World Changers pt. 5...

Again, if you want to read this series from the beginning start here.

From left to right: Nic, Kenny, and Tommy- three of my favorite people on the planet

I have to begin with honesty and say that this isn't the first blog devoted to Tommy Klug and I cannot guarantee that it will be the last. So if you want to know more about why I love that little man so much you can start here. 

Tonight as I was thinking through who I wanted to write about next I found myself staring at the wall in my room. On this particular wall is a bulletin board and on that board are the most recent school pictures for the boys above. As I began thinking about the different people who have changed my life I realized that not another minute could go by without writing about these boys (and their mom and dad- but let's be honest Jeff and Amy are just not as adorable so they don't get top billing)...

Can I just put it all out there for a second? Is that ok? Gosh, I hope so.

Someday when I'm looking back on my life I really only want to be able to say three things about it. (1) I want to look back and be able to say that I loved and was loved- deeply, passionately, and with lots of laughter. I want to be able to say that I had a partner who walked with me through the hard stuff and the good stuff.

(2) I want to look back and be able to say that I was a mom. I want to have made lunches and wiped noses. I want to have checked under the bed for monsters and grounded a teenager (ok maybe that last one I could be willing to give up). 

(3) I want to look back on my life and know that I was faithful to my Lord. I want to see a life that did its very best to walk in step with Christ.

Now I've written here before about some of the reasons why #1 and #2 seem like faraway dreams. I am truly not being pessimistic when I say- I no longer believe that I'm promised a husband or kids. I just don't think that everybody gets those gifts. It has taken me a very, very long time to get ok with that. And there are nights when I'm not ok. There are nights when a little voice creeps into my heart and starts whispering about how my worth is tied up in those things and that I will be alone forever. That voice SUCKS! Ugh! I hate it. But I seem to always let it in and it wrecks major havoc on my soul. I'm cleaning up after it for weeks. 

BUT (isn't it great that there is always a but) on good days, on days when I have myself together enough to listen to God's voice, I hear the sound of Tommy's laughter, I see Nic's elusive smile, and I can still smell Kenny's magical "new baby" smell. These boys and their parents mean so much to me. First and most importantly, because they are family. Jeff and Amy are people who I would walk through fire for. I love them and I will be in their corner always. But these boys- these boys are walking reminders of the promises of God. 

Tommy reminds me that God does not leave us without hope. When I think of the story of how he came into Jeff and Amy's family I am always left feeling a sense of warmth. During a time of extreme grief and sorrow God was preparing Jeff and Amy's hearts for Tommy- reminding them that no child can be replaced and no loss can be forgotten, but we are not left without hope. 

Nic reminds me that God is faithful. When I think about all that this little boy faces I get this picture in my mind of Amy sitting next to him- watching him sleep. I have no idea if she actually does this, but I see the image anyway. I think of how tirelessly she fights for her boy. I think about the love that Amy has for Nic and it reminds me that God is also faithful with us.

Kenny reminds me that God understands the trajectory of our lives so much more clearly than we ever could. Kenny's birth is a marker for me- a reminder that even when I think I see the path ahead completely, there is always a new turn I wasn't expecting. 

These three little men brighten my day and I don't even get to see them that much. But they have changed my world- just by living in theirs and when I open valentines cards that they've made me or watch a Facebook video of them playing I remember these important lessons. The Klug family continue to teach me that I can hope and dream and wish because I am not forgotten by my God. What a powerful gift that is.

World Changers pt. 4....

"There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires." -Nelson Mandela

Have you ever felt like you know someone so well that sometimes you hear their voice speaking softly to you? Have you ever felt that way about someone you've never met? If not, than I'm not sure you are really going to understand this post because what I have to say about Nelson Mandela is personal and intimate and leaves me feeling vulnerable. Yes, Nelson Mandela is a World changer, I think there aren't many who would disagree with me on that. But Nelson Mandela is in this particular blog series because of how I hear his voice speaking softly to me.

I was fourteen the first time I heard the word "apartheid" and the person I heard it from was Mel Gibson. I was watching Lethal Weapon 2 for the first time and South Africa happened to be a major plot point. I had no idea what was going on. I was embarrassingly ignorant. I suppose many fourteen year olds are. I didn't think much of this word that I didn't understand, but God filed it away in my heart for later. Four years ticked by and I found myself standing on the greenest mountain I had ever seen, looking out at South Africa- a country that would fundamentally define me.

Me and the wonderful humans that I traipsed around Africa with in 2002.

While I was in South Africa I fell in love- madly, deeply, permanently with everything and everyone I encountered. So when I returned stateside I started to read everything I could about this country that meant so much to me. Among the various books and articles was Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela. And it was there among the pages of Mandela's life that we met. It was there that I first discovered the heart and strength of a man who I had never met and it was there that he changed my world. 

