I am a full-time youth pastor, a wife, a foster mom, a daughter, a sister, a friend, but I am mostly a daughter of the King. I am a 7 on the enneagram which means I struggle to complete projects, love every single person I meet, and if your reading this I probably think we are best friends. I enjoy collecting water bottles, near suffocating my dog trying to snuggle her, and being around the teenagers God has called me to disciple. I also experience anxiety in a way most could not understand. Anxiety when it’s at its peak in my life can cause crippling effects and wreak havoc in my world. I wanted to share my struggle with you today as I have many times before because if you understand the struggle of anxiety you are not alone.
Another student calls me at 1am with a problem I can’t even type because it is so heart wrenching. Not only is she suffering through it, but she feels alone. The caseworker called today to inform us they found a relative to take the second foster baby we had hopes of adopting. My husband gets irritated with me for barking orders at him because I, in an overwhelming voice and harsh tone, ask him to clean the kitchen. A friend cries to me as she faces the trials of this world and needs my shoulder. My mom and grandparents face health concerns and stressors that would scare anyone who loves them.
It is in all of these moments I am reminded that I am a full-time youth pastor, a wife, a foster mom, a daughter, a sister, a friend, but I am mostly a daughter of the King. It is in these moments where the anxiety begins to creep in that I cannot handle all that is on my chest or all that is put in front of me. It is in these moments I cry out to God and ask Him to please release the weights on my chest and give me air to breathe. It is in these high stress moments where the devil tries to fill my heart, and my mind with anxiety where I hear God softly whisper, “you are mine.”
In my prayer time I continually have been reading Psalm 61:2-4, “From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe.” The greatest part about this scripture is upon first reading I wondered if David meant “from the ends of the earth” literally, but in my continued reading and studies I discovered it was a figurative term to describe his mental state. How fitting that David was exclaiming when we feel like we are just from the ends of all we have that we cry out to God. The trials and struggles of this world may not cease today, but the ability to obtain joy and peace from the Father is ever so present if we only call upon Him.
Today although I am still serving in all of the positions and roles I began this writing with but I am not drowning without air. God has not released me of all of the burdens, or taken away all of my pain, but He has provided me with a peace and comfort that He has and will never abandoned me amidst it all. Psalm 4:8, “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.”I am praying today you can come to the Lord and find safety and assurance that you are never to anxious, too alone, or too heavy burdened for Him to give you peace.
A few months ago my mom called me, I could hear the anxiety in her voice as she said “are you home? I just need to talk to you when your home.” It is when my mom asks if I am home that I know she has awful news. I put my car in park in front of my apartment as my mom told me the doctors found a spot in my Grammie’s lung & they had fear it may be cancer.
I prayed. I text my closest friend and he put it on his prayer chain at his church and I text my friends on the church staff and we prayed. I prayed for God to remove the mass and for the doctors to be in SHOCK that following week at the scan.
At that next scan or maybe the next, it becomes so jumbled when your looking back.. the doctors revealed the mass was cancer, but they would do a surgery to remove it. It seemed like no big deal almost, cancer seems scary, but removing it seemed wonderful.
We prayed. God please let this mass be gone. Perform a miracle, but thank you for the blessing of a hopefully easy surgery.
A few weeks later it came back they couldn’t remove it due to size so my Grammie would need radiation, but maybe not chemo. Here is where I want to pause and share with you my real prayer. Not the fake Facebook prayer in which zero pain is revealed, but my “yes I am a pastor, but it doesn’t change my REAL pain right now” prayer.
GOD WHERE ARE YOU? CAN YOU EVEN HEAR ME? I AM SO FRUSTRATED. I AM SO SCARED. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH MY GRAMMIE MEANS TO ME? HOW IN THE WORLD COULD YOU NOT CURE THIS? HOW IN THE WORLD COULD YOU NOT TAKE THIS FROM MY FAMILY? IN WHAT WAYS AM I NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU TO HEAR MY PRAYERS? GOD, WHERE ARE YOU?
That was my prayer. Raw, real, sad, and scary, but that was it. That was my prayer not just once, but multiple times that week and the week or so to follow.
We prayed. Lord no chemo please no chemo.
New results return, she needs radiation and chemo. She may not lose her hair though!
We prayed. God please let my Grammie keep her hair.
My grammie lost her hair.
….I think at this point of my blog you are realizing why my previous prayer was screaming at the Lord. I also realized a miracle wasn’t occurring, at least not yet. I realized I had two choices. I could be terribly mad at God, or I could keep praying (even sometimes angry prayers) and I could have hope and peace that only could come from Him. I chose the second one. As I changed my prayers a little, God gave me verses like this in my daily devotion (GoTandem is the best if your seeking) and in my Bible as I studied his word…
“I wait quietly before God, for my victory comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will never be shaken.” Psalm 62:1-2
“I am the one who answers your prayers and cares for you.” Hosea 14:8
Slowly, but surely regardless of what the doctors say, regardless of what they continued to say I maintain a hope that surpasses all understanding. Although if you read my story you may ask where is God, but as I awoke today and felt so heavy for my grammie and just started to get that fear again, this was my daily devotion today 5.27.17,
“I cried out to the LORD in my great trouble, and he answered me.”Jonah 2:2
Here is what I hope this blog says to you, I hope as you read this you see a pattern. A pattern of our God who is constantly hearing your prayers, burdens, and struggles. A pattern of love and grace. A pattern of a child of God crying out to her God and although you cant see a mighty miracle from the outside He is constantly calming the storm within her soul. I hope if you read, see, or hear nothing else that you can see the love of God as he speaks to me through his word. I pray and hope that you can see a story that looks as if its hopeless and scary, but realize I have more hope and confidence than ever before. I hope you read this and wonder, “How in the WORLD could she be so sure its going to be okay?” That you re read the scripture God gave to me and realize even when we cant see, He is speaking, He is hearing, He is MOVING. Here is my prayer today, it looks a little different than the one above…
Father,
Thank you for hearing my cries. Thank you for taking my burdens. Thank you for being my rock. Thank you for taking care of my grammie even if her health isn’t great right now. Thank you for every memory, every laugh, every single moment that fills my soul because you made her my grammie. Thank you for your miracle healing that I know is upon her. Thank you for working all things for the good of THOSE WHO LOVE YOU even if I am a little unsure what that means for us right now. Thank you for my papa, and for showing my grammie how strong he is. Thank you for my mom and for keeping her right where she is, in Sylvania for such a time of this for my family. Thank you for every single blessing you are giving to us that we sometimes cant see because of this illness. Thank you for the doctors and nurses caring for my grammie. Thank you for calming the storm in my soul, for being my father, and for holding me in a time when I have never been more scared. I love you God, I feel you, and I just please continue to ask for your love to surround my soul, and my grammie’s every single day in this journey.
