Smelly Church

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are an aroma that brings death; to the other, an aroma that brings life. And who is equal to such a task? Unlike so many, we do not peddle the word of God for profit. On the contrary, in Christ we speak before God with sincerity, as those sent from God." -2 Corinthians 14-17



Without a doubt, God called my family to be church planters in Nashville. We partnered with Reunion Christian Community almost 2 years ago. And let me be completely honest here, it has not been easy.

Reunion Christian Community is not like your traditional church. We do not have a worship team. We do not pass the offering plate during service. We do not place membership. We do not have a church building. We do not have a fun-filled children's program.

I could go on, but I'm pretty sure that you get the idea.

Reunion is different.

We're a missional community that meets in homes.

We have had to tweak our Sunday gathering. We have had dear people come & go. And we've had our hearts broken more times than I'd like to remember. We've questioned who we are, what we are doing, & why God placed missional communities on our hearts.

But tonight as I sit in my living room, I understand a little of God's heart for us.

I absolutely love the traditional church. But, God did not call my family to start another traditional church in "Bible Belt America". He called us to start a church that looks a little different. And we've listened.

Because we've listened, we've received criticism from a few strangers and from some whom we love. (I will spare the details as I know that most were said out of love.)

Reunion is unattractive.

And right now, Reunion smells.

There are those with wounds that have healed & others whose wounds have rotten. You can not cover their wounds (nor some of mine) by simply handing us a bandaid.

I've quickly learned that it is not just the poor that "smell". Yes, the poor deal with economical poverty, but also struggle with relational poverty. Quite honestly, you don't have to be poor to deal with relational poverty.

Everyone has a wound.

Everyone hurts.

I want to give more than just a hand-out.

I want to do more than just a "feel good" service project.

But, I have had my own struggles with this church model.

It is hard.

It is different.

It is investing in the lives of the hurting.

It is a lifestyle change.

But, I am confident in His leading & will fight for those in our community.

I know how I lived before embarking on this journey of church planting.

Too often, I ignored the very presence of the needy and kept my front door closed.

I have been good at justifying "my" time and "my" money. I am pretty good at using my kids as "excuses" and putting up strong "family boundaries".

I'm ashamed of my heart for passing quick judgment on others. I stand with them in conversation with my brick & mortar in hand.

I am quick to build my wall of defense.

But really, who am I?

I am no better.

I am no different.

These past couple of years, I have been thrown into the fire and refined (several times...I was even thrown in there tonight.)

My heart chooses to lay down the building materials in exchange to give grace.

To love well.

To serve selflessly.

I long for my beautiful home to joyfully welcome the poor in spirit.

To replace the smell of candles for the fragrance of life.

For this home is not my own, but it is His.

And, I pray the aroma will be pleasing to the Lord.

Counting it all joy...

Morning learnings (some strange) that I will count as joy:

1. I just realized that I have replaced my heels for tennis shoes.

2. My daughter regurgitates her food.

3. My son can burp anytime & anything on command.

4. My son can outrun both his dad & mom.

5. My daughter can almost do a back walkover (and shares in my disgust at #2 & #3)!

And #6...God must be having a good time watching the activities of our household this morning.

It's in these times that I can almost hear Him laugh, "Enjoy! Everyone is going to be just fine!"

And I let go of my hair & rejoice in the craziness of each one...

Opening the door: Similarities

Most of my life, I have kept my past experiences, choices, and failures locked up from the world. I have kept the skeleton key close to my heart and held it tightly. Occasionally, I would open the door slightly to let a friend see a glimpse of me...the real me. Then, I would quickly close the door out of fear that I'd lose a friend. Be mocked. Or be betrayed.

No one wants to know my story. No one needs to know my past.

Something has changed in me recently.

And tonight, I stepped out of my hidden place.

I allowed "J" to know a little bit about me. You see, we have quite the connection.

We have similar stories. Mine from long ago....and his story as of now.

It's cold outside. I admired the beauty of the icicles on our trees this afternoon while sipping on my hot coffee.

I think "J" feels a little differently about the weather. Although he has the opportunity to sleep in a house that is currently being renovated; there are no utilities turned on.

He sleeps in this freezing weather.

As he humbly shared of his time in the house, my spirit jolted me to a place that I've kept hidden for so long.

I understand his story.

I can't give you an exact year, maybe I was 6 or 7. My grandmother purchased a nice house in a small town outside of Tulsa. She allowed my family to live there and pay her rent. It was a great house for us. It had 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen, & den. For a family of 6, it clearly met our needs.

I remember sliding down the stairs with my sister and brothers. I remember playing in the old shed in the backyard and eating fruit straight off of the trees.

