On the Run - by Melody Farrell

I've taken up running lately. (I know... Ew.)

I've never much liked being active or physical, but over the last few years I've discovered that it's the only way to keep my mental and emotional health in check. So I've tried my hand at many different forms of fitness - yoga, kickboxing, weightlifting, spinning, Zumba - you name it, I've done it. Running was the one thing I tried to avoid because it just seemed so... boring. The monotonous pounding of feet to pavement or treadmill was very much less-than-exciting. In fact it seemed a bit tortuous.

But in an effort to vary my routine, I gave running a half-chance. And I've gotta tell you... there are days when it is my absolute favorite way to work out. I never want to do it before I start - it's always a difficult task to psych myself up to begin. And it's never all that fun for the first mile or so. But once I get in my groove, once I'm able to forget about my body and allow my mind to engage the music I am listening to or the prayers I am praying as I run, I discover this sort of "high" (you've heard of the runner's high I'm sure) that makes me feel like I could literally keep going forever. 

And I keep feeling that way... until I stop. Once the run is over, I begin to feel the stress on my body. Knees aching or blisters on my feet or back protesting - none of which I felt or cared about while I was in the middle of the run.

Alright, enough about my supposed mastery of physical fitness (I still have a loooooooong way to go, I assure you). The point of it all is this:

I run spiritually too. And mentally, and emotionally. I run towards things. I'm discovering this about myself more and more every day, and God taught me a pretty important lesson about it this week. I'm finding that I operate best when I'm on the run. In fact I think I subconsciously create things to run towards. I look for targets to run at - whether it be an event, a conference, a business goal, an important meeting, a milestone for my kids - just something to keep my mind on what is ahead. And whenever I am focused on something to run towards, I'm in a safe zone. I'm almost invincible. I don't feel all the things I'm running from - the depression, fear, anxiety, sadness, uncertainty, and hurt.

I had an extremely rough day this week - a full on crash. In my bed, crying for hours, unable to operate. I hadn't had one of those days in a long time and I was pretty upset to be faced with it again. I thought I had beaten that! Moved PAST that crippling defeat. All I could think was, God, where are You here? Didn't You already win this battle for me???

In analyzing why I was where I was, I realized that the crash had come because I had stopped running, just for a moment. Just for a breather. A month of insanity had just been completed and I had a day or two before I had to tackle the next set of obstacles and goals and items on my agenda. But instead of being able to rest and heal and prepare to move forward again, I allowed all the things that had been chasing me to attack me at once. And I crashed.

For a few hours. 

And then... I decided it was time to run again. I refuse to let that depression back into my life. I defy it. And so I began to plunge head-first into the next set of places to run.

But then, God - in His quiet, loving, gentle way - spoke to my heart.

Melody... You are tired. 

Yes. Yes, I am tired. I am so, so, so tired. I am not meant to run forever, non-stop marathoning from one goal to the next without ever taking time to rest and heal. But I don't know how to stop. It's too scary to stop. I can't fight all the monsters off, and if I stop, they all attack. I might have a pretty killer jump kick and a mean right hook, but I can't fight them all off at once. And I told God so.

I wish he had given me the clear and perfect answer as to how to stop this cycle I have found myself in. But I think the process of my discovering the answer is part of the journey I am meant to be on right now. So it's not completely clear in my mind how I am supposed to change.

But... He gave me a place to start.

He told me I'm allowed to run. I'm created to run. I'm pretty darn good at it. But I'm not made to run away from pain. And I'm not made to run towards "objectives" and goals and targets of my own choosing. I'm made to run towards HIM. And when I find the rhythm of my footsteps and cadence of my breath that takes me towards His heart, then HE will fill me with the energy to keep the pace. As Hebrews 12 says, "let us run with patience this race that is set before us". When we run to HIM, He will "strengthen feeble arms and weak knees", and He will "make level paths for our feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed".

I don't have it all figured out yet, but I've gotten this far: I don't have to sprint and crash my way through life. There is a better way to run.

