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Fairy-tale makeover: Review of The Merchant's Daughter by Melanie Dickerson

TheMerchant'sDaughtercoverI’m just going to come right out and say it: I love Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, but Melanie Dickerson’s take on the fairy tale, The Merchant’s Daughter, is far better. (And isn’t that a great cover? Beautiful and full of detail.)

Do you hate me?

A couple of months ago, I learned of Dickerson and her novels through an online fiction scavenger hunt (which is SUPER fun even if you don’t win the whole thing) and thought the idea of retelling classic fairy tales was clever and creative. (Besides Beauty and the Beast, Dickerson’s books feature Sleeping Beauty and Snow White. Her next one, about Cinderella, releases later this year.)

I didn’t expect to like the book as much as I did, but I’d call it one of my best reads of 2012.

In The Merchant’s Daughter, set in medieval England, Annabel, the daughter of a deceased merchant is forced to work at the home of Lord Ranulf to pay her family’s debt. The new lord is disfigured and rumored to be beastly in temperament. Annabel considers working for Ranulf more favorable than following through with a marriage, arranged by her brother, to Bailiff Tom, an unkind, lecherous man who also works in the manor house. Time and again, Ranulf comes to Annabel’s aid when the bailiff tries to harm her.

The development of the relationship between Annabel and Ranulf is breathtaking and sweet. I literally couldn’t keep myself away from this story, and it stuck with  me for days afterward.

Even if you consider Beauty and the Beast an “old” story, I’d recommend this story. It’s a fresh take that stands on its own apart from any other version of the fairytale.

I’ll be seeking more of Dickerson’s work.

And maybe I’ll watch that Disney version again, too.

Learning the Art of Self-challenge by Jason Jaggard

Here’s another slice of New Year’s wisdom, this time by speaker and writer Jason Jaggard. Challenging advice.

Through taking healthy risks that make you a better person or the  world a better place, you begin to develop a deeper appetite for good.  At first it might not be very tasty. Taking even a small risk can be  more difficult than it sounds. And that is why we have to practice. We  have to develop the skill of challenging ourselves.

We want the act of making healthy choices to become a natural and  authentic part of who we are. But before something can become a habit,  it often is a hassle. Put another way: if we want new habits to become  instinctual, then they must first be intentional. And in order for that  to happen, we have to practice the sacred art of self-challenge.

sparkwordI don’t want to freak you out, but what we’re really talking about is  obedience. Obedience to God is the path that leads to Life. It’s the  path that transforms you into the person you long to be. And obedience always requires risk.

What’s amazing is that much of our obedience is instinctual. In at  least some areas of life, we naturally make healthy choices. We  naturally smile at a stranger, or perhaps we have a great work ethic or  are naturally curious or easygoing.

Yet we can’t define obedience solely in terms of what comes naturally. Often our greatest moments of obedience come when it is least  natural. Perhaps our natural tendency in certain situations is  unhealthy or hurtful. Or perhaps what we naturally want to do is  nothing, to avoid taking action when action is called for. In these  moments we have to choose something else, something we don’t want to do,  something that, most likely, will move us into the space of the  unknown.

I want to be a person who is able to act—who is able to obey—even when it’s unnatural.

Intentionality and risk are the ways we develop a greater capacity to  obey. When we say, “I’m going to do this thing that I wouldn’t normally  do,” we are developing the capacity to grow into the people we were  meant to be.

When Jesus invited people to follow Him, He was inviting them to obey  Him. There are parts of you that already reflect God’s character, parts  of your uniqueness that are expressions of something God wanted to say  when He created you. Those are already consistent with following Jesus.

Maybe it’s your smile. Maybe it’s your way with people. Maybe it’s your work ethic. Maybe it’s your sense of right and wrong. Maybe it’s your intelligence or your curiosity for life. Maybe it’s your sense of responsibility or your flare for fun.

These things are good just the way they are. It’s easy to obey when  God calls us to things we naturally love. When God calls us to the stuff  we already like (which happens a lot more than we realize), it’s one of  the great pleasures of life.

