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Christmas Genes 1: Tamar

“She is more righteous than I am,” Genesis 38:26

I remember the first time I felt “othered”. I knew from little on I was not the same as my siblings; we didn’t have the same father, and my bone structure and the tone of my skin were disparaged by him. But this feeling of being “othered” was different than my daily experience. It was the last day of second grade, I loved school, and I was excited to read fluently. I don’t remember stealing the candy bar; I just remember the teacher asking me if I had taken an extra birthday treat. I remember denying it and feeling a wave of guilt, but the chocolate smear on my face gave me away. Lifting my desk, she saw the evidence, a crumpled wrapper. She gave me a note to take home. Handing it to my father, he sneered with disgust immediately. Despite normally being an obedient child, he instantly found a way to publicly humiliate me. He told my siblings I was a thief, and for the next two weeks, made me stay inside while the rest played outside. That summer, I wore my first scarlet letter.

Feeling “othered” is a universal feeling among women. Whether or not we are athletic enough, fit societal standards of beauty, or are talented enough in certain areas, at some point in our lives, we don’t feel like we measure up or fit in. Misty Copeland, principal ballerina for the NYC Ballet Company, despite her raw talent, faced scrutiny by critics that she didn’t have the “right look” for a ballerina. Oprah Winfrey was told she needed to lose weight by Joan Rivers. Jamie Lee Curtis was typecast as a horror actress and worked hard to find different roles for herself in Hollywood. The list goes on and on.

There are several Tamars in the Bible. The account of this Tamar takes place in Genesis 38. Judah’s mother, Leah, could never win her husband’s favor, even after the birth of three sons. Finally, after her fourth son was born, she decided to focus on the favor of God, naming her son Judah, which meant “I will praise the Lord.” Judah married a Canaanite woman and gave birth to a son, Er. She also gave birth to two other sons. Later, Judah arranged for Er to marry Tamar. Immediately, the Bible records that “Er was wicked” and the Lord took his life. Some commentaries point out how close this followed his marriage, believing that it might have something to do with how he treated Tamar.

In most of the world at that time, widows were left to fend for themselves. They often had to return to their father’s home and remain single for the rest of their lives. Hebrew law made provisions for the widows and for the lineage of the deceased husband. It involved the widow marrying her deceased husband’s brother. Judah arranged for Tamar to marry his second son, Onan. Displeased with this arrangement, Onan treated Tamar like a prostitute, ensuring she wouldn’t get pregnant. God was disappointed with Onan’s treatment of Tamar and took his life as well.

Judah secretly blamed Tamar for the death of his two sons. He never sought God, who may have led him to the truth about his sons’ wickedness. Instead, he led Tamar to believe that once his third son, Shelah, grew up, he would give Tamar to him in marriage.

So, Tamar, twice widowed, was sent back to her father’s house. I can’t imagine how othered she must have felt. Women her age were married and giving birth to children. Instead, she probably went to the market, with people whispering about how she was either unlucky or evil, causing the death of two husbands. Years went by, and Tamar got to see everyone else’s life flourish, while she sat on the sidelines, watching life pass her by.

Names were important in the Bible, and “Tamar” meant date palm. Date palms symbolize righteousness and vitality. Dates have a lot of nutritional value, including lowering bad cholesterol, being packed with Vitamin B, and helping balance the digestive tract. Because of their high sugar content, they require a lot of energy to grow the 200-300 dates in a season. Thus, they need to grow together and get a lot of water to flourish.

After a while, Tamar realized that Judah had no intention of honoring his word. By this time, she was probably aware of the promises given to Judah’s great-grandfather, that the one true God called this group of people into a covenantal relationship with him. She was tired of being othered and she was desperate to be a part of this Godly heritage. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute, the very thing that Onan had treated her like. She seduced her father-in-law and held his seal as a promise of payment.

Judah later heard that his daughter-in-law was pregnant. In his mind, this confirmed his preconceived notion of Tamar. His immediate response was to have her burned. As they were taking her out to be killed, Tamar let them know that the father of her unborn child was the person who owned the seal she held. Judah recognized it as his own immediately and declared, “that she was more righteous than I.”

The story goes on to say that Tamar gave birth to twins. The midwife saw one of the babies’ hands reach out, and she quickly tied a scarlet thread onto the wrist, declaring this was the firstborn. This was important because he would inherit all the rights of the firstborn. But Perez pushed back his brother and came out first, with his name meaning “breaking out.” Perez’s name was more significant than breaking out first from his mother’s womb. Biblically, he was given the honor of the covenantal lineage, over his older brother Shelah. The Bible doesn’t say why, but Judah hinted at this when he declared Tamar’s righteousness over his own.

Today, women respond in one of two ways when feeling othered. Like Tamar, some women take matters into their own hands to get the outcome they desire or deserve. But it is interesting that Matthew doesn’t tell just Tamar’s story in the lineage. He includes three other women as well. This could point to the other way women can handle feeling othered. Women can collaborate with other women, bind together with supportive men, and change the false narratives of society. I have seen women athletes champion all women across different sports. I see it when writers encourage other women to write and mentor them along the way. I see it in the church when older women mentor younger women to grow in godliness and character.

