Diary of an Underachieving Churchgirl

In my town's local newspaper, a Sunday columnist named Katie Coombs recently published a lovely letter written to her children. In it, she addressed the recent conversation about removing the Confederate flag from government buildings, as well as the Supreme Court ruling on same-sex marriage in June. It really was a very nice letter, and Mrs. Coombs, I am sure, is a very nice woman. But it troubled me. Here are my thoughts: I enjoyed reading Katie Coombs’ letter to her children published in the Reno Gazette Journal on Sunday, July 5th, 2015, but I found her point of view to be quite secular, leaving out a large segment of the American population:   namely, Christians. Mrs. Coombs’ letter is an example of the kind of rejection, misunderstanding, intolerance, and thinly-veiled contempt the Christian people of this nation face on a daily basis now, even from very nice people. In spite of what you may have heard, Christian people know beyond a shadow of a doubt...

I walk around my house with my hand over my heart. How is it that You have changed my very heart? Not my circumstances. I wept alone in the kitchen yesterday for the hurts that hurt so deeply, the piercing wounds caused by too many days saying too many unkind things. I felt reduced. Reduced to a lonely child with her head on her knees in a corner, crying for someone to love her. Someone to nurture her. Someone to lift up her head and say “I’m here for you, always.” Many years of marriage sometimes reduces us to children. And I just let God have it right there in the kitchen as I chopped up onions and carrots and bell pepper and celery and potato, huge wet glops of tears falling on the kitchen floor when I scooped to pick up a stray vegetable peeling, as I angrily scrubbed pots and dishes in the hot soapy sink, hot wet ugly tears, the sleeve of my t-shirt drenched with snot: I got honest, I got down and dirty with God with all the hurt, all the rage, all the pain, t...

Dysfunction. It runs through every human endeavor. Whether it be dysfunction among friends beginning with unresolved hurt, or dysfunction within families stemming from addiction or abuse… There’s dysfunction in our government, in our churches, dysfunction in our school board meetings, dysfunction in the check-out line at Walmart, dysfunction between husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, and especially dysfunction in our own relationships with our selves, and with God, our Father. We are a disabled people, incapable of functioning in a healthy, thriving way with each other, with ourselves, and with our Maker. The schisms and inaccuracies and false doctrines and bad advice and lack of understanding and prejudices and beliefs and over and over again wounds run deep. We are like a deaf man, straining to hear the truth with his ears. We are blind, groping about in the dark to find each other and the flourishing in relationship we long for, only to fall flat on our faces. He...

Who am I? I am a woman in my forties, married, a mom, a Christian, a Westerner (Nevada), an American. What am I for? Authentic church. The people of God. Why? Because it’s through His church that Christ invades the hearts of all the people in the world who do not yet know Him. It’s through the church that Christ works out His purposes in us. Only in this family are we instructed, encouraged, supported, lifted up, corrected, guided, anointed, empowered, filled, sent forth, equipped.   It’s in the church family where we God-sealed humans are fully realized. Oh, and I suck at all of this. And so do you. Because we never learned that our pursuit of God and our function in His Body was the first thing, the one important thing, the only thing. We got distracted… with high school dances and boyfriends and jobs and college and dating and fitness and goals and independence and self-sufficiency and doings and callings and questions and detours and marriage and making...

Anxious.Yes, that's what it is. My beautiful, happy child runs around our house with his friend. They build a fort, watch What’s New Scooby Doo and eat pizza. It’s going to be a sleepover. I know I should be happy. This is how it always starts. It’s an indefinable wet blanket in my heart. I smile, but there is no joy. I do all the things I love to do, but there is no thankfulness overflowing. It feels like fear. Like the IRS knocking on your door. Or cancer. Or worse, if you let it. The fear is that I feel it coming, and I SO don’t want for it to take over. To make me sad. To hurt my happy kiddo. To steal my joy.   To distance me from God. But it’s not coming. It’s here already. I just tried to pretend it wasn’t. I do this every time. So, hello to you, old friend. Here you are. I acknowledge you like an unwelcome but necessary visitor. You are... the piano teacher, the after school tutor. You are not my enemy, just a familiar thorn in my fle...