Risk is the central narrative of the scriptures. When I do Spark  Group trainings with faith communities, I always have participants do  this exercise:

1. Pick any person in the scriptures that comes to mind. 2. Identify the risk God called that person to take.

This is surprisingly easy. And once people get going, it’s hard to  get them to stop. Abraham: stopped living with his parents at age  seventy and moved into no man’s land to start his own nation. Moses:  even with a speech impediment, he stood up to the most powerful man in  the world to liberate an enslaved people. Mary: endured the shame of  people assuming she had been unfaithful to her fiancé. Joseph: remained  committed to a teenage girl, his fiancée, who in the eyes of their  neighbors and extended family was almost certainly an adulteress.

Samson.

Ruth.

The apostle Paul.

Rahab.

The twelve fellas who quit their jobs to follow Jesus, most of whom were later killed for doing so. The people whose stories are recorded in the history of the scriptures  all took risks—often huge risks—to be a part of what God was doing in  the world. It seems like a prerequisite for being mentioned in the  narrative of the movement of God is the willingness and courage to risk. Like God’s people throughout history, we can jump into life in ways  that only we can so that God can move in ways we cannot. Call it faith  if you want, but in terms of everyday life, it’s risk. And it’s through  risk that God can change our lives.

Faith. Love. Hope.

Risk. Compassion. Optimism.

When we begin to live out these values, we create a context that is  thick with potential. When we have the courage to take risks of compassion that produce optimism in others, we create space for God to move and work. We begin to form our souls into the kind of textured lives that gives God traction to guide us into the future He dreamed we could  participate in. And we become fully alive.

This is what Jesus did two thousand years ago. He assembled a team  and spent three years with them, throwing them into the deep end of  serving humanity. Coaching them. Teaching them. And then He kept saying  weird things, such as “Have faith in me and you will do greater things  than what I have done.”

And then, before He turned His followers and friends loose to serve  humanity on God’s behalf, He said: “Go, create cultures of servant leadership, of risk, compassion, and optimism out of every society.”

He looked into the eyes of folks like you and me and said, “Go.” Risk. Care. Create. Just like the people you’ve read about in this book, you have ideas  that need to be set free. God has placed potential inside you, potential  for creative joy and love, strength and peace. And all of that needs to  be unleashed.

So risk. Choose something. Do something. Partner together with God  and others to pull off something beautiful that serves humanity. It will  be hard. You will experience failure. But I promise, you will never regret it.

As Steven Ma put it: “It’s definitely a challenge. It’s definitely a risk. But most important: it’s fun.” This is the way the world heals. It is the way God has chosen to move  through the contours of history. He has chosen our hearts, our feet, our  fingertips. Some people will hear God’s voice only if it sounds like  ours, inviting them into the adventure of hope that we have been invited  into.

This is how we spark our world. When we begin to realize that  learning is a verb and that life is the best classroom. When we begin  taking risks of compassion in the context of community. When we start  intentionally leaning into our relationships, our careers, our faith.  When we step outside of our comfort zones and experience a life that can  exist only if God is with us.

Our world will begin to change.

One small risk at a time.

Adapted from Spark by Jason Jaggard with permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.

Saturday Smiles: Vacation style edition

Our “vacations” are seldom exotic. I mean, come on, we were raised in Illinois and that’s where most of our time away happens. But we do our best to keep it interesting.

Our week started with an overnight drive on New Year’s Eve, which I initially thought was a crazy idea but turned out okay. Especially when we could say it took us TWO YEARS to get home. (What can I say? We’re easily amused. Even more so when we’re sleep deprived. More on that later.)

New Year’s Day was a blur for me because I napped for an entire morning. (Oh, that brings a smile to my face. Naps are so rare for me. Three hours of uninterrupted sleep in the middle of the day. Heaven.) Later we were introduced to Duck Dynasty (seriously, I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. We’ve added this to our personal must-see TV list) and cracked up every time my mom mentioned Pinterest. (She was off work for a week without the grandkids to keep her occupied, so she had some Internet surfing time.) To her credit, we have eaten some delicious food she found on Pinterest. (But it’s weird when one of your parents gets comfortable with social media.)

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWednesday was Christmas Rewind day as our kids opened their presents from grandparents and great-grandparents. We are now the proud owners of a Barbie beach house and Barbie convertible as well as an entire fleet of Coast Guard rescue vehicles and men. And a train set. I’m thinking we should have given away all our kids’ toys before we left home because I have NO IDEA where this stuff is going to go.