Don’t Be Afraid Of Change, Embrace It Instead - by Thomas Fernandez

What we as human beings fear most is change. That change can be losing a job, a first relationship or even the friendships around us. Now losing these things is one form of change, but there are others—such as new beginnings and journeys—with unknown destinations or daily tasks.

The truth is that human beings strive for consistency. We crave it, but at the same time, we crave the unknown. It’s a bit of a catch-22. We want things to stay the same but we also want something new. We want our cake and we want to be able to eat it as well. It doesn’t work like that. When something changes, it transforms us.

As Christians, the words “transform” and “change” are almost synonymous. The one exception is that realistically “change” still has a stigma of fear attached to it because the human mind, on some level, fears the unknown of change.

Here’s the thing—while we as humans both strive for consistency and crave change, God has a better way of looking at it. He wants us to embrace all of the changes of our lives because they help us grow. He has given plenty of examples of what change can do for His people throughout His word.

Change can be adversarial and most of us associate the word change with an adverse situation such as loss of friends, family, job and income. This is why the stigma of fear is attached to the word “change” and we get scared of having things change for the worse. However, we shouldn’t fear change, as it is a part of God’s plan to grow us into who we need to be. 

Charles Stanley seems to have said it best with this quote:

“Often times God demonstrates His faithfulness in adversity by providing for us what we need to survive. He does not change our painful circumstances. He sustains us through them.” 

That’s right, change is a way for God to demonstrate his faithfulness to His people, to the promises of love and devotion He has for us.  He isn’t going to make the problem go away or have us shy away from the challenge of change, because that wouldn’t help us grow or recognize His blessings. While going through the necessary changes He has for us, He gives a way to sustain us through it.

How does He sustain us? Through family, friends who support us in our time of need, activities that keep us happy while giving us a semblance of self-belief and comfort, and our church family who is always there to support us spiritually and lift us up in our hour of need.

God never abandons us. Perhaps the saying “He gives us what we can handle” is true. He doesn’t leave us on some stranded island of adversarial change with no tools—the tools are there. It’s all of those foundational support systems that will always be there.

So now we know that change shouldn’t be feared because He will sustain us through it. Let’s talk about why it happens in the first place. As mentioned before, God wants us to change, to be different than not only this world but also our former selves. He wants us to grow stronger not only in ourselves but, more importantly, in Him. To do that we inevitably will have to change. Yesterday’s “us” is better than last week’s “us” but not as good as future “us.” The Christian lifestyle is a metaphorical walk—meaning going from one place to another or changing from one place to another.

We can’t stop it, we can only embrace it.

So, dear reader, embrace the change that God has in store for you. It may seem painful now, but His glory and His plan will always be revealed. He will sustain us because He doesn’t want to see us fail. He wouldn’t be a good Father if He did.

He wants us to embrace the change because ultimately it will make us better and bring us closer to Him. It’s always scary, and it will always be, but it’s also something that will better us—especially if we trust Him.

Setting Sail - by Bobby Triplett

There is a lot that goes into the preparations for a voyage. Ledgers of supplies to be checked and double-checked, instruments and tools to be collected and implemented, skills to be learned and wisdom to be gained. And, of course, there must be a gathering of those brave companions who will choose to travel together into the deep blue expanse of the hopeful unknown.

But for all of our preparations and calculations, for all of our skills and trades and carefully dreamt expectations, we can too quickly forget that the waters on which we travel cannot be presumed to be neatly ordered or nicely navigated. No, for they themselves are a companion character, an untamed variable in this adventure we have chosen to embark upon, and I am learning to remember that the paths and routes that I originally charted may not be the same ways by which the unknown sea will allow me to journey. 

There are those who will allow this very idea—this wild, incalculable consort—to keep them landlocked to the shores of the familiar, even when the inhospitalities of their mother country threaten to break their spirit. Safety can become their god, and they will worship it the way that they have always done, for the sake of always doing, even when it has become unsafe to do so.  

