Happy Father's Day, Dad!

 This is my all time favorite photo of my dad and me.  Dad bought this cycle shortly before my parents’ sixtieth wedding anniversary because it was an exact replica of the motorcycle he and my mom rode on their first date when they were seventeen.  Yes, he is a true romantic. 

Speaking of romantic, here’s my Mom and Dad dancing at my niece’s wedding last fall.  They were, seriously, one of the last couples to leave the dance floor. Personally, I think they were in their own little world that night, eighteen again and dancing at their own wedding!

 This year, as they approach their sixty-fifty wedding anniversary, they’re not putting many miles on their motorcycle, which sits proud and sparkly in their garage.  However, they’ve putting miles on their custom-made tandem recumbent.  Ever the mechanical tinker, Dad continually tweaks this machine to better suit their style.

With a year of aggressive chemotherapy behind him, Dad and all of us who love him are adjusting to his new normal, a less energetic, slower way of living.  Throughout the winter, Dad’s oncologist kept saying, “We’re going to get you back out on that bike!”  She was right.  He and Mom are enjoying these summer days, riding slowly and not-too-far, but at least they’re riding again, adding a mile or two on each outing. 

My dad’s always been a garage person.  When I was a little girl I used to hang out with him in the garage while he worked on cars or created custom “things” out of metal.  Sometimes I had to wear safety goggles to project myself from the sizzling light of a welder or a mask to protect myself from flying shards of cut metal.  I never really paid attention to what he was doing, never tried to learn about it.  I just went out there because he’d say, “Hey, Lindy, come out and talk to me while I work.”  And I loved to do that.  

I’ve decided that this summer, when I hang out with Dad in his garage, I’m going to try to learn something.  He’s agreed to teach me to weld; he even reorganized his “stuff” in the garage to make it user-friendly for a novice.

 I have every intention of devoting my brain and my hands to the art of welding.  I’ll take it seriously and give it my best shot.  My dad is, after-all, a great teacher; it would be a shame not to let him teach me.  But secretly, if all I do is hang out in the garage and talk with him, I will consider it time very well spent.  

PS  I LOVE YOU DAD!!!! 

  

A Note to Young Moms

On October 7, 2006, my daughter, Shauna Niequist, gave birth to her first child.  Shauna had recently turned thirty and Henry was a “planned baby.”  But planned or not, a baby radically changes life.  The week Shauna found out she was pregnant she also signed a book contract, and a month later she traded her full-time leadership position on a church staff for part-time church consulting and speaking. 

Shauna was overjoyed to become a mother, and willingly shifted the main focus of her time and energy to child-rearing; however, she knew that in order to be her best self she should continue to develop and use—to some degree—the full range of gifts God has given her.  The challenge of blending motherhood with serving outside the home increased on September 26, 2011, when Henry was joined by baby brother Mac.  While snuggling a baby who delightfully smiled all day—and (not so delightfully) much of the night too, Shauna was finishing her third book and schlepping Mac along with her to speaking engagements.

Now Henry is six and Mac is twenty months.  Shauna has intentionally slowed life down a bit now, but she’s still a mom with a diaper bag slung over one shoulder and a computer bag over the other.  She and musician husband, Aaron Niequist, negotiate daily how best to share both parenting and the creative life. 

As for me—Nana Lynne—I am enjoying my favorite era of life so far: Since Shauna was born almost thirty-eight years ago, I’ve rarely had a paying job.  But I’ve always been busy as a volunteer.  Currently my volunteer ministry world is as big as the Congo and the Middle East, and my heart has been captured by both regions.  My personal world is as small as two little boys who make me feel like a young mom again!  (And yes, ones heart can be captured by countries and by little boys at the very same time!)

Together Shauna and I examined my long-past experiences and her recent-past experiences and shaped the following five suggestions for women combining the realities of motherhood with...well, with anything!  We hope these are helpful.

Pay attention to your authentic responses to life.

Be honest with yourself. Listen to your soul, your emotions, your joys, your frustrations.  We are so quick to say, I shouldn’t feel like this; I should feel like that.  I shouldn’t desire this; I should be content with that.  But when we dismiss or deny our authentic responses and lose touch with our true needs, feelings, dreams and desires, we often end up frustrated and bitter.