My grandma made our son an orange afghan (orange is his favorite color) and after we told him she made it, he asked of every other present, “Did you make this?”

I’m thinking our family will have this exchange at family gatherings from now on: “Did you make this?” “Yes, I found it on Pinterest.” (It was a lot funnier when I hadn’t had much sleep.)

Also, this might be my most favorite picture of the whole year, no matter what else happens.

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Phil and I took Thursday and Friday to get out of town. We used some hotel points for a free night’s stay and headed up to Lake County, north of the city (that’s Chicago, the greatest city in the world, as we like to say).

On the way up we ate here.

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This deli/cafe is legendary in my husband’s family. His maternal side is German, so authentic German food is a big deal. I had beef goulash with spaetzle (best egg noodles on the planet) and red cabbage. Phil had a sausage platter with three different kinds, and a side of sauerkraut. I’ve never been a big fan of sauerkraut, but I can stomach a taste of it now and then. It was fun to–finally–experience this with him. We’ve been talking about it for a long time.

We spent some time at the Gurnee Mills Mall, something neither of us had done in years. We played the $5 game, where we can only buy one thing for ourselves and it has to be about $5. Phil got this sweet hat. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Just in time for the playoffs. Or next season. I bought some blank canvas material for a yet-to-be-determined creative project I need to complete this month. We ate Oberwies ice cream while watching Elementary in real time. (Usually we have to watch it a day or two later.)

Our getaway also included two visits to a monastery/chapel/shrine. We are not Catholic but were intrigued by the artwork and experience of visiting. We stopped there on the way to our hotel and felt a little bit lost and intrusive. We decided to go back the next day so I could take some notes and jot some thoughts and we could spend a little more time there. (I plan to write about this more later this month.) It was an inspiring and thought-provoking visit.

We met my brother for lunch at a historic roundhouse in Aurora. (Our 3-year-old was pretty jazzed to be eating lunch at a train station.)

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThen the kids got to stop at a train park on the way back to our vacation headquarters.

Spending time with family is always a highlight of our trips home and we’ve done plenty of that. And the best part of all: we still have another week of visiting and fun!

The beauty of winter: Review of Wildflowers from Winter by Katie Ganshert

I didn’t like Bethany Quinn at first. She seemed stuck-up, full of herself and operated with an attitude that she was better than other people.

But as with most first impressions, I was too quick to judge.

wildflowers from winterBethany’s story unfolds on the pages of Wildflowers from Winter, the debut novel from Midwest (yay!) author Katie Ganshert, and the more I got to know Bethany, the more I sympathized with her. A small-town girl with some deep wounds, Bethany hightailed it out of town when she turned 18 and didn’t look back. Now, she’s an architect at a prestigious firm in Chicago with a lawyer boyfriend, living the life she imagined. A family tragedy draws her back to her Iowa hometown and Bethany finds that escaping her past, and the memories both good and bad, wasn’t as easy as she thought.

Wildflowers from Winter is a story of loss and redemption. Bethany thinks she has it all, and when she loses the “sure things” in her life, she starts to question her life and future. She gave up on God years ago but she discovers that He hasn’t given up on her.

Ganshert’s writing is simple and poetic. The story flows like the stream winding its way through Bethany’s grandfather’s property and gently carries the reader along. And there are moments, not an abundance, where her words convey a solid truth, like a giant rock perched in the middle of the stream, and you sit with the wisdom for a little while before moving on with the story.

Her descriptions of the small town and the surrounding farmland made me homesick for my hometown in Illinois. Yes, I love the beauty of the mountains here, but I will always miss the farmland scenes. Maybe that’s something only Midwesterners can appreciate. Anyway, I could see it the way Ganshert described it, and I wanted to be there. I’d call that successful scene setting.

And Evan the farmhand? Well, let’s just say he’s a gruff, charming, passionate, hard-working leading man in this story. I loved him.

The story tackles grief of all kinds in all seasons, as well as the ways people cope and move on. There are sob-caught-in-your-throat moments and bring-a-smile-to-your-face moments. I look forward to the continuing story in Wishing on Willows, coming this spring.

You can read the first chapter of Wildflowers from Winter here.

And I have a copy for you!

Leave a comment on this post for a chance to win your own copy. I’ll pick a winner using Random.org and post the results on Monday, January 7.

