Thursday, August 8, 2024

The Outer Court

When I was a little girl I can still remember my Sunday school teacher describing the temple of Bible times. I thought it was sad that some areas were off limits to so many. All I could think of was the door that was off the right side of the pulpit that my daddy preached in. The expensive sound system was kept there. Us kids had no business back there…we were not allowed on the other side of that door. My little mind guessed that the temple had a microphone and speaker system, too.

It wasn’t that simple. The temple was more complex than our modern day sanctuaries…also known as auditoriums for those in my circles growing up.

Lately, the outer court of the temple has caught my attention. This area was also known as the Court of the Gentiles. So many areas were off limits to most or at least some. But this area was different. The outer court was open to all foreigners, far and wide. There were no limitations on race or gender. Everyone was welcome. Everyone could worship.

This is also the place were Jesus became angry, fashioned a whip, and flipped some tables.

We know the story. It was almost Passover, so Jesus went to Jerusalem. As he made his way into the temple, he saw people selling animals and exchanging foreign money. The writer John tells us Jesus took enough time to make a whip with some things he found on hand. Brandishing his new creation he then chased the people right out of the temple. He scattered the animals and left money lying all over the floor, just before he turned the tables upside down. He bellowed, “Stop turning my Father’s house into a marketplace!”

His disciples thought back onto prophecies they had learned from their Jewish upbringing. Religious leaders were confused and shocked; some were even mad. People today use this account to justify anger and to condemn some churches for money making strategies or what they may see as gimmicks.

***

The American church now leans heavily toward success as seen in the eyes of the business world. We now look at the quantitative side of things…increasing numbers, both in congregational attendance numbers and in bank account dollar signs. Success and growth tends to be measured by the acquisition of land or the number of campuses and connections. These things are easily counted, logically justified, and have the first-world stamp of approval.

Qualitative matters make many uncomfortable. The lines are blurry here and results are sometimes harder to define. Sometimes the qualitative sparks more emotion and creates space for interpretations and opinions. Much of the time this leads to confrontation, only due to an unwillingness to embrace the qualitative, and communicate openly and honestly while leaning into love.

Quantitative…easier to measure…black and white…safe.

Qualitative…not easily defined…a world of grey…vulnerable.

***

There was purpose behind the selling of the animals to the people coming for Passover. The journeys had been long and hard on foot by most or with the help of livestock at best. The majority had to find sacrificial animals once they reached their destination. The merchants had to sell their products to meet the needs of the ones desiring redemption in worship.

These same travelers came from different regions and far off places. Different cultures, different dialects, different currency. The money they had in their pockets and purses had no value unless it was exchanged for the money that was accepted in Jerusalem. There was purpose in the presence of money changers.

We do not know if these merchants inflated their prices or not. We do not know if the money changers gave the correct rate of exchange. One would hope that ethical practices were present at all times, but surely at least this was the case in the days leading up to such a celebration and remembrance. But we just do not know.

What do we know?

Jesus became filled with righteous anger.

What else do we know?

This situation took place in the outer court of the temple…where everyone had a place to worship in peace and joy with God the Father.

What’s the connection?

The qualitative interaction of relationship between people and God was impeded and interrupted by the quantitative business transactions of the religious.

***

If Jesus was here today in the flesh, I wonder if he would be flipping tables over and running folks out of buildings we call churches while striking a whip. He just might. Are our intentions and purposes modeled and mirrored after Jesus? We should reflect and ponder on if he would approve of how we treat those that shepherds and leaders have deemed employees while forgetting they are also part of a flock, not to mention a brother or sister. Perhaps he would turn angry when our non-profits loose direction when pride gives them ultimate authority, and orphanages are turned into businesses instead of homes.

The existence of financial decisions and the establishment of procedures and methods are needed in any entity. This is the case in businesses, churches, organizations, and even homes. It provides security and guidance and accountability. There is purpose for these things. But…

In the church and it’s extensions when we elevate business and quantitative matters over the quality of God breathed relationship and love of others then we are metaphorically filling the outer courts of God’s temple with self-absorbed preoccupation of what our culture deems as important.

And when this happens…perhaps a few tables should be flipped.

 

 

Saturday, February 10, 2024

Week 5 and 6: 2024...gotta play catch up!

 It’s 11:18pm. 