We need to allow ourselves to honestly answer questions like these:  Am I pleased with how I’m living my life?  Or am I frustrated?  Angry?  Depressed?  What brings me energy?  What drains my energy?  What are my dreams for the future?  What needs in the world move me to tears? What activities and endeavors bring me joy?  What creative outlet brings me deep satisfaction? 

This type of honesty is not about self-indulgence.  It’s about dealing with what’s true inside us.  It’s about making thoughtful, prayerful decisions about how to live with joy so we can bring our “best selves” to the people we love.  As we pray about our honest feelings, or talk with trusted friends, our spouse, or a counselor, we can decide how to respond to those feelings constructively. 

Questions such as these can spark creative solutions: Are there activities I can eliminate from my schedule that will help me to feel less stressed?  Are there responsibilities I can give up that will give me more time for activities I prefer?  Is there a class I could take that will help keep my dreams for the future alive?  Is there a volunteer job I could do that would be fulfilling?  How can I creatively shape a life that’s more satisfying for me?

On the other hand, some of our feelings may indicate an area in which we need to grow in patience or obedience to God.  There may be life circumstances that we simply need to learn to accept as the reality of our life, either for a season or permanently. But until we become honest about our feelings, we can’t even begin to discern what we need to accept and what we have the freedom to change.

  

Make a commitment to yourself.

As you discover gifts, passions, or activities that breathe life into you, commit yourself to staying involved in them in some small way.  Don’t take an all or nothing approach.  Often we think that if we don’t have forty hours a week to devote to something, we might as well not even try.  That’s not true!  A few hours here and there can make a huge difference—both in terms of the impact we can have on others and on the health of our own souls.  Be willing to compromise.  Get creative.  Set reasonable goals.  Use the small chunks of time you have now as an investment in your future dreams.  

Remember the importance of play.

Vocation, ministry, and family life often bring challenges that drain our energy.  If we want to be able to face those challenges consistently, we need to discipline ourselves to recharge our energy in light-hearted ways.  So, what do you love to do?  If it’s been so long since you’ve considered having fun that you have no clue what you love to do, think back through the years. What did you enjoy doing when you were a child or adolescent? 

When I first considered this question, I remembered that as a child I had enjoyed playing the flute, sewing, swimming, walking in the woods, painting, and reading—but I hadn’t done any of those things in years.  So I began experimenting with these simple pleasures from the past—and a few new ones as well—and it changed my life!  It brought me joy and energy that I need in order to face the more difficult areas of life. 

If you’re not sure where to start, begin to experiment.  Is there something you used to do but gave up long ago because it seemed frivolous? Is there something you’d love to try but you think it seems silly at your age?  Try it.  Again, just a little bit of time spent in a soul-filling pleasure can increase the energy, passion, and joy that you can bring to the people you love. 

Partner with another woman in a similar situation. 

Shortly after Henry was born, Shauna set up a schedule with another young mom to trade childcare and food preparation on a weekly basis.  On Tuesday afternoons, Shauna cared for both babies, while Annette spent several hours on a work project and then cooked dinner for both families.  The next Tuesday afternoon they reversed rolls. 

When my kids were preschoolers, I had a similar arrangement with a friend whose son and daughter were the same ages as mine.  I used my “time off” for meaningful work, catching up on details, solitude, or play—whichever I most needed on a given day.  Too often women operate in isolation rather than working together as allies and making life easier for all of us.  Let’s change this! 

Communicate clearly and constructively with your family. 

One afternoon I sat down at the kitchen table with my husband and grade-school children and visually illustrated the reality of our family life.  On a big piece of paper, I drew a large circle in the middle with four small circles around it. The large circle represented the corporate life of our family.  In it I listed the tasks required to keep a home and family operating: cleaning, grocery shopping, carpooling, administrative details, etc.  The small circles represented the individual interests for each family member: friendships, meaningful work, ministry, education, recreation, etc. 

One by one, I filled the small circles with the personal activities of each person’s life.  But when I came to my small circle, it was empty.  I explained that I was so consumed with the responsibilities of our corporate life as a family and with helping each of them keep their little circles going, that I had no time to squeeze anything personal into my little circle. “I don’t think this is fair,” I said.  “I deserve a little circle too.” 

Both Bill and the kids realized that we had to re-negotiate responsibilities in our family life in order to allow me some of the same opportunities they had.  There was no easy answer to the division of labor and responsibility in our family, but that conversation opened the way for us to begin making small changes. 