For additional chances to win: “like” Author, Katie Ganshert’s Facebook page, or share about this giveaway on Facebook or Twitter. (One extra entry each.) Come back here and leave another comment when you’ve done the “extra credit.”

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In exchange for my review, I received a free digital and print copy of Wildflowers from Winter from Waterbrook Multnomah Publishing Group.

One word to guide my year

I’m bad at making–and keeping–resolutions. Who isn’t, right?

So when I stumbled onto the opportunity to simplify my new year’s resolutions into one word, I decided to give it a try.

A Facebook friend blogged about her experience with Oneword365 for 2012. And I was inspired by the idea that I could spend the whole year letting one word transform my life, my attitudes, my behaviors.

It’s not a to-do kind of word but a to-be kind of word, not a rule but a guide.

I’m totally game.

So I spent a couple of days thinking of possibilities. They’re endless, you know. So many words to choose from. Peace. Grace. Joy. Love. I’d be thrilled if my capacity for any one of those increased over the year. But none of those seemed to fit.

The right word came to me in the middle of an emotional breakdown. I’d shut myself in the bedroom, asking the kids to please play by themselves in the living room or their room for a few minutes so I could have some space to cry and journal and pour my heart out to God about how yuck I feel about life right now.

He listened as I raged–on paper–and let my emotions spin wildly out of control.

Then He whispered, “Let go.”

I am a control freak, and nothing scares a control freak more than the idea that she’s not in control. Parenting has yet to break me completely of the notion that I have little to no control over anything. (Have you ever tried to get a preschooler or toddler to do anything you say? Not pretty.) But our circumstances have put me in a position to realize that I have no control. I can’t make anything happen. It’s not up to me to chart the course of our life. My job is to wait. And listen. And take the appropriate steps.

Since “let go” is two words, I wanted to replace it with a one-word synonym. “Surrender” is one, but to me, that sounds like giving up. I know surrender is a biblical thing, and I’m okay with surrender, in general, but I don’t want to put myself in a mental state of giving up.

So, here’s my word for 2013:

Release.

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I’ve felt myself holding tightly to things in the last year. Expectations. My plans. My way. People’s perceptions. Excuses.

This year, I want to unclench my fists and hold my hands open and let go of what I think I need. Hold my heart open and let go of pain I’ve been harboring. Hold my mind open and let go of perceptions, of me and of others.oneword-release-rope

I’ve heard that when you’re at the end of your rope, you should tie a knot and hold on. I’ve heard, too, that there’s another option.

Let go.

And like a free fall, trust God to support you, even if you can’t see how.

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners. (Isaiah 61:1)

Release. 2013.

I’m hoping to check in here once a month about what a mindset of release is teaching me.

Have you considered one word for the year? Find out more here. And join the journey.

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This year: Dream Bigger, Start Smaller by Steven Furtick

greaterword-2I’m pleased to feature these encouraging words from author Steven Furtick today. Wise advice for the new year.

I’ve met a lot of people who knew what it was to burn plows and set  out to live for God but didn’t know what to do next. They prayed, they  made a commitment—and they got stuck. As a pastor, I’ve seen it over and  over again. As a man trying to live for God, I’ve experienced it over  and over again.

I’m guessing you’ve made plenty of resolutions about stuff you needed  to start doing or stop doing. Maybe you were going to start praying or  reading your Bible more.

Or maybe you were going to stop smoking or boycott carbohydrates or  stop looking at pornography or stop saying mean things about family  members behind their backs. Maybe you decided to break away from a  relationship you knew was unhealthy for you.

The way I see it, there are two major reasons why well-intentioned people like us get stuck after we burn our plows.

One, we don’t think big enough. Two, we don’t start small enough.

I’m not trying to talk like Yoda here. Thinking big enough and  starting small enough are two sides of the same coin. So I not only want  to motivate you to dream bigger dreams for your life. I also want to  challenge you to take realistic steps of obedience that can actually  make God’s vision come to pass.

After all, our God “is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask  or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20). It is true that we often settle for dreams  and visions that are far less than those God has for us. And He wants  us to experience much more. If I didn’t believe that, the title of this  book would be Samer.

So of course God wants you to believe big—it’s in His very nature.  I’ve devoted my whole ministry to inspiring people with this truth.  Preacher Dwight L. Moody made a statement that I love: “If God is your  partner, make your plans big.” That way of thinking makes my heart race.

