me one more moment, to look upon your face, I never meant to hurt you or bring you my disgrace.

I’d change it all right now, I would take it all back. I need you, Jesus. God, can you bring him back?

I see the holes where they nailed your hands and feet. I hear your voice so steady and so sweet.

My heart is yearning, Lord, for one moment alone.

I failed you, My Lord, I didn’t say a word.

When they asked me if knew you I heard the rooster crow. You said it would, I know.

Finding my new normal, I head out to catch my fish

On the shore you are standing, is my mind playing tricks?

Give me one last chance Jesus, I am swimming to the shore.

I want to make this right, I’ve never loved another more.

You did this for me. It’s not what I had planned.

You were planted like a seed to set a whole world free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Good Father

I love to go anywhere. I love to see new places. If there’s a training or an event, I am there.

In September tickets went on sale for the IF Gathering in Austin. I was hoping to get a ticket for my friend, Becky. They are living between Texas and Kansas and I thought it would be fun to road trip together. Before I got online I prayed that if God really wanted me to go, I would get a ticket. I did. It sold out in fifteen minutes before I could Becky a ticket. I sat on the ticket praying for the last few months.

I prayed that if it was his will he would open the doors and if it wasn’t every door would shut.

My first prayers:

If you want me to go, help me find someone to ride twelve hours with. Help me to find very cheap lodging so I don’t have to spend much money and if I am supposed to go let Barney be okay with it.

I posted in the facebook group a month before and asked if anyone was driving from Kansas. I met Jessica, who lives in Hutchinson and we decided to ride together. She has a baby the needed to go with us. Becky said I could stay with her sister in Austin, but Jessica thought logistics would be better if I stayed at her great uncles with her. I told Barney and he said I should go. Ok, God. Maybe I am supposed to go.

All of those prayers were answered, but I still wasn’t sure if he really wanted me to go. Because I am immature I asked some more.

My second set of prayers. These were very detailed. If I am supposed to go:

Have mom just offer her car, with amazing gas mileage, so I know you want me to go.

It’s a really long drive and I had to work that day. I prayed that there would be a way to break up the drive so I wouldn’t be so tired.

Super Bowl Sunday, a week before we were leaving, my mom told me to drive her car so I could save on gas mileage. Ok, lord. I think it’s supposed to happen, but I really want to be sure.

Jessica messaged me that we would stay in Oklahoma City with her sister-in-law Thursday night and drive into Texas early Friday morning. That meant I only had to drive six hours after work and six hours the next day. I was incredibly thankful.

But it wasn’t enough. I got really detailed.

The Monday before we left I prayed that if I was really supposed to go that Jennie Allen herself would comment or favorite one of my IF Gathering  posts on social media. I know that is really immature. I just wanted to be ‘double extra for sure’.

I went out to dinner that night with my Little Sister from the Big Brothers Big Sisters program and when I got home there was a question posted in the IF Gathering facebook group about what we are expecting from the week. I posted that I was not sure I was supposed to go but so far God was answering all of my “But this” prayers and opening every door.

Jennie Allen tagged me and said, “Christi Gibson Miller maybe you are really supposed to be here.”

Shut up.

 I cried. I got down on my knees and put my head in my chair and cried.

Ok, Lord. You opened every door. There must be something really big you want me to learn, something you want me to hear.

“Whether you turn to the left or to the right, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, This is the way; walk in it. Isaiah 30:21

I got to Jessica’s at sevinish and we left. I needed to get gas in my mom’s car. It’s a diesel. The first gas station didn’t have diesel. We drove down the road and pulled and finally found a gas station with diesel.

Jessica had a card for that station with fifty cents off a gallon. Score!

We drove around the street and onto the ramp and the car died. It wouldn’t budge. I tried restarting and it wouldn’t turn over. I called my dad. He told me to hit the road side assistance button. I told the guy what happened. He said they could tow my car. 

Dad told me to call him back when I heard.

It was all moving really fast. My insides were shaking.