There were some great memories in that house.

Times became tough. My dad made some decisions that made it difficult to provide for all of us.

And one by one, the utilities were shut off.

We didn't have much money for food. I distinctly remember bologna and an occasional "sandwich". We use to call our sandwiches " wish sandwiches" because we wished that there was something more in between the bread than just the ketchup that we stole from McDonald's.

One winter seemed to be extra cold. Our 4 bedroom home quickly turned into vacant space as we all curled up in one bedroom downstairs.

Blankets were hung over every window and over the doorways. At one time, we had a heater borrowed from a friend. It kept us semi-warm.

I remember falling asleep while watching my breath as it made little clouds outside of my body.

It seemed colder in our house than it did outside.

One day while at the grocery store, my mom handed the cashier her money to pay for our items. The cashier made a comment about how cold her money was and asked if she kept her purse in the freezer.

My mom has always been so graceful. I don't remember her showing any signs that the cashier's comment bothered her...at least not in front of us kids.

My mom did all she could to raise us well. She is a strong woman.

I remember my mom taking us to a strange building and telling us to wait in the waiting room. She walked into an office and spoke with a man that I'd never seen before.

This was the first time that I ever remember seeing my mom pray. She bowed her head and sobbed. After that, we were escorted into a gym-like area and given coats that fit and I'm not sure what else.

My mom has always been creative with any circumstance thrown at her.

Before conserving water was the environmental-friendly thing to do, my mom was already ahead of her time.

She would stick an ice chest outside to catch the rainwater for our drinks, quick baths, & to flush the toilet.

I remember trying out for the cheerleading squad and getting ready in a gas station bathroom. I was 9 years old. And through it all, I made the squad that year. This was the beginning of keeping my life a secret. It became my way of life.

It's hard to spend the evening with "J" knowing that we will drop him off at his current "home".

It's horribly cold tonight.

Our church community has offered to pay for a hotel room, but he is a humble man. He carries the burden if his hardships of life and is grateful to at least have a "roof" over his head.

But though he is grateful, I'm sure he'll see his breath tonight as he lays his head down to rest.

And knowing that, it gets harder to sleep comfortably in our warm bed.

Jesus says that there will always be the poor. He doesn't tell us to use this as an excuse to not help.

He came to serve and calls us to do the same.

Until He returns to us again, we ought to fight homelessness with extreme love.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.



*I write this as I sit in my 4 bedroom, 2 bathroom home. From the same seat where I researched ways to conserve water for our garden. And from the same living room that stored sleeping bags for the homeless raised by my 8 year old to provide them a warm bed. It's humbling how He interweaves our past with the present. I find freedom in losing the skeleton key. I will no longer be ashamed.*

A Weekend Cap Via Instagram

Our weekend was jammed packed with productivity! I found 2 amazing Mid-Century pieces to flip, Sergio started the foundation for our garden, the kids played outside in the beautiful weather, & Sergio and I attended our first hockey game!

I learned two things about myself from this weekend:

1. I love mid-century furniture! Once I got my hands on my first piece to flip, I was sold! I may switch our entire (yes, our entire) house over to Mid-Century Modern! It would fit the style & era of our lovely home. (Am I crazy?!)

2. I love hockey!! It's like a professional sports team meets WFC! When the players started to go at each other, I surprised myself by cheering on the violence! "Get him! Fight!!" The fights were the best part of the game! Anyways, we left there with plans (ok, more like dreams!) to purchase a retro camper & seasons tickets for our family.

Go Predators!!

the places that hold our hearts...

For quite some time, I have wanted to display something that shared the places that hold our hearts.  With the fence we found for free, I took the supplies that I had on hand & created a piece of wall art that we love.

My husband and I have moved quite a few times (ok, 15 times) in our 12 years of marriage.  I had to simplify our "places" down to just the towns that we've lived in.  

• Chicago, IL is where my husband grew up.
• Owasso, OK is my hometown.
• We ministered together in Tyro, KS.  My husband was ordained by the elders there & we were also married in the church.
• We lived in 2 different towns a little outside of Mexico City, Mexico as missionaries.
• Joplin, MO is where we met in college & the town we moved to after serving in Mexico.  
• And our sweet Nashville sign is where we currently reside...with hopes of not moving until our children are grown.  

It is now on display in our family room.  

I'm anxious to get our family room completed.  It's gone from this:

To this:

It's still a work in progress, but we've come a long way these past 6 months!

Links where I like to party...

Funky Junk Interiors

www.504main.com

Common Ground

Shabby Creek Cottage

Lydia is 5!

Our sweet Lydia turns 5 today!!  

