We All Need a Hug Sometimes

Yesterday morning, I went to eat breakfast in my hotel before driving back to Atlanta, GA to catch my flight home. I had traveled to attend my college teammate’s wedding. I walked into the breakfast area to find to TV tuned to CNN and a news story featuring Donald Trump. I also saw a black woman starring at the TV. She worked there in the hotel and her role was to service the breakfast area. She had a slender frame and her hair was short and natural. I don’t know how old she was or if she had a family of her own. I don’t know if she was a Jesus follower or not. She looked concerned as she stared at our newly elected president on that screen. I believe she has every right to be concerned given his statements and behavior toward people of color.

I had no idea how she would receive me – an unfamiliar white woman. I felt the Holy Spirit nudge me in her direction. I gently put my hands on her shoulders and said, “You don’t have to watch that.” As she turned to me, we began to hug for a brief moment. Then she said, “I guess we just need a hug sometimes.” I instantly became a friend. We talked briefly about the outcome of the election and the grief we are both feeling. Then she looked at me with tears welling up in her eyes and asked as she placed her hand on her chest, “What does this say about us?” Not us as a nation, although that is a valid question. Not us as in her and me. She was asking what does this say about her (and all African-American citizens of the US) that so many people would look past the character of this man and elect him as our new leader? Her question is does my life matter and does my experience in this nation matter to anyone who looks different than me?

I hope in those moments she knew that her beautiful dark brown person and her experiences that have been very different than mine matter to me. I hope that I was a blessing to her and her life was somehow better because of my willingness to reach out to a stranger.

As I began my drive to Atlanta, I prayed for her and people who are feeling that same hurt and fear. I prayed that no matter what other people say or think she will know that she is a unique creation of an Almighty Creator. I prayed that no matter how unloved she feels in her own nation she is loved by the King of the Universe.

It is no secret that we are facing challenges in this world. There is nothing new about that, but it feels new if we don’t study history and recognize the brokenness of our world. We do hold differing opinions on the solution to those challenges. We do hold strong convictions about whose fault it is that we have to deal with our particular challenges. It seems easier to assign blame than take responsibility for our part. It seems the hate and anger of some is infiltrating the hearts and minds of many. I know I struggle to guard my heart and mind from the volumes of information that sit at my fingertips each day.

Jeremiah 29:13 says “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with your whole heart.” It is so hard to really do that when there are so many voices competing for our attention. It is even harder when some of those voices claim to speak on behalf of your religious beliefs or strongest convictions. About 3 weeks ago I was wrestling with God over decisions I am working through. I wanted so desperately to talk to people that lonely Monday morning, but there was no one to be found. My lunch plans were canceled. My friends were busy at work. It was clear God was saying, “Lynette, you just need to talk to me!” I spent that whole day walking and praying, crying and listening, singing and reading scripture. It was hard. By the end of the day, the only human beings I had spoken to were my husband and children. It was hard, but it was good. God was providing clarity as I chose to spend time with him asking questions and seeking his direction apart from the influence of the world.

I recognize the fear and anxiety I experience when God is asking me to follow his plan and make changes in the way I live so I am more in line with his purpose. I am making a decision to stand up in the face of fear of that which I don’t understand. I want to live a life recklessly abandoned to the Glory of God. I am choosing to temporarily reside in this broken world, but claim my citizenship in the Kingdom of the ONE TRUE KING.

When I make the choice to turn away from fear and my selfish ambition and turn toward God’s goodness, I can more clearly see the world as he sees it. I can begin to put the needs of another ahead of my own. I can set aside my desire for comfort, easy living, and American security so that God can shape and mold my character. I can recognize my mission here on earth as a citizen of God’s Kingdom is to make his name great so that people of every age, gender, race and sin will know and worship him.

In order to live out that mission, I need to…

1.       Recognize I have been put here for such a time as this.

In Esther 4:14-17 Mordecai spoke these words to Esther as he appealed to her to put her life on the line to stop the plot of Hamen to have all the Jews annihilated. Her response was to fast and pray and go before the King, even if she was sentenced to death, out of obedience for the good of others.

2.       Understand that being a peacemaker doesn’t mean I will have no adversity.

Proverbs 17:17 says, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” In order to be a peacemaker, I have to be willing to enter into difficult situations and conversations to more toward a healthier place. Going through adversity with a fellow believer, confronting issues head on, will serve to build a stronger bond between us so we can be about God’s mission.