All parents go through seasons of life when the large circle and the kids’ small circles require enormous amounts of time.  That’s necessary and reasonable.  But if we consistently feel empty—as if we’re shriveling up inside—we owe it to ourselves, to our families, and to God to work toward a constructive, mutually workable solution that will free us to offer our gifts and love to the world with greater strength and passion. 

Almost every positive change I’ve made in life I made too late.  I wasted unnecessary time floundering in frustration before taking the steps that could lead me toward joy.  I’ve tended to let myself get so desperate that I either had to change or die! (At least that’s how it felt.)  I don’t recommend that as a way to live.  But if you tend to live that way too, and you’re feeling a bit desperate right now, please view this blog as a wake-up call.  Take it seriously. Today, grab hold of just one suggestion, thought, sentence, or even a single word in this blog to help you move an inch toward a better future. Here are some possibilities:

• Be honest.
• If you're feeling depressed, frustrated or angry, admit it.
• Talk to a friend.
• Make an appointment with a counselor.
• Pay attention to your energy level.  
• Identify one activity you do that consistently drains you.
• Identify one activity that consistently boosts your energy.
• What are your dreams for the future?  Or, what were they before you gave them up? 
• Do you have time-consuming commitments that you could eliminate?
• Think of one activity/task/responsibility you could give up (and the world would still go on turning). 
• Look at your calendar and find one hour in your week that you could devote to something you really want to do.
• Discipline yourself to play.
• Name one thing you love to do, even if you haven’t done it for 20 years.
• Name one thing you’d like to do, even though you’ve never tried it.
• On next week’s calendar find an hour where you can write, “Play.”
• Use the next few days to think of what you’re going to do in that playful hour. 
• Set aside 15 minutes—today—to enjoy a simple pleasure: a cup of tea, a few pages in a favorite novel, a walk around the block (or the apartment complex or the house), listening to music, writing in a journal, sitting in an easy chair and looking out the window, anything!
• Pursue a partnership.
• Ask a friend to “share kids” this week, providing two free hours for her, then two free hours for you.  Don’t make a big deal about it.  Suggest a one-time swap.  See how it goes.  (Or at least start thinking about whom you could talk to about sharing kids. Your default thought process might suggest that this would never work or I don’t know whom to ask. Please don’t listen to default negatives! Think about it. Pray about it. It’s really a good idea!)
• Draw circles. 
• Fill in circles for you and your family. What does that reveal?  Think and pray about how best to talk to your family about the circles. Maybe even practice by explaining your circles to a friend. (Don’t be impulsive with this. Seriously. You probably have something really important to say.  Don’t undermine it by speaking carelessly.)

What about you?  Can you relate?  Have other ideas or thoughts to add?  We’d love your comments!

I Love You Mom! See You Next Week!

Dear Mom,

When I scheduled this long speaking tour on the West Coast I didn't realize I'd be gone over Mother's Day. I'm so sorry I won't be having lunch with you and Dad. Or sitting by you in the glider listening to the melodies coming from your assortment of backyard birdhouses, bird feeders, and bird baths. Or checking out the progress of the spring blossoms in your tidy little perennial garden. Or laughing with you at the antics of great-grand-baby Marcele, your namesake. 

I haven't forgotten I promised you multi-colored impatiens, tuberous begonias, and mixed coleus for your Mother's Day gift.  But I've decided to postpone their arrival until I can be there to help you plant them and brighten up the shady side of the "back forty." I figured that would be okay with you.

We've had fun the last few months, haven't we?  This month, of course, we're thrilled to be able to celebrate Dad's returning health after successful chemo treatments.  But even during the days and weeks that were wrapped in the dark fabric of fear, there were threads of gold in that fabric, weren't there?  Remember the long afternoon we sat at a round table in the hospital waiting room, drinking vanilla soy lattes and talking about your high school boyfriends, your first date with dad, and the girl that made you jealous when she asked him to dance? I thought I'd heard all those stories before, but so many new details emerged during those slow hours of waiting.

You were quite the feisty lady at eighteen when you married Dad!  By twenty-one, when you gave birth to me, you were in the midst of a Honolulu adventure with your handsome navy sailor (and surfer) husband, Bob Barry.  Apparently you and I (young mom and baby girl) thoroughly enjoyed our lazy days playing in the sand and water of Waikiki. It was fun to look again at the old Hawaii photos, though I must admit you looked a lot better in your bikini than I did in mine!  (Bikinis and diapers are never a good combination.)