But any colony worth its salt, any mariner worth his vessel, knows in the deepest and truest places of his heart that the call to the brighter shores might very well be by way of the darkest routes of the deepest waters.

There were many of us who set sail together. We filled our ships and secured our sails, we said our prayers and kissed goodbye our beloved homelands, leaving in search of a new way of living on the shore of a distant dream. Many set sail, and many did not; some turned back for home, while others detoured in search of different routes. Some have been lost at sea, and some have been called to other shores and other colonies altogether.

But despite the unexpected variables and dramas of the voyage... and despite the ones who couldn’t or wouldn’t complete the passage… some of us made it across the sea. The journey was true, and life, as we once only whispered about in hopeful conspiracies, has indeed taken root on the soil of this new country, growing strong and evergreen and nourished by the faith we have in the One who called us.

I am sure this is not the last time our hearts will be drawn out across the deep waters to distant and unknown places beyond the scope of our sight. I am sure that the same beckoning to leave familiar shores will pull our comfortable hearts with convincing gravities all over again.

But if and when we hear the salt air calling us out, and if and when we choose to follow it, there is one good and constant truth that we who have sailed once before will cling to. For we know this: our departure and our arrival are not contingent upon our preparations, nor how mighty a ship we captain, nor how true our sails are. It matters not how strong the crew is or even how wisely our ledgers are managed, nor is it contingent upon the violent storms or the windless doldrums. Rather, we lash our hearts to Voice of the sea, for we know that it is He alone who can bring our sailors’ hearts to the shores his words promised. 

Pass the Mustard - by Melissa Levrets

An enlightening moment happened to me a couple weeks ago. The Beard left the mustard out. That’s right. You heard me. He just walked away and sat down to eat a sandwich, clearly forgetting something. I was irritated. I worked on a snarky comment while I went the 3 feet to the fridge with said condiment in hand. As I turned around to make my grumpy comment to the husband, I was stopped in my tracks by what I saw on the counter. Stuff! Dishes, cereal, homework, mail, spices. The counter was covered. Gasp! The horror of it all! Then the blinders fell off my eyes. I was so irked that The Beard left 1 thing out when there lay at least 20 items I was directly responsible for. That got me thinking. How often am I so fast to see someone else’s mustard and miss all my dirty dishes and junk? Often people, often.

There is this verse that gives me major mind bending images. Maybe since I first heard it as a kid, but it is pretty intense. 

Matthew 7:3 (NIV) says, “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?”

A freaking plank of wood in your eye! Yowza! How do you not see it? How did I not see it? Because we are so gosh darn set upon finding fault with those around us. It sure is easier that way, isn’t it? Focusing on others shortcomings saves me from having to change. I love the way The Message version of the Bible words Jesus’ message to us in Matthew 7. 

“Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults -unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbors face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.” 

Do you feel like you were just sent behind the woodshed to get spanked? I sure do. Dang Jesus. Seriously. Painful.
And, as per the usual, the Son of God has it right. Perhaps an honest, inward look at what logs, planks, and ugly sneers we are harboring is in order. Go read Matthew 7 again. If you don’t feel the sharp smack, maybe it’s because that plank meant to discipline you is still stuck in your eye. How different would our marriages, families, friendships, and community look if we fixed ourselves first? Different. Kind. Loving. Understanding. A soft place for people to land. Certainly how I want my life to be. What would our lives look like if that wood was removed? Perhaps we would find the grace to pass the mustard instead of flinging it.

{INTERPRETING SHALOM} - by Katrina Korte

Interpretation of the written word, specifically the Word, has always fascinated me.  When I was younger, the idea of different denominations amazed and encouraged me to question the idea of absolute truths. Which truths were essential to our faith and which were merely ritual led. Or maybe tradition was in fact essential. I wasn’t sure why/what I believed differently from my Catholic family or why their Bible would have different books than mine. And I was always quite ashamed that my denomination didn’t even have a real name {or a pretty building}. Nondenominational seemed just so noncommittal.