She was born weighing 7lbs and appeared healthy.  

After a couple of hours, we learned that one lung had collapsed & was filling up with liquid.  The other lung had pneumonia.  I have never felt such sorrow as I did during this time.  

She fought hard and was able to come home much sooner than the NICU doctor originally thought.  This is her holding her daddy's hand.

Best cheeks ever!

Taken by Journeys with Barefeet Photography

Taken by Fran's Photography

Taken by Moments Captured by Emily

She is absolutely amazing!

Happy "5th" birthday to our sweet Lydia!!

K-Mart, a transgender, & prayer

It’s Christmas Eve.

I’m frantically walking the aisles of K-Mart.

I turn down the baking aisle and I see him standing at the end of the aisle.

Call it curiosity, or what have you, but  I was drawn to him.

His dark, long hair, deep eyes, & pale skin.   Who was he?  What is his story?

He must have felt my stare and simply gave me a smile.  With sincerity in my eyes, I smiled back.

We passed by each other and I went back to looking for sugar.

He must have been as curious as I was for he came back around to make conversation with me.

“The choices are slim tonight aren’t they?”  he jokingly asked.

“Yes, they are.  It seems as though I’m out of luck when it comes to finding what I need.”  I replied.

With a 6-pack of Blue Moon and a few cans of soup, he said, “It looks like my items will have to hold me over until after Christmas.”

“Do you not have plans for Christmas Day?”  I genuinely questioned.

“No, I don’t.  I’m new in town and am not partial to celebrating holidays.  They’re not really special anyways.”  He said.

By the tone in his voice, I didn’t buy it.  He stood in front of me in despair.  His life seemed to take some dark turns.

“Why don’t you come over to our house?”

As the words slipped from my mouth, my heartbeat soared.  I began to question myself.  I don’t even know this guy.  Some may call me foolish.

But, I don’t really care what the world will call me.

“Oh, no.  I couldn’t do that.  I’m so shy that I would just sit there.  I wouldn’t want to intrude.”  He gratefully explained.

“Oh, but you won’t intrude.  Trust me, all of us need someone to spend Christmas with.  If you change your mind, let me know.  I‘ll be in here for awhile.”

With that, we said our goodbyes.

I walked a few more aisles.  My thoughts were consumed with him.

As I turned down one end of the chips aisle, he turned down the other end.  We faced each other again.

My palms became sweaty & I looked into his sad eyes and smiled again.

“Hey, what’s your name?”  He asked me.

“I’m Jackie.  What is your name?”

“I’m Jayme*.”

We shook hands.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Jayme.  I’d like to give you my phone number.  If you change your mind, our dinner starts at 4pm tomorrow.  Give my husband and I a call.  We’d love to have you over.”

He handed me his Iphone & I plugged my number into his cell.  It wasn’t until I left the store that I realized  I had made a mistake.

I didn’t get his number.

In our brief interactions, I realized that most of us celebrate Christmas as the day of our Savior’s birth.  The day that brought us hope, love, peace, joy….

Joy.

It is a fruit of the Holy Spirit, coming just second on the list behind love.
It captivated the focus of Jesus Christ. For the joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, scorned the shame and sat down on the right hand of the throne of God.

Joy.

Joy stakes everything on the truth that death could not hold Jesus Christ in the grave. Any circumstance, past present or future, cannot alter that.

For we will one day be reunited with Him.

But to some, like Jayme, it’s just another holiday without any real significance.

I desire for his phone call.

I desire for Jayme, born a man, but now a ‘woman’, to come into our family.

The radical love inside of me wants to share with him the hope that Christ brings.

We don’t just get together on Christmas to celebrate his birth.

No, we celebrate His life, love, & resurrection on a daily basis.  For He is that GOOD!

For Christ can redeem even the worst of sinners, trust me on this.  I once was one of the worst.

I believe without a doubt that Christ can do this for Jayme.

So until I receive his call, I will pray.

Not like a “I’ll pray for you” type of statement, but a bold, begging woman prayer.

A prayer that sends a nagging tug on his heart for something greater.

A prayer that ignites a bush to catch aflame and make his knees tremble.

A prayer that strips away despair  and replaces it with joy.

For it is our Mighty God that can move mountains.

And without a shadow of doubt, I know that He can tap the shoulder of one man.  A tap that turns him
around and into the arms of His grace.

Of His mercy.

Of His forgiveness.

As Jayme left the store, he shouted out to me, “If I see you again, don’t be a stranger, Jackie.”

I smiled and secretly promised, “I’m going to carry you to the feet of Jesus.  You deserve just that.”





*Name changed.