Your daughter,
Chelsea.
Praying today you feel the Lord and the peace and joy of the spirit, even if you feel like the storm is too big. Remember, He created it all, what is a big storm to us is a small rain cloud for him.
I woke up this morning like most people in the world woke up this morning. I woke up curious about what the day would hold, worried about how quickly I could get dressed, and wondering how speedy I could be throwing some make up on my face. I then rushed into work before I was 20 minutes late, per usual. Shortly after I arrived at work I got a phone call, the same one that we get almost daily. If this would have been just another day, promptly after receiving this call I would yell loudly “Mr. Dafney CUSTER 2 IS READY FOR YA.” And Mr. Dafney would walk out of the food pantry, usually with a little ensure shake in his hand, nod at me and smile, grab the van key and off he would go. The same protocol and process happens almost every day in the village whether it’s Custer calling for Oaks to pick up milk, or a single mother who needs a bed for her baby, but Oaks doesn’t do delivery… Except they do, because we had Mr. Dafney.
Every day this 85 year old man showed up to Oaks and gave all that he had. It wasn’t much to the average eye, but it was a kingdom treasure to us.
This morning as I took the call from Custer 2 Elementary, I drove the same drive taking the same path that Mr. Dafney would drive almost every single day with the Oaks van on the way to pick up goods for the Oaks food pantry. As I drove today I was struck with such heavy grief. I started thinking things like, “Did Mr. Dafney have any clue when his last drive to Custer 2 was going to be?”, “Did he know that was the last food box he was going to deliver to that single mother?”, “Did he know it was the last time he’d be going into the storage unit to help the elderly man get that chair into his van?” I started to cry in my car, and before I went into Custer 2 I put my head between my hands and sobbed. As I sobbed, I thanked God for Mr. Dafney and for his faithful service. I took a few quiet moments with Jesus and started thinking about his funeral. I started to think about the types of people that would be there mourning the loss of this incredible man.
I started to realize that among the crowd celebrating Mr. Dafney’s home going on Friday would be addicts, individuals without homes, nicely dressed church people, well put together humans, and humans who haven’t showered in weeks.
As I reflected on the potential funeral crowd I realized that that may be the true measure of someone’s life. Maybe it is all of the people you grabbed ahold of on the way to Heaven. Maybe the measure of our lives is not in the money we acquire, the amount of baptisms we perform, or the countless church services we would bow our heads at. Maybe the most real and true measure we have of what kind of life we have lived is the types of people who stand before your casket for your final appearance this side of the kingdom.
Matthew 25:35-40
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, “I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you as a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” (NIV)
I am not sure as you are reading this who would be at your funeral, but I pray to God that when my time comes the room will be filled with the “least of these.” I hope and pray that I live a life that leaves behind compassion, empathy, and a level of care only Christ himself can fully comprehend. I know I have a ways to go, but as I mourn the loss of Mr. Dafney I am also reminded that I have a responsibility to continue loving and living the way he did. I am reminded by every single carton of milk I pick up for the Village, every single addict with a need for food, every single homeless human without furniture… they all deserve my whole heart and my whole attention, for as long as I am on this Earth.
May we live a life that will leave behind the smelliest, chaotic, and most confusing funeral attendance in all of history.
With all of my love, grace, and service, and in honor of Mr. Curtis Dafney Sr.,
There is a Bible story in the book of Daniel, it tells the story of a man who the king sends into a den of lions. Now, there is so much more to the story, but the point is the king says to Daniel in chapter 6 verse 16, “May your God, whom you serve continually, rescue you.” Without going into this entire story I will give you a spoiler… God did rescue him. In fact, scripture tells us in chapter 6 verse 22, “My God sent his angel, and he shut the mouths of the lions.” I want to take a second to think about this story in your very context. What or who are the lions you need God to take out? Now, let me share two of my friends “lions”, as you think about yours.
Jessika was 44 years old. She was a mother, a daughter, a friend, and she was also an addict. I met her at Oaks, she came to serve with us in the food pantry. We sat down and talked because she was having issues with transportation and she wanted to share her story with me. She told me about her last four days at the jail here in Monroe. She shared that for her last four days there she was denied and they claimed to be “out of” soap, toilet paper, and pads. She shared of how dirty it made her feel and how disgusting “the system” was because no one cared. Jessika spoke about getting clean, starting over, and wanted to find community at Oaks as she began serving the week before Christmas. I set her up with her first day, promised her that this was a new day and a new chance, and put two bus tickets on the desk for her to take when she came back the next week. She cried, hugged me, and said thank you.
