The Justice Conference--Love in Community

I didn’t want to go to The Justice Conference. You can ask my roommates, I complained about it from the time I signed up until Multnomah asked me to write about it here on Deeper Church and said they’d comp my registration. So, you know, my attendance was motivated by a passion for a free ticket, not justice. Go me.



Before you go thinking I’m some horrible person who thinks injustice should be celebrated or that injustice is the cause for which we need to work, let me state very clearly I believe that if you are a Christian you are required to be passionate about and to work for God’s justice lived out here and now on earth. The problem I had with the Justice Conference was that I didn’t think a conference was the way to go about promoting justice. I didn’t want to sit around for two days and listen to people tell me how I wasn’t doing enough or how great all their accomplishments were and how great it made them feel about themselves. It was also a class assignment, which meant I didn’t even get to decide if I wanted to go. I just had to (Hashtag control issues).

But isn’t that the way we discover the injustices that infuriate us? Isn’t that the way we decide we must work to see God’s justice made real in a particular region of the world, or in a certain issue area? We don’t really decide that we want to work for justice, at least not at first. That issue area just grabs us and won’t let us go. God’s heart for His children grabs us and He will not let us go.

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I attended both the pre-conference sessions here in Portland, and then watched the simulcast of the main conference. The pre-conference sessions in Portland were incredible. Each session was packed with amazing speakers, and each speaker shared the ways they were doing justice in Portland and throughout Oregon, and even a few other states as well.

I learned about The Cupcake Girls (more on them later) and their work to love and support women in the adult entertainment industry in both Las Vegas and Portland. I went to two different sessions on the foster care system in Oregon, learning about the challenges, heartbreak, love, and joy that come regardless of what role you play in the system. The Sexual Assault Resource Center (SARC)  session was all about their work to combat sexual assault against young adults, and the ways they seek to empower those same young adults. The day ended with a session on a Christian response to homosexuality, which isn’t as complicated as we try to make it.

These sessions were incredible. I have no doubt that the other twenty sessions I was unable to attend were equally amazing, that those presenters were equally passionate about seeing justice done in the name of Jesus, by the power of the Holy Spirit, for the glory of God.

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I spent Friday’s lunch break with Joy Hoover and Briana McDonald. We got burgers and we talked cupcakes, or rather The Cupcake Girls. It is an organization that was born when Joy, during a Las Vegas vacation with her husband, learned more about the adult entertainment industry. She felt like she had to do something, so the very next day, she walked into a Vegas strip club carrying a box of cupcakes, and began to talk to the women working there.

Fast forward three years, and that one box of cupcakes on a vacation in Vegas has turned into a non-profit that seeks to offer love, support, and the occasional cupcake to women in the adult entertainment world. They host spa days, bring cupcakes and flowers, throw baby and wedding showers, and simply love these women. Beyond that, they have support groups, offer medical and dental services, and even help women move if and when they decide they’re ready to leave. But the purpose, Joy and Bri pointed out to me, is not to convince the women they befriend to leave. The purpose is to love them, and to keep loving them.

It seems small. It seems like it’s not enough. For a fixer like me it seems like they’re lacking an end goal. But then Joy tells stories of the women she’s befriended, and I realize quickly that loving the women in the clubs and brothels they visit is a radical act. Just love. Love without expectation. Love that consistently shows up, whether it is with cupcakes, a visit to the doctor, a rose, or a listening ear. Love that follows through and says, “You are valuable simply because you exist.”

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What encouraged me the most, what stuck out to me the most was the relational, community-oriented approach to justice that was advocated throughout the pre-conference and the main conference. There was a recognition that, while God inclines each of our hearts individually to different injustices, the most effective way to bring His justice into those places and situations is in community and into the communities. Not to be the rescuers, but to come in as bearers of the love and grace of God, lived out in the manner of Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit, so that those experiencing poverty, slavery, incarceration, abuse, and any number of other injustices, might be empowered and not simply rescued.