One thing I enjoyed discovering about you this winter was how much you love "sparkles."  In the past, sparkles--as in sequins, rhinestones, and shiny fabrics--were reserved for cocktail dresses or mother-of-the-bride attire.  Since you haven't been deep into the party scene (at least not since I was born) I've never seen your sparkly side. But those black glitter Tom's shoes I gave you this winter apparently opened your eyes to a whole new world. The world of casual sparkles!  Va-va-voom!  Dangling earrings. Sequined t-shirts. Silver purses. Cobalt-colored skinny jeans with studded pockets. Seriously! You shimmer now, Mom--from head to toe--and I love it!  

Not so dazzling, but even more impressive, is your willingness to brush up your long-neglected typing skills on the hand-me-down iPad you just received from your daughter (that would be me).  I never blamed you for not writing emails on Dad's old clunker of a computer.  But I was hoping you'd move outside your comfort zone long enough to send me an email or two on the iPad.  And you did it!  I love it every time I receive an email from "Leah Marcele."  I was grateful when you started sending your single sentence messages.  But holy cow, Mom, this week your emails have been downright newsy--with splashes of humor, even!  Thank you, thank you, thank you for inspiring me with the model of a woman who keeps on growing and changing. I hope I'm still learning new skills when I'm a month shy of 83!

You know that wherever I travel in the world I snap photos of beautiful flowers.  Even if you and I didn't look almost exactly alike, we could probably prove our mother/daughter connection simply by the intensity of our shared passion for flowers. True, I just photograph them while you actually grow them...but still.  So, for Mother's Day I was going to send you a collection of my ten favorite "global flowers."  Unfortunately, some evil spirit descended on my computer and blocked access to my ALL MY PHOTOS. Yikes!  I'm sure my personal computer angel will find my photos for me when I get back home, but I had to come up with a different plan for Mother's Day. 

So, my patient travel companions will tell you that throughout this week, in between speaking engagements and meetings, I've repeatedly wandered away with my iPhone in search of flowers. I'm glad we've been hanging out in places like Phoenix and Orange County and San Francisco, where there actually are flowers in May. I didn't capture any truly spectacular shots (it's hard to be artsy when you're in a hurry) but the flowers I photographed make me happy--and I know they'll make you happy too.  So I'm sending you a collection of my favorites from the week.  Sit back, Mom, and let these bits of beauty feed your soul.  I love you and I'll see you next week.

Finally, The Book I’ve Been Praying For!

 Years ago, when the leadership at Willow Creek Community Church wanted to respond wisely and compassionately to extreme poverty and the AIDS crisis, we challenged our entire congregation to read Dale Hanson Bourke’s books, The Skeptic’s Guide to Global Poverty and The Skeptic’s Guide to the Global AIDS Crisis. We knew there would be a time for more in-depth study, for decisions about strategies of engagement, for vision trips and serving opportunities and fundraising. But first we had to break through myths and stereotypes and ignorance. We had to provide a basic understand of issues, a common language, and a solid foundation upon which to build. My husband and I had known and respected Dale for years and were not surprised to find in her books the perfect starting point for our congregation.

Fast forward a few years. While happily engaged in ministry partnerships in several African countries, I was surprised by a divine nudge to turn my attention toward the Middle East. I began traveling to Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Israel and the Palestinian Territory. I met Arab Christians who challenged me to learn more about the Middle East, particularly about the ongoing conflict in the Holy Land, which they described as sending ripples of tension throughout the region and negatively impacting their lives. I decided to accept their challenge.

I started by reading book after book after book, piecing together dates and wars and migrations and political perspectives in an attempt to better understand this ongoing conflict. I traveled repeatedly to the Holy Land, not just to visit the traditional holy sites, but to learn from thoughtful people on all sides of the issue—from Israelis and Palestinians, from Christians, Muslims and Jews. Along the way, my heart was broken by the pain that decades of hostility has produced in the lives of all the people in the Holy Land. At the same time, I was captured by Jesus’ call to his followers to love their enemies and by the blessing he spoke upon peacemakers (Matt. 5:24, Matt. 5:9).