Jessika died on Christmas. I know God welcomed her with open arms as she experienced a new body, with no chains, and no brokenness.
I met Dan driving him home with his food box this week. Dan spent 40 days in the Monroe jail recently. I asked him how he was doing now that he was out. He said, “full, that is for sure thanks to these food boxes.” I asked him what he meant. He shared stories of all of the meals where he got barely enough calories to even feel awake during the day and the times he was treated like he was nothing. He shared of a friend he knew that committed suicide in that same jail just months before. Dan is a brother, a son, a friend, and an addict.
Dan is still alive, for now, but the jail left him feeling like nothing, like no one, and with no hope.
Last story, I promise. Three weeks ago, when the temperature was about 20 degrees one of our Oaks nurses drove by the jail. A man had been released with clearly what he had on when he got taken in, and it was a t-shirt, flip flops, and shorts. I know, you probably think, “he deserved it.” Well, good thing we don’t get to make those judgements about people, but God does.
Why do we care? Why do these stories matter? Better yet, why in the world would they effect you?
Daniel said, “My God sent His angel.” I wonder, present day, what it looks like for God to send an angel to His people to rescue them? I wonder if the angel God might send… is you. I wonder if we just cared about humanity enough, if God could use us to change the systems of oppression and injustice for people the world deems as, “unworthy.” I wonder if we heard these stories and instead of kept scrolling, we started asking questions. So, let me ask a few…
When is the last time you spent time with someone who just came out of jail and listened to their story?
When is the last time you inquired or started asking questions about treatment at the jail?
Do you have any clue what the next steps are when you do hear about a situation of injustice at the jail? I didn’t either, but it’s a fair question to ask yourself.
How can you lock arms with local ministries, shelters, etc. to support inmates in the jail?
I don’t have all of the answers, in fact, I feel like I have very few, but what I do have is a relentless desire to chase after a God who calls me to care about these stories, these situations, and fight for injustice. I am called, so He equips. He equips and calls you too, and it is about time we get VERY present with the needs of His people and start carrying their burdens the way Jesus carries ours. What is next for me? Writing this blog? No, that is only the beginning. Join me, if you would, in our next steps to advocate for the people God has not left in the lions den without help. That help is you, and the time is now.
The Monroe County Commissioners oversee the jail and here is a few ways to contact them: Phone number, 734.240.7000. Link to commissioners and information: Monroe County Board of Commissioners
Julie Massengill – Monroe County Jail Administrator, phone number: 734.240.7432. Email: julie_massengill@monroemi.org
I remember first hearing pastor Boone explain to me why one of the residents at the shelter got kicked out. She explained that he got nasty with a monitor, tried to fight a bunch of other residents, and was scaring people in the shelter. I remember thinking in my head as she spoke, “thank God he is outta there. What a crazy situation and what a terrible dude.” I continued on serving as a full time pastor, and never gave that situation another thought.
Today, nine years later, I am the Community Outreach Director for that same organization with pastor Boone… Oaks. I spend my days doing all I can to obtain funding for Oaks, connect the community to us, and connect Oaks to it’s community. My day is also filled with being surrounded some of the homeless residents we serve. As I find myself surrounded by them I find myself feeling like I am a character in a beautiful, silly, hysterical, & chaotic novel. I feel whole and changed when I hear their stories, when we share a laugh, and even when we shed tears together. I find myself completely in love with being their advocate, their cheerleader, and most importantly… their friend.
In the last few weeks I have become very close with a tall, emotional, broken, incredibly smart, funny, & charismatic man named James (changing his name for privacy). James tells me the stories of the 30+ years he was in the workforce, his homeless upbringing, and his love for Noah Cyrus (who he discovered on YouTube one day). James is homeless, recently celebrated four days sober, an Oaks village volunteer, an Oaks shelter resident, and James is very much, my friend. James also is deeply aware that he battles mental illness. In our conversation this past week he said, “Miss Chelsea, I am so happy to be sober, but I know how important it is to get on medication to help my mind. I know I need help and I want it and I know Jesus wants it for me.” WORD FOR WORD, absolutely no embellishment for this writing. James was ready, sober, and starting over.
James got a call in with CMH, but they couldn’t help him until after the new year. In Jame’s mind and situation that was already too late, but he was prepared to keep fighting and staying strong. Last night, James got in a physical situation with another shelter resident and was threatening others. Last night was the beginning of a psychotic break for my friend. As James left the shelter, he went to the hospital. I don’t know every detail, but I can imagine (since they sent him away without services or help) that the people he spoke to were a lot like me 9 years ago. “What a crazy situation and what a terrible dude.” The hospital sent him away.
I called James tonight. I told him how much I loved him, he told me how much he loved me and knew I was on his team. Then, he rambled for about an hour as he continued to suffer his psychotic episode. James told me he got a fountain drink from Wendy’s and in the 25 minutes he has been outside so far it had froze solid. James then called back moments later and cried as he continued his episode, “I thought you were my friend, I thought you loved me…” and as I told him I loved him, he hung up on me.
Why do you care about James? Well, because someone reading this will be a CMH worker (God willing), a hospital employee, a cop who see’s people like James all the time, or someone who passed by James at ANY POINT today and let him stay frozen, manic, and outside in negative temperatures, and deadly conditions. My first prayer is that James will find somewhere to stay inside tonight, and that he will somehow be alive tomorrow. My second prayer is the outcry of my heart. My second prayer is that the next time you come across a man like James, you will pull up this blog. You will be reminded that this person in all of their “crazy” is loved so deeply by someone. You will be reminded that he is worthy of all you have to give to get him help. He is worthy of extra time on the phone, a quick Google search for services or options for help, and he is worthy of your efforts that could save his life.