I want to reiterate that date palms only flourish when well-watered and in community with other date palms. Jesus wants women to flourish well in healthy spiritual communities that support all women: single, married, widowed, or divorced. He created women to have all different personalities: some are bold, while others are quiet. He created women of all different shapes and sizes. He created women to express their creativity in different talents. And all these women should be celebrated and treated like valuable members of the community, not only by other women, but by men as well, especially those who are spiritual leaders.

How does one gauge the healthiness of their community? A good place to start is to ask the women in your circle if they feel “othered.” Only ask this question if you are willing to suspend judgment and exercise curiosity. The answers may surprise you, and you may find yourself challenged to be more supportive of women. Judah quickly saw the folly of his own judgment and declared Tamar’s righteousness without blame-shifting. Next, ask God to help you see women the way Jesus sees women. Finally, start implementing changes in how you speak to and about women in general and work towards creating a more inclusive environment.

In the Christmas story, Matthew ensured for eternity that Tamar would no longer be “othered.” I am forever grateful for that!

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Chirstmas Genes: Intro

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2:11

My husband loves investigating his genealogy. After subscribing to Ancestry.com, he learned that his Scottish family arrived in the US in the mid-1700s. Further back, he discovered that his ancestors lived in a castle and he is distantly related to England’s Queen Camilla. Less than two weeks later, he also found that one of his more recent ancestors was convicted of murder.

Learning about your ancestry can help people feel rooted. Reading the names of my own indigenous relatives helped me connect with my biological father’s family in unexpected ways. I even discovered some more siblings. Some people prize these roots so much that infamous people are cut out of their family trees. It is as if their entire existence is erased because their relatives don’t want the family tree marred by a rotten branch.

I went to the same high school that my mom and her siblings attended. Because I had my mother’s maiden name, the high school principal, Mr Havey, asked if I was related to Dennis and Dave Walter. My twin uncles were amazing men, but had a reputation for being a bit mischievous in high school. Quite often, Mr Havey would call my grandmother to report on their escapades. I replied yes to his question but quickly reminded him I was also related to Kenny and Debbie Walter, my uncle and aunt, who were much more studious. I wanted him to know who I identified with as a high school student.

For the next few weeks, I will be writing about the genealogy of Jesus. Specifically, I want to examine the four women that Matthew chose to include in his account of Jesus’ birth. First, the fact that he was willing to include women in the genealogy says something significant about Jesus. Matthew was trying to prove the “Jewishness” of Jesus by tracing his lineage back to Abraham. But, inspired by God, Matthew included women in Jesus’ genealogical record, which was controversial in those days. Furthermore, all four women had stories filled with brokenness perpetuated by the misogynistic society in which they lived. Again, inspired by God, Matthew included these women for a reason, and that reason gets at the heart of who Jesus is.

Another woman, Mary, the mother of Jesus, said it best in what is referred to as her “Magnificat.” Mary offers this praise after her cousin Elizabeth confirms that Mary is indeed carrying the Messiah. This praise came when so much was still unknown in her future. Her betrothed, Joseph, had not yet indicated how he was going to manage this scandalous pregnancy. According to Hebrew law, he had the right to publicly shame her by legally divorcing her. Despite her uncertain future, Mary was confident in God, declaring “My soul magnifies the Lord.” She goes on to say, “For he took notice of his lowly servant girl and from now on all generations will call me blessed.” Jesus was lifting women up for future generations.

On the surface, it’s obvious that women were treated unfairly in biblical times. Many Christians have perpetuated that in the modern church. They have minimized women’s roles in ministry, marriage, and life. However, reading deeper, you can see that Jesus was trying to raise up women. Peter declared that salvation was for men and women. Jesus declared he came to set the “captive free.” Women were, and continue to be, captive by limitations contrived by society. Jesus intended salvation to bring women liberty and freedom.

My husband reminded me how significant it was that Matthew added these women in the Bible. Matthew knew firsthand how the prejudices of society could impact a person. As a tax collector on behalf of the hated Roman government, Matthew was an outcast among his own people. It is likely he was called names, shunned, and spat upon. He may not have been welcomed in the temple or allowed to share Shabbat with his family. Jesus saw how loneliness and bitterness had broken Matthew’s spirit. But Jesus also saw beyond what others labeled as an outcast and called Matthew to be his disciple. Over the next few years, Matthew was an eyewitness to how Jesus treated those devalued by society, especially women, several of whom were named as followers of Jesus.

Join me and hear the stories of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bethsheba. Note: I want to give credit to Raymond Woodward for inspiring this piece with his message “Broken Christmas.” You can find his message on YouTube. I disagreed with his interpretation of Bethsheba. Read my upcoming piece on her to see my interpretation

This is a picture of my uncles, Dennis and David, who have since passed away.
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Formations 18: God’s Word

“Your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path.” Psalms 110:105

God’s Word

Nourishes me,

Encourages me,

Inspires me,

Reminds me, and then,

Convicts me.

God’s Word

Informs me,

Persuades me,

Awakens me,

To whom God is

And who I am not.

God’s Word

Has been misaligned,

Has been weaponized,

Has been misinterpreted,

Has been misused,

And this is so unfortunate.

God’s Word

I need to study,

I need to mediate,

I need to pray.

And when I repeat,

It will be alive in me.