As I began telling others about what I’d seen and learned, I came to dread the moment when I’d be asked for a “simple book—a primer—to help me get started.” I dreaded that moment because I had no good answer. I’d recommend Elias Chacour’s book, Blood Brothers, which is a powerful call to reconciliation and peacemaking in the Holy Land. But in terms of the basic facts of the current reality, there was nothing. Most books about this conflict assume too much background knowledge or confuse readers with too many details. Worse yet, many offer a clearly biased perspective, a black-and-white assessment of good guys verses bad, which does not lay the biblical and essential foundation for peacemaking.

I could think of only one solution to this problem of the missing book: Dale Hanson Bourke. As soon as Dale agreed to travel with me to Israel and the West Bank, I started praying she’d be inspired to write about what she saw and learned. I knew it would be the most difficult project she’d ever written on, not just because it’s a complex story, but because it’s a painful story that taps into individual and communal traumas of two distinct people groups. To write this story in a way that would honor all the people in the Holy Land, and serve beginners on the peacemaking journey, would require equal measures of intellectual rigor and empathy, the mind of a dogged researcher and the heart of a passionate Christ-follower. Fortunately, that’s exactly who Dale is.

The Holy Land is not the first place Dale and I wept together as we listened to the stories of people whose lives have been shattered by violence. Nearly two decades ago we walked together through the rubble of war-torn Bosnia and committed ourselves to upholding the cause of suffering people through reconciliation and peacemaking.  It was in that spirit of shared passion that I invited Dale to join me in the Holy Land.  It is also in that shared passion that we have both decided to join the growing chorus of pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian voices, confident that as we submit our hearts and minds to the spirit of Jesus, we will find the way of peace.

I’m so grateful that Dale wrote the book I’d prayed for.  In fact, this blog is taken from the forward I wrote for Dale’s book, The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict: Tough Questions, Direct Answers.  Please read this book!  Order it right now! It’s not about taking sides. It’s about listening, learning and prayerfully becoming part of the hope and healing needed in the Holy Land.   

Looking Into A Mirror

by Guest blogger: Kellye Fabian

Kellye Fabian is a mom, writer, leader, and lawyer at a Chicago legal firm.  In 2009 she co-founded the Willow Creek Legal Aid Ministry, which provides free legal services to people who cannot afford a lawyer.  Since then, she and the Willow legal team have served thousands of clients, many of whom are undocumented immigrants who attend our church and/or live in our community.  Kellye has seen first-hand the impact of our broken immigration system on hundreds of families.  She has written and spoken extensively about immigration reform and used her experiences to broaden the understanding of church leaders, lawmakers, and anyone who will listen!  Lynne

People have asked me why I am so taken with the undocumented immigrant.  There are law-abiding people who need your help, they say.

Good point.

Why do the stories of the undocumented immigrants touch the deepest parts of my soul?  Why do I remember their stories more vividly than all the others I have heard in my work at the Willow Creek Legal Aid Ministry?  Why is it that I can still see the eyes of the undocumented immigrants when I close mine?  Why do their stories, so different from mine, seem like part of my own story?  After all, I grew up downtown Chicago in a upper-middle class white family.  I have never gone without anything I need.  I attended the best schools and enjoy any number of privileges.  The undocumented immigrants I have met have experienced a very different kind of life, one with very little schooling, if any, and even less privilege.

For example:

Mario grew up poor, in a tiny village in Mexico.  At age 16, his alcoholic father disowned him because he was not “manly” enough.  His father beat him and told him to leave and never come back.  He even told the corrupt local police to arrest Mario if he was ever found near the house again.  So, one night in the darkness, Mario crossed the border illegally into the United States, a place he had heard about since he was a kid.  Now, four years later, he wants to become “legal” so he can go to college.

Louisa is a single mom who, along with her two kids, lives with friends.  She left Mexico because she had no way to support herself and the kids after her husband left them.  They were smuggled into the United States, hidden in a dark, suffocating truck bed.  She came to the Legal Aid Ministry asking what to do about the traffic ticket she received.  She had failed to come to a complete stop at a stop sign and was also cited for having had her youngest strapped into a too-small car seat, a car seat she was able to afford only because a neighbor had put it out on the curb as garbage.

Leo dreamed of coming to the United States for better work.  So he did, but without working through the normal, legal process.  The prospects here were just too tempting.  Now, twenty years later, he has a wife and two kids, each of whom is a citizen.  But he lost his job and can no longer provide for his family.   He wants to know what his options are for citizenship or residency.  