I am exhausted. My exhaustion is not the same as my boss’, Reverend Heather Boone, who has been fighting the systemic racism and oppression for our people since the day she founded Oaks. Her exhaustion is from many more situations and encounters that are inexcusable, tiresome, and heartbreaking. The culprit of my exhaustion is not all of that, although trust me, it get’s incredibly frustrating. The culprit for me though, is that James looked in the eyes of a dozen (and I am sure way more) people today in a psychotic break and not one helped him.
Are doctors, nurses, front desk hospital workers, cops, CMH leaders/caseworkers, etc superheroes who can fix and solve everything? Absolutely not. However, why am I on the phone with James sobbing with him trying to save his life? Why are Oaks team members and employees driving out in the dead of night to find him and get him ANY sort of help, even if it means getting a cop to arrest him, to save his life? Why are we doing all of this for one man? Because not only is James loved by God… he is loved, deeply, by us. He is mentally ill, not unlovable or unworthy. May you remember James’ story the next time you look into the face of someone having a psychotic break and say, “What a crazy situation and what a terrible dude”, and instead say, “I am determined to do all I can to get this man help and services immediately to save his life, NO MATTER what it say’s I don’t have to do on paper. No matter the couple of extra minutes, or hours at work. No matter the priorities on my desk at this second. No matter the annoyance he is bringing to my desk. Please, for the love of every single mentally ill human MADE BY GOD, would you start giving them all you have and not just what you deem they deserve.
Would you echo this prayer with me?
God,
We come before you with a sense of urgency. A sense of urgency to get James indoors and safe. A sense of urgency for organizations to start giving all they have, all the time. A sense of urgency for every single human that came across James and gave up because he was “too crazy”, or “too much”, or “outside of their realm of services.” God, would you protect him, redeem him, and remind him. Remind him of his true heart, his God given compassion, intelligence, and compassion. Would you take what the enemy is meaning for ruin and death, and bring your light and LIFE into his story? Would you move mountains in Monroe, move money in the right hands for Oaks to do more, and would you continue to give our Oaks team the strength to continue having the eyes to see as they always have, and as they always do… like you. God, give us the ability and strength to give them all we have, in your precious name. In Monroe, on 2nd Street, as it is in Heaven.
Amen.
P.S. – Please do not read this in a tone that is anything except a cry for help. If you are in this field or any fields I named above and giving 100% to everyone you can, loving your family, and protecting your own mental health… Let’s shake hands and hug to remind each other we are in this together. This blog isn’t mean to shame, it’s meant to bring awareness that there is always at least a LITTLE more we can do, and if each of us did just that, James might be on meds right now. I hope you know how loved you are, how amazing you are doing if you are doing your best, and how much God hears your cries. Also, I love you. Thanks for taking the time to read my writing.
A letter to my grammie that I wrote a day too late.
Processed with VSCO with kt32 preset
A letter to my grammie that I never got to read her…
Grammie,
I remember the first time I realized how big my love for you was. I was 10, and I was hot on your heels in the kitchen and you turned to me and said, “Chels, I am going to trip over you if you keep following me everywhere.” As I laughed, I realized I was doing because one of the safest places in my entire life was being close to the heels of you. I remember papa putting me to bed in my bedroom at your house, but I always came out. I always came out because I knew if I talked at you long enough through the vent, you would eventually come up and read me another bedtime story. I don’t know anyone who does the voices and characters like you.
When I was a teenager, you held me close during heartbreaks and opened your door to me no matter how reckless or hardheaded I was being. My room at my grammie and papas was always open. As I became a young adult, I treasured you more than ever as I remembered our moments with the snapdragons in the backyard, our lunch breaks at your desk at Northview, and your precious cards and thoughtful gifts no matter how tight money was.
Around 5 years ago, when you got diagnosed with cancer, was the first time I had to begin to wonder what would happen to me, if something happened to you. I immediately got into therapy, LOL, but truly… I couldn’t even imagine it. Mom would try and tell me that you wouldn’t live forever, and I probably did need to start trying to think about the possibility that you wouldn’t make it, but I just couldn’t.
Over this last year and a half (after you already beat cancer) I sat in the ICU more times than I can count begging God to give me more moments because I just cannot do this life without you. I realize now my prayers were so selfish because you were in so much pain. I want you to know I never meant to keep you here in such struggle, but my heart feels unexplainably empty without you here. I would do anything for you, truly. I would have done anything to change the circumstances or to bring you back. I would do anything to be able to read this letter to your face while you told me to, “knock it off” because you hated these types of conversations.
So, let me make a few promises that I intended to pinky with you when we had the chance…
Grammie, I promise to be a better homemaker. I cannot even list the number of times you wanted me to cook more and I was too busy. I am so sorry we didn’t end up side by side in the kitchen for all the recipes we bookmarked on Facebook together. I also promise to be a mom that paid attention like you did. I promise to give gifts that required listening, write cards that make others cry, and try not to miss the games, class parties, or lunch break moments. I promise to donate to the humane society, check up on Gracie, and get the family together (no matter who voted for Trump- I swear)! I promise to wear my hair down more, take trips to the beach more, get back to Mackinaw Island and stand right under the arch holding your photo in my arms. I promise to live the rest of my life as a person with integrity, honesty, and good character because it is what you taught and modeled to me. I promise to treat others with an unremarkable kindness (until the food ends up coming out cold), and I promise to tell Rory every single day (when I am strong enough to talk about it) about the beauty, grace, and wonder that was her Gigi.
Grammie…
I hope there is a way my words fall right from my gut wrenching sobs, to your incredible, fully healed body.