42 minutes until a new week starts. 

January is now gone. Fair riddance. 

Today we celebrated 78 years of my momma. She said it was the best birthday since her 40th. Her happiness makes me happy. 

The girls are asleep, catching up from a very hectic and fun ComingHome week at WHS. Jackson is enjoying a weekend on campus. 

Like many late nights my mind rests on them. The three kids. 

My mind whirls with things I want to make sure they know without sounding overbearing and insulting. I have always wanted to guide them, but never force them into behaviors in the name of fear or people pleasing. My goal is mothering in love, advocating with boldness, and walking humbly alongside them. I have fallen short more than once. I talk too much, worry when I should not, lose my cool, and overcommit. God, forgive me. I pray they do as well. 

This week I had a concersation with someone. It ended with the individual saying something along these lines..."It's just not worth it. It isn't worth my time."

Tonight I want the three kids to know this…

You are worth this loss of sleep tonight. 

You are worth every penny that I have spent on the right outfit, new shoes, each fast food stop, and everything in between. 

You are worth each trip to games, competitions, and activities.

You are worth the time spent in prayer. 

You are worth every meal I have made. 

You are worth the tears. I thank you for the laughter. You are worth that too. 

Every road trip or vacation...you are for sure worth it.

You are worth the arguments and disagreements. 

You are worth the homeworks assignments, 4-H and Beta speeches, and school projects.

You are worth each Christmas Eve I have spent collaborating with Santa till the wee hours of the morning.

You are worth each secret keep.

You are worth every struggle shared. 

Each kiss and hug...you are more than worth it.

Jackson, Nancy Caroline, and Sadie...you are worth so much more to me than I can explain. From the time you each took your first breath, you have been the air that I breathe. And I would not change that for one second. 


Saturday, January 27, 2024

2024: Week 4

 

Bob Goff. I have read every book. I follow him religiously on social media. When he visited a church in Murfreesboro I was the first to sign up. I have visited Tom Sawyer Island in Disneyland hoping to see him in his element. He speaks my language and he is definitely an encourager for me. I was so happy that we had a discussion with a podcast from him as a focus in one of my school counseling classes at Lipscomb.

My mind keeps being drawn to a line or two from the podcast…

What makes you come alive?

What do you find yourself doing when you know that is what you were put on earth to do?

As long as I can remember I wanted to be a teacher. When I was a little girl I would arrange my parent’s basement family den into a classroom full of baby dolls, stuffed animals, and Barbies and Kens. I would take attendance, teach ABCs and 123s, and every now and then send someone to the principal’s office. The years just out of college were a dream come true as I had a real classroom of my own with real students ready to learn.

I fast forward through many moves with my husband, a few teaching positions, and then focusing on raising three incredible kids.  Now I find myself right back in the high school where I first started my teaching career. I love it. It is where I belong. But something is gnawing at me.

The student athletes that struggle to make the grades in order to stay on the field come and ask me for help. I am approached by another staff member to help with three seniors that cannot seem to pass chemistry. My planning period is frequented with knocks on my door followed by requests to talk through a problem. The boy that sits by himself at lunch. The girl that hides her pregnancy from her parents but everyone in the hallways know. The new student that does not quite fit in and can’t find a way. All these things call to my heart and demand my attention away from the classroom management, demands of grading, and details of lesson plans.

I want to know the students. I want to be a constant and safe place for them. I want to help them, whether it be in making decisions for their future, growing them academically, or focusing on their social and emotional health.  In becoming a school counselor I am convicted that I can fulfill the purpose I am being called to pursue.  

Do I have fears? Everyday! I am 45 years old. Many of my friends think I am crazy for starting a new chapter now. After all these years, can I really succeed as the student in the classroom??? Especially at the master’s level??? The doubt has led to fear and it has held me back so many times. I also worry that I will be unable to do it. Balancing responsibilities with my family, the demands of my current job, and my assignments and classes can be very stressful, sometimes overwhelming. Just this week as I waited for my youngest to get out of cheer practice, I paced the halls and my mind whirled with how I could fit it all in, not let anyone down, and get everything complete.