Lord, I thought you told me to come. I thought you said this was the way.

I finally called the gas station.

“Hi, I just got diesel on pump one and now my car is acting up.”

Umm, ma’am that was not diesel. You just put E85 gas in that car. Go ahead and gasp.

“Jessica, I need to step outside to make a phone call.”

Shaking with a lump in my throat and tears stinging my eyes, I called my dad.

“Dad, I put E85 gas in your car. I thought it said Stop This Is Diesel like the other pumps do and it said Stop This Is Not Diesel. I screw everything up and always cost you thousands.”

He kept telling me it would all work out. My mom was in the background and she just wanted us off the highway and safe.

Standing on the ramp in Wichita in the freezing cold in February, I wanted to throw up. Tears were burning my eyes and this friend, I just met, was sitting in the car with her six month old baby.

“Lord, didn’t you say I was supposed to come. Lord, didn’t you open every door. Lord, I don’t know what to do”.

We sat on that ramp for an hour. The tow truck came and Jessica’s husband graciously drove us to Oklahoma City and his sister drove him back. We took Jessica’s van. Every one of her family members I met, I felt the need to reassure them I am not an idiot.

I think we do that when we mess up. We’ve sent this message of do’s and don’ts to the world they think that’s what we are about, when it’s really grace. Hang around me long enough and you’ll know I need a lot of it. When I do mess up big, I feel the need to explain to everyone and really, only one opinion really matters.

 My heart was sick. We had a full day of travel the next day and it was not going as planned. I felt like a failure.

I ruined my mom’s car with a little over six thousand miles on it. She’s had it three months.

I didn’t want to go anymore. I put on a good face. My mind and heart were racing. One was praying the other one was worrying.  

I couldn’t believe it.

 I stupidly googled it. One site said it would cost a couple hundred dollars with a flush. Another site said it could cost up to eight thousand dollars if the motor was ruined.

I was in the balance of a couple hundred dollars and several thousand.

We had great conversations, but my heart was constantly pleading, “Please, Lord. Come on I need to know.”

My dad text me just thirty minutes before we got to Austin and to our conference.

“The car will be ready Monday morning. I will put you up in a hotel Sunday night and VW will come pick you up. It’s all going to be ok.”

My mom text me to tell me it would only be $235, not thousands.

We found our parking place and made our way in. We were finally in Austin.

The speakers were amazing. The heart to equip women where they are is exciting.  It is what I crave. I took notes and more notes.  I feel like we are finally getting past the need to be perfect and on to creating sisters among women.

That Friday night they sang a song I had never heard before, Good Good Father.

I lost it. Tears.

I have a Good Good Father.  My dad would not let me pay for that car. He paid for my room. He was more worried about my arrival than the mistakes that I made.

I broke the car. I thought I was double checking but I was putting in the wrong gas. My dad lessened the impact. He put me up in a hotel and made sure it was a good part of town.

I thought God was sending me to Austin so I could learn some mind shattering information from these ladies. I did, but I learned it on the side of the road, in the cold, when I put the wrong gas in the car.

I am never too far from Him. I am never too far for Him to make some calls and brace my fall.

He doesn’t berate me when I call on him in the midst of failure. I can search for him in amazing moments, but he will speak to me in the hard moments. Jesus paid for my sins. He prepares a place for me. He looks at me redeemed and not of my faults though they are many and frequent.

They love me anyway. ( Even though I cost a great deal to love)

We made it back to Wichita late Sunday night. I was scheduled to leave as soon as the part came in on Monday. Check out was at noon. I packed my bags and worked from the lobby. I was thankful for the lesson and thankful for the weekend. Jessica was the best twelve hour road trip stranger I could have met. Her Great Uncles was a gracious host in his beautiful home, but  I was ready to be home.

My mom called me at 1:00 and the part hadn’t come in. I was going to have to stay in Wichita for another night alone. I just wanted to go home. Tears ran down my face as I tried to book another room. I was embarrassed, but I just wanted to go home.