I love you more than any drop of water in the ocean, and to the moon… and back. Until we dance together again…
I will be missing you more than any words could capture.
I normally write about where God meets me in my life and the way I think we can all relate and connect to that. Today, I want to share what helped me talk to my toddler about death. Motherhood and ministry can be so tough to navigate together, but I am thankful for the ways ministry helps shape how I am as a mother.
First things first, I had to ask the question, “where has my toddler really ever been exposed to death?” Besides talking a lot about my papa in heaven she really hadn’t. So, we started with these two books at bedtime. This helped expose Rory to a conversation about heaven, Jesus, and death. As we read through these books we added a lot of our own experience of people we love in heaven like papa and Deema fish. I think this helped a lot to set up a conversation with our three year old about the death of her aunt.
The second priority we had was speaking quickly and clearly to keep her attention. Quickly because she is three and loses focus so quick, and clearly because studies suggest she has the capacity to understand more than we give her credit for. An article that was really helpful to us is linked below. PsyD, Rahil D. Briggs writes, “Go at the child’s speed. If too much information is given at once, they may get more worried or confused.” We told Rory all we could, gave her space to ask questions, and moved on when she was ready even if we were not.
The third thing we didn’t do, but wish we would have done is be as prepared as possible for the funeral home. I am just going to list three things we wish we had done that might help a fellow parent or caregiver when dealing with death and having a toddler.
1.) I wish we would have drawn a picture for Aunt Casey or printed off a picture or her and her aunt to hold or have.
2.) Packed more snacks. If I could go back I would have packed a million and one snacks.
3.) Packed more activities for her including toys, new iPad games/shows, and coloring/activity pages.
Some of that above list may feel “basic”, but the truth is when you are experiencing heavy grief a lot of the little things are things you tend to forget. My hope is that in sharing the places I fell short in my journey of being a mother, being a minister, and being a hurting human it will help you to feel more equipped when the time comes that you too have to navigate death with your little ones.
A prayer we prayed together as a family:
God, Thank you so much for the way you come alongside us in times of grief, sadness, and hardship. Today, we want to thank you for the incredible memories, moments, and stories we experienced with Aunt Casey that even death and heaven cannot take away from us. You have promised that you are close to us when our hearts are broken and we need you. Be with us, Lord, and let us find comfort in when we talk and pray to you. Help us to follow you, to talk to you, and to find happiness with you. We also know that you promise us that we get to be in heaven too if we believe in you. Help us to be remember today that we, too, will one day be face to face with our Aunt Casey in a fully healthy body with no pain in the best place ever, heaven. We love you so much. Thank you for blessing us with the gift of Aunt Casey. We love you, Amen.
May this blog come to you in the time in which you need it, and may God draw so near to you in your time of heartbreak and grief. You are loved.
There was a trend not too long ago where if I did anything that was considered “uncool” a teenager in my life would look at me and say, “trash bro.” Before you point out that I am, in fact a female and not a “bro” let me just say when working with teenagers that fact is the least of my concern in their languaging. I typically read the Palm Sunday story with the same attitude the teens I minister to have when they watch me try and shoot my used napkin into the tiny garbage can… “that’s trash.” I don’t often read scripture or any literature and think the people in it are actual garbage, but I have always read the Palm Sunday story with a bit of a chip on my shoulder.
Matthew 21:9 teaches us that the people threw palms in celebration before the feet of Jesus as He rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. They were excited, and eager to welcome the King. They shouted “hosanna” to Jesus, celebrating that the one who saves was riding into their place, their town, to save their people! If you know anything about Holy Week though soon many of those same people would be shouting at the foot of the cross eagerly awaiting the murder of King Jesus. Can you see now why I would read about these “wonderful and excited” people and yell, “trash bro” in this story? It is because I know what will happen in just a matter of days, they will all betray and turn on Christ. Total trash, right?
This year Palm Sunday means more to me than ever. It is a reminder to me that while those people were wrong and hypocritical Jesus journeyed to the cross for them, too. If Jesus went to the cross for the people that most of us would point to and say, “trash” then we fit right along with his tribe! We are not all actual garbage, and I hope you know that because you know when a teenager says that to you they aren’t meaning actual garbage either. What it does mean is that these people suck, for real.
Those people were so celebratory of Jesus and then turned their backs and cheered for him to die. The “end” of the story you ask? Jesus did die… for them. He died for the people we don’t understand, the misfits, the outcasts, the ones who support the opposite political party as us, the outsiders, the ones who were and are … wrong. Jesus died and loves them so unimaginably big. So, if Jesus loves the people who are wrong, what good is that for us who are right? Well, take a deep breath with me here, count to 5 and let it out… we aren’t. We aren’t right, but the beauty is none of us are. The Bible leaves a lot of room in a lot of instances for interpretation and that means when we disagree with people about our theology, lifestyles, relationships, etc. one of us might not always be getting it right. In fact, James 4:6-7 teaches that God gives grace to the humble. Wouldn’t you rather error on the side of humility than righteousness?
I hope during Holy Week this week you can take space to be comfortable being (as a student might say) “trash bro” just like the people waving their palms in Jerusalem. The reality is we are all trying to figure out how to bring the Kingdom to Earth and share the love of Christ. I am way more careful now to point fingers at the people I disagree with and instead want to invite them to the table and share about the one thing I am undeniably for sure about. That Jesus’ love and grace is big enough for me, and for them. Jesus’ love and grace is big enough for all of the people we don’t understand or agree with, and sharing the kingdom with them looks a lot like choosing to be humble when we would rather to be heard.
Wouldn’t you rather error on the side of humility than righteousness?
