I’ve noticed how hard it is to initiate any kind of relationship, even when there’s genuine interest. I think we’re largely not great at it. And to be fair, there’s a lot of good reason for that.

Before meeting Cam, I had set myself apart for a period of time, intentionally turning away from those possibilities. I even prayed that God would hide me for a while. It was a sincere prayer. I knew what I needed but didn’t know how to do it by myself. So I was really depending on Him to help me. Meeting Cam a couple years later was jolting and surprising. I liked him a lot. But I had learned a lot as well. Learned a lot about myself.

I learned in my relationship with Jesus, He was the initiator, and I was the responder. So as my conversations with Cam progressed and I was experiencing all the feels, I remember confiding in a friend and we prayed. I asked the Lord to make things clear. I asked the Lord that Cam would lead and I wouldn’t have to guess. I wanted to be the responder, not the initiator, just like I was with Him.

Love is not without risk, but there’s a big difference in responding to someone who made their intentions plain, than ruminating over what everything means and trying hard to set the right impressions and worrying about every little thing. Guarding your heart isn’t about never being vulnerable. It’s about using wisdom, choosing how you will move when you have good information.

I decided right then during that prayer that I would keep my heart diligently. It would remain in Jesus. I wasn’t going to be the pursuer. And that was an incredible blessing as my friendship with Cam progressed. Shortly thereafter, Cam called me one night and Jesus answered my prayer in a profound way. Cam laid his heart out clearly. I didn’t have to guess how he felt or what he was thinking. He knew he wanted marriage and he asked if I would allow him to get to know my kids. I remember him saying, “I want them to trust me, and that’s going to take time and consistency.” I was in awe. Grateful is a weak way to describe how I felt in the year that followed.

This is one of the reasons dating is hard. It’s easy to understand why so many are discouraged and weary because it feels like you’re working hard for love without good results. I encounter so many people who’ve completely given up on meeting someone. Some have even given up on church. Feeling burned out by tradition and religion, always feeling like God or goodness is just something that’s not attainable….this is a sign you’ve become the initiator.

That devotion time you obsess over, feeling like you never get right, it may come when you allow Jesus to lead. Those things you’ve longed for, hiding them in your heart, only lifting them in silent cries, they become fulfilled first in Him, then often show up when you least expect them to and in the most unpredictable ways. Become that which you seek. Become whole. You will never regret that. Never. It’s attractive and magnetic and contagious, enabling others to also.

It’s way easier to respond to someone loving you than working tirelessly to convince someone they should.

Meghan Phelps-Roper calls it, Engaging the Other. Martin Luther King called it, his Dream. My husband might call it, Fighting Fair. Jesus called it Unity. I don’t care what you call it, but we NEED friends (yes, FRIENDS) on all sides of the table.

When my husband does something that gets under my skin, it’s usually because I don’t understand why he did it. When he tells the kids yes to something I would have said no to, it’s usually because he had a reason for it. Asking him why he did something and why he made a choice is always our doorway to understanding each other better. Once I understand him, even if we don’t always agree, our relationship becomes stronger and it makes our home more peaceful because at least I can see how he got there.

Can’t we do this with our friends, our peers, our colleagues? Jen Hatmaker recently said, “We are as lost from our own gospel as we’ve ever been while screaming at everyone else that we are the only ones “found”… Why would anyone listen to any of us?” I don’t entirely disagree with her. This just won’t work. Something is inherently wrong when a difference of opinion can provoke us to being blind to another’s humanity.

My heart bleeds knowing that in many ways we’re responsible for losing our own credibility. Unity doesn’t mean uniformity. Oneness doesn’t mean sameness. We can choose togetherness without always seeing eye to eye. Our life experiences that lead us to where we are politically, religiously, and culturally, are as unique as our fingerprints. Similar, yet vastly different. If we’re surrounded by people who only reinforce what we think we already know, we are doing ourselves, and our community, a huge disservice. We can do better, the world is watching.

Remember, when it comes to conflict, whoever LOVES the most, wins.

Yesterday…

15 minutes after the bell rang, a young man in my class slapped another one and a fight ensued. My mom adrenaline took over and without processing, I jumped right in the middle of it and pushed one away from the other and sent one out of the class immediately. I think it was out of regard for me it dissipated. I walked the other to the office, gave a report, and moved on with the day.