I worked out. Went to my room and ordered healthy Chinese for two. I was scared, ok? I didn’t want anyone to know I was alone.

I started to turn on the TV. I am a closet Real Housewives fan and they had Bravo. I had this nudge in my spirit to shut the TV off and read my Bible but I thought maybe I was just tired.

We have had enough lessons. Right, Lord?

My phone rang. It was Karen, my friend, I used to go to church with her. I loved our conversations about the Bible. She would be a Faith sister if there ever was one.  I have seen her at her job but we really haven’t talked in years.

“Christi, I couldn’t go home until I called you. I am driving from Kansas City to St. Joe and God has you heavy on my heart, girl.  I just want you to know that whatever you are going through God loves you. He cares about you. I had to call you.

I couldn’t speak. I just cried.

What are you doing, Lord?

I shut the TV off. I found that song Good Good Father on iTunes and played it on repeat for two hours. I got on my knees on the hotel floor and just prayed.

I was sure God wanted me there for a reason. I made small talk at breakfast trying to find “The One” he had me there for.

Nothing.  I was sure there would be someone he would place in my path that I could encourage.

It was time to check out. Volkswagen called and they were sending a driver.  They told me he was eighty-four and wasn’t in a hurry so I didn’t need to rush. I saw him pull up and fumble with his phone trying to call. I hurried out the door to save him the hassle.

We had five minutes in the car. If you know me, you know I rambled that story in ten seconds because I think everyone wants to know my business.

He said, “You just hit my hotspot. You see, I am pastor and my dad was a pastor. I think God just wanted you to rest. He had some things to say to you”.

 I told him about my friend, Karen, and crying on the floor, putting the wrong gas in the car, how God showed me in the midst of my mistakes he was a Good Good Father. How I had been so burnt out on church and church things. How I craved real community. 

I have written three blogs just pouring my heart out to God. All of my years of church piled together. My words helping me to work through the pain and lay it all on his lap. Church is family and family is messy and can be painful. I wanted so badly to love the church again. I am not talking about my current church but the church as a whole. (Just clarifying because I don't want to answer seven messages from people wanting to know the scoop.)

“You know Jesus wept. You know Jesus got away to be with God and just pray. He got angry about things. Rest is good, Christi, and sometimes he just wants to remind us who he is.”

He shared several verses with me. He blessed me.

In five minutes with Floyd Smith, I know why I had gone to Austin.

Sometimes I think I have to be in the midst of the “special” things going on. Sometimes I am waiting for some big wig to tell me my calling. Sometimes I am waiting for the earthquake and for the fire like Elijah. Sometimes I think I have something “to do”.

Sometimes God speaks in a still small voice in a van on the way to pick up the mistake you made.

He really is a Good Good Father.  

I Am Overwhelmed By You

I haven’t written in months.

Not sure I had anything good to say. 

Well, now I have a lot to say. You should be glad I am not into video blogs. You’d see the ugly cry that’s going on right now.

I took my two teenagers to a Midland Ministries event on Saturday night. Twenty years ago I was sitting in Midland Ministry rallies one Saturday every month. Back then it was called Teens for Christ.

I was fifteen and praying by a tree at a Teen’s for Christ Camp when I was certain that God had called me to missions.  A memory etched beautifully in my mind.

I was sixteen when I made my first BIG compromise. In my mind there were deal breakers with God. I was now unworthy. The out of control spiral came until I was eighteen. I was engaged and a college drop out. You’ve heard that story many times now, but God woke me up one Saturday morning and told me he didn’t call me to be a loser.  I walked into church again the next day.

Saturday night I replayed the last twenty years. I tallied all the “deal breakers” and all the things that make me “unqualified”.  I decided that if my “mission” in life was to support missions only, I would. If my mission in life was to buy and share fair trade items from people who have been released from all sorts of captivity; I would buy them, pray over them, and cherish every last piece.