But I went. Yes, I used to go to church; something I am thankfully realizing now is very different from being the church. At some point I stopped. The reason doesn’t really matter. What matters is how God would slowly call me back to Him. In ways I am just now able to understand were always His.    

I hadn’t been to church for years when I studied abroad in Italy for my masters in architecture. I remember being overwhelmed by my emotions in the cathedrals. But it was beyond an appreciation for the beauty of the work created; I remember thinking there were people who valued their faith so much that they labored to build this place with such detailed craft and adornment to worship their God. My God. It hit me then that this was my same God. Yet somehow I felt so far from the devotion these people must have embodied.

The following year I started my thesis, and I immediately was drawn to this idea of interpretation and how it relates to the history and architecture of religious beliefs {and buildings}. To remain as brief as possible {which is difficult discussing a year of my life in this project}; I ended up broadening my research and design to all three Abrahamic monotheistic religions of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. I had a new perspective of our Biblical history I never before understood. I chose to design a religious complex at the center of the Old City of Jerusalem where the four religious quarters intersect. I studied how architecture can encourage {without forcing} interaction, and ultimately peace, in the heart of the most hostile religious space in the world.

Jerusalem’s etymology actually translates to City of Peace. As I thought about what that city was intended to be in comparison to what it has become, I became more passionate about how tolerance, acceptance, or even appreciation, for others’ faith could be achieved. Even if I was designing a fictitious project, the concepts resonated within my soul. My desire to understand absolute truths about my God, as seen through other religious practices {also affected by varying culture and histories}, grew stronger.

I found my mind opening. I felt compassion, even defensive, for Muslims. I wanted to understand more about my own faith and its connection to Judaism. I don’t feel I could ever understand enough Middle Eastern religious history to even consider myself knowledgeable, but what was changing in me was a desire to understand the people of these different faiths and why they believe what they do.

I now love to travel and be submersed into different religious cultures. I have since been to India and felt the most at peace in ancient mosques that put some of Italy’s cathedrals to shame. In those moments, I again realized this was my same God. I struggle with the idea that I am right {and they must be wrong} when we all come from the same Abrahamic history interpreted differently. Though I put my faith in the Bible, I wonder what I would believe if I was born elsewhere.

I can see now how God used my thesis and travels to bring me back to my faith. To question what I believe and why. And to ultimately deepen my passion and desire to understand people. I used to want to know the teachings of each religion. Now I want to know the heart of the followers. I am in awe of how He was opening my mind and soul to something beyond my reach and comprehension to draw me back to Him.

But what I am realizing is that it is easy to accept, or even embrace, people of another culture from afar. It is easy to identify with humanitarians and to hope and pray our God is a merciful, loving God who knows the hearts of all His people on earth. Sadly, I cannot establish peace in Jerusalem; the same a stranger’s mere acceptance cannot will peace in my life. Only we can create a place of peace in our personal communities. Because peace requires love.

And I am learning a global religious appreciation is far different from a personal love for our fellows.

Love is harder. I think because love is messy. You have to really know a person to truly love them. And you have to open yourself up to break down those walls. You have to be vulnerable, and you have to prove yourself trustworthy for others to be the same. Often we must get hurt to learn to love. Or we might be the one who hurts someone else before we learn.

And once you truly love someone, accepting differences is harder still. It is hardest when it affects you so personally. Unconditional love becomes a choice. An action. One that often must be wrapped in wings of patience and selflessness.  And maybe that is when it is transformed into grace.

I think love takes more work than we ever knew when we first set out to follow His greatest command. And like Jerusalem, I believe we are intended for so much more than we are today. I believe in peace. Within ourselves and our church. And I believe in unconditional love. The kind of love and grace I am still learning to give. 

OMINOUS SKIES - by Erin NeSmith

These are some lyrics I wrote about my own struggles with security, assurance, value and purpose as a woman. I am going out on a limb to offer these to my Element family on "Stories from the Colony". I hope they might mean something to someone other than me...even if it's to just one person, it would mean the world to me. I am so grateful for the opportunity to risk vulnerability and share. 