I found so many things inspirational about the life that Nelson Mandela lived. I'm sure many people do. As one of the leaders for racial equality and justice in South Africa he affected countless lives. But he changed my world because of something we don't learn about in school. When I read his memoir I was struck that he didn't shine his life up before presenting it to the world. He was honest, sometimes brutally so, about the way he grew up, the mistakes he made, and the regrets he had. He wasn't trying to present the world with the perfect legend that they could build their house upon- he was just writing his story and that story was messy. He wasn't a perfect man, but that didn't mean God couldn't use him to move mountains. 

In 2009 I traveled back to South Africa for the third time. On this particular trip I had the immense honor of visiting Robbin Island (the prison that Mandela was held in during his 27 years of unjust capture). Today on Robbin Island the guides are men that were actually imprisoned during apartheid. They walk you through the facility telling you their story of the fight for justice. I cannot express how powerful that is. I do not have words for it. I was mesmerized by these men. My brain and heart just couldn't fathom how they put one foot in front of the other after the injustice they faced. Towards the end of my tour our group ended up in front of Nelson Mandela's cell. Here was the tiny room he lived in for almost all of those 27 years. Here he lived- protesting the injustice of his people. Here he lived- caged up like an animal because his voice and his strength terrified those in power. Here he lived- with poise and strength. 

Mandela's cell

I walked into that cell and stood there for what felt like hours. Tears poured down my face as I touched the bars and looked out the window. I had church in that small cell that day. As I walked back into the yard and felt the cold, African breeze whip by my face I heard Mandela's voice in my heart for the first time. I heard his voice asking me what I was willing to do when it came to the battle for what is right. I heard him asking me if I would stand up even if it cost me everything. Today when I find that fear is taking me over and I don't know how to overcome it I close my eyes and I hear that voice. I see the bars and I feel the cold, loneliness of isolation. I hear Nelson Mandela asking me to stand up. This man- he changed my life by living his with strength and courage.

The following is the speech that Mandela gave on the day he was released from jail. Watch it and let yourself be challenged to live with courage. 

Nelson Mandela's Release in 1990

World Changers pt. 3...

If you want to start this series from the beginning than start here.

Peter Remington Dunn is one of my favorite human beings. There's a lot of reasons for that. He is funny and creative. He's never afraid to say what he thinks and he asks a lot of good questions. He also has managed to find one of the most beautiful, witty, caring women in the world and convinced her to marry him (rumor has it that his dance moves cannot be ignored). So basically Peter's living the high life. I am proud to be Peter's friend, but that's not why he is one of my world changers. He gets his own blogpost because he is my pastor and as my pastor he is teaching me to really see the world around me.

Peter pastors the evening service at our church. It is a rag-tag group of weirdos- college students, men and women in their early-mid thirties, a couple families, the elderly, and at least 1/3 of our congregation is made-up of local men and women who are homeless. I'm not sure how we all came together, but here we are walking in together every Sunday evening. We meet in the original sanctuary of our church which has been changed into the gym or youth room. The space itself represents our service well- it's messy and smattered with DIY projects, but somehow it feels like home. Although our service is an off-shoot of the larger congregation in a lot of ways we feel like our own church. 

I've spent a lot of time thinking about what makes our service special because honestly we are not reinventing the wheel. There's a time of prayer before we begin, worship music, a sermon, coffee, and "greet your neighbor". I mean, let's be honest, these are the basic evangelical ingredients since the dawn of time. But there is something about the way we mix these ingredients together that makes me feel like I'm tasting a brand-new concoction. 

Now look I know the biggest and most important aspect of our church is that God is moving and breathing and directing our steps. We are just dirt until he picks us up and breathes life upon us. BUT one of the ways that God interacts with us is through Peter. Peter is the best kind of pastor. He trusts the Spirit within him to move mountains, but he doesn't want anyone giving him the credit when the rocks start to roll. He looks into an empty space and he sees life in it. He sees how to set lighting and use music and media to engage his church. But he doesn't believe that a particular slide is going to transform someone's life. He wants to collaborate. He wants to hear new ideas and brainstorm through the old ones. All of those are reasons why Peter makes a great facilitator for our church, but it isn't why he is our pastor. 

Peter is our pastor because he challenges us to see Christ's movement in the world. He sees each and every one of us in our seats and he knows that if we offer our lives to Christ there is nothing stopping us from changing the world. Peter believes that the Church exists to provide for spiritual needs and physical ones. That means he doesn't just plan a sermon, he also finds ways to live that sermon out. So for example, last night he preached about the gift that is Jesus in a manger, and he bought a new tent for one the homeless members in our church. He crafts a series on community and then he facilitates community meals so that we gather together and get to know each other. Peter sees the unseen and he hears the voiceless. He cares deeply for the oppressed and disenfranchised and he shows that compassion by living his life in a way that loves- always. Peter is never going to be the guy that just buys a hipster beanie because the company gives to charity. Now don't get me wrong, he will rock that beanie with every hipster bone in his body- but he will wear it while actually serving his community. 

I learn something new everyday from my friend, my colleague, and my pastor. Peter truly is changing the world and I can't wait to see what happens next.

World Changers pt. 2...

Author's Note: Continuing the series of men and women who have changed my life. To read from the beginning start here.