Sunday morning’s message was about our church’s mission in Bluefields, Nicaragua. I had already decided that I really wanted to go. I saved up some money from my coaching business and Friday, because of the nature of the beast, I had to cash those to pay some bills. I was back at square one with nothing.

I spent yesterday afternoon looking up what I needed to do donate plasma, how many times could I do that in a week, and how much money would that earn me in a month. I calculated how I could add two more fitness classes to my schedule, putting me at ten for a week to make the extra money. Could I add a 4^th job?

I still have Haley’s trip to pay for to DC with her class in April. I have signed my mom and I up for almost every available concession stand at the school.

I was overwhelmed. I just did what I do best, I laid on my bed.

I began to pray.

“God if I am supposed to go, help me to trust you. If I am not supposed to go, help me to trust you.”

Still antsy, I started to clean the clutter and dust my room. I should have known that God was stirring something because I am not usually stirred to do any of that on Sundays. I take my rest day pretty serious. I don’t move.

My phone rang and it was a family member. She started out the conversation like this,

“I have a lot of emotions and I don’t know how to say this”. (Bracing myself for the absolute worst)

She continues, “If you are serious about going on the mission trip to Nicaragua, we would like to pay for your trip.”

After several awkward moments of me sobbing in the phone…

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

I haven’t stopped crying since. I am overwhelmed.

Its only eight days, people. I know this.  I also came to terms a long time ago that my mission field is here for now. There are people groups here that God has for me. It’s not about the traveling.

I have been blessed with jobs that send me places. I have stayed in some of the best hotels and resorts. I have seen the mountains, the oceans, and the desserts. I have stood before memorials and rode all forms of public transportation. I have seen the beautiful sunsets in Hawaii. I have ran next to a rainbow over the ocean. I have been to Disney Land and Disney World. I have seen a lot of amazing places here in America.

But…

I’d trade all of that to give dignity and mobility to some of the poorest people in under developed countries by giving them a wheelchair. I’d give all of that up to see the well being built by the church so little girls don’t have to be sexually assaulted when they do laundry in the dry season. I’d give all of that back to see the local church thrive and lives changed because of Jesus.  I’d give it back to see the local churches thrive and lives changed by Jesus in the under developed world. 

I wasn’t disqualified. God had better timing for me. I took some detours, made up my own rules, and when I make a mistake, I make 'em big. 

 In youth group Wednesday night we read from Colossians 1. 

Paul says to church in Colossae:
 “Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation- if you continue in your faith, established and firm, and do not move from the hope held out in the gospel.”

I was once alienated and I made myself an enemy in my own mind. Many times I have asked God how he could still love me. He has reconciled me because He loves me. He sent a sacrifice of one man, his son, Jesus for me. For me, Christi Miller,  He didn’t say “now keep it together, Christi, or you are out”. He said continue in your faith and do not move from hope because of Jesus. When I lose my way, Jesus points me back. When I can't trust my heart, I trust Jesus. When I make mistakes and He knows I will, Jesus carries me home. 

So, twenty years later I will spend my 35^th birthday on my first mission trip. For twenty years I have found myself many times on my knees before the cross, with my head in the lap of grace, held by the arms of mercy, and constantly reminded that He is for me in His no, His wait, His timing, His forgiveness. 

For this, I am overwhelmed.

Anything

 

Three little kids came crashing into our life and I will never be the same. I have great facebook friends. I can post a need for someone and have it met in a week. It’s amazing. I love them.

It’s common for me to get a message like the one I got from my neighbor:

 “My friend is taking care of her three grandkids and they need clothes. Do you know anyone who has some?”  I post their sizes, pick them up, deliver them and go on.

Not this time. The little ones wanted to model their new clothes for me in their “favorite colors”. I listened to their  story from Grandma and I hurt for them. The little guy sat on my lap, put his head up against mine and rocked. He was shy at first and finally put on his little superman robe someone sent him. No words. No smile. Just one little intense stare from him.

The one we call “Squishy” grabbed my hand and said, “next time you come, can you bring us ice cream?”