Let me leave you with a Nadia Bolz-Weber quote on this beautiful, messy, hypocritical, holy, sacred, Palm Sunday. “Because these embarrassing people of the Holy Week story are we people. And we people are the likes of which God came to save from ourselves. God did not become human and dwell among us as Jesus to save only an improved, doesn’t-make-the-wrong-choices kind of people. Because we, as we are and not as some improved version of ourselves…we are who Jesus FOR SURE looks at (in all our cringe-worthiness) and says, “yep. these are mine.”
(The artwork is Triumphal Entry by Emmanuel Nsama, 1969.)
The Christian church has to be the most bizarre thing to witness as an outsider. I cannot imagine having 0 knowledge of Ash Wednesday and then seeing dozens of people with ashes on their forehead and Genesis 3:19 all over social media, “from dust you were formed, and to dust you will return.” I am sorry… formed from what?
Ash Wednesday in it’s most basic description, is a day to confess sins, ask forgiveness from God, and think about the fragility of our lives. It also marks the beginning of Lent. Lent observes the 40 days (ending with Easter) that Jesus spent fasting in the desert, according to the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, before beginning his public ministry. Ash Wednesday is a day filled with somber inward reflection, and conversations with the one who knows the depths of our souls greater than anyone else, God.
I have often struggled when sermons in the church do not line up with actions outside of it. For Ash Wednesday this year I not only want you to have a base level understanding of what we are observing, but also some action steps you can take during the day to truly live out what you will hear preached across pews in America. Let me leave you today with three things I truly think will help us to live out Ash Wednesday in a holy, beautiful, and meaningful way.
1.) Seek God continually.
What would it look like to set your alarm to go off every hour tomorrow to take 30 seconds, 3 minutes, or even 30 minutes to just talk to God. Maybe you tell God how sorry you are for the way you have been living. Maybe you tell God how mad you are at the life is going. Maybe you just sit with God, alone, in silence. Our prayer time is not always about what we say, but about being with God in the first place.
2.) Send 25 meaningful text messages. Answer every phone call (NO MATTER WHAT). Respond to every message or text the second you receive it.
I like to call this one the, “Bob Goff Method.” Bob Goff is a christian author who is committed to answering every call he gets. He even put his phone number in the back of one of his most popular best sellers in hopes to encourage people to call him because as promised, he would pick up the phone! When it comes to thinking about the fragility of our lives it only feels appropriate to live everyday communicating with the world as if it may be our last. When is the last time you told your boss what you appreciate about them? When is the last time you reminded your mom, a friend, a teacher, or even the grocery store bagger that they are amazing? When is the last time you truly lived the entire day getting back to people and appreciating them as if you wouldn’t have another day to do it? Ash Wednesday is a perfect day to start.
3.) Share scripture with someone.
As sweet as it can be, I don’t mean reminding the world that if they don’t repent, they are going to hell. I think because we are deeply connected with God and understand the meaning behind and the importance of repentance, there is a different message the world needs to hear today. It is a message of love, grace, unity, and sacrifice. We believe in a God who gave EVERYTHING to be connected to us. The world, more than ever, needs to see, hear, and be told that truth. Let me encourage you today to share Bible verses like,
1 Corinthians 16:14
Romans 8:38 (my ultimate favorite)
Joshua 1:9
Psalm 36:7
Romans 5:5
1 Peter 4:8
John 13:34-35
John 15:13
Take time today, as we inwardly reflect on our lives and relationship with Christ, to also share and be an encourager to others of how deep, how wide, and how beautiful God loves them.
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Ultimately, I hope long beyond Ash Wednesday you are reminded that at your most vulnerable, your most unmasked face, at the depths of your darkest hour… God’s love is never stripped from you. “To dust you were formed, to dust you shall return…” All while clinging to the one who made us, loving the world as Christ did, & sharing His love as often, and as passionately, as we can.
Today is August 30th and it is National Grief Awareness Day. The definition of grief is, “Deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death.” I am unsure that definition even scratches the surface of what grief is or feels like.
I think we experience grief in a lot of different situations. The loss or change of a job, life transitions, death, etc… I have experienced grief more than once, but almost three years ago this January I experienced the death of my grandpa. My papa was one of my greatest friends, advocates, & examples. My papa was also like a father to me. Losing him was the heaviest grief I have ever experienced in my life. It was heavy the day he died, it was heavy the month after, and today, almost three years layer, it is still so heavy.
My papa in Charleston. I took this photo while we were waiting for my Grammie to be done in one of the shops. He was such a patient man.
I want to take some time to write to you about a few things that have really helped me to not only survive while living in grief, but find peace throughout it’s heavy burden. I am not a therapist, or a grief counselor, but I hope my experience and story will provide you with just a little glimmer of hope that you can find spaces in grief where wholeness, & peace are possible.
I took this while we stood on the beach together on what would be our very last vacation.
1.) Let Yourself Feel the Memories.
In the beginning of my journey with grief I remember doing all I could to suppress every memory with my papa. I would tell myself, “don’t don’t don’t”, each time a memory would arise. I would do this as a defense mechanism in order to not feel pain or immediately break into tears. What I soon learned is those memories wouldn’t disappear and dealing with them all at once would cause outbursts of anger or sorrow that I struggled to deal with. Taking time each day to feel those memories, talk with my papa, write in a journal, etc. really helped me to manage my grief everyday rather than in overwhelming outbursts that I couldn’t control or manage.
2.) Seek Guidance.
Your best friend may be the best sounding board, but if they haven’t spent their education or career on grief counseling or therapy then they are not the guidance you need. I waited over a year to see a therapist to manage my grief, and I regret how long I waited. My therapist helped me identify what was trauma versus what was grief, and how to work through those things. She has been such a support to me as I navigate the death of my papa and how it effects my everyday thoughts, & life.