But we’re not going to see God’s bigger vision fulfilled in our lives  just because we spend more time thinking transcendent thoughts. We  don’t attain greater things simply by lying on the couch and  concentrating on the possibilities of a better life. Alas, sitting for  thousands of hours with my headphones on listening to Guns N’ Roses and  imagining I was Axl Rose didn’t translate into my being the lead singer  of the world’s most dangerous rock’n’roll band.

You do have to be willing to think big. But the active ingredient of  God’s greater work through us is our willingness to start small.

I want to show you an incredible image in one of the first main-stage  miracles Elisha performs after Elijah departs and leaves the ministry  in his successor’s hands. It demonstrates the principle that small steps  and hard work precipitate a move of God. That human action prepares the  way for supernatural favor.

It comes from 2 Kings 3, and it goes like this:

King Joram is ruling over Israel during the years when the kingdom is divided. When the king of Moab rebels against him, the frightened king enlists King Jehoshaphat of Judah and the king of Edom to help him. Their combined military force should be fearsome against the Moabites—but they almost immediately run out of water for their armies and animals. Now they are preparing to face a terrifying foe while facing an even more terrifying fate: dying of thirst.

Par for the course in Israel’s history, the crisis drives King Joram  to look for divine help. He isn’t desperate for God, but he is desperate  for a solution. King Jehoshaphat asks if there is a prophet who could  consult God for them. A servant reminds him of Elisha, the artist  formerly known as Mr. Plow. So the three kings and their entourages go  looking for Elisha.

Elisha confirms to the kings that water will flow from Edom by the  time the sun comes up the next morning. Their armies and their animals  will have plenty to drink. The drought is almost over. God is going to  deliver Moab to His people just as they prayed for. Hallelujah,  somebody?

But he tells the kings to take a small, ludicrous step first.

This is what the Lord says: Make this valley full of ditches. (verse 16)

Why would anybody in their right mind dig ditches to hold rain that isn’t even in the forecast?

Because that’s the way faith works. When you know God has promised  you greater things, you don’t wait for a sign to appear before you  respond. The kings wanted a miracle. They would get their miracle. But  first they got a work order: This is no time for the power of positive  thinking. Tie a bandanna around your head and pick up a shovel.

It would have been great if all the army had to do was sit around  thinking hydration-related thoughts or had a few guided exercises to  help them visualize the water. But that’s not how God operates.

It’s as if God says, “If you really believe I’m going to do what I  told you I would do, get busy. Show Me your faith, and then I’ll show  you My faithfulness. Do your part. If you will do what I asked you to  do, I will be faithful to My word.

“If you’ll dig the ditches, I’ll send the rain.”

The entire nation must have pitched in and dug all night, because  they got it done. The next morning the water arrived. As promised. As  always. The newly installed ditches were full of water, the armies and  animals were refreshed, and the joint army easily overtook the Moabites.

I think Elisha used the process of ditch digging to teach Israel this important paradox of great faith:

Only God can send the rain. But He expects you to dig the ditches.

It really comes down to this: What small steps and practical  preparations is God asking you to make for the greater life He wants you  to live? What ditches is He asking you to dig?

You can’t expect God to entrust you with a big dream if He can’t trust you to make a small start.

You can’t have the apostle Paul’s walk with God overnight. Big dream.

But you can pray ten minutes a day beginning tomorrow. Small start.

You can’t entirely mend a broken relationship overnight. Big dream.

But you can have a conversation and open the door, write the letter, make the call, say, “I’m sorry.” Small start.

If your kid is far from God, you can’t bring him back overnight. Big dream.

But you could start praying for him every day. Small start.

Notice what Elisha doesn’t say; he doesn’t tell the kings to dig one ditch. No singular ditch digging on this prophet’s watch.

Instead, make this valley full of ditches. Plural.

Believe that God is going to send a lot of rain.

If we really believe God is an abundant God, ready and willing to  bless our lives in greater ways than we could ever imagine, we ought to  be digging all kinds of ditches. In our relationships. In our careers.  In our ministries. In every area of our lives, there ought to be  heavy-duty equipment on site. Moving dirt. Making preparation.

And we ought to dig ditches using every means available. We can dig  ditches with our words. With our prayers. With our expectations. Even  with our thoughts.