We weep in silence, alone in our rooms 

We fear rejection and the failure it looms 

But how do we conquer and vanquish this foe? 

Oh God, hear our prayers because we do not know

In many forms the dark clouds they roll in 

Overhead, one by one, silver linings, not one 

And now the decent from the ominous sky 

Has me enveloped by a fog that suffocates my try

In our most honest moments we gather resolve 

We pack it away and get on with our call 

But all of a sudden without any warning 

We're jolted and thrown and sent into our mourning

In many forms the dark clouds they roll in 

Overhead one by one, silver linings, not one 

And now the decent from the ominous sky 

Has me enveloped by a fog that suffocates my try

What do we need? How do we get filled? 

What should we ask? Can we join in your guild? 

Weary and worn out with festering wounds 

We're withering lovelies please help us to bloom...

All in a moment Your hope it shines through

Dissipating, one by one, silver linings, there's some

And now the decent from the ominous sky

Is a brilliant light of the Son that rescues my try

This is the cycle and You have the key

To end it and save me and teach me to see

So give me the strength to believe You are in

All of it, everything, even the dim

You are my lifeline, the center of hope

My joy is unshaken even under this yoke

Hold me together please don't let me break

And Your glory will shine at the of the day 

The Welcoming - by Liza Thurmond

We give stories, share stories, write stories and read stories.

But what if I were to say that stories are so much more than mere background noise to our already deafening society?  Stories are more than a flat, one-dimensional concept. Growing up, you may have adopted the assumption that a story is just “a story”; that its very nature negates the possibility of it being anything more. I have come to believe that in most stories there is much more to be seen than what meets the eye. Stories have been present in human existence spanning cultures, continents, centuries, and generations. As a result, it’s hard to generically put forth an all-encompassing definition for what a story actually is and that is, in part, the rugged beauty of it.  

In every execution of a story there is a relationship establishment that takes place: the storyteller and the listener. However, stories themselves involve complex components.

Stories …..

-       invite you to share

-       are received

-       contain a spectrum of emotions

-       connect people together

-       span lifetimes

-       mark seasons of growth

-       encourage dreams to be dreamt

-       can wound and heal

-       are committed to the expression of a process

-       are tools of teaching

-       invite you to respond

The first storyteller in existence was God himself, using the amazing expression of stories to reveal the unending pursuit of His love for us. The Bible is the collection of these real, God-filled stories. Not hollow or shallow, void of life or purpose, but filled with hope and the wild, unyielding possibility of redemption for you – right now – today! The orchestration of these stories was providentially anointed for your heart to receive, thousands of years before you would read them or become aware of their existence. Part of that story was His son, Jesus, who came to this earth to fulfill His part of the Father’s story.

Understanding the power of stories to connect with people and point them toward His truth is the very heartbeat of His story. Christ taught His disciples using stories. One of the most alluring characteristics of a story is the beckoning invitation to not only listen but also respond. Christ is beckoning us to recognize the story of His love and then to respond to it. In our response to this He is realized in our story so that others can see him glorified in our stories.

I hope to leave you resting in a spot of hope with the following thought: these stories that we are playing a part in, these stories woven within our souls, though they may be painful and burdensome, they are also rich in grace and they abound in hope. God’s story ends with pulsating hope and redemption. Just like many stories do, His story invites the listener to share in in the hope of the story. Isn’t that what beckons the listener to desire the end of the story revealed? We have a conscious hope for what we want the end to be. I want to welcome you to share the God-breathed stories etched in your heart .The beauty in both the sharing and listening brings glory to the wonderful workings of His hands on our lives and our carefully crafted stories.

What if the truest nature of stories in their rawest sense summons for them to be shared and they are meant to be received because there is a purpose that these stories are meant to fulfill?