On one of our many trips to South Carolina together.
3.) Spend Time in the Memory.
One of the things grief does to so many people (and almost did to me), is it tries to rob you of any time honoring the memory of your loved one. I remember not allowing myself to even drink a Coke, go to the beach, or look at pictures of my papa because it was so gut wrenching that he was gone. Anything that reminded me of him I had just decided to cast away. It almost robbed me of some of the most beautiful things that allowed me to feel close to him. Now, as I work through my grief I try to spend at least one day a month doing something that makes me feel close to my papa. Sometimes I do it while I am sobbing, other times I do it while feeling his embrace and feeling the most joy surrounding me. Take time today to create space that allows you to feel so close to the memory or the situation that brings you that dark, and heavy grief.
A message my papa sent to me that I got to save as we said goodnight one evening.
I know this blog won’t take away your grief, and it probably won’t change it, but I hope it reminds you that grief doesn’t have to have the final word. Your memories are so precious, therapy is beautiful, & you are not alone in the darkness of grief. I hope this blog has been a source of light for you, and I pray it serves as a tool to help navigate another day in our heartbreak, together.
I love you, I am praying for you, & I pray your grief can also serve as a reminder that you loved so deep… something no one can take away.
I wish I had all of the right words to speak today, but I just don’t. I lament, cry, fear, and feel so deeply broken for our brothers and sisters in Afghanistan. Instead of choosing to post about politics, who is wrong and who is right, or all of my personal feelings I chose to post a prayer instead. Hopefully, as you read this, our hearts can be aligned as one and we can be a praying people, together.
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”
Psalm 46:1 1
Father, Protector God,
Would you wrap your arms around your people in great turmoil? Would you be present amidst the complete darkness that reigns in Afghanistan? Would you please hold so tightly to the people there who need to know your love? Would you give hope and comfort to the missionaries who have spent countless time there proclaiming Your word to the people?
“But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.”
2 Thessalonians 3:3
Would you hear our hearts specifically pray for …
People in Afghanistan who do not know you yet
People in danger, people who are scared
Children who need to be protected
Leaders who have fled, and civilians who have family that remain in Afghanistan even if they have made it out
Hospital Workers and patients
Elderly and Newborns who cannot flee themselves
The schools and education buildings
The Airports and country exits
Missionaries servants who have worked so tirelessly there
Church buildings
The US & Afghanistan military
“Deliver me from my enemies, O God; be my fortress against those who are attacking me.”
Psalm 59:1
Now, God would you hear our plea for the Taliban.
It seems unbelievable that we could pray for such evil, such hate, such danger, but God only you can turn those things into grace, mercy, & love. Would you reach them in ways only you could? Would you do the mighty work of a miracle within them and among them? We know that war is not your way, but this group knows no other life. Can you find ways, paths, miracles to show them it doesn’t have to be this way? That peace can reign, that light can shine, that justice is only found in you, God. The reality is these are the places you can do the most work, places of complete darkness.
“God did not enter the world of our nostalgic, silent-night, snow-blanketed, peace-on-earth, suspended reality of Christmas. God slipped into the vulnerability of skin and entered our violent and disturbing world.” ― Nadia Bolz-Weber
Can you please re-write this story God? Can you please draw near to Afghanistan, it’s people, & even find your way into the hearts of the Taliban and all they seek to destroy, control, and take. Specifically, would you draw near just as you did when you born into the world, to these specific places?
That the Taliban would remain out of Panjshir Valley.
Kabul
Jalalabad, & Mazar (that currently still remain under government control).
Maulana Jalaluddin Balkhi International Airport
Hamid Karzai International Airport
Herat and Kandahar (both cities fell to the Taliban late last week).
For Dubai and Istanbul as many seek protection and peace there as they flee Afghanistan.
I am sobbing many tears as I write these prayers for us to pray together. May we also pray for the people who cannot afford the skyrocketing prices to leave Afghanistan? The families who do not have resources, or able bodies to travel? Can we lift up the newborn babies being born into this violence and tragedy? The family pets, farms, animals, and creatures who will die as a result of the fleeing nation. Let us not forget to lift up the forgotten, the homeless, the lost, the runaways, the drug abusers, the prisoners (the largest in Afghanistan, Pul-e-Charkhi Prison), the elderly, the abused, the hospitalized, and all of the people the news may never report about.
God,
Help Afghanistan and it’s people. Help it in a way our prayers could never express but our hearts feel so deeply. Please move, speak, and hold those people so tightly. Comfort, overwhelm, & protect them. God, only you can. Please do what we need you to do for those people. We believe that you can, we pray that you will, and you know you already are.
خواهش ميکنم لرد خواهش ميکنم آمین
please, Lord, please, Amen.
Chelsea.
Resources to check into as you move from prayer to action:
As you begin to read the words I have so delicately chose to type and share with you I must give a few disclaimers. I am not a marriage expert nor do I have the perfect marriage. I am a 30 year old woman living the dream with her soul mate, but the journey it has taken to get here is one worth sharing. I hope as you read this blog you will find places where you connect, relate, & get a sign of relief realizing you are not alone! Thank you for being in this space, and reading parts of my soul as I have shared them here for you, for us.
Three years ago I was returning home from the mission trip of my dreams. I had just spent 10 amazing days serving in Guatemala and I could not wait to return home to my 8 month old foster daughter, and my husband of 5 years. Tyler and I met when I was 19 and he was 26. We fell madly in love, fast, I thought we were living a beautiful love story when in fact things were quickly falling apart. I returned home and Tyler was distant, cold, and confusing. Without sharing too much, on top of this odd distance we got the news we were losing our foster daughter (who we were in the adoption process for). Our hearts were shattered, and that only added to the dark cloud looming over and within our marriage.