3.       Be willing to hurt with another person, not because I myself hurt always, but because the fact that they are hurt concerns me. Colossians 3:12-13 says, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”

I want to lead with these qualities. I want non-Christians to see me living this way so they are drawn to the Gospel and I create opportunities to share the Good News with them.

I will no longer live and life of apathy – a life so full of my own stuff that I have no room for someone else’s. I will speak up when I see and hear injustice. I will hug a complete stranger if I can bring hope and joy to her day. I will speak the truth in love so that a marginalized person or non-Christian will know that while we were all enemies of God, he sent Jesus to die in our place and pay the penalty for our sins. I will meet people with forgiveness and compassion NOT fear and self-righteousness.

I have been put here for such a time as this so I will pray and go before the king and if that means I lose my life (figuratively or literally) so be it.

A Time to Learn

My first interaction with a black person was when I was about 10 years old. It was a brief encounter on a playground. She referred to me as “that white girl” when one of her friends asked who pushed the merry-go-round so fast. I never knew her name but I was puzzled by why she referred to me as white girl. You see I lived in a white world. Everyone I knew was white. Everything I knew was white. I didn’t know there was another way.  I believe that black girl knew something I didn’t know. She understood there were different ways because she had been living in a world where there were different skin tones. She had been taught that people may treat her negatively because of the dark complexion of her skin. What I heard from her as a racial comment was simply a descriptive term for her to identify me to her friend. In her world (which was only 1 hour away from where I lived) different complexions were normal. I wanted to correct her and say “I’m just a person. Why do you have to call me a white girl?” Now I believe I am the one who needed to be corrected. God created each of us to look the way we do. He loves the unique qualities that make each of us who we are including the color of our skin (because he put them there). For me to diminish that or pretend that we are not different is just wrong. Our differences have meaning and purpose to make God’s name famous so that people from all walks of life will know and worship him.

In high school AAU basketball and summer camps became a way for me to grow outside my white world and build relationships, albeit temporary ones, with black girls who also played the game I loved. My high school team played an all-black, inner-city school a couple times and one of those girls became a teammate of mine on a summer traveling team. I began see a world beyond my own. It was a little scary. It was intimidating at times. It was a lot of fun too!

By the time I made it to college, I expected to be around black people. I had black teammates and coaches. Approximately 30% of the population of South Carolina is African-American so my white bubble was burst and I was intrigued to meet people of color from all over the country. Most of our time together however, was focused on training and competing so I didn’t get to really dig in and understand what it was like to “be black” in America.

Tyrone and I will celebrate our 15^th wedding anniversary next month. We have known each other for 19 years. I am attracted to Tyrone’s dark skin. He would tell you he is attracted to my white skin. We love the way God has uniquely designed each of us and that we were designed for each other even though we don’t “match”. We love our 4 brown kids or “light black” as Jeremiah likes to say.  I have spent all these years learning what it is like to be a black man in America from him, and now what it is like to be biracial from my children. Tyrone also sees firsthand what it is like to be a white woman in America. The two are very different even though we lay our heads on pillows in the same bed every night. We each come from very different life experiences. He grew up in poverty most of his childhood. He was a military kid. He lived in multiple states and countries before settling in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina while in middle school. As a teenager, he was raised by a single mom. I lived in the same house on our family’s 150 year old farm 3 miles outside our small Ohio town until I went to college. I baled hay and started driving my dad's truck before I had a license. I played softball in the 3-corner field after the wheat was harvested with my dad, uncles and cousins. We went to the city when we wanted to go to the mall or dine out at a fancy restaurant.

I have said things to Tyrone that no white person should ever say to a black person. Things like “shouldn’t you get over it by now” and “people today didn’t participate in slavery so why are you so angry”. These comments were said out of ignorance, frustration, and a lack of understanding. We tend to say ignorant things when we refuse to look at a situation through another person’s eyes. The wisdom of James 1:19 (NLT) seems the best advice “Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry.”  Tyrone's story is unique to him, but it does give me a broader understanding of the differences African-Americans face in our country. We understand there are places and situations in this land of the free that our family should not go. We understand that some people look at us and pass a judgement based on the complexion of our family and we may be treated unfairly as a result. I get more upset about this than Tyrone does because it is what he has dealt with his entire life. I am still trying to deprogram from the white privileged life I didn’t even realize I was living.