How many ditches are you willing to dig? How deep will you dig them?  You’re not digging alone. And it’s not in vain. God has a downpour  scheduled in your near future. The deeper you dig, the greater the  rainfall has the potential to be.

Adapted from Greater by Steven Furtick with permission of Multnomah Books, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.

Saturday smiles: So this is Christmas edition

I’ll admit, I was not terribly looking forward to Christmas this year. It was the first time–ever–that I haven’t been with my extended family for Christmas, and only the second time (the first time being when he was in Iraq) that my husband has missed his family’s get-togethers.

Needless to say, we were both a little bummed at the way things have worked out this year. By next week, we’ll be home for “the holidays,” or what’s left of them.

So I was surprised at how good our Christmas was. It started on Sunday with our annual “White Christmas” viewing complete with cookies and egg nog. Our son wholeheartedly embraced the eggnog tradition, proclaiming it a better drink than hot chocolate and our daughter was inspired by the dance moves and twirled and tapped her way through the living room for two days.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Then on Christmas Eve, we attended our church’s candlelight and communion service, the first time we’ve been able to attend it because we’re usually at our home church in Illinois on Christmas Eve. It was lovely and inspiring and I found myself blessed and joyful in spite of how I was feeling earlier in the day. And our daughter took communion for the first time. It wasn’t something we planned, but we talked with her about it and later she told us: “The bread is Jesus’ body. The juice is his blood. And he died.” That pretty much sums it up. We have further reason to nurture her faith.

My husband and I did the whole put the kids to bed and then wrap presents and play Santa gig. We have a new appreciation for what our parents endured all those years.

And it was all worth it for the joy of Christmas morning. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Even though most of what “Santa” brought the kids was toys we had in the attic that other people have given us, the kids were thrilled. “Santa brought us so much stuff!” our 3-year-old son repeated. We spent the rest of the morning in our jammies, watching the kids play with Barbies and Ninja Turtles. We video called with the grandparents then headed over the river (there was no river; more like a mountain) and through the woods (it is sort of wooded) to our friends’ house for Christmas dinner. What an enjoyable time we had there! Later we collapsed into Christmas exhaustion and welcomed a snow/ice storm the next day.

In the days after Christmas, we have eaten too many Christmas cookies, and I, personally, have indulged in more coffee than is probably healthy. We are packing and preparing for a trip west to see family and friends. And hoping for better days to come in the new year. And if not better days, then better attitudes to face whatever the days may bring.

Christmas blessings to you, all.

One thing I've never had to worry about when interviewing for a job

I’ve had my share of job interviews in my working years: at a radio station, a movie theater, college newspaper office, two daily newspaper companies, a bus magazine, a curriculum company, a non-profit. Never in all of those interviews did I have to worry about becoming a slave.

Overworked? Yes.

Underpaid? Yes.

Unappreciated? Yes.

Fired? Yes.

Enslaved? No.

That’s Anna’s story. anchiliexodusroad

Investigators working with The Exodus Road met Anna and Sophia, two European women, working the streets in Southeast Asia in the fall of this year. Anna was promised a job in Southeast Asia–maybe it was cleaning houses or being a nanny–and an income that would support her and her family. She arrived to a much different scenario.

A sex trafficker took her passport and said she owed him $5,000 (US) for the ticket and her housing. To “work off” her debt, Anna and Sophia now work a red-light district in Southeast Asia making about $50 a night. Even if Anna could work off her debt, the scars–physical and mental–of the abuse she has suffered will follow her.

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She just wanted a job. To help her family. To escape poverty.

Now she is trapped, forced to sell herself night after night to pay a debt to her captors.

Anna and Sophia’s stories have been documented by The Exodus Road investigators but pursuing a case against the traffickers is in the hands of local non-governmental organizations. The Exodus Road can provide funding and personnel in pursuing this case to conviction. In the meantime, two girls wait on a street corner, cigarettes in their hands, wearing tall heels or trendy high-tops, mini-skirts and make-up, trying to catch the eye of a Western tourist or a local passing by, looking for drinks or fun, parties or sex.

Click here to find out how you can help The Exodus Road help girls like Anna and Sophia.