A little later, I was talking to a table working on a group project. I asked 2 young men what they want to do after high school. They both said they didn’t know. Then, one of them said, “All I know is I won’t be no businessman.” I asked him why. He said, “I just know I won’t make it. Not the way me and my brothers are.” So, I responded. Forget about what you want to do. What kind of man do you want to be? The whole table got quiet. One finally said, “What do you mean, Mrs.?” I said, well, what you do matters, but who you are matters much more. To that he said, I don’t know how to answer that.

I said, Do you want to be kind? Gentle? A man of integrity? Someone the people you love can trust? They looked down for a moment, then asked what integrity meant. We had a nice, brief dialogue about that. A few moments later, they told me they didn’t know what to say, but they would think about it and tell me later. A win in my book.

At lunch the same day, another student, my sweet little Muslim friend, came into my room just before lunch crying. She’s often picked on for her faith and for wearing her hijab. She told me what some girls said to her and wanted to call her dad to go home. I just listened to her. When she got really upset, I hugged her, and she cried in my arms. When she calmed down, I told her how brave and courageous she is for showing up authentically in a culture that isn’t her own and how much she teaches me just by being who she is. Some tears fell again, but softly and with a smile on her face this time.

When I was preparing for the role of teaching, I asked the Lord to help me remember my 7th grade year. And after a few days I was frustrated that I couldn’t remember anything. Not one assignment, not one project. Just a few interactions with my favorite teacher and meeting my best friend, Candice. That’s when the light bulb came on. That was it.

If my students won’t remember our explicit vocabulary routine or the fun group projects I come up with, then what will they remember? They might remember me. They might remember they felt enjoyed and celebrated in my classroom. They might remember that I really cared. Not just about their education but also everything it means to be them.

The gift of walking with Jesus is knowing that you’re in the will of God no matter where you find yourself. I dealt with years of inner discontent and turmoil believing all my time at home with the kids was keeping me from something else. Now I know beyond any shadow of doubt it was my training ground. Heaven shows up in every interaction if we have eyes to see it. I don’t have to go anywhere or strive for anything. There are people everywhere, just steps away, who need the love I have to give. And what an abundant life of giving it is. So, so grateful.

This picture stopped me in my tracks.

There’s so many things I want to write about. Accept this as your official disclaimer for all the lengthy posts you will see in the days ahead.

I had a dream about 15 years ago that I’ve told several people about over the years.

I was walking with a friend in a wooded, mountainous area at sunset. As we were walking, the Lord approached us from behind. He was in human form, but I knew it was him. He told us to look out beyond a cliff, pointing in that direction. I could see the top of another mountain in the distance and even make out some details. It was pretty far for hiking, but close enough to see some of it clearly. It looked as though the sun was just getting ready to go down. As he pointed, he showed us he was holding a camera and said, “Run now. Go to the top of that mountain. I want to take a picture of you.” I responded, “But the sun is setting, I don’t think we can make it before dark.”

Before I could even finish that sentence, the friend I was with started running as fast as she could. And I remember thinking instinctively…RUN, STEPHANIE. JUST RUN!

It seemed impossible. There was even a river between where I was and the other side. But my friend gave me confidence and inspired me to go for it. So I just started running. I ran and ran and ran. I don’t know how I made it and I lost my friend along the way. Matter of fact, she disappeared. Dreams are strange that way.

But I made it. And when I made it to the top of the other side I was overcome with emotion. Somehow, I did it. I was completely out of breath, trying to get control of myself, yet feeling pure joy and exhilaration at the same time. Separated now by all that was between us, I shouted at the top of my lungs to God, “I made it! I made it! Can you believe it? I made it!!” Still breathing heavy, I threw my hands up in the air and started crying. It seemed an act of worship. It felt like the most natural response in that moment. And just like the Lord said, he took a picture of me.

In the mysterious nature of dreams, He immediately appeared next to me right after taking the photo. Showing me the picture he took, I was stunned. It was dusk outside, just enough light to see my silhouette. And with my arms stretched out on the top of that mountain, I looked exactly like Jesus on the cross. I couldn’t believe it. I was undone. I wept and wept and wept. Finally, he looked at me. It felt as though I was wearing his love for me like a piece of clothing, and He said, “I’m going to make you a pillar of faith.”