Someone else sent some clothes and shoes and I had another reason to stop by. I asked Barney to stop at the store so we could show up with that ice cream.

My friend had delivered a toddler bed, more clothes, and boxes of toys. They wanted to model for us again. Grandma needed to get the house ready, she works nights, she appeared tired. I asked if we could take them to Sunday School. This became our Sunday ritual for a month. On Easter, Grandma went to church with us.  

People, we always run late. They came into our lives and we got up earlier and got them in class on time. The little guy snuggled with me during worship and worked his way back to class. We played with goats, played at my parents, made cookies, did a polar plunge. We fell in love. Our Sundays of naps, eating and laying around were now playing with these little guys.

I don’t usually ask little kids to come to my house. I have been cleaning up after kids for 14 years and adding more is not my forte. I don’t sign up for nursery because of the chaos, but I couldn’t wait to pick these guys up every week.

That first Sunday I was nervous how to ask if we could keep getting them. I thought about them all night. I was a little shocked that I enjoyed it so much and that I wanted to do it again. It was an overwhelming love for strangers, a love that brought me to my knees and to tears many times that week.

My girls got baby ducks for Easter. The first thing they said was I cannot wait to show the kids these. It was instant love for them too. We wrapped their new Bibles and Easter candy and took pictures together at church.

That Tuesday after Easter, because of the nature of the beast they, were placed in foster care. I left my house immediately to say goodbye. When I walked in they all yelled, “Its Sunday we are going to Sunday School”. Gut wrenching. I couldn’t speak through the tears to talk. I think they took 200 pictures of themselves on my phone that day while grandma packed their bags.

The two little girls got in the car and the little guy ran and put his arms around my legs. It was all I could do not to put him in my car and go. At that moment I don’t want to say ‘have fun’. I don’t want to say ‘see you soon’. I want to say ‘come home with me’.

The Sunday before I got the message to get clothes for these kids, I was reading Restless by Jennie Allen and getting my world rocked. We also had a missionary from Canada at our church talk about the struggle and trusting in God’s plan. I cried through his talk. There are days when I feel that I have no purpose, days I feel I have nothing to offer. I didn’t become a “missionary” like I had planned and the enemy knows how to use that. He reminds me often of the day we signed our own rights away. There are days I feel like everything I set out to do crumbles before me.

Barney asked me If I was prepared for the heartache. I was sure I could handle it. The heartache of watching that social worker’s car pull away with those three faces waving and smiling goodbye made me want to lock this heart up. The heartache I saw in telling my own kids why we can’t pick them up on Sundays anymore made me wonder why I put us in this situation. I open up the cabinet to get a cup and see the sippy cups and I cry. I try to tell people why they aren’t with us on Sunday and I cry. I wake up in the middle of the night and I think about them and I cry.  I write them on the prayer request card at church and I cry.

Yesterday someone asked me on facebook if I would ask for some clothes for some kids. Their mom had just gotten out of prison and they were staying with them. I met their sweet faces in the store and I realized my heart is still open, even if it’s still hurting.

My prayer is like Jennie’s other book I am reading, “Anything”.

Anything, Lord, I will do anything you ask.   And if Jesus asked me to open my heart up again tomorrow, I’d do it in a heartbeat.  I am not alive until I am poured out. I am not living unless I am sacrificing. I will love deeply despite the heartbreak. I will take risks if it matters for eternity.

In the midst of that heartache, I felt joy. In the midst of the unknown, I know who is faithful. I found pure and faultless religion. I found something beautiful in an unlikely place.

Pure and faultless religion is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress. – James 1:27

I know this story is not finished. I trust the Author, even when it's hard.

 

 

Come and See

I have had this blog rolling around in my head for quite some time. I have sat down to write it and I felt like God was saying I wasn’t ready to write it. The idea and theme were there but my heart was not in the right place to write it.