We lost Onna in the middle of August & that week Tyler declared to me that he no longer wanted to be married. After 8 years together, Tyler moved out and said he needed space and a divorce. By the grace of God he never filed for divorce, and I know now that is because it was never truly what he wanted. Our separation began at the end of August 2018 and by early September I had been let go from my full time ministry position. Along with being let go, it felt as if I had been shunned by my entire church and many were whispering about our situation as it was shared publicly. I had never been so broken, lost, & helpless in my life, but that was not how our story ended. In fact, hold on tight because God did some pretty incredible things.
November 2018 I got a new full time ministry position, moved to a new city, kept distant contact with Tyler, and continued to beg God for my marriage back. I never stopped praying for Tyler to come “home.” There are so many details that won’t make it into this blog (including how we became parents to a new baby girl in December of that year), but I guess you’ll have to read my book (hey, a girl can dream right? 4 chapters done so far) for the full story. It was a snowy day in February and a knock came upon the door of my small apartment. I opened it to find my husband, crying, with his head hanging low. He began apologizing, and declaring he wanted to come home…wherever home would be now.
The definition of valor is, “great courage in the face of struggles and danger, especially in battle.” You would never think of needing valor when zealously reciting your vows at your wedding ceremony, but valor is one of the most important things that has been required of me in these last 7 (almost 8) years of marriage. I had to have great courage, and even greater faith, in the face of something that was not always beautiful and easy. I think every great marriage requires valor, and I also think every great marriage will face struggles, and battles. In the last three years that Tyler has been home, and we have rebuilt our marriage, I have found a few things to be most important. I would love to share those things with you.
We must discover moments of compromise. When I used to think of compromise I would think of the big moments. Of course we must compromise on where we will live, what car we will drive, where our jobs will take us, etc. The tough reality of compromise is that it matters deeply in the places we never think about. Where you go out to eat, what you watch on TV, where you attend church, who you spend extra time with, which family dinner you attend, are just to name a few. All of these small decisions start to feel completely dominating if you aren’t meeting your spouse halfway. When is the last time you eagerly attended your partners favorite extra curricular activity? When is the last time you let your partner choose the TV series? When is the last time your partner called the date night shots?
2. We must be willing to learn, and develop marriage skills. No matter the job you are doing, there was a time, or even years of schooling or training you had to attend in order to perform said job. We will spend almost every moment outside of our jobs with our spouse. Our spouses deserve the best version of us and that means we are constantly growing and learning. Marriage takes incredible communication skills, patience, grace, and the deepest love we will ever experience this side of heaven aside from the love of God himself. Why then, would we not continue to do what we can, to discover the best tools and the best practices to model those previously mentioned qualities in our marriage. We must be willing to read, listen, and put great effort into how we can be a better spouse. If we would do it for a job, how much greater does our spouse deserve that from us?
3. We must understand selfless love in the most deepest way. I truly believe I know and understand selfless love because of my relationship with God. It is through God’s incredible grace, and love that I was able to open the door to my husband again after all we had been through. I am not going to convince you (if you are not currently) to become a Christian through a blog, but I will say the health of your marriage relies on how deeply you understand what it is to be completely selfless.
This is one of the most complex requirements in a marriage. It is complex because you are a whole person, and your needs and wants need to be met too. I do not want you to read this and think you should have no hobbies but to serve your partner. I do want you to read this and realize if you and your partner practice complete selflessness in your marriage then you both will have your needs and desires met. Selflessness is serving your partner in a way that puts them above yourself. It is seeking to make the world a place that is about them. How can you create space where they feel seen, heard, and cherished? Selflessness is a quality that can turn a battle into a victory. Selflessness is modeled after God, and can be the most beautiful and holy piece of your marriage.
““Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.”
Maya Angelou
I shared a short piece of my marriage testimony before sharing a few things I have learned because I want you to realize the depths of darkness we have survived. I want you to know if you feel like you are in the trenches with your spouse you are not alone. You are not alone, and it may not be over or “too far gone.” Maya Angelou wrote that love recognizes no barriers. The reality is, it does not. Love can take any dangerous battle, and produce valor within its vows. Love can always have the last word when darkness seems to have finished the book.
Marriage truly can be the most incredible gift God has given us, but it takes so much commitment, work, and love. I believe, no matter how dark your story feels, it can have a beautiful ending. I believe that because I lived in the scariest place of my life with a divorce in sight. Three years later, I write to you as I’m looking across the living room of our beautiful home watching my sweet husband sit in his recliner wearing the most precious silver wedding ring.
Our story was re-written, new life was born, redemption arose. You may not need your story revised, but maybe you needed to be reminded of the compromise, continued learning, and selflessness it truly takes to have the incredibly beautiful marriage you desire. I wish I would have been late night scrolling on Facebook three years ago and someone shared these things with me. I hope if nothing else tonight, you feel encouraged, empowered, and filled with hope. Encouraged that you can grow and change, and compromise if and when that is what your marriage needs. Empowered that you can be as selfless as you choose for your spouse. And filled with a hope that marriage is work for us all, but it is the most incredible gift worth working and fighting for.
I see you marriages of valor… it will always be worth it.
You are loved,
Chels.
*An important note and addition to this blog, the struggles and battles I am referencing are never mental or physical abuse. Please do not ever feel coerced or compelled to stay in a marriage where you are being abused in any way. Please visit this website for more information and resources on domestic violence.*
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