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Formations 3: My Greatest Love Story

“Oh Lord, you are so good, so ready to forgive, so full of unfailing love for all who ask for your help.” Psalms 86:5 NLT

It started almost 36 years ago, tear-stained cheeks, bowed at an altar asking a simple question: “God, are you real? If you are, please fill me with your spirit?” Seconds later, I felt this warm blanket of peace cover me and joy bubbling up from deep within my soul. At that moment, I knew there was a God who loved and cared for me. At that moment, He became my Savior. At that moment, I still had a lot to learn about this God.

I am still discovering His goodness, His love for me, the depth of His sacrifice, and His plans for my life. I love my husband, my children, and my grandchildren. I love my extended family and friends. But the greatest love story in my life is still unfolding, it is my relationship with Jesus Christ.

Like all love stories, it has its hills and valleys. Those are not based on His love for me, but rather my distorted view of Him. I sometimes wander away from Him, pridefully believing I can figure it out on my own. Time after time, His gentleness leads me back to repentance. Other times, I try to worship or connect with Him, but I allow distractions to turn my gaze to other things. Again, His Word redirects me so I can connect. He is forever faithful, knows my deepest secrets, my most unkind thoughts, and yet, still loves me.

I am forever grateful for that altar 36 years ago. It has slowly turned me from being a broken teenager scarred by sexual abuse into a woman who knows God heals and lovingly restores. And as this love story continues, I know someday I will be reunited with Him, surrounded by His glory.

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Musing 3: Longwood Eulogy

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints” Psalm 116:15

Recently, we spent an evening at Longwood Gardens in eastern PA. We meandered through the gift store, finding treasures to share with loved ones. We took a small walk through the garden, seeing golden, purple, and burgundy flowers make their final encore before the frost curtain falls. We marveled at the Ginkgo trees, hearing squirrels scattering in the branches. We ended the evening waiting for the illuminated fountain show, which highlighted Bollywood music. Enchanted by the crisp air, I offered to get Terry a hot drink at the food stand above where we were sitting. I climbed the steps and found my way to the hut selling hot spiced apple cider. After the woman handed me my drinks, I started the descent down, but an image of hot drinks sloshing over the lids, or worse, one tumbling down the stairs, stopped me. I could not hold both drinks at the same time while going down the stone stairs. So, I called Terry, and he met me, as he always does, to help me.

I have written four eulogies for people I loved, three of which I personally gave at their funerals. Eulogy writing is hard; how do you sum up someone you loved in a few paragraphs amid your own personal grief? How do you share other people’s perspectives, trying to make the person you care about sound well-rounded? In the case of my uncle, how do you write about him as a husband, father, uncle, and mentor? And the thing I have wrestled with most is how do I stay honest in my portrayal? All too often, I have heard people eulogized, making them akin to Queen Elizabeth, Mother Theresa, or even Jesus himself. In no way do I think a funeral is the place to air your grievances, but it is important to be honest. Even the greatest humanitarian has faults. No one on this side of Heaven is perfect, except Jesus himself. So, I found myself putting fingers on the keyboard, painting with words a praiseworthy portrayal of the person, yet staying true to their humanity.

About two months ago, Dr. James Dobson died. For those of you outside the evangelical world, Dr. Dobson was a major influencer with his daily radio program and nonprofit, Focus on the Family. As a clinical psychologist, he doled out parenting and marriage advice through a Christian lens. He later became more politically active by addressing issues concerning abortion, immigration, and euthanasia. As a new mother, his voice was ever-present in my home, and his books filled my shelves, including Dare to Discipline and The Strong-Willed Child. I loved the world his nonprofit created with the children’s radio drama Adventures in Odyssey. My son’s middle name is Whitaker, and I secretly wished he was named after Whit, the wise older man who owned an ice cream shop in the imaginary town of Odyssey. I even called Focus on the Family’s hotline once to seek some parenting advice during a difficult toddler moment. I was an ardent follower.

Sometime after my children reached high school, I stopped listening to Dr. Dobson. It wasn’t for any specific reason, but likely because I had gotten bored. I had spent the last eighteen years or so listening to the same ideas from different voices through his various interviews. Dr. Dobson had also stepped down from Focus on the Family and later formed a new show under a different nonprofit, where he could make a stronger impact on politics. I only tuned in when my son became engaged and streamed a few shows on how to be a good mother-in-law. I was in a new season of my life, listening to new voices.

In 2016, when Donald Trump arrived on the scene, I was surprised to hear that Dr. Dobson endorsed him. This was the same man who stood firm during the Clinton years, speaking that morality mattered in political office. I tried to justify his endorsement because Mike Pence, his running mate, seemed to have a moral backbone. But as time went on, I heard more about Dr. Dobson’s stance, and I became a little disillusioned with one of my Christian mentors. He seemed to shift, espousing the idea that morality was less important in electing people for political office.

I also started hearing some criticism from some adults who had been raised by Dobson’s followers. They felt his stance on discipline opened the door to child abuse. I reflected on what I had heard and was shocked that some parents had drawn these conclusions based on his talk show and books. Yes, he advocated for discipline and structure, but he insisted discipline had to be shrouded with love. But, upon reflection, I also understood how some people can draw those conclusions based on Dobson’s teachings.