When I was ten years old I read the book Zlata's Diary. Zlata was a young girl who lived in Sarajevo during the war in 1992. She was inspired to keep a journal after reading The Diary of Anne Frank. Eventually her diary was turned into a book and I found it on a shelf at my elementary school's library. Zlata's story captured me. To this day I don't really understand what it was about Zlata that I was so consumed by, but her story sparked something in my heart that would define the woman I was going to become.

As a ten year old I saw a lot of myself in Zlata. In fact as I looked at her picture on the back of the book I thought we even looked a bit alike. She was only a few years older than me and even though we lived on different sides of the world, we were both just girls. She kept a diary and so did I. Even though many of her entries were a place that she worked out the pain and trauma of living in a war zone, there were plenty of entries about life. She wrote about her family and her cat. She wrote about her favorite foods and her birthday wishes. In many ways my diary was a mirror image of hers. 

When I finished the book, I had to read it again. And as I reread the pages of one girl's fear and terror I grew more and more convinced that I had to do something. So I wrote a letter to President Clinton, asking him to help Zlata and her family. Even at ten I was convinced that my government could save the day. A few weeks went by and as far as I could see nothing was changing. This frustrated me. So I  thought maybe more people needed to hear Zlata's words. I was convinced that if someone else could read her book or learn her story they would be just as passionate as I was about helping her.

Around this time I was competing in a speech contest with my school. I decided that my speech had to be about Zlata. I wrote up what my 10-year-old brain thought was the perfect snapshot of Zlata's story and I knew that as my teachers and friends heard about Zlata they would want to help bring about change. My little speech kept winning round after round and in a few weeks I found myself at the district-level contest. On the night of the contest I stood up at the podium and as fervently as I could, I talked about Zlata. I read her actual words and I spoke about how unforgivable it was that I was a girl with the freedom to play in my yard or walk to my friend's house and Zlata was hiding in her house, cowering from air raids and hungry because of the lack of food. I urged the people in front of me to care- to care that a little girl they didn't know wasn't getting the chance to live her life. 

I'm not sure that my speech really made any difference. I went home with second place and my first dose of cynicism. But I'm so glad that I "met" Zlata through the pages of her diary. Her life marked something important in me. Her life stood as a reminder that there are always those living with less, struggling with pain and hurt, and attempting to walk through traumas. Some of those people are easy to love because they look like us or we know them. But some of those people don't fit into a neat box. 

Zlata's courage in the face of such devastation was the first time that I saw how important standing up with others is. In her diary Zlata often wrote about how lonely she was. She wondered if anyone cared about what was happening to her city. She struggled, because she felt alone. Those words imprinted themselves on my heart and I decided right then that I would never ignore the hurts and brokenness I saw around me. I decided that I wanted to help. Zlata may have felt alone in Sarajevo and in so many ways she was. But her words inspired and transformed a little girl in America and for that I am eternally grateful. I want to end this post with Zlata's own words about war and resistance. Let them inspire you with courage of your own...

"I keep thinking about the march I joined today. Its bigger and stronger than war. That's why it will win. The people must be the ones to win, not the war, because war has nothing to do with humanity. War is something inhuman."

World Changers...

I've had a writing project on my mind for the last few weeks and I've finally finished finals so it seems the time is NOW! I've been inspired by an advent devotional that a powerhouse of a woman has been writing (find it here) and I want to do something similar. 

In my life I have been blessed by people who continue to teach me, to challenge me, and to help form me into the person I am today. As they say, no one is an island and even though that's totally a cliche- it happens to be true. I want to devote some blog space to the people who I admire- who teach me what it means to walk around on this earth with intentionality. So... all that to say, the next few entries I'll be profiling the world changers who I love, some I know personally and some I just admire from a distance (not in a creepy way). 

Here we go...

Sarah Keough is my best friend. We met in August a few years ago at orientation for seminary. We were placed in the same small group and the rest is history. Sarah and I bonded over our mutual distrust of authority and our very real, very vibrant love of stupid television shows. Sarah is truly one of the greats, and here's why...

In addition to being beautiful and funny and fiercely loyal Sarah happens to be smart. I'm not talking "I did ok on the SATs" smart, I'm talking "better put her in the bunker if the world blows up because we need her brain and also her heart" smart. Sarah sees the world like no one I know. She sees God's hand in it. She sees nooks and crannies that the rest of us are blowing by. Sarah takes in details and finds ways to weave them together that are so unique and so beautiful that you just want to cry and build a monument in their honor.

I have learned so much from Sarah. I have learned that it is ok to take time to really think something through before running my mouth or finding a solution. I have learned to find the systems in place that take advantage of others and to fight like hell to dismantle them. I have learned that waiting for someone else to stand up before I do is cowardice. 

I love this sister of mine. Sarah is going to change the world with her voice and her heart and her brain. I love that I have a front row seat for it and I'm going to be cheering her on every step of the way. 

Also side note: I love that she is going to hate this blog post because it's gushy and about her and she is going to be so embarrassed. Unfortunately for her, my desire to brag about her outweighs her desire to not be written about.