Despite our vast apparent differences, the expression of hope I saw on Mario’s face is etched into my brain.  Louisa’s heartbreak feels like my own.  Leo’s desperation seems familiar to me.  Why?  Why can I not turn away?  Why do I love Mario, Louisa, and Leo?  Because when I look at them, I feel like I am looking into a mirror.

I have been undocumented.  And there was nothing I could do to bring myself into compliance with the law.  No amount of paperwork or legal arguments would secure my citizenship.  I had broken the law and the longer I lived, the more laws I broke.  Sometimes I felt justified by the circumstances, which were beyond my control.  Sometimes, I was just too tempted and gave in to the prospects.  At times, it was as if certain laws were enacted just for me to break them.  So incapable was I to remedy my situation that someone else had to intervene on my behalf – to the point of death on a cross, nails through the wrists, blood running freely.  All of this when what I deserved was to be deported, sent away, never to be reclaimed.

Instead, I received eternal citizenship and an all-access pass.  So how can I tell the undocumented immigrant, “I can’t help you because you broke the law”?  How can I say, “You’ll have to just figure this one out on your own”?  How can I feel anything but compassion?  How can I turn away?

Why am I so taken with the undocumented immigrant?  Because I have encountered the grace of God and it has brought me to my knees.

(See this post on undocumented.tv also!  http://bit.ly/nqyU9W)

To read more of Kellye’s writing on immigration click here: http://www.justhangingontograce.blogspot.com/search/label/immigration

Or visit Kellye's blog, What Does Jesus Have to Do with It? at http://kellyefabian.com
You can also follow Kellye on Twitter: @kellyefabian

To learn more about the Willow Creek Legal Aid Ministry, please go to www.willowcreekcarecenter.org/get-help/legal or email legalservices@willowcreek.org. 

Immigration Reform: It’s Time!

Note: Wednesday, April 17: Evangelical Day of Prayer and Action for Immigration Reform
 
I’ve written in the past about how God used Willow Creek’s Spanish-speaking congregation to nudge us into the immigration reform debate.  In the March/April 2013 issue of RELEVANT magazine I wrote this:

In 2005, the U.S. population was 296 million. The Pew Research Center projects that by 2050, that number will be 438 million—and that fully 82 percent of that growth will be due to immigrants and their descendants. 

Some of these immigrants may be like the hundreds who attend Willow Creek’s Spanish-language church, Casa de Luz: hard-working parents who came to America escaping poverty and seeking a better life for their kids. In desperation, they crossed a border illegally; now they live each day with guilt for breaking the law and fear they’ll be found out and deported. My husband and I believe God has entrusted these families to us and to our ministry, and we have felt compelled—despite criticism—to advocate for comprehensive immigration reform.

We hope younger evangelicals will look closely at the pain and potential in the immigrant community and pray, “God, what is mine to do?”  

Bill and I are grateful that over the past two years, evangelical groups have played an increasingly prominent role in advocating for compassionate and just immigration policies. Last summer 150 leading pastors, denominational heads, and thought leaders signed the Evangelical Statement of Principles for Immigration Reform. People of faith later penned open letters to the President and congressional leadership calling for timely action on immigration reform. 

Thousands of people in churches throughout the country responded to the “I Was A Stranger” challenge, reading 40 Bible verses related to immigrants and immigration over 40 days. Increasing numbers of American Christians have become convinced that the Bible speaks powerfully to the current immigration debate. 

On April 17 in Washington DC, a unified evangelical voice will call for a biblical vision for immigration reform that respects the rule of law, reunites families and upholds human dignity. 

My husband, Bill, will be one of the speakers in DC, along with dear friends like Stephan Bauman from World Relief, Rev. David Beckman from Bread for the World, Noel Castellanos from CCDA, Dr. David Anderson from Bridgeway Community Church, and many others. 

For more information about the event or to register click here.  

If you can’t go to DC but would like to support the event on social media, click here. 

If you wonder what other evangelicals are saying about immigration reform, there's a great Washington Post article here. 

Many in the evangelical community believe that NOW is the time for compassionate, comprehensive immigration reform.  But it won't happen unless we speak up.  If you can't be in DC on Wednesday--as I can't--please use your FB, Twitter or Blogs as tools for advocacy.  Figure out what is yours to do, and then DO IT!