The dream was over.

Cam took this picture at In Harmonie. I wasn’t thinking of a 15 year old dream when I took it. It was one of many we took while enjoying the beautiful prayer garden. It wasn’t until later that night when I was looking through all the pictures of the day that I remembered this dream and it’s been at the forefront of my heart again since.

Ironically, we spent that very weekend at In Harmonie diving deep into the beautiful mystery of the prophetic. And I can’t help but visualize a smirky smile on God’s face when pondering this whole thing. Because the truth is, discerning what Jesus is saying or doing is tough sometimes. And I don’t always get it right. It’s often the gift of hindsight that allows me to see more clearly and understand more fully. But God is kind. So kind. He faithfully reveals himself to us, sometimes even, his plans. And still, every single time…it blows my mind.

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” -Galatians 2:20

I seen my brother in my dream last night and was never able to go back to sleep.

In my dream, Cam and I bought a house (one of my hearts desires) with more room than we ever imagined, enabling us to host people. Matter of fact, there were a couple people we knew there who would soon move in with us. A true answered prayer.

Some family and friends gathered to come see the place and bless our home. It wasn’t a house warming party, we hadn’t moved in yet, just an opportunity to pray over it.

As we walked outside, one of my cousins was getting married. We moved right into her reception. As I walked around enjoying the moment gathered there with my family I seen Anthony standing, leaning onto a tall table with his arms in front of him. He was dressed in all white, but looked like himself. Looked as though he had white sneakers on, white jean shorts, and a white T-shirt on. Yet his shirt was a little different. It had a beautiful navy blue and soft pink floral pattern on it, and the flowers had dimension. There he was just standing there taking in the moment, looking more peaceful and radiant than ever.

Knowing that my glimpse of my brother was just that, a glimpse of heaven, I run toward him without any trepidation or hesitancy and reach my arm out saying, “ANTHONY!” as if to grab hold of him before it was too late. My voice full of tears, desperation and longing.

When I reached out he grabbed my hand and had a big smile on his face, and as soon as he touched me he began to grow taller. When he grabbed my hand I was shocked because I just wasn’t sure if I would be able to touch him. But not only could I touch him, I instantly kissed his hand and said, I love you. I love you. I love you. Tears flowing.

Our moment was short, he had to leave. He was also growing in stature and brightness as he walked. But right before he let go of my hand, he looked down at me one more time and there were tears in his eyes. Our gaze into each others eyes was brief, but locked and very real. The love and affection between us was palpable. Then he let go and I watched him disappear.

My heart was so curious, even achy. As I watched him walk away I was wondering in my heart…why was he crying? I thought there was no pain in heaven?

And in that moment, somewhere between sleeping and waking, somewhere between the now and the not yet, I heard Jesus voice as I woke up.

“That wasn’t pain, Stephanie. ONLY LOVE.”

I’ve been up pondering, crying and writing since around 3. In absolute awe. Can you imagine a reality where the only tears we’re able to form are those of love? A reality so pure, pain is divorced from our deepest emotions and tears don’t even have the same meaning? A reality where we’re made whole and fully transformed, yet still true to our very essence, finally and forever?

I can’t either. But it’s coming.

And I thank God for this great hope and assurance. Thank you Lord for a glimpse into glory…during Holy Week…days before we celebrate and remember the Resurrection.

You have my heart, Lord. The veil of separation is so thin, Hallelujah.

That’s what my mama called me my whole life. Me, my sister, then my daughters and now her great granddaughter. And it’s only grown more endearing through the generations.

A couple years ago I had a dream I was watching my own funeral. Yet it was quite different than a regular funeral in many ways. I wasn’t in a casket, I was just laying on a raised platform with a blanket over it. My whole body exposed from head to foot. I also didn’t have anything nice on, as we typically bury our loved ones in something dressy. I just had jeans and a regular shirt on. I was also wearing boots. There was only one big flower arrangement, which I also remember being odd. There weren’t any rows for seating or chairs anywhere. Matter of fact, the room was quite large, resembling an art gallery. But the only exhibit in the room was me.

Yet the most notable difference of all…my mother was the only one in attendance.

There were several others in the room afar off, talking and chatting with each other, seeming totally unbothered and even unaware of this sacred space my mom was in as she stood over my body.