I am the minority in my household. I am the only one who will get sunburned when we go to the beach. I am the only one with straight hair. I am the only one who doesn’t have the DNA of slave ancestors running through my veins. That is good! It is good to become the minority so I can empathize with what it is like to be a minority. You see, had I stayed in my white world it was possible for me to go days, weeks, months, and for some a lifetime without ever knowing a black person. For a black person it is not that easy. Black Americans (and other minority group too) often find themselves in places and situations where they are the only person who looks like them (hence the term minority). Imagine for a moment, having to seek out people who look like you or looking around and realizing there is no one else who looks like you. As white Americans we rarely, if ever, have to experience being the only white person. I appreciate every experience I have had as the only white girl in the room because I get a snapshot of what life as a minority is like. This is not about mistreatment necessarily because I have never been mistreated when the “minority” but it is always about a willingness to learn. Senator Tim Scott (Republican) stood on the South Carolina Senate floor on July 13, 2016 stating “I have felt the anger, the frustration, the sadness, and the humiliation that comes with feeling like you’re being targeted for nothing more than being yourself.” He also encouraged his colleagues to “recognize that just because you do not feel the pain, the anguish of another…does not mean it doesn’t exist.” http://www.sfgate.com/news/politics/article/Capitol-Hill-Buzz-GOP-Sen-Scott-gives-floor-8376702.php

So please take a moment or two or ten and think before you speak. Take some time and get to know someone who looks different than you. Right here in America we have so many cultures all around us. Americans look so many different ways – just check out the 2016 USA Olympic team if you don’t believe me. http://www.teamusa.org/2016olympicteam To my fellow white people, let’s take time to learn about others and become comfortable with our differences rather than judging minorities because they do things differently.

Mother's Day made memorable

Last Sunday was Mother’s Day. I have a sense of entitlement on that holiday and it grows each year. I feel like that is the day my husband and kids should give me a pass on all mom related responsibilities. They should be extra nice to me and also leave me alone for a good portion of the day. Gifts are great, but words of affirmation and an uninterrupted nap may be the best gifts. This year I received tons of words of affirmation through hand written notes from my 9 year old budding author and the husband of few words. I received toddler hands printed on an oven mit and sweet notes and a potted flower from my preschooler. I received grief from my darling son all day. Saturday night I asked him if he could just be nice and respectful on Mother’s Day and it was as if that simple request sent him into a tailspin of grumpy, preteen moping all day.

I decided to take Maiesha and Lydia shopping at the mall that afternoon. I enjoy shopping and with our budget it is even more fun because I can grab some cash and spend without a care in the world. The girls get it and know we can always get a few things every time we go. At the last minute, Tyrone decided we should all go to the mall. I agreed as long as he committed to take care of Chloe and Jeremiah. They also had to agree to NOT rush us or have a bad attitude if we were “taking too long”. He agreed so all 6 of us loaded up and went to the mall.

Things were going well. We went our separate ways for a while then we would meet up for a bit and then split up again. It all started to go south when I asked Tyrone to meet us in a department store so Jeremiah could pick out some non-athletic shorts and a couple shirts. He found the shorts quickly and we took him downstairs to look at the graphic t-shirts in the men’s department. He said “NO” to everything I picked up just because I picked it. Of course it was only a matter of time until someone would announce the need to go potty. Sure enough, Chloe had to go. I was back on “mom duty” since Tyrone has a mild fear of public restrooms especially when it involves his young daughters who touch everything. We set off toward the bathroom leaving Jeremiah staring at all the t-shirts he might have liked had I not suggested them. And you know the chain reaction that occurs every time one female says she has to go to the bathroom…all 4 of the Washington girls headed to the bathroom.

Hoping for a quick trip, I attempted to help Chloe but she insisted that “I do it myself.” I said that was fine and proceeded into the stall next to hers. I heard her toilet flush and then the crazy began. Chloe yells to me, “Mommy I need your help.” I assume she wanted help with her clothes and proceeded out of my stall to go to hers. Instead she met me in front of the stall with her leggings around her ankles. The auto flush toilet had frightened her so she hadn’t even gotten started. I took her back in the stall and insisted that it was not going to suck her down with all the water and sat her on the toilet.  She immediately went into toddler plank position and refused to sit while screaming “No mommy!” The auto flush went off 2 more times causing her to cry hysterically while I try to restrain her to the toilet seat and encourage her that it is safe to use the monster toilet. She was not having it! We pulled up the leggings and went to wash our hands. Lydia beat us there and was having a soap fest – wash and repeat - just because she could reach the soap dispenser. I quickly thought with all that soap in the sink and no one on lookers in the bathroom, Chloe could pee in the sink. I asked and she said “yes”. I held her on the edge of the sink with one hand while waving the other in front of the sensor to keep plenty of water flowing. Lydia was washing her hands for the third or fourth time which provided the cleaning agent. I wiped that little bootie with some paper towel and washed our hands. Team Washington left the bathroom – mission accomplished albeit not exactly as planned.