How do I hold the Dr. Dobson who helped shape my parenting in a healthy way, when that same Dr. Dobson’s methods were seen as creating controlling environments and potentially leading to child abuse? How do I hold the Dr. Dobson who helped me see that integrity was an important trait to develop in my life, when that same Dr. Dobson called President Trump a gentleman despite Trump’s crassness on the Hollywood Access tapes? The only way I can hold that is by realizing that, just like me, Dr. Dobson is a Christian who is not perfect. As a formerly ardent follower, I also needed to be careful not to make my mentor an icon.

About six months ago, a question was asked by my pastor: as a Christian, who do you admire or want to be like? One person admired an influential prayer warrior, another said their mom, but one precious tween said “Sherry, because she is always cheerful and encouraging.” I was humbled and surprised by her love for me, but I also felt the weight of that responsibility. I am human and far from perfect. In conversations with her since then, I constantly remind her that I have faults. I don’t want to be the disgraced hero in her eyes. But maybe I need to let her draw her own conclusions at the end of my life. I pray that she doesn’t see me as a perfect Sherry, but a Sherry who knew that Jesus loved her and let His love flow through her to others.

I found holding two hot drinks and going downstairs outside at dusk challenging. But what is even more challenging is knowing that someday my husband, friend, sibling, child or grandchild will have to write my eulogy. I know I have made mistakes in all those relationships, and I will continue to do so while still breathing. I just pray that as I get to know Jesus more, they will see a woman who owned her mistakes and kept growing closer to Jesus.

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53 to 17

“Wisdom is with age the aged and understanding in length of days.” Job 12:12

At 53 years old, I wish I could tell my 17-year-old self the following:

  • God is a good God. You don’t have to strive to win His approval; you just need to be in relationship with Him, because He loves you.
  • Enjoy the college cafeteria, because after figuring out what to cook for more than 11,000 dinners, the decision about what you want for dinner is not so glamorous.
  • There will be good times and challenging times, but remember, each season is just a season.
  • Wear sunscreen and reapply it often.
  • Stop buying so much stuff! Eventually most of it ends up being donated, at your yard sale, or, even worse, in the landfill!
  • There is no book that tells you what to expect during menopause, but I hope that by the time your daughter reaches this stage, a book will have finally been published; written, of course, by a woman.
  • Relationships matter, so spend more time cultivating them.
  • Choose where you spend your time carefully: outdoors, being creative, and giving back to your community.
  • Remember the three R’s: read, read more, and read more often.
  • No relationship is ever meant to be your all: not your spouse, your children, and not your friends. Only God is meant to fulfill you.
  • Marriage can be hard, but it also can be a lot of fun. Make sure you laugh often, chill together, forgive continuously, and have adventures.
  • Celebrate the big moments and the small victories.
  • Life is extraordinarily ordinary and that is okay.
  • Sleep for 7 to 9 hours; the rest is good for both your mental and physical health.
  • Some of the movies, fashion choices, and music you loved at 17 didn’t stand the test of time –who cares, look at those memories as good, (Yes, I had pictures of Knight Rider David Hasselhoff on my wall along with Tom Wopat form Dukes of Hazard, and Andrew Macarthy from Pretty in Pink)
  • Fruit is nature’s candy when it is in season. Buy it then and indulge it.
  • Lots of people including yourself will have negative opinions about your body, stop listening to those voices, Express kindness to your body.
  • Kindness costs nothing, be generous with it and express it to everyone.

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I’m A Bit Much!

“Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates.” Proverbs 31:31 ESV

For our first Pennsylvania Thanksgiving, both my sisters and my in-laws made the trek from Wisconsin, Nebraska, and Illinois to celebrate with us. We had our traditional turkey feast and squeezed in an early Christmas with everyone as well. To keep the season festive, I made everyone’s favorite Christmas treats: Hershey Kiss Cookies, Peanut Butter Balls, Haystacks, Thumbprints and Carrot Cookies. My sister’s boyfriend came with her, and I assumed he would find a cookie amongst our favorites that he would like. When I noticed that Jamin was passing on the cookies, he politely shared that he didn’t like nuts, peanut butter, or carrots in cookies. I felt bad and promised the next holiday we had together, I would bake his favorite cookie or treat. I asked what he liked, half expecting him to announce sugar or gingerbread cookies. His eyes lit up and he exclaimed, “Cornflake Wreaths!” He explained that he and his mother had a tradition of making these treats, and he emphasized the importance of the red-hot candies. Terry snickered in the background, because he had been asking for years to add these same treats to the holiday baking list. I half-heartedly agreed but kept putting them at the bottom of the list.

So, next Christmas, I finally decided to make Cornflake Wreaths for Terry. I looked up the recipe and immediately presumed there was a mistake: 1 tsp. of green food coloring? Surely, that was a misprint, since food coloring is typically measured by drops. I adjusted the food coloring, added a few extra drops, then attempted to form the wreaths. When it was all said and done, my blob-shaped wreaths were the shade of a sick Grinch. I snapped a picture and sent it to Jamin asking what I did wrong. He informed me that buttered hands were necessary to shape the wreaths. He also said a lot of green food coloring was necessary to get the right shade. And when you think you have enough, add some extra.