So many strange things, but none compared to my mother’s grief. It felt like I was being allowed to wear her pain for a brief moment in time. She was so broken. There was such loss and turmoil in her heart. It was palpable. Even recalling it as I type now, I can feel the piercing anguish well up. The sorrow was tangible and it breaks my heart all over again.

When I woke up I couldn’t shake this dream for several days.

The Lord showed me this dream wasn’t about my physical death. But the death of a daughter and relationship my mother hoped and longed for. Hence all the reverse symbolisms. In His great goodness, He was allowing me to see my mother’s pain. He brought me into the space that only He sees. He allowed me a glimpse of something she carried alone. And it was a profound and life-altering experience.

I spent years being angry with my mother after my divorce. I was wrestling through so much and I was dealing with incredible pain of my own. But my mistake was I couldn’t see beyond it. I spent years wanting someone to be held accountable for what happened to me. Everyone except me, of course. I know now I can’t comprehend the pain I caused during the years I put distance between us. Those years of anger and blame shifting are some of my most regrettable.

And although I can happily and honestly report that those years of anger are long over, this dream brought forth a freedom I hadn’t yet known. It’s given me a gift I didn’t deserve. The gift of another persons experience.

Forgive your parents. I promise you will need the same mercy from your own children.

Your pain is real. But your bitterness is only fueling misery. Extending grace doesn’t minimize the wrong that was done. It simply makes room and spaciousness in your heart, knowing that in due time, you will be the one who needs Grace given.

A sometimes hard yet beautiful truth is the wronged and the wrongdoer can both go to God for the very same thing. And wisdom is knowing that sometimes the wrongdoer is you.

Thank you mama for being everything you are. Such an example of surrender. Such a passionate lover of Jesus. Such a life poured out for others. Thank you for taking your pain to the One who sees. You did good and you tried hard. I know that you cared with all your heart and always wanted the best for us. Thank you for doing your best and trusting Jesus with the rest.

I honor you. I honor the pain you’ve carried and the dying to yourself you’ve lived out. Words are too weak to express all I desire to and everything God’s shown me about you. But I’m so blessed to be your daughter.

The most beautiful girl in the world.

YOU are God’s most beautiful girl, and I love you with all my heart.

Several years ago I had a dream Cam and I were outside teaching in a city square. It had the feel of an antiquated market place, almost in a different time era, but not. We still had on modern-day clothing but everyone else didn’t. A dream isn’t a dream without the mysterious and cryptic things that integrate themselves inside them. We were also in some sort of ocean side cliff village, water surrounded us. The most prominent part of this landscape was a huge mountain that backdropped the whole outdoor scene.

As Cam spoke to the people, more and more gathered. He began to move backward, looking for a better place to project his voice and ended up backing right into the mountain itself. I noticed as he spoke, he was also throwing pebbles of food toward the people, many were following, wanting to catch more and more of the food. They followed him all the way to the foot of the mountain.

When Cam finally got to the foot of the mountain, a wild metamorphosis took place. He transformed into the mountain itself. The entire mountain was Cam’s face, and without any break of consistency, he continued to teach, feed, and care for the people. As I watched the final scene of this dream, I could see everything as though I had a sky view. Droves of people were outside, like the whole village, intently standing with their faces to the mountain. Then the dream was over.

Planting a church has been the most beautiful and most difficult thing Cam and I’ve ever done. It’s given us such deep fulfillment and our most piercing pain. People come, and people go. And if I can be candid for just a moment, no matter the circumstance, sometimes that just plain sucks. There have been times it takes more obedience to stay than to abandon the ship.

When I had this dream many years ago, I always thought it was just the kindness of God to show us a glimpse of destiny. And who knows, maybe thats true. But today, all of a sudden, this dream came flooding back into memory and hit me like a ton of bricks.

The village is a place where things are constantly moving. People come in and people go out. There’s always weak areas and instability. There’s much to be built, as a village hasn’t yet been established into a city. There is still much to be ordered, created and governed. Some are craving the city where things are already built and there’s not so much work to be done. Understandably. But a mountain is solid and its position is fixed. Mountains don’t move. They’re consistent. Stable. They can be memorized and marked and trusted to stand secure. They aren’t going anywhere.

Today I’m praying for all of those who are called to be the mountain. I see you. God sees you. Amen.