“And so here I am, preaching and writing about things that are way over my head, the inexhaustible riches and generosity of Christ. My task is to bring out in the open and make plain what God, who created all this in the first place, has been doing in secret and behind the scenes all along. Through followers of Jesus like yourselves gathered in churches, this extraordinary plan of God is becoming known and talked about even among the angels! All this is proceeding along lines planned all along by God and then executed in Christ Jesus. When we trust in him, we’re free to say whatever needs to be said, bold to go wherever we need to go. So don’t let my present trouble on your behalf get you down. Be proud!”

Ephesians 3:10-13

An Affirmation for Women - by Lakin Easterling

I heard once that Lucifer was the most beautiful angel. That he outshone every other, and was breathtaking in form and sound. He was likened to the bright star on the horizon of dawn, a silver twinkle along the vastitude of the day’s unfolding orange and pink and lavender. I’ve also heard that in his heart resides a bitter thorn for the word Woman and the beauty she holds, because she is a completion, a crowning glory, the magnum opus of creation. She is the beauty, the morning star, of a people crafted from planetary substance, filled with the breath that Lucifer himself used to inhale before exhaling the first note of a song.

In short, we have holy breath. We are filled to glowing with the vibrato of a God who delights in elegance. And in that breath, we have been challenged.

The challenge arises from mothers, from fathers, from siblings, lovers, friends, children, aunts and uncles, coworkers – whoever and all – over the fact that there is something the Holy Song has left in our garden-shod bodies.

Our voice is the uncovering of the treasures left behind in our genes from the very beginning of conception.

Our voice is the unleashing of the holy onto the ordinary substances of this spinning vessel.

Our voice is the permission for humanity to bloom like the dawn, to soften the edges between light and dark, to cross over the threshold of night and day, and to make space for the glory only image bearers of such a Maker could restore.

Ours is the voice that has been told it is not enough and too much. Ours is the voice that has been deemed too provocative or not revealing enough.

Ours is the voice of a great and holy power that comes behind the preparations and deems it truly, undeniably good.

Ours is the voice of confirmation, of encouragement, and of completion. We carry beings in our bodies, forming them fully from specs and atoms until they are ready to be whole enough. We do that! We make, we create, we shift from tiny infant to infinite imaginative child to unfolding feminine hearts to fully formed queens of nature and existence in order to birth those same transitions in the rest of the world.

And we have been told our transitions are void? Are not welcome? Are unnatural? We have, and we have listened.

We have exchanged our hour of daybreak for an hour of mourning.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for the same God that dwelleth in the light also dwelleth in the shadows.

Though we walk through the hours of drenched lashes, improperly balanced scales, roughly shod feet and dirty homes, we are kin to the same Son that walked through mud and a sea of bones, recalling life from every dead man begging for sight or healed limbs. Though we walk in the hard fought with crimson nails and lips, raw from the cuff of injustice, we are Bride to the Healer and the Maker and the Spirit.

Be not afraid of your darkness, Beloved, for in the womb of shadows pressing too close, you are rolled and burnished bright as pearls. Be not afraid of your light, Beloved, for in the pressures of a soul opening into the world, you become fully formed into the purpose you were designed for.

Be not afraid, Woman, of your name.

Be not afraid, Woman, of your birthright.

Be not afraid, Woman, of your transitions.

You are alive. You are alive. You are alive!

Be free in your glory, in your presence, in your voice and heart and mind and body and soul. Dance naked across your kitchen floor! Sing loud with the windows of your car rolled all the way down at a stoplight! Share a piece of chocolate with a stranger. Embrace your physical life with the laughter pulled in by holy breath and exhaled with the hope that every fence and every boundary and every checkmark that has tried to diminish your spirit has been broken by a Savior who is less Knight in Shining Armor and more Last of the Mohicans. He is wild and strong in his love, and empowers in his love, and bestows with his love. He fights with a banner of love and sets a feast with the abundance of your oppressors. He keeps you, Beloved.

He keeps you, Beloved.

He keeps you, Beloved. He is not afraid of the depths you will go to, nor is he jealous of your heights. He knows your glory and is steadfast in helping you ascend to it.

His love is a freedom, the sky in which your star is set. Be not afraid of your place. Be free in your being. Be Woman, fully alive.