Because I am not strong enough to rescue anyone. We are not strong enough to rescue all those who need rescuing. I cannot be trusted with the power it gives me to be seen as rescuer. We are not to be trusted with the power that comes with being the rescuer. And to offer rescue alone transfers power from the oppressor to the rescuers rather than to those who have been oppressed.

The only one trustworthy enough and strong enough to be the rescuer is the same one who already rescued me, who has rescued all those who believe in and confess Christ as Lord. Only God can rescue the oppressed. Only God can rescue us.

When we go out to worship God through our fight against the injustice that has so comfortably settled into every corner of the world, let us remember that it is God who rescues. Let us remember that God’s justice works differently. Let us remember that we are just as much in need of rescue as those to whom God has turned our hearts. Let our mission instead be love. Let our mission instead be to listen well and to learn from those who have been oppressed. Let our mission go forward with God always at the center of all we do. Let our mission be that the world would know the love of the Father through the face of the Son poured out by the Spirit.

love beats fear

I pull a sharpie from the mug that sits to the left of my monitor, removing the cap and securing it on the back of the pen.

“Love beats fear.” The sentence fills my mind as I stare at the blank canvas that is my left wrist.

I write the words slowly, carefully. Each letter the same size and width as the last.

Love beats fear.

For all my confidence and self-assurance there is an underlying current of fear that runs through me.

Am I enough?

Am I too much?

Can I really hang academically?

Am I sacrificing one set of dreams in order to achieve the other?

Does He really know the desires of my heart?

Do I understand His goodness so that I experience it as such?

Do I truly believe He is good?

Love beats fear.

I breathe deep those words, attempting to flood my fears with the truth that His love is bigger than my fear.

His love beats fear.

His love has already beaten each and every one of the fears I have ever or will ever encounter.

And still I write this phrase on my wrist. Always finishing it with a box around the words. Because it communicates a finality that I need to know exists.

That His love has already beaten fear.

That His love will continue to beat fear.

That His fear beating love will remain consistent in my life as it has remained consistent since the first two hid behind fig leaves and among trees, fearful of what they knew, overwhelmed by the love of His calling to them.

He calls to me as I hide amidst my fears. Overwhelmed by each of them both individually and collectively.

“Where are you?” He asks, knowing full well I have taken my eyes from Him and from His love and become mired in the details of questions that seem to lack answers--which means the outcomes are out of my control and isn’t that really the issue here?

“Where are you?” His tone is gentle and firm. Both a call to take His hand and a grace-filled reproof.

I look up from among the trees, away from the fears that seem so true.

“Love beats fear,” He says as He envelops my hand with His.

the shape of hope

We talk of many things. Serious things. Funny things. Sad things. Joyful things. Empty things. Hope-filled things.

Some times when we talk we talk about house things. Not appliances or DIY projects for the living room or yard, but whole houses.

Sometimes it is the old house in New England with the wrap around porch, a porch swing in the front and two hammocks in the back. There are chickens and a vegetable garden and dogs. We live in this house, the two of us, no longer as young as we were when we first met. Her hair is still as crazy as it was, but there are streaks of silver mixed in with the auburn and chestnut, and mine is still as stick straight as ever, but amidst the gold there is now white. In the absence of families birthed of our own bodies we have chosen to create family together here. We wile away evenings warming hands with mugs of tea, and begin mornings with coffee on the back porch with the dogs at our feet. We sit sipping tea on an evening in May, and our eyes and smiles meet, because somehow this day has become real.

While my dear friend Lore is taking a hiatus from her blog for the month of May, she's asked several of us to post in her place. This week I am writing about our friendship and about the shape of hope. You can read the rest of the blog over at her website.

same teams

I am talking with friends about the Church, about the divisions in the Body, about the way the fighting and yelling causes me to mourn.

I begin to marvel at the fact that, even with all this fighting, somehow the Spirit still calls out to itself in each one of us, pulling us back to each other.

It is like dodgeball.

We’ve been divided into teams, and we are pressed against the back walls on opposite sides of the gym.