If you want to read a bit more, here are some of my past blogs about immigration: 
Why Don't They Just Come The Legal Way?
Mother of Exiles
Bill's Introductory Comments for the President's Immigration Speech
Dios Con Nosotros: God With Us 

Belated Reflections On Easter and Unexpected Holy Moments

For those who view the yearly calendar through the lens of Christianity, the weekend that starts on Good Friday and ends on Easter Sunday holds undisputed honor in the hierarchy of holiness.  On this weekend in history God incarnate yielded to the harshest of human deaths—and then miraculously undid it.  Undid death!  Overpowered it!

This holiest of weekends is indeed worthy of candles, flowers, musical extravaganzas and prayerfully prepared sermons.  Two weeks ago at my church, the carefully crafted services moved many people—including me—toward a deeper surrender to the ongoing power of death and resurrection. 

But as I think back on that weekend, the sanctified pageantry—powerful and moving as it was—is overshadowed by two simple and unexpected moments.

On Saturday following Good Friday my daughter, Shauna, helped officiate a hastily scheduled wedding. The father of the bride had been battling cancer; his oncologist told him that if he wanted to see his daughter married, the scheduled summer wedding would be too late.  Hence, this unexpected Easter wedding.

Before the service, Shauna sat with the father, holding his hand while he told her his own Easter story: Almost thirty years earlier he’d given his life to Jesus. For the next fifteen years he attended church alone; then, finally, his wife joined him and she too met Jesus. Later his kids came to faith, and now he was about to welcome a Jesus-following son-in-law to the family. 

After that conversation, the father walked his daughter down the aisle, slowly and with great effort.  Then he reached up and placed both hands on her cheeks. In a frail voice, he spoke words that only she could hear.

During the ceremony, when Shauna addressed the young couple, she acknowledged the pain of the situation.  “This day of your wedding,” she said, “is tucked between the lament of Good Friday and the celebration of Easter, and is a poignant reflection of what your family is experiencing. You are beginning your marriage in a remarkably tender place, holding in one hand the sorrow of impending loss, and in the other the joy of a new beginning.”  That evening, Shauna wept as she told me about the ceremony.

Less than twenty-four hours later, while Easter Sunday celebrations continued in churches throughout the world, I sat in the emergency room of a local hospital by the side of a woman who had been severely injured in an auto accident.  It was obvious she was in excruciating pain, so I didn’t try to talk to her, but she nodded approval when I asked if I could pray for her.  I put my hand on her shoulder and started praying. I said a few words out loud, but mostly I prayed silently, eyes closed, asking for her pain to be eased.  Her brother and several other men in the room moved to a corner and left us alone.  I felt her body relax so I continued praying.  Eventually, when she seemed comfortable, I opened my eyes.  We chatted quietly until medical personnel moved her to the ambulance.

I’d never met that woman before.  I went to the hospital because she had attended my church for years; though I didn’t know her personally, I felt drawn to be there “as the pastor’s wife.” 

Though Shauna knew the young woman getting married, she hadn’t been asked to officiate her summer wedding.  However, when Shauna heard about the last minute re-scheduling, she thought perhaps “as the pastor’s daughter” she could help facilitate the event.  She offered to help and the family accepted.

Anyone who knows Shauna and me knows we don’t show up every time there’s a need just because we’re the “wife/daughter of the pastor.”  In a large church, that would be logistically impossible.  Even more to the point, in a church where every member is called to minister on the basis of giftedness rather than on gender or role expectations, we intentionally live according to our calling and passion.  We trust that as other people also do that, the body of Christ will function as it should and people will be cared for as they need to be.   

But for both Shauna and me, where we felt called on Easter weekend was into the very roles we often avoid.  And on that weekend, those roles gave us the privilege of entering into the most profound and tender moments of two families’ lives.

It’s not uncommon to hear complaints about “the expectations placed on pastor’s wives” or “the burden of being a pastor’s kid.”  Shauna and I understand those complaints; we’ve expressed them; we’ve even shaped lives that allow us to escape them.  But here’s the other side of that story:  Pastors and their families have doors of intimacy and soulful connection opened to them that few other people have.  On Easter weekend Shauna and I walked through two of those doors.  We are still in awe of the holy moments we found.