There is a new poet, Lindsay Rush, known on Instagram as Mary Oliver’s drunken cousin, who wrote a poem that went viral and has since become my poetic life mantra. It is titled “She’s A Bit Much.” She takes a common insult made about women and turns it into a compliment. She compares the insulted women to confetti, sprinkles, and the bonus French fry at the bottom of the bag, someone we are to celebrate, and she ends with the line, “Aren’t we lucky she’s here.” Her poem points to a bigger truth: insults made about women, such as she is a bit much, too bossy, manipulative, too driven, not feminine enough, etc., are more about putting women into a box that minimizes their God-given attributes when they should be celebrated.

As I child, I was labeled as bossy by some adults in my circle. I had budding leaderships skills, and needed adult guidance to help develop those skills in a healthy manner. Yes, some children with leadership skills can develop into narcissistic dictators, but most children just need adults to help them recognize that being a leader is not just giving orders but inviting others along to accomplish a goal for the greater good. It is interesting that boys are rarely described as bossy; words like charismatic or having leadership potential are used instead.

I have also been accused, in some circles, of being “too much” and have had conversations with other women who have also been unjustly accused of this as well. Introverted, mild mannered Christian women are held up as the more palatable and less offensive role models. According to the Bible, we are all expected to be humble, gracious, and gentle. Those character traits are not just limited to the female gender. But somehow, we associate those traits with quiet females. I think I can be “too much” in some people’s eyes but still exhibit the fruits of humility, graciousness, and gentleness in my life. It is just how those fruits are manifested that might be different than some of my introverted friends.

The point is, we label women with negative traits that we rarely use to describe men, and somehow, we think that it is okay. Although I don’t like being called bossy or “too much”, I find myself putting other women into a box with the label “brassy.” These so-called “brassy” women boldly state their opinions or ask for what they need from others without qualifications. We all need to learn a level of hospitality and be careful that we are asking and not demanding. Being bold and direct are not bad traits, and I must be careful that I am not labeling a bold woman as brassy when I don’t apply the same standard to men.

Like most consumers, I can be drawn in by certain labels. Terms like “sustainable,” “supports local farmers,” and “produced in small batches” are like catnip to me. I also look for labels in a bookstore and rush to the poetry, memoirs, and literary fiction sections, avoiding the fantasy and science fiction shelves. These labels help me pursue what I am looking for. But when we broadly label women negatively, we impose limits on what we think they can and should achieve, which can sometimes become self-imposed limits.

One of the most controversial women today, Meghan, the Duchess of Sussex, addressed these labels or archetypes on a podcast she did in 2022. She understands firsthand how labels can destroy when the media and trolls describe her as a “gold-digger,” “fake,” “family destroyer” and far worse. She interviewed some women, including Serena Williams, Paris Hilton, and Mariah Carey, exploring the origins and consequences of being labeled ambitious, a bimbo, or a diva. These women shared how they have let go of the negativity and, in some cases, changed the definition to a positive one. One thing from her podcast that stuck with me is when Serena Williams talked about negativity in relation to a woman being described as ambitious. Serena explained how for a long time that label hadn’t impacted her until she met her husband. But then people started describing her ambition in a negative light. “So, since I’ve felt the negativity behind it (referring to ambition), it’s really hard to un-feel it. I can’t unsee it, either, in the millions of girls and women who make themselves smaller, so much smaller—on a regular basis.”

Serena articulated something that I believe most women have felt in their lifetime, and I have no doubt that all the young women I care about have also felt it. When we are labeled as too much, bossy, brassy, and not feminine enough, we often find ourselves becoming smaller, shrinking our influence, agency, ambition, drive, and talents. This often leads us to imposter syndrome where we think we don’t measure up. We then start to second guess our instincts and minimize the character traits that reflect our creator.

Years ago, my husband had a meeting with some people and the subject of me came up. I had been feeling for a while that I was doing something wrong and felt like I was being pushed out of what I deemed the inner circle. Terry directly asked if there was an issue with me. The people in the meeting immediately said no, but one person qualified that sometimes, “Sherry can be too much.” They continued, implying that I can swoop in and get a job done, almost making the “too much” more palatable. But clearly, no one in the room but my husband believed this was a good trait.

Later, when I heard that I was “too much”, I instantly felt swallowed by shame. Hadn’t I written prayers time and time again in my journal asking God to help me be meek and mild? Hadn’t I come to this same group, bearing my soul in one of the worst moments in my life, and pursuing God with humility? Hadn’t I become smaller, hiding my natural extroverted inclinations to fit in with this group? Apparently, despite my best efforts, I was still “too much.” At that point, I was still desperately trying to fit in, so instead of affirming that my “too much” was enough for God, I did the opposite. I became smaller by being less talkative, less present, less involved, and less joyful.

There is one woman in the Bible who did not shrink in a time of need. Esther and her people were facing total annihilation. At first, when confronted by her cousin Mordecai to address the king, Esther started to shrink. Yes, she was the queen, but she still had to submit to the king. Boldly approaching his throne without being called for might lead to her own death. But Mordecai challenged her with these words found in Esther 4:14, “For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this.”  Esther thought about what he said, and replied with a plan, ending with “and if I perish, I perish.”