Man! I feel like a woman: Review of A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans

In my Shania Twain phase, years and years ago, I remember a song by this title (Man! I Feel Like a Woman) that, intentionally or otherwise, suggested a woman who wanted to “do what she dared” had to let loose and, essentially, act like a man.

biblical womanhoodI was never one to notice sexist messages or inequality. Recently, though, I’m seeing it everywhere, thanks in part to influences like Rachel Held Evans’ new book A Year of Biblical Womanhood. (Like the kid in The Sixth Sense tells Bruce Willis, “I see dead people,” I feel like telling those I meet, “I see gender inequality!” I’m sure that wouldn’t be awkward at all.)

I stumbled onto Rachel’s blog when one of her posts was referenced in a class my husband was taking at seminary. He left the link open, I read it, and I went back for more. Then a friend quoted from her first book in a sermon, and I decided to subscribe to her posts. She was talking up the release of this, her latest, and the premise intrigued me. In it, Rachel sought to live out in a year all the biblical “rules” in the Bible regarding women. She called her husband “Master,” she kept quiet in church, she slept in a tent on her front lawn during her period. And while she has been highly criticized for making a mockery of the Bible and womanhood, I found her year of biblical womanhood a courageous act on behalf of all women.

Rachel takes one for the team, not to mock women or the God who created them, but to elevate women to their equal standing with men. Through her year of living biblically, she honors women by reclaiming Proverbs 31 from the “to-do” list it has become and exposes gender bias that has become unequivocal truth in some denominations.

I laughed out loud while reading the book. I cried reading stories of South American women who have lived hard lives to save their families. I read passages out loud to my husband when I was moved, tickled or outraged. (I was all three.) In one case, this was to my benefit. After learning that Jewish men are the ones who memorize Proverbs 31 and recite it in celebration of their wives, and that “woman of valor” — eshet chayil, in Hebrew — is a blessing, my husband has started to say this to me for little things I’ve done or for no particular reason at all.

Whatever you’ve heard about this book, good or bad, you’ve got to read it yourself. Rachel is witty, passionate, honest and serious about the Bible. Which is why she wrote the book: to free women from misconceptions about their roles in God’s kingdom because we’ve taken the Bible literally when we shouldn’t have.

On her blog, Rachel honors women of valor regularly by sharing their stories. You can find the series here.

This is one takeaway I have from the book: honoring women for their acts of valor, whatever they may be. So, don’t be surprised if I shout Hebrew at you or randomly hail you as “woman of valor.” Because we’re sisters and we need all the encouragement we can get.

When the world doesn't end

The world didn’t end on Friday; that’s old news now, so it seems Christmas will come after all, and most of us will live to see 2013.

Oak Tree on snowy Fields at Sunset

Andreas Krappweis

A new year. Full of promise.

Except that while people were watching and waiting for the world to end (or not) on Friday, my husband and I were dealing with another blow to what we thought was the plan for our family.

I had been awaiting a second interview for a promising, exciting job, which was not a sure thing by any means but which gave us hope that maybe we could move and get out of this financial, spiritual, emotional rut we’re in. On Friday I got an e-mail and instead of anticipating a second interview, I found the door slammed shut with the words “we are not able to offer a position to you at this time.”

After the initial shock, Phil and I have rebounded and regrouped a little but we still find ourselves lost for direction.

And this is so not where I wanted to be. Especially at Christmas and on the cusp of a new year.

Today, on Christmas Eve, I am painfully aware of my condition.

Poor.

Needy.

Broken.

Helpless.

Empty.

And not unlike God-become-flesh, fullness of God in helpless babe, as the songs say.

How, on earth, could Almighty God become a helpless, dependent baby?

The answer resides in heaven.

And though I am all of the above, I have hope.

Tonight our church serves communion as part of its Christmas Eve service, a service our family has never attended because we’re usually home in Illinois by now. And I am so looking forward to it because of this:

“Jesus fills us with more and more of himself in the Eucharist to free us from being quite so full of ourselves in the rest of life.” — David DeSilva, Sacramental Life

Or as John the Baptist said of his relationship with Jesus: “He must increase, I must decrease.”

I don’t know what the new year holds for us, and maybe that’s a good thing. I spent most of this year clinging to expectations and recovering from disappointment when they went unmet. This year, I pray my expectations will consist of one word: Jesus.

“And he will be our peace.” – Micah 5:5