I got a new Bible at the beginning of the year. I called it my clean slate.  My prayer was that God would get rid of the “religious” stuff I knew and replace it with his heart.  Our community group bible study happens to be Jesus >Religion (I hope I got that right, I hated that little pac-man sign in school. I was like shouldn’t the arrow point and they were like no, the mouth bites.  Whatever.) I just wanted to know what Jesus said. I wanted to know what Jesus did. That’s it. I also happen to be reading a book by Shane Claiborne called “Irresistable Revolution”.

I am an absolute mess, a sponge, torn, wrestling, crying out to learn, hopeful, broken, and clinging to Jesus. It is beautiful.

I am wrestling with what I think I know and the truth that I am learning. I am a sponge for his words  and his walk. I am torn because I can’t get this religious robe off; sometimes it comes off the shoulders and gets caught at my waist. I am hopeful that God is leading me and I am broken because I’ve missed the mark so many times. I cling to Jesus because he knows where he’s taking me and my heart is prone to get lost.

I am studying John with ten thousand other women through IF Equip (find them on facebook, also If Gathering).  Some days I feel like I am meeting Jesus for the first time and some days I wonder how I could read the scripture and never see before.

You ready for this? It blew my mind.

³⁵ Again, the next day, John stood with two of his disciples. ³⁶ And looking at Jesus as He walked, he said, “Behold the Lamb of God!”

³⁷ The two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus. ³⁸ Then Jesus turned, and seeing them following, said to them, “What do you seek?”

They said to Him, “Rabbi” (which is to say, when translated, Teacher), “where are You staying?”

³⁹ He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where He was staying, and remained with Him that day (now it was about the tenth hour).

⁴⁰ One of the two who heard John speak, and followed Him, was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. ⁴¹ He first found his own brother Simon, and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated, the Christ). ⁴² And he brought him to Jesus.

Now when Jesus looked at him, He said, “You are Simon the son of Jonah.^[a] You shall be called Cephas” (which is translated, A Stone). The following day Jesus wanted to go to Galilee, and He found Philip and said to him, “Follow Me.” ⁴⁴ Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. ⁴⁵ Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found Him of whom Moses in the law, and also the prophets, wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”

⁴⁶ And Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

Philip said to him, “Come and see.”

⁴⁷ Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward Him, and said of him, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom is no deceit!”

⁴⁸ Nathanael said to Him, “How do You know me?”

Jesus answered and said to him, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.”

⁴⁹ Nathanael answered and said to Him, “Rabbi, You are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”

⁵⁰ Jesus answered and said to him, “Because I said to you, ‘I saw you under the fig tree,’ do you believe? You will see greater things than these.” ⁵¹ And He said to him, “Most assuredly, I say to you, hereafter^[b] you shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

Do you want to know what Jesus is doing? Do you want to know where Jesus is going? Can anything good come from this?

Come and see. Follow Me.

He already saw you under the fig tree. You don’t find him. He’s not a religion we find. He found us. He’s not a religion with explanation and rules. You just come and see. You follow him.

I was not allowed to date Barney. I was not allowed to talk to him on the phone, but I loved Barney. So I would read him Romans Road (Some of my friends know what that is J). I wanted him to say a prayer so I could put my “saved” sticker on him and present him shiny and new to my parents. I did present my shiny new ring and my mom had to take a bath. (They love him now and they like him more than me. Haha!)

In Christianese I was a backslider. I saw myself as a missionary dater (christianese and not the best idea). I was living in sin. I was quite happy and in love until God literally woke me up one morning and said, “I did not call you to be a loser”.  Let’s be clear. There is conviction. God does discipline his children. He does remind us of the good he called us to.

So I nudged Barney and said, “I can’t marry you unless you go to church with me tomorrow”.

“Well, I am not. I am Catholic.” (Back then I believed unless you came to Jesus through a prayer in front of a church or a rally, you were lost. I also believed as long as you did that, life was good. I didn't see the follow me.)