Esther decided to go big and be who she was called to be, realizing that shrinking will lead to certain death, but the unknown gave her agency, allowing her to call the shots. By being who God called her to be, she was able to command the king’s attention and save her people and herself. I wonder how many of us women have shrunk in times we were needed because of what others have said about us, and how that leads to us slowly dying inside, never fully living the life we are called into.

In the circle that thought I was “too much”, I was slowly dying and becoming less of who I am. But I am no longer in that circle and have found a safe place to be all that God has called me to be. Yes, I still have character traits that must be balanced and smoothed out. But God’s guidance will help me fully be the woman He created.

I need to talk more about these issues with my friends. When I hear a woman being labeled, I should challenge the speaker with grace, trying to expose how these labels constrict, damage, and restrict women. I also need to address my own complicity in the problem, making sure I don’t fall into the trap of labeling others. I can encourage young women to be exactly who God made them, growing in true inward holiness. This will help #AccelerateAction in removing gender biases.

Sometimes, we need extra food coloring to make things right. Sometimes we need to turn insults into something positive like Lindsay Rush does in her poetry. But we always need women to operate exactly as they were designed; not labeled in a way that brings death but brings life.

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Do I Deserve the Guacamole?

“Whatever is good and perfect comes comes down to us from God our Father, who created all lights in the heavens.” James 1:17 NLT

I discovered guacamole way too late in life. Tony, a friend of mine who has lived in Arizona for many years, made the dish about 17 years ago at his mother’s holiday gathering in Wisconsin. The vibrant green stood out against the platters of brown and yellow: summer sausage, crackers, and cheese. I had recently discovered avocado at a local restaurant where it was added to a grilled cheese, elevating an ordinary sandwich with a fresh grassy note and a creamy texture. I couldn’t wait to try avocados in other ways, so I was magnetically drawn to the guacamole. My first bite transported me from the cold, bitter Wisconsin winter of slush and brown snow to a land of perpetual sunshine where I could feel the warm breezes whisper their song against my body. I had to know the secret to this magic green delight.

I asked Tony for the recipe, hoping to replicate this at home as soon as possible. Tony shared that he had mashed avocados with fresh lime juice and salt. He then folded in fresh tomatoes and onions. Finally, he added chopped cilantro, and adjusted the seasonings as needed. It sounded so simple, and within a day, I was buying the ingredients. My first batch wasn’t perfect, but after many attempts, I, too, was making the transformative guacamole for myself, adding it to our famous Collins’ fajita dinner. But for many years, when I went out for Southwestern or Mexican food, I refused to pay extra for guacamole. It may have been partially because our budget was tight, but it ran deeper. And this “not paying extra for guacamole” showed up in all sorts of ways in my life. It showed up in the old, tattered clothes I kept in my closet, or when I made all the cookies my family liked, putting the raspberry Linzers that I loved last on the list. It showed up during a vacation where I spent all my time cooking and cleaning, feeling resentful inside while everyone else was having a great time. The underlying reason for all of this was I didn’t feel I deserved the extras that made life joyful. After all, wasn’t I Christian? Shouldn’t my only joy be found in serving Christ and benefiting the kingdom of God?

The Bible emphasizes throughout scripture that we are to be servants; humble and loving our neighbors as ourselves. When we contrast that with what fills our social media feeds, secular magazine articles, and podcasts, the differences seem to be in direct opposition. The memes about mommies needing wine time, and the self-care movement, along with the need to set aside “Me-Time” seem rooted in selfishness, indulgence, and pride. Often, these messages cause us to pivot the other direction where we perceive ourselves to be selfless, sacrificial, and humble. But in the last few years, I have been asking myself: is that pivot to the opposite end of the spectrum really what God was calling for? Do we really understand the principles of God, or are we trying to measure things according to standards rooted in Puritanical thinking that set an unrealistically high bar? Did God really object to me splurging on guacamole? And why do I use the word splurge? Is that word itself implying extravagance that I don’t deserve?

I think the key to all these answers is what is in my heart and how I perceive God. The Bible clearly recognizes the importance of self-care. Jesus himself departed from the crowds occasionally to refuel and recharge himself. This sets an example for us to make sure we get adequate rest and recognize our limitations. I am consistently reminded of the importance of rest because my Rheumatoid Arthritis causes inflammation in my joints when I am too busy and not taking care of myself. I also recognize that I am not the person who should help someone move because of my physical limitations. Instead, I can bring a meal to a family after they have moved. But self-care becomes indulgence when I know I could help with something and make excuses as to why I can’t: I’m too busy, it’s a big ask, or I’ll wait to see if someone else volunteers.

There may be seasons where I am too busy, but I must ask myself some hard questions before I determine how busy I am: how much time do I spend reading or watching or scrolling?  None of those things are bad, but it may inform me how well I manage my time. I also must ask myself if I’m only helping when it is convenient in my schedule? Finally, if I am waiting for someone else to volunteer, there is a strong chance that someone won’t, and maybe the whisper I am hearing is God calling me to an act of service.