My Mother’s Day shopping trip was falling apart, but I could only laugh. We made our last purchase with not a single graphic tee and headed back through the mall to return to our van. What happened next can only be described as a miracle. A man stepped out of a small massage shop to offer a free 1-minute massage. I said “no thank you” in my impatient polite voice while in my head thinking how great a massage and a retreat away from motherhood would be. As I kept walking the man caught Tyrone’s attention and he stopped. I turned around to see the man rubbing Tyrone’s shoulders. Tyrone told him I was the client and pointed at the massage menu and said “She’ll have that one.” He paid the bill and took the kids to the candy store while I received the best 20 minute massage ever. It was the perfect end to a crazy afternoon. Just when I was ready to go into full on no one appreciates me mode, my dear husband rescued me.

When we got home Jeremiah apologized for messing up my Mother’s Day. I accepted his apology and told him that I chose to have a good day even though he tried hard to make it bad. My sweet, thoughtful young man was back (at least for a little bit). God has blessed me with a wonderful family that challenges me in every way, but also loves me well. I am thankful and humbled to have the privilege to be called mom by these 4 crazy and amazing kids. I am also glad their dad recognizes when I need someone to massage the pain in my neck.

All 4 One - the journey has just begun

One week ago today I stood in my kitchen and cried – hard. It was the kind of crying you do after a long grueling experience where you were stretched way far outside of your comfort zone to lengths you never thought possible and yet here you stand successfully on the other side of that once impossible thing. I needed to be alone with God for a few moments and “let it out”. The kids had taken over the living room to watch a movie - can’t go there. Tyrone was in our bedroom - can’t go there. It was raining outside and I was really too tired to think about walking - can’t go out there. I went into Maiesha’s bedroom and knelt down on my knees and put my face on the floor. I wept tears of gratitude, relief, humility, and exhaustion. I knelt there with God to acknowledge that we - by his leading – had completed our first weekend of service named “All 4 One”.

I had been a part of big service projects. I thought it would be really cool to be a part of something like that again. Several people in our church and I had had conversations about it too. Little did I know God had been preparing me to lead such a project and that through it we could begin to change a culture.

Back in January I received an email from the pastor of another local church. He wanted to meet with me about our two churches working together on a couple of projects they had in the works. One of our staff members had given him my name and email address. I read his email and thought it sounded good. I replied with kind words and a suggestion to get together to talk more about these opportunities. A few days later we met at a coffee shop and I said yes to make a service day happen on April 17. I was excited, but really had little idea what was about to happen. I sent a text to our lead pastor about it and we talked through it the next week. I sat in a room with 2 other part-time stay-at-home moms. We wrote big ideas on a white board and perused the internet for a name to brand this thing. A few weeks later I pulled a larger group together and we mapped out a plan. I started running with that plan.

It wasn’t your usual running however. This was different. This was blind running. This was clearly God saying close your eyes, hold my hand and let me lead you somewhere only I can take you. He gave me the prayer of Jabez as a guide through a video clip I watched from Chris Hodges, lead pastor from Church of the Highlands. I shared that thing with everyone who would listen.

“Oh, that you would bless me

(Give me more than I need so I can be a blessing to others)

                and expand my territory!

(Grow my circle of influence and show me how to steward it well)

Please be with me in all that I do,

(I need you to lead me God because this is bigger than I can handle on my own)

and keep me from all trouble and pain!”

(Protect me from Satan’s evil schemes and my own fear/flesh/sin)

And God granted him his request.

-          1 Chronicles 4:10 (NLT) (italics interpretation added)

I am here to testify that God granted my request. He showed up time and time again to confirm that “All 4 One” was just what our church needed and exactly what he was calling me to lead. He was growing my faith in him. I was moved to tears over and over as he revealed his plan and provided for every detail. A huge part of this project was that churches unite together to serve alongside each other not in competition with each other. God wants us work together to reach our community. Other churches said yes to our invitation. I met with them. They prayed. They gave. They served with us. It is a steep climb. We are working to change a culture. I am convinced, however, that God is moving to unite His Church so the unchurched and de-churched have a fresh look and a first look at the Gospel. So the good news that Jesus died to pay the penalty for all sin will be heard by every man, woman and child. So that people can receive grace and experience a restored relationship with God.