I called my mom and told her I was coming to church. I asked her to pray for Barney. He finally agreed because I was serious about giving the ring back. I went to pick him up the next day and in true Barney fashion he decided against it. I thought for sure sleeping by himself would give him the want to. J I was ticked and he knew it, so he got in the car.

“Just pray the prayer” is what I was praying. He didn’t that week or the next or the next several weeks.

JUST GO FORWARD ALREADY!! (More Christianese for you)

A few months later the engagement was off and Barney was sitting in jail for 24 hours. Devastating. Heartbreaking. I felt like the whole world was saying, “I told you so. That boy is just a walk a way Joe” (unless you listened to country music in the 90’s that was completely stupid to you and not funny.)

Barney met Jesus that night in jail. Not only did he ask him to lead him but he grabbed the kid next to him that just killed his best friend in a car accident and shared what he knew about Jesus. Together they prayed for Jesus to lead them.

I tried to force Jesus on Barney. Jesus can’t be forced. He doesn’t grab you and make you do anything. You want to know how he works? Come and see. Follow Him. Barney watched this Jesus for weeks. He heard his message. In his darkest hour, Jesus said “I saw you under the fig tree.” I saw you in that cell. He saw me, like the woman at the well, hiding at the noon hour.  He said,” worship me in spirit and in truth, this isn’t the life I chose for you.”  (He’s done that more than once for me.)

Here lies my struggle. I am not sure if you can see it, but it’s getting more and more apparent. Maybe it’s the finger prints and the cracks that are beginning to show. Maybe it’s the shaking and the cracking, but the glass wall between us and them has to come down.

We (Christians) stand on our side and call our sin backsliding. We call our sin forgiven. We call our Jesus loving. We say hate the sin and love the sinner, but we picket sinners. We say pick up your cross but the world sees picket signs pressed up against the glass. We say serve and love but don’t serve the sinner, you should have a right to not let them in your business. We say forgive seventy times seven because that’s what Jesus said, but we keep a label on people after they fall.

We are scared to love certain groups of people because of the religious people that may be watching. I know. I struggle (present tense) with this. We forget to take the board out of our own eye to get the splinter out of theirs. We shine a light on their label and cover ours with “love”. Love covers a multitude of sins, unless I feel like uncovering yours and launching it at you. I am guilty.

I am taking off this robe. My picket sign is down. My cross, my light is going on. My fists are going to pound that glass that separates us and them until it comes down.

Jesus, friend of sinners.  Jesus, friend of prostitutes, tax collectors and the like. Jesus, drawing a line in the sand and telling the religious without sin to cast the first stone. If I follow this Jesus, shouldn’t I be friends with them too? Jesus said find that person of peace. In every “us and them” is a person of peace, a person that has ears to hear and a heart that listens (that goes both ways).

I am a prevention specialist. I wondered how in the world I could ever use that to serve the Kingdom. I work with communities to change programs, practices and policies to change for the better around alcohol and drugs. We also tackle addiction, suicide prevention, bullying etc. You name it and I rally the people to do it. I talk to leaders, community members, parents, stakeholders, government officials etc. and together sit at the table and cause change in our specific sectors. People tell me no and people join the party. We just keep moving.

Today that light came on. We cannot change for the better as a community of Jesus followers until we change our practices and policies. We all have sectors (parts of the body) that we can cause change.  God keeps putting those kinds of Followers in my path. The wall is coming down.

I read this quote from our Bible Study book and it rang through my head for weeks.

“While the blood is on our hands, Jesus’ perfect sacrifice calls out for our innocence. Free to go. Not guilty”...

That’s how I want to see other people. In the midst of their sin, (because Lord knows I struggle with my own) Jesus in his sacrifice, is crying out for their innocence.

I don’t have to “fix” anyone. You want to know this Jesus I love, this Jesus that loves you, this Jesus that took the sin of the world and placed it on him in your place?

Come and See. Jesus doesn't need me to fight for him. He didn't need Peter to cut off the soldiers ear before he was arrested. He just asked me to follow him, take up my cross, and let my light shine.