Loving my neighbor, as exemplified by the Good Samaritan, is sometimes a big ask in relation to our resources and time. The Samaritan saw a Jewish man lying on the road, beaten and barely holding on to life. The Bible says the Samaritan had compassion, which in Greek was the word splagchnixomai. It truly is a fun word to pronounce, with an interesting definition. It implies that he was moved with a deep compassion from his bowels. This doesn’t mean you contort your face like you are constipated to demonstrate your compassion. The bowels were considered the seat of your mercy and pity. This compassion was so deep, it moved the Samaritan to action. He bandaged the man, cleaning up the dirt and blood caked on the man’s body. He took him into the city, stayed with him overnight and paid the bill for the man’s expenses until the man was healed. He did not do this because he was obligated and checked off the boxes for being a good Samaritan. Instead, he took care of this man because he had empathy for the man’s vulnerability. When I serve out of obligation, I am no different than the Levite or the Priest that passed by. I am exactly like the Pharisees bragging about my gifts before God. But when I love my neighbors as God calls me to, I will be moved with compassion to action. There is no indication that the Samaritan checked his schedule to see if he had the time to care for the man on the roadside. There is no record that he had an abundant bank balance. Instead, he loved his neighbor well because he coupled his empathy with action. If I am truly seeking the kingdom of God, there will be times I will be moved with compassion to love my neighbor well, and I won’t count the cost. I will act decisively with a heart towards my neighbor’s vulnerability. But when I am resentful of serving, that’s an indication that my heart is not in the right place.

As a Christian, we need to position ourselves in humility, but does this mean we don’t deserve good things? The answer to that question has a lot to do with what I believe about God and myself. I would like to say that I drew this conclusion freely, but I struggled with finding the right answer, and I phoned a pastor friend, Mike Kemper, who helped me examine this rightly. Mike reminded me that we have a good God who promised the Hebrews a land that flowed with milk and honey, “not water and protein powder.” God gives us good gifts, and for me that may mean guacamole and the means to afford it. When I receive a good gift from God, I can express my gratitude like David and so many of the psalmists did. It reminds me that my God is generous with His goodness and mercy. When I get into a place where I feel like I deserve something, I start to elevate myself and move into the position of the provider. It places me at the center, instead of God.

So, where does this leave me with the guacamole, tattered clothes, raspberry Linzers and the endless meal preparation when I am on vacation. First, I am the daughter of a good Father who wants to lavish blessings on me. If I remain in a place of gratitude and live within my means, I think the extra $2.75 for guacamole is just fine. He created me to love the mixture of avocado with lime and the right genes to enjoy the fresh taste of cilantro, unlike my husband who thinks it tastes like soap. I don’t think God expects me to stay in tattered clothing, but I also need to balance that with contentment and an eye on my budget. Going into debt for fashion, furniture, cars, or anything is an indication that I don’t trust God. It’s okay to make a cookie you like during the holidays, that also brings festivity to the platter without artificial colors. It also means I need to voice my own desires for a vacation, where I am not in the kitchen all the time, and where I am getting the same rest and rejuvenation everyone else is getting.

“Yes, please, I want the guacamole!” will be my answer for the near future! (Unless we get into a trade war with Mexico, where tariffs make avocados a luxury item! But that is a totally different discussion.)

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Atmosphere

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31

A few days ago, I woke with the sun peeking through my curtains. Clad in my pajamas, I headed downstairs to see that frost had blanketed the lawn, while the cool crisp air from outside had seeped into my home. Shivering, I adjusted the heat, covered up with one of my cozy throws, and opened my Bible. The heat kicked in, and the rising sun lit the room with a warm glow. But something didn’t quite feel right, and I knew instantly what was wrong. The icy fingers of the silence snatched away any warmth supplied by the throws, the sun, or the heat. I knew it was time to start filling the home with joyous Christmas music, and I knew just where to start. I asked Alexa to play “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” by The Piano Guys. Instantly, the mellow notes of the cello filled the room with hope, soon followed by the tinkling notes of the piano, giving the hope wings.  The atmosphere changed as peace and joy flooded my home and my soul.

It has been two weeks since the cacophony of the election ads, accusations from both sides, and shouts of despair have quieted. The polls have closed, and with that, ended one of our nation’s most tumultuous elections. Some who read these words spent the next day rejoicing, while others were in despair. I have had a lot of thoughts about this election, and how as a Christian I personally felt called to vote. I know my views were in direct opposition to many of my friends and surprised some on the other side. I have no intention of justifying my reasons or trying to persuade others of the wisdom of my decision. I can say that I thoughtfully prayed, listened carefully to some people I respect on the issues, and cast my vote, confident of making the right choice for my faith.

The biggest takeaway from the election is not about who was right and who was wrong. No one on either side can say in truth that God favored the winner and frowned upon the loser. They only thing we can definitively say is that God is in control. It’s also not important for me to lay out my own personal interpretation of why one candidate won and the other lost. I will leave that analysis to Tim Alberta, David French, and Sarah Steward Holland and Beth Silvers from Pant Suit Politics, a new independent podcast I have discovered. The real takeaway is this: how do I, as a Christian, move forward in our nation, sharing the peace, joy, and hope that I feel in Christ? How can I create an atmosphere that others of different beliefs can feel and maybe experience?

God prioritizes creating the right atmosphere. Eden was full of different fruits, plants, and animals, creating a beautifully diverse world. Later, God set up his tabernacle appealing to all our senses. He charged designers to carefully craft intricately carved gold furnishings. He had curtains carefully woven so that visually they told a story. Candles burned eternally, creating a place of reverence and light. He used special ingredients for the incense whose scent would distinctly remind visitors that this was the place where God dwelled. The sound of prayers offered up to God were heard throughout the tabernacle. Even the sense of taste was used in the tabernacle, when the priests ate the shewbread every Sabbath, reminding us that we need to come to God regularly for our daily needs.