A members from each team stand closer to the middle, rubber balls in hand, waiting for someone to run forward, look away for a second, throw their ball and leave themselves momentarily defenseless.

Meanwhile those already out stand on the sideline cheering, waiting for a ball to be thrown, waiting for the impossible catch which sends the thrower out of the game.

Here, on the internet, we stand, divided into our different teams. A few well known names, and well known posts position themselves closer to the middle, ready to defend the rest of the team.

Occasionally someone darts forward to grab a stray ball, to lob it over to the other side. But mostly we just let those in the middle fire back and forth assuming they are the ones who will win it for us anyway.

What I notice is the way we keep running forward.

The ways we cheer and jeer from the sidelines.

We cheer from the sidelines because we want to be right. We want to win. We want our voice heard last and loudest.

We jeer because we are afraid. We are afraid of being wrong. We are afraid of losing.

But winning or losing is not the point.

And this is where the metaphor breaks down. Because we don’t just run forward to win, to get someone from the other side out.

Sometimes we do. Sometimes we run forward because they ran forward, and we hope in running, in lobbing a ball on their side, it will take them out of the game.

But sometimes we run forward because the Spirit says to run.

Because the Spirit that pulls you forward is the same Spirit that pulls me forward.

Because that Spirit is the same in me as it is in you. It may speak and make itself known differently in me than it does in you, but it cries out to itself from me to you in a way that draws us to one another.

If we stopped for just a minute we would notice that we are all dressed in the same jerseys. We are all playing for the same team.

We all have different roles on this team.

But we are on the same team.

Our shouts should be shouts of victory.

Because this win we are all fighting for? We’ve already got the “W.”

God has already won this battle.

He won it all those years ago on the cross, and when He did He called us together, to this one team, to this one Body, by this one Spirit.

I am on your team. I want to be on your team.

God Disciplined Israel for their Disobedience

“…and for seven years he gave them into the hands of the Midianites. Because the power of Midian was so oppressive the Israelites prepared shelters for themselves in mountain clefts, caves and strongholds. Whenever the Israelites planted their crops, the Midianites, Amalekites and other eastern peoples invaded the country. They camped on the land and ruined the crops all the way to Gaza and did not spare a living thing for Israel, neither sheep nor cattle nor donkeys. They came up with their livestock and their tents like swarms of locusts. It was impossible to count the men and their camels; they invaded the land to ravage it.”

Consequences.

Discipline.

Israel did not like the discipline of the Lord. They ran from it, hid from it in mountain clefts, caves, and strongholds.

The rest of the post appears on A Deeper Church. Head over there to read the post in its entirety.

Israel Did Evil in the Eyes of the Lord

This is the second post in a five part series. It is inspired by the Book of Judges and my studies of that book. Posts will appear here and on A Deeper Church. You can read the first post here.

“The Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord; they forgot the Lord their God and served the Baals and the Asheras.”

The Book of Judges reads like a downward spiral, with each revolution marked by some variation of the phrase, “again the Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord.”

Each time it gets worse.

Each time the person leading the people of Israel gets worse.

Each time it is worse because they have turned more fully away from the Lord.

What was their evil?

It was a violation of covenant. A violation of an agreement with the Most Holy God. The One who brought them out of Egypt, out of slavery. The One who removed them from under the hand of their oppressors. The One who drove out those who would oppress Israel so that they might receive the land of their inheritance.

It was a violation to love the Lord their God and serve Him only. It was bowing down to other gods, to idols made, sometimes from their own hands, instead of the One True God.

It was prostitution of self for the purpose of self-indulgence at the cost of true identity, at the cost of the relationship that mattered most.

I do not have idols of metal, wood, or stone.

But that does not mean I do not have idols.

I do not prostitute myself to Baal.

But that does not mean I do not attempt to sell myself off to the lowest bidder, to the cheapest thrill or hope of love, forsaking the greatest love readily available and freely given in the hope of something that feels a little easier.