God sent us out on 9 projects last weekend. Over 170 volunteers served. People, churches and businesses gave over $6000 in cash and donations. We engaged with our community to bring life and hope that is desperate. It does not stop with one weekend though. It was just a launching pad to help people find their unique purpose in God’s story. He has commanded us to “go, make disciples” and he is leading us to understand how that looks in NW Arkansas. He is teaching us to trust him with our time, our talents, and our treasures so we freely give it all back to him. The more I give my life away the more I have to give. It’s not about one big weekend but a changed heart to serve like Jesus did.

"Made to Live" by Hawk Nelson https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDOf4TuZKdQ

God built a bridge

I had the pleasure of spending a few minutes with a little girl yesterday. I greeted her family while they were checking in to the Greenhouse (our children’s ministry area) as I do most all of our families on any Sunday morning. This was a special morning for this family. They were hoping to run into me. Their middle daughter needed to talk to me. She had made a life changing decision earlier that morning. She prayed with her parents to ask Jesus to be her savior and she wanted to get baptized.

The mom was super excited and asked her daughter to tell me all about it. Like most 2^nd graders, she wasn’t ready to share all the details on the spot so I said she could go on to her class and I would connect with her near the end of the service.

This is one of the best parts of my job as a children’s ministry director. I love sitting with kids and hearing their stories. I love teaching them about God’s big story and how he has specific plans for each one of them. I love sharing the Gospel with them and helping them connect with their purpose and place in God’s story. It is not just about their salvation, but about leading them to become a healthy member of God’s family and part of his mission. I want them to know that God has created them with specific gifts and talents that he will use to make his name great so they can help lead people of every tribe, nation and tongue into worshipful relationship with him. They are the future of the Church in this world and it is such a pleasure to lead them and their families.

Anyway, I digress; back to this awesome little girl I hung out with yesterday.

Near the end of her class I went to get her so we could talk. She was part of a rousing game of Octopus (one of 1,000 versions of tag) with her classmates after they had learned about how God blessed Peter so he could be a blessing to others. We walked into my office and I realized I only had one chair. I told her I would go get another chair, but stopped abruptly and said, “Let’s just sit on the floor instead.” She smiled big and responded, “Yeah that’s good.”

I asked her to tell me about her morning. She clarified, “The whole morning?” I said, “Well, how about the parts that led to you wanting to get baptized.”

She began her story.

“Well, I got up early at 6:11 this morning. I was sitting in my closet reading my Bible. Not the Bible with all the verses in it, but one with pictures. I wanted to finish it.”

I was already hooked and couldn’t wait to hear what she was going to say next.

She continued, “I was reading about a guy who baptized people and ate grasshoppers with honey. After I read that I wanted to get baptized.”

I explained that she was reading about John the Baptist and asked if she knew anything else about him. We spend a couple minutes talking about his ministry and how he prepared the way for Jesus.

Then I asked if I could draw her a picture.

I drew her as a stick person on a line on one side of the board and God on a line on the other side of the board (just G-O-D, not sure how to draw a stick figure of God). I described the gap between her and God like the Grand Canyon since she knew what that is. It is impossible to get across all by ourselves.

She said, “Maybe we could cut down a tree and build a bridge.”

I turned to her and rejoiced! “You are right…that is exactly what God did.”

On her side of the board there was sin and death. On God’s side was the gift of eternal life. God sent Jesus. God cut down a tree so some people could build a cross. I drew  the cross between the two sides. Jesus lived a sinless life and died on that cross so we don’t have to pay the penalty for our sin (bad choices for my little friend’s understanding). God built a bridge so we can cross over to receive his gift of eternal life through Jesus.

“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Romans 6:23 http://www.navigators.org/Tools/Evangelism%20Resources/Tools/The%20Bridge%20to%20Life

She pointed to her stick figure and drew a bridge through the cross toward God. “I can cross the bridge and have eternal life”, she declared.

“And what happened 3 days after Jesus died on that cross?” I inquired.

“He came to life again!”

I gave her a big hug. She got it! Jesus defeated death once and for all.

Then I asked her, “Do you know what we are now that you have accepted Jesus as your savior?”

She looked at me with a perplexed look and I informed her that we were now sisters in God’s family. I explained that we are sisters to anyone who is a part of God’s family because he is our Heavenly Father.

“So what does that make your mom?” I asked.

Her eyes got wide and bright one more time and she exclaimed, “That makes my mom my sister too.”

I reminded her that she still has to obey mom and dad, but it is pretty cool to call them brother and sister. Then we talked about baptism being her public declaration of her faith in Jesus and the bridge he is between her and God.

I am so thankful to have this privilege.