Beyond the tabernacle, the New Testament exemplifies Jesus using His senses to minister to other’s needs. He saw the disreputable tax collector, Zacchaeus, hiding in a tree, and invited Himself over to Zacchaeus’ home. Virtue flowed out of Jesus when the hemorrhaging woman grasped His robe. His hands molded dirt with spit and placed this poultice on the eyes of a blind person to bring sight. He heard His disciples’ cries during an epic storm, responding to their fears by defying all scientific principles, calming the storm with His command. He ignored the scent of Lazarus’s decaying body, bringing life back to His friend.

As a Christian, I am called to be a witness for Christ by being a peacemaker, speaking truth with love, and glorifying God in everything I do. I can model myself after Jesus by engaging my senses to minister to those around me. Like Jesus, I can keep my eyes open for those who are marginalized and invite them over dinner. Showing hospitality opens doors for conversations with others who may not think or believe the way I do. I can pay attention to those who are in desperate situations and reaching out for help by acknowledging their identity in Christ. Jesus called the hemorrhaging woman His daughter, inviting her into relationship with Him. When I recognize everyone as being created in the image of God, respect should flow from me to them with my conversation and social medial posts. I can use my hands to minister to those who are in need by making meals, writing cards, or cleaning someone’s home when needed. When people feel stressed by what’s going on in the world, I can offer peace by remaining calm and listening to their concerns. Finally, when the stench of controversy and divisiveness floods social media and dinner tables, I can quietly turn the conversations back toward life by addressing the hard issues, and by acknowledging what Jesus cared about most: making broken people whole.

This doesn’t mitigate my concerns for the next four years. I have concerns that some potential cabinet candidates with checkered pasts relating to sexual misconduct and assault will silence victims and empower perpetrators by giving them legitimacy. I believe in strong borders but am concerned about the consequences mass deportation would have on those who are desperately trying to have a better life. Labeling immigrants, legal or not, as “not humans” or “Hannibal Lectors” denies the fact that all people are created in the image of God. I believe in the sanctity of life, but it goes far beyond a baby in the womb. I do not believe the incoming administration will offer support to single mothers by extending childcare credits or offering decent health insurance. And my list continues. But staying in a constant state of worry doesn’t move the dial forward toward solutions on any of the issues. Instead, I need to do my part whenever and wherever I can. I also can work toward being a peacemaker in my own circles.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Menus have been planned; turkeys will soon start their journey toward juicy, brown goodness; and pumpkin pie dreams fill my grandchildren’s heads. Often, our tables are full of people we love, but who think or believe differently than we do. I will sit at many tables during this holiday season where people think differently than I do. I am sure some of the conversations around the table will cross political lines. For me, I am going to try to create an atmosphere around these tables that represents Jesus, sharing the hope, peace, and joy I feel. These will always remain no matter who is president.

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Prologue: Sunshine

“See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” 1 John 3:1

It was a Saturday morning when God ushered a healing moment into my life. It didn’t happen with me crying at the altar, pouring my heart out to the Lord, although moments have happened there. It didn’t happen with me coming to a revelation while engaged in professional counseling, although at times it has happened there. It didn’t happen with me finding a scripture and dissecting it till it imprinted meaning on my life, although it has happened there, too. Instead, it happened on an ordinary morning where I was unexpectedly graced with the Lord’s gift of restoration.

My husband, Terry, had had a busy week at work and at church. I can’t recall the exact details of what was going on. It could have been late nights due to overtime, or maybe he was working on putting some music together for choir, but whatever the reasons, my 4-year-old blond-haired, blue-eyed daughter, Maggie, had felt slightly neglected by her father. She had been playing quietly on the floor when her dad stepped into the room. She pleaded with her soft, sweet voice saying, “Daddy, can you please sit down by me?” He quickly plopped on the floor next to this child that we called our sunshine. She sat across from him and said, “Daddy, I’ve missed you. Can you please just hold my hands?” Terry gently took his large man hands and held the dainty hands of our daughter for a few moments, just gazing with love and wonderment in his eyes. He then quietly whispered the words “I love you,” and she beamed with joy, her mouth smiling widely, causing her eyes to crinkle.

Maggie and Terry on her wedding day!

At that exact moment, I felt God’s peace flood my soul. In Philippians 4:7 (ESV), scripture describes this as “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding.” I felt God whispering to me that this is an example of the beautiful relationship He intended all daughters to have with their fathers. It is the relationship He, as my Heavenly Father, intended for me, His daughter, to have with Him. He continued to whisper that He was going to use my daughter’s relationship with her father to demonstrate to me what He intended. My daughter’s healthy relationship with her father would provide restoration for my troubled and ugly childhood. No, it would not erase my memories of what had happened. No, it would not make everything better. No, it would not answer all the why’s in my life. But He would take the brokenness in my life and continue the work of restoring me. He would show me how much He had loved me even when I was being abused and neglected by the man I called my father. He would show me the beauty of restoration.