Our idols are not the idols of Israel during the time of the Judges. But that does not mean we do not serve idols of our own making, idols of this time, today.

The evil we do in the eyes of the Lord may look different on the surface than the evil of Israel, but the cost is the same. Each choice we make to choose ourselves over Him is a step away from Him and toward the worship of self; the worship of what each one of us sees fit to do.

What calls you from your worship of the Lord?

What tries to promise an easier love than the love available to you in Christ?

Jesus and side hugs

She is perched on the counter, legs crossed, face animated, as she tells me about her week, about what she’s been processing about God and Church and life. I am moving back and forth between cutting board and stove top, preparing a meal for us to share. It is long overdue, and our time together has been via screen rather than face to face for too long.

“Haley. I feel like Jesus would never side hug me!” she says.

I laugh and nod because it is true. And because the way she sees Jesus, the way she loves Jesus is beautiful and true. She calls me out of my scholarship, even as she loves to learn what I am learning, and invites me to dance around my kitchen with Jesus just because.

And, because it’s what we do and how we met, I tweet her statement.

"I feel like Jesus would never side hug me." - @emelina #TRUTH

— Haley Cloyd (@haleykristine) February 17, 2013

We settle onto the couch with plates of dinner, a selection of nail polishes, and James Bond. By the end of the movie her statement has at least 20 retweets. Which, sure, isn’t anything to write home about, or tweet about, but followers and stats are not the point here. The point is that something about Jesus pulling us close with both arms hits home.

Jesus would never side hug you.

Jesus does not side hug you.

He faces you square on, and wraps both of his arms around you.

He pulls you close into a full body hug.

Because Jesus isn’t afraid of you, or of what it means if, in hugging you, your boobs touch his chest.

Because Jesus isn’t afraid of what someone else will think if they see two dudes locked in a full on embrace without any back patting.

Because nothing about the cross is a side hug.

The cross is a full on embrace of the mess and dirt and sin of who we are, exactly where we are.

So no, Jesus would never, ever side hug you. Ever.

you're pretty

Sunnies on. Hair in a pomp and pulled back. Sunroof and windows open. I am ready for what awaits me just a few blocks down the road at my crossfit box.

The light turns red, and I slow to a stop. In the waiting I hear the growl of a motorcycle. I glance over my right shoulder and investigate.

"You're pretty," he growls at me from astride his bike.

My heart sinks, but I know how this is supposed to go, so I smile politely and say, "thank you," knowing he doesn't understand; hoping thank you is enough.

"Boyfriend?" he asks.

My heart sinks lower because I choose not to lie, even though it would probably shut him up. "No," I say, polite smile frozen on my face.

"We should go out sometime," he says, inching his bike forward, anticipating my reply.

My heart drops. I fight the anger and the violation, polite smile still stuck on my lips as I shake my head and say, "No thank you."

The light turns green, and I am grateful for a way out.

My workout is a welcome distraction. The sweat pours down my face as muscles strain and push and pull as the growl of his motorcycle and the growl of his voice are pushed from my mind.

But it doesn’t change the freefall of my heart.

It doesn’t change the desire to scrub the encounter off my skin as I rinse sweat away in a post-workout shower.

It doesn’t change the ache of wanting something true, someone true, someone who sees more than blond hair and a pretty face.

The truth is, while some dude on a motorcycle might think he’s making my day, asking me out like that, he isn’t. He is instead affirming the lie that says, “you’re only good for this. You are too much in any other context.” It is a violation of who I am, of how I look, and of what it means to be in relationship with one another, to love one another as we would be loved.

So no, I do not have a boyfriend, and no I do not want to go on a date with you, and yes, I may be pretty, but I am much more than that.

I am made to be loved for more than that.

***Thank you to Emily, who helped me understand all of this in the first place, and to Preston, for raising hell.

unique and unrepeatable

Each one of us is a unique and unrepeatable miracle of God’s grace.

But I do not always feel like a unique and unrepeatable miracle of God’s grace. More often I behave as though God puts up with me because He made me and now He is stuck with me.