The encouragement of my family and a few friends seems to always lighten my load. I am thankful to have them walk beside me and cheer me on through it all. But honestly, there has only ever been one thing that has helped me maneuver through the worry, doubt, and fear. My pride has prompted me to push it aside and postpone it. Stubbornness and my need for control override it time and time again. But every time I relent into the quiet, solitude of prayer with my Father I find an escape from the chaos. The worry and panic that fear and doubt stir up disappear amid the conversations with Him. With the companionship of my family and friends I know I can succeed. The guidance of my advisors and professors will show me the way. But He will be the reason and answer for it all.  

 

Saturday, January 20, 2024

2024: Week 3

The ground has been icy and white for almost a week. All the excitement that did exist from the closure of schools and the disruption of the regular has ceased. The kids want normalcy and their routine and freedom. If it was up to me, we would continue with the quiet and solitude. They, and their dad, are all I need. 


My nephew is a photographer. His creativity and eye for a good shot impresses me. I am a proud aunt. He spent the much of the week at home just like everyone else in the mid-state, but he did have his camera and lenses in hand. I am fascinated by his week’s work. 


                                              (Photo credit: Andrew Denning Photography)

When I was growing up I’d sit at a little yellow table in the basement of the house my parents made a home. I would fold pieces of white paper into squares and then snip and clip little designs. My unfolded masterpiece always provided hope of what I anticipated winter days would bring. 


As many times as I made my paper snowflakes, there wasn’t one that ever could compare to the Creator’s handiwork. I gaze at my nephews pictures and I find myself entranced, in awe, speechless. Words don’t do this intricate, carefully designed, God-breathed miracle justice. 


I am grateful for the pause this week. Last week I am honest but ashamed to admit that I wouldn’t have slowed enough to notice a tiny speck of His creation. I hopeful that next week and weeks from now I will remember this snowflake. Maybe if I keep its memory it will be a reminder to notice the marvels of His creation that fill my world. 


The trees that line our creek. The stars that are suspended in the night sky. The chipmunk that makes my back yard his playground. The students that try to blend in with the crowd and quietly shuffle down the hall. The calls that register with the names “momma” or “daddy” on the screen of my cell phone. The overlooked moments with my favorite four.


I want to always remember this snowflake, giving my life in thanksgiving to it's Creator everyday.  



Saturday, January 13, 2024

2024: Week 2

It’s the second week of January. Christmas has come and gone. The New Year has rung. The decorations are stored until next November. 


I spoke to our FCA at school a week ago yesterday. Sometimes I spend much of the week preparing for these morning meetings. Other times I may give thought to what I want to share the night before. This time in the silence of my Friday morning driving by the creeks of Auburntown and over the hillsides of Statesville my mind rambled with what to share. 


Pulling into to the parking lot minutes before 7:10am, I jumped out of the Ford, swiped my badge, and power walked the hallways to the gym. Sweet but tired faces filled the room. The speakers usually stand. This morning I pulled a chair to the front, sat down, and took a breath.


I began to talk... 


This day, this Friday, was what some religous people think of as Epiphany...the visit of the Magi...otherwise know as the wisemen...I wonder if there were really just three? I digress.


They visited. They gave gifts. They didn't report back to Herod. 


Days before the shepherds had left their flock. They had witnessed something indescribable.They had seen angels and heard their chorus. They had run to the barn in humble Bethlehem. They had heard the cries. They had knelt before the King. 


We never hear anymore of the story of these wisemen and these shepherds. Scripture continues. But their story...for us it ends.


We anticipate December 25th. We celebrate His birth. We read Luke 2 and rejoice. We open the gifts and we eat lots of food. Our focus is on this Child that became a man and was the King of all Kings and became our Savior. Our focus is on Him. 


A week passes.


And then January 1st comes and it's a new year. It's time to make changes and resolutions. We plan a diet and buy a gym membership. We decide we need to spend more time self reflecting. We make promises to ourselves and speak of new habits and routines and changes. We focus on ourselves. 


What can I do better?


Why should January 1st or March 12th or August 8th or October 30th be any different than December 25th? 


He left Heaven. He became a baby, then a child, then an adolescent (bless Him) and finally a man. He walked this earth, humbly and lowly. He made strangers His friends, sinners His company, and outcasts His friends. Then He went to the cross and died. 


All for us. 


I bet the shepherds were never the same.  On January 1st I bet they could still hear the hallelujahs and see the glory. They were still excited about the cries and had the hope of the King's arrival. They probably didn't make resolutions and buy gym memberships. The wise men knew their focus. It was on Him. 