I'm posting over at Deeper Story today. You can read the rest of the post there.

haters gonna hate

It is true. There are people in our lives who love to hate. They love to hate what we love. They love to hate what we say. They love to hate what we do. And most of all they love to hate who we are. They love to hate the expression of Truth because the lies still bind them in darkness.

Let us not be haters. Let us be lovers. Let us be lovers who love the haters. Let us be lovers who feast only on Truth. Let us be lovers of the One True God who speaks only Truth because He cannot abide the lies of sin and death.

Let us love so big, so deep, and so wide that the haters can no longer deny the glory and goodness of the Truth. Let us love so big, so deep, and so wide that the haters become lovers, transformed by blood soaked Truth and Grace.

See more on Know Your Meme

it is about us

So often I think it is about me. About us. About women.

Probably because I am one.

I think of our broken hearts, shredded and lonely, waiting and wondering if anything but Christ and loneliness will ever live here.

I think of tears cried in the darkness and at empty kitchen tables, and smiles forced over cups of coffee pretending stories of others’ togetherness are simply a source of joy.

I think of how it feels to wonder who and to wonder why and to wonder why no one ever just asks, because you never know unless you ask.

But I rarely consider the responsibility you bear, brother.

I rarely think of what it must be like to be the one to ask the question, to make the first move, as your broken, lonely, shredded heart beats a bit faster as you wonder what she will say.

I rarely think of what it must like to face the choice of relationship instead of independence, to choose to love another as Christ loves the Church. For the rest of your collective time on this earth.

Brother, that must be so daunting.

I do not know if I could handle that responsibility.

Of course I have my own responsibility to bear in that same agreement, for the rest of our collective time on this earth.

But, brother, I rarely consider your side.

I rarely wonder what you think or feel late at night in the darkness or at empty kitchen tables or over cups of coffee, or perhaps for you it is pints of beer and cigars.

Brother, I am sorry for thinking it is just me, it is just us, just women.

It is about us, men and women, with hearts on the mend, waiting and wondering if anything but Christ and loneliness will ever live here.

This post is also featured today on Good Women Project. Please take a second to check out their site.

twelve causes for christmas: day one

Over the last year or so I have developed—or rather God has developed in me— a love for His Bride, the Church. I've tended to be someone who distinguishes myself from those Christians, but God has been showing me more and more that those Christians are just like me—or rather I am just like those Christians.

When Joy pitched the idea of Twelve Causes for Christmas to the Deeper Story crew, emphasizing that she wanted people to see that organizations are not in competition with one another for the lost, I knew that even though I couldn't write an individual post, I could most certainly point, and blog, and tweet about what as going on.

There were many emails sent back and forth in a very short amount of time as troops and causes were rallied, spreadsheets were organized, and all of a sudden the twelve causes were ready to roll out. Each of these organizations is out there doing Kingdom work, and it's not about whether you sponsor a child through Compassion or World Vision. It's about whether you are being Jesus to the least of these.

Joy wrote the first post for the Twelve Causes for Christmas. You can read all about the radical love for the homeless that is going on right here in my hometown, Portland, Oregon in Joy's post. Joy highlights the amazing work with and advocacy for the homeless being done by Knowing Me Ministries.

forty-three characters

The phone beeps.

A reminder.

Words, one hundred and sixty characters, max, waiting to be read.

Words from her.

Words I have waited for.

Words I have been afraid to read.

They arrive.

Unexpected, but anticipated all the more with each passing day.

The characters that arrive spell out love and relationship.

The words I read make my heart quicken and pour drops of peace into the anxiety that has filled this body.

The phone beeps, and I do not check the message.

The beeping, every fifteen minutes, reminds me that there is hope and love for this relationship, conveyed in only forty-three characters.

Including spaces.

I know what it says.

I read it when it arrived.

But I let the phone continue to beep.

Reminding me every fifteen minutes that, though there is space between us, there is love and there is hope.

fabulous friday video goodness: the david video

Rather than a music video, today I have a thought provoking, beautiful video.