How can He make all things better?



Monday, January 1, 2024

2024: Week 1

The sounds of the ocean and the waves are the only things to hear. But there are so many things to which to listen. The things swirling in my head. The things that keep me up at night. The things that distract, monopolize the quiet, and tempt me to worry. 


During this year we are about to enter I will be working on my marriage for twenty three years. Many days 2001 seems but just seconds ago, and on others it seems like a repetitive roller coaster that has been going on for centuries. Tears, laughs, travel, kids, counseling, work, play, aging. All with the same man who said he needed to marry me. 


2024 will mark the twentieth year of my work as a mother. No greater joy has ever been given to me other than the joy given by the three kids. Each one has unique qualities and talents that inspire me, teach me, and challenge me. They never disappoint. My deepest regrets are ones that derive from my fear of disappointing them in my mistakes as their mother. 


This year I will continue working in public education. We may be overlooked and under appreciated, but I know we as educators have answered a high calling. I trust the 14 to 17 year olds I teach and coach with the expectancy I have for them to achieve great things. Those great things don’t necessarily mean the highest grades or the worlds take on the most decorated professions. I am speaking of kindness, love of others, humility…the basics of what education should be in a world where those things are hard to come by and have been cheapened. 


The work I have been at the longest is that of a daughter. This past year has been a challenge to watch my parents navigate through. In their mid-seventies, all one wants for their parents is peace, stability, comfort, and belonging…all the things they have provided for me and so many others throughout their lives. My mind swirls around ways to provide for and protect the two that have given me everything that is love and goodness. 


Perhaps my perspective needs to change. 


My work? I have been working? The work I have to do?


God, will you continue to work on me? My life, my marriage, my children, my profession, my parents, my roles and relationships…I lay it down before You. In the noise, in the chaos, in my attempt to control…I have forgotten to give things over to You. Forgive me. Renew me. Quiet my mind. Work on me.

Sunday, March 20, 2022

Upside Down

This born and raised middle Tennessee girl graduated from college on May 13, 2000, ready to settle into a simple Southern life as a small town high school teacher. The next day I laid eyes on this really tall fella that had distinct and expressive eye brows and the happiest of brown eyes. A few months later I found myself agreeing to marry him and move 2000 miles away from home to a tiny five square mile island. Every plan was changed. My surroundings were totally different. Working with people from all over the world with different teaching styles and philosophies was more than challenging. All things seemed new, from shopping for groceries to driving a car and everything in between. And a new marriage...yeah, there was that too. 


My world was completely turned upside down. 


That wasn’t the last time things got shaken up. A few years later I was on fall break from teaching at a middle school in Missouri. I decided to run to the grocery and pick up my favorite frozen treat, mango sorbet. As I was about to check out I decided to pick up a little something else...a pregnancy test. I hadn’t been feeling the best and I just wanted to ease my mind. An hour later my sorbet was melting all over my couch as I tried to get my mind around being a mom. 


My world was turning upside down again for sure. 


Fast forward...an island and three kids later. I am a content and happy stay at home mom, working hard to make life happen for my family. Focusing on loving Saba was a big chunk of my time. I did non profit work and was active in service to my community in which we lived. But we faced the reality that our kids needed should have options as we began to look at their high school experiences. Long story short...five years later I find myself in a full time regular classroom again...this time teaching of all things Algebra, and coaching cross country and tennis. 


My world got completely turned upside down once again. 


In the moment these upside down changes seemed scary, sometimes irritating and uncomfortable, and even impossible. But in the flip side of the upside downs I so clearly can see the Father. All these things didn’t happen by chance. It wasn’t because of any decision I made or someone made for me. He was the reason for it all. He has shown me His love, given me the greatest gifts of human connection, taught me about grace, grown my faith, granted me the most outrageous joy, and taught me to be content with His plans even though I don’t understand them...because they simply are the best beyond any measure. 


We shouldn’t be surprised you know. He has been turning peoples worlds upside down from the beginning. He made a shepherd boy a king. He made a prostitute an ancestor to the Savior. He made outcasts his apostles. He gave the blind their sight. He let the unclean and sinful touch him. He took everything the religious deemed as important and shook it all up. 


He died. He was resurrected. 


And in that, he turned the entire world upside down.