After watching, take a second to read about the making of the video and visit the illustrator, Annie Ludes's blog.

more faithful than the morning

The sky burned red and gold, clear and fuzzy all at once. Maybe it was my early morning eyes. Maybe it was Him whispering, “Good morning, beloved.”

It’s been so cold here this summer. Empty hands and quiet houses full of only the noises I make.

I’ve spent the summer missing other noises and familiar hands.

I’ve spent the summer longing for different noises and new hands.

But this morning, when the sky was on fire and it seemed like He and I were the only two awake, I felt His faithfulness wrap me up, pull me closer.

This morning when the sun shone bright, shades of spun honey and molten lava all at once, I remembered that I am the one who changes, that I am the one who is inconsistent.

He stands steadfast, ever faithful.

More faithful than the morning.

worth reading 07.29.11

Here it is, your fortnightly dose of things I think are worth the read. This edition feels a bit light, but it's summer time. We should all be outside in the sunshine, not glued to glowing computer screens, right?

1. Oh Max Dubinsky, your writing never ceases to challenge me. As his journey across the country ends, Max shares beautiful, heart-searching reflections about his time on the road.
2. A new favorite of mine, though no stranger to this biweekly blog post, Preston, wrote earlier this week about pornography. His insight that, "about dissatisfaction in a man’s heart and his desire to feel affirmed without the responsibility of being a man worth affirming," blew me over. I don't care if you're male or female, struggle with porn or have never looked at it. READ. THIS. POST.
3. A little less on the spiritual side of things [at least on the surface, don't get me started on how I think it's part of God's kingdom come here on earth to take care of this beautiful planet we've been given], Ryan reflected earlier this week on parenting. In the midst of that reflection he posted a video about an as yet untitled GMO Food Film. Did you know that Monsanto sent over 475 tons of hybrid corn and vegetable seeds to Haiti shortly after the earthquake? Do you know what the Haitians did with those seeds? They BURNED them, and after watching that short introduction to the film project, I think I would have helped.
4. Though she may be out and about having high tea and getting locked in the Tower of London, Joy still had time for this incredible interview with 4Word Women. She offers poignant reflections on the goodness of God and how that impacts our desires for marriage, as well as her thoughts on our generation.
5. Last, but not least, it's not so much a "worth the read" as it is PLAIN FREAKING AWESOME. Lauren and Max are GETTING MARRIED! A love story like this, brought about by our awesome and infinitely wise God must be celebrated. Won't you join me in offering thanks to Him and sharing a little love with the happy couple?

you are valuable

It is a process, this becoming. Becoming what. Becoming who. Becoming all we were ever intended to be. Becoming whole. Shedding layers of falsehood in order to pair down and simply yourself.

Be yourself as you were always intended to be. No worldly bells and whistles. Just you.

Head over to A Deeper Story to read the rest of this post.

beautiful girl

You know those moments when you stumble upon a song and it's just absolutely perfect? That happened to me this morning.

guest post: good friday

I'm posting today over on my church's women's ministry blog, Imago Dei Women. It is a reflection on the separation between Jesus and God that we enter into on Good Friday. It has been interesting, even after writing it, to take time and consider that separation and what that sacrifice means for me, for us, as Christ followers.

prone to wander—a deeper story

I'm posting over at A Deeper Story today, wrestling through adultery...or at least attempting to.

As a single, Christian woman it would be false to say I do not spend time thinking about marriage, both the overarching concept of the sacred union and the specifics of daily life marked by private rituals that would go unnoticed by anyone but the husband and wife. And as that same single, Christian woman, it would be false to say that I do not spend time thinking about adultery.

Not committing it, but about its prevalence. About how it doesn’t discriminate. About how it. is. everywhere. Stories shared by women on blogs I read. Conversations across small tables in coffee shops and living rooms. And once in a tattoo parlor while my skin bled with words of do not worry, her skin bled the name of another woman’s husband.

Read the